the dawn and the day or, the buddha and the christ, part i by henry t. niles the blade printing & paper company toledo, ohio preface. when humboldt first ascended the andes and saw the trees, shrubs and flora he had long before studied on the alps, he had only to look at his barometer, or at the sea of mountains and hills below, the rocks and soil around, and the sun above, to understand this seeming marvel of creation; while those who knew less of the laws of order and universal harmony might be lost in conjectures about pollen floating in the upper air, or seeds carried by birds across seas, forgetting that preservation is perpetual creation, and that it takes no more power to clothe a mountain just risen from the sea in appropriate verdure than to renew the beauty and the bloom of spring. max mueller, who looks through antiquity with the same clear vision with which humboldt examined the physical world, when he found the most ancient hindoos bowing in worship before dyaus pitar, the exact equivalent of the zeus pater of the greeks and the jupiter of the romans, and of "our father who art in the heavens" in our own divinely taught prayer, instead of indulging in wild speculations about the chance belief of some ancient chief or patriarch, transmitted across continents and seas and even across the great gulf that has always divided the aryan from the semitic civilization and preserved through ages of darkness and unbelief, saw in it the common yearning of the human soul to find rest on a loving father's almighty arm; yet when our oriental missionaries and scholars found such fundamental truths of their own religion as the common brotherhood of man, and that love is the vital force of all religion, which consists not in blood-oblations or in forms and creeds, but in shunning evil and doing good, and that we must overcome evil by good and hatred by love, and that there is a spiritual world and life after death embodied in the teachings of buddha--instead of finding in this great fact new proof of the common father's love for all his children, they immediately began to indulge in conjectures as to how these truths might have been derived from the early christians who visited the east, while those who were disposed to reject the claims of christianity have exhausted research and conjecture to find something looking as if christianity itself might have been derived from the buddhist missionaries to palestine and egypt, both overlooking the remarkable fact that it is only in fundamental truths that the two religions agree, while in the dogmas, legends, creeds and speculations which form the wall of separation between them they are as wide asunder as the poles. how comes it on the one theory that the nestorians, whose peculiar creed had already separated them from the balance of the christian church, taught their buddhist disciples no part of that creed to which they have adhered with such tenacity through the ages? and on the other theory, how comes it, if the divine master was, as some modern writers claim, an essene, that is, a buddhist monk, that there is not in all his teachings a trace of the speculations and legends which had already buried the fundamental truths of buddhism almost out of sight? how sad to hear a distinguished christian scholar like sir monier williams cautioning his readers against giving a christian meaning to the christian expressions he constantly met with in buddhism, and yet informing them that a learned and distinguished japanese gentleman told him it was a source of great delight to him to find so many of his most cherished religious beliefs in the new testament; and to see an earnest christian missionary like good father huc, when in the busy city of lha-ssa, on the approach of evening, at the sound of a bell the whole population sunk on their knees in a concert of prayer, only finding in it an attempt of satan to counterfeit christian worship; and on the other hand to see ancient and modern learning ransacked to prove that the brightest and clearest light that ever burst upon a sinful and benighted world was but the reflected rays of another faith. and yet this same sir monier williams says: "we shall not be far wrong in attempting an outline of the buddha's life if we begin by assuming that intense individuality, fervid earnestness and severe simplicity, combined with singular beauty of countenance, calm dignity of bearing, and almost superhuman persuasiveness of speech, were conspicuous in the great teacher." to believe that such a character was the product of a false religion, or that he was given over to believe a lie, savors too much of that worst agnosticism which would in effect deny the universality of god's love and would limit his care to some favored locality or age or race. how much more in harmony with the broad philosophy of such men as humboldt and mueller, and with the character of a loving father, to believe that at all times and in all countries he has been watching over all his children and giving them all the light they were capable of receiving. this narrow view is especially out of place in treating of buddhism and christianity, as buddha himself predicted that his dharma would last but five hundred years, when he would be succeeded by matreya, that is, love incarnate, on which account the whole buddhist world was on tiptoe of expectation at the time of the coming of our lord, so that the wise men of the east were not only following their guiding-star but the prediction of their own great prophet in seeking bethlehem. had the christian missionaries to the east left behind them their creeds, which have only served to divide christians into hostile sects and sometimes into hostile camps, and which so far as i can see, after years of patient study, have no necessary connection with the simple, living truths taught by our saviour, and had taken only their new testaments and their earnest desire to do good, the history of missions would have been widely different. how of the earth earthy seemed the walls that divided the delegates to the world's great congress of religions, recently held in chicago, and how altogether divine the love which like an endless golden chain joined all in one. whatever others may think, it is my firm belief that buddhism and christianity, which we cannot doubt have influenced for good such vast masses the human family, both descended from heaven clothed in robes of celestial purity which have become sadly stained by their contact with the selfishness of a sinful world, except for which belief the following pages would never have been written, which are now sent forth in the hope that they may do something to enable buddhists and christians to see eye to eye and something to promote peace and good-will among men. while following my own conceptions and even fancies in many things, i believe the leading characters and incidents to be historical, and i have given nothing as the teaching of the great master which was not to my mind clearly authenticated. to those who have read so much about agnostic buddhism, and about nirvana meaning annihilation, it may seem bold in me to present buddha as an undoubting believer in the fundamental truths of all religion, and as not only a believer in a spiritual world but an actual visitor to its sad and blissful scenes; but the only agnosticism i have been able to trace to buddha was a want of faith in the many ways invented through the ages to escape the consequences of sin and to avoid the necessity of personal purification, and the only annihilation he taught and yearned for was the annihilation of self in the highest christian sense, and escape from that body of death from which the apostle paul so earnestly sought deliverance. doubtless agnosticism and almost every form of belief and unbelief subsequently sprang up among the intensely acute and speculative peoples of the east known under the general name of buddhists, as they did among the less acute and speculative peoples of the west known as christians; but the one is no more primitive buddhism than the other is primitive christianity. while there are innumerable poetic legends--of which spence hardy's "manual of buddhism" is a great storehouse, and many of which are given by arnold in his beautiful poem--strewn thick along the track of buddhist literature, constantly tempting one to leave the straight path of the development of a great religion, i have carefully avoided what did not commend itself to my mind as either historical or spiritual truth. it was my original design to follow the wonderful career of buddha until his long life closed with visions of the golden city much as described in revelation, and then to follow that most wonderful career of buddhist missions, not only through india and ceylon, but to palestine, greece and egypt, and over the table-lands of asia and through the chinese empire to japan, and thence by the black stream to mexico and central america, and then to follow the wise men of the east until the light of the world dawned on them on the plains of bethlehem--a task but half accomplished, which i shall yet complete if life and strength are spared. a valued literary friend suggests that the social life described in the following pages is too much like ours, but why should their daily life and social customs be greatly different from ours? the aryan migrations to india and to europe were in large masses, of course taking their social customs, or as the romans would say, their household gods, with them. what wonder, then, that the home as tacitus describes it in the "wilds of germany" was substantially what mueller finds from the very structure of the sanscrit and european languages it must have been in bactria, the common cradle of the aryan race. there can scarcely be a doubt that twenty-five hundred years ago the daily life and social customs in the north of india, which had been under undisputed aryan control long enough for the sanscrit language to spring up, come to perfection and finally become obsolete, were more like ours than like those of modern india after the, many--and especially the mohammedan--conquests and after centuries of oppression and alien rule. if a thousand english-speaking aryans should now be placed on some distant island, how much would their social customs and even amusements differ from ours in a hundred years? only so far as changed climate and surrounding's compelled. i give as an introduction an outline of the golden, silver, brazen and iron ages, as described by the ancient poets and believed in by all antiquity, as it was in the very depths of the darkness of the iron age that our great light appeared in northern india. the very denseness of the darkness of the age in which he came makes the clearness of the light more wonderful, and accounts for the joy with which it was received and the rapidity with which it spread. not to enter into the niceties of chronological questions, the mission of buddha may be roughly said to have commenced about five hundred years before the commencement of our era, and with incessant labors and long and repeated journeys to have lasted forty-five years, when at about the age of eighty he died, or, as the buddhists more truthfully and more beautifully say, entered nirvana. henry t. niles. toledo, january , . * * * * * since this work was in the hands of the printer i have read the recent work of bishop copelston, of columbo, ceylon, and it was a source of no small gratification to find him in all material points agreeing with the result of my somewhat extensive investigations as given within, for in ceylon, if anywhere, we would expect accuracy. here the great buddhist development first comes in contact with authentic history during the third century b.c. in the reign of the great asoka, the discovery of whose rock inscriptions shed such a flood of light on primitive buddhism, while it still retained enough of its primitive power, as we learn from those inscriptions themselves, to turn that monarch from a course of cruel tyranny, and, as we learn from the history of ceylon, to induce his son and daughter to abandon royalty and become the first missionaries to that beautiful island. h.t.n. introduction. the golden age--when men were brothers all, the golden rule their law and god their king; when no fierce beasts did through the forests roam, nor poisonous reptiles crawl upon the ground; when trees bore only wholesome, luscious fruits, and thornless roses breathed their sweet perfumes; when sickness, sin and sorrow were unknown, and tears but spoke of joy too deep for words; when painless death but led to higher life, a life that knows no end, in that bright world whence angels on the ladder jacob saw, descending, talk with man as friend to friend-- that age of purity and peace had passed, but left a living memory behind, cherished and handed down from sire to son through all the scattered peoples of the earth, a living prophecy of what this world, this sad and sinful world, might yet become. the silver age--an age of faith, not sight-- came next, when reason ruled instead of love; when men as through a glass but darkly saw what to their fathers clearly stood revealed in god's own light of love-illumined truth, of which the sun that rising paints the east, and whose last rays with glory gild the west, is but an outbirth. then were temples reared, and priests 'mid clouds of incense sang his praise who out of densest darkness called the light, and from his own unbounded fullness made the heavens and earth and all that in them is. then landmarks were first set, lest men contend for god's free gifts, that all in peace had shared. then laws were made to govern those whose sires were laws unto themselves. then sickness came, and grief and pain attended men from birth to death. but still a silver light lined every cloud, and hope was given to cheer and comfort men. the brazen age, brilliant but cold, succeeds. this was an age of knowledge, art and war, when the knights-errant of the ancient world, adventures seeking, roamed with brazen swords which by a wondrous art--then known, now lost-- were hard as flint, and edged to cut a hair or cleave in twain a warrior armor-clad and armed with shields adorned by vulcan's art, wonder of coming times and theme for bards.[ ] then science searched through nature's heights and depths. heaven's canopy thick set with stars was mapped, the constellations named, and all the laws searched out that guide their motions, rolling sphere on sphere.[ ] then men by reasonings piled up mountain high thought to scale heaven, and to dethrone heaven's king, whose imitators weak, with quips and quirks and ridicule would now destroy all sacred things. this age great homer and old hesiod sang, and gods they made of hero, artist, bard. at length this twilight of the ages fades, and starless night now sinks upon the world-- an age of iron, cruel, dark and cold. on asia first this outer darkness fell, once seat of paradise, primordial peace, perennial harmony and perfect love. a despot's will was then a nation's law; an idol's car crushed out poor human lives, and human blood polluted many shrines. then human speculation made of god a shoreless ocean, distant, waveless, vast, of truth that sees not and unfeeling love, whence souls as drops were taken back to fall, absorbed and lost, when, countless ages passed, they should complete their round as souls of men, of beasts, of birds and of all creeping things. and, even worse, the cruel iron castes, one caste too holy for another's touch, had every human aspiration crushed, the common brotherhood of man destroyed, and made all men but pharisees or slaves. and worst of all--and what could e'en be worse?-- woman, bone of man's bone, flesh of his flesh, the equal partner of a double life, who in the world's best days stood by his side to lighten every care, and heighten every joy, and in the world's decline still clung to him, she only true when all beside were false, when all were cruel she alone still kind, light of his hearth and mistress of his home, sole spot where peace and joy could still be found-- woman herself cast down, despised was made slave to man's luxury and brutal lust. then war was rapine, havoc, needless blood, infants impaled before their mothers' eyes, women dishonored, mutilated, slain, parents but spared to see their children die. then peace was but a faithless, hollow truce, with plots and counter-plots; the dagger's point and poisoned cup instead of open war; and life a savage, grim conspiracy of mutual murder, treachery and greed. o dark and cruel age! o cruel creeds! o cruel men! o crushed and bleeding hearts, that from the very ground in anguish cry: "is there no light--no hope--no help--no god?" [ ]see hesiod's description of the shield of hercules, the st. george of that ancient age of chivalry. [ ]see the celebrated zodiac of denderah, given in landseer's "sabaean researches," and in napoleon's "egypt." the dawn and the day or the buddha and the christ. book i. northward from ganges' stream and india's plains an ancient city crowned a lofty hill, whose high embattled walls had often rolled the surging, angry tide of battle back. walled on three sides, but on the north a cliff, at once the city's quarry and its guard, cut out in galleries, with vaulted roofs[ ] upborne upon cyclopean columns vast, chiseled with art, their capitals adorned with lions, elephants, and bulls, life size, once dedicate to many monstrous gods before the aryan race as victors came, then prisons, granaries and magazines, now only known to bandits and wild beasts. this cliff, extending at each end, bends north, and rises in two mountain-chains that end in two vast snow-capped himalayan peaks, between which runs a glittering glacial stream, a mighty moving mass of crystal ice, crushing the rocks in its resistless course; from which bursts forth a river that had made of all this valley one great highland lake, which on one side had burst its bounds and cut in myriad years a channel through the rock, so narrow that a goat might almost leap from cliff to cliff--these cliffs so smooth and steep the eagles scarce could build upon their sides; this yawning chasm so deep one scarce could hear the angry waters roaring far below. this stream, guided by art, now fed a lake above the city and behind this cliff, which, guided thence in channels through the rock, fed many fountains, sending crystal streams through every street and down the terraced hill, and through the plain in little silver streams, spreading the richest verdure far and wide.[ ] here was the seat of king suddhodana, his royal park, walled by eternal hills, where trees and shrubs and flowers all native grew; for in its bounds all the four seasons met, from ever-laughing, ever-blooming spring to savage winter with eternal snows. here stately palms, the banyan's many trunks, darkening whole acres with its grateful shade, and bamboo groves, with graceful waving plumes, the champak, with its fragrant golden flowers, asokas, one bright blaze of brilliant bloom, the mohra, yielding food and oil and wine, the sacred sandal and the spreading oak, the mountain-loving fir and spruce and pine, and giant cedars, grandest of them all, planted in ages past, and thinned and pruned with that high art that hides all trace of art,[ ] were placed to please the eye and show their form in groves, in clumps, in jungles and alone. here all a forest seemed; there open groves, with vine-clad trees, vines hanging from each limb, a pendant chain of bloom, with shaded drives and walks, with rustic seats, cool grots and dells, with fountains playing and with babbling brooks, and stately swans sailing on little lakes, while peacocks, rainbow-tinted shrikes, pheasants, glittering like precious stones, parrots, and birds of all rich plumage, fly from tree to tree, the whole scene vocal with sweet varied song; and here a widespread lawn bedecked with flowers, with clumps of brilliant roses grown to trees, and fields with dahlias spread,[ ] not stiff and prim like the starched ruffle of an ancient dame, but growing in luxuriance rich and wild, the colors of the evening and the rainbow joined, white, scarlet, yellow, crimson, deep maroon, blending all colors in one dazzling blaze; there orchards bend beneath their luscious loads; here vineyards climb the hills thick set with grapes; there rolling pastures spread, where royal mares, high bred, and colts too young for bit or spur, now quiet feed, then, as at trumpet's call, with lion bounds, tails floating, neck outstretched,[ ] nostrils distended, fleet as the flying wind they skim the plain, and sweep in circles wide-- nature's olympic, copied, ne'er excelled. here, deer with dappled fawn bound o'er the grass,[ ] and sacred herds, and sheep with skipping lambs; there, great white elephants in quiet nooks; while high on cliffs framed in with living green goats climb and seem to hang and feed in air-- sweet spot, with all to please and nothing to offend. here on a hill the royal palace stood, a gem of art; and near, another hill, its top crowned by an aged banyan tree, its sides clad in strange jyotismati grass,[ ] by day a sober brown, but in the night glowing as if the hill were all aflame-- twin wonders to the dwellers in the plain, their guides and landmarks day and night, this glittering palace and this glowing hill. within, above the palace rose a tower, which memory knew but as the ancient tower, foursquare and high, an altar and a shrine on its broad top, where burned perpetual fire, emblem of boundless and eternal love and truth that knows no night, no cloud, no change, long since gone out, with that most ancient faith in one great father, source of life and light.[ ] still round this ancient tower, strange hopes and fears, and memories handed down from sire to son, were clustered thick. an army, old men say, once camped against the city, when strange lights burst from this tower, blinding their dazzled eyes. they fled amazed, nor dared to look behind. the people bloody war and cruel bondage saw on every side, and they at peace and free, and thought a power to save dwelt in that tower. and now strange prophecies and sayings old were everywhere rehearsed, that from this hill should come a king or savior of the world. even the poor dwellers in the distant plain looked up; they too had heard that hence should come one quick to hear the poor and strong to save. and who shall dare to chide their simple faith? this humble reverence for the great unknown brings men near god, and opens unseen worlds, whence comes all life, and where all power doth dwell. morning and evening on this tower the king, before the rising and the setting sun, blindly, but in his father's faith, bowed down. then he would rise and on his kingdom gaze. east, west, hills beyond hills stretched far away, wooded, terraced, or bleak and bald and bare, till in dim distance all were leveled lost. one rich and varied carpet spread far south, of fields, of groves, of busy cities wrought, with mighty rivers seeming silver threads; and to the north the himalayan chain, peak beyond peak, a wall of crest and crag, ice bound, snow capped, backed by intensest blue, untrod, immense, that, like a crystal wall. in myriad varied tints the glorious light of rising and of setting sun reflects; his noble city lying at his feet, and his broad park, tinged by the sun's slant rays a thousand softly rich and varied shades. still on this scene of grandeur, plenty, peace and ever-varying beauty, he would gaze with sadness. he had heard these prophecies, and felt the unrest in that great world within, hid from our blinded eyes, yet ever near, the very soul and life of this dead world, which seers and prophets open-eyed have seen, on which the dying often raptured gaze, and where they live when they are mourned as dead. this world was now astir, foretelling day. "a king shall come, they say, to rule the world, if he will rule; but whence this mighty king? my years decline apace, and yet no son of mine to rule or light my funeral pile." one night queen maya, sleeping by her lord, dreamed a strange dream; she dreamed she saw a star gliding from heaven and resting over her; she dreamed she heard strange music, soft and sweet, so distant "joy and peace" was all she heard. in joy and peace she wakes, and waits to know what this strange dream might mean, and whence it came. drums, shells and trumpets sound for joy, not war; the streets are swept and sprinkled with perfumes, and myriad lamps shine from each house and tree, and myriad flags flutter in every breeze, and children crowned with flowers dance in the streets, and all keep universal holiday with shows and games, and laugh and dance and song, for to the gentle queen a son is born, to king suddhodana the good an heir. but scarcely had these myriad lamps gone out, the sounds of revelry had scarcely died, when coming from the palace in hot haste, one cried, "maya, the gentle queen, is dead." then mirth was changed to sadness, joy to grief, for all had learned to love the gentle queen-- but at siddartha's birth this was foretold. among the strangers bringing gifts from far, there came an ancient sage--whence, no one knew-- age-bowed, head like the snow, eyes filmed and white, so deaf the thunder scarcely startled him, who met them, as they said, three journeys back, and all his talk was of a new-born king, just born, to rule the world if he would rule. he was so gentle, seemed so wondrous wise, they followed him, he following, he said, a light they could not see; and when encamped, morn, noon and night devoutly would he pray, and then would talk for hours, as friend to friend, with questionings about this new-born king, gazing intently at the tent's blank wall, with nods and smiles, as if he saw and heard, while they sit lost in wonder, as one sits who never saw a telephone, but hears unanswered questions, laughter at unheard jests, and sees one bid a little box good-by. and when they came before the king, they saw, laughing and cooing on its mother's knee, picture of innocence, a sweet young child; he saw a mighty prophet, and bowed down eight times in reverence to the very ground, and rising said, "thrice happy house, all hail! this child would rule the world, if he would rule, but he, too good to rule, is born to save; but maya's work is done, the devas wait." but when they sought for him, the sage was gone, whence come or whither gone none ever knew. then gentle maya understood her dream. the music nearer, clearer sounds; she sleeps. but when the funeral pile was raised for her, of aloe, sandal, and all fragrant woods, and decked with flowers and rich with rare perfumes, and when the queen was gently laid thereon, as in sweet sleep, and the pile set aflame, the king cried out in anguish; when the sage again appeared, and gently said, "weep not! seek not, o king, the living with the dead! 'tis but her cast-off garment, not herself, that now dissolves in air. thy loved one lives, become thy deva,[ ] who was erst thy queen." this said, he vanished, and was no more seen. now other hands take up that mother's task. another breast nurses that sweet young child with growing love; for who can nurse a child, feel its warm breath, and little dimpled hands, kiss its soft lips, look in its laughing eyes, hear its low-cooing love-notes soft and sweet, and not feel something of that miracle, a mother's love--so old yet ever new, stronger than death, bravest among the brave, gentle as brave, watchful both night and day, that never changes, never tires nor sleeps. whence comes this wondrous and undying love? whence can it come, unless it comes from heaven, whose life is love--eternal, perfect love! from babe to boy, from boy to youth he grew, but more in grace and knowledge than in years. at play his joyous laugh rang loud and clear, his foot was fleetest in all boyish games, and strong his arm, and steady nerve and eye, to whirl the quoit and send the arrow home; yet seeming oft to strive, he'd check his speed and miss his mark to let a comrade win. in fullness of young life he climbed the cliffs where human foot had never trod before. he led the chase, but when soft-eyed gazelles or bounding deer, or any harmless thing, came in the range of his unerring dart, he let them pass; for why, thought he, should men in wantonness make war on innocence? one day the prince siddartha saw the grooms gathered about a stallion, snowy white, descended from that great nisaean stock his fathers brought from iran's distant plain, named kantaka. some held him fast with chains till one could mount. he, like a lion snared, frantic with rage and fear, did fiercely bound. they cut his tender mouth with bloody bit, beating his foaming sides until the prince, sterner than was his wont, bade them desist, while he spoke soothingly, patted his head and stroked his neck, and dropped those galling chains, when kantaka's fierce flaming eyes grew mild, he quiet stood, by gentleness subdued-- such mighty power hath gentleness and love-- and from that day no horse so strong and fleet, so kind and true, easy to check and guide, as kantaka, siddartha's noble steed. to playmates he was gentle as a girl; yet should the strong presume upon their strength to overbear or wrong those weaker than themselves, his sturdy arm and steady eye checked them, and he would gently say, "brother, not so; our strength was given to aid and not oppress." for in an ancient book he found a truth-- a book no longer read, a truth forgot, entombed in iron castes, and buried deep in speculations and in subtle creeds-- that men, high, low, rich, poor, are brothers all,[ ] which, pondered much in his heart's fruitful soil, had taken root as a great living truth that to a mighty doctrine soon would grow, a mighty tree to heal the nations with its leaves-- like some small grain of wheat, appearing dead, in mummy-case three thousand years ago[ ] securely wrapped and sunk in egypt's tombs, themselves buried beneath the desert sands, which now brought forth, and planted in fresh soil, and watered by the dews and rains of heaven, shoots up and yields a hundred-fold of grain, until in golden harvests now it waves on myriad acres, many thousand miles from where the single ancient seed had grown. thus he grew up with all that heart could wish or power command; his very life itself, so fresh and young, sound body with sound mind, the living fountain of perpetual joy. yet he would often sit and sadly think sad thoughts and deep, and far beyond his years; how sorrow filled the world; how things were shared-- one born to waste, another born to want; one for life's cream, others to drain its dregs; one born a master, others abject slaves. and when he asked his masters to explain, when all were brothers, how such things could be, they gave him speculations, fables old, how brahm first brahmans made to think for all, and then kshatriyas, warriors from their birth, then sudras, to draw water and hew wood. "but why should one for others think, when all must answer for themselves? why brothers fight? and why one born another's slave, when all might serve and help each other?" he would ask. but they could only answer: "never doubt, for so the holy brahmans always taught." still he must think, and as he thought he sighed, not for his petty griefs that last an hour, but for the bitter sorrows of the world that crush all men, and last from age to age. the good old king saw this--saw that the prince, the apple of his eye, dearer than life, stately in form, supple and strong in limb, quick to learn every art of peace and war, displaying and excelling every grace and attribute of his most royal line, whom all would follow whereso'er he led, so fit to rule the world if he would rule, thought less of ruling than of saving men. he saw the glory of his ancient house suspended on an if--if he will rule the empire of the world, and power to crush those cruel, bloody kings who curse mankind, and power to make a universal peace; if not this high career, with glory crowned, then seeking truth through folly's devious ways; by self-inflicted torture seeking bliss, and by self-murder seeking higher life; on one foot standing till the other pine, arms stretched aloft, fingers grown bloodless claws, or else, impaled on spikes, with festering sores covered from head to foot, the body wastes with constant anguish and with slow decay.[ ] "can this be wisdom? can such a life be good that shuns all duties lying in our path-- useless to others, filled with grief and pain? not so my father's god teaches to live. rising each morning most exact in time, he bathes the earth and sky with rosy light and fills all nature with new life and joy; the cock's shrill clarion calls us to awake and breathe this life and hear the bursts of song that fill each grove, inhale the rich perfume of opening flowers, and work while day shall last. then rising higher, he warms each dank, cold spot, dispels the sickening vapors, clothes the fields with waving grain, the trees with golden fruit, the vines with grapes; and when 'tis time for rest, sinks in the west, and with new glory gilds the mountain-tops, the clouds and western sky, and calls all nature to refreshing sleep. if he be god, the useful are like god; if not, god made the sun, who made all men and by his great example teaches them the diligent are wise, the useful good." sorely perplexed he called his counselors, grown gray in serving their beloved king, and said: "friends of my youth, manhood and age, so wise in counsel and so brave in war, who never failed in danger or distress, oppressed with fear, i come to you for aid. you know the prophecies, that from my house shall come a king, or savior of the world. you saw strange signs precede siddartha's birth, and saw the ancient sage whom no one knew fall down before the prince, and hail my house. you heard him tell the queen she soon would die, and saw her sink in death as in sweet sleep; you laid her gently on her funeral pile, and heard my cry of anguish, when the sage again appeared and bade me not to weep for her as dead who lived and loved me still. we saw the prince grow up to man's estate, so strong and full of manliness and grace, and wise beyond his teachers and his years, and thought in him the prophecies fulfilled, and that with glory he would rule the world and bless all men with universal peace. but now dark shadows fall athwart our hopes. often in sleep the prince will start and cry as if in pain, 'o world, sad world, i come!' but roused, he'll sometimes sit the livelong day, forgetting teachers, sports and even food, as if with dreadful visions overwhelmed, or buried in great thoughts profound and deep. but yet to see our people, riding forth, to their acclaims he answers with such grace and gentle stateliness, my heart would swell as i would hear the people to each other say; 'who ever saw such grace and grandeur joined?' yet while he answers gladness with like joy, his eyes seem searching for the sick and old, the poor, and maimed, and blind--all forms of grief, and oft he'd say, tears streaming from his eyes,[ ] 'let us return; my heart can bear no more.' one day we saw beneath a peepul-tree an aged brahman, wasted with long fasts, loathsome with self-inflicted ghastly wounds, a rigid skeleton, standing erect, one hand stretched out, the other stretched aloft, his long white beard grown filthy by neglect. whereat the prince with shuddering horror shook, and cried, 'o world! must i be such for thee?' and once he led the chase of a wild boar in the great forest near the glacier's foot; on kantaka so fleet he soon outstripped the rest, and in the distance disappeared. but when at night they reached the rendezvous, siddartha was not there; and through the night they searched, fearing to find their much loved prince a mangled corpse under some towering cliff, but searched in vain, and searched again next day, till in despair they thought to bring me word the prince was lost, when kantaka was seen loose-reined and free, and near siddartha sat under a giant cedar's spreading shade. absorbed in thought, in contemplation lost, unconscious that a day and night had passed. i cannot reason with such earnestness-- i dare not chide such deep and tender love, but much i fear his reason's overthrow or that he may become like that recluse he shuddered at, and not a mighty king with power to crush the wrong and aid the right. how can we turn his mind from such sad thoughts to life's full joys, the duties of a king, and his great destiny so long foretold?" the oldest and the wisest answered him: "most noble king, your thoughts have long been mine. oft have i seen him lost in musings sad, and overwhelmed with this absorbing love. i know no cure for such corroding thoughts but thoughts less sad, for such absorbing love but stronger love." "but how awake such thoughts?" the king replied. "how kindle such a love? his loves seem but as phosphorescent flames that skim the surface, leaving him heart-whole-- all but this deep and all-embracing love that folds within its arms a suffering world." "yes, noble king, so roams the antlered deer, adding each year a branch to his great horns, until the unseen archer lays him low. so lives our prince; but he may see the day two laughing eyes shall pierce his inmost soul, and make his whole frame quiver with new fire. the next full moon he reaches man's estate. we all remember fifty years ago when you became a man, the sports and games, the contests of fair women and brave men, in beauty, arts and arms, that filled three days with joy and gladness, music, dance and song. let us with double splendor now repeat that festival, with prizes that shall draw from all your kingdom and the neighbor states their fairest women and their bravest men. if any chance shall bring his destined mate, you then shall see love dart from eye to eye, as darts the lightning's flash from cloud to cloud." and this seemed good, and so was ordered done. the king to all his kingdom couriers sent, and to the neighbor states, inviting all to a great festival and royal games the next full moon, day of siddartha's birth, and offering varied prizes, rich and rare, to all in feats of strength and speed and skill, and prizes doubly rich and doubly rare to all such maidens fair as should compete in youth and beauty, whencesoe'er they came, the prince to be the judge and give the prize. now all was joy and bustle in the streets, and joy and stir in palace and in park, the prince himself joining the joyful throng, forgetting now the sorrows of the world. devising and directing new delights until the park became a fairy scene. behind the palace lay a maidan wide for exercise in arms and manly sports, its sides bordered by gently rising hills, where at their ease the city's myriads sat under the shade of high-pruned spreading trees, fanned by cool breezes from the snow-capped peaks; while north, and next the lake, a stately dome stood out, on slender, graceful columns raised, with seats, rank above rank, in order placed, the throne above, and near the throne were bowers of slender lattice-work, with trailing vines, thick set with flowers of every varied tint, breathing perfumes, where beauty's champions might sit, unseen of all yet seeing all. at length siddartha's natal day arrives with joy to rich and poor, to old and young--- not joy that wealth can buy or power command, but real joy, that springs from real love, love to the good old king and noble prince. when dawning day tinges with rosy light the snow-capped peaks of himalaya's chain, the people are astir. in social groups, the old and young, companions, neighbors, friends, baskets well filled, they choose each vantage-ground, until each hill a sea of faces shows, a sea of sparkling joy and rippling mirth. at trumpet-sound all eyes are eager turned up toward the palace gates, now open wide, from whence a gay procession issues forth, a chorus of musicians coming first, and next the prince mounted on kantaka; then all the high-born, youth in rich attire, mounted on prancing steeds with trappings gay; and then the good old king, in royal state, on his huge elephant, white as the snow, surrounded by his aged counselors, some on their chargers, some in litters borne, their long white beards floating in every breeze; and next, competitors for every prize: twelve archers, who could pierce the lofty swans sailing from feeding-grounds by distant seas to summer nests by thibet's marshy lakes, or hit the whirring pheasant as it flies-- for in this peaceful reign they did not make men targets for their art, and armor-joints the marks through which to pierce and kill; then wrestlers, boxers, those who hurl the quoit, and runners fleet, both lithe and light of limb; and then twelve mighty spearmen, who could pierce the fleeing boar or deer or fleet gazelle; then chariots, three horses yoked to each, the charioteers in persian tunics clad, arms bare, legs bare--all were athletes in power, in form and race each an apollo seemed; yoked to the first were three nisaean steeds,[ ] each snowy white, proud stepping, rangy, tall, chests broad, legs clean and strong, necks arched and high, with foreheads broad, and eyes large, full and mild, a race that oft olympic prizes won, and whose descendants far from iran's plains bore armored knights in battle's deadly shock on many bloody european fields; then three of ancient babylonian stock,[ ] blood bay and glossy as rich tyrian silk-- such horses israel's sacred prophets saw bearing their conquerors in triumph home, a race for ages kept distinct and pure, fabled from alexander's charger sprung; then three from distant desert tartar steppes, ewe-necked, ill-favored creatures, lank and gaunt, that made the people laugh as they passed by-- who ceased to laugh when they had run the race-- such horses bore the mighty mongol hosts[ ] that with the cyclone's speed swept o'er the earth; then three, one gray, one bay, one glossy black, descended from four horses long since brought by love-sick chief from araby the blest, seeking with such rare gifts an indian bride, whose slender, graceful forms, compact and light, combined endurance, beauty, strength and speed-- a wondrous breed, whose famed descendants bore the moslem hosts that swept from off the earth thy mighty power, corrupt, declining rome, and with each other now alone contend in speed, whose sons cast out, abused and starved, alone can save from raging whirlwind flames[ ] that all-devouring sweep our western plains; then stately elephants came next in line, with measured step and gently swaying gait, covered with cloth of gold richly inwrought, each bearing in a howdah gaily decked a fair competitor for beauty's prize, with merry comrades and some sober friend; the vina, bansuli, sitar and harp filling the air with sweetest melody, while rippling laughter from each howdah rang, and sweetest odors, as from op'ning flowers, breathed from their rich apparel as they passed. and thus they circle round the maidan wide, and as they pass along the people shout, "long live the king! long live our noble prince!" to all which glad acclaims the prince responds with heartfelt courtesy and royal grace. when they had nearly reached the palace gate on their return, the king drew to the right with his attendants, while the prince with his drew to the left, reviewing all the line that passed again down to the judges' seat, under the king's pavilion near the lake. the prince eagerly watched them as they passed, noting their brawny limbs and polished arms, the pose and skill of every charioteer, the parts and varied breed of every horse, aiding his comrades with his deeper skill. but when the queens of beauty passed him by, he was all smiles and gallantry and grace, until the last, yasodhara, came near, whose laugh was clearest of the merry crowd, whose golden hair imprisoned sunlight seemed, whose cheek, blending the lily with the rose, spoke of more northern skies and aryan blood, whose rich, not gaudy, robes exquisite taste had made to suit her so they seemed a part of her sweet self; whose manner, simple, free, not bold or shy, whose features--no one saw her features, for her soul covered her face as with a veil of ever-moving life. when she came near, and her bright eyes met his, he seemed to start; his gallantry was gone, and like an awkward boy he sat and gazed; and her laugh too was hushed, and she passed on, passed out of sight but never out of mind, the king and all his counselors saw this. "good king, our deer is struck," asita said, "if this love cure him not, nothing can cure." [ ]lieutenant-general briggs, in his lectures on the aboriginal races of india, says the hindoos themselves refer the excavation of caves and temples to the period of the aboriginal kings. [ ]the art of irrigation, once practiced on such a mighty scale, now seems practically a lost art but just now being revived on our western plains. [ ]"and, that which all faire workes doth most aggrace, the art, which all that wrought, appeared in no place." --faerie queene, b. , canto . [ ]see miss gordon cumming's descriptions of the fields of wild dahlias in northern india. [ ]by far the finest display of the mettle and blood of high-bred horses i have ever seen has been in the pasture-field, and this description is drawn from life. [ ]once, coming upon a little prairie in the midst of a great forest, i saw a herd of startled deer bound over the grass, a scene never to be forgotten. [ ]see miss gordon cumming's description of a hill covered with this luminous grass. [ ]there can be no doubt that the fire-worship of the east is the remains of a true but largely emblematic religion. [ ]the difference between the buddhist idea of a deva and the christian idea of an attendant angel is scarcely perceptible. [ ]the brahmans claim that buddha's great doctrine of universal brotherhood was taken from their sacred books and was not an originality of buddha, as his followers claim. [ ]the mediterranean or egyptian wheat is said to have this origin. [ ]at the time of buddha's birth there seemed to be no mean between the chakravartin or absolute monarch and the recluse who had renounced all ordinary duties and enjoyments, and was subjecting himself to all deprivations and sufferings. buddha taught the middle course of diligence in daily duties and universal love. [ ]i am aware that some buddhist authors whom arnold has followed in his "light of asia" make buddha but little better than a stale prisoner, and would have us believe that the glimpses he got of the ills that flesh is heir to were gained in spite of all precautions, as he was occasionally taken out of his rose embowered, damsel filled prison-house, and not as any prince of high intelligence and tender sensibilities who loved his people and mingled freely with them would gain a knowledge of suffering and sorrow; but we are justified in passing all such fancies, not only on account of their intrinsic improbability, but because the great asvaghosha, who wrote about the beginning of our era, knew nothing of them. [ ]to suppose that the aryan races when they emigrated to india or europe left behind them their most valuable possession, the nisaean horse, is to suppose them lacking in the qualities of thrift and shrewdness which have distinguished their descendants. that the nisaean horse of the table-lands of asia was the horse of the armored knights of the middle ages and substantially the percheron horse of france, i had a curious proof: in layard's nineveh is a picture of a nisaean horse found among the ruins, which would have been taken as a good picture of a percheron stallion i once owned, who stood for the picture here drawn of what i regard as his undoubted ancestor. [ ]marco polo speaks of the breed of horses here attempted to be described as "excellent, large, strong and swift, said to be of the race of alexander's bucephalus." [ ]it is said that the mongolians in their career of conquest could move an army of , fifty miles a day, a speed out of the question with all the facilities of modern warfare. [ ]see bret harte's beautiful poem, "sell patchin," and also an article on the "horses of the plains," in _the century_, january, . book ii. she passed along, and then the king and prince with their attendants wheeled in line and moved down to the royal stand, each to his place. the trumpets sound, and now the games begin. but see the scornful curl of culture's lip at such low sports! dyspeptic preachers hear harangue the sleepers on their sinfulness! hear grave philosophers, so limp and frail they scarce can walk god's earth to breathe his air, talk of the waste of time! short-sighted men! god made the body just to fit the mind, each part exact, no scrimping and no waste-- neglect the body and you cramp the soul. first brawny wrestlers, shining from the bath, wary and watchful, quick with arm and eye, after long play clinch close, arms twined, knees locked, each nerve and muscle strained, and stand as still as if a bronze from vulcan's fabled shop, or else by power of magic changed to stone in that supremest moment, when a breath or feather's weight would tip the balanced scale; and when they fall the shouts from hill to hill sound like the voices of the mighty deep, as wave on wave breaks on the rock-bound shore. then boxers, eye to eye and foot to foot, one arm at guard, the other raised to strike. the hurlers of the quoit next stand in line, measure the distance with experienced eye, adjust the rings, swing them with growing speed, until at length on very tiptoe poised, like mercury just lighted on the earth, with mighty force they whirl them through the air. and then the spearmen, having for a mark a lion rampant, standing as in life, so distant that it seemed but half life-size, each vital part marked with a little ring. and when the spears were hurled, six trembling stood fixed in the beast, piercing each vital part, leaving the victory in even scale. for these was set far off a lesser mark, until at length by chance, not lack of skill, the victory so long in doubt was won. and then again the people wildly shout, the prince victor and nobly vanquished praised. next runners, lithe and light, glide round the plain, whose flying feet like mercury's seemed winged, their chests expanded, and their swinging arms like oars to guide and speed their rapid course; and as they passed along the people cheered each well-known master of the manly art. then archers, with broad chests and brawny arms such as the blacksmith's heavy hammer wields with quick, hard blows that make the anvil ring and myriad sparks from the hot iron fly; a golden eagle on a screen their mark, so distant that it seemed a sparrow's size-- "for," said the prince, "let not this joyful day give anguish to the smallest living thing." they strain their bows until their muscles seem like knotted cords, the twelve strings twang at once, and the ground trembles as at the swelling tones of mighty organs or the thunder's roll. two arrows pierce the eagle, while the rest all pierce the screen. a second mark was set, when lo! high up in air two lines of swans, having one leader, seek their northern nests, their white plumes shining in the noonday sun, calling each other in soft mellow notes. instant one of the people cries "a mark!" whereat the thousands shout "a mark! a mark!" one of the archers chose the leader, one the last. their arrows fly. the last swan left its mates as if sore wounded, while the first came down like a great eagle swooping for its prey, and fell before the prince, its strong wing pierced, its bright plumes darkened by its crimson blood. whereat the people shout, and shout again, until the hills repeat the mighty sound. the prince gently but sadly raised the bird, stroked tenderly its plumes, calmed its wild fear, and gave to one to care for and to cure. and now the people for the chariot-race grow eager, while beneath the royal stand, by folding doors hid from the public view, the steeds, harnessed and ready, champ their bits and paw the ground, impatient for the start. the charioteers alert, with one strong hand hold high the reins, the other holds the lash. timour--a name that since has filled the world, a tartar chief, whose sons long after swept as with destruction's broom fair india's plains-- with northern jargon calmed his eager steeds; azim, from cashmere's rugged lovely vale, his prancing babylonians firmly held; channa, from ganges' broad and sacred stream, with bit and word checked his nisaean three; while devadatta, cousin to the prince, soothed his impatient arabs with such terms as fondest mothers to their children use; "atair, my pet! mira, my baby, hush! regil, my darling child, be still! be still!" with necks high arched, nostrils distended wide, and eager gaze, they stood as those that saw some distant object in their desert home. at length the gates open as of themselves, when at the trumpet's sound the steeds dash forth as by one spirit moved, under tight rein, and neck and neck they thunder down the plain, while rising dust-clouds chase the flying wheels. but weight, not lack of nerve or spirit, tells; azim and channa urge their steeds in vain, by tartar and light arab left behind as the light galley leaves the man-of-war; they sweat and labor ere a mile is gained, while their light rivals pass the royal stand fresh as at first, just warming to the race. and now the real race at length begins, a double race, such as the romans loved. horses so matched in weight and strength and speed, drivers so matched in skill that as they pass azim and channa seemed a single man. timour and devadatta, side by side, wheel almost touching wheel, dash far ahead. azim and channa, left so far behind, no longer urge a race already lost. the babylonian and nisaean steeds, no longer pressed so far beyond their power, with long and even strides sweep smoothly on, striking the earth as with a single blow, their hot breath rising in a single cloud. arab and tartar with a longer stride and lighter stroke skim lightly o'er the ground. watching the horses with a master's eye, as devadatta and timour four times, azim and channa thrice, swept by the stand, the prince saw that another round would test, not overtax, their powers, and gave the sign, when three loud trumpet-blasts to all proclaimed that running one more round would end the race. these ringing trumpet-calls that brought defeat or victory so near, startle and rouse. the charioteers more ardent urge their steeds; the steeds are with hot emulation fired; the social multitude now cease to talk-- even age stops short in stories often told; boys, downy-chinned, in rough-and-tumble sports like half-grown bears engaged, turn quick and look; and blooming girls, with merry ringing laugh, romping in gentler games, watching meanwhile with sly and sidelong look the rougher sports, turn eagerly to see the scene below; while mothers for the time forget their babes, and lovers who had sought out quiet nooks to tell the tale that all the past has told and coming times will tell, stand mute and gaze. the home-stretch soon is reached, and channa's three by word and lash urged to their topmost speed, the foaming babylonians left behind, while devadatta and timour draw near, a whole round gained, timour a length ahead. but devadatta loosens now his reins, chides his fleet pets, with lash swung high in air wounds their proud spirits, not their tender flesh. with lion-bounds they pass the tartar steeds, that with hot rival rage and open mouths, and flaming eyes, and fierce and angry cries, dash full at regil's side, but dash in vain. fear adding speed, the arabs sweep ahead. meanwhile the prince springs forward from his seat, and all on tiptoe still and eager stand, so that the rumbling of the chariot-wheels, the tramp of flying feet and drivers' cries, alone the universal stillness break-- as when before the bursting of some fearful storm, birds, beasts and men stand mute with trembling awe, while heaven's artillery and roaring winds are in the awful silence only heard. but when the double victory is gained, drums, shells and trumpets mingle with the shouts from hill to hill re-echoed and renewed-- as when, after the morning's threatening bow, dark, lurid, whirling clouds obscure the day, and forked lightnings dart athwart the sky, and angry winds roll up the boiling sea, and thunder, raging winds and warring waves join in one mighty and earth shaking roar. thus end the games, and the procession forms, the king and elders first, contestants next, and last the prince; each victor laurel-crowned, and after each his prize, while all were given some choice memorial of the happy day-- cinctures to all athletes to gird the loins and falling just below the knee, the belt of stoutest leather, joined with silver clasps, the skirt of softest wool or finest silk, adorned with needlework and decked with gems, such as the modest aryans always wore in games intended for the public view, before the greeks became degenerate, and savage rome compelled those noble men whose only crime was love of liberty, by discipline and numbers overwhelmed, bravely defending children, wife and home, naked to fight each other or wild beasts, and called this brutal savagery high sport for them and for their proud degenerate dames, of whom few were what caesar's wife should be. the athletes' prizes all were rich and rare, some costly emblem of their several arts. the archers' prizes all were bows; the first made from the horns of a great mountain-goat that long had ranged the himalayan heights, till some bold hunter climbed his giddy cliffs and brought his unsuspecting victim down. his lofty horns the bowsmith root to root had firmly joined, and polished, bright, and tipped with finest gold, and made a bow worthy of sinhahamu's[ ] mighty arm. the other prizes, bows of lesser strength but better suited to their weaker arms. a chariot, the charioteers' first prize,[ ] its slender hubs made strong with brazen bands, the spokes of whitest ivory polished bright, the fellies ebony, with tires of bronze, each axle's end a brazen tiger's head, the body woven of slender bamboo shoots intwined with silver wire and decked with gold. a mare and colt of the victorious breed the second prize, more worth in timour's eyes. than forty chariots, though each were made of ebony or ivory or gold, and all the laurel india ever grew. the third, a tunic of soft cashmere wool, on which, by skillful needles deftly wrought, the race itself as if in life stood forth. the fourth, a belt to gird the laggard's loins and whip to stimulate his laggard steeds. and thus arrayed they moved once round the course, then to the palace, as a fitter place for beauty's contest than the open plain; the singers chanting a triumphal hymn, while many instruments, deep toned and shrill, and all the multitude, the chorus swell. this day his mission ceased to press the prince, and he forgot the sorrows of the world, so deep and earnest seemed the general joy. even those with grinning skeletons at home in secret closets locked from public view, and care and sorrow rankling at their hearts, joined in the general laugh and swelled the shouts, and seemed full happy though they only seemed. but through the games, while all was noisy mirth, he felt a new, strange feeling at his heart, and ever and anon he stole a glance at beauty's rose-embowered hiding-place, to catch a glimpse of those two laughing eyes, so penetrating yet so soft and mild. and at the royal banquet spread for all it chanced yasodhara sat next the prince-- an accident by older heads designed-- and the few words that such constraint allowed were music to his ears and touched his heart; and when her eyes met his her rosy blush told what her maiden modesty would hide. and at the dance, when her soft hands touched his the music seemed to quicken, time to speed; but when she bowed and passed to other hands, winding the mystic measure of the dance,[ ] the music seemed to slacken, time to halt, or drag his limping moments lingering on. at length, after the dance, the beauties passed before the prince, and each received her prize. so rich and rare that each thought hers the first, a treasure to be kept and shown with pride, and handed down to children yet unborn. but when yasodhara before him stood, the prizes all were gone; but from his neck he took a golden chain thick set with gems, and clasped it round her slender waist, and said: "take this, and keep it for the giver's sake." and from the prince they passed before the king. the proud and stately he would greet with grace, the timid cheer with kind and gracious words. but when yasodhara bowed low and passed, he started, and his color went and came as if oppressed with sudden inward pain. asita, oldest of his counselors, sprang to his side and asked: "what ails the king?" "nothing, my friend, nothing," the king replied, "but the sharp probing of an ancient wound. you know how my sweet queen was loved of all-- but how her life was woven into mine, filling my inmost soul, none e'er can know. my bitter anguish words can never tell, as that sweet life was gently breathed away. time only strengthens this enduring love, and she seems nearer me as i grow old. often in stillest night's most silent hour, when the sly nibbling of a timid mouse in the deep stillness sounds almost as loud as builders' hammers in the busy day, my maya as in life stands by my side. a halo round her head, as she would say: 'a little while, and you shall have your own.' often in deepest sleep she seems to steal into that inmost chamber of my soul vacant for her, and nestle to my heart, breathing a peace my waking hours know not. and when i wake, and turn to clasp my love my sinking heart finds but her vacant place. since that sad day that stole her from my arms i've seen a generation of sweet girls grow up to womanhood, but none like her! hut that bright vision that just flitted by seemed so like her it made me cringe and start. o dear asita, little worth is life, with all its tears and partings, woes and pains, if when its short and fitful fever ends there is no after-life, where death and pain, and sundered ties, and crushed and bleeding hearts, and sad and last farewells are never known." such was the old and such the new-born love; the new quick bursting into sudden flame, warming the soul to active consciousness that man alone is but a severed part of one full, rounded, perfect, living whole; the old a steady but undying flame, a living longing for the loved and lost; but each a real hunger of the soul for what gave paradise its highest bliss, and what in this poor fallen world of ours gives glimpses of its high and happy life. o love! how beautiful! how pure! how sweet! life of the angels that surround god's throne! but when corrupt, pandora's box itself, whence spring all human ills and woes and crimes, the very fire that lights the flames of hell. the festival is past. the crowds have gone, the diligent to their accustomed round of works and days, works to each day assigned, the thoughtless and the thriftless multitude to meet their tasks haphazard as they come, but all the same old story to repeat of cares and sorrows sweetened by some joys. three days the sweet yasodhara remained, for her long journey taking needful rest. but when the rosy dawn next tinged the east and lit the mountain-tops and filled the park with a great burst of rich and varied song, the good old king bade the sweet girl farewell, imprinting on her brow a loving kiss, while welling up from tender memories big tear-drops trickled down his furrowed cheeks. and as her train, escorted by the prince and noble youth, wound slowly down the hill, the rising sun with glory gilds the city that like a diadem circled its brow, while giant shadows stretch across the plain; and when they reach the plain they halt for rest deep in a garden's cooling shade, where flowers that fill the air with grateful fragrance hang by ripening fruits, and where all seems at rest save two young hearts and tiny tireless birds that dart from flower to newer to suck their sweets, and even the brook that babbled down the hill now murmurs dreamily as if asleep. sweet spot! sweet hour! how quick its moments fly! how soon the cooling winds and sinking sun and bustling stir of preparation tells 'tis time for her to go; and when they part, the gentle pressure of the hand, one kiss-- a kiss not given yet not resisted--tells a tale of love that words are poor to tell. and when she goes how lonely seems her way through groves, through fields, through busy haunts of men; and as he climbs the hill and often stops to watch her lessening train until at length her elephant seems but a moving speck, proud kantaka, pawing and neighing, asks as plain as men could ever ask in, words: "what makes my master choose this laggard pace?" at length she climbs those rocky, rugged hills. that guarded well the loveliest spot on earth until the moguls centuries after came, like swarms of locusts swept before the wind, or ravening wolves, to conquer fair cashmere.[ ] and when she reached the top, before her lay, as on a map spread out, her native land, by lofty mountains walled on every side, from winds, from wars, and from the world shut out; the same great snow-capped mountains north and east in silent, glittering, awful grandeur stand, and west the same bold, rugged, cliff-crowned hills. that filled her eyes with wonder when a child. below the snow a belt of deepest green; below this belt of green great rolling hills, checkered with orchards, vineyards, pastures, fields, the vale beneath peaceful as sleeping babe, the city nestling round the shining lake, and near the park and palace, her sweet home. o noble, peaceful, beautiful cashmere! well named the garden of eternal spring! but yet, with home and all its joys so near. she often turned and strained her eager eyes to catch one parting glimpse of that sweet spot where more than half of her young heart was left. at length their horns, whose mocking echoes rolled from hill to hill, were answered from below, while from the park a gay procession comes, increasing as it moves, to welcome her, light of the palace, the people's idol, home. the prince's thoughts by day and dreams by night meanwhile were filled with sweet yasodhara, and this bright vision ever hovering near hid from his eyes those grim and ghastly forms, night-loving and light-shunning brood of sin, that ever haunt poor fallen human lives, and from the darkened corners of the soul are quick to sting each pleasure with sharp pain, to pour some bitter in life's sweetest cup, and shadow with despair its brightest hopes-- made him forget how sorrow fills the world, how strength is used to crush and not to raise, how creeds are bandages to blind men's eyes, lest they should see and walk in duty's path that leads to peace on earth and joy in heaven, and even made him for the time forget his noble mission to restore and save. he sought her for his bride, but waited long, for princes cannot wed like common folk-- friends called, a feast prepared, some bridal gifts, some tears at parting and some solemn vows, rice scattered, slippers thrown with noisy mirth, and common folk are joined till death shall part. till death shall part! o faithless, cruel thought! death ne'er shall part souls joined by holy love, who through life's trials, joys and cares have to each other clung, faithful till death, tender and true in sickness and in health, bearing each other's burdens, sharing griefs, lightening each care and heightening every joy. such life is but a transient honeymoon, a feeble foretaste of eternal joys. but princes when they love, though all approve, must wait on councils, embassies and forms. but how the coach of state lumbers and lags with messages of love whose own light wings glide through all bars, outstrip all fleetest things-- no bird so light, no thought so fleet as they. but while the prince chafed at the long delay, the sweet yasodhara began to feel the bitter pangs of unrequited love. but her young hands, busy with others' wants, and her young heart, busy with others' woes, with acts of kindness filled the lagging hours, best of all medicines for aching hearts. yet often she would seek a quiet nook deep in the park, where giant trees cross arms, making high gothic arches, and a shade that noonday's fiercest rays could scarcely pierce, and there alone with her sad heart communed: "yes! i have kept it for the giver's sake, but he has quite forgot his love, his gift, and me. how bright these jewels seemed warmed by his love, but now how dull, how icy and how dead!" but soon the soft-eyed antelopes and fawns and fleet gazelles came near and licked her hands; and birds of every rich and varied plume gathered around and filled the air with song; and even timid pheasants brought their broods, for her sweet loving life had here restored the peace and harmony of paradise; and as they shared her bounty she was soothed by their mute confidence and perfect trust. but though time seems to lag, yet still it moves, resistless as the ocean's swelling tide, bearing its mighty freight of human lives with all their joys and sorrows, hopes and fears, onward, forever onward, to life's goal. at length the embassy is sent, and now, just as the last faint rays of rosy light fade from the topmost himalayan peaks, and tired nature sinks to quiet rest, a horseman dashes through the silent streets bearing the waiting prince the welcome word that one short journey of a single day divides him from the sweet yasodhara; and light-winged rumor spreads the joyful news, and ere the dawn had danced from mountain-top o'er hill and vale and plain to the sweet notes of nature's rich and varied orchestra, and dried the pearly tears that night had wept, the prince led forth his train to meet his bride, wondering that kantaka, always so free, so eager and so fleet, should seem to lag. and in that fragrant garden's cooling shade, where they had parted, now again they meet, and there we leave them reverently alone, for art can never paint nor words describe the peace and rest and rapture of that scene. meanwhile the city rings with busy stir. the streets are swept and sprinkled with perfumes, and when the evening shades had veiled the earth, and heaven's blue vault was set with myriad stars, the promised signal from the watchtower sounds, and myriad lamps shine from each house and tree, and merry children strew their way with flowers, and all come forth to greet siddartha's bride, and welcome her, their second maya, home. and at the palace gate the good old king receives her with such loving tenderness, as fondest mother, sick with hope deferred, waiting and watching for an absent child, at length receives him in her open arms. [ ]sinhahamu was an ancestor, said to be the grandfather, of our prince, whose bow, like that of ulysses, no one else could bend. see notes and to book second of arnold's "light of asia." [ ]any one who has read that remarkable work, "ben bur," and every one who has not should, will recognize my obligations to general wallace. [ ]one may be satisfied with the antiquity of the dance, practically as we have it, from lines - , book vi. of the odyssey: "joyful they see applauding princes gaze when stately in the dance they swim the harmonious maze." [ ]i am aware i place kapilavasta nearer the vale of cashmere than most, but as two such writers as beal and rhys davids differ yojanas, or miles in its location, and as no remains have yet been identified at all corresponding to the grandeur of the ancient city as described by all buddhist writers, i felt free to indulge my fancy. perhaps these ruins may yet be found by some chance traveler in some unexplored jungle. book iii. and now his cup with every blessing filled full to the brim, to overflowing full, what more has life to give or heart to wish? stately in form, with every princely grace, a very master of all manly arts, his gentle manners making all his friends, his young blood bounding on in healthful flow, his broad domains rich in all earth can yield, guarded by nature and his people's love, and now that deepest of all wants supplied, the want of one to share each inmost thought, whose sympathy can soothe each inmost smart, whose presence, care and loving touch can make the palace or the humblest cottage home, his life seemed rounded, perfect, full, complete. and they were happy as the days glide on, and when at night, locked in each other's arms, they sink to rest, heart beating close to heart, their thoughts all innocence and trust and love, it almost seemed as if remorseless time had backward rolled his tide, and brought again the golden age, with all its peace and joy, and our first parents, ere the tempter came, were taking sweet repose in paradise. but as one night they slept, a troubled dream disturbed the prince. he dreamed he saw one come, as young and fair as sweet yasodhara, but clad in widow's weeds, and in her arms a lifeless child, crying: "most mighty prince! o bring me back my husband and my child!" but he could only say "alas! poor soul!" and started out of sleep he cried "alas!" which waked the sweet yasodhara, who asked, "what ails my love?" "only a troubled dream," the prince replied, but still she felt him tremble, and kissed and stroked his troubled brow, and soothed him into quiet sleep again. and then once more he dreamed--a pleasing dream. he dreamed he heard strange music, soft and sweet; he only caught its burden: "peace, be still!" and then he thought he saw far off a light, and there a place where all was peace and rest, and waking sighed to find it all a dream. one day this happy couple, side by side, rode forth alone, yasodhara unveiled-- "for why," said she, "should those whose thoughts are pure like guilty things hide from their fellow-men?"-- rode through the crowded streets, their only guard the people's love, strongest and best of guards; for many arms would spring to their defense, while some grim tyrant, at whose stern command a million swords would from their scabbards leap, cringes in terror behind bolts and bars, starts at each sound, and fears some hidden mine may into atoms blow his stately towers, or that some hand unseen may strike him down, and thinks that poison lurks in every cup, while thousands are in loathsome dungeons thrust or pine in exile for a look or word. and as they pass along from street to street a sea of happy faces lines their way, their joyful greetings answered by the prince. no face once seen, no name once heard, forgot, while sweet yasodhara was wreathed in smiles, the kind expression of her gentle heart, when from a little cottage by the way, the people making room for him to pass, there came an aged man, so very old that time had ceased to register his years; his step was firm, his eye, though faded, mild, and childhood's sweet expression on his face. the prince stopped short before him, bending low, and gently asked: "what would my father have? speak freely--what i can, i freely give." "most noble prince, i need no charity, for my kind neighbors give me all unasked, and my poor cottage where my fathers dwelt, and where my children and their mother died, is kept as clean as when sweet gunga lived; and young and old cheer up my lonely hours, and ask me much of other times and men. for when your father's father was a child, i was a man, as young and strong as you, and my sweet gunga your companion's age. but o the mystery of life explain! why are we born to tread this little round, to live, to love, to suffer, sorrow, die? why do the young like field-flowers bloom to fade? why are the strong like the mown grass cut down? why am i left as if by death forgot, left here alone, a leafless, fruitless trunk? is death the end, or what comes after death? often when deepest sleep shuts out the world, the dead still seem to live, while life fades out; and when i sit alone and long for light the veil seems lifted, and i seem to see a world of life and light and peace and rest, no sickness, sin or sorrow, pain or death, no helpless infancy or hopeless age. but we poor sudras cannot understand-- yet from my earliest memory i've heard that from this hill one day should burst a light, not for the brahmans only, but for all. and when you were a child i saw a sage bow down before you, calling you that light. o noble, mighty prince! let your light shine, that men no longer grope in dark despair!" he spoke, and sank exhausted on the ground. they gently raised him, but his life was fled. the prince gave one a well-filled purse and said: "let his pile neither lack for sandal-wood or any emblem of a life well spent." and when fit time had passed they bore him thence and laid him on that couch where all sleep well, half hid in flowers by loving children brought, a smile still lingering on his still, cold lips, as if they just had tasted gunga's kiss, soon to be kissed by eager whirling flames. just then two stately brahmans proudly passed-- passed on the other side, gathering their robes to shun pollution from the common touch, and passing said: "the prince with sudras talks as friend to friend--but wisdom comes with years." silent and thoughtful then they homeward turned, the prince deep musing on the old man's words; "'the veil is lifted, and i seem to see a world of life and light and peace and rest.' o if that veil would only lift for me the mystery of life would be explained." as they passed on through unfrequented streets, seeking to shun the busy, thoughtless throng, those other words like duty's bugle-call still ringing in his ears: "let your light shine, that men no longer grope in dark despair"-- the old sad thoughts, long checked by passing joys, rolling and surging, swept his troubled soul-- as pent-up waters, having burst their dams, sweep down the valleys and o'erwhelm the plains. just then an aged, angry voice cried out: "o help! they've stolen my jewels and my gold!" and from a wretched hovel by the way an old man came, hated and shunned by all, whose life was spent in hoarding unused gold, grinding the poor, devouring widows' homes; ill fed, ill clad, from eagerness to save, his sunken eyes glittering with rage and greed. and when the prince enquired what troubled him: "trouble enough," he said, "my sons have fled because i would not waste in dainty fare and rich apparel all my life has saved, and taken all my jewels, all my gold. would that they both lay dead before my face! o precious jewels! o beloved gold!" the prince, helpless to soothe, hopeless to cure this rust and canker of the soul, passed on, his heart with all-embracing pity filled. "o deepening mystery of life!" he cried, "why do such souls in human bodies dwell-- fitter for ravening wolves or greedy swine! just at death's door cursing his flesh and blood for thievish greed inherited from him. is this old age, or swinish greed grown old? o how unlike that other life just fled! his youth's companions, wife and children, dead, yet filled with love for all, by all beloved, with his whole heart yearning for others' good, with his last breath bewailing others' woes." "my best beloved," said sweet yasodhara, her bright eyes filled with sympathetic tears, her whole soul yearning for his inward peace, "brood not too much on life's dark mystery-- behind the darkest clouds the sun still shines." "but," said the prince, "the many blindly grope in sorrow, fear and ignorance profound, while their proud teachers, with their heads erect, stalk boldly on, blind leaders of the blind. come care, come fasting, woe and pain for me, and even exile from my own sweet home, all would i welcome could i give them light." "but would you leave your home, leave me, leave all, and even leave our unborn pledge of love, the living blending of our inmost souls, that now within me stirs to bid you pause?" "only for love of you and him and all! o hard necessity! o bitter cup! but would you have me like a coward shun the path of duty, though beset with thorns-- thorns that must pierce your tender feet and mine?" piercing the question as the sharpest sword; their love, their joys, tempted to say him nay. but soon she conquered all and calmly said: "my love, my life, where duty plainly calls i bid you go, though my poor heart must bleed, and though my eyes weep bitter scalding tears." their hearts too full for words, too full for tears, gently he pressed her hand and they passed home; and in the presence of this dark unknown a deep and all-pervading tenderness guides every act and tempers every tone-- as in the chamber of the sick and loved the step is light, the voice is soft and low. but soon their days with varied duties filled, their nights with sweet repose, glide smoothly on, until this shadow seems to lift and fade-- as when the sun bursts through the passing storm, gilding the glittering raindrops as they fall, and paints the bow of hope on passing clouds. yet still the old sad thoughts sometimes return, the burden of a duty unperformed, the earnest yearning for a clearer light. the thought that hour by hour and day by day the helpless multitudes grope blindly on, clouded his joys and often banished sleep. one day in this sad mood he thought to see his people as they are in daily life, and not in holiday attire to meet their prince. in merchant's dress, his charioteer his clerk, the prince and channa passed unknown, and saw the crowded streets alive with busy hum, traders cross-legged, with their varied wares, the wordy war to cheapen or enhance, one rushing on to clear the streets for wains with huge stone wheels, by slow strong oxen drawn; palanquin-bearers droning out "hu, hu, ho, ho," while keeping step and praising him they bear; the housewives from the fountain water bring in balanced water-jars, their black-eyed babes athwart their hips, their busy tongues meanwhile engaged in gossip of the little things that make the daily round of life to them; the skillful weaver at his clumsy loom; the miller at his millstones grinding meal; the armorer, linking his shirts of mail; the money-changer at his heartless trade; the gaping, eager crowd gathered to watch snake-charmers, that can make their deadly charge dance harmless to the drone of beaded gourds; sword-players, keeping many knives in air; jugglers, and those that dance on ropes swung high: and all this varied work and busy idleness as in a panorama passing by. while they were passing through these varied scenes, the prince, whose ears were tuned to life's sad notes, whose eyes were quick to catch its deepest shades, found sorrow, pain and want, disease and death, were woven in its very warp and woof. a tiger, springing from a sheltering bush, had snatched a merchant's comrade from his side; a deadly cobra, hidden by the path, had stung to death a widow's only son; a breath of jungle-wind a youth's blood chilled, or filled a strong man's bones with piercing pain; a household widowed by a careless step; the quick cross-lightning from an angry cloud struck down a bridegroom bringing home his bride-- all this and more he heard, and much he saw: a young man, stricken in life's early prime, shuffled along, dragging one palsied limb, while one limp arm hung useless by his side; a dwarf sold little knickknacks by the way, his body scarcely in the human form, to which long arms and legs seemed loosely hung, his noble head thrust forward on his breast, whose pale, sad face as plainly told as words that life had neither health nor hope for him; an old man tottering from a hovel came, frail, haggard, palsied, leaning on a staff, whose eyes, dull, glazed and meaningless, proclaim the body lingers when the mind has fled; one seized with sudden hot distemper of the blood, writhing with anguish, by the wayside sunk. the purple plague-spot on his pallid cheek, cold drops of perspiration on his brow, with wildly rolling eyes and livid lips, gasping for breath and feebly asking help-- but ere the prince could aid, death gave relief. at length they passed the city's outer gate and down a stream, now spread in shining pools, now leaping in cascades, now dashing on, a line of foam along its rocky bed, bordered by giant trees with densest shade. here, day by day, the city bring their dead; here, day by day, they build the funeral-piles; here lamentations daily fill the air; here hissing flames each day taste human flesh, and friendly watchmen guard the smoldering pile till friends can cull the relics from the dust. and here, just finished, rose a noble pile by stately brahmans for a brahman built of fragrant woods, and drenched with fragrant oils, loading the air with every sweet perfume that india's forests or her fields can yield; above, a couch of sacred cusa-grass, on which no dreams disturb the sleeper's rest. and now the sound of music reaches them, far off at first, solemn and sad and slow, rising and swelling as it nearer comes, until a long procession comes in view. four brahmans first, bearing in bowls the fire no more to burn on one deserted hearth, then stately brahmans on their shoulders bore a noble brother of their sacred caste, in manhood's bloom and early prime cut down. then brahman youth, bearing a little child half hid in flowers, and as in seeming sleep. then other brahmans in a litter bore one young and fair, in early womanhood, her youthful beauty joined with matron grace, in bridal dress adorned with costly gems-- the very face the prince had dreaming seen, the very child she carried in her arms. then many more, uncovered, four by four, the aged first, then those in manhood's prime, and then the young with many acolytes chanting in unison their sacred hymns, accompanied by many instruments, both wind and string, in solemn symphony; and at respectful distance other castes, afraid to touch a brahman's sacred robes or even mingle with his grief their tears. and when they reached the fragrant funeral-pile, weeping they placed their dead on their last couch, the child within its father's nerveless arms; and when all funeral rites had been performed, the widow circled thrice the funeral-pile, distributing her gifts with lavish hand, bidding her friends a long and last farewell-- then stopped, and raised her tearless eyes and said: "farewell, a long farewell, to life and friends! farewell! o earth and air and sacred sun! nanda, my lord, udra, my child, i come!" then pale but calm, with fixed ecstatic gaze and steady steps she mounts the funeral-pile, crying, "they beckon me! i come! i come!" then sunk as if the silver cord were loosed as still as death upon her silent dead. instant the flames from the four corners leaped, mingling in one devouring, eager blaze. no groan, no cry, only the crackling flames, the wailing notes of many instruments, and solemn chant by many voices raised, "perfect is she who follows thus her lord." o dark and cruel creeds, o perfect love, fitter for heaven than this sad world of ours! more than enough the prince had seen and heard. bowed by the grievous burdens others bore, feeling for others' sorrows as his own, tears of divinest pity filled his eyes and deep and all-embracing love his heart. home he returned, no more to find its rest. but soon a light shines in that troubled house-- a son is born to sweet yasodhara. their eyes saw not, neither do ours, that sun whose light is wisdom and whose heat is love, sending through nature waves of living light, giving its life to everything that lives, which through the innocence of little ones as through wide-open windows sends his rays to light the darkest, warm the coldest heart. sweet infancy! life's solace and its rest, driving away the loneliness of age, wreathing in smiles the wrinkled brow of care, nectar to joyful, balm to troubled hearts, joyful once more is king suddhodana; a placid joy beams from that mother's face; joy lit the palace, flew from street to street, and from the city over hill and plain; joy filled the prince's agitated soul-- he felt a power, from whence he could not tell, drawing away, he knew not where it led. he knew the dreaded separation near, yet half its pain and bitterness was passed. he need not leave his loved ones comfortless-- his loving people still would have their prince, the king in young rahula have his son, and sweet yasodhara, his very life, would have that nearest, dearest comforter to soothe her cares and drive away her tears.[ ] but now strange dreams disturb the good old king-- dreams starting him in terror from his sleep, yet seeming prophecies of coming good. he dreamed he saw the flag his fathers loved in tatters torn and trailing in the dust, but in its place another glorious flag, whose silken folds seemed woven thick with gems that as it waved glittered with dazzling light. he dreamed he saw proud embassies from far bringing the crowns and scepters of the earth, bowing in reverence before the prince, humbly entreating him to be their king-- from whom he fled in haste as if in fear. then dreamed he saw his son in tattered robes begging from sudras for his daily bread. again, he dreamed he saw the ancient tower where he in worship had so often knelt, rising and shining clothed with living light, and on its top the prince, beaming with love, scattering with lavish hand the richest gems on eager crowds that caught them as they fell. but soon it vanished, and he saw a hill, rugged and bleak, cliff crowned and bald and bare, and there he saw the prince, kneeling alone, wasted with cruel fastings till his bones clave to his skin, and in his sunken eyes with fitful flicker gleamed the lamp of life until they closed, and on the ground he sank, as if in death or in a deadly swoon; and then the hill sank to a spreading plain, stretching beyond the keenest vision's ken, covered with multitudes as numberless as ocean's sands or autumn's forest leaves; and mounted on a giant elephant, white as the snows on himalaya's peaks, the prince rode through their midst in royal state, and as he moved along he heard a shout, rising and swelling, like the mighty voice of many waters breaking on the shore: "all hail! great chakravartin, king of kings! hail! king of righteousness! hail! prince of peace!" strange dreams! where is their birthplace--where their home? lighter than foam upon the crested wave, fleeter than shadows of the passing cloud, they are of such fantastic substance made that quick as thought they change their fickle forms-- now grander than the waking vision views, now stranger than the wildest fancy feigns, and now so grim and terrible they start the hardened conscience from its guilty sleep. in troops they come, trooping they fly away, waved into being by the magic wand of some deep purpose of the inmost soul, some hidden joy or sorrow, guilt or fear-- or better, as the wise of old believed, called into being by some heavenly guest to soothe, to warn, instruct or terrify. strange dreams by night and troubled thoughts by day disturb the prince and banish quiet sleep. he dreamed that darkness, visible and dense, shrouded the heavens and brooded o'er the earth, whose rayless, formless, vacant nothingness curdled his blood and made his eyeballs ache; when suddenly from out this empty void a cloud, shining with golden light, was borne by gentle winds, loaded with sweet perfumes, sweeter than spring-time on this earth can yield. the cloud passed just above him, and he saw myriads of cherub faces looking down, sweet as rahula, freed from earthly stain; such faces mortal brush could never paint-- enraptured raphael ne'er such faces saw. but still the outer darkness hovered near, and ever and anon a bony hand darts out to snatch some cherub face away. then dreamed he saw a broad and pleasant land, with cities, gardens, groves and fruitful fields, where bee-fed flowers half hide the ripening fruits. and spicy breezes stir the trembling leaves, and many birds make sweetest melody, but bordered by a valley black as night, that ever vomits from its sunless depths great whirling clouds of suffocating smoke, blacker than hide the burning aetna's head, blacker than over lake avernus hung; no bird could fly above its fatal fumes; eagles, on tireless pinions upward borne, in widening circles rising toward the sun, venturing too near its exhalations, fall, as sinks the plummet in the silent sea; and lions, springing on their antlered prey, drop still and lifeless on its deadly brink; only the jackal's dismal howl is heard to break its stillness and eternal sleep. he was borne forward to the very verge of this dark valley, by some power unseen. a wind that pierced his marrow parts the clouds, and far within, below he saw a sight that stood his hair on end, beaded his brow with icy drops, and made his blood run cold; he saw a lofty throne, blacker than jet, but shining with a strange and baleful light that made him shade his blinded, dazzled eyes, and seated on that throne a ghastly form that seemed a giant human skeleton, but yet in motion terrible and quick as lightning, killing ere the thunders roll; his fleshless skull had on a seeming crown, while from his sunken sockets glared his eyes like coals of fire or eyes of basilisk, and from his bony hand each instant flew unerring darts that flew to pierce and kill, piercing the infant in its mother's arms, the mother when she feels her first-born's breath, piercing the father in his happy home, piercing the lover tasting love's first kiss, piercing the vanquished when his banners fall, piercing the victor 'mid triumphant shouts, piercing the mighty monarch on his throne; while from a towering cypress growing near every disease to which frail flesh is heir like ravening vultures watch each arrow's flight, and quick as thought glide off on raven's wings to bring the wounded, writhing victim in-- as well-trained hunters mark their master's aim, then fly to bring the wounded quarry home. meanwhile a stifling stench rose from below-- as from a battle-field where nations met and fiery ranks of living valor fought, now food for vultures, moldering cold and low-- and bleaching bones were scattered everywhere. startled he wakes and rises from his couch. the lamps shine down with soft and mellow light. the fair yasodhara still lay in sleep, but not in quiet sleep. her bosom heaved as if a sigh were seeking to escape; her brows were knit as if in pain or fear, and tears were stealing from her close-shut lids. but sweet rahula slept, and sleeping smiled as if he too those cherub faces saw. in haste alone he noiselessly stole forth to wander in the park, and cool his brow and calm his burdened, agitated soul. the night had reached that hour preceding dawn when nature seems in solemn silence hushed, awed by the glories of the coming day. the moon hung low above the western plains; unnumbered stars with double brightness shine, and half-transparent mists the landscape veil, through which the mountains in dim grandeur rise. silent, alone he crossed the maidan wide where first he saw the sweet yasodhara, where joyful multitudes so often met, now still as that dark valley of his dream. he passed the lake, mirror of heaven's high vault, whose ruffled waters ripple on the shore, stirred by cool breezes from the snow-capped peaks; and heedless of his way passed on and up, through giant cedars and the lofty pines, over a leafy carpet, velvet soft, while solemn voices from their branches sound, strangely in unison with his sad soul; and on and up until he reached a spot above the trees, above the mist-wrapped world, where opening chasms yawned on every side. perforce he stopped; and, roused from revery, gazed on the dark and silent world below. the moon had sunk from sight, the stars grew dim, and densest darkness veiled the sleeping world, when suddenly bright beams of rosy light shot up the east; the highest mountain-top glittered as if both land and sea had joined their richest jewels and most costly gems to make its crown; from mountain-peak to peak the brightness spread, and darkness slunk away, until between two giant mountain-tops glittered a wedge of gold; the hills were tinged, and soon the sun flooded the world with light as when the darkness heard that first command: "let there be light!" and light from chaos shone. raptured he gazed upon the glorious scene. "and can it be," he said, "with floods of light filling the blue and boundless vault above, bathing in brightness mountain, hill and plain, sending its rays to ocean's hidden depths, with light for bird and beast and creeping thing, light for all eyes, oceans of light to spare, that man alone from outer darkness comes, gropes blindly on his brief and restless round, and then in starless darkness disappears? there must be light, fountains of living light, for which my thirsty spirit pining pants as pants the hunted hart for water-brooks-- another sun, lighting a better world, where weary souls may find a welcome rest. gladly i'd climb yon giddy mountain-heights, or gladly take the morning's wings and fly to earth's remotest bounds, if light were there, welcome to me the hermit's lonely cell, and welcome dangers, labors, fastings, pains-- all would be welcome could i bring the light to myriads now in hopeless darkness sunk. farewell to kingdom, comforts, home and friends! all will i leave to seek this glorious light." the die is cast, the victory is gained. though love of people, parent, wife and child, half selfish, half divine, may bid him pause, a higher love, unselfish, all divine, for them and every soul, bade him go forth to seek for light, and seek till light be found. home he returned, now strong to say farewell. meanwhile the sweet yasodhara still slept, and dreamed she saw siddartha's empty couch. she dreamed she saw him flying far away, and when she called to him he answered not, but only stopped his ears and faster flew until he seemed a speck, and then was gone. and then she heard a mighty voice cry out: "the time has come--his glory shall appear!" waked by that voice, she found his empty couch, siddartha gone, and with him every joy; but not all joy, for there rahula lay, with great wide-open eyes and cherub smile, watching the lights that flickered on the wall. caught in her arms she pressed him to her heart to still its tumult and to ease its pain. but now that step she knew so well is heard. siddartha comes, filled with unselfish love until his face beamed with celestial light that like a holy halo crowned his head. gently he spoke: "my dearest and my best, the time has come--the time when we must part. let not your heart be troubled--it is best." this said, a tender kiss spoke to her heart, in love's own language, of unchanging love. when sweet rahula stretched his little arms, and cooing asked his share of tenderness, siddartha from her bosom took their boy, and though sore troubled, both together smiled, and with him playing, that sweet jargon spoke, which, though no lexicon contains its words, seems like the speech of angels, poorly learned, for every sound and syllable and word was filled brimful of pure and perfect love. at length grown calm, they tenderly communed of all their past, of all their hopes and fears; and when the time of separation came, his holy resolution gave her strength to give the last embrace and say farewell. and forth he rode,[ ] mounted on kantaka, a prince, a loving father, husband, son, to exile driven by all-embracing love. what wonder, as the ancient writings say, that nature to her inmost depths was stirred, and as he passed the birds burst forth in song, fearless of hawk or kite that hovered near? what wonder that the beasts of field and wood, and all the jungle's savage denizens, gathered in groups and gamboled fearlessly, leopards with kids and wolves with skipping lambs? for he who rode alone, bowed down and sad, taught millions, crores[ ] of millions, yet unborn to treat with kindness every living thing. what wonder that the deepest hells were stirred? what wonder that the heavens were filled with joy? for he, bowed down with sorrow, going forth, shall come with joy and teach all men the way from earth's sad turmoil to nirvana's rest. [ ]in the "light of asia" the prince is made to leave his young wife before the birth of their son, saying: "whom, if i wait to bless, my heart will fail,"--a piece of cowardice hardly consistent with my conception of that brave and self-denying character. [ ]in the "light of asia," the prince, after leaving his young wife, is made to pass through a somewhat extensive harem _en deshabille_, which is described with voluptuous minuteness. although there are some things in later buddhistic literature that seem to justify it, i can but regard the introduction of an institution so entirely alien to every age, form and degree of aryan civilization and so inconsistent with the tender conjugal love which was the strongest tie to his beloved home, as a serious blot on that beautiful poem and as inconsistent with its whole theory, for no prophet ever came from a harem. [ ]a crore is ten millions. book iv. far from his kingdom, far from home and friends, the prince has gone, his flowing locks close shorn, his rings and soft apparel laid aside, all signs of rank and royalty cast off. clothed in a yellow robe, simple and coarse, through unknown streets from door to door he passed, holding an alms-bowl forth for willing gifts. but when, won by his stateliness and grace, they brought their choicest stores, he gently said: "not so, my friends, keep such for those who need-- the sick and old; give me but common food." and when sufficient for the day was given, he took a way leading without the walls, and through rich gardens, through the fruitful fields, under dark mangoes and the jujube trees, eastward toward sailagiri, hill of gems; and through an ancient grove, skirting its base, where, soothed by every soft and tranquil sound, full many saints were wearing out their days in meditation, earnest, deep, intent, seeking to solve the mystery of life, seeking, by leaving all its joys and cares, seeking, by doubling all its woes and pains, to gain an entrance to eternal rest; and winding up its rugged sides, to where a shoulder of the mountain, sloping west, o'erhangs a cave with wild figs canopied. this mountain cave was now his dwelling-place, a stone his pillow, and the earth his bed, his earthen alms-bowl holding all his stores except the crystal waters, murmuring near. a lonely path, rugged, and rough, and steep; a lonely cave, its stillness only stirred by eagle's scream, or raven's solemn croak, or by the distant city's softened sounds, save when a sudden tempest breaks above, and rolling thunders shake the trembling hills-- a path since worn by countless pilgrims' feet, coming from far to view this hallowed spot, and bow in worship on his hard, cold bed, and press his pillow with their loving lips. for here, for six long years, the world-renowned, the tender lover of all living things, fasted and watched and wrestled for the light, less for himself than for a weeping world. and here arrived, he ate his simple meal, and then in silent meditation sat the livelong day, heedless of noon's fierce heat that sent to covert birds and panting beasts, and from the parched and glowing plain sent up, as from a furnace, gusts of scorching air, through which the city's walls, the rocks and trees. all seemed to tremble, quiver, glow and shake, as if a palsy shook the trembling world; heedless of loosened rocks that crashed so near, and dashed and thundered to the depths below, and of the shepherds, who with wondering awe came near to gaze upon his noble form and gentle, loving but majestic face, and thought some god had deigned to visit men. and thus he sat, still as the rock his seat, seeking to pierce the void from whence man came, to look beyond the veil that shuts him in, to find a clue to life's dark labyrinth, seeking to know why man is cast adrift upon the bosom of a troubled sea, his boat so frail, his helm and compass lost, to sink at last in dull oblivion's depths; when nature seems so perfect and complete, grand as a whole, and perfect all its parts, which from the greatest to the least proclaims that wisdom, watchfulness, and power and love which built the mountains, spread the earth abroad, and fixed the bounds that ocean cannot pass; which taught the seasons their accustomed rounds, lest seed-time and the happy harvests fail; which guides the stars in their celestial course, and guides the pigeon's swift unerring flight o'er mountain, sea and plain and desert waste, straight as an arrow to her distant home; teaching the ant for winter to prepare; clothing the lily in its princely pride; watching the tiny sparrow when it falls; nothing too great for his almighty arm; nothing too small for his all-seeing eye; nothing too mean for his paternal care. and thus he mused, seeking to find a light to guide men on their dark and weary way, and through the valley and the shades of death, until the glories of the setting sun called him to vespers and his evening meal. then roused from revery, ablutions made, eight times he bowed, just as the setting sun, a fiery red, sunk slowly out of sight beyond the western plains, gilded and tinged, misty and vast, beneath a brilliant sky, shaded from brightest gold to softest rose. then, after supper, back and forth he paced upon the narrow rock before his cave, seeking to ease his numbed and stiffened limbs; while evening's sombre shadows slowly crept from plain to hill and highest mountain-top, and solemn silence settled on the world, save for the night-jar's cry and owl's complaint; while many lights from out the city gleam, and thickening stars spangle the azure vault, until the moon, with soft and silvery light, half veils and half reveals the sleeping world. and then he slept--for weary souls must sleep, as well as bodies worn with daily toil; and as he lay stretched on his hard, cold bed, his youthful blood again bounds freely on, repairing wastes the weary day had made. and then he dreamed. sometimes he dreamed of home, of young rahula, reaching out his arms, of sweet yasodhara with loving words cheering him on, as love alone can cheer. sometimes he dreamed he saw that living light for which his earnest soul so long had yearned-- but over hills and mountains far away. and then he seemed with labored steps to climb down giddy cliffs, far harder than ascent, while yawning chasms threatened to devour, and beetling cliffs precluded all retreat; but still the way seemed opening step by step, until he reached the valley's lowest depths, where twilight reigned, and grim and ghastly forms, with flaming swords, obstruct his onward way, but his all-conquering love still urged him on, when with wild shrieks they vanished in thin air; and then he climbed, clinging to jutting cliffs, and stunted trees that from each crevice grew, till weary, breathless, he regained the heights, to see that light nearer, but still so far. and thus he slept, and thus sometimes he dreamed, but rose before the dawn had tinged the east, before the jungle-cock had made his call, when thoughts are clearest, and the world is still, refreshed and strengthened for his daily search into the seeds of sorrow, germs of pain, after a light to scatter doubts and fears. but when the coming day silvered the east, and warmed that silver into softest gold, and faintest rose-tints tinged the passing clouds, he, as the vedas taught, each morning bathed in the clear stream that murmured near his cave, then bowed in reverence to the rising sun, as from behind the glittering mountain-peaks it burst in glory on the waking world. then bowl and staff in hand, he took his way along his mountain-path and through the grove, and through the gardens, through the fruitful fields, down to the city, for his daily alms; while children his expected coming watch, and running cry: "the gracious rishi comes." all gladly gave, and soon his bowl was filled, for he repaid their gifts with gracious thanks, and his unbounded love, clearer than words, spoke to their hearts as he passed gently on. even stolid plowmen after him would look, wondering that one so stately and so grand should even for them have kind and gracious words, sometimes while passing through the sacred grove, he paused beneath an aged banyan-tree, whose spreading branches drooping down took root to grow again in other giant trunks, an ever-widening, ever-deepening shade, where five, like him in manhood's early prime, each bound to life by all its tender ties, high born and rich, had left their happy homes, their only food chance-gathered day by day, their only roof this spreading banyan-tree; and there long time they earnestly communed, seeking to aid each other in the search for higher life and for a clearer light. and here, under a sacred peepul's shade, two brahmans, famed for sanctity, had dwelt for many years, all cares of life cast off, who by long fastings sought to make the veil of flesh translucent to the inner eye; eyes fixed intently on the nose's tip, to lose all consciousness of outward things; by breath suppressed to still the outer pulse, so that the soul might wake to conscious life, and on unfolded wings unchecked might rise. and in the purest auras freely soar, above cross-currents that engender clouds where thunders roll, and quick cross-lightnings play, to view the world of causes and of life, and bathe in light that knows no night, no change. with eager questionings he sought to learn, while they with gentle answers gladly taught all that their self-denying search had learned. and thus he passed his days and months and years, in constant, patient, earnest search for light, with longer fastings and more earnest search, while day by day his body frailer grew, until his soul, loosed from its earthly bonds, sometimes escaped its narrow prison-house, and like the lark to heaven's gate it soared, to view the glories of the coming dawn. but as he rose, the sad and sorrowing world, for which his soul with tender love had yearned, seemed deeper in the nether darkness sunk, beyond his reach, beyond his power to save, when sadly to his prison-house he turned, wishing no light that did not shine for all. six years had passed, six long and weary years, since first he left the world to seek for light. knowledge he found, knowledge that soared aloft to giddy heights, and sounded hidden depths, secrets of knowledge that the brahmans taught the favored few, but far beyond the reach of those who toil and weep and cry for help; a light that gilds the highest mountain-tops, but leaves the fields and valleys dark and cold; but not that living light for which he yearned, to light life's humble walks and common ways, and send its warmth to every heart and home, as spring-time sends a warm and genial glow to every hill and valley, grove and field, clothing in softest verdure common grass, as well as sandal-trees and lofty palms. one night, when hope seemed yielding to despair, sleepless he lay upon the earth--his bed-- when suddenly a white and dazzling light shone through the cave, and all was dark again. startled he rose, then prostrate in the dust, his inmost soul breathed forth an earnest prayer[ ] that he who made the light would make it shine clearer and clearer to that perfect day, when innocence, and peace, and righteousness might fill the earth, and ignorance and fear, and cruelty and crime, might fly away, as birds of night and savage prowling beasts fly from the glories of the rising sun. long time he lay, wrestling in earnest prayer, when from the eastern wall, one clothed in light, beaming with love, and halo-crowned, appeared, and gently said: "siddartha, rise! go forth! waste not your days in fasts, your nights in tears! give what you have; do what you find to do; with gentle admonitions check the strong; with loving counsels aid and guide the weak, and light will come, the day will surely dawn." this said, the light grew dim, the form was gone, but hope revived, his heart was strong again. joyful he rose, and when the rising sun had filled the earth's dark places full of light, with all his worldly wealth, his staff and bowl, obedient to that voice he left his cave; when from a shepherd's cottage near his way, whence he had often heard the busy hum of industry, and childhood's merry laugh, there came the angry, stern command of one clothed in a little brief authority, mingled with earnest pleadings, and the wail of women's voices, and above them all the plaintive treble of a little child. thither he turned, and when he reached the spot, the cause of all this sorrow was revealed: one from the king had seized their little all, their goats and sheep, and e'en the child's pet lamb. but when they saw him they had often watched with reverent awe, as if come down from heaven, prostrate they fell, and kissed his garment's hem, while he so insolent, now stood abashed, and, self accused, he thus excused himself: "the brahmans make this day a sacrifice, and they demand unblemished goats and lambs. i but obey the king's express command to bring them to the temple ere high noon." but buddha stooped and raised the little child, who nestled in his arms in perfect trust, and gently said: "rise up, my friends, weep not! the king must be obeyed--but kings have hearts. i go along to be your advocate. the king may spare what zealous priest would kill, thinking the gods above delight in blood." but when the officers would drive the flock with staves and slings and loud and angry cries, they only scattered them among the rocks, and buddha bade the shepherd call his own, as love can lead where force in vain would drive. he called; they knew his voice and followed him, dumb innocents, down to the slaughter led, while buddha kissed the child, and followed them, with those so late made insolent by power, now dumb as if led out to punishment. meanwhile the temple-gates wide open stood, and when the king, in royal purple robed, and decked with gems, attended by his court, to clash of cymbals, sound of shell and drum, through streets swept clean and sprinkled with perfumes, adorned with flags, and filled with shouting crowds, drew near the sacred shrine, a greater came, through unswept ways, where dwelt the toiling poor, huddled in wretched huts, breathing foul air, living in fetid filth and poverty-- no childhood's joys, youth prematurely old, manhood a painful struggle but to live, and age a weary shifting of the scene; while all the people drew aside to gaze upon his gentle but majestic face, beaming with tender, all-embracing love. and when the king and royal train dismount, 'mid prostrate people and the stately priests, on fragrant flowers that carpeted his way, and mount the lofty steps to reach the shrine, siddartha came, upon the other side, 'mid stalls for victims, sheds for sacred wood, and rude attendants on the pompous rites, who seized a goat, the patriarch of the flock, and bound him firm with sacred munja grass, and bore aloft, while buddha followed where a priest before the blazing altar stood with glittering knife, and others fed the fires, while clouds of incense from the altar rose, sweeter than araby the blest can yield, and white-robed brahmans chant their sacred hymns. and there before that ancient shrine they met, the king, the priests, the hermit from the hill, when one, an aged brahman, raised his hands, and praying, lifted up his voice and cried: "o hear! great indra, from thy lofty throne on meru's holy mountain, high in heaven. let every good the king has ever done with this sweet incense mingled rise to thee; and every secret, every open sin be laid upon this goat, to sink from sight, drunk by the earth with his hot spouting blood, or on this altar with his flesh be burned." and all the brahman choir responsive cried: "long live the king! now let the victim die!" but buddha said: "let him not strike, o king! for how can god, being good, delight in blood? and how can blood wash out the stains of sin, and change the fixed eternal law of life that good from good, evil from evil flows?" this said, he stooped and loosed the panting goat, none staying him, so great his presence was. and then with loving tenderness he taught how sin works out its own sure punishment; how like corroding rust and eating moth it wastes the very substance of the soul; like poisoned blood it surely, drop by drop, pollutes the very fountain of the life; like deadly drug it changes into stone the living fibres of a loving heart; like fell disease, it breeds within the veins the living agents of a living death; and as in gardens overgrown with weeds, nothing but patient labor, day by day, uprooting cherished evils one by one, watering its soil with penitential tears, can fit the soul to grow that precious seed, which taking root, spreads out a grateful shade where gentle thoughts like singing birds may lodge, where pure desires like fragrant flowers may bloom, and loving acts like ripened fruits may hang. then, chiding not, with earnest words he urged humanity to man, kindness to beasts, pure words, kind acts, in all our daily walks. as better than the blood of lambs and goats. better than incense or the chanted hymn, to cleanse the heart and please the powers above, and fill the world with harmony and peace, till pricked in heart, the priest let fall his knife; the brahmans listening, ceased to chant their hymns; the king drank in his words with eager ears; and from that day no altar dripped with blood, but flowers instead breathed forth their sweet perfumes. and when that troubled day drew near its close, joy filled once more that shepherd's humble home, from door to door his simple story flew, and when the king entered his palace gates, new thoughts were surging in his wakened soul. but though the beasts have lairs, the birds have nests, buddha had not whereon to lay his head, not even a mountain-cave to call his home; and forth he fared, heedless about his way-- for every way was now alike to him. heedless of food, his alms-bowl hung unused. while all the people stood aside with awe, and to their children pointed out the man who plead the shepherd's cause before the king. at length he passed the city's western gate, and crossed the little plain circling its walls. circled itself by five bold hills that rise, a rugged, rampart and an outer wall. two outer gates this mountain rampart had, the one a narrow valley opening west toward gaya, through the red barabar hills. through which the rapid phalgu swiftly glides, down from the vindhya mountains far away, then gently winds around this fruitful plain, its surface green with floating lotus leaves. and bright with lotus blossoms, blue and white, o'erhung with drooping trees and trailing vines, till through the eastern gate it hastens on, to lose itself in gunga's sacred stream. toward gaya now siddartha bent his steps, distant the journey of a single day as men marked distance in those ancient times, no longer heeded in this headlong age, when we count moments by the miles we pass; and one may see the sun sink out of sight. behind great banks of gray and wintry clouds, while feathery snowflakes fill the frosty air, and after quiet sleep may wake next day to see it bathe green fields with floods of light, and dry the sparkling dew from opening flowers, and hear the joyful burst of vernal song, and breathe the balmy air of opening spring. and as he went, weary and faint and sad, the valley opening showed a pleasant grove, where many trees mingled their grateful shade, and many blossoms blended sweet perfumes; and there, under a drooping vakul-tree, a bower of roses and sweet jasmine vines, within a couch, without a banquet spread, while near a fountain with its falling spray ruffled the surface of a shining pool, whose liquid cadence mingled with the songs of many birds concealed among the trees. and there three seeming sister graces were,[ ] fair as young venus rising from the sea, the one in seeming childlike innocence bathed in the pool, while her low liquid laugh rung sweet and clear; and one her vina tuned, and as she played, the other lightly danced, clapping her hands, tinkling her silver bells, whose gauzy silken garments seemed to show rather than hide her slender, graceful limbs. and she who played the vina sweetly sang; "come to our bower and take your rest-- life is a weary road at best. eat, for your board is richly spread; drink, for your wine is sparkling red; rest, for the weary day is past; sleep, for the shadows gather fast. tune not your vina-strings too high, strained they will break and the music die. come to our bower and take your rest-- life is a weary road at best." but buddha, full of pity, passing said: "alas, poor soul! flitting a little while like painted butterflies before the lamp that soon will burn your wings; like silly doves, calling the cruel kite to seize and kill; displaying lights to be the robber's guide; enticing men to wrong, who soon despise. ah! poor, perverted, cold and cruel world! delights of love become the lures of lust, the joys of heaven changed into fires of hell." [ ]i am aware there are many who think that buddha did not believe in prayer, which arnold puts into his own mouth in these words, which sound like the clanking of chains in a prison-vault: "pray not! the darkness will not brighten! ask nought from silence, for it cannot speak!" buddha did teach that mere prayers without any effort to overcome our evils is of no more use than for a merchant to pray the farther bank of a swollen stream to come to him without seeking any means to cross, which merely differs in words from the declaration of st. james that faith without works is dead; but if he ever taught that the earnest yearning of a soul for help, which is the essence of prayer, is no aid in the struggle for a higher life, then my whole reading has been at fault, and the whole buddhist worship has been a departure from the teachings of its founder. [ ]mara dispatched three pleasure-girls from the north quarter to come and tempt him. their names were tanha, rati and ranga. fa hian (beal), p. . book v. now mighty mara, spirit of the air, the prince of darkness, ruling worlds below, had watched for buddha all these weary years, seeking to lead his steady steps astray by many wiles his wicked wit devised, lest he at length should find the living light and rescue millions from his dark domains. now, showing him the kingdoms of the world. he offered him the chakravartin's crown; now, opening seas of knowledge, shoreless, vast, knowledge of ages past and yet to come, knowledge of nature and the hidden laws that guide her changes, guide the roiling spheres, sakwal on sakwal,[ ] boundless, infinite, yet ever moving on in harmony, he thought to puff his spirit up with pride till he should quite forget a suffering world, in sin and sorrow groping blindly on. but when he saw that lust of power moved not, and thirst for knowledge turned him not aside from earnest search after the living light, from tender love for every living thing, he sent the tempters doubt and dark despair. and as he watched for final victory he saw that light flash through the silent cave, and heard the buddha breathe that earnest prayer, and fled amazed, nor dared to look behind. for though to buddha all his way seemed dark, his wily enemy could see a power, a mighty power, that ever hovered near, a present help in every time of need, when sinking souls seek earnestly for aid. he fled, indeed, as flies the prowling wolf, alarmed at watch-dog's bark or shepherd's voice, while seeking entrance to the slumbering fold, but soon returns with soft and stealthy step, with keenest scent snuffing the passing breeze, with ears erect catching each slightest sound, with glaring eyes watching each moving thing, with hungry jaws, skulking about the fold till coming dawn drives him to seek his lair. so mara fled, and so he soon returned, and thus he watched the buddha's every step; saw him with gentleness quell haughty power; saw him with tenderness raise up the weak; heard him before the brahmans and the king denounce those bloody rites ordained by him; heard him declare the deadly work of sin, his own prime minister and eldest-born; heard him proclaim the mighty power of love to cleanse the life and make the flinty heart as soft as sinews of the new-born babe. and when he saw whither he bent his steps, he sent three wrinkled hags, deformed and foul, the willing agents of his wicked will-- life-wasting idleness, the thief of time; lascivious lust, whose very touch defiles, poisoning the blood, polluting all within; and greedy gluttony, most gross of all, whose ravening maw forever asks for more-- to that delightful garden near his way, to tempt the master, their true forms concealed-- for who so gross that such coarse hags could tempt?-- but clothed instead in youthful beauty's grace. and now he saw him pass unmoved by lust, nor yet with cold, self-righteous pride puffed up, but breathing pity from his inmost soul e'en for the ministers of vice themselves. defeated, not discouraged, still he thought to try one last device, for well he knew that buddha's steps approached the sacred tree where light would dawn and all his power would end. upon a seat beside the shaded path, a seeming aged brahman, mara sat, and when the prince approached, his tempter rose, saluting him with gentle stateliness, saluted in return with equal grace. "whither away, my son?" the tempter said, "if you to gaya now direct your steps, perhaps your youth may cheer my lonely age." "i go to seek for light," the prince replied, "but where it matters not, so light be found." but mara answered him: "your search is vain. why seek to know more than the vedas teach? why seek to learn more than the teachers know? but such is youth; the rosy tints of dawn tinge all his thoughts. 'excelsior!' he cries, and fain would scale the unsubstantial clouds to find a light that knows no night, no change; we brahmans chant our hymns in solemn wise, the vulgar listen with profoundest awe; but still our muffled heart-throbs beat the march onward, forever onward, to the grave, when one ahead cries, 'lo! i see a light!' and others clutch his garments, following on. till all in starless darkness disappear, there may be day beyond this starless night, there may be life beyond this dark profound-- but who has ever seen that changeless day? what steps have e'er retraced that silent road? fables there are, hallowed by hoary age, fables and ancient creeds, that men have made to give them power with ignorance and fear; fables of gods with human passions filled: fables of men who walked and talked with gods; fables of kalpas passed, when brahma slept and all created things were wrapped in flames, and then the floods descended, chaos reigned, the world a waste of waters, and the heavens a sunless void, until again he wakes, and sun and moon and stars resume their rounds, oceans receding show the mountain-tops, and then the hills and spreading plains-- strange fables all, that crafty men have feigned. why waste your time pursuing such vain dreams-- as some benighted travelers chase false lights to lose themselves in bogs and fens at last? but read instead in nature's open book how light from darkness grew by slow degrees; how crawling worms grew into light-winged birds, acquiring sweetest notes and gayest plumes; how lowly ferns grew into lofty palms; how men have made themselves from chattering apes;[ ] how, even from protoplasm to highest bard, selecting and rejecting, mind has grown, until at length all secrets are unlocked, and man himself now stands pre-eminent, maker and master of his own great self, to sneer at all his lisping childlike past and laugh at all his fathers had revered." the prince with gentle earnestness replied: "full well i know how blindly we grope on in doubt and fear and ignorance profound, the wisdom of the past a book now sealed. but why despise what ages have revered? as some rude plowman casts on rubbish-heaps the rusty casket that his share reveals, not knowing that within it are concealed most precious gems, to make him rich indeed, the hand that hid them from the robber, cold, the key that locked this rusty casket, lost. the past was wise, else whence that wondrous tongue[ ] that we call sacred, which the learned speak, now passing out of use as too refined for this rude age, too smooth for our rough tongues, too rich and delicate for our coarse thoughts. why should such men make fables so absurd unless within their rough outside is stored some precious truth from profanation hid? revere your own, revile no other faith, lest with the casket you reject the gems, or with rough hulls reject the living seed. doubtless in nature changes have been wrought that speak of ages in the distant past, whose contemplation fills the mind with awe. the smooth-worn pebbles on the highest hills speak of an ocean sweeping o'er their tops; the giant palms, now changed to solid rocks, speak of the wonders of a buried world. why seek to solve the riddle nature puts, of whence and why, with theories and dreams? the crawling worm proclaims its maker's power; the singing bird proclaims its maker's skill; the mind of man proclaims a greater mind, whose will makes world, whose thoughts are living acts. our every heart-throb speaks of present power, preserving, recreating, day by day. better confess how little we can know, better with feet unshod and humble awe approach this living power to ask for aid." and as he spoke the devas filled the air, unseen, unheard of men, and sweetly sung: "hail, prince of peace! hail, harbinger of day! the darkness vanishes, the light appears." but mara heard, and silent slunk away, the o'erwrought prince fell prostrate on the ground and lay entranced, while devas hovered near, watching each heart-throb, breathing that sweet calm its guardian angel gives the sleeping child. the night has passed, the day-star fades from sight, and morning's softest tint of rose and gold tinges the east and tips the mountain-tops. the silent village stirs with waking life, the bleat of goats and low of distant herds, the song of birds and crow of jungle-cocks breathe softest music through the dewy air. and now two girls,[ ] just grown to womanhood, the lovely daughters of the village lord, trapusha one, and one balika called, up with the dawn, trip lightly o'er the grass, bringing rich curds and rice picked grain by grain, a willing offering to their guardian god-- who dwelt, as all the simple folk believed, beneath an aged bodhi-tree that stood beside the path and near where buddha lay-- to ask such husbands as their fancies paint, gentle and strong, and noble, true and brave; and having left their gifts and made their vows, with timid steps the maidens stole away. but while the outer world is filled with life. that inner world from whence this life proceeds, concealed from sight by matter's blinding folds, whose coarser currents fill with wondrous power the nervous fluid of the universe which darts through nature's frame, from star to star, from cloud to cloud, filling the world with awe; now harnessed to our use, a patient drudge, heedless of time or space, bears human thought from land to land and through the ocean's depths; and bears the softest tones of human speech faster than light, farther than ocean sounds; and whirls the clattering car through crowded streets, and floods with light the haunts of prowling thieves-- that inner world, whose very life is love, pure love, and perfect, infinite, intense, that world is now astir. a rift appears in those dark clouds that rise from sinful souls and hide from us its clear celestial light, and clouds of messengers from that bright world, whom they called devas and we angels call, rush to that rift to rescue and to save. the wind from their bright wings fanned buddha's soul, the love from their sweet spirits warmed his heart. he starts from sleep, but rising, scarcely knows if he had seen a vision while awake, or, sunk in sleep, had dreamed a heavenly dream. from that pure presence all his tempters fled. the calm of conflict ended filled his soul, and led by unseen hands he forward passed to where the sacred fig-tree long had grown, beneath whose shade the village altar stood, where simple folk would place their willing gifts, and ask the aid their simple wants required, believing all the life above, around, the life within themselves, must surely come from living powers that ever hovered near. here lay the food sagata's daughters brought, the choicest products of his herds and fields, this grateful food met nature's every need, diffused a healthful glow through all his frame, and all the body's eager yearnings stilled. seven days he sat, and ate no more nor drank, yet hungered not, nor burned with parching thirst, for heavenly manna fed his hungry soul-- its wants were satisfied, the body's ceased. seven days he sat, in sweet internal peace waiting for light, and sure that light would come, when seeming scales fell from his inner sight, his spirit's eyes were opened and he saw not far away, but near, within, above, as dwells the soul within this mortal frame, a world within this workday world of ours, the living soul of all material things. eastward he saw a never-setting sun, whose light is truth, the light of all the worlds, whose heat is tender, all-embracing love, the inmost life of everything that lives, the mighty prototype and primal cause of all the suns that light this universe, from ours, full-orbed, that tints the glowing east and paints the west a thousand varied shades, to that far distant little twinkling star that seems no larger than the glow-worm's lamp, itself a sun to light such worlds as ours; and round about him clouds of living light, bright clouds of cherubim and seraphim, who sing his praise and execute his will-- not idly singing, as the foolish feign, but voicing forth their joy they work and sing; doing his will, their works sound forth his praise. on every side were fields of living green, with gardens, groves and gently rising hills, where crystal streams of living waters flow, and dim with distance meru's lofty heights. no desert sands, no mountains crowned with ice, for here the scorching simoom never blows, nor wintry winds, that pierce and freeze and kill, but gentle breezes breathing sweet perfumes; no weeds, no thorns, no bitter poisonous fruits, no noxious reptiles and no prowling beasts; for in this world of innocence and love no evil thoughts give birth to evil things, but many birds of every varied plume delight the ear with sweetest melody; and many flowers of every varied tint fill all the air with odors rich and sweet; and many fruits, suited to every taste, hang ripe and ready that who will may eat-- a world of life, with all its lights and shades, the bright original of our sad world without its sin and storms, its thorns and tears. no lethe's sluggish waters lave its shores, nor solemn shades, of poet's fancy bred, sit idly here to boast of battles past, nor wailing ghosts wring here their shadowy hands for lack of honor to their cast-off dust; but living men, in human bodies clothed-- not bodies made of matter, dull and coarse, dust from the dust and soon to dust returned, but living bodies, clothing living souls, bodies responsive to the spirit's will, clothing in acts the spirit's inmost thoughts-- dwell here in many mansions, large and fair, stretching beyond the keenest vision's hen, with room for each and more than room for all, forever filling and yet never full. not clogged by matter, fast as fleetest birds, wishing to go, they go; to come, they come. no helpless infancy or palsied age, but all in early manhood's youthful bloom, the old grown young, the child to man's estate. gentle they seemed as they passed to and fro, gentle and strong, with every manly grace; busy as bees in summer's sunny hours, in works of usefulness and acts of love; no pinching poverty or grasping greed, gladly receiving, they more gladly give, sharing in peace the bounties free to all. as lost in wonder and delight he gazed, he saw approaching from a pleasant grove two noble youths, yet full of gentleness, attending one from sole to crown a queen, with every charm of fresh and blooming youth and every grace of early womanhood, her face the mirror of her gentle soul, her flowing robes finer than softest silk, that as she moved seemed woven of the light; not borne by clumsy wings, or labored steps, she glided on as if her will had wings that bore her willing body where she wished. as she approached, close by her side he saw, as through a veil or thin transparent mist, the form and features of the aged king, older and frailer by six troubled years than when they parted, yet his very face, whom she was watching with the tenderest care. and nearer seen each seeming youth was two, as when at first in eden's happy shade our primal parents ere the tempter came were twain, and yet but one, so on they come, hand joined in hand, heart beating close to heart, one will their guide and sharing every thought, beaming with tender, all-embracing love, whom god had joined and death had failed to part. what need of words to introduce his guests? love knows her own, the mother greets her son. her parents and the king's, who long had watched their common offspring with a constant care, inspiring hope and breathing inward peace when secret foes assailed on every side, now saw him burst the clouds that veiled their view and stand triumphant full before their eyes. o happy meeting! joy profound, complete! soul greeting soul, heart speaking straight to heart, while countless happy faces hovered near and song's of joy sound through nirvana's heights. at length, the transports of first meeting past, more of this new-found world he wished to see, more of its peace and joy he wished to know. led by his loving guides, enwrapt he saw such scenes of beauty passing human speech, such scenes of peace and joy past human thought, that he who sings must tune a heavenly lyre and seraphs touch his lips with living fire. my unanointed lips will not presume to try such lofty themes, glad if i gain a distant prospect of the promised land, and catch some glimpses through the gates ajar. long time he wandered through these blissful scenes, time measured by succession of delights, till wearied by excess of very joy both soul and body sunk in tranquil sleep. he slept while hosts of devas sweetly sung: "hail, great physician! savior, lover, friend! joy of the worlds, guide to nirvana, hail!" from whose bright presence mara's myriads fled. but mara's self, subtlest of all, fled not, but putting on a seeming yogi's form, wasted, as if by fasts, to skin and bone, on one foot standing, rooted to the ground, the other raised against his fleshless thigh, hands stretched aloft till joints had lost their use, and clinched so close, as if in firm resolve, the nails had grown quite through the festering palms,[ ] his tattered robes, as if worn out by age, hanging like moss from trees decayed and dead, while birds were nesting in his tangled hair. and thus disguised the subtle mara stood, and when the master roused him from his sleep his tempter cried in seeming ecstasy: "o! happy wakening! joy succeeding grief! peace after trouble! rest that knows no end! life after death! nirvana found at last! here let us wait till wasted by decay the body's worn-out fetters drop away." "much suffering-brother," buddha answered him, "the weary traveler, wandering through the night in doubt and darkness, gladly sees the dawn. the storm-tossed sailor on the troubled sea, wearied and drenched, with joy re-enters port. but other nights succeed that happy dawn, and other seas may toss that sailor's bark. but he who sees nirvana's sacred sun, and in nirvana's haven furls his sails, no more shall wander through the starless night, no more shall battle with the winds and waves. o joy of joys! our eyes have seen that sun! our sails have almost reached that sheltering port, but shall we, joyful at our own escape, leave our poor brothers battling with the storm, sails rent, barks leaking, helm and compass lost, no light to guide, no hope to cheer them on?" "each for himself must seek, as we have sought," the tempter said, "and each must climb alone the rugged path our weary feet have trod. no royal road leads to nirvana's rest; no royal captain guides his army there. why leave the heights with so much labor gained? why plunge in darkness we have just escaped? men will not heed the message we may bring. the great will scorn, the rabble will deride,[ ] and cry 'he hath a devil and is mad.'" "true," answered buddha, "each must seek to find; each for himself must leave the downward road; each for himself must choose the narrow path that leads to purity and peace and life. but helping hands will aid those struggling up; a warning voice may check those hasting down. men are like lilies in yon shining pool: some sunk in evil grovel in the dust, loving like swine to wallow in the mire-- like those that grow within its silent depths, scarce raised above its black and oozy bed; while some love good, and seek the purest light, breathing sweet fragrance from their gentle lives-- like those that rise above its glassy face, sparkling with dewdrops, royally arrayed, drinking the brightness of the morning sun, distilling odors through the balmy air; but countless multitudes grope blindly on, shut out from light and crushed by cruel castes, willing to learn, whom none will deign to teach, willing to rise, whom none will deign to guide, who from the cradle to the silent grave, helpless and hopeless, only toil and weep-- like those that on the stagnant waters float, smothered with leaves, covered with ropy slime, that from the rosy dawn to dewy eve scarce catch one glimmer of the glorious sun. the good scarce need, the bad will scorn, my aid; but these poor souls will gladly welcome help. welcome to me the scorn of rich and great, welcome the brahman's proud and cold disdain, welcome revilings from the rabble rout, if i can lead some groping souls to light-- if i can give some weary spirits rest. farewell, my brother, you have earned release-- rest here in peace. i go to aid the poor." and as he spoke a flash of lurid light shot through the air, and buddha stood alone-- alone! to teach the warring nations peace! alone! to lead a groping world to light! alone! to give the heavy-laden rest! [ ]a sakwal was a sun with its system of worlds, which the ancient hindoos believed extended one beyond another through infinite space. it indicates great advance in astronomical knowledge when such a complex idea, now universally received as true, as that the fixed stars are suns with systems of worlds like ours, could be expressed in a single word. [ ]it may seem like an anachronism to put the very words of the modern agnostic into the mouth of buddha's tempter, but these men are merely threshing over old straw. the sneer of epicurus curled the lip of voltaire, and now merely breaks out into a broad laugh on the good-natured face of ingersoll. [ ]the sanscrit, the most perfect of all languages, and the mother of greek and of all the languages of the aryan races, now spread over the world, had gone out of use in buddha's time, and the pali, one of its earliest offspring, was used by the great teacher and his people. [ ]arnold follows the tradition, that there was but one, whom he makes a young wife, without any authority so far as i can learn. i prefer to follow the chinese pilgrim, fa hian, who was on the ground with every means of knowing, who makes them two young girls, and named as above. [ ]bishop heber says he saw a recluse whose hands had been clinched so close and so long that the nails had actually grown through the hands as here described. [ ]the last temptation of buddha was to keep his light to himself under the fear that men would reject his message. book vi. seven days had passed since first he saw the light, seven days of deep, ecstatic peace and joy, of open vision of that blissful world, of sweet communion with those dwelling there. but having tasted, seen and felt the joys of that bright world where love is all in all, filling each heart, inspiring every thought, guiding each will and prompting every act, he yearned to see the other, darker side of that bright picture, where the wars and hates, the lust, the greed, the cruelty and crime that fill the world with pain and want and woe have found their dwelling-place and final goal. quicker than eagles soaring toward the sun till but a speck against the azure vault swoop down upon their unsuspecting prey, quicker than watch-fires on the mountain-top send warnings to the dwellers in the plain, led by his guides he reached nirvana's verge, whence he beheld a broad and pleasant plain, spread with a carpet of the richest green and decked with flowers of every varied tint, whose blended odors fill the balmy air, where trees, pleasant to sight and good for food, in rich abundance and spontaneous grow. a living stream, as purest crystal clear, with gentle murmurs wound along the plain, its surface bright with fairer lotus-flowers than mortal eye on earth had ever seen, while on its banks were cool, umbrageous groves whose drooping branches spicy breezes stir, a singing bird in every waving bough, whose joyful notes the soul of music shed. a mighty multitude, beyond the power of men to number, moved about the plain; some, seeming strangers, wander through the groves and pluck the flowers or eat the luscious fruits; some, seeming visitors from better worlds, here wait and watch as for expected guests; while angel devas, clothed in innocence, whose faces beam with wisdom, glow with love, with loving welcomes greet each coming guest, with loving counsels aid, instruct and guide. and as he looked, the countless, restless throng seemed ever changing, ever moving on, so that this plain, comparing great to small, seemed like a station near some royal town, greater than london or old babylon, where all the roads from some vast empire meet, and many caravans or sweeping trains bring and remove the ever-changing throng. this plain a valley bordered, deep and still, the very valley of his fearful dream seen from the other side, whose rising mists were all aglow with ever-changing light, like passing clouds above the setting sun, through which as through a glass he darkly saw unnumbered funeral-trains, in sable clad, to solemn music and with measured tread bearing their dead to countless funeral-piles, as thick as heaps that through the livelong day with patient toil the sturdy woodmen rear, while clearing forests for the golden grain, and set aflame when evening's shades descend, filling the glowing woods with floods of light and ghostly shadows: so these funeral-piles send up their curling smoke and crackling flames. there eager flames devour an infant's flesh; here loving arms that risen infant clasp; there loud laments bewail a loved one lost; here joyful welcomes greet that loved one found. and there he saw a pompous funeral-train, bearing a body clothed in robes of state, to blare of trumpet, sound of shell and drum, while many mourners bow in silent grief, and widows, orphans raise a loud lament as for a father, a protector lost; and as the flames lick up the fragrant oils, and whirl and hiss around that wasting form, an eager watcher from a better world welcomes her husband to her open arms, the cumbrous load of pomp and power cast off, while waiting devas and the happy throng his power protected and his bounty blessed with joy conduct his unaccustomed steps onward and upward, to those blissful seats where all his stores of duties well performed, of power well used and wealth in kindness given, were garnered up beyond the reach of thieves, where moths ne'er eat and rust can ne'er corrupt. another train draws near a funeral-pile, of aloes, sandal-wood and cassia built, and drenched with every incense-breathing oil, and draped with silks and rich with rarest flowers, where grim officials clothed in robes of state placed one in royal purple, decked with gems, whose word had been a trembling nation's law, whose angry nod was death to high or low. no mourners gather round this costly pile; the people shrink in terror from the sight. but sullen soldiers there keep watch and ward while eager flames consume those nerveless hands so often raised to threaten or command, suck out those eyes that filled the court with fear, and only left of all this royal pomp a little dust the winds may blow away. but here that selfsame monarch comes in view, for royal purple clothed in filthy rags, and lusterless that crown of priceless gems; those eyes, whose bend so lately awed the world, blinking and bleared and blinded by the light; those hands, that late a royal scepter bore, shaking with fear and dripping all with blood. and as he looked that some should give him place and lead him to a seat for monarchs fit, he only saw a group of innocents his hands had slain, now clothed in spotless white, from whom he fled as if by furies chased, fled from those groves and gardens of delight, fled on and down a broad and beaten road by many trod, and toward a desert waste with distance dim, and gloomy, grim and vast, where piercing thorns and leafless briars grow, and dead sea-apples, ashes to the taste, where loathsome reptiles crawl and hiss and sting, and birds of night and bat-winged dragons fly, where beetling cliffs seem threatening instant fall, and opening chasms seem yawning to devour, and sulphurous seas were swept with lurid flames that seethe and boil from hidden fires below. again he saw, beyond that silent vale, one frail and old, without a rich man's gate laid down to die beneath a peepul-tree, and parched with thirst and pierced with sudden pain, a root his pillow and the earth his bed; alone he met the king of terrors there; whose wasting body, cumbering now the ground, chandalas cast upon the passing stream to float and fester in the fiery sun, till whirled by eddies, caught by roots, it lay a prey for vultures and for fishes food. that selfsame day a dart of deadly pain shot through that rich man's hard, unfeeling heart, that laid him low, beyond the power to save, e'en while his servants cast without his gates that poor old man, who came to beg him spare his roof-tree, where his fathers all had died, his hearth, the shrine of all his inmost joys, his little home, to every heart so dear; and in due season tongues of hissing flames that rich man's robes like snowflakes whirled in air, and curled his crackling skin, consumed his flesh, and sucked the marrow from his whitened bones. but here these two their places seem to change. that rich man's houses, lands, and flocks and herds, his servants, rich apparel, stores of gold, and all he loved and lived for left behind, the friends that nature gave him turned to foes, dependents whom his greed had wronged and crushed shrinking away as from a deadly foe; no generous wish, no gentle, tender, thought to hide his nakedness, his shriveled soul stood stark and bare, the gaze of passers-by; nothing within to draw him on and up, he slinks away, and wanders on and down, till in the desert, groveling in the dust, he digs and burrows, seeking treasures there-- while that poor man, as we count poverty, is rich in all that makes the spirit's wealth, his heart so pure that thoughts of guile and evil purpose find no lodgment there; his life so innocent that bitter words and evil-speaking ne'er escape his lips; the little that he had he freely shared, and wished it more that more he might have given; now rich in soul--for here a crust of bread in kindness shared, a cup of water given, is worth far more than all potosi's mines, and araby's perfumes and india's silks, and all the cattle on a thousand hills-- and clothed as with a robe of innocence the devas welcome him, his troubles passed, the conflict ended and the triumph gained. and there two brahmans press their funeral-pile, and sink to dust amid the whirling flames. each from his lisping infancy had heard that brahmans were a high and holy caste, too high and holy for the common touch, and each had learned the vedas' sacred lore. but here they parted. one was cold and proud, drawing away from all the humbler castes as made to toil, and only fit to serve. the other found within those sacred books that all were brothers, made of common clay, and filled with life from one eternal source, while brahmans only elder brothers were, with greater light to be his brother's guide, with greater strength to give his brother aid; that he alone a real brahman was who had a brahman's spirit, not his blood. with patient toil from youth to hoary age he taught the ignorant and helped the weak. and now they come where all external pomp and rank and caste and creed are nothing worth. but when that proud and haughty brahman saw poor sudras and chandalas clothed in white, he swept away with proud and haughty scorn, swept on and down where heartless selfishness alone can find congenial company. the other, full of joy, his brothers met, and in sweet harmony they journeyed on where higher joys await the pure in heart. and there he saw all ranks and grades and castes, chandala, sudra, warrior, brahman, prince, the wise and ignorant, the strong and weak, in all the stages of our mortal round from lisping; infancy to palsied age, by all the ways to human frailty known, enter that vale of shadows, deep and still, leaving behind their pomp and power and wealth, leaving their rags and wretchedness and want, and cast-off bodies, dust to dust returned, by flames consumed or moldering to decay, while here the real character appeared, all shows, hypocrisies and shams cast off, so that a life of gentleness and love shines through the face and molds the outer form to living beauty, blooming not to fade, while every act of cruelty and crime seems like a gangrened ever-widening wound, wasting the very substance of the soul, marring its beauty, eating out its strength. and here arrived, the good, in little groups together drawn by inward sympathy, and led by devas, take the upward way to those sweet fields his opened eyes had seen, those ever-widening mansions of delight; while those poor souls--o sad and fearful sight!-- the very well-springs of the life corrupt, shrink from the light and shun the pure and good, fly from the devas, who with perfect love would gladly soothe their anguish, ease their pain, fly on and down that broad and beaten road, till in the distance in the darkness lost. lost! lost! and must it be forever lost? the gentle buddha's all-embracing love shrunk from the thought, but rather sought relief in that most ancient faith by sages taught, that these poor souls at length may find escape, the grasping in the gross and greedy swine, the cunning in the sly and prowling fox, the cruel in some ravening beast of prey; while those less hardened, less depraved, may gain rebirth in men, degraded, groveling, base.[ ] but here in sadness let us drop the veil, hoping that he whose ways are not like ours, whose love embraces all his handiwork, who in beginnings sees the final end, may find some way to save these sinful souls consistent with his fixed eternal law that good from good, evil from evil flows. here buddha saw the mystery of life at last unfolded to its hidden depths. he saw that selfishness was sorrow's root, and ignorance its dense and deadly shade; he saw that selfishness bred lust and hate, deformed the features, and defiled the soul and closed its windows to those waves of love that flow perennial from nirvana's sun. he saw that groveling lusts and base desires like noxious weeds unchecked luxurious grow, making a tangled jungle of the soul, where no good seed can find a place to root, where noble purposes and pure desires and gentle thoughts wither and fade and die like flowers beneath the deadly upas-tree. he saw that selfishness bred grasping greed, and made the miser, made the prowling thief, and bred hypocrisy, pretense, deceit, and made the bigot, made the faithless priest, bred anger, cruelty, and thirst for blood, and made the tyrant, stained the murderer's knife, and filled the world with war and want and woe, and filled the dismal regions of the lost with fiery flames of passions never quenched, with sounds of discord, sounds of clanking chains, with cries of anguish, howls of bitter hate, yet saw that man was free--not bound and chained[ ] helpless and hopeless to a whirling wheel, rolled on resistless by some cruel power, regardless of their cries and prayers and tears-- free to resist those gross and groveling lusts, free to obey nirvana's law of love, the law of order--primal, highest law-- which guides the great artificer himself, who weaves the garments of the joyful spring, who paints the glories of the passing clouds, who tunes the music of the rolling spheres, guided by love in all his mighty works, filling with love the humblest willing heart. he saw that love softens and sweetens life, and stills the passions, soothes the troubled breast, fills homes with joy and gives the nations peace, a sovereign balm for all the spirit's wounds, the living fountain of nirvana's bliss; for here before his eyes were countless souls, born to the sorrows of a sinful world, with burdens bowed, by cares and griefs oppressed, who felt for others' sorrows as their own, who lent a helping hand to those in need, returning good for evil, love for hate, whose garments now were white as spotless wool, whose faces beamed with gentleness and love, as onward, upward, devas guide their steps, nirvana's happy mansions full in view. he saw the noble eightfold path that mounts from life's low levels to nirvana's heights. not by steep grades the strong alone can climb, but by such steps as feeblest limbs may take. he saw that day by day and step by step, by lusts resisted and by evil shunned, by acts of love and daily duties done, soothing some heartache, helping those in need, smoothing life's journey for a brother's feet, guarding the lips from harsh and bitter words, guarding the heart from gross and selfish thoughts, guarding the hands from every evil act, brahman or sudra, high or low, may rise till heaven's bright mansions open to the view, and heaven's warm sunshine brightens all the way; while neither hecatombs of victims slain, nor clouds of incense wafted to the skies, nor chanted hymns, nor prayers to all the gods, can raise a soul that clings to groveling lusts. he saw the cause of sorrow, and its cure. he saw that waves of love surround the soul as waves of sunlight fill the outer world, while selfishness, the subtle alchemist concealed within, changes that love to hate, forges the links of karma's fatal chain, of passions, envies, lusts to bind the soul, and weaves his webs of falsehood and deceit to close its windows to the living light, changing its mansion to its prison-house, where it must lay self-chained and self-condemned; while dharma, truth, the law, the living word, brushes away those deftly woven webs, opens its windows to the living light, reveals the architect of all its ills, scatters the timbers of its prison-house,[ ] and snaps in twain those bitter, galling chains so that the soul once more may stand erect, victor of self, no more to be enslaved, and live in charity and gentle peace, bearing all meekly, loving those who hate; and when at last the fated stream is reached, with lightened boat to reach the other shore. and here he found the light he long had sought, gilding at once nirvana's blissful heights and lighting life's sequestered, lowly vales-- a light whose inner life is perfect love, a love whose outer form is living light, nirvana's sun, the light of all the worlds,[ ] heart of the universe, whose mighty pulse gives heaven, the worlds and even hell their life, maker and father of all living things matreya's[ ] self, the lover, saviour, guide, the last, the greatest buddha, who must rule as lord of all before the kalpa's end. the way of life--the noble eightfold path, the way of truth, the dharma-pada--found, with joy he bade his loving guides farewell, with joy he turned from all those blissful scenes. and when the rosy dawn next tinged the east, and morning's burst of song had waked the day, with staff and bowl he left the sacred tree-- where pilgrims, passing pathless mountain-heights, and desert sands, and ocean's stormy waves, from every nation, speaking every tongue, should come in after-times to breathe their vows-- beginning on that day his pilgrimage of five and forty years from place to place, breaking the cruel chains of caste and creed, teaching the law of love, the way of life. [ ]the later buddhists make much of the doctrine of metempsychosis, but in the undoubted sayings and sutras or sermons of buddha i find no mention of it except in this way as the last hope of those who persist through life in evil, while the good after death reach the other shore, or nirvana, where there is no more birth or death. [ ]this great and fundamental truth, lying as the basis of human action and responsibility, was recognized by homer, who makes jupiter say: "perverse mankind, whose wills created free, charge all their woes to absolute decree." odyssey, book i, lines and [ ]after examining the attempted explanations of that remarkable passage, the original of which is given at the end of the sixth book of arnold's "light of asia," i am satisfied this is its true interpretation. it is not the death of the body, for he lived forty-five years afterwards, much less the annihilation of the soul, as some have imagined, but the conquest of the passions and gross and selfish desires which make human life a prison, the very object and end of the highest christian teaching's and aspirations. [ ] "know then that heaven and earth's compacted frame, and flowing waters, and the starry flame, and both the radiant lights, one common soul inspires and feeds and animates the whole." dryden's virgil, book vi, line . [ ]buddha predicted that matreya (love incarnate) would be his successor (see beal's fa hian, page , note , and page ; also hardy's manual, page , and oldenburgh's buddhism, page ), who was to come at the end of five hundred years at the end of his dharma (see buddhism and christianity, lillie, page ). it is a remarkable fact that this successor is the most common object of worship among buddhists, so that the most advanced buddhists and the most earnest christians have the same object of worship under different names. book vii. alone on his great mission going forth, down phalgu's valley he retraced his steps, down past the seat where subtle mara sat, and past the fountain where the siren sang, and past the city, through the fruitful fields and gardens he had traversed day by day for six long years, led by a strong desire to show his brahman teachers his new light. but ah! the change a little time had wrought! a new-made stupa held their gathered dust, while they had gone where all see eye to eye, the darkness vanished and the river crossed. then turning sadly from this hallowed spot-- hallowed by strivings for a higher life more than by dust this little mound contained-- he sought beneath the spreading banyan-tree his five companions, whom he lately left sad at his own departure from the way the sacred vedas and the fathers taught. they too had gone, to varanassi[ ] gone, high seat and centre of all sacred lore. the day was well-nigh spent; his cave was near, where he had spent so many weary years, and as he thither turned and upward climbed, the shepherd's little child who watched the flock his love had rescued from the bloody knife, upon a rock that rose above his path saw him pass by, and ran with eagerness to bear the news. joy filled that humble home. they owed him all. the best they had they brought, and offered it with loving gratitude. the master ate, and as he ate he taught these simple souls the great, the living truth that love is more than costly sacrifice; that daily duties done are highest praise; that when life's duties end its sorrows end, and higher joys await the pure in heart. their eager souls drank in his living words as those who thirst drink in the living spring. then reverently they kissed his garment's hem, and home returned, while he lay down to sleep. and sweetly as a babe the master slept-- no doubts, no darkness, and no troubled dreams. when rosy dawn next lit the eastern sky, and morning's grateful coolness filled the air, the master rose and his ablutions made. with bowl and staff in hand he took his way toward varanassi, hoping there to find the five toward whom his earnest spirit yearned. ten days have passed, and now the rising sun. that hangs above the distant mountain-peaks is mirrored back by countless rippling waves that dance upon the ganges' yellow stream, swollen by rains and melted mountain-snows, and glorifies the thousand sacred fanes[ ] with gilded pinnacles and spires and domes that rise in beauty on its farther bank, while busy multitudes glide up and down with lightly dipping oars and swelling sails. and pilgrims countless as those shining waves, from far and near, from mountain, hill and plain, with dust and travel-stained, foot-sore, heart-sick, here came to bathe within the sacred stream, here came to die upon its sacred banks, seeking to wash the stains of guilt away, seeking to lay their galling burdens down. scoff not at these poor heavy-laden souls! blindly they seek, but that all-seeing eye that sees the tiny sparrow when it falls, is watching them, his angels hover near. who knows what visions meet their dying gaze? who knows what joys await those troubled hearts? the ancient writings say that having naught to pay the ferryman, the churl refused to ferry him across the swollen stream, when he was raised and wafted through the air. what matter whether that all-powerful love which moves the worlds, and bears with all our sins, sent him a chariot and steeds of fire, or moved the heart of some poor fisherman to bear him over for a brother's sake? all power is his, and men can never thwart his all-embracing purposes of love. now past the stream and near the sacred grove the deer-park called, the five saw him approach. but grieved at his departure from the way the ancient sages taught, said with themselves they would not rise or do him reverence. but as he nearer came, the tender love, the holy calm that shone upon his face, made them at once forget their firm resolve. they rose together, doing reverence, and bringing water washed his way-soiled feet, gave him a mat, and said as with one voice: "master gautama, welcome to our grove. here rest your weary limbs and share our shade. have you escaped from karma's fatal chains and gained clear vision--found the living light?" "call me not master. profitless to you six years have passed," the buddha answered them, "in doubt and darkness groping blindly on. but now at last the day has surely dawned. these eyes have seen nirvana's sacred sun, and found the noble eightfold path that mounts from life's low levels, mounts from death's dark shades to changeless day, to never-ending rest." then with the prophet's newly kindled zeal, zeal for the truth his opened eyes had seen, zeal for the friends whose struggles he had shared, softened by sympathy and tender love, he taught how selfishness was primal cause of every ill to which frail flesh is heir, the poisoned fountain whence all sorrows flow, the loathsome worm that coils about the root and kills the germ of every springing joy, the subtle foe that sows by night the tares that quickly springing choke the goodly seed which left to grow would fill the daily life with balmy fragrance and with precious fruit. he showed that selfishness was life's sole bane and love its great and sovereign antidote. he showed how selfishness would change the child from laughing innocence to greedy youth and heartless manhood, cold and cruel age, which past the vale and stript of all disguise shrinks from the good, and eager slinks away and seeks those dismal regions of the lost his opened eyes with sinking heart had seen. then showed how love its guardian angel paints upon the cooing infant's smiling face, grows into gentle youth, and manhood rich in works of helpfulness and brotherhood, and ripens into mellow, sweet old age, childhood returned with all its gentleness, whose funeral-pile but lights the upward way to those sweet fields his opened eyes had seen, those ever-widening mansions of delight. enwrapt the teacher taught the living truth; enwrapt the hearers heard his living words; the night unheeded winged its rapid flight, the morning found their souls from darkness free. six yellow robes benares daily saw, six wooden alms-bowls held for daily food, six meeting sneers with smiles and hate with love, six watchers by the pilgrim's dying bed, six noble souls united in the work of giving light and hope and help to all. a rich and noble youth, an only son, had seen gautama passing through the streets, a holy calm upon his noble face, had heard him tell the pilgrims by the stream, gasping for breath and breathing out their lives, of higher life and joys that never end; and wearied, sated by the daily round of pleasure, luxury and empty show that waste his days but fail to satisfy, yet fearing his companions' gibes and sneers, he sought the master in the sacred grove when the full moon was mirrored in the stream, the sleeping city silvered by its light; and there he lingered, drinking in his words, till night was passed and day was well-nigh spent. the father, anxious for his absent son, had sought him through the night from street to street in every haunt that youthful folly seeks, and now despairing sought the sacred grove-- perhaps by chance, perhaps led by the light that guides the pigeon to her distant home-- and found him there. he too the buddha heard, and finding light, and filled with joy, he said: "illustrious master, you have found the way. you place the upturned chalice on its base. you fill with light the sayings dark of old. you open blinded eyes to see the truth." at length they thought of those poor hearts at home, mother and sister, watching through the night-- waiting and watching through the livelong day, startled at every step, at every sound, startled at every bier that came in view in that great city of the stranger dead, that city where the living come to die-- and home returned when evening's rose and gold had faded from the sky, and myriad lamps danced on the sacred stream, and moon and stars hung quivering in its dark and silent depths. but day by day returned, eager to hear more of that truth that sweetens daily life, yet reaches upward to eternal day. a marriage-feast,[ ] three festivals in one, stirs to its depths benares' social life. a gorgeous sunset ushers in the night, sunset and city mirrored in the stream. broad marble steps upon the river-bank lead to a garden where a blaze of bloom, a hedge of rose-trees, forms the outer wall; an aged banyan-tree,[ ] whose hundred trunks sustain a vaulted roof of living green which scarce a ray of noonday's sun can pierce, the garden's vestibule and outer court; while trees of every varied leaf and bloom shade many winding walks, where fountains fall with liquid cadence into shining pools. above, beyond, the stately palace stands, inviting in, calling to peace and rest, as if a soul dwelt in its marble form. the darkness thickens, when a flood of light fills every recess, lighting every nook; the garden hedge a wall of mellow light, a line of lamps along the river's bank, with lamps in every tree and lining every walk, while lamps thick set surround each shining pool, weaving with rainbow tints the falling spray. and now the palace through the darkness shines. a thing of beauty traced with lines of light.[ ] the guests arrive in light and graceful boats, in gay gondolas such as venice used, with richest carpets, richest canopies, and over walks with rose-leaves carpeted pass to the palace, whose wide open gates display within benares' rank and wealth, proud brahman lords and stately brahman dames and brahman youth and beauty, all were there, of aryan blood but bronzed by india's sun, not dressed like us, as very fashion-plates, but clothed in flowing robes of softest wool and finest silk, a harmony of shades, sparkling with gems, ablaze with precious stones.[ ] three noble couples greet their gathering guests: an aged brahman and his aged wife, for fifty years united in the bonds of wedded love, no harsh, unloving word for all those happy years, their only fear that death would break the bonds that bound their souls; and next their eldest born, who sought his son, and drank deep wisdom from the buddha's lips, and by his side that mother we have seen outwatch the night, whose sweet and earnest face by five and twenty years of wedded love, by five and twenty years of busy cares-- the cares of home, with all its daily joys-- had gained that look of holy motherhood[ ] that millions worship on their bended knees as highest emblem of eternal love; and last that sister whose untiring love watched by her mother through the weary hours, her fair young face all trust and happiness, before her, rainbow-tinted hopes and joys, life's dark and cold and cruel side concealed, and by her side a noble brahman youth, who saw in her his every hope fulfilled. but where is now that erring, wandering son, the pride of all these loyal, loving hearts, heir to this wealth and hope of this proud house? seven clothed in coarsest yellow robes draw near with heads close shorn and bare, unsandaled feet, alms-bowl on shoulder slung and staff in hand, but moving with that gentle stateliness that birth and blood, not wealth and effort, give, all in the strength of manhood's early prime, all heirs to wealth rejected, cast aside, but all united in the holy cause of giving light and hope and help to all, while earnest greetings from the evening's hosts show they are welcome and expected guests. startled, the stately brahmans turn aside. "the heir has lost his reason," whispered they, "and joined that wandering prince who late appeared among the yogis in the sacred grove, who thinks he sees the truth by inner sight, who fain would teach the wise, and claims to know more than the fathers and the vedas teach." but as he nearer came, his stately form, his noble presence and his earnest face, beaming with gentleness and holy love, hushed into silence every rising sneer. one of their number, wise in sacred lore, profoundly learned, in all the vedas versed, with courtly grace saluting buddha, said: "our brahman masters teach that many ways lead up to brahma loca, brahma's rest, as many roads from many distant lands all meet before benares' sacred shrines. they say that he who learns the vedas' hymns, performs the rites and prays the many prayers that all the sages of the past have taught, in brahma's self shall be absorbed at last-- as all the streams from mountain, hill and plain, that swell proud gunga's broad and sacred stream, at last shall mingle with the ocean's waves, they say that brahmans are a holy caste, of whiter skin and higher, purer blood, from brahma sprung, and brahma's only heirs, while you proclaim, if rumor speaks the truth, that only one hard road to brahma leads, that every caste is pure, of common blood, that all are brothers, all from brahma sprung." but buddha, full of gentleness, replied: "ye call on dyaus pittar, brahma, god,[ ] one god and father, called by many names, one god and father, seen in many forms, seen in the tempest, mingling sea and sky, the blinding sand-storm, changing day to night, in gentle showers refreshing thirsty fields, seen in the sun whose rising wakes the world, whose setting calls a weary world to rest, seen in the deep o'erarching azure vault, by day a sea of light, shining by night with countless suns of countless worlds unseen, making us seem so little, god so great. ye say that brahma dwells in purest light; ye say that brahma's self is perfect love; ye pray to brahma under many names to give you brahma loca's perfect rest.[ ] your prayers are vain unless your hearts are clean. for how can darkness dwell with perfect light? and how can hatred dwell with perfect love? the slandering tongue, that stirs up strife and hate, the grasping hand, that takes but never gives, the lying lips, the cold and cruel heart, whence bitterness and wars and murders spring, can ne'er by prayers to brahma loca climb.[ ] the pure in heart alone with brahma dwell. ye say that brahmans are a holy caste, from brahma sprung and brahma's only heirs; but yet in bactria, whence our fathers came, and where their brothers and our kindred dwell, no brahman ever wore the sacred cord. has mighty brahma there no son, no heir? the brahman mother suffers all the pangs kshatriyas, sudras or the vassas feel. the brahman's body, when the soul has fled, a putrid mass, defiles the earth and air, vile as the sudras or the lowest beasts. the brahman murderer, libertine or thief ye say will be reborn in lowest beast, while some poor sudra, full of gentleness and pity, charity and trust and love, may rise to brahma loca's perfect rest, why boast of caste, that seems so little worth to raise the soul or ward off human ill? why pray for what we do not strive to gain? like merchants on the swollen ganges' bank praying the farther shore to come to them, taking no steps, seeking no means, to cross. far better strive to cast out greed and hate. live not for self, but live for others' good. indulge no bitter speech, no bitter thoughts. help those in need; give freely what we have. kill not, steal not, and ever speak the truth. indulge no lust; taste not the maddening bowl that deadens sense and stirs all base desires; and live in charity and gentle peace, bearing all meekly, loving those who hate. this is the way to brahma loca's rest. and ye who may, come, follow after me. leave wealth and home and all the joys of life, that we may aid a sad and suffering world in sin and sorrow groping blindly on, becoming poor that others may be rich, wanderers ourselves to lead the wanderers home. and ye who stay, ever remember this: that hearth is brahma's altar where love reigns, that house is brahma's temple where love dwells, ye ask, my aged friends, if death can break the bonds that bind your souls in wedded love. fear not; death has no power to conquer love. go hand in hand till death shall claim his own, then hand in hand ascend nirvana's heights, there, hand in hand, heart beating close to heart, enter that life whose joys shall never end, perennial youth succeeding palsied age, mansions of bliss for this poor house of clay, labors of love instead of toil and tears." he spoke, and many to each other said: "why hear this babbler rail at sacred things-- our caste, our faith, our prayers and sacred hymns?" and strode away in proud and sovereign scorn; while some with gladness heard his solemn words, all soon forgotten in the giddy whirl of daily business, daily joys and cares. but some drank in his words with eager ears, and asked him many questions, lingering long, and often sought him in the sacred grove to hear his burning words of living truth. and day by day some noble brahman youth forsook his wealth, forsook his home and friends, and took the yellow robe and begging-bowl to ask for alms where all had given him place, meeting with gentleness the rabble's gibes, meeting with smiles the brahman's haughty scorn. thus, day by day, this school of prophets grew, beneath the banyan's columned, vaulted shade, all earnest learners at the master's feet, until the city's busy, bustling throng had come to recognize the yellow robe, the poor to know its wearer as a friend, the sick and suffering as a comforter, while to the dying pilgrim's glazing eyes he seemed a messenger from higher worlds come down to raise his sinking spirit up and guide his trembling steps to realms of rest. a year has passed, and of this growing band sixty are rooted, grounded in the faith, willing to do whate'er the master bids, ready to go where'er the master sends, eager to join returning pilgrim-bands and bear the truth to india's farthest bounds. with joy the master saw their burning zeal, so free from selfishness, so full of love, and thought of all those blindly groping souls to whom these messengers would bear the light. "go," said the master, "each a different way. go teach the common brotherhood of man. preach dharma, preach the law of perfect love, one law for high and low, for rich and poor. teach all to shun the cudgel and the sword, and treat with kindness every living thing. teach them to shun all theft and craft and greed, all bitter thoughts, and false and slanderous speech that severs friends and stirs up strife and hate. revere your own, revile no brother's faith. the light you see is from nirvana's sun, whose rising splendors promise perfect day. the feeble rays that light your brother's path are from the selfsame sun, by falsehoods hid, the lingering shadows of the passing night. chide none with ignorance, but teach the truth gently, as mothers guide their infants' steps, lest your rude manners drive them from the way that leads to purity and peace and rest-- as some rude swain in some sequestered vale, who thinks the visual line that girts him round the world's extreme, would meet with sturdy blows one rudely charging him with ignorance, yet gently led to some commanding height, whence he could see the himalayan peaks, the rolling hills and india's spreading plains, with joyful wonder views the glorious scene. pause not to break the idols of the past. be guides and leaders, not iconoclasts. their broken idols shock their worshipers, but led to light they soon forgotten lie." one of their number, young and strong and brave, a merchant ere he took the yellow robe, had crossed the frozen himalayan heights and found a race, alien in tongue and blood, gentle as children in their daily lives, untaught as children in all sacred things, living in wagons, wandering o'er the steppes, to-day all shepherds, tending countless flocks, to-morrow warriors, cruel as the grave, building huge monuments of human heads-- fearless, resistless, with the cyclone's speed leaving destruction in their bloody track, who drove the aryan from his native plains to seek a home in europe's trackless wastes. he yearned to seek these children of the wilds, and teach them peace and gentleness and love.[ ] "but, purna," said the master, "they are fierce. how will you meet their cruelty and wrath?" purna replied, "with gentleness and love." "but," said the master, "they may beat and wound." "and i will give them thanks to spare my life." "but with slow tortures they may even kill." "i with my latest breath will bless their names, so soon to free me from this prison-house and send me joyful to the other shore." "then," said the master, "purna, it is well. armed with such patience, seek these savage tribes. thyself delivered, free from karma's chains these souls enslaved; thyself consoled, console these restless children of the desert wastes; thyself this peaceful haven having reached, guide these poor wanderers to the other shore." with many counsels, many words of cheer, he on their mission sent his brethren forth, armed with a prophet's zeal, a brother's love, a martyr's courage, and the christian's hope that when life's duties end, its trials end, and higher life awaits those faithful found. the days pass on; and now the rising sun looks down on bands of pilgrims homeward bound, some moving north, some south, some east, some west, toward every part of india's vast expanse, one clothed in orange robes with every band to guide their kindred on the upward road. but purna joined the merchants he had led, not moved by thirst for gain, but love for man, to seek the tartar on his native steppes. meanwhile the master with diminished band crossing the ganges, backward wends his way toward rajagriha, and the vulture-peak where he had spent so many weary years, whither he bade the brothers gather in[ ] when summer's rains should bring the time for rest. [ ]varanassi is an old name of benares. [ ]it can be no exaggeration to put the number of sacred edifices that burst upon buddha's view as he first saw the holy city, at , , as phillips brooks puts the present number of such edifices in benares at , . [ ]in this marriage-feast three well-known incidents in the life of buddha and his teaching's on the three occasions are united. [ ]for the best description of the banyan-tree, see lady dufferin's account of the old tree at their out-of-town place in "our viceroyal life in india," and "two years in ceylon," by c.f. gordon cumming. [ ]those who saw the illuminations at chicago during the world's fair, with lines of incandescent electric lights, can get a good idea of the great illuminations in india with innumerable oil lamps, and those who did not should read lady dufferin's charming description of them in "our viceroyal life in india." [ ]lady dufferin says that the viceroy never wearied, in his admiration of the graceful flowing robes of the east as contrasted with our stiff, fashion-plate male attire. [ ]"the good lord could not be everywhere and therefore made mothers."--jewish saying from the talmud. [ ]max mueller calls attention to the remarkable fact that dyaus pittar, the highest name of deity among the ancient hindoos, is the exact equivalent of zeus pater among the greeks, jupiter among the romans, and of "our father who art in the heavens" in the divinely taught and holiest prayer of our own religion. [ ]how any one can think that buddha did not believe in a supreme being in the face and light of the wonderful sutra, or sermon of which, the text is but a condensation or abstract, is to me unaccountable. it is equally strange that any one should suppose he regarded nirvana, which is but another name for brahma loca, as meaning annihilation. to be sure he used the method afterwards adopted by socrates, and now known as the socratic method, of appealing to the unquestioned belief of the brahmans themselves as the foundation of his argument in support of that fundamental truth of all religions, that the pure in heart alone can see god. but to suppose that he was using arguments to convince them that he did not believe himself, is a libel on one whose absolute truthfulness and sincerity admit of no question. [ ]"he prayeth best who loveth best both man and bird and beast." --rime of the ancient mariner. [ ]whether the tartars were "the savage tribes" to whom purna, one of the sixty, was sent, may admit of question, but it is certain that long before the christian era the whole country north of the himalayas was thoroughly buddhist, and the unwearied missionaries of that great faith had penetrated so far west that they met alexander's army and boldly told him that war was wrong; and they had penetrated east to the confines of china. [ ]the large gatherings of the buddhist brotherhoods everywhere spoken of in the writings can only be accounted for on the supposition, which is more than a supposition, that they came to him in the rainy season, when they could do but little in their missions; and the substantial unity of the buddhist faith can only be accounted for on the supposition that his instructions were constantly renewed at these gatherings and their errors corrected. book viii. northward the noble purna took his way till india's fields and plains were lost to view, then through the rugged foot-hills upward climbed, and up a gorge by rocky ramparts walled, through which a mighty torrent thundered down, their treacherous way along the torrent's brink, or up the giddy cliffs where one false step would plunge them headlong in the raging stream, passing from cliff to cliff, their bridge of ropes swung high above the dashing, roaring waves. at length they cross the frozen mountain-pass, o'er wastes of snow by furious tempests swept, and cross a desert where no bird or beast is ever seen, and where their way is marked by bleaching bones strewn thick along their track.[ ] some perished by the way, and some turned back, while some of his companions persevered, cheered on by purna's never-flagging zeal, and by the master's words from purna's lips, until they reached the outmost wandering tribes of that great race that he had come to save. with joy received, these wandering tribes their guides-- for love makes friends where selfishness breeds strife-- they soon are led to where their kindred dwell. they saw the vanity of chasing wealth through hunger, danger, desolation, death. they felt a power sustaining purna's steps-- a power unseen yet ever hovering near-- they saw the truth of buddha's burning words that selfishness and greed drag down the soul, while love can nerve the feeblest arm with strength, and asked that purna take them as his aids. but ere brave purna reached his journey's end, near many hamlets, many indian towns, the moon, high risen to mark the noon of night, through many sacred fig-tree's rustling leaves[ ] sent trembling rays with trembling shadows mixed upon a noble youth in orange robes, his alms-bowl by his side, stretched out in sleep, dreaming, perchance, of some benares maid, perchance of home and joys so lately left. meanwhile the master with his little band toward rajagriha backward wends his way, some village tree their nightly resting--place, until they reached the grove that skirts the base of that bold mountain called the vulture-peak, through which the lotus-covered phalgu glides, o'erarched with trees festooned with trailing vines, while little streams leap down from rock to rock, cooling the verdant slopes and fragrant glades, and vines and shrubs and trees of varied bloom loaded the air with odors rich and sweet, and where that sacred fig-tree spread its shade above the mound that held the gathered dust of those sage brahmans who had sought to aid the young prince struggling for a clearer light, and where that banyan-tree for ages grew, so long the home of those five noble youths, now sundered far, some tree when night may fall their resting-place, their robe and bowl their all, their only food chance gathered day by day, preaching the common brotherhood of man, teaching the law of universal love, bearing the light to those in darkness sunk, lending a helping hand to those in need, teaching the strong that gentleness is great. and through this grove where many noble souls were seeking higher life and clearer light, he took his well-known way, and reached his cave just as the day was fading into night, and myriad stars spangled the azure vault, and myriad lamps that through the darkness shone revealed the city that the night had veiled, where soon their weary limbs were laid to rest; but through the silent hour preceding day, before the jungle-cock announced the dawn, all roused from sleep in meditation sat. but when the sun had set the east aglow, and roused the birds to sing their matin-song's, and roused the lowing herds to call their mates, and roused a sleeping world to daily toil, their matins chanted, their ablutions made, with bowl and staff in hand they took their way down to the city for their daily alms. but earlier steps had brushed their dewy path. from out the shepherd's cottage loving eyes had recognized the master's stately form, and love-winged steps had borne the joyful news that he, the poor man's advocate and friend, the sweet-voiced messenger of peace and love, the prince become a beggar for their sake, so long expected, now at last returns. from door to door the joyful tidings spread, and old and young from every cottage came. the merchant left his wares without a guard; the housewife left her pitcher at the well; the loom was idle and the anvil still; the money-changer told his coins alone, while all the multitude went forth to meet their servant-master and their beggar-prince. some brought the garden's choicest treasures forth, some gathered lotuses from phalgu's stream, some climbed the trees to pluck their varied bloom, while children gathered every wayside flower to strew his way--their lover, savior, guide. king bimbasara from his watch-tower saw the wild commotion and the moving throng, and sent swift messengers to learn the cause. with winged feet through vacant streets they flew, and through the gates and out an avenue where aged trees that grew on either side, their giant branches interlocked above, made nature's gothic arch and densest shade, while gentle breezes, soft as if they came from devas' hovering wings, rustle the leaves and strew the way with showers of falling bloom, as if they, voiceless, felt the common joy. and there they found the city's multitudes, not as in tumult, armed with clubs and staves, and every weapon ready to their hands, but stretching far on either side the way, their flower-filled hands in humble reverence joined, the only sound a murmur, "there he comes!" while every eye was turned in loving gaze upon a little band in yellow robes who now drew near from out the sacred grove. the master passed with calm, majestic grace, stately and tall, one arm and shoulder bare, with head close shorn and bare unsandaled feet, his noble brow, the wonder of his age, not clothed in terror like olympic jove's-- for love, not anger, beamed from out those eyes, changing from clearest blue to softest black, that seem to show unfathomed depths within, with tears of holy pity glittering now for those poor souls come forth to honor him, all sheep without a shepherd groping on. the messengers with reverence let him pass, then hastened back to tell the waiting king that he who dwelt so long upon the hill, the prince who stopped the bloody sacrifice, with other holy rishis had returned, whom all received with reverence and joy. the king with keenest pleasure heard their words. that noble form, that calm, majestic face, had never faded from his memory. his words of wisdom, words of tender love, had often stayed his hands when raised to strike, had often put a bridle on his tongue when harsh and bitter words leaped to his lips, and checked those cruel acts of sudden wrath that stain the annals of the greatest kings, until the people to each other said: "how mild and gentle our good king has grown!" and when he heard this prince had now returned, in flower-embroidered purple robes arrayed, with all the pomp and circumstance of state, followed by those who ever wait on power, he issued forth and climbed the rugged hill until he reached the cave where buddha sat, calm and majestic as the rounded moon that moves serene along its heavenly path. greeting each other with such royal grace as fits a prince greeting a brother prince, the king inquired why he had left his home? why he, a chakravartin's only son, had left his palace for a lonely cave, wore coarsest cloth instead of royal robes, and for a scepter bore a begging-bowl? "youth," said the king, "with full and bounding pulse, youth is the time for boon companionship, the time for pleasure, when all pleasures please; manhood, the time for gaining wealth and power; but as the years creep on, the step infirm, the arm grown feeble and the hair turned gray, 'tis time to mortify the five desires, to give religion what of life is left, and look to heaven when earth begins to pall. i would not use my power to hold you here, but offer half my kingdom for your aid to govern well and use my power aright." the prince with gentle earnestness replied: "o king, illustrious and world-renowned! your noble offer through all coming time shall be remembered. men will praise an act by likening it to bimbasara's gift. you offer me the half of your domain. i in return beseech you share with me better than wealth, better than kingly power, the peace and joy that follows lusts subdued. wait not on age--for age brings feebleness-- but this great battle needs our utmost strength. if you will come, then welcome to our cave; if not, may wisdom all your actions guide. ruling your empire in all righteousness, preserve your country and protect her sons. sadly i leave you, great and gracious king, but my work calls--a world that waits for light. in yonder sacred grove three brothers dwell-- kasyapa, gada, nadi, they are called; three chosen vessels for the perfect law, three chosen lamps to light a groping world, who worship now the gross material fire which burns and wastes but fails to purify. i go to tell them of nirvana's sun, perennial source of that undying flame, the fire of love, consuming lust and hate as forest fires devour the crackling thorns, until the soul is purified from sin, and sorrow, birth and death are left behind." he found kasyapa as the setting sun was sinking low behind the western hills, and somber shadows darkened phalgu's vale, and asked a place to pass the gathering night. "here is a grotto, cooled by trickling streams and overhanging shades, fit place for sleep," kasyapa said, "that i would gladly give; but some fierce naga nightly haunts the spot whose poisoned breath no man can breathe and live." "fear not for me," the buddha answered him, "for i this night will make my dwelling there." "do as you will," kasyapa doubtful said, "but much i fear some dire catastrophe." now mighty mara, spirit of the air, the prince of darkness, roaming through the earth had found this grotto in the sacred grove, and as a naga there kept nightly watch for those who sought deliverance from his power, who, when the master calmly took his seat, belched forth a flood of poison, foul and black, and with hot, burning vapors filled the cave. but buddha sat unmoved, serene and calm as brahma sits amid the kalpa fires that burn the worlds but cannot harm his heaven. while mara, knowing buddha, fled amazed and left the naga coiled in buddha's bowl.[ ] kasyapa, terrified, beheld the flames, and when the first faint rays of dawn appeared with all his fearful followers sought the cave, and found the master not consumed to dust, but full of peace, aglow with perfect love. kasyapa, full of wonder, joyful said: "i, though a master, have no power like this to conquer groveling lusts and evil beasts." then buddha taught the source of real power, the power of love to fortify the soul, until kasyapa gathered all his stores, his sacred vessels, sacrificial robes, and cast them in the phalgu passing near. his brothers saw them floating down the stream, and winged with fear made haste to learn the cause. they too the master saw, and heard his words, and all convinced received the perfect law, and with their followers joined the buddha's band. the days pass on, and in the bamboo-grove a great vihara as by magic rose, built by the king for buddha's growing band, a spacious hall where all might hear his words, and little cells where each might take his rest, a school and rest-house through the summer rains. but soon the monsoons from the distant seas bring gathering clouds to veil the brazen sky, while nimble lightnings dart their blinding flames, and rolling thunders shake the trembling hills, and heaven's downpourings drench the thirsty earth-- the master's seed-time when the people rest. for now the sixty from their distant fields have gathered in to trim their lamps afresh and learn new wisdom from the master's lips-- all but brave purna on the tartar steppes where summer is the fittest time for toil, when india's rains force india's sons to rest. the new vihara and the bamboo-grove king bimbasara to the master gave, where day by day he taught his growing school, while rills, grown torrents, leap from rock to rock, and phalgu's swollen stream sweeps down the vale. that saraputra after called the great had seen these new-come youths in yellow robes passing from street to street to ask for alms, receiving coarsest food with gentle thanks-- had seen them meet the poor and sick and old with kindly words and ever-helpful hands-- had seen them passing to the bamboo-grove joyful as bridegrooms soon to meet their brides. he, vashpa and asvajit met one day, whom he had known beneath the banyan-tree, two of the five who first received the law, now clothed in yellow, bearing begging-bowls, and asked their doctrine, who their master was, that they seemed joyful, while within the grove all seemed so solemn, self-absorbed and sad. they bade him come and hear the master's words, and when their bowls were filled, he followed them, and heard the living truth from buddha's lips, and said: "the sun of wisdom has arisen. what further need of our poor flickering lamps?" and with mugallan joined the master's band. and now five strangers from the tartar steppes, strangers in form and features, language, dress, guided by one as strange in dress as they, weary and foot-sore, passed within the gates of rajagriha, while the rising sun was still concealed behind the vulture-peak, a laughing-stock to all the idle crowd, whom noisy children followed through the streets as thoughtless children follow what is strange, until they met the master asking alms, who with raised hand and gentle, mild rebuke hushed into silence all their noisy mirth. "these are our brothers," buddha mildly said. "weary and worn they come from distant lands, and ask for kindness--not for mirth and jeers." they knew at once that calm, majestic face, that voice as sweet as brahma's, and those eyes beaming with tender, all-embracing love, of which, while seated round their argol fires in their black tents, brave purna loved to tell, and bowed in worship at the master's feet. he bade them rise, and learned from whence they came, and led them joyful to the bamboo-grove, where some brought water from the nearest stream to bathe their festered feet and weary limbs, while some brought food and others yellow robes-- fitter for india's heat than skins and furs-- all welcoming their new-found friends who came from distant lands, o'er desert wastes and snows, to see the master, hear the perfect law, and bring the message noble purna sent. the months pass on; the monsoons cease to blow, the thunders cease to roll, the rains to pour; the earth, refreshed, is clothed with living green, and flowers burst forth where all was parched and bare, and busy toil succeeds long days of rest. the time for mission work has come. the brethren, now to many hundreds grown, where'er the master thought it best were sent. the strongest and the bravest volunteered to answer purna's earnest call for help, and clothed in fitting robes for piercing cold they scale the mountains, pass the desert wastes, their guide familiar with their terrors grown; while some return to their expectant flocks, and some are sent to kindred lately left, and some to strangers dwelling near or far-- all bearing messages of peace and love-- until but few in yellow robes remain, and single footfalls echo through that hall where large assemblies heard the master's words. a few are left, not yet confirmed in faith; and those five brothers from the distant north remain to learn the sacred tongue and lore, while saraputra and kasyapa stay to aid the master in his special work. from far kosala, rich sudata came, friend of the destitute and orphans called. in houses rich, and rich in lands and gold, but richer far in kind and gracious acts, who stopped in rajagriha with a friend. but when he learned a buddha dwelt so near, and heard the gracious doctrine he proclaimed, that very night he sought the bamboo-grove, while roofs and towers were silvered by the moon, and silent streets in deepest shadows lay, and bamboo-plumes seemed waving silver sprays, and on the ground the trembling shadows played. humble in mind but great in gracious deeds, of earnest purpose but of simple heart, the master saw in him a vessel fit for righteousness, and bade him stay and learn his rules of grace that bring nirvana's rest. and first of all the gracious master said: "this restless nature and this selfish world is all a phantasy and empty show; its life is lust, its end is pain and death. waste not your time in speculations deep of whence and why. one thing we surely know: each living thing must have a living cause, and mind from mind and not from matter springs; while love, which like an endless golden chain. binds all in one, is love in every link, up from the sparrow's nest, the mother's heart, through all the heavens to brahma's boundless love. and lusts resisted, daily duties done, unite our lives to that unbroken chain which draws us up to heaven's eternal rest." and through the night they earnestly communed, until sudata saw the living truth in rising splendor, like the morning sun, and doubts and errors all are swept away as gathering clouds are swept by autumn's winds. bowing in reverence, sudata said: "i know the buddha never seeks repose, but gladly toils to give to others rest. o that my people, now in darkness sunk, might see the light and hear the master's words! i dwell in king pasenit's distant realm-- a king renowned, a country fair and rich-- and yearn to build a great vihara there." the master, knowing well sudata's heart and his unselfish charity, replied: "some give in hope of greater gifts returned; some give to gain a name for charity; some give to gain the rest and joy of heaven, some to escape the woes and pains of hell. such giving is but selfishness and greed, but he who gives without a selfish thought has entered on the noble eightfold path, is purified from anger, envy, hate. the bonds of pain and sorrow are unloosed; the way to rest and final rescue found. let your hands do what your kind heart desires." hearing this answer, he departs with joy, and buddha with him saraputra sent. arriving home, he sought a pleasant spot, and found the garden of pasenit's son, and sought the prince, seeking to buy the ground. but he refused to sell, yet said in jest: "cover the grove with gold, the ground is yours." forthwith sudata spread his yellow coin. but gata said, caught by his thoughtless jest: "spread not your gold--i will not sell the ground." "not sell the ground?" sudata sharply said, "why then said you, 'fill it with yellow gold'?" and both contending sought a magistrate. but gata, knowing well his earnestness, asked why he sought the ground; and when he learned, he said: "keep half your gold; the land is yours, but mine the trees, and jointly we will build a great vihara for the buddha's use." the work begun was pressed both night and day; lofty it rose, in just proportions built, fit for the palace of a mighty king. the people saw this great vihara rise, a stately palace for a foreign prince, and said in wonder: "what strange thing is this? our king to welcome thus a foreign king to new-made palaces, and not with war and bloody spears and hands to new-made graves, as was his father's wont in times gone by?" yet all went forth to meet this coming prince, and see a foreign monarch's royal pomp, but heard no trumpeting of elephants, nor martial music, nor the neigh of steeds, but saw instead a little band draw near in yellow robes, with dust and travel-stained; but love, that like a holy halo crowned that dusty leader's calm, majestic brow, hushed into silence every rising sneer. and when sudata met this weary band, and to the prince's garden led their way, they followed on, their hands in reverence joined, to where the stately new vihara rose, enbowered in giant trees of every kind that india's climate grows, while winding streams along their flowery banks now quiet flow, now leap from rocks, now spread in shining pools with lotuses and lilies overspread, while playing fountains with their falling spray spread grateful coolness, and a blaze of bloom from myriad opening flowers perfumes the air, and myriad birds that sought this peaceful spot burst forth in every sweet and varied song that india's fields and groves and gardens know. and there sudata bowed on bended knee, and from a golden pitcher water poured, the sign and sealing of their gift of love of this vihara, gatavana called, a school and rest-house for the buddha's use, and for the brotherhood throughout the world. buddha received it with the fervent prayer that it might give the kingdom lasting peace. unlike sudata's self, sudata's king believed religion but a comely cloak to hide besetting sins from public view, and sought the master in his new retreat to talk religion and to act a part, and greetings ended, said in solemn wise: "uneasy lies the head that wears a crown; but my poor kingdom now is doubly blest in one whose teachings purify the soul and give the highest and the humblest rest, as all are cleansed who bathe in rapti's stream." but buddha saw through all this outer show his real purposes and inner life: the love of pleasure blighting high resolve, the love of money, root of every ill, that sends its poison fibers through the soul and saps its life and wastes its vital strength. "the tathagata only shows the way to purity and rest," the master said. "there is a way to darkness out of light, there is a way to light from deepest gloom. they only gain the goal who keep the way. harsh words and evil deeds to sorrow lead as sure as shadows on their substance wait. for as we sow, so also shall we reap. boast not overmuch of kingly dignity. a king most needs a kind and loving heart to love his subjects as an only son, to aid--not injure, comfort--not oppress, their help, protector, father, friend and guide. such kings shall live beloved and die renowned, whose works shall welcome them to heavenly rest." the king, convicted, heard his solemn words that like an arrow pierced his inmost life. to him religion ceased to be a show of chants and incense, empty forms and creeds, but stood a living presence in his way to check his blind and headlong downward course, and lead him to the noble eightfold path, that day by day and step by step shall lead to purity and peace and heavenly rest. kapilavastu's king, suddhodana, his step grown feeble, snowy white his hair, by cares oppressed and sick with hope deferred, for eight long years had waited for his son. but sweet yasodhara, in widow's weeds, her love by sorrow only purified as fire refines the gold by dross debased, though tender memories bring unbidden tears, wasted no time in morbid, selfish grief, but sought in care for others her own cure. both son and daughter to the aged king, she aids with counsels, soothes with tender care. father and mother to her little son, she lavishes on him a double love. and oft on mercy's missions going forth, shunning the pomp and show of royal state, leading rahula, prattling by her side, the people saw her pass with swelling hearts, as if an angel clothed in human form. and now strange rumors reach the public ear, by home-bound pilgrims from benares brought and merchantmen from rajagriha come, that there a holy rishi had appeared whom all believed a very living buddh, while kings and peoples followed after him. these rumors reached the sweet yasodhara, and stirred these musings in her watchful heart: "stately and tall they say this rishi is, gentle to old and young, to rich and poor, and filled with love for every living thing. but who so gentle, stately, tall and grand as my siddartha? who so full of love? and he has found the light siddartha sought! it must be he--my own, my best beloved! and surely he will hither come, and bring to his poor people, now in darkness sunk, that living light he left his home to seek." as the same sun that makes the cedars grow and sends their vital force through giant oaks, clothes fields with green and decks the wayside flower, and crowns the autumn with its golden fruits, so that same love which swept through buddha's soul and drove him from his home to seek and save, warmed into brighter glow each lesser love of home and people, father, wife and child,[ ] and often through those long and troubled years he felt a burning longing to return. and now, when summer rains had ceased to fall, and his disciples were again, sent forth, both love and duty with united voice bade him revisit his beloved home, and saraputra and kasyapa joined the master wending on his homeward way, while light-winged rumor bore yasodhara this joyful news: "the holy rishi comes." without the southern gate a garden lay, lumbini called, by playing fountains cooled, with shaded walks winding by banks of flowers, whose mingled odors load each passing breeze. thither yasodhara was wont to go, for there her lord and dearest love was born, and there they passed full many happy days. the southern road skirted this garden's wall, while on the other side were suburb huts where toiling poor folk and the base-born dwell. and near this wall a bright pavilion rose, whence she could see each passer by the way. one morning, after days of patient watch, she saw approach along this dusty road three seeming pilgrims, clothed in yellow robes, presenting at each humble door their bowls for such poor food as these poor folk could give. as they drew near, a growing multitude, from every cottage swelled, followed their steps, gazing with awe upon the leader's face, while each to his companion wondering said: "who ever saw a rishi such as this, who calls us brothers, whom the brahmans scorn?" but sweet yasodhara, with love's quick sight, knew him she waited for, and forth she rushed, crying: "siddartha, o my love! my lord!" and prostrate in the dust she clasped his feet. he gently raised and pressed her to his heart in one most tender, loving, long embrace. by that embrace her every heartache cured, she calmly said: "give me a humble part in your great work, for though my hands are weak my heart is strong, and my weak hands can bear the cooling cup to fever's burning lips; my mother's heart has more than room enough for many outcasts, many helpless waifs." and there in presence of that base-born throng, who gazed with tears and wonder on the scene, and in a higher presence, who can doubt he made her first of that great sisterhood, since through the ages known in every land, who gently raise the dying soldier's head, where cruel war is mangling human limbs; who smooth the pillow, bathe the burning brow of sick and helpless strangers taken in; whose tender care has made the orphans' home, for those poor waifs who know no mother's love. then toward the palace they together went to their rahula and the aged king, while streets were lined and doors and windows filled with eager gazers at the prince returned in coarsest robes, with closely shaven head, returned a buddha who went forth a prince. through all these troubled, weary, waiting years, the king still hoped to see his son return in royal state, with kings for waiting-men, to rule a willing world as king of kings. but now that son enters his palace-gates in coarsest beggar-garb, his alms-bowl filled with sudras' leavings for his daily food. the king with mingled grief and anger said: "is this the end of all our cherished hopes, the answer to such lofty prophecies, to see the heir of many mighty king's enter his kingdom like a beggar-tramp? this the return for all the patient love of sweet yasodhara, and this the way to teach his duty to your royal son?" the prince with reverence kissed his father's hand, bent loving eyes upon his troubled brow that banished all his bitterness and said: "how hard it is to give up cherished hopes i know full well. i know a father's love. your love for me i for rahula feel, and who can better know that deepest love whose tendrils round my very heartstrings twine! but crores of millions, with an equal love, fathers and mothers, children, husbands, wives, in doubt and darkness groping blindly on, cry out for help. not lack of love for you, or my rahula or yasodhara, but love for them drove me to leave my home. the greatest kingdoms are like ocean's foam, a moment white upon the crested wave. the longest life is but a passing dream, whose changing scenes but fill a moment's space. but these poor souls shall live in joy or woe while nations rise and fall and kalpas pass, and this proud city crumbles to decay till antiquarians search its site in vain, and beasts shall burrow where this palace stands. not for the pleasures of a passing day, like shadows flitting ere you point their place, not for the transient glories of a king, now clothed in scarlet but to-morrow dust, can i forget those loving, living souls, groping in darkness, vainly asking help." and then he showed the noble eightfold path from life's low levels to nirvana's heights, while king and people on the master gazed, whose face, beaming with pure, unselfish love, transfigured seemed; and many noble youth, and chief ananda, the beloved called, forsook their gay companions and the round of youthful sports, and joined the master's band. and as he spoke, crores more than mortals saw gathered to hear, and king suddhodana and sweet yasodhara entered the path. [ ]i have substantially followed the description of this fearful route given by fa hian, the chinese buddhist pilgrim, who passed by it from china to india. [ ]like the aspen, the leaf of the sacred fig-tree is always trembling.--"two years in ceylon," cumming. [ ]this is asvaghosha's version, but the sanchi inscriptions make the naga or cobra rise up behind buddha and extend its hood over his head as a shelter. [ ]some buddhists teach that buddha had conquered all human affections, and even enter into apologies for a show of affection for his wife, one of the most elaborate of which arnold, in the "light of asia," puts into his own mouth; but this is no more like the teachings of buddha than the doctrine of infant damnation is like the teachings of him who said: "suffer the little children to come unto me, and forbid them not; for of such is the kingdom of god." barlaam and ioasaph by st. john damascene (?) ("st. john of damascus") c. - a.d. it is not known where or when this story was written, but it is believed to have been translated into greek (possibly from a georgian original) sometime in the th century a.d. although the ultimate author is usually referred to as "john the monk", it has been traditionally ascribed to st. john of damascus. the text of this edition is based on that published as st. john damascene: barlaam and ioasaph (trans: g.r. woodward and h. mattingly; harvard university press, cambridge ma, ). this text is in the public domain in he united states. this electronic edition was edited, proofed, and prepared by douglas b. killings (detroyes@enteract.com), november, . preparer's note: readers of this work will note some startling similarities between the story of ioasaph and the traditional tale of buddha. the work seems to be a retelling of the buddha legend from within a christian context, with the singular difference that the "buddha" in this tale reaches enlightenment through the love of jesus christ. the popularity of the greek version of this story is attested to by the number of translations made of it throughout the christian world, including versions in latin, old slavonic, armenian, christian arabic, english, ethiopic, and french. such was its popularity that both barlaam and josaphat (ioasaph) were eventually recognized by the roman catholic church as saints, and churches were dedicated in their honor from portugal to constantinople. it was only after europeans began to have increased contacts with india that scholars began to notice the similarities between the two sets of stories. modern scholars believe that the buddha story came to europe from arabic, caucasus, and/or persian sources, all of which were active in trade between the european and indian worlds. --dbk ***************************************************************** selected bibliography: original text-- woodward, g.r. & h. mattingly (ed. & trans.): "st. john damascene: barlaam and ioasaph" (harvard university press, cambridge ma, ). english translation with side-by-side greek text. recommended reading-- lang, david marshall (trans.): "the balavariani: a tale from the christian east" (california university press, los angeles, ). translation of the georgian work that probably served as a basis for the greek text. ***************************************************************** barlaam and ioasaph an edifying story from the inner land of the ethiopians, called the land of the indians, thence brought to the holy city, by john the monk (an honourable man and a virtuous, of the monastery of saint sabas); wherein are the lives of the famous and blessed barlaam and ioasaph. introduction "as many as are led by the spirit of god they are sons of god" saith the inspired apostle. now to have been accounted worthy of the holy spirit and to have become sons of god is of all things most to be coveted; and, as it is written, "they that have become his sons find rest from all enquiry." this marvellous, and above all else desirable, blessedness have the saints from the beginning won by the practice of the virtues, some having striven as martyrs, and resisted sin unto blood, and others having struggled in self-discipline, and having trodden the narrow way, proving martyrs in will. now, that one should hand down to memory the prowess and virtuous deeds of these, both of them that were made perfect by blood, and of them that by self-denial did emulate the conversation of angels, and should deliver to the generations that follow a pattern of virtue, this hath the church of christ received as a tradition from the inspired apostles, and the blessed fathers, who did thus enact for the salvation of our race. for the pathway to virtue is rough and steep, especially for such as have not yet wholly turned unto the lord, but are still at warfare, through the tyranny of their passions. for this reason also we need many encouragements thereto, whether it be exhortations, or the record of the lives of them that have travelled on the road before us; which latter draweth us towards it the less painfully, and doth accustom us not to despair on account of the difficulty of the journey. for even as with a man that would tread a hard and difficult path; by exhortation and encouragement one may scarce win him to essay it, but rather by pointing to the many who have already completed the course, and at the last have arrived safely. so i too, "walking by this rule," and heedful of the danger hanging over that servant who, having received of his lord the talent, buried it in the earth, and hid out of use that which was given him to trade withal, will in no wise pass over in silence the edifying story that hath come to me, the which devout men from the inner land of the ethiopians, whom our tale calleth indians, delivered unto me, translated from trustworthy records. it readeth thus. i. the country of the indians, as it is called, is vast and populous, lying far beyond egypt. on the side of egypt it is washed by seas and navigable gulphs, but on the mainland it marcheth with the borders of persia, a land formerly darkened with the gloom of idolatry, barbarous to the last degree, and wholly given up to unlawful practices. but when "the only-begotten son of god, which is in the bosom of the father," being grieved to see his own handiwork in bondage unto sin, was moved with compassion for the same, and shewed himself amongst us without sin, and, without leaving his father's throne, dwelt for a season in the virgin's womb for our sakes, that we might dwell in heaven, and be re-claimed from the ancient fall, and freed from sin by receiving again the adoption of sons; when he had fulfilled every stage of his life in the flesh for our sake, and endured the death of the cross, and marvellously united earth and heaven; when he had risen again from the dead, and had been received up into heaven, and was seated at the right hand of the majesty of the father, whence, according to his promise, he sent down the comforter, the holy ghost, unto his eyewitnesses and disciples, in the shape of fiery tongues, and despatched them unto all nations, for to give light to them that sat in the darkness of ignorance, and to baptize them in the name of the father, and of the son, and of the holy ghost, whereby it fell to the lot of some of the apostles to travel to the far-off east and to some to journey to the west-ward, while others traversed the regions north and south, fulfilling their appointed tasks then it was, i say, that one of the company of christ's twelve apostles, most holy thomas, was sent out to the land of the indians, preaching the gospel of salvation. "the lord working with him and confirming the word with signs following," the darkness of superstition was banished; and men were delivered from idolatrous sacrifices and abominations, and added to the true faith, and being thus transformed by the hands of the apostle, were made members of christ's household by baptism, and, waxing ever with fresh increase, made advancement in the blameless faith and built churches in all their lands. now when monasteries began to be formed in egypt, and numbers of monks banded themselves together, and when the fame of their virtues and angelic conversation "was gone out into all the ends of the world" and came to the indians, it stirred them up also to the like zeal, insomuch that many of them forsook everything and withdrew to the deserts; and, though but men in mortal bodies, adopted the spiritual life of angels. while matters were thus prospering and many were soaring upward to heaven on wings of gold, as the saying is, there arose in that country a king named abenner, mighty in riches and power, and in victory over his enemies, brave in warfare, vain of his splendid stature and comeliness of face, and boastful of all worldly honours, that pass so soon away. but his soul was utterly crushed by poverty, and choked with many vices, for he was of the greek way, and sore distraught by the superstitious error of his idol-worship. but, although he lived in luxury, and in the enjoyment of the sweet and pleasant things of life, and was never baulked of any of his wishes and desires, yet one thing there was that marred his happiness, and pierced his soul with care, the curse of childlessness. for being without issue, he took ceaseless thought how he might be rid of this hobble, and be called the father of children, a name greatly coveted by most people. such was the king, and such his mind. meanwhile the glorious band of christians and the companies of monks, paying no regard to the king's majesty, and in no wise terrified by his threats, advanced in the grace of christ, and grew in number beyond measure, making short account of the king's words, but cleaving closely to everything that led to the service of god. for this reason many, who had adopted the monastic rule, abhorred alike all the sweets of this world, and were enamoured of one thing only, namely godliness, thirsting to lay down their lives for christ his sake, and yearning for the happiness beyond. wherefore they preached, not with fear and trembling, but rather even with excess of boldness, the saving name of god, and naught but christ was on their lips, as they plainly proclaimed to all men the transitory and fading nature of this present time, and the fixedness and incorruptibility of the life to come, and sowed in men the first seeds, as it were, towards their becoming of the household of god, and winning that life which is hid in christ. wherefore many, profiting by this most pleasant teaching, turned away from the bitter darkness of error, and approached the sweet light of truth; insomuch that certain of their noblemen and senators laid aside all the burthens of life, and thenceforth became monks. but when the king heard thereof, he was filled with wrath, and, boiling over with indignation, passed a decree forthwith, compelling all christians to renounce their religion. thereupon he planned and practised new kinds of torture against them, and threatened new forms of death. so throughout all his dominions he sent letters to his rulers and governors ordering penalties against the righteous, and unlawful massacres. but chiefly was his displeasure turned against the ranks of the monastic orders, and against them he waged a truceless and unrelenting warfare. hence, of a truth, many of the faithful were shaken in spirit, and others, unable to endure torture, yielded to his ungodly decrees. but of the chiefs and rulers of the monastic order some in rebuking his wickedness ended their lives by suffering martyrdom, and thus attained to everlasting felicity; while others hid themselves in deserts and mountains, not from dread of the threatened tortures, but by a more divine dispensation. ii. now while the land of the indians lay under the shroud of this moonless night, and while the faithful were harried on every side, and the champions of ungodliness prospered, the very air reeking with the smell of bloody sacrifices, a certain mall of the royal household, chief satrap in rank, in courage, stature, comeliness, and in all those qualities which mark beauty of body and nobility of soul, far above all his fellows, hearing of this iniquitous decree, bade farewell to all the grovelling pomps and vanities of the world, joined the ranks of the monks, and retired across the border into the desert. there, by fastings and vigils, and by diligent study of the divine oracles, he throughly purged his senses, and illumined a soul, set free from every passion, with the glorious light of a perfect calm. but when the king, who loved and esteemed him highly, heard thereof, he was grieved in spirit at the loss of his friend, but his anger was the more hotly kindled against the monks. and so he sent everywhere in search of him, leaving "no stone unturned," as the saying is, to find him. after a long while, they that were sent in quest of him, having learnt that he abode in the desert, after diligent search, apprehended him and brought him before the king's judgement seat. when the king saw him in such vile and coarse raiment who before had been clad in rich apparel,--saw him, who had lived in the lap of luxury, shrunken and wasted by the severe practice of discipline, and bearing about in his body outward and visible signs of his hermit-life, he was filled with mingled grief and fury, and, in speech blended of these two passions, he spake unto him thus: "o thou dullard and mad man, wherefore hast thou exchanged thine honour for shame, and thy glorious estate for this unseemly show? to what end hath the president of my kingdom, and chief commander of my realm made himself the laughingstock of boys, and not only forgotten utterly our friendship and fellowship, but revolted against nature herself, and had no pity on his own children, and cared naught for riches and all the splendour of the world, and chosen ignominy such as this rather than the glory that men covet? and what shall it profit thee to have chosen above all gods and men him whom they call jesus, and to have preferred this rough life of sackcloth to the pleasures and delights of a life of bliss." when the man of god heard these words, he made reply, at once courteous and unruffled: "if it be thy pleasure, o king, to converse with me, remove thine enemies out of mid court; which done, i will answer thee concerning whatsoever thou mayest desire to learn; for while these are here, i cannot speak with thee. but, without speech, torment me, kill me, do as thou wilt, for "the world is crucified unto me, and i unto the world,' as saith my divine teacher." the king said, "and who are these enemies whom thou biddest me turn out of court?" the saintly man answered and said, "anger and desire. for at the beginning these twain were brought into being by the creator to be fellow-workers with nature; and such they still are to those 'who walk not after the flesh but after the spirit.' but in you who are altogether carnal, having nothing of the spirit, they are adversaries, and play the part of enemies and foemen. for desire, working in you, stirreth up pleasure, but, when made of none effect, anger. to-day therefore let these be banished from thee, and let wisdom and righteousness sit to hear and judge that which we say. for if thou put anger and desire out of court, and in their room bring in wisdom and righteousness, i will truthfully tell thee all." then spake the king, "lo i yield to thy request, and will banish out of the assembly both desire and anger, and make wisdom and righteousness to sit between us. so now, tell me without fear, how wast thou so greatly taken with this error, to prefer the bird in the bush to the bird already in the hand?" the hermit answered and said, "o king, if thou askest the cause how i came to despise things temporal, and to devote my whole self to the hope of things eternal, hearken unto me. in former days, when i was still but a stripling, i heard a certain good and wholesome saying, which, by its three took my soul by storm; and the remembrance of it, like some divine seed, being planted in my heart, unmoved, was preserved ever until it took root, blossomed, and bare that fruit which thou seest in me. now the meaning of that sentence was this: 'it seemed good to the foolish to despise the things that are, as though they were not, and to cleave and cling to the things that are not, as though they were. so he, that hath never tasted the sweetness of the things that are, will not be able to understand the nature of the things that are not. and never having understood them, how shall he despise them?' now that saying meant by 'things that are' the things eternal and fixed, but by 'things that are not' earthly life, luxury, the prosperity that deceives, whereon, o king, thine heart alas! is fixed amiss. time was when i also clung thereto myself. but the force of that sentence continually goading my heart, stirred my governing power, my mind, to make the better choice. but 'the law of sin, warring against the law of my mind,' and binding me, as with iron chains, held me captive to the love of things present. "but 'after that the kindness and love of god our saviour' was pleased to deliver me from that harsh captivity, he enabled my mind to overcome the law of sin, and opened mine eyes to discern good from evil. thereupon i perceived and looked, and behold! all things present are vanity and vexation of spirit, as somewhere in his writings saith solomon the wise. then was the veil of sin lifted from mine heart, and the dullness, proceeding from the grossness of my body, which pressed upon my soul, was scattered, and i perceived the end for which i was created, and how that it behoved me to move upward to my creator by the keeping of his commandments. wherefore i left all and followed him, and i thank god through jesus christ our lord that he delivered me out of the mire, and from the making of bricks, and from the harsh and deadly ruler of the darkness of this world, and that he showed me the short and easy road whereby i shall be able, in this earthen body, eagerly to embrace the angelic life. seeking to attain to it the sooner, i chose to walk the strait and narrow way, renouncing the vanity of things present and the unstable changes and chances thereof, and refusing to call anything good except the true good, from which thou, o king, art miserably sundered and alienated. wherefore also we ourselves were alienated and separated from thee, because thou wert falling into plain and manifest destruction, and wouldst constrain us also to descend into like peril. but as long as we were tried in the warfare of this world, we failed in no point of duty. thou thyself will bear me witness that we were never charged with sloth or heedlessness. "but when thou hast endeavoured to rob us of the chiefest of all blessings, our religion, and to deprive us of god, the worst of deprivations, and, in this intent, dost remind us of past honours and preferments, how should i not rightly tax thee with ignorance of good, seeing that thou dost at all compare these two things, righteousness toward god, and human friendship, and glory, that runneth away like water? and how, in such ease, may we have fellowship with thee, and not the rather deny ourselves friendship and honours and love of children, and if there be any other tie greater than these? when we see thee, o king, the rather forgetting thy reverence toward that god, who giveth thee the power to live and breathe, christ jesus, the lord of all; who, being alike without beginning, and coeternal with the father, and having created the heavens and the earth by his word, made man with his own hands and endowed him with immortality, and set him king of all on earth and assigned him paradise, the fairest place of all, as his royal dwelling. but man, beguiled by envy, and (wo is me!) caught by the bait of pleasure, miserably fell from all these blessings. so he that once was enviable became a piteous spectacle, and by his misfortune deserving of tears. wherefore he, that had made and fashioned us, looked again with eyes of compassion upon the work of his own hands. he, not laying aside his god-head, which he had from the beginning, was made man for our sakes, like ourselves, but without sin, and was content to suffer death upon the cross. he overthrew the foeman that from the beginning had looked with malice on our race; he rescued us from that bitter captivity; he, of his goodness, restored to us our former freedom, and, of his tender love towards mankind, raised us up again to that place from whence by our disobedience we had fallen, granting us even greater honour than at the first. "him therefore, who endured such sufferings for our sakes, and again bestowed such blessings upon us, him dost thou reject and scoff at his cross? and, thyself wholly riveted to carnal delights and deadly passions, dost thou proclaim the idols of shame and dishonour gods? not only hast thou alienated thyself from the commonwealth of heavenly felicity but thou hast also severed from the same all others who obey thy commands, to the peril of their souls. know therefore that i will not obey thee, nor join thee in such ingratitude to god-ward; neither will i deny my benefactor and saviour, though thou slay me by wild beasts, or give me to the fire and sword, as thou hast the power. for i neither fear death, nor desire the present world, having passed judgement on the frailty and vanity thereof. for what is there profitable, abiding or stable therein? nay, in very existence, great is the misery, great the pain, great and ceaseless the attendant care. of its gladness and enjoyment the yoke-fellows are dejection and pain. its riches is poverty; its loftiness die lowest humiliation; and who shall tell the full tale of its miseries, which saint john the divine hath shown me in few words? for he saith, 'the whole world lieth in wickedness'; and, 'love not the world, neither the things that are in the world. for all that is in the world is the lust of the flesh, and the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life. and the world passeth away, and the lust thereof, but he that doeth the will of god abideth for ever.' seeking, then, this good will of god, i have forsaken everything, and joined myself to those who possess the same desire, and seek after the same god. amongst these there is no strife or envy, sorrow or care, but all run the like race that they may obtain those everlasting habitations which the father of lights hath prepared for them that love him. them have i gained for my fathers, my brothers, my friends and mine acquaintances. but from my former friends and brethren 'i have got me away far off, and lodged in the wilderness' waiting for the god, who saveth me from faintness of spirit, and from the stormy tempest." when the man of god had made answer thus gently and in good reason, the king was stirred by anger, and was minded cruelly to torment the saint; but again he hesitated and delayed, regarding his venerable and noble mien. so he answered and said: "unhappy man, that hast contrived thine own utter ruin, driven thereto, i ween, by fate, surely thou hast made thy tongue as sharp as thy wits. hence thou hast uttered these vain and ambiguous babblings. had i not promised, at the beginning of our converse, to banish anger from mid court, i had now given thy body to be burned. but since thou hast prevented and tied me down fast by my words, i bear with thine effrontery, by reason of my former friendship with thee. now, arise, and flee for ever from my sight, lest i see thee again and miserably destroy thee." so the man of god went out and withdrew to the desert, grieved to have lost the crown of martyrdom, but daily a martyr in his conscience, and 'wrestling against principalities and powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world, against spiritual wickedness'; as saith blessed paul. but after his departure, the king waxed yet more wroth, and devised a yet fiercer persecution of the monastic order, while treating with greater honour the ministers and temple-keepers of his idols. while the king was under this terrible delusion and error, there was born unto him a son, a right goodly child, whose beauty from his very birth was prophetic of his future fortunes. nowhere in that land, they said, had there ever been seen so charming and lovely a babe. full of the keenest joy at the birth of the child, the king called him ioasaph, and in his folly went in person to the temples of his idols, for to do sacrifice and offer hymns of praise to his still more foolish gods, unaware of the real giver of all good things, to whom he should have offered the spiritual sacrifice. he then, ascribing the cause of his son's birth to things lifeless and dumb, sent out into all quarters to gather the people together to celebrate his son's birth-day: and thou mightest have seen all the folk running together for fear of the king, and bringing their offerings ready for the sacrifice, according to the store at each man's hand, and his favour toward his lord. but chiefly the king stirred them up to emulation. he brought full many oxen, of goodly size, for sacrifice, and thus, making a feast for all his people, he bestowed largesses on all his counsellors and officers, and on all his soldiers, and all the poor, and men of low degree. iii. now on his son's birth-day feast there came unto the king some five and fifty chosen men, schooled in the star-lore of the chaldaeans. these the king called into his presence, and asked them, severally, to tell him the future of the new-born babe. after long counsel held, they said that he should be mighty in riches and power, and should surpass all that had reigned before him. but one of the astrologers, the most learned of all his fellows, spake thus: "from that which i learn from the courses of the stars, o king, the advancement of the child, now born unto thee, will not be in thy kingdom, but in another, a better and a greater one beyond compare. methinketh also that he will embrace the christian religion, which thou persecutest, and i trow that he will not be disappointed of his aim and hope." thus spake the astrologer, like balaam of old, not that his star-lore told him true, but because god signifieth the truth by the mouth of his enemies, that all excuse may be taken from the ungodly. but when the king heard thereof, he received the tidings with a heavy heart, and sorrow cut short his joy. howsoever he built, in a city set apart, an exceeding beautiful palace, with cunningly devised gorgeous chambers, and there set his son to dwell, after he had ended his first infancy; and he forbade any to approach him, appointing, for instructors and servants, youths right seemly to behold. these he charged to reveal to him none of the annoys of life, neither death, nor old age, nor disease, nor poverty, nor anything else grievous that might break his happiness: but to place before him everything pleasant and enjoyable, that his heart, revelling in these delights, might not gain strength to consider the future, nor ever hear the bare mention of the tale of christ and his doctrines. for he was heedful of the astrologer's warning, and it was this most that he was minded to conceal from his son. and if any of the attendants chanced to fall sick, he commanded to have him speedily removed, and put another plump and well-favoured servant in his place, that the boy's eyes might never once behold anything to disquiet them. such then was the intent and doing of the king, for, 'seeing, he did not see, and hearing, he did not understand.' but, learning that some monks still remained, of whom he fondly imagined that not a trace was left, he became angry above measure, and his fury was hotly kindled against them. and he commanded heralds to scour all the city and all the country, proclaiming that after three days no monk whatsoever should be found therein. but and if any were discovered after the set time, they should be delivered to destruction by fire and sword. "for," said he, "these be they that persuade the people to worship the crucified as god." meanwhile a thing befell, that made the king still more angry and bitter against the monks. iv. there was at court a man pre-eminent among the rulers, of virtuous life and devout in religion. but while working out his own salvation, as best he might, he kept it secret for fear of the king. wherefore certain men, looking enviously on his free converse with the king, studied how they might slander him; and this was all their thought. on a day, when the king went forth a-hunting with his bodyguard, as was his wont, this good man was of the hunting party. while he was walking alone, by divine providence, as i believe, he found a man in a covert, cast to the ground, his foot grievously crushed by a wild-beast. seeing him passing by, the wounded man importuned him not to go his way, but to pity his misfortune, and take him to his own home, adding thereto: "i hope that i shall not be found unprofitable, nor altogether useless unto thee." our nobleman said unto him, "for very charity i will take thee up, and render thee such service as i may. but what is this profit which thou saidest that i should receive of thee?" the poor sick man answered, "i am a physician of words. if ever in speech or converse any wound or damage be found, i will heal it with befitting medicines, that so the evil spread no further." the devout man gave no heed to his word, but on account of the commandment, ordered him to be carried home, and grudged him not that tending which he required. but the aforesaid envious and malignant persons, bringing forth to light that ungodliness with which they had long been in travail, slandered this good man to the king; that not only did he forget his friendship with the king, and neglect the worship of the gods, and incline to christianity, but more, that he was grievously intriguing against the kingly power, and was turning aside the common people, and stealing all hearts for himself. "but," said they, "if thou wilt prove that our charge is not ungrounded, call him to thee privately; and, to try him, say that thou desirest to leave thy fathers' religion, and the glory of thy kingship, and to become a christian, and to put on the monkish habit which formerly thou didst persecute, having, thou shalt tell him, found thine old course evil." the authors of this villainous charge against the christian knew the tenderness of his heart, how that, if he heard such speech from the king, he would advise him, who had made this better choice, not to put off his good determinations, and so they would be found just accusers. but the king, not forgetful of his friend's great kindness toward him, thought these accusations incredible and false; and because he might not accept them without proof, he resolved to try the fact and the charge. so he called the man apart and said, to prove him, "friend, thou knowest of all my past dealings with them that are called monks and with all the christians. but now, i have repented in this matter, and, lightly esteeming the present world, would fain become partaker of those hopes whereof i have heard them speak, of some immortal kingdom in the life to come; for the present is of a surety cut short by death. and in none other way, methinks, can i succeed herein and not miss the mark except i become a christian, and, bidding farewell to the glory of my kingdom and all the pleasures and joys of life, go seek those hermits and monks, wheresoever they be, whom i have banished, and join myself to their number. now what sayest thou thereto, and what is thine advice? say on; i adjure thee in the name of truth; for i know thee to be true and wise above all men." the worthy man, hearing this, but never guessing the hidden pitfall, was pricked in spirit, and, melting into tears, answered in his simplicity, "o king, live for ever! good and sound is the determination that thou hast determined; for though the kingdom of heaven be difficult to find, yet must a man seek it with all his might, for it is written, 'he that seeketh shall find it.' the enjoyment of the present life, though in seeming it give delight and sweetness, is well thrust from us. at the very moment of its being it ceaseth to be, and for our joy repayeth us with sorrow sevenfold. its happiness and its sorrow are more frail than a shadow, and, like the traces of a ship passing over the sea, or of a bird flying through the air, quickly disappear. but the hope of the life to come which the christians preach is certain, and as surety sure; howbeit in this world it hath tribulation, whereas our pleasures now are short-lived, and in the beyond they only win us correction and everlasting punishment without release. for the pleasures of such life are temporary, but its pains eternal; while the christians' labours are temporary, but their pleasure and gain immortal. therefore well befall this good determination of the king! for right good it is to exchange the corruptible for the eternal." the king heard these words and waxed exceeding wroth: nevertheless he restrained his anger, and for the season let no word fall. but the other, being shrewd and quick of wit, perceived that the king took his word ill, and was craftily sounding him. so, on his coming home, he fell into much grief and distress in his perplexity how to conciliate the king and to escape the peril hanging over his own head. but as he lay awake all the night long, there came to his remembrance the man with the crushed foot; so he had him brought before him, and said, "i remember thy saying that thou weft an healer of injured speech." "yea," quoth he, "and if thou wilt i will give thee proof of my skill." the senator answered and told him of his aforetime friendship with the king, and of the confidence which he had enjoyed, and of the snare laid for him in his late converse with the king; how he had given a good answer, but the king had taken his words amiss, and by his change of countenance betrayed the anger lurking within his heart. the sick beggar-man considered and said, "be it known unto thee, most noble sir, that the king harboureth against thee the suspicion, that thou wouldest usurp his kingdom, and he spake, as he spake, to sound thee. arise therefore, and crop thy hair. doff these thy fine garments, and don an hair-shirt, and at daybreak present thyself before the king. and when he asketh thee, 'what meaneth this apparel?' answer him, 'it hath to do with thy communing with me yesterday, o king. behold, i am ready to follow thee along the road that thou art eager to travel; for though luxury be desirable and passing sweet, god forbid that i embrace it after thou art gone! though the path of virtue, which thou art about to tread, be difficult and rough, yet in thy company i shall find it easy and pleasant, for as i have shared with thee this thy prosperity so now will i share thy distresses, that in the future, as in the past, i may be thy fellow.'" our nobleman, approving of the sick man's saying, did as he said. when the king saw and heard him, he was delighted, and beyond measure gratified by his devotion towards him. he saw that the accusations against his senator were false, and promoted him to more honour and to a greater enjoyment of his confidence. but against the monks he again raged above measure, declaring that this was of their teaching, that men should abstain from the pleasures of life, and rock themselves in visionary hopes. another day, when he was gone a-hunting, he espied two monks crossing the desert. these he ordered to be apprehended and brought to his chariot. looking angrily upon them, and breathing fire, as they say, "ye vagabonds and deceivers," he cried, "have ye not heard the plain proclamation of the heralds, that if any of your execrable religion were found, after three days, in any city or country within my realm, he should be burned with fire?" the monks answered, "lo! obedient to thine order, we be coming out of thy cities and coasts. but as the journey before us is long, to get us away to our brethren, being in want of victuals, we were making provision for the way, that we perish not with hunger." said the king, "he that dreadeth menace of death busieth not himself with the purveyante of victuals." "well spoken, o king," cried the monks. "they that dread death have concern how to escape it. and who are these but such as cling to things temporary and are enamoured of them, who, having no good hopes yonder, find it hard to be wrenched from this present world, and therefore dread death? but we, who have long since hated the world and the things of the world, and are walking along the narrow and strait road, for christ his sake, neither dread death, nor desire the present world, but only long for the world to come. therefore, forasmuch the death that thou art bringing upon us proveth but the passage to that everlasting and better life, it is rather to be desired of us than feared." hereupon the king, wishing to entrap the monks, as i ween, shrewdly said, "how now? said ye not but this instant, that ye were withdrawing even as i commanded you? and, if ye fear not death, how came ye to be fleeing? lo! this is but another of your idle boasts and lies." the monks answered, "tis not because we dread the death wherewith thou dost threaten us that we flee, but because we pity thee. 'twas in order that we might not bring on thee greater condemnation, that we were eager to escape. else for ourselves we are never a whit terrified by thy threats." at this the king waxed wroth and bade burn them with fire. so by fire were these servants of god made perfect, and received the martyr's crown. and the king published a decree that, should any be found leading a monk's life, he should be put to death without trial. thus was there left in that country none of the monastic order, save those that had hid them in mountains and caverns and holes of the earth. so much then concerning this matter. v. but meanwhile, the king's son, of whom our tale began to tell, never departing from the palace prepared for him, attained to the age of manhood. he had pursued all the learning of the ethiopians and persians, and was as fair and well favoured in mind as in body, intelligent and prudent, and shining in all excellencies. to his teachers he would propound such questions of natural history that even they marvelled at the boy's quickness and understanding, while the king was astounded at the charm of his countenance and the disposition of his soul. he charged the attendants of the young prince on no account to make known unto him any of the annoys of life, least of all to tell him that death ensueth on the pleasures of this world. but vain was the hope whereon he stayed, and he was like the archer in the tale that would shoot at the sky. for how could death have remained unknown to any human creature? nor did it to this boy; for his mind was fertile of wit, and he would reason within himself, why his father had condemned him never to go abroad, and had forbidden access to all. he knew, without hearing it, that this was his father's express command. nevertheless he feared to ask him; it was not to be believed that his father intended aught but his good; and again, if it were so by his father's will, his father would not reveal the true reason, for all his asking. wherefore he determined to learn the secret from some other source. there was one of his tutors nearer and dearer to him than the rest, whose devotion he won even further by handsome gifts. to him he put the question what his father might mean by thus enclosing him within those walls, adding, "if thou wilt plainly tell me this, of all thou shalt stand first in my favour, and i will make with thee a covenant of everlasting friendship." the tutor, himself a prudent man, knowing how bright and mature was the boy's wit and that he would not betray him, to his peril, discovered to him the whole matter the persecution of the christians and especially of the anchorets decreed by the king, and how they were driven forth and banished from the country round about; also the prophecies of the astrologers at his birth. "'twas in order," said he, "that thou mightest never hear of their teaching, and choose it before our religion, that the king hath thus devised that none but a small company should dwell with thee, and hath commanded us to acquaint thee with none of the woes of life." when the young prince heard this he said never a word more, but the word of salvation took hold of his heart, and the grace of the comforter began to open wide the eyes of his understanding, leading him by the hand to the true god, as our tale in its course shall tell. now the king his father came oftentimes to see his boy, for he loved him passing well. on a day his son said unto him, "there is something that i long to learn from thee, my lord the king, by reason of which continual grief and unceasing care consumeth my soul." his father was grieved at heart at the very word, and said, "tell me, darling child, what is the sadness that constraineth thee, and straightway i will do my diligence to turn it into gladness." the boy said, "what is the reason of mine imprisonment here? wily hast thou barred me within walls and doors, never going forth and seen of none?" his father replied, "because i will not, my son, that thou shouldest behold anything to embitter thy heart or mar thy happiness. i intend that thou shalt spend all thy days in luxury unbroken, and in all manner joy and pleasaunce." "but," said the son unto his father, "know well, sir, that thus i live not in joy and pleasaunce, but rather in affliction and great straits, so that my very meat and drink seem distasteful unto me and bitter. i yearn to see all that lieth without these gates. if then thou wouldest not have me live in anguish of mind, bid me go abroad as i desire, and let me rejoice my soul with sights hitherto unseen by mine eyes." grieved was the king to hear these words, but, perceiving that to deny this request would but increase his boy's pain and grief, he answered, "my son, i will grant thee thy heart's desire." and immediately he ordered that choice steeds, and an escort fit for a king, be made ready, and gave him license to go abroad whensoever he would, charging his companions to suffer nothing unpleasant to come in his way, but to show him all that was beautiful and gladsome. he bade them muster in the way troops of folk intuning melodies in every mode, and presenting divers mimic shows, that these might occupy and delight his mind. so thus it came to pass that the king's son often went abroad. one day, through the negligence of his attendants, he descried two men, the one maimed, and the other blind. in abhorrence of the sight, he cried to his esquires, "who are these, and what is this distressing spectacle?" they, unable to conceal what he had with his own eyes seen, answered, "these be human sufferings, which spring from corrupt matter, and from a body full of evil humours." the young prince asked, "are these the fortune of all men?" they answered, "not of all, but of those in whom the principle of health is turned away by the badness of the humours." again the youth asked, "if then this is wont to happen not to all, but only to some, can they be known on whom this terrible calamity shall fall? or is it undefined and unforeseeable?" "what man," said they, "can discern the future, and accurately ascertain it? this is beyond human nature, and is reserved for the immortal gods alone." the young prince ceased from his questioning, but his heart was grieved at the sight that he had witnessed, and the form of his visage was changed by the strangeness of the matter. not many days after, as he was again taking his walks abroad, he happened with an old man, well stricken in years, shrivelled in countenance, feeble-kneed, bent double, grey-haired, toothless, and with broken utterance. the prince was seized with astonishment, and, calling the old man near, desired to know the meaning of this strange sight. his companions answered, "this man is now well advanced in years, and his gradual decrease of strength, with increase of weakness, hath brought him to the misery that thou seest." "and," said he, "what will be his end?" they answered, "naught but death will relieve him." "but," said he, "is this the appointed doom of all mankind? or doth it happen only to some?" they answered, "unless death come before hand to remove him, no dweller on earth, but, as life advanceth, must make trial of this lot." then the young prince asked in how many years this overtook a man, and whether the doom of death was without reprieve, and whether there was no way to escape it, and avoid coming to such misery. they answered him, "in eighty or an hundred years men arrive at this old age, and then they die, since there is none other way; for death is a debt due to nature, laid on man from the beginning, and its approach is inexorable." when our wise and sagacious young prince saw and heard all this, he sighed from the bottom of his heart. "bitter is this life," cried he, "and fulfilled of all pain and anguish, if this be so. and how can a body be careless in the expectation of an unknown death, whose approach (ye say) is as uncertain as it is inexorable?" so he went away, restlessly turning over all these things in his mind, pondering without end, and ever calling up remembrances of death. wherefore trouble and despondency were his companions, and his grief knew no ease; for he said to himself, "and is it true that death shall one day overtake me? and who is he that shall make mention of me after death, when time delivereth all things to forgetfulness? when dead, shall i dissolve into nothingness? or is there life beyond, and another world?" ever fretting over these and the like considerations, he waxed pale and wasted away, but in the presence of his father, whenever he chanced to come to him, he made as though he were cheerful and without trouble, unwilling that his cares should come to his father's knowledge. but he longed with an unrestrainable yearning, to meet with the man that might accomplish his heart's desire, and fill his ears with the sound of good tidings. again he enquired of the tutor of whom we have spoken, whether he knew of anybody able to help him towards his desire, and to establish a mind, dazed and shuddering at its cogitations, and unable to throw off its burden. he, recollecting their former communications, said, "i have told thee already how thy father hath dealt with the wise men and anchorets who spend their lives in such philosophies. some hath he slain, and others he hath wrathfully persecuted, and i wot not whether any of this sort be in this country side." thereat the prince was overwhelmed with woe, and grievously wounded in spirit. he was like unto a man that hath lost a great treasure, whose whole heart is occupied in seeking after it. thenceforth he lived in perpetual conflict and distress of mind, and all the pleasures and delights of this world were in his eyes an abomination and a curse. while the youth was in this way, and his soul was crying out to discover that which is good, the eye that beholdeth all things looked upon him, and he that willeth that 'all men should be saved, and come to the knowledge of the truth,' passed him not by, but showed this man also the tender love that he hath toward mankind, and made known upon him the path whereon he needs must go. befel it thus. vi. there was at that time a certain monk, learned in heavenly things, graced in word and deed, a model follower of every monastic rule. whence he sprang, and what his race, i cannot say, but he dwelt in a waste howling wilderness in the land of senaar, and had been perfected through the grace of the priesthood. barlaam was this elder's name. he, learning by divine revelation the state of the king's son, left the desert and returned to the world. changing his habit, he put on lay attire, and, embarking on ship board, arrived at the seat of the empire of the indians. disguised as a merchant man, he entered the city, where was the palace of the king's son. there he tarried many days, and enquired diligently concerning the prince's affairs, and those that had access to him. learning that the tutor, of whom we have spoken, was the prince's most familiar friend, he privily approached him, saying, "i would have thee understand, my lord, that i am a merchant man, come from a far country; and i possess a precious gem, the like of which was never yet found, and hitherto i have shewed it to no man. but now i reveal the secret to thee, seeing thee to be wise and prudent, that thou mayest bring me before the king's son, and i will present it to him. beyond compare, it surpasseth all beautiful things; for on the blind in heart it hath virtue to bestow the light of wisdom, to open the ears of the deaf, to give speech to the dumb and strength to the ailing. it maketh the foolish wise and driveth away devils, and without stint furnisheth its possessor with everything that is lovely and desirable." the tutor said, "though, to all seeming, thou art a man of staid and steadfast judgment, yet thy words prove thee to be boastful beyond measure. time would fail me to tell thee the full tale of the costly and precious gems and pearls that i have seen. but gems, with such power as thou tellest of, i never saw nor heard of yet. nevertheless shew me the stone; and if it be as thou affirmest, i immediately bear it to the king's son, from whom thou shalt receive most high honours and rewards. but, before i be assured by the certain witness of mine own eyes, i may not carry to my lord and master so swollen a tale about so doubtful a thing." quoth barlaam, "well hast thou said that thou hast never seen or heard of such powers and virtues; for my speech to thee is on no ordinary matter, but on a wondrous and a great. but, as thou desiredst to behold it, listen to my words. "this exceeding precious gem, amongst these its powers and virtues, possesseth this property besides. it cannot be seen out of hand, save by one whose eyesight is strong and sound, and his body pure and thoroughly undefiled. if any man, lacking in these two good qualities, do rashly gaze upon this precious stone, he shall, i suppose lose even the eyesight that he hath, and his wits as well. now i, that am initiated in the physician's art, observe that thine eyes are not healthy, and i fear lest i may cause thee to lose even the eyesight that thou hast. but of the king's son, i have heard that he leadeth a sober life, and that his eyes are young and fair, and healthy. wherefore to him i make bold to display this treasure. be not thou then negligent herein, nor rob thy master of so wondrous a boon." the other answered, "if this be so, in no wise show me the gem; for my life hath been polluted by many sins, and also, as thou sayest, i am not possest of good eyesight. but i am won by thy words, and will not hesitate to make known these things unto my lord the prince." so saying, he went in, and, word by word, reported everything to the king's son. he, hearing his tutor's words, felt a strange joy and spiritual gladness breathing into his heart, and, like one inspired, bade bring in the man forthwith. so when barlaam was come in, and had in due order wished him peace!, the prince bade him be seated. then his tutor withdrew, and ioasaph said unto the elder, "shew me the precious gem, concerning which, as my tutor hath narrated, thou tellest such great and marvellous tales." then began barlaam to discourse with him thus: "it is not fitting, o prince, that i should say anything falsely or unadvisedly to thine excellent majesty. all that hath been signified to thee from me is true and may not be gainsaid. but, except i first make trial of thy mind, it is not lawful to declare to thee this mystery; for my master saith, 'there went out a sower to sow his seed: and, as he sowed, some seeds fell by the wayside, and the fowls of the air came and devoured them up: some fell upon stony places, where they had not much earth: and forthwith they sprang up, because they had no deepness of earth: and when the sun was up, they were scorched: and because they had no root, they withered away. and some fell among thorns; and the thorns sprung up and choked them: but others fell upon good ground, and brought forth fruit an hundredfold.' now, if i find in thine heart fruit-bearing ground, and good, i shall not be slow to plant therein the heavenly seed, and manifest to thee the mighty mystery. but and if the ground be stony and thorny, and the wayside trodden down by all who will, it were better never to let fall this seed of salvation, nor to cast it for a prey to fowls and beasts, before which i have been charged not to cast pearls. but i am 'persuaded better things of thee, and things that accompany salvation,'--how that thou shalt see the priceless stone, and it shall be given thee in the light of that stone to become light, and bring forth fruit an hundredfold. aye, for thy sake i gave diligence and accomplished a long journey, to shew thee things which thou hast never seen, and teach thee things which thou hast never heard." ioasaph said unto him, "for myself, reverend elder, i have a longing, all irresistible passion to hear some new and goodly word, and in mine heart there is kindled fire, cruelly burning and urging me to learn the answer to some questions that will not rest. but until now i never happened on one that could satisfy me as touching them. but if i meet with some wise and understanding man, and hear the word of salvation, i shall not deliver it to the fowls of the air, i trow, nor yet to the beasts of the field; nor shall i be found either stony or thorny-hearted, as thou saidest, but i shall receive the word kindly, and guard it wisely. so if thou knowest any such like thing, conceal it not from me, but declare it. when i heard that thou were come from a far country, my spirit rejoiced, and i had good hope of obtaining through thee that which i desire. wherefore i called thee straightway into my presence, and received thee in friendly wise as one of my companions and peers, if so be that i may not be disappointed of my hope." barlaam answered, "fair are thy deeds, and worthy of thy royal majesty; seeing that thou hast paid no heed to my mean show, but hast devoted thyself to the hope that lieth within. "there was once a great and famous king: and it came to pass, when he was riding on a day in his golden chariot, with his royal guard, that there met him two men, clad in filthy rags, with fallen-in faces, and pale as death. now the king knew that it was by buffetings of the body and by the sweats of the monastic life that they had thus wasted their miserable flesh. so, seeing them, he leapt anon from his chariot, fell on the ground, and did obeisance. then rising, he embraced and greeted them tenderly. but his noblemen and counsellors took offence thereat, deeming that their sovran had disgraced his kingly honour. but not daring to reprove him to the face, they bade the king's own brother tell the king not thus to insult the majesty of his crown. when he had told the king thereof, and had upbraided him for his untimely humility, the king gave his brother an answer which he failed to understand. "it was the custom of that king, whenever he sentenced anyone to death, to send a herald to his door, with a trumpet reserved for that purpose, and at the sound of this trumpet all understood that that man was liable to the penalty of death. so when evening was come, the king sent the death-trumpet to sound at his brother's door; who, when he heard its blast, despaired of his life, and all night long set his house in order. at day-break, robed in black and garments of mourning, with wife and children, he went to the palace gate, weeping and lamenting. the king fetched him in, and seeing him in tears, said, 'o fool, and slow of understanding, how didst thou, who hast had such dread of the herald of thy peer and brother (against whom thy conscience doth not accuse thee of having committed any trespass) blame me for my humility in greeting the heralds of my god, when they warned me, in gentler tones than those of the trumpet, of my death and fearful meeting with that master against whom i know that i have often grievously offended? lo! then, it was in reproof of thy folly that i played thee this turn, even as i will shortly convict of vanity those that prompted thy reproof.' thus he comforted his brother and sent him home with a gift. "then he ordered four wooden caskets to be made. two of these he covered over all with gold, and, placing dead men's mouldering bones therein, secured them with golden clasps. the other two he smeared over with pitch and tar, but filled them with costly stones and precious pearls, and all manner of aromatic sweet perfume. he bound them fast with cords of hair, and called for the noblemen who had blamed him for his manner of accosting the men by the wayside. before them he set the four caskets, that they might appraise the value of these and those. they decided that the golden ones were of greatest value, for, peradventure, they contained kingly diadems and girdles. but those, that were be-smeared with pitch and tar, were cheap and of paltry worth, said they. then said the king to them, 'i know that such is your answer, for with the eyes of sense ye judge the objects of sense, but so ought ye not to do, but ye should rather see with the inner eye the hidden worthlessness or value.' whereupon he ordered the golden chests to be opened. and when they were thrown open, they gave out a loathsome smell and presented a hideous sight. "said the king, 'here is a figure of those who are clothed in glory and honour, and make great display of power and glory, but within is the stink of dead men's bones and works of iniquity.' next, he commanded the pitched and tarred caskets also to be opened, and delighted the company with the beauty and sweet savour of their stores. and he said unto them, 'know ye to whom these are like? they are like those lowly men, clad in vile apparel, whose outward form alone ye beheld, and deemed it outrageous that i bowed down to do them obeisance. but through the eyes of my mind i perceived the value and exceeding beauty of their souls, and was glorified by their touch, and i counted them more honourable than any chaplet or royal purple.' thus he shamed his courtiers, and taught them not to be deceived by outward appearances, but to give heed to the things of the soul. after the example of that devout and wise king hast thou also done, in that thou hast received me in good hope, wherein, as i ween, thou shalt not be disappointed." ioasaph said unto him, "fair and fitting hath been all thy speech; but now i fain would learn who is thy master, who, as thou saidest at the first, spake concerning the sower." vii. again therefore barlaam took up his parable and said, "if thou wilt learn who is my master, it is jesus christ the lord, the only-begotten son of god, 'the blessed and only potentate, the king of kings, and lords of lords; who only hath immortality, dwelling in the light which no man can approach unto'; who with the father and the holy ghost is glorified. i am not one of those who proclaim from the house-top their wild rout of gods, and worship lifeless and dumb idols, but one god do i acknowledge and confess, in three persons glorified, the father, the son, and the holy ghost, but in one nature and substance, in one glory and kingdom undivided. he then is in three persons one god, without beginning, and without end, eternal and everlasting, increate, immutable and incorporeal, invisible, infinite, incomprehensible, alone good and righteous, who created all things out of nothing, whether visible or invisible. first, he made the heavenly and invisible powers, countless multitudes, immaterial and bodiless, ministering spirits of the majesty of god. afterward he created this visible world, heaven and earth and sea, which also he made glorious with light and richly adorned it; the heavens with the sun, moon and stars, and the earth with all manner of herbs and divers living beasts, and the sea in turn with all kinds of fishes. 'he spake the word and these all were made; he commanded and they were created.' then with his own hands he created man, taking dust of the ground for the fashioning of his body, but by his own in-breathing giving him a reasonable and intelligent soul, which, as it is written, was made after the image and likeness of god: after his image, because of reason and free will; after his likeness, because of the likeness of virtue, in its degree, to god. him he endowed with free will and immortality and appointed sovran over everything upon earth; and from man he made woman, to be an helpmeet of like nature for him. "and he planted a garden eastward in eden, full of delight and all heart's ease, and set thereto the man whom he had formed, and commanded him freely to eat of all the heavenly trees therein, but forbade him wholly the taste of a certain one which was called the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, thus saying, 'in the day that ye eat thereof ye shall surely die.' but one of the aforesaid angel powers, the marshall of one host, though he bore in himself no trace of natural evil from his maker's hand but had been created for good, yet by his own free and deliberate choice turned aside from good to evil, and was stirred up by madness to the desire to take up arms against his lord god. wherefore he was cast out of his rank and dignity, and in the stead of his former blissful glory and angelick name received the name of the 'devil' and 'satan' for his title. god banished him as unworthy of the glory above. and together with him there was drawn away and hurled forth a great multitude of the company of angels under him, who were evil of choice, and chose in place of good, to follow in the rebellion of their leader. these were called devils, as being deluders and deceivers. "thus then did the devil utterly renounce the good, and assume an evil nature; and he conceived spite against man, seeing himself hurled from such glory, and man raised to such honour; and he schemed to oust him from that blissful state. so he took the serpent for the workshop of his own guile. through him he conversed with the woman, and persuaded her to eat of that forbidden tree in the hope of being as god, and through her he deceived adam also, for that was the first man's name. so adam ate of the tree of disobedience, and was banished by his maker from that paradise of delight, and, in lieu of those happy days and that immortal life, fell alas! into this life of misery and woe, and at the last received sentence of death. thenceforth the devil waxed strong and boastful through his victory; and, as the race of man multiplied, he prompted them in all manner of wickedness. so, wishing to cut short the growth of sin, god brought a deluge on the earth, and destroyed every living soul. but one single righteous man did god find in that generation; and him, with wife and children, he saved alive in an ark, and set him utterly desolate on earth. but, when the human race again began to multiply, they forgat god, and ran into worse excess of wickedness, being in subjection to divers sins and ruined in strange delusions, and wandering apart into many branches of error. "some deemed that everything moved by mere chance, and taught that there was no providence, since there was no master to govern. others brought in fate, and committed everything to the stars at birth. others worshipped many evil deities subject to many passions, to the end that they might have them to advocate their own passions and shameful deeds, whose forms they moulded, and whose dumb figures and senseless idols they set up, and enclosed them in temples, and did homage to them, 'serving the creature more than the creator.' some worshipped the sun, moon and stars which god fixed, for to give light to our earthly sphere; things without soul or sense, enlightened and sustained by the providence of god, but unable to accomplish anything of themselves. others again worshipped fire and water, and the other elements, things without soul or sense; and men, possest of soul and reason, were not ashamed to worship the like of these. others assigned worship to beasts, creeping and four-footed things, proving themselves more beastly than the things that they worshipped. others made them images of vile and worthless men, and named them gods, some of whom they called males, and some females, and they themselves set them forth as adulterers, murderers, victims of anger, jealousy, wrath, slayers of fathers, slayers of brothers, thieves and robbers, lame and maim, sorcerers and madmen. others they showed dead, struck by thunderbolts, or beating their breasts, or being mourned over, or in enslavement to mankind, or exiled, or, for foul and shameful unions, taking the forms of animals. whence men, taking occasion by the gods themselves, took heart to pollute themselves in all manner of uncleanness. so an horrible darkness overspread our race in those times, and 'there was none that did understand and seek after god.' "now in that generation one abraham alone was found strong in his spiritual senses; and by contemplation of creation he recognized the creator. when he considered heaven, earth and sea, the sun, moon and the like, he marvelled at their harmonious ordering. seeing the world, and all that therein is, he could not believe that it had been created, and was upheld, by its own power, nor did he ascribe such a fair ordering to earthly elements or lifeless idols. but therein he recognized the true god, and understood him to be the maker and sustainer of the whole. and god, approving his fair wisdom and right judgement, manifested himself unto him, not as he essentially is (for it is impossible for a created being to see god), but by certain manifestations in material forms, as he alone can, and he planted in abraham more perfect knowledge; he magnified him and made him his own servant. which abraham in turn handed down to his children his own righteousness, and taught them to know the true god. wherefore also the lord was pleased to multiply his seed beyond measure, and called them 'a peculiar people,' and brought them forth out of bondage to the egyptian nation, and to one pharaoh a tyrant, by strange and terrible signs and wonders wrought by the hand of moses and aaron, holy men, honoured with the gift of prophecy; by whom also he punished the egyptians in fashion worthy of their wickedness, and led the israelites (for thus the people descended from abraham were called) through the red sea upon dry land, the waters dividing and making a wall on the right hand and a wall on the left. but when pharaoh and the egyptians pursued and went in after them, the waters returned and utterly destroyed them. then with exceeding mighty miracles and divine manifestations by the space of forty years he led the people in the wilderness, and fed them with bread from heaven, and gave the law divinely written on tables of stone, which he delivered unto moses on the mount, 'a type and shadow of things to come' leading men away from idols and all manner of wickedness, and teaching them to worship only the one true god, and to cleave to good works. by such wondrous deeds, he brought them into a certain goodly land, the which he had promised aforetime to abraham the patriarch, that he would give it unto his seed. and the task were long, to tell of all the mighty and marvellous works full of glory and wonder, without number, which he shewed unto them, by which it was his purpose to pluck the human race from all unlawful worship and practice, and to bring men back to their first estate. but even so our nature was in bondage by its freedom to err, and death had dominion over mankind, delivering all to the tyranny of the devil, and to the damnation of hell. "so when we had sunk to this depth of misfortune and misery, we were not forgotten by him that formed and brought us out of nothing into being, nor did he suffer his own handiwork utterly to perish. by the good pleasure of our god and father, and the co-operation of the holy ghost, the only-begotten son, even the word of god, which is in the bosom of the father, being of one substance with the father and with the holy ghost, he that was before all worlds, without beginning, who was in the beginning, and was with god even the father, and was god, he, i say, condescended toward his servants with an unspeakable and incomprehensible condescension; and, being perfect god, was made perfect man, of the holy ghost, and of mary the holy virgin and mother of god, not of the seed of man, nor of the will of man, nor by carnal union, being conceived in the virgin's undefiled womb, of the holy ghost; as also, before his conception, one of the archangels was sent to announce to the virgin that miraculous conception and ineffable birth. for without seed was the son of god conceived of the holy ghost, and in the virgin's womb he formed for himself a fleshy body, animate with a reasonable and intelligent soul, and thence came forth in one substance, but in two natures, perfect god and perfect man, and preserved undefiled, even after birth, the virginity of her that bore him. he, being made of like passions with ourselves in all things, yet without sin, took our infirmities and bare our sicknesses. for, since by sin death entered into the world, need was that he, that should redeem the world, should be without sin, and not by sin subject unto death. "when he had lived thirty years among men, he was baptized in the river jordan by john, an holy man, and great above all the prophets. and when he was baptized there came a voice from heaven, from god, even the father, saying, 'this is my beloved son, in whom i am well pleased,' and the holy ghost descended upon him in likeness of a dove. from that time forth he began to do great signs and wonders, raising the dead, giving sight to the blind, casting out devils, healing the lame and maim, cleansing lepers, and everywhere renewing our out-worn nature, instructing men both by word and deed, and teaching the way of virtue, turning men from destruction and guiding their feet toward life eternal. wherefore also he chose twelve disciples, whom he called apostles, and commanded them to preach the kingdom of heaven which he came upon earth to declare, and to make heavenly us who are low and earthly, by virtue of his incarnation. "but, through envy of his marvellous and divine conversation and endless miracles, the chief priests and rulers of the jews (amongst whom also he dwelt, on whom he had wrought his aforesaid signs and miracles), in their madness forgetting all, condemned him to death, having seized one of the twelve to betray him. and, when they had taken him, they delivered him to the gentiles, him that was the life of the world, he of his free will consenting thereto; for he came for our sakes to suffer all things, that he might free us from sufferings. but when they had done him much despite, at the last they condemned him to the cross. all this he endured in the nature of that flesh which he took from us, his divine nature remaining free of suffering: for, being of two natures, both the divine and that which he took from us, his human nature suffered, while his godhead continued free from suffering and death. so our lord jesus christ, being without sin, was crucified in the flesh, for he did no sin, neither was guile found in his mouth; and he was not subject unto death, for by sin, as i have said before, came death into the world; but for our sakes he suffered death in the flesh, that he might redeem us from the tyranny of death. he descended into hell, and having harrowed it, he delivered thence souls that had been imprisoned therein for ages long. he was buried, and on the third day he rose again, vanquishing death and granting us the victory over death: and he, the giver of immortality, having made flesh immortal, was seen of his disciples, and bestowed upon them peace, and, through them, peace on the whole human race. "after forty days he ascended into heaven, and sitteth at the right hand of the father. and he shall come again to judge the quick and the dead, and to reward every man according to his works. after his glorious ascension into heaven he sent forth upon his disciples the holy ghost in likeness of fire, and they began to speak with other tongues as the spirit gave them utterance. from thence by his grace they were scattered abroad among all nations, and preached the true catholic faith, baptizing them in the name of the father, and of the son, and of the holy ghost, and teaching them to observe all the commandments of the saviour. so they gave light to the people that wandered in darkness, and abolished the superstitious error of idolatry. though the enemy chafeth under his defeat, and even now stirreth up war against us, the faithful, persuading the fools and unwise to cling to the worship of idols, yet is his power grown feeble, and his swords have at last failed him by the power of christ. lo, in few words i have made known unto thee my master, my god, and my saviour; but thou shalt know him more perfectly, if thou wilt receive his grace into thy soul, and gain the blessing to become his servant." viii. when the king's son had heard these words, there flashed a light upon his soul. rising from his seat in the fulness of his joy, he embraced barlaam, saying: "most honoured sir, methinks this might be that priceless stone which thou dost rightly keep secret, not displaying it to all that would see it, but only to these whose spiritual sense is strong. for lo, as these words dropped upon mine ear, sweetest light entered into my heart, and the heavy veil of sorrow, that hath now this long time enveloped my heart, was in an instant removed. tell me if my guess be true: or if thou knowest aught better than that which thou hast spoken, delay not to declare it to me." again, therefore, barlaam answered, "yea, my lord and prince, this is the mighty mystery which hath been hid from ages and generations, but in these last days hath been made known unto mankind; the manifestation whereof, by the grace of the holy ghost, was foretold by many prophets and righteous men, instructed at sundry times and in divers manners. in trumpet tones they proclaimed it, and all looked forward to the salvation that should be: this they desired to see, but saw it not. but this latest generation was counted worthy to receive salvation. wherefore he that believeth and is baptized shall be saved; but he that believeth not shall be damned." said ioasaph, "all that thou hast told me i believe without question, and him whom thou declarest i glorify as god. only make all plain to me, and teach me clearly what i must do. but especially go on to tell me what is that baptism which thou sayest that the faithful receive." the other answered him thus, "the root mid sure foundation of this holy and perfect christian faith is the grace of heavenly baptism, fraught with the cleansing from all original sins, and complete purification of all defilements of evil that come after. for thus the saviour commanded a man to be born again of water and of the spirit, and be restored to his first dignity, to wit, by supplication and by calling on the saving name, the holy spirit brooding on the water. we are baptized, then, according to the word of the lord, in the name of the father, and of the son, and of the holy ghost, and thus the grace of the holy ghost dwelleth in the soul of the baptized, illuminating and making it god-like and renewing that which was made after his own image and likeness. and for the time to come we cast away all the old works of wickedness, and we make covenant with god of a second life and begin a purer conversation, that we may also become fellow-heirs with them that are born again to incorruption and lay hold of everlasting salvation. but without baptism it is impossible to attain to that good hope, even though a man be more pious than piety itself. for thus spake god, the word, who was incarnate for the salvation of our race, 'verily i say unto you, except ye be born of water and of the spirit, ye shall in no wise enter into the kingdom of heaven.' wherefore before all things i require thee to receive faith within thy soul, and to draw near to baptism anon with hearty desire, and on no account to delay herein, for delay is parlous, because of the uncertainty of the appointed day of death." ioasaph said unto him, "and what is this good hope whereto thou sayest it is impossible without baptism to attain? and what this kingdom which thou callest the kingdom of heaven? and how cometh it that thou hast heard the words of god incarnate? and what is the uncertain day of death? for on this account much anxiety hath fallen on my heart, and consumeth my flesh in pain and grief, and fasteneth on my very bones. and shall we men, appointed to die, return to nothing, or is there some other life after our departure hence? these and kindred questions i have been longing to resolve." thus questioned he; and barlaam answered thus: "the good hope, whereof i spake, is that of the kingdom of heaven. but that kingdom is far beyond the utterance of mortal tongue; for the scripture saith, 'eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither have entered into the heart of man the things which god hath prepared for them that love him.' but when we have shuffled off this gross flesh, and attained to that blessedness, then will that master, which hath granted to us not to fail of this hope, teach and make known unto us the glory of those good things, whose glory passeth all understanding:--that light ineffable, that life that hath no ending, that converse with angels. for if it be granted us to hold communion with god, so far as is attainable to human nature, then shall we know all things from his lips which now we know not. this doth my initiation into the teaching of the divine scriptures teach me to be the real meaning of the kingdom of heaven; to approach the vision of the blessed and life-giving trinity, and to be illumined with his unapproachable light, and with clearer and purer sight, and with unveiled face, to behold as in a glass his unspeakable glory. but, if it be impossible to express in language that glory, that light, and those mysterious blessings, what marvel? for they had not been mighty and singular, if they had been comprehended by reason and expressed in words by us who are earthly, and corruptible, and clothed in this heavy garment of sinful flesh. holding then such knowledge in simple faith, believe thou undoubtingly, that these are no fictions; but by good works be urgent to lay hold on that immortal kingdom, to which when thou hast attained, thou shalt have perfect knowledge. "as touching thy question, how it is that we have heard the words of the incarnate god, know thou that we have been taught all that appertaineth to the divine incarnation by the holy gospels, for thus that holy book is called, because it telleth us, who are corruptible and earthly, the 'good spell' of immortality and incorruption, of life eternal, of the remission of sins, and of the kingdom of heaven. this book was written by the eyewitnesses and ministers of the word, and of these i have already said that our lord jesus christ chose them for disciples and apostles; and they delivered it unto us in writing, after the glorious ascension of our master into heaven, a record of his life on earth, his teachings and miracles, so far as it was possible to commit them to writing. for thus, toward the end of his volume, saith he that is the flower of the holy evangelists, 'and there are also many other things which jesus did, the which, if they should be written every one, i suppose that even the world itself could not contain the books that should be written.' "so in this heavenly gospel, written by the spirit of god, is recorded the history of his incarnation, his manifestation, his miracles and acts. afterward, it telleth of the innocent suffering which the lord endured for our sake, of his holy resurrection on the third day, his ascent into the heavens, and of his glorious and dreadful second coming; for the son of god shall come again on earth, with unspeakable glory, and with a multitude of the heavenly host to judge our race, and to reward every man according to his works. for, at the beginning, god created man out of earth, as i have already told thee, and breathed into him breath, which is called a reasonable and understanding soul. but since we were sentenced to death, we die all: and it is not possible for this cup to pass any man by. now death is the separation of the soul from the body. and that body which was formed out of earth, when severed from the soul, returneth to earth from whence also it was taken, and, decaying, perisheth; but the soul, being immortal, fareth whither her maker calleth, or rather to the place where she, while still in the body, hath prepared for herself lodgement. for as a man hath lived here, so shall he receive reward there. "then, after long seasons, christ our god shall come to judge the world in awful glory, beyond words to tell; and for fear of him the powers of heaven shall be shaken, and all the angel hosts stand beside him in dread. then, at the voice of the archangel, and at the trump of god, shall the dead arise and stand before his awful throne. now the resurrection is the re-uniting of soul and body. so that very body, which decayeth and perisheth, shall arise incorruptible. and concerning this, beware lest the reasoning of unbelief overtake thee; for it is not impossible for him, who at the beginning formed the body out of earth, when according to its maker's doom it hath returned to earth whence it was taken, to raise the same again. if thou wilt but consider how many things god hath made out of nothing, this proof shall suffice thee. he took earth and made man, though earth was not man before. how then did earth become man? and how was earth, that did not exist, produced? and what foundation hath it? and how were countless kind of things without reason, of seeds and plants, produced out of it! nay, now also consider the manner of our birth. is not a little seed thrown into the womb that receiveth it? whence then cometh such a marvellous fashioning of a living creature? "so for him, who hath made everything out of nothing, and still doth make, it is not impossible to raise deadened and corrupt bodies from the earth, that every man may be rewarded according to his works; for he saith, 'the present is the time for work, the future for recompense.' else, where were the justice of god, if there were no resurrection? many righteous men in this present life have suffered much ill-usage and torment, and have died violent deaths; and the impious and the law-breaker hath spent his days here in luxury and prosperity. but god, who is good and just, hath appointed a day of resurrection and inquisition, that each soul may receive her own body, and that the wicked, who received his good things here, may there be punished for his misdeeds, and that the good, who was here chastised for his misdeeds, may there inherit his bliss. for, saith the lord, 'they that are in the graves shall hear the voice of the son of god, and shall come forth; they that have done good unto the resurrection of life, and they that have done evil unto the resurrection of doom.' then also shall thrones be set, and the ancient of days and maker of all things shall sit as judge, and there shall be opened books with records of the deeds and words and thoughts of all of us, and a fiery stream shall issue, and all hidden things shall be revealed. there can no advocate, no persuasive words, no false excuse, no mightiness of riches, no pomp of rank, no lavishment of bribes, avail to pervert righteous judgement. for he, the uncorrupt and truthful judge, shall weigh everything in the balance of justice, every act, word and thought. and they that have done good shall go into life everlasting, into light unspeakable, rejoicing in the fellowship of the angels, to enjoy bliss ineffable, standing in purity before the holy trinity. but they that have done evil, and all the ungodly and sinners, shall go into everlasting punishment, which is called gehenna, and outer darkness, and the worm that dieth not, and the gnashing of teeth, and a thousand other names of punishment; which meaneth rather--bitterest of all,--alienation from god, the being cast away from the sweetness of his presence, the being deprived of that glory which baffleth description, the being made a spectacle unto the whole creation, and the being put to shame, and shame that hath no ending. for, after the passing of that terrible sentence, all things shall abide immutable and unchangeable. the blissful life of the righteous shall have no close, neither shall the misery and punishment of sinners find an end: because, after him, there is no higher judge, and no defence by after-works, no time for amendment, no other way for them that are punished, their vengeance being co-eternal with them. "seeing that this is so, what manner of persons ought we to be in all holy conversation and godliness, that we may be counted worthy to escape the wrath to come, and to be ranged on the right hand of the son of god? for this is the station of the righteous: but to sinners is allotted the station of misery on the left. then shall the lord call the righteous 'blessed,' and shall lead them into his everlasting kingdom. but, as for sinners, with anger and curse he will banish them from his serene and gentle countenance the bitterest and hardest lot of all and will send them away into everlasting punishment." ix. ioasaph said unto him, "great and marvellous, sir, are the things whereof thou tellest me, fearful and terrible, if indeed these things be so, and, if there be after death and dissolution into dust and ashes, a resurrection and re-birth, and rewards and punishments for the deeds done during life. but what is the proof thereof? and how have ye come to learn that which ye have not seen, that ye have so steadfastly and undoubtingly believed it? as for things that have already been done and made manifest in deed, though ye saw them not, yet have ye heard them from the writers of history. but, when it is of the future that ye preach tidings of such vast import, how have ye made your conviction on these matters sure?" quoth barlaam, "from the past i gain certainty about the future; for they that preached the gospel, without erring from the truth, but establishing their sayings by signs and wonders and divers miracles, themselves also spake of the future. so, as in the one case they taught us nothing amiss or false, but made all that they said and did to shine clearer than the sun, so also in the other matter they gave us true doctrine, even that which our lord and master jesus christ himself confirmed both by word and deed. 'verily,' he spake, 'i say unto you, the hour is coming in the which all that are in the graves shall hear the voice of the son of god and they that hear shall live:' and again, 'the hour cometh when the dead shall hear his voice, and shall come forth, they that have done good unto the resurrection of life, and they that have done evil unto the resurrection of damnation.' and again he said concerning the resurrection of the dead, 'have ye not read that which was spoken unto you by god, saying, i am the god of abraham, and the god of isaac, and the god of jacob. god is not the god of the dead but of the living.' 'for as the tares are gathered and burned in the fire, so shall it be in the end of this age. the son of god shall send forth his angels, and they shall gather all things that offend, and them which do iniquity, and shall cast them into the furnace of fire; there shall be wailing and gnashing of teeth. then shall the righteous shine forth as the sun in the kingdom of their father.' thus spake he and added this thereto, 'who hath ears to hear, let him hear.' "in such words and many more did the lord make manifest the resurrection of our bodies, and confirm his words in deed, by raising many that were dead. and, toward the end of his life upon earth, he called from the grave one lazarus his friend, that had already been four days dead and stank, and thus he restored the lifeless to life. moreover, the lord himself became the first-fruits of that resurrection which is final and no longer subject unto death, after he had in the flesh tasted of death; and on the third day he rose again, and became the first-born from the dead. for other men also were raised from the dead, but died once more, and might not yet attain to the likeness of the future true resurrection. but he alone was the leader of that resurrection, the first to be raised to the resurrection immortal. "this was the preaching also of them that from the beginning were eye-witnesses and ministers of the word; for thus saith blessed paul, whose calling was not of men, but from heaven, 'brethren, i declare unto you the gospel which i preached unto you. for i delivered unto you first of all that which i also received, how that christ died for our sins according to the scriptures. now if christ be preached that he rose from the dead, how say some among you that there is no resurrection of the dead? for if the dead rise not, then is not christ raised. and if christ be not raised, your faith is vain, ye are yet in your sins. if in this life only we have hope in christ, we are of all men most miserable. but now is christ risen from the dead and become the first-fruits of them that slept. for since by man came death, by man came also the resurrection of the dead. for as in adam all die, even so in christ shall all be made alive.' and after a little while, 'for this corruptible must put on incorruption, and this mortal must put on immortality. so when this corruptible shall have put on incorruption, and this mortal shall have put on immortality, then shall be brought to pass the saying that is written, death is swallowed up in victory. o death where is thy sting? o grave, where is thy victory?' for then the power of death is utterly annulled and destroyed, no longer working in us, but for the future there is given unto men immortality and incorruption for evermore. "beyond all question, therefore, there shall be a resurrection of the dead, and this we believe undoubtingly. moreover we know that there shall be rewards and punishments for the deeds done in our life-time, on the dreadful day of christ's coming, 'wherein the heavens shall be dissolved in fire and the elements shall melt with fervent heat,' as saith one of the inspired clerks of god; 'nevertheless we, according to his promise, look for new heavens and a new earth.' for that there shall be rewards and punishments for men's works, and that absolutely nothing, good or bad, shall be overlooked, but that there is reserved a requital for words, deeds and thoughts, is plain. the lord saith, 'whosoever shall give to drink unto one of these little ones a cup of cold water only, in the name of a disciple, he shall in no wise lose his reward.' and again he saith, 'when the son of man shall come in his glory, and all the holy angels with him, then before him shall be gathered all nations, and he shall separate them one from another, as a shepherd divideth his sheep from the goats. and he shall set the sheep on his right hand, but the goats on the left. then shall the king say unto them on his right hand, 'come ye blessed of my father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world. for i was anhungred, and ye gave me meat: i was thirsty, and ye gave me drink: i was a stranger, and ye took me in: naked, and ye clothed me: i was sick, and ye visited me: i was in prison, and ye came unto me.' wherefore saith he this, except he count the kind acts we do unto the needy as done unto himself? and in another place he saith, 'whosoever shall confess me before men, him will i also confess before my father which is in heaven.' "lo, by all these examples and many more he proveth that the rewards of good works are certain and sure. further, that punishments are in store for the bad, he foretold by parables strange and wonderful, which he, the well of wisdom most wisely put forth. at one time he brought into his tale a certain rich man which was clothed in purple and fine linen, and fared sumptuously every day, but who was so niggardly and pitiless toward the destitute as to overlook a certain beggar named lazarus laid at his gate, and not even to give him of the crumbs from his table. so when one and other were dead, the poor man, full of sores, was carried away, he saith, into abraham's bosom, for thus he describeth the habitation of the righteous--but the rich man was delivered to the fire of bitter torment in hell. to him said abraham, 'thou in thy lifetime receivedst thy good things, and likewise lazarus his evil things, but now he is comforted, and thou art tormented." "and otherwhere he likeneth the kingdom of heaven to a certain king which made a marriage-feast for his son and thereby he declared future happiness and splendour. for as he was wont to speak to humble and earthly minded men, he would draw his parables from homely and familiar things. not that he meant that marriages and feasts exist in that world; but in condescension to men's grossness, he employed these names when he would make known to them the future. so, as he telleth, the king with high proclamation called all to come to the marriage to take their fill of his wondrous store of good things. but many of them that were bidden made light of it and came not, and busied themselves: some went to their farms, some to their merchandize, and others to their newly wedded wives, and thus deprived themselves of the splendour of the bride chamber. now when these had, of their own choice, absented themselves from this joyous merriment, others were bidden thereto, and the wedding was furnished with guests. and when the king came in to see the guests, he saw there a man which had not on a wedding garment, and he said unto him, "friend, how camest thou in hither, not having a wedding garment?" and he was speechless. then said the king to the servants, "bind him hand and foot, and take him away, and cast him into outer darkness; there shall be weeping and gnashing of teeth.' now they who made excuses and paid no heed to the call are they that hasten not to the faith of christ, but continue in idolatry or heresy. but he that had no wedding garment is he that believeth, but hath soiled his spiritual garment with unclean acts, and was rightly cast forth from the joy of the bride chamber. "and he put forth yet another parable, in harmony with this, in his picture of the ten virgins, 'five of whom were wise, and five were foolish. they that were foolish took their lamps and took no oil with them, but the wise took oil.' by the oil he signifieth the acquiring of good works. 'and at midnight,' he saith, 'there was a cry made, "behold the bridegroom cometh, go ye out to meet him."' by midnight he denoteth the uncertainty of that time. then all those virgins arose. 'they that were ready went forth to meet the bridegroom and went in with him to the marriage, and the door was shut.' but they that were un-ready (whom rightly he calleth foolish), seeing that their lamps were going out, went forth to buy oil. afterward they drew nigh, the door being now shut, and cried, saying, 'lord, lord, open to us.' but he answered and said, 'verily i say unto you, i know you not.' wherefore from all this it is manifest that there is a requital not only for overt acts, but also for words and even secret thoughts; for the saviour said, 'i say unto you, that for every idle word that men shall speak they shall give account thereof in the day of judgement.' and again he saith, 'but the very hairs of your head are numbered,' by the hairs meaning the smallest and slightest phantasy or thought. and in harmony herewith is the teaching of blessed paul, 'for the word of god,' saith he, 'is quick and powerful, and sharper than any two-edged sword, and piercing even to the dividing asunder of soul and spirit, and of the joints and marrow, and is a discerner of the thoughts and intents of the heart. neither is there any creature that is not manifest in his sight: but all things are naked and laid bare unto the eyes of him with whom we have to do." "these things also were proclaimed with wondrous clearness by the prophets of old time, illumined by the grace of the spirit. for esay saith, 'i know their works and their thoughts,' and will repay them. 'behold, i come to gather all nations and all tongues; and they shall come and see my glory. and the heaven shall be new, and the earth, which i make before me. and all flesh shall come to worship before me, saith the lord. and they shall go forth, and look upon the carcasses of the men that have transgressed against me: for their worm shall not die, neither shall their fire be quenched; and they shall be a spectacle unto all flesh." and again he saith concerning that day, "and the heavens shall be rolled together as a scroll, and all the stars shall fall down as leaves from the vine. for behold, the day of the lord cometh, cruel with wrath and fierce anger, to lay the whole world desolate and to destroy the sinners out of it. for the stars of heaven and orion and all the constellations of heaven shall not give their light, and there shall be darkness at the sun's rising, and the moon shall not give her light. and i will cause the arrogancy of the sinners to cease, and will lay low the haughtiness of the proud.' and again he saith, 'wo unto them that draw their iniquities as with a long cord, and their sins as with an heifer's cart-rope! wo unto them that call evil good, and good evil; that put darkness for light, and light for darkness; that put bitter for sweet, and sweet for bitter! wo unto those of you that are mighty, that are princes, that mingle strong drink, which justify the wicked for reward, and take justice from the just, and turn aside the judgement from the needy, and take away the right from the poor, that the widow may be their spoil and the fatherless their prey! and what will they do in the day of visitation, and to whom will they flee for help? and where will they leave their glory, that they fall not into arrest? like as stubble shall be burnt by live coal of fire, and consumed by kindled flame, so their root shall be as foam, and their blossom shall go up as dust, for they would not the law of the lord of hosts, and provoked the oracle of the holy one of israel." "in tune therewith saith also another prophet, 'the great day of the lord is near, and hasteth greatly. the bitter and austere voice of the day of the lord hath been appointed. a mighty day of wrath is that day, a day of trouble and distress, a day of wasteness and desolation, a day of blackness and gloominess, a day of clouds and thick darkness, a day of the trumpet and alarm. and i will bring distress upon the wicked, and they shall walk like blind men, because they have sinned against the lord. neither their silver nor their gold shall be able to deliver them in the day of the lord's wrath; for the whole land shall be devoured by the fire of his jealousy, for he shall make a riddance of all them that dwell in the land.' moreover david, the king and prophet, crieth thus, 'god shall come visibly, even our god, and shall not keep silence: a fire shall be kindled before him, and a mighty tempest round about him. he shall call the heaven from above, and the earth, that he may judge his people.' and again he saith, 'arise, o god, judge thou the earth, because "the fierceness of man shall turn to thy praise." and thou shalt "reward every man according to his works."' and many other such things have been spoken by the psalmist, and all the prophets inspired by the holy ghost, concerning the judgement and the recompense to come. their words also have been most surely confirmed by the saviour who hath taught us to believe the resurrection of the dead, and the recompense of the deeds done in the flesh, and the unending life of the world to come." x but ioasaph was filled hereby with deep compunction, and was melted into tears; and he said to the elder, "thou hast told me everything plainly, and hast completed unerringly thy terrible and marvellous tale. with such truths set before us, what must we do to escape the punishments in store for sinners, and to gain the joy of the righteous?" barlaam answered: "it is written of peter, who was also called chief of the apostles, that once when he was preaching the people were pricked in their heart, like thyself to-day: and when they asked, 'what shall we do?', peter said unto them, 'repent, and be baptized every one of you for the remission of sins, and ye shall receive the gift of the holy ghost. for to you is the promise, and to your children, and to all that are afar off even as many as the lord our god shall call.' behold therefore upon thee also hath he poured forth the riches of his mercy, and hath called thee that wert afar off from him in heart, and didst serve others, not gods, but pernicious devils and dumb and senseless wooden images. wherefore before all things approach thou him who hath called thee, and from him shalt thou receive the true knowledge of things visible and invisible. but if, after thy calling, thou be loth or slack, thou shalt be disherited by the just judgement of god, and by thy rejection of him thou shalt be rejected. for thus too spake the same apostle peter to a certain disciple. but i believe that thou hast heard the call, and that, when thou hast heard it more plainly, thou wilt take up thy cross, and follow that god and master that calleth thee, calleth thee to himself from death unto life, and from darkness unto light. for, soothly, ignorance of god is darkness and death of the soul; and to serve idols, to the destruction of all nature, is to my thinking the extreme of all senselessness. "but idolaters--to whom shall i compare them, and to what likeness shall i liken their silliness? well, i will set before thee an example which i heard from the lips of one most wise. "'idol worshippers,' said he, 'are like a fowler who caught a tiny bird, called nightingale. he took a knife, for to kill and eat her; but the nightingale, being given the power of articulate speech, said to the fowler, 'man, what advantageth it thee to slay me? for thou shalt not be able by my means to fill thy belly. now free me of my fetters, and i will give thee three precepts, by the keeping of which thou shalt be greatly benefited all thy life long.' he, astonied at her speech, promised that, if he heard anything new from her, he would quickly free her from her captivity. the nightingale turned towards our friend and said, 'never try to attain to the unattainable: never regret the thing past and gone: and never believe the word that passeth belief. keep these three precepts, and may it be well with thee.' the man, admiring the lucidity and sense of her words, freed the bird from her captivity, and sent her forth aloft. she, therefore, desirous to know whether the man had understood the force of her words, and whether he had gleaned any profit therefrom, said, as she flew aloft, 'shame, sir, on thy fecklessness! what a treasure that hast lost to-day! for i have inside me a pearl larger than an ostrich-egg.' when the fowler heard thereof, he was distraught with grief, regretting that the bird had escaped out of his hands. and he would fain have taken her again. 'come hither,' said he, 'into my house: i will make thee right welcome, and send thee forth with honour.' but the nightingale said unto him, 'now i know thee to be a mighty fool. though thou didst receive my words readily and gladly, thou hast gained no profit thereby. i bade thee never regret the thing past and gone; and behold thou art distraught with grief because i have escaped out of thy hands there thou regrettest a thing past and gone. i charged thee not to try to attain to the unattainable, and thou triest to catch me, though thou canst not attain to my path. besides which, i bade thee never believe a word past belief, and behold thou hast believed that i had inside me a pearl exceeding the measure of my size, and hadst not the sense to see that my whole body doth not attain to the bulk of ostrich eggs. how then could i contain such a pearl?"' "thus senseless, then, are also they that trust in idols: for these be their handiwork, and they worship that which their fingers made, saying, 'these be our creators.' how then deem they their creators those which have been formed and fashioned by themselves? nay more, they safeguard their gods, lest they be stolen by thieves, and yet they call them guardians of their safety. and yet what folly not to know that they, which be unable to guard and aid themselves, can in no wise guard and save others! 'for' saith he, 'why, on behalf of the living, should they seek unto the dead?' they expend wealth, for to raise statues and images to devils, and vainly boast that these give them good gifts, and crave to receive of their hands things which those idols never possessed, nor ever shall possess. wherefore it is written, 'may they that make them be like unto them, and so be all such as put their trust in them, who,' he saith, 'hire a goldsmith, and make them gods, and they fall down, yea, they worship them. they bear them upon the shoulders, and go forward. and if they set them in their place, they stand therein: they shall not remove. yea, one shall cry unto them, yet call they not answer him, nor save him out of his trouble.' 'wherefore be ye ashamed with everlasting shame, ye that trust in graven images, that say to the molten images, ye are our gods.' 'for they sacrificed,' he saith, 'unto devils, and not to god; to gods whom their fathers knew not. there came new and fresh gods; because it is a froward generation, and there is no faith in them.' "wherefore out of this wicked and faithless generation the lord calleth thee to him, saying, 'come out from among them, and be thou separate, and touch no unclean thing,' but 'save thyself from this untoward generation.' 'arise thou, and depart, for this is not thy rest;' for that divided lordship, which your gods hold, is a thing of confusion and strife and hath no real being whatsoever. but with us it is not so, neither have we many gods and lords, but one god, the father, of whom are all things, and we unto him: and one lord jesus christ, by whom are all things and we by him, 'who is the image of the invisible god, the first born of every creature' and of all ages, 'for in him were all things created that are in the heavens and that are upon the earth, visible and invisible, whether they be thrones, or dominions, or principalities, or powers.' 'all things were made by him, and without him was not anything made that was made:' and one holy ghost, in whom are all things, 'the lord and giver of life,' god and making god, the good spirit, the right spirit, 'the spirit the comforter,' 'the spirit of adoption.' of these each person, severally, is god. as the father is, so also is the son, and as the son, so also the holy ghost. and there is one god in three, one nature, one kingdom, one power, one glory, one substance, distinct in persons, and so only distinct. one is the father, whose property it is not to have been begotten; one is the only-begotten son, and his property it is to have been begotten; and one is the holy ghost, and his property it is that he proceedeth. thus illuminated by that light, which is the father, with that light, which is the son, in that light, which is the holy ghost, we glorify one godhead in three persons. and he is one very and only god, known in the trinity: for of him and through him, and unto him are all things. "by his grace also, i came to know thy ease, and was sent to teach thee the lessons that i have learned and observed from my youth even to these grey hairs. if then thou shalt believe and be baptized, thou shalt be saved; but if thou believe not, thou shalt be damned. all the things that thou seest to-day, wherein thou gloriest,--pomp, luxury, riches, and all the deceitfulness of life,--quickly pass away; and they shall cast thee hence whether thou wilt or no. and thy body will be imprisoned in a tiny grave, left in utter loneliness, and bereft of all company of kith and kin. and all the pleasant things of the world shall perish; and instead of the beauty and fragrance of to-day, thou shalt be encompassed with horror and the stink of corruption. but thy soul shall they hurl into the nether-regions of the earth, into the condemnation of hades, until the final resurrection, when re-united to her body, she shall be cast forth from the presence of the lord and be delivered to hell fire, which burneth everlastingly. these, and far worse haps than these, shall be thy destiny, if thou continue in unbelief. "but and if thou readily obey him that calleth thee to salvation, and if thou run unto him with desire and joy, and be signed with his light, and follow him without turn, renouncing every thing, and cleaving only unto him, hear what manner of security and happiness shall be thine. 'when thou sittest down, thou shall not be afraid of sudden fear. when thou liest down, sweet shall be thy sleep.' and thou shalt not be afraid of terror coming or the assaults of evil spirits, but shalt go thy way bold as any lion, and shalt live in bliss and everlasting joyaunce. for joy and praise shall crown thy head, and gladness shall befall thee there, where pain and sorrow and wailing shall flee away.' 'then shall thy light break forth as the morning, and thine health shall rise speedily: and thy righteousness shall go before thee, and the glory of the lord shall be thy reward.' then shalt thou call, and the lord shall answer; while thou art yet speaking, he shall say, 'here am i.' 'i, even i, am he that blotteth out thy transgressions, and will not remember them. put me in remembrance: let us plead together: declare thou thy sins that thou mayst be justified.' 'though thy sins be as scarlet, i will make them white as snow: though they be red as crimson i will make them white as wool, for the mouth of the lord hath spoken it.'" xi. ioasaph said unto him, "all thy words are fair and wonderful, and, while thou spakest, i believed them and still believe them; and i hate all idolatry with all my heart. and indeed, even before thy coming hither, my soul was, in uncertain fashion, doubtful of it. but now i hate it with a perfect hatred, since i have learned from thy lips the vanity thereof, and the folly of those who worship idols; and i yearn to become the servant of the true god, if haply he will not refuse me, that am unworthy by reason of my sins, and i trust that he will forgive me everything, because he is a lover of men, and compassionate, as thou tellest me, and will count me worthy to become his servant. so i am ready anon to receive baptism, and to observe all thy sayings. but what must i do after baptism? and is this alone sufficient for salvation, to believe and be baptized, or must one add other services thereto?" barlaam answered him, "hear what thou must do after baptism. thou must abstain from all sin, and every evil affection, and build upon the foundation of the catholick faith the practice of the virtues; for faith without works is dead, as also are works without faith. for, saith the apostle, 'walk in the spirit, and ye shall not fulfil the lust of the flesh.' now the works of the flesh are manifest, which are these: adultery, fornication, uncleanness, lasciviousness, idolatry, witchcraft, hatred, variance, emulations, wrath, strife, seditions, heresies, envyings, murders, love of money, railing, love of pleasure, drunkenness, revelling, arrogance, and such like, of the which i tell you before, as i have also told you in time past, that they which do such things shall not inherit the kingdom of god. but the fruit of the spirit is love, joy, peace, longsuffering, gentleness, goodness, faith, meekness, temperance, sanctification of soul and body, lowliness of heart and contrition, almsgiving, forgiveness of injuries, loving-kindness, watchings, perfect repentance of all past offences, tears of compunction, sorrow for our own sins and those of our neighbours, and the like. these, even as steps and ladders that support one another and are clinched together, conduct the soul to heaven. lo, to these we are commanded to cleave after baptism, and to abstain from their contraries. "but if, after receiving the knowledge of the truth, we again lay hold on dead works, and, like a dog, return to our vomit, it shall happen unto us according to the word of the lord; 'for,' saith he, 'when the unclean spirit is gone out of a man' (to wit, by the grace of baptism) 'he walketh through dry places, seeking rest, and finding none.' but enduring not for long to wander homeless and hearthless, he saith, 'i will return to my house whence i came out.' and, when he cometh, he findeth it swept and garnished, but empty and unoccupied, not having received the operation of grace, nor having filled itself with the riches of the virtues. then goeth he, and taketh to him seven other spirits more wicked than himself; and they enter in and dwell there: and the last state of that man becometh worse than the first.' for baptism burieth in the water and completely blotteth out the hand-writing of all former sins, and is to us for the future a sure fortress and tower of defence, and a strong weapon against the marshalled host of the enemy; but it taketh not away free will, nor alloweth the forgiving of sins after baptism, or immersion in the font a second time. for it is one baptism that we confess, and need is that we keep ourselves with all watchfulness that so we fall not into defilement a second time, but hold fast to the commandments of the lord. for when he said to the apostles, 'go make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the father, and of the son, and of the holy ghost,' he did not stop there, but added, 'teaching them to observe all things whatsoever i have commanded you.' "now he commanded men to be poor in spirit, and such he calleth blessed and worthy of the kingdom of heaven. again he chargeth us to mourn in the present life, that we may obtain comfort hereafter, and to be meek, and to be ever hungering and thirsting after righteousness: to be merciful, and ready to distribute, pitiful and compassionate, pure in heart, abstaining from all defilement of flesh and spirit, peacemakers with our neighbours and with our own souls, by bringing the worse into subjection to the better, and thus by a just decision making peace in that continual warfare betwixt the twain; also to endure all persecution and tribulation and reviling, inflicted upon us for righteousness' sake in defence of his name, that we may obtain everlasting felicity in the glorious distribution of his rewards. ay, and in this world he exhorteth us to let our 'light so shine before men, that they may see,' he saith, 'your good works, and glorify your father which is in heaven.' "for the law of moses, formerly given to the israelites, saith, 'thou shalt not kill; thou shalt not commit adultery; thou shalt not steal; thou shalt not bear false witness:' but christ saith 'whosoever is angry with his brother without a cause shall be in danger of the judgement; and whosoever shall say, thou fool, shall be in danger of hell fire:' and, 'if thou bring thy gift to the altar, and there rememberest that thy brother hath aught against thee, leave there thy gift before the altar, and go thy way and first be reconciled to thy brother.' and he also saith, 'whosoever looketh on a woman to lust after her, hath committed adultery with her in his heart.' and hereby he calleth the defilement and consent of the affection adultery. furthermore, where the law forbade a man to forswear himself, christ commanded him to swear not at all beyond yea and nay. there we read, 'eye for eye and tooth for tooth': here, 'whosoever shall smite thee on thy right cheek, turn to him the other also. and if any man will sue thee at the law, and take away thy coat, let him have thy cloke also. and whosoever shall compel thee to go a mile, go with him twain. give to him that asketh time, and from him that would borrow of thee turn not thou away. love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you and persecute you; that ye may be the children of your father which is in heaven: for he maketh his sun to rise on the evil and on the good, and sendeth rain on the just and on the unjust. judge not, that ye be not judged. forgive, and ye shall be forgiven. lay not up for yourselves treasures upon earth, where moth and rust doth corrupt, and where thieves break through and steal: but lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust doth corrupt, and where thieves do not break through nor steal: for where your treasure is, there will your heart be also. take no thought for your life, what ye shall eat, or what ye shall drink; nor yet for your body, what ye shall put on: for your heavenly father knoweth that ye have need of all these things.' he therefore that gave life and body will assuredly give food and raiment: he that feedeth the fowls of the air and arrayeth with such beauty the lilies of the field. 'but, seek ye first,' saith christ, 'the kingdom of god, and his righteousness; and all these things shall be added unto you. take therefore no thought for the morrow: for the morrow shall take thought for the things of itself. therefore all things whatsoever ye would that men should do to you, do ye even so to them. enter ye in at the strait gate: for wide is the gate, and broad is the way that leadeth to destruction, and many there be which go in thereat. strait and narrow is the way which leadeth unto life and few there be that find it. not every one that saith unto me, lord, lord, shall enter into the kingdom of heaven; but he that doeth the will of my father which is in heaven. he that loveth father or mother more than me is not worthy of me; and he that loveth son and daughter more than me is not worthy of me. and he that taketh not up his cross and followeth after me, is not worthy of me.' lo these and the like of these be the things which the saviour commanded his apostles to teach the faithful: and all these things we are bound to observe, if we desire to attain to perfection and receive the incorruptible crowns of righteousness, which the lord, the righteous judge, shall give at that day unto all them that have loved his appearing." ioasaph said unto the elder, "well then, as the strictness of these doctrines demandeth such chaste conversation, if, after baptism, i chance to fail in one or two of these commandments, shall i therefore utterly miss the goal, and shall all my hope be vain?" barlaam answered, "deem not so. god, the word, made man for the salvation of our race, aware of the exceeding frailty and misery of our nature, hath not even here suffered our sickness to be without remedy. but, like a skilful leech, he hath mixed for our unsteady and sin-loving heart the potion of repentance, prescribing this for the remission of sins. for after that we have received the knowledge of the truth, and have been sanctified by water and the spirit, and cleansed without effort from all sin and all defilement, if we should fortune to fall into any transgression, there is, it is true, no second regeneration made within us by the spirit through baptism in the water of the font, and wholly re-creating us (that gift is given once for all); but, by means of painful repentance, hot tears, toils and sweats, there is a purifying and pardoning of our offences through the tender mercy of our god. for the fount of tears is also called baptism, according to the grace of the master, but it needeth labour and time; and many hath it saved after many a fall; because there is no sin too great for the clemency of god, if we be quick to repent, and purge the shame of our offences, and death overtake us not, and depart us not from this life still defiled; for in the grave there is no confession nor repentance. but as long as we are 'among the living, while the foundation of our true faith continueth unshattered, even if somewhat of the outer roof-work or inner building be disabled, it is allowed to renew by repentance the part rotted by sins. it is impossible to count the multitude of the mercies of god, or measure the greatness of his compassion: whereas sins and offences, of whatever kind, are subject to measure and may be numbered. so our offences, being subject to measure and number, cannot overcome the immeasurable compassion, and innumerable mercies of god. "wherefore we are commanded not to despair for our trespasses, but to acknowledge the goodness of god, and condemn the sins whereof forgiveness is offered us by reason of the loving-kindness of christ, who for our sins shed his precious blood. in many places of scripture we are taught the power of repentance, and especially by the precepts and parables of our lord jesus christ. for it saith, 'from that time began jesus to preach and to say, "repent ye, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand."' moreover he setteth before us, in a parable, a certain son that had received his father's substance, and taken his journey into a far country, and there spent all in riotous living. then, when there arose a famine in that land, he went and joined himself to one of the citizens of that land of iniquity, who sent him into his fields to feed swine,--thus doth he designate the most coarse and loathsome sin. when, after much labour, he had come to the utmost misery, and might not even fill his belly with the husks that the swine did eat, at last he came to perceive his shameful plight, and, bemoaning himself, said, 'how many hired servants of my father's have bread enough and to spare, and i perish with hunger! i will arise and go to my father, and will say unto him, "father, i have sinned against heaven and before thee, and am no more worthy to be called thy son: make me as one of thy hired servants."' and he arose, and came to his father. but, when he was yet a great way off, his father saw him, and had compassion, and ran, and embraced him, and kissed him tenderly, and, restoring him to his former rank, made a feast of joyaunce because his son was found again, and killed the fatted calf. lo, this parable, that jesus spake to us, concerneth such as turn again from sin, and fall at his feet in repentance. again, he representeth a certain good shepherd that had an hundred sheep, and, when one was lost, left the ninety and nine, and went forth to seek that which was gone astray, until he found it: and he laid it on his shoulders, and folded it with those that had not gone astray, and called together his friends and neighbours to a banquet, because that it was found. 'likewise,' saith the saviour, 'joy shall be in heaven over one sinner that repenteth, more than over ninety and nine just persons which need no repentance.' "and, in sooth, even the chief of the disciples, peter, the rock of the faith, in the very season of the saviour's passion, failing for a little while in his stewardship, that he might understand the worthlessness and misery of human frailty, fell under the guilt of denial. then he straightway remembered the lord's words, and went out and wept bitterly, and with those hot tears made good his defeat, and transferred the victory to his own side. like a skilful man of war, though fallen, he was not undone, nor did he despair, but, springing to his feet, he brought up, as a reserve, bitter tears from the agony of his soul; and straightway, when the enemy saw that sight, like a man whose eyes are scorched with a fierce flame, he leaped off and fled afar, howling horribly. so the chief became chief again, as he had before been chosen teacher of the whole world, being now become its pattern of penitence. and after his holy resurrection christ made good this three-fold denial with the three-fold question, 'peter, lovest thou me?', the apostle answering, 'yea, lord, thou knowest that i love thee.' "so from all these and many other examples beyond count we learn the virtue of tears and repentance. only the manner thereof must be noted it must arise from a heart that abominateth sin and weepeth, as saith the prophet david, 'i am weary of my groaning: every night will i wash my bed and water my couch with my tears.' again the cleansing of sins will be wrought by the blood of christ, in the greatness of his compassion and the multitude of the mercies of that god who saith, 'though your sins be as scarlet, i will make them white as snow,' and so forth. "thus therefore it is, and thus we believe. but after receiving the knowledge of the truth and winning regeneration and adoption as sons, and tasting of the divine mysteries, we must strive hard to keep our feet lest we fall. for to fall becometh not the athlete, since many have fallen and been unable to rise. some, opening a door to sinful lusts, and clinging obstinately to them, have no more had strength to hasten back to repentance; and others, being untimely snatched by death, and having not made speed enough to wash them from the pollution of their sin, have been damned. and for this cause it is parlous to fall into any kind of sinful affection whatsoever. but if any man fall, he must at once leap up, and stand again to fight the good fight: and, as often as there cometh a fall, so often must there at once ensue this rising and standing, unto the end. for, 'turn ye unto me, and i will turn unto you,' saith the lord god." xii. to this said ioasaph, "but how, after baptism, shall a man keep himself clear from all sin? for even if there be, as thou sayest, repentance for them that stumble, yet it is attended with toil and trouble, with weeping and mourning; things which, methinks, are not easy for the many to accomplish. but i desired rather to find a way to keep strictly the commandments of god, and not swerve from them, and, after his pardoning of my past misdeeds, never again to provoke that most sweet god and master." barlaam answered, "well said, my lord and king. that also is my desire; but it is hard, nay quite impossible, for a man living with fire not to be blackened with smoke: for it is an uphill task, and one not easy of accomplishment, for a man that is tied to the matters of this life and busied with its cares and troubles, and liveth in riches and luxury, to walk unswervingly in the way of the commandments of the lord, and to preserve his life pure of these evils. 'for,' saith the lord, 'no man can serve two masters; for either he will hate the one and love the other; or else he will hold to the one and despise the other. ye cannot serve god and mammon.' so also writeth the beloved evangelist and divine in his epistle, thus saying, 'love not the world, neither the things that are in the world. if any man love the world, the love of the father is not in him. for all that is in the world, the lust of the flesh, and the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life, is not of the father, but is of the world. and the world passeth away, and the lust thereof; but he that doeth the will of god abideth for ever.' "these things were well understood by our holy and inspired fathers; and mindful of the apostle's word that we must through much tribulation enter into the kingdom of heaven, they strove, after holy baptism, to keep their garment of immortality spotless and undefiled. whence some of them also thought fit to receive yet another baptism; i mean that which is by blood and martyrdom. for this too is called baptism, the most honourable, and reverend of all, inasmuch as its waters are not polluted by fresh sin; which also our lord underwent for our sakes, and rightly called it baptism. so as imitators and followers of him, first his eyewitness, disciples, and apostles, and then the whole band of holy martyrs yielded themselves, for the name of christ, to kings and tyrants that worshipped idols, and endured every form of torment, being exposed to wild beasts, fire and sword, confessing the good confession, running the course and keeping the faith. thus they gained the prizes of righteousness, and became the companions of angels, and fellow-heirs with christ. their virtue shone so bright that their sound went out into all lands, and the splendour of their good deeds flashed like lightning into the ends of the earth. of these men, not only the words and works, but even the very blood and bones are full of all sanctity, mightily casting out devils, and giving to such as touch them in faith the healing of incurable diseases: yea, and even their garments, and anything else that hath been brought near their honoured bodies, are always worthy of the reverence of all creation. and it were a long tale to tell one by one their deeds of prowess. "but when those cruel and brutal tyrants brought their miserable lives to a miserable end, and persecution ceased, and christian kings ruled throughout the world, then others too in succession emulated the martyrs' zeal and divine desire, and, wounded at heart with the same love, considered well how they might present soul and body without blemish unto god, by cutting off all the workings of sinful lusts and purifying themselves of every defilement of flesh and spirit. but, as they perceived that this could only be accomplished by the keeping of the commandments of christ, and that the keeping of his commandments and the practice of the virtues was difficult to attain in the midst of the turmoils of the world, they adopted for themselves a strange and changed manner of life, and, obedient to the voice divine, forsook all, parents, children, friends, kinsfolk, riches and luxury, and, hating everything in the world, withdrew, as exiles, into the deserts, being destitute, afflicted, evil entreated, wandering in wildernesses and mountains, and in dens and caves of the earth, self-banished from all the pleasures and delights upon earth, and standing in sore need even of bread and shelter. this they did for two causes: firstly, that never seeing the objects of sinful lust, they might pluck such desires by the root out of their soul, and blot out the memory thereof, and plant within themselves the love and desire of divine and heavenly things: and secondly, that, by exhausting the flesh by austerities, and becoming martyrs in will, they might not miss the glory of them that were made perfect by blood, but might be themselves, in their degree, imitators of the sufferings of christ, and become partakers of the kingdom that hath no end. having then come to this wise resolve, they adopted the quiet of monastic life, some facing the rigours of the open air, and braving the blaze of the scorching heat and fierce frosts and rain-storms and tempestuous winds, others spending their lives in the hovels which they had builded them, or in the hiding of holes and caverns. thus, in pursuit of virtue, they utterly denied themselves all fleshly comfort and repose, submitting to a diet of uncooked herbs and worts, or acorns, or hard dry bread, not merely saying good-bye to delights in their quality, but, in very excess of temperance, extending their zeal to limit even the quantity of enjoyment. for even of those common and necessary meats they took only so much as was sufficient to sustain life. some of them continued fasting the whole week, and partook of victuals only of a sunday: others thought of food twice only in the week: others ate every other day, or daily at eventide, that is, took but a taste of food. in prayers and watchings they almost rivalled the life of angels, bidding a long farewell to the possession of gold and silver, and quite forgetting that buyings and sellings are concerns of men. "but envy and pride, the evils most prone to follow good works, had no place amongst them. he that was weaker in ascetic exercises entertained no thought of malice against him of brighter example. nor again was he, that had accomplished great feats, deceived and puffed up by arrogance to despise his weaker brethren, or set at nought his neighbour, or boast of his rigours, or glory in his achievements. he that excelled in virtue ascribed nothing to his own labours, but all to the power of god, in humility of mind persuading himself that his labours were nought and that he was debtor even for more, as saith the lord, 'when ye shall have done all those things which are commanded you, say, "we are unprofitable servants: we have done that which was our duty to do."' others again persuaded themselves that they had not done even the things which they were commanded to do, but that the things left undone outnumbered the things already well done. again, he that was far behind in austerity, perchance through bodily weakness, would disparage and blame himself, attributing his failure to slothfulness of mind rather than to natural frailty. so each excelled each, and all excelled all in this sweet reasonableness. but the spirit of vain glory and pleasing of men--what place had it among them? for they had fled from the world, and were dwelling in the desert, to the end that they might show their virtues not to men, but to god, from whom also they hope to receive the rewards of their good deeds, well aware that religious exercises performed for vain glory go without recompense; for these are done for the praise of men and not for god. whence all that do thus are doubly defrauded: they waste their body, and receive no reward. but they who yearn for glory above, and strive thereafter, despise all earthly and human glory. "as to their dwellings, some monks finish the contest in utter retirement and solitude, having removed themselves far from the haunts of men throughout the whole of their earthly life-time, and having drawn nigh to god. others build their homes at a distance one from another, but meet on the lord's day at one church, and communicate of the holy mysteries, i mean the unbloody sacrifice of the undefiled body and precious blood of christ, which the lord gave to the faithful for the remission of sins, for the enlightenment and sanctification of soul and body. they entertain one another with the exercises of the divine oracles and moral exhortations, and make public the secret wiles of their adversaries, that none, through ignorance of the manner of wrestling, may be caught thus. then turn they again, each to his own home, eagerly storing the honey of virtue in the cells of their hearts, and husbanding sweet fruits worthy of the heavenly board. "others again spend their life in monasteries. these gather in multitudes in one spot, and range themselves under one superior and president, the best of their number, slaying all self-will with the sword of obedience. of their own free choice they consider themselves as slaves bought at a price, and no longer live for themselves, but for him, to whom, for christ his sake, they have become obedient; or rather, to speak more properly, they live no more for themselves, but christ liveth in them, whom to follow, they renounce all. this is retirement, a voluntary hatred of the world, and denial of nature by desire of things above nature. these men therefore live the lives of angels on earth, chanting psalms and hymns with one consent unto the lord, and purchasing for themselves the title of confessors by labours of obedience. and in them is fulfilled the word of the lord, when he saith, 'where two or three are gathered together in my name, there am i in the midst of them.' by this number he limiteth not the gathering together in his name, but by 'two or three' signifieth that the number is indefinite. for, whether there be many, or few, gathered together because of his holy name, serving him with fervent zeal, there we believe him to be present in the midst of his servants. "by these ensamples and such like assemblies men of earth and clay imitate the life of heavenly beings, in fastings and prayers and watchings, in hot tears and sober sorrow, as soldiers in the field with death before their eyes, in meekness and gentleness, in silence of the lips, in poverty and want, in chastity and temperance, in humbleness and quietude of mind, in perfect charity toward god and their neighbour, carrying their present life down to the grave, and becoming angels in their ways. wherefore god hath graced them with miracles, signs and various virtues and made the voice of their marvellous life to be sounded forth to the ends of the world. if i open my mouth to declare in every point the life of one of them who is said to have been the founder of the monastic life, antony by name, by this one tree thou shalt assuredly know the sweet fruits of other trees of the like kind and form, and shalt know what a foundation of religious life that great man laid, and what a roof he built, and what gifts he merited to receive from the saviour. after him many fought the like fight and won like crowns and guerdons. "blessed, yea, thrice blessed, are they that have loved god, and, for his love's sake, have counted every thing as nothing worth. for they wept and mourned, day and night, that they might gain everlasting comfort: they humbled themselves willingly, that there they might be exalted: they afflicted the flesh with hunger and thirst and vigil, that there they might come to the pleasures and joys of paradise. by their purity of heart they became a tabernacle of the holy ghost, as it is written, 'i will dwell in them and walk in them.' they crucified themselves unto the world, that they might stand at the right hand of the crucified: they girt their loins with truth, and alway had their lamps ready, looking for the coming of the immortal bridegroom. the eye of their mind being enlightened, they continually looked forward to that awful hour, and kept the contemplation of future happiness and everlasting punishment immovable from their hearts, and pained themselves to labour, that they might not lose eternal glory. they became passionless as the angels, and now they weave the dance in their fellowship, whose lives also they imitated. blessed, yea, thrice blessed are they, because with sure spiritual vision they discerned the vanity of this present world and the uncertainty and inconstancy of mortal fortune, and cast it aside, and laid up for themselves everlasting blessings, and laid hold of that life which never faileth, nor is broken by death. "these then are the marvellous holy men whose examples we, that are poor and vile, strive to imitate, but cannot attain to the high level of the life of these heavenly citizens. nevertheless, so far as is possible for our weakness and feeble power, we take the stamp of their lives, and wear their habit: even though we fail to equal their works; for we are assured that this holy profession is a means to perfection and an aid to the incorruption given us by holy baptism. so, following the teachings of these blessed saints, we utterly renounce these corruptible and perishable things of life, wherein may be found nothing stable or constant, or that continueth in one stay; but all things are vanity and vexation of spirit, and many are the changes that they bring in a moment; for they are slighter than dreams and a shadow, or the breeze that bloweth the air. small and short-lived is their charm, that is after all no charm, but illusion and deception of the wickedness of the world; which world we have been taught to love not at all, but rather to hate with all our heart. yea, and verily it is worthy of hatred and abhorrence; for whatsoever gifts it giveth to its friends, these in turn in passion it taketh away, and shall hand over its victims, stripped of all good things, clad in the garment of shame, and bound under heavy burdens, to eternal tribulation. and those again whom it exalteth, it quickly abaseth to the utmost wretchedness, making them a foot-stool and a laughing stock for their enemies. such are its charms, such its bounties. for it is an enemy of its friends, and traitor to such as carry out its wishes: dasheth to dire destruction all them that lean upon it, and enervateth those that put their trust therein. it maketh covenants with fools and fair false promises, only that it may allure them to itself. but, as they have dealt treacherously, it proveth itself treacherous and false in fulfilling none of its pledges. to-day it tickleth their gullet with pleasant dainties; to-morrow it maketh them nought but a gobbet for their enemies. to-day it maketh a man a king: to-morrow it delivereth him into bitter servitude. to-day its thrall is fattening on a thousand good things; to-morrow he is a beggar, and drudge of drudges. to-day it placeth on his head a crown of glory; to-morrow it dasheth his face upon the ground. to-day it adorneth his neck with brilliant badges of dignity; to-morrow it humbleth him with a collar of iron. for a little while it causeth him to be the desire of all men; but after a time it maketh him their hate and abomination. to-day it gladdeneth him: but to-morrow it weareth him to a shadow with lamentations and wailings. what is the end thereof, thou shalt hear. ruthlessly it bringeth its former lovers to dwell in hell. such is ever its mind, such its purposes. it lamenteth not its departed, nor pitieth the survivor. for after that it hath cruelly duped and entangled in its meshes the one party, it immediately transferreth the resources of its ingenuity against the other, not willing that any should escape its cruel snares, "these men that have foolishly alienated themselves from a good and kind master, to seek the service of so harsh and savage a lord, that are all agog for present joys and are glued thereto, that take never a thought for the future, that always grasp after bodily enjoyments, but suffer their souls to waste with hunger, and to be worn with myriad ills, these i consider to be like a man flying before the face of a rampant unicorn, who, unable to endure the sound of the beast's cry, and its terrible bellowing, to avoid being devoured, ran away at full speed. but while he ran hastily, he fell into a great pit; and as he fell, he stretched forth his hands, and laid hold on a tree, to which he held tightly. there he established some sort of foot-hold and thought himself from that moment in peace and safety. but he looked and descried two mice, the one white, the other black, that never ceased to gnaw the root of the tree whereon he hung, and were all but on the point of severing it. then he looked down to the bottom of the pit and espied below a dragon, breathing fire, fearful for eye to see, exceeding fierce and grim, with terrible wide jaws, all agape to swallow him. again looking closely at the ledge whereon his feet rested, he discerned four heads of asps projecting from the wall whereon he was perched. then he lift up his eyes and saw that from the branches of the tree there dropped a little honey. and thereat he ceased to think of the troubles whereby he was surrounded; how, outside, the unicorn was madly raging to devour him: how, below, the fierce dragon was yawning to swallow him: how the tree, which he had clutched, was all but severed; and how his feet rested on slippery, treacherous ground. yea, he forgat, without care, all those sights of awe and terror, and his whole mind hung on the sweetness of that tiny drop of honey. "this is the likeness of those who cleave to the deceitfulness of this present life,--the interpretation whereof i will declare to thee anon. the unicorn is the type of death, ever in eager pursuit to overtake the race of adam. the pit is the world, full of all manner of ills and deadly snares. the tree, which was being continually fretted by the two mice, to which the man clung, is the course of every man's life, that spendeth and consuming itself hour by hour, day and night, and gradually draweth nigh its severance. the fourfold asps signify the structure of man's body upon four treacherous and unstable elements which, being disordered and disturbed, bring that body to destruction. furthermore, the fiery cruel dragon betokeneth the maw of hell that is hungry to receive those who choose present pleasures rather than future blessings. the dropping of honey denoteth the sweetness of the delights of the world, whereby it deceiveth its own friends, nor suffereth them to take timely thought for their salvation." xiii. ioasaph received this parable with great joy and said, "how true this story is, and most apt! grudge not, then, to shew me other such like figures, that i may know for certain what the manner of our life is, and what it hath in store for its friends." the elder answered, "again, those who are enamoured of the pleasures of life, and glamoured by the sweetness thereof, who prefer fleeting and paltry objects to those which are future and stable, are like a certain man who had three friends. on the first two of these he was extravagantly lavish of his honours, and clave passionately to their love, fighting to the death and deliberately hazarding his life for their sakes. but to the third he bore himself right arrogantly, never once granting him the honour nor the love that was his due, but only making show of some slight and inconsiderable regard for him. now one day he was apprehended by certain dread and strange soldiers, that made speed to hale him to the king, there to render account for a debt of ten thousand talents. being in a great strait, this debtor sought for a helper, able to take his part in this terrible reckoning with the king. so he ran to his first and truest friend of all, and said, 'thou wottest, friend, that i ever jeopardied my life for thy sake. now to-day i require help in a necessity that presseth me sore. in how many talents wilt thou undertake to assist me now? what is the hope that i may count upon at thy hands, o my dearest friend?' the other answered and said unto him, 'man, i am not thy friend: i know not who thou art. other friends i have, with whom i must needs make merry to-day, and so win their friendship for the time to come. but, see, i present thee with two ragged garments, that thou mayest have them on the way whereon thou goest, though they will do thee no manner of good. further help from me thou mayest expect none.' the other, hearing this, despaired of the succour whereon he had reckoned, and went to his second friend, saying, 'friend, thou rememberest how much honour and kindness thou hast enjoyed at my hands. to-day i have fallen into tribulation and sorrow, and need a helping hand. to what extent then canst thou share my labour? tell me at once.' said he, 'i have on leisure today to share thy troubles. i too have fallen among cares and perils, and am myself in tribulation. howbeit, i will go a little way with thee, even if i shall fail to be of service to thee. then will i turn quickly homeward, and busy myself with mine own anxieties.' so the man returned from him too empty-handed and baulked at every turn; and he cried misery on himself for his vain hope in those ungrateful friends, and the unavailing hardships that he had endured through love of them. at the last he went away to the third friend, whom he had never courted, nor invited to share his happiness. with countenance ashamed and downcast, he said unto him, 'i can scarce open my lips to speak with thee, knowing full well that i have never done thee service, or shown thee any kindness that thou mightest now remember. but seeing that a heavy misfortune hath overtaken me, and that i have found nowhere among my friends any hope of deliverance, i address myself to thee, praying thee, if it lie in thy power, to afford me some little aid. bear no grudge for my past unkindness, and refuse me not.' the other with a smiling and gracious countenance answered, 'assuredly i own thee my very true friend. i have not forgotten those slight services of thine: and i will repay them to-day with interest. fear not therefore, neither be afraid. i will go before thee and entreat the king for thee, and will by no means deliver thee into the hands of thine enemies. wherefore be of good courage, dear friend, and fret not thyself.' then, pricked at heart, the other said with tears, 'wo is me! which shall i first lament, or which first deplore? condemn my vain preference for my forgetful, thankless and false friends, or blame the mad ingratitude that i have shown to thee, the sincere and true?'" ioasaph heard this tale also with amazement and asked the interpretation thereof. then said barlaam, "the first friend is the abundance of riches, and love of money, by reason of which a man falleth into the midst of ten thousand perils, and endureth many miseries: but when at last the appointed day of death is come, of all these things he carrieth away nothing but the useless burial cloths. by the second friend is signified our wife and children and the remnant of kinsfolk and acquaintance, to whom we are passionately attached, and from whom with difficulty we tear ourselves away, neglecting our very soul and body for the love of them. but no help did man ever derive from these in the hour of death, save only that they will accompany and follow him to the sepulchre, and then straightway turning them homeward again they are occupied with their own cares and matters, and bury his memory in oblivion as they have buried his body in the grave. but the third friend, that was altogether neglected and held cheap, whom the man never approached, but rather shunned and fled in horror, is the company of good deeds,--faith, hope, charity, alms, kindliness, and the whole band of virtues, that can go before us, when we quit the body, and may plead with the lord on our behalf, and deliver us from our enemies and dread creditors, who urge that strict rendering of account in the air, and try bitterly to get the mastery of us. this is the grateful and true friend, who beareth in mind those small kindnesses that we have shown him and repayeth the whole with interest." xiv. again said ioasaph, "the lord god prosper thee, o thou wisest of men! for thou hast gladdened my soul with thine apt and excellent sayings. wherefore sketch me yet another picture of the vanity of the world, and how a man may pass through it in peace and safety." barlaam took up his parable and said, "hear then a similitude of this matter too. i once heard tell of a great city whose citizens had, from old time, the custom of taking some foreigner and stranger, who knew nothing of their laws and traditions, and of making him their king, to enjoy absolute power, and follow his own will and pleasure without hindrance, until the completion of a year. then suddenly, while he was living with never a care in rioting and wantonness, without fear, and alway supposing that his reign would only terminate with his life, they would rise up against him, strip him bare of his royal robes, lead him in triumph up and down the city, and thence dispatch him beyond their borders into a distant great island; there, for lack of food and raiment, in hunger and nakedness he would waste miserably away, the luxury and pleasure so unexpectedly showered upon him changed as unexpectedly into woe. in accordance therefore with the unbroken custom of these citizens, a certain man was ordained to the kingship. but his mind was fertile of understanding, and he was not carried away by this sudden access of prosperity, nor did he emulate the heedlessness of the kings that had gone before him, and had been miserably expelled, but his soul was plunged in care and trouble how he might order his affairs well. after long and careful search, he learned from a wise counsellor the custom of the citizens, and the place of perpetual banishment, and was taught of him without guile how to ensure himself against this fate. so with this knowledge that within a very little while he must reach that island and leave to strangers this chance kingdom among strangers, he opened the treasures whereof he had awhile absolute and unforbidden use, and took a great store of money and huge masses of gold and silver and precious stones and delivered the same to trusty servants and sent them before him to the island whither he was bound. when the appointed year came to an end, the citizens rose against him, and sent him naked into banishment like those that went before him. but while the rest of these foolish kings, kings only for a season, were sore anhungred, he, that had timely deposited his wealth, passed his time in continual plenty mid dainties free of expense, and, rid of all fear of those mutinous and evil citizens, could count himself happy on his wise forethought. "understand thou, therefore, that the city is this vain and deceitful world; that the citizens are the principalities and powers of the devils, the rulers of the darkness of this world, who entice us by the soft bait of pleasure, and counsel us to consider corruptible and perishable things as incorruptible, as though the enjoyment that cometh from them were co-existent with us, and immortal as we. thus then are we deceived; we have taken no thought concerning the things which are abiding and eternal, and have laid up in store for ourselves no treasure for that life beyond, when of a sudden there standeth over us the doom of death. then, then at last do those evil and cruel citizens of darkness, that received us, dispatch us stript of all worldly goods,--for all our time has been wasted on their service--and carry us off 'to a dark land and a gloomy, to a land of eternal darkness, where there is no light, nor can one behold the life of men.' as for that good counsellor, who made known all the truth and taught that sagacious and wise king the way of salvation, understand thou that i, thy poor and humble servant, am he, who am come hither for to shew thee the good and infallible way to lead thee to things eternal and unending, and to counsel thee to lay up all thy treasure there; and i am come to lead thee away from the error of this world, which, to my woe, i also loved, and clave to its pleasures and delights. but, when i perceived, with the unerring eyes of my mind how all human life is wasted in these things that come and go; when i saw that no man hath aught that is stable and steadfast, neither the rich in his wealth, nor the mighty in his strength, nor the wise in his wisdom, nor the prosperous in his prosperity, nor the luxurious in his wantonness, nor he that dreameth of security of life in that vain and feeble security of his dreams, nor any man in any of those things that men on earth commend ('tis like the boundless rush of torrents that discharge themselves into the deep sea, thus fleeting and temporary are all present things); then, i say, i understood that all such things are vanity, and that their enjoyment is naught; and, that even as the past is all buried in oblivion, be it past glory, or past kingship, or the splendour of rank, or amplitude of power, or arrogance of tyranny, or aught else like them, so also present things will vanish in the darkness of the days to come. and, as i am myself of the present, i also shall doubtless be subject to its accustomed change; and, even as my fathers before me were not allowed to take delight for ever in the present world, so also shall it be with me. for i have observed how this tyrannical and troublesome world treateth mankind, shifting men hither and thither, from wealth to poverty, and from poverty to honour, carrying some out of life and bringing others in, rejecting some that are wise and understanding, making the honourable and illustrious dishonoured and despised, but seating others who are unwise and of no understanding upon a throne of honour, and making the dishonoured and obscure to be honoured of all. "one may see how the race of mankind may never abide before the face of the cruel tyranny of the world. but, as when a dove fleeing from an eagle or a hawk flitteth from place to place, now beating against this tree, now against that bush, and then anon against the clefts of the rocks and all manner of bramble-thorns, and, nowhere finding any safe place of refuge, is wearied with continual tossing and crossing to and fro, so are they which are flustered by the present world. they labour painfully under unreasoning impulse, on no sure or firm bases: they know not to what goal they are driving, nor whither this vain life leadeth them this vain life, whereto they have in miserable folly subjected themselves, choosing evil instead of good, and pursuing vice instead of goodness; and they know not who shall inherit the cold fruits of their many heavy labours, whether it be a kinsman or a stranger, and, as oft times it haps, not even a friend or acquaintance at all, but an enemy and foeman. "on all these things, and others akin to them, i held judgement in the tribunal of my soul, and i came to hate my whole life that had been wasted in these vanities, while i still lived engrossed in earthly things. but when i had put off from my soul the lust thereof, and cast it from me, then was there revealed unto me the true good, to fear god and do his will; for this i saw to be the sum of all good. this also is called the beginning of wisdom, and perfect wisdom. for life is without pain and reproach to those that hold by her, and safe to those who lean upon her as upon the lord. so, when i had set my reason on the unerring way of the commandments of the lord, and had surely learned that there is nothing froward or perverse therein, and that it is not full of chasms and rocks, nor of thorns and thistles, but lieth altogether smooth and even, rejoicing the eyes of the traveller with the brightest sights, making beautiful his feet, and shoeing them with 'the preparation of the gospel of peace,' that he may walk safely and without delay, this way, then, i rightly chose above all others, and began to rebuild my soul's habitation, which had fallen into ruin and decay. "in such wise was i devising mine estate, and establishing mine unstable mind, when i heard the words of a wise teacher calling loudly to me thus, 'come ye out,' said he, 'all ye that will to be saved. be ye separate from the vanity of the world, for the fashion thereof quickly passeth away, and behold it shall not be. come ye out, without turning back, not for nothing and without reward, but winning supplies for travelling to life eternal, for ye are like to journey a long road, needing much supplies from hence, and ye shall arrive at the place eternal that hath two regions, wherein are many mansions; one of which places god hath prepared for them that love him and keep his commandments, full of all manner of good things; and they that attain thereto shall live for ever in incorruption, enjoying immortality without death, where pain and sorrow and sighing are fled away. but the other place is full of darkness and tribulation and pain, prepared for the devil and his angels, wherein also shall be cast they who by evil deeds have deserved it, who have bartered the incorruptible and eternal for the present world, and have made themselves fuel for eternal fire.' "when i heard this voice, and recognized the truth, i did my diligence to attain to that abode, that is free from all pain and sorrow, and full of security and all good things, whereof i have knowledge now only in part, being but a babe in my spiritual life, and seeing the sights yonder as through mirrors and riddles; but when that which is perfect is come, and i shall see face to face, then that which is in part shall be done away. wherefore i thank god through jesus christ our lord; for the law of the spirit of life in christ jesus hath made me free from the law of sin and of death, and hath opened mine eyes to see clearly that the will of the flesh is death, but the will of the spirit is life and peace. and even as i did discern the vanity of present things and hate them with a perfect hatred, so likewise i counsel thee to decide thereon, that thou mayest treat them as something alien and quickly passing away, and mayest remove all thy store from earth and lay up for thyself in the incorruptible world a treasure that can not be stolen, wealth inexhaustible, in that place whither thou must shortly fare, that when thou comest thither thou mayest not be destitute, but be laden with riches, after the manner of that aptest of parables that i lately showed thee." xv. said ioasaph unto the elder, "how then shall i be able to send before me thither treasures of money and riches, that, when i depart hence, i may find these unharmed and unwasted for my enjoyment? how must i show my hatred for things present and lay hold on things eternal? this make thou right plain unto me." quoth barlaam, "the sending before thee of money to that eternal home is wrought by the hands of the poor. for thus saith one of the prophets, daniel the wise, unto the king of babylon, 'wherefore, o prince, let my counsel be acceptable unto thee, and redeem thy sins by almsgiving, and thine iniquities by showing mercy to the poor.' the saviour also saith, 'make to yourselves friends of the mammon of unrighteousness; that, when ye fail, they may receive you into everlasting habitations.' and, in divers places, the master maketh much mention of almsgiving and liberality to the poor, as we learn in the gospel. thus shalt thou most surely send all thy treasure before thee by the hands of the needy, for whatsoever thou shalt do unto these the master counteth done unto himself, and will reward thee manifold; for, in the recompense of benefits, he ever surpasseth them that love him. so in this manner by seizing for awhile the treasures of the darkness of this world, in whose slavery for a long time past thou hast been miserable, thou shalt by these means make good provision for thy journey, and by plundering another's goods thou shalt store all up for thyself, with things fleeting and transient purchasing for thyself things that are stable and enduring. afterwards, god working with thee, thou shalt perceive the uncertainty and inconstancy of the world, and saying farewell to all, shalt remove thy barque to anchor in the future, and, passing by the things that pass away, thou shalt hold to the things that we look for, the things that abide. thou shalt depart from darkness and the shadow of death, and hate the world and the ruler of the world; and, counting thy perishable flesh thine enemy, thou shalt run toward the light that is unapproachable, and taking the cross on thy shoulders, shalt follow christ without looking back, that thou mayest also be glorified with him, and be made inheritor of the life that never changeth nor deceiveth." ioasaph said, "when thou spakest a minute past of despising all things, and taking up such a life of toil, was that an old tradition handed down from the teaching of the apostles, or is this a late invention of your wits, which ye have chosen for yourselves as a more excellent way?" the elder answered and said, "i teach thee no law introduced but yesterday, god forbid! but one given unto us of old. for when a certain rich young man asked the lord, 'what shall i do to inherit eternal life?' and boasted that he had observed all that was written in the law, jesus said unto him, 'one thing thou lackest yet. go sell all that thou hast and distribute unto the poor, and thou shalt have treasure in heaven, and come, take up thy cross and follow me. but when the young man heard this he was very sorrowful, for he was very rich. and when jesus saw that he was very sorrowful, he said, 'how hardly shall they which have riches enter into the kingdom of god! for it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle, than for a rich man to enter into the kingdom of god!' so, when all the saints heard this command, they thought fit by all means to withdraw from this hardness of riches. they parted with all their goods, and by this distribution of their riches to the poor laid up for themselves eternal riches; and they took up their cross and followed christ, some being made perfect by martyrdom, even as i have already told thee; and some by the practice of self-denial falling not a whit short of those others in the life of the true philosophy. know thou, then, that this is a command of christ our king and god, which leadeth us from things corruptible and maketh us partakers of things everlasting." said ioasaph, "if, then, this kind of philosophy be so ancient and so salutary, how cometh it that so few folk now-a-days follow it?" the elder answered, "many have followed, and do follow it; but the greatest part hesitate and draw back. for few, saith the lord, are the travellers along the strait and narrow way, but along the wide and broad way many. for they that have once been taken prisoners by the love of money, and the evils that come from the love of pleasure, and are given up to idle and vain glory, are hardly to be torn therefrom, seeing that they have of their own free will sold themselves as slaves to a strange master, and setting themselves on the opposite side to god, who gave these commands, are held in bondage to that other. for the soul that hath once rejected her own salvation, and given the reins to unreasonable lusts, is carried about hither and thither. therefore saith the prophet, mourning the folly that encompasseth such souls, and lamenting the thick darkness that lieth on them, 'o ye sons of men, how long will ye be of heavy heart? why love ye vanity, and seek after leasing?' and in the same tone as he, but adding thereto some thing of his own, one of our wise teachers, a most excellent divine, crieth aloud to all, as from some exceeding high place of vantage, 'o ye sons of men, how long will ye be of heavy heart? why love ye vanity and seek after leasing? trow ye that this present life, and luxury, and these shreds of glory, and petty lordship and false prosperity are any great thing?'--things which no more belong to those that possess them than to them that hope for them, nor to these latter any more than to those who never thought of them: things like the dust carried and whirled about to and fro by the tempest, or vanishing as the smoke, or delusive as a dream, or intangible as a shadow; which, when absent, need not be despaired of by them that have them not, and, when present, cannot be trusted by their owners. "this then was the commandment of the saviour; this the preaching of the prophets and apostles; in such wise do all the saints, by word and deed, constrain us to enter the unerring road of virtue. and though few walk therein and more choose the broad way that leadeth to destruction, yet not for this shall the life of this divine philosophy be minished in fame. but as the sun, rising to shine on all, doth bounteously send forth his beams, inviting all to enjoy his light, even so doth our true philosophy, like the sun, lead with her light those that are her lovers, and warmeth and brighteneth them. but if any shut their eyes, and will not behold the light thereof, not for that must the sun be blamed, or scorned by others: still less shall the glory of his brightness be dishonoured through their silliness. but while they, self-deprived of light, grope like blind men along a wall, and fall into many a ditch, and scratch out their eyes on many a bramble bush, the sun, firmly established on his own glory, shall illuminate them that gaze upon his beams with unveiled face. even so shineth the light of christ on all men abundantly, imparting to us of his lustre. but every man shareth thereof in proportion to his desire and zeal. for the sun of righteousness disappointeth none of them that would fix their gaze on him, yet doth he not compel those who willingly choose darkness; but every man, so long as he is in this present life, is committed to his own free will and choice." ioasaph asked, "what is free will and what is choice?" the elder answered, "free will is the willing of a reasonable soul, moving without hindrance toward whatever it wisheth, whether to virtue or to vice, the soul being thus constituted by the creator. free will again is the sovran motion of an intelligent soul. choice is desire accompanied by deliberation, or deliberation accompanied by desire for things that lie in our power; for in choosing we desire that which we have deliberately preferred. deliberation is a motion towards enquiry about actions possible to us; a man deliberateth whether he ought to pursue an object or no. then he judgeth which is the better, and so ariseth judgement. then he is inclined towards it, and loveth that which was so judged by the deliberative faculty, and this is called resolve; for, if he judge a thing, and yet be not inclined toward the thing that he hath judged, and love it not, it is not called resolve. then, after inclination toward it, there ariseth choice or rather selection. for choice is to choose one or other of two things in view, and to select this rather than that. and it is manifest that choice is deliberation plus discrimination, and this from the very etymology. for that which is the 'object of choice' is the thing chosen before the other thing. and no man preferreth a thing without deliberation, nor makeeth a choice without having conceived a preference. for, since we are not zealous to carry into action all that seemeth good to us, choice only ariseth and the deliberately preferred only becometh the chosen, when desire is added thereto. thus we conclude that choice is desire accompanied by deliberation for things that lie in our power; in choosing we desire that which we have deliberately preferred. all deliberation aimeth at action and dependeth on action; and thus deliberation goeth before all choice, and choice before all action. for this reason not only our actions, but also our thoughts, inasmuch as they give occasion for choice, bring in their train crowns or punishments. for the beginning of sin and righteous dealing is choice, exercised in action possible to us. where the power of activity is ours, there too are the actions that follow that activity in our power. virtuous activities are in our power, therefore in our power are virtues also; for we are absolute masters over all our souls' affairs and all our deliberations. since then it is of free will that men deliberate, and of free will that men choose, a man partaketh of the light divine, and advanceth in the practice of this philosophy in exact measure of his choice, for there are differences of choice. and even as water-springs, issuing from the hollows of the earth, sometimes gush forth from the surface soil, and sometimes from a lower source, and at other times from a great depth, and even as some of these waters bubble forth continuously, and their taste is sweet, while others that come from deep wells are brackish or sulphurous, even as some pour forth in abundance while others flow drop by drop, thus, understand thou, is it also with our choices. some choices are swift and exceeding fervent, others languid and cold: some have a bias entirely toward virtue, while others incline with all their force to its opposite. and like in nature to these choices are the ensuing impulses to action." xvi. ioasaph said unto the elder, "are there now others, too, who preach the same doctrines as thou? or art thou to-day the only one that teacheth this hatred of the present world?" the other answered and said, "in this your most unhappy country i know of none: the tyranny of thy father hath netted all such in a thousand forms of death; and he hath made it his aim that the preaching of the knowledge of god be not once heard in your midst. but in all other tongues these doctrines are sung and glorified, by some in perfect truth, but by others perversely; for the enemy of our souls hath made them decline from the straight road, and divided them by strange teachings, and taught them to interpret certain sayings of the scriptures falsely, and not after the sense contained therein. but the truth is one, even that which was preached by the glorious apostles and inspired fathers, and shineth in the catholick church above the brightness of the sun from the one end of the world unto the other; and as an herald and teacher of that truth have i been sent to thee." ioasaph said unto him, "hath my father then, learned naught of these things?" the elder answered, "clearly and duly he hath learned naught; for he stoppeth up his senses, and will not admit that which is good, being of his own free choice inclined to evil." "would god," said ioasaph, "that he too were instructed in these mysteries?" the elder answered, "the things that are impossible with men are possible with god. for how knowest thou whether thou shalt save thy sire, and in wondrous fashion be styled the spiritual father of thy father? "i have heard that, once upon a time, there was a king who governed his kingdom right well, and dealt kindly and gently with his subjects, only failing in this point, that he was not rich in the light of the knowledge of god, but held fast to the errors of idolatry. now he had a counsellor, which was a good man and endued with righteousness toward god and with all other virtuous wisdom. grieved and vexed though he was at the error of the king, and willing to convince him thereof, he nevertheless drew back from the attempt, for fear that he might earn trouble for himself and his friends, and cut short those services which he rendered to others. yet sought he a convenient season to draw his sovereign toward that which was good. one night the king said unto him, "come now, let us go forth and walk about the city, if haply we may see something to edify us." now while they were walking about the city, they saw a ray of light shining through an aperture. fixing their eyes thereon, they descried an underground cavernous chamber, in the forefront of which there sat a man, plunged in poverty, and clad in rags and tatters. beside him stood his wife, mixing wine. when the man took the cup in his hands, she sung a clear sweet melody, and delighted him by dancing and cozening him with flatteries. the king's companions observed this for a time, and marvelled that people, pinched by such poverty as not to afford house and raiment, yet passed their lives in such good cheer. the king said to his chief counsellor, 'friend, how marvellous a thing it is, that our life, though bright with such honour and luxury, hath never pleased us so well as this poor and miserable life doth delight and rejoice these fools: and that this life, which appeareth to us so cruel and abominable, is to them sweet and alluring!' the chief counsellor seized the happy moment and said, 'but to thee, o king, how seemeth their life?' 'of all that i have ever seen,' quoth the king, 'the most hateful and wretched, the most loathsome and abhorrent.' then spake the chief counsellor unto him, "such, know thou well, o king, and even more unendurable is our life reckoned by those who are initiated into the sight of the mysteries of yonder everlasting glory, and the blessings that pass all understanding. your palaces glittering with gold, and these splendid garments, and all the delights of this life are more loathsome than dung and filth in the eyes of those that know the unspeakable beauties of the tabernacles in heaven made without hands, and the apparel woven by god, and the incorruptible diadems which god, the creator and lord of all, hath prepared for them that love him. for like as this couple were accounted fools by us, so much the more are we, who go astray in this world and please ourselves in this false glory and senseless pleasure, worthy of lamentation and tears in the eyes of those who have tasted of the sweets of the bliss beyond.' "when the king heard this, he became as one dumb. he said, 'who then are these men that live a life better than ours?' 'all,' said the chief-counsellor 'who prefer the eternal to the temporal.' again, when the king desired to know what the eternal might be the other replied, 'a kingdom that knoweth no succession, a life that is not subject unto death, riches that dread no poverty: joy and gladness that have no share of grief and vexation; perpetual peace free from all hatred and love of strife. blessed, thrice blessed are they that are found worthy of these enjoyments! free from pain and free from toil is the life that they shall live for ever, enjoying without labour all the sweets and pleasaunce of the kingdom of god, and reigning with christ world without end.' "'and who is worthy to obtain this?' asked the king. the other answered, 'all they that hold on the road that leadeth thither; for none forbiddeth entrance, if a man but will.' "said the king, 'and what is the way that beareth thither?' that bright spirit answered, 'to know the only true god, and jesus christ, his only-begotten son, and the holy and quickening spirit.' "the king, endowed with understanding worthy of the purple, said unto him, 'what hath hindered thee until now from doing me to wit of these things? for they appear to me too good to be put off or passed over, if they indeed be true; and, if they be doubtful, i must search diligently, until i find the truth without shadow of doubt.' "the chief counsellor said, 'it was not from negligence or indifference that i delayed to make this known unto thee, for it is true and beyond question, but 'twas because i reverenced the excellency of thy majesty, lest thou mightest think me a meddler. if therefore thou bid thy servant put thee in mind of these things for the future, i shall obey thy behest.' 'yea,' said the king, 'not every day only, but every hour, renew in me the remembrance thereof: for it behoveth us not to turn our mind inattentively to these things, but with very fervent zeal.' "we have heard," said barlaam, "that this king lived, for the time to come, a godly life, and, having brought his days without tempest to an end, failed not to gain the felicity of the world to come. if then at a convenient season one shall call these things to thy father's mind also, peradventure he shall understand and know the dire evil in which he is held, and turn therefrom and choose the good; since, for the present at least, 'he is blind and cannot see afar off,' having deprived himself of the true light and being a deserter of his own accord to the darkness of ungodliness." ioasaph said unto him, "the lord undertake my father's matters, as he ordereth! for, even as thou sayest, the things that are impossible with men, are possible with him. but for myself, thanks to thine unsurpassable speech, i renounce the vanity of things present, and am resolved to withdraw from them altogether, and to spend the rest of my life with thee, lest, by means of these transitory and fleeting things, i lose the enjoyment of the eternal and incorruptible." the elder answered him, "this do, and thou shalt be like unto a youth of great understanding of whom i have heard tell, that was born of rich and distinguished parents. for him his father sought in marriage the exceeding fair young daughter of a man of high rank and wealth. but when he communed with his son concerning the espousals, and informed him of his plans, the son thought it strange and ill-sounding, and cast it off, and left his father and went into exile. on his journey he found entertainment in the house of a poor old man, where he rested awhile during the heat of the day. "now this poor man's daughter, his only child, a virgin, was sitting before the door, and, while she wrought with her hands, with her lips she loudly sang the praises of god with thanksgiving from the ground of her heart. the young man heard her hymn of praise and said, 'damsel, what is thine employment? and wherefore, poor and needy as thou art, givest thou thanks as though for great blessings, singing praise to the giver?' she answered, 'knowest thou not that, as a little medicine often times delivereth a man from great ailments, even so the giving of thanks to god for small mercies winneth great ones? therefore i, the daughter of a poor old man, thank and bless god for these small mercies, knowing that the giver thereof is able to give even greater gifts. and this applieth but to those external things that are not our own from whence there accrueth no gain to those who possess much (not to mention the loss that often ariseth), nor cometh there harm to those who have less; for both sorts journey along the same road, and hasten to the same end. but, in things most necessary and vital, many and great the blessings i have enjoyed of my lord, though indeed they are without number and beyond compare. i have been made in the image of god, and have gained the knowledge of him, and have been endowed with reason beyond all the beasts, and have been called again from death unto life, through the tender mercy of our god, and have received power to share in his mysteries; and the gate of paradise hath been opened to me, allowing me to enter without hindrance, if i will. wherefore for gifts so many and so fine, shared alike by rich and poor, i can indeed in no wise praise him as i ought, yet if i fail to render to the giver this little hymn of praise, what excuse shall i have?' "the youth, astonished at her wit, called to her father, and said unto him, 'give me thy daughter: for i love her wisdom and piety.' but the elder said, 'it is not possible for thee, the son of wealthy parents, to take this a beggar's daughter.' again the young man said, 'yea, but i will take her, unless thou forbid: for a daughter of noble and wealthy family hath been betrothed unto me in marriage, and her i have cast off and taken to flight. but i have fallen in love with thy daughter because of her righteousness to god-ward, and her discreet wisdom, and i heartily desire to wed-her.' but the old man said unto him, 'i cannot give her unto thee, to carry away to thy father's house, and depart her from mine arms, for she is mine only child.' 'but,' said the youth, 'i will abide here with your folk and adopt your manner of life.' thereupon he stripped him of his own goodly raiment, and asked for the old man's clothes and put them on. when the father had much tried his purpose, and proved him in manifold ways, and knew that his intent was fixed, and that it was no light passion that led him to ask for his daughter, but love of godliness that constrained him to embrace a life of poverty, preferring it to his own glory and noble birth, he took him by the hand, and brought him into his treasure-house, where he showed him much riches laid up, and a vast heap of money, such as the young man had never beheld. and he said unto him, 'son, all these things give i unto thee, forasmuch as thou hast chosen to become the husband to my daughter, and also thereby the heir of all my substance.' so the young man acquired the inheritance, and surpassed all the famous and wealthy men of the land." xvii. said ioasaph unto barlaam, "this story also fitly setteth forth mine own estate. whence also me thinketh that thou hadst me in mind when thou spakest it. but what is the proof whereby thou seekest to know the steadfastness of my purpose?" said the elder, "i have already proved thee, and know how wise and steadfast is thy purpose, and how truly upright is thine heart. but the end of thy fortune shall confirm it. for this cause i bow my knees unto our god glorified in three persons, the maker of all things visible and invisible, who verily is, and is for ever, that never had beginning of his glorious being, nor hath end, the terrible and almighty, the good and pitiful, that he may enlighten the eyes of thine heart, and give thee the spirit of wisdom and revelation in the knowledge of him, that thou mayest know what is the hope of his calling, and what the riches of the glory of his inheritance in the saints, and what is the exceeding greatness of his power to us-ward who believe; that thou mayest be no more a stranger and sojourner, but a fellow-citizen with the saints, and of the household of god, being built upon the foundation of the apostles and prophets, jesus christ our lord himself being the chief corner-stone, in whom all the building fitly framed together groweth unto an holy temple in the lord." ioasaph, keenly pricked at the heart, said, "all this i too long to learn: and i beseech thee make known to me the riches of the glory of god, and the exceeding greatness of his power." barlaam said unto him, "i pray god to teach thee this, and to plant in thy soul the knowledge of the same; since with men it is impossible that his glory and power be told, yea, even if the tongues of all men that now are and have ever been were combined in one. for, as saith the evangelist and divine, 'no man hath seen god at any time; the only begotten son, which is in the bosom of the father, he hath declared him.' but the glory and majesty of the invisible and infinite god, what son of earth shall skill to comprehend it, save he to whom he himself shall reveal it, in so far as he will, as he hath revealed it, to his prophets and apostles? but we learn it, so far as in us lieth, by their teaching, and from the very nature of the world. for the scripture saith, 'the heavens declare the glory of god, and the firmament sheweth his handiwork;' and, 'the invisible things of him from the creation of the world are clearly understood by the things that are made, even his eternal power and godhead.' "even as a man, beholding an house splendidly and skilfully builded, or a vessel fairly framed, taketh note of the builder or workman and marvelleth thereat, even so i that was fashioned out of nothing and brought into being, though i cannot see the maker and provider, yet from his harmonious and marvellous fashioning of me have come to the knowledge of his wisdom, not to the full measure of that wisdom, but to the full compass of my powers; yea i have seen that i was not brought forth by chance, nor made of myself, but that he fashioned me, as it pleased him, and set me to have dominion over his creatures, howbeit making me lower than some; that, when i was broken, he re-created me with a better renewal; and that he shall draw me by his divine will from this world and place me in that other life that is endless and eternal; and that in nothing i could withstand the might of his providence, nor add anything to myself nor take anything away, whether in stature or bodily form, and that i am not able to renew for myself that which is waxen old, nor raise that which hath been destroyed. for never was man able to accomplish aught of these things, neither king, nor wise man, nor rich man, nor ruler, nor any other that pursueth the tasks of men. for he saith, 'there is no king, or mighty man, that had any other beginning of birth. for all men have one entrance into life, and the like going out.' "so from mine own nature, i am led by the hand to the knowledge of the mighty working of the creator; and at the same time i think upon the well-ordered structure and preservation of the whole creation, how that in itself it is subject everywhere to variableness and change, in the world of thought by choice, whether by advance in the good, or departure from it, in the world of sense by birth and decay, increase and decrease, and change in quality and motion in space. and thus all things proclaim, by voices that cannot be heard, that they were created, and are held together, and preserved, and ever watched over by the providence of the uncreate, unturning and unchanging god. else how could diverse elements have met, for the consummation of a single world, one with another, and remained inseparable, unless some almighty power had knit them together, and still were keeping them from dissolution? 'for how could anything have endured, if it had not been his will? or been preserved, if not called by him?' as saith the scripture. "a ship holdeth not together without a steersman, but easily foundereth; and a small house shall not stand without a protector. how then could the world have subsisted for long ages, a work so great, and so fair and wondrous,--without some glorious mighty and marvellous steersmanship and all-wise providence? behold the heavens, how long they have stood, and have not been darkened: and the earth hath not been exhausted, though she hath been bearing offspring so long. the water-springs have not failed to gush out since they were made. the sea, that receiveth so many rivers, hath not exceeded her measure. the courses of sun and moon have not varied: the order of day and night hath not changed. from all these objects is declared unto us the unspeakable power and magnificence of god, witnessed by prophets and apostles. but no man can fitly conceive or sound forth his glory. for the holy apostle, that had christ speaking within him, after perceiving all objects of thought and sense, still said, 'we know in part, and we prophesy in part. but when that which is perfect is come, then that which is in part shall be done away.' wherefore also, astonied at the infinite riches of his wisdom and knowledge, he cried for all to understand, 'o the depth of the riches both of the wisdom and knowledge of god! how unsearchable are his judgments, and his ways past finding out!' "now, if he, that attained unto the third heaven and heard such unspeakable words, uttered such sentences, what man of my sort shall have strength to look eye to eye upon the abysses of such mysteries, or speak rightly thereof, or think meetly of the things whereof we speak, unless the very giver of wisdom, and the amender of the unwise, vouchsafe that power? for in his hand are we and our words, and all prudence and knowledge of wisdom is with him. and he himself hath given us the true understanding of the things that are; to know the structure of the world, the working of the elements, the beginning, end and middle of times, the changes of the solstices, the succession of seasons, and how he hath ordered all things by measure and weight. for he can shew his great strength at all times, and who may withstand the power of his arm? for the whole world before him is as a little grain of the balance, yea, as a drop of the morning dew that falleth down upon the earth. but he hath mercy upon all; for he can do all things, and winketh at the sins of men, because they should amend. for he abhorreth nothing, nor turneth away from them that run unto him, he, the only good lord and lover of souls. blessed be the holy name of his glory, praised and exalted above all for ever! amen." xviii. ioasaph said unto him, "if thou hadst for a long time considered, most wise sir, how thou mightest best declare to me the explanation of the questions that i propounded, methinks thou couldest not have done it better than by uttering such words as thou hast now spoken unto me. thou hast taught me that god is the maker and preserver of all things; and in unanswerable language thou hast shown me that the glory of his majesty is incomprehensible to human reasonings, and that no man is able to attain thereto, except those to whom, by his behest, he revealeth it. wherefore am i lost in amaze at thine eloquent wisdom. "but tell me, good sir, of what age thou art, and in what manner of place is thy dwelling, and who are thy fellow philosophers; for my soul hangeth fast on thine, and fain would i never be parted from thee all the days of my life." the elder said, "mine age is, as i reckon, forty and five years, and in the deserts of the land of senaar do i dwell. for my fellow combatants i have those who labour and contend together with me on the course of the heavenly journey." "what sayest thou?" quoth ioasaph. "thou seemest to me upwards of seventy years old. how speakest thou of forty and five? herein methinks thou tellest not the truth." barlaam said unto him, "if it be the number of years from my birth that thou askest, thou hast well reckoned them at upwards of seventy. but, for myself, i count not amongst the number of my days the years that i wasted in the vanity of the world. when i lived to the flesh in the bondage of sin, i was dead in the inner man; and those years of deadness i can never call years of life. but now the world hath been crucified to me, and i to the world, and i have put off the old man, which is corrupt according to the deceitful lusts, and live no longer to the flesh, but christ liveth in me; and the life that i live, i live by the faith of the son of god, who loved me and gave himself for me. and the years, that have passed since then, i may rightly call years of life, and days of salvation. and in numbering these at about forty and five, i reckoned by the true tale, and not off the mark. so do thou also alway hold by this reckoning; and be sure that there is no true life for them that are dead to all good works, and live in sin, and serve the world-ruler of them that are dragged downward, and waste their time in pleasures and lusts: but rather be well assured that these are dead and defunct in the activity of life. for a wise man hath fitly called sin the death of the immortal soul. and the apostle also saith, 'when ye were the servants of sin, ye were free from righteousness. what fruit had ye then in those things whereof ye are now ashamed? for the end of those things is death. but now being made free from sin, and become servants to god, ye have your fruit unto holiness, and the end everlasting life. for the wages of sin is death, but the gift of god is eternal life.'" ioasaph said unto him, "since thou reckonest not the life in the flesh in the measure of life, neither canst thou reckon that death, which all men undergo, as death." the elder answered, "without doubt thus think i of these matters also, and fear this temporal death never a whit, nor do i call it death at all, if only it overtake me walking in the way of the commandments of god, but rather a passage from death to the better and more perfect life, which is hid in christ, in desire to obtain which the saints were impatient of the present. wherefore saith the apostle, 'we know that if our earthly house of this tabernacle be dissolved, we have a building of god, a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens. for in this we groan, earnestly desiring to be clothed upon with our house which is from heaven: if so be that being clothed we shall not be found naked. for we that are in this tabernacle do groan, being burdened: not for that we would be unclothed, but clothed upon, that mortality might be swallowed up of life.' and again, 'o wretched man that i am! who shall deliver me from the body of this death?' and once more, 'i desire to depart and be with christ.' and the prophet saith, 'when shall i come and appear before the presence of god?' now that i the least of all men, choose not to fear bodily death, thou mayest learn by this, that i have set at nought thy father's threat, and come boldly unto thee, and have preached to thee the tidings of salvation, though i knew for sure that, if this came to his knowledge, he would, were that possible, put me to a thousand deaths. but i, honouring the word of god afore all things, and longing to win it, dread not temporal death, nor reek on it at all worthy of such an appellation, in obedience to my lord's command, which saith, 'fear not them which kill the body, but are not able to kill the soul: but rather fear him which is able to destroy both soul and body in hell.'" "these then," said ioasaph, "are the good deeds of that true philosophy, that far surpass the nature of these earthly men who cleave fast to the present life. blessed are ye that hold to so noble a purpose! but tell me truly what is thy manner of life and that of thy companions in the desert, and from whence cometh your raiment and of what sort may it be? tell me as thou lovest truth." said barlaam, "our sustenance consisteth of acorns and herbs that we find in the desert, watered by the dew of heaven, and in obedience to the creator's command; and for this there is none to fight and quarrel with us, seeking by the rule and law of covetousness to snatch more than his share, but in abundance for all is food provided from unploughed lands, and a ready table spread. but, should any of the faithful brethren in the neighbourhood bring a blessed dole of bread, we receive it as sent by providence, and bless the faith that brought it. our raiment is of hair, sheepskins or shirts of palm fibre, all thread-bare and much patched, to mortify the frailty of the flesh. we wear the same clothing winter and summer, which, once put on, we may on no account put off until it be old and quite outworn. for by thus afflicting our bodies with the constraints of cold and heat we purvey for ourselves the vesture of our future robes of immortality." ioasaph said, "but whence cometh this garment that thou wearest?" the elder answered, "i received it as a loan from one of our faithful brethren, when about to make my journey unto thee; for it behoved me not to arrive in mine ordinary dress. if one had a beloved kinsman carried captive into a foreign land, and wished to recover him thence, one would lay aside one's own clothing, and put on the guise of the enemy, and pass into their country and by divers crafts deliver one's friend from that cruel tyranny. even so i also, having been made aware of thine estate, clad myself in this dress, and came to sow the seed of the divine message in thine heart, and ransom thee from the slavery of the dread ruler of this world. and now behold by the power of god, as far as in me lay, i have accomplished my ministry, announcing to thee the knowledge of him, and making known unto thee the preaching of the prophets and apostles, and teaching thee unerringly and soothly the vanity of the present life, and the evils with which this world teems, which cruelly deceiveth them that trust therein, and taketh them in many a gin. now must i return thither whence i came, and thereupon doff this robe belonging to another, and don mine own again." ioasaph therefore begged the elder to shew himself in his wonted apparel. then did barlaam strip off the mantle that he wore, and lo, a terrible sight met ioasaph's eyes: for all the fashion of his flesh was wasted away, and his skin blackened by the scorching sun, and drawn tight over his bones like an hide stretched over thin canes. and he wore an hair shirt, stiff and rough, from his loins to his knees, and over his shoulders there hung a coat of like sort. but ioasaph, being sore amazed at the hardship of his austere life, and astonished at his excess of endurance, burst into tears, and said to the elder, "since thou art come to deliver me from the slavery of the devil, crown thy good service to me, and 'bring my soul out of prison,' and take me with thee, and let us go hence, that i may be fully ransomed from this deceitful world and then receive the seal of saving baptism, and share with thee this thy marvellous philosophy, and this more than human discipline." but barlaam said unto him, "a certain rich man once reared the fawn of a gazelle; which, when grown up, was impelled by natural desire to long for the desert. so on a day she went out and found an herd of gazelles browsing; and, joining them, she would roam through the glades of the forest, returning at evenfall, but issuing forth at dawn, through the heedlessness of her keepers, to herd with her wild companions. when these removed, to graze further afield, she followed them. but the rich man's servants, when they learned thereof, mounted on horseback, and gave chase, and caught the pet fawn, and brought her home again, and set her in captivity for the time to come. but of the residue of the herd, some they killed, and roughly handled others. even so i fear that it may happen unto us also if thou follow me; that i may be deprived of thy fellowship, and bring many ills to my comrades, and everlasting damnation to thy father. but this is the will of the lord concerning time; thou now indeed must be signed with the seal of holy baptism, and abide in this country, cleaving to all righteousness, and the fulfilling of the commandments of christ; but when the giver of all good things shall give thee opportunity, then shalt thou come to us, and for the remainder of this present life we shall dwell together; and i trust in the lord also that in the world to come we shall not be parted asunder." again ioasaph, in tears, said unto him, "if this be the lord's pleasure, his will be done! for the rest, perfect me in holy baptism. then receive at my hands money and garments for the support and clothing both of thyself and thy companions, and depart to the place of thy monastic life, and the peace of god be thy guard! but cease not to make supplications on my behalf, that i may not fall away from my hope, but may soon be able to reach thee, and in peace profound may enjoy thy ministration." barlaam answered, "nought forbiddeth thee to receive the seal of christ. make thee ready now; and, the lord working with thee, thou shalt be perfected. but as concerning the money that thou didst promise to bestow on my companions, how shall this be, that thou, a poor man, shouldest give alms to the rich? the rich always help the poor, not the needy the wealthy. and the least of all my comrades is incomparably richer than thou. but i trust in the mercies of god that thou too shalt soon be passing rich as never afore: and then thou wilt not be ready to distribute." ioasaph said unto him, "make plain to me this saying; how the least of all thy companions surpasseth me in riches--thou saidest but now that they lived in utter penury, and were pinched by extreme poverty and why thou callest me a poor man, but sayest that, when i shall be passing rich, i, who am ready to distribute, shall be ready to distribute no more." barlaam answered, "i said not that these men were pinched by poverty, but that they plume themselves on their inexhaustible wealth. for to be ever adding money to money, and never to curb the passion for it, but insatiably to covet more and more, betokeneth the extreme of poverty. but those who despise the present for love of the eternal and count it but dung, if only they win christ, who have laid aside all care for meat and raiment and cast that care on the lord, and rejoice in penury as no lover of the world could rejoice, were he rolling in riches, who have laid up for themselves plenteously the riches of virtue, and are fed by the hope of good things without end, may more fitly be termed rich than thou, or any other earthly kingdom. but, god working with thee, thou shalt lay hold on such spiritual abundance that, if thou keep it in safety and ever rightfully desire more, thou shalt never wish to dispend any part of it. this is true abundance: but the mass of material riches will damage rather than benefit its friends. meetly therefore called i it the extreme of poverty, which the lovers of heavenly blessings utterly renounce and eschew, and flee from it, as a man fleeth from an adder. but if i take from thee and so bring back to life that foe, whom my comrades in discipline and battle have slain and trampled under foot, and carry him back to them, and so be the occasion of wars and lusts, then shall i verily be unto them an evil angel, which heaven forfend! "let the same, i pray thee, be thy thoughts about raiment. as for them that have put off the corruption of the old man, and, as far as possible, cast away the robe of disobedience, and put on christ as a coat of salvation and garment of gladness, how shall i again clothe these in their coats of hide, and gird them about with the covering of shame? but be assured that my companions have no need of such things, but are content with their hard life in the desert, and reckon it the truest luxury; and bestow thou on the poor the money and garments which thou promisedst to give unto our monks, and lay up for thyself, for the time to come, treasure that cannot be stolen, and by the orisons of these poor folk make god thine ally; for thus shalt thou employ thy riches as an help toward noble things. then also put on the whole armour of the spirit, having thy loins girt about with truth, and having on the breast-plate of righteousness, and wearing the helmet of salvation, and having thy feet shod with the preparation of the gospel of peace, and taking in thine hands the shield of faith, and the sword of the spirit, which is the word of god. and, being thus excellently armed and guarded on every side, in this confidence go forth to the warfare against ungodliness, until, this put to flight, and its prince, the devil, dashed headlong to the earth, thou be adorned with the crowns of victory from the right hand of thy master, the lord of life." xix. with such like doctrines and saving words did barlaam instruct the king's son, and fit him for holy baptism, charging him to fast and pray, according to custom, several days: and he ceased not to resort unto him, teaching him every article of the catholick faith and expounding him the holy gospel. moreover he interpreted the apostolick exhortations and the sayings of the prophets: for, taught of god, barlaam had alway ready on his lips the old and new scripture; and, being stirred by the spirit, he enlightened his young disciple to see the true knowledge of god. but on the day, whereon the prince should be baptized, he taught him, saying, "behold thou art moved to receive the seal of christ, and be signed with the light of the countenance of the lord: and thou becomest a son of god, and temple of the holy ghost, the giver of life. believe thou therefore in the father, and in the son, and in the holy ghost, the holy and life-giving trinity, glorified in three persons and one godhead, different indeed in persons and personal properties, but united in substance; acknowledging one god unbegotten, the father; and one begotten lord, the son, light of light, very god of very god, begotten before all worlds; for of the good father is begotten the good son, and of the unbegotten light shone forth the everlasting light; and from very life came forth the life-giving spring, and from original might shone forth the might of the son, who is the brightness of his glory and the word in personality, who was in the beginning with god, and god without beginning and without end, by whom all things, visible and invisible, were made: knowing also one holy ghost, which proceedeth from the father, perfect, life-giving and sanctifying god, with the same will, the same power, coeternal and impersonate. thus therefore worship thou the father, and the son, and the holy ghost, in three persons or properties and one godhead. for the godhead is common of the three, and one is their nature, one their substance, one their glory, one their kingdom, one their might, one their authority; but it is common of the son and of the holy ghost that they are of the father; and it is proper of the father that he is unbegotten, and of the son that he is begotten, and of the holy ghost that he proceedeth. "this therefore be thy belief; but seek not to understand the manner of the generation or procession, for it is incomprehensible. in uprightness of heart and without question accept the truth that the father, and the son, and the holy ghost, are in all points one except in the being unbegotten, and begotten, and proceeding; and that the only begotten son, the word of god, and god, for our salvation came down upon earth, by the good pleasure of the father, and, by the operation of the holy ghost, was conceived without seed in the womb of mary the holy virgin and mother of god, by the holy ghost, and was born of her without defilement and was made perfect man and that he is perfect god and perfect man, being of two natures, the godhead and the manhood, and in two natures, endowed with reason, will, activity, and free will, and in all points perfect according to the proper rule and law in either case, that is in the godhead and the manhood, and in one united person. and do thou receive these things without question, never seeking to know the manner, how the son of god emptied himself, and was made man of the blood of the virgin, without seed and without defilement; or what is this meeting in one person of two natures. for by faith we are taught to hold fast those things that have been divinely taught us out of holy scripture; but of the manner we are ignorant, and cannot declare it. "believe thou that the son of god, who, of his tender mercy was made man, took upon him all the affections that are natural to man, and are blameless (he hungered and thirsted and slept and was weary and endured agony in his human nature, and for our transgressions was led to death, was crucified and was buried, and tasted of death, his godhead continuing without suffering and without change; for we attach no sufferings whatsoever to that nature which is free from suffering, but we recognize him as suffering and buried in that nature which he assumed, and in his heavenly glory rising again from the dead, and in immortality ascending into heaven); and believe that he shall come again, with glory, to judge quick and dead, and by the words which himself knoweth, of that diviner body, and to reward every man by his own just standards. for the dead shall rise again, and they that are in their graves shall awake: and they that have kept the commandments of christ, and have departed this life in the true faith shall inherit eternal life, and they, that have died in their sins, and have turned aside from the right faith, shall go away into eternal punishment. believe not that there is any true being or kingdom of evil, nor suppose that it is without beginning, or self-originate, or born of god: out on such an absurdity! but believe rather that it is 'the work of us and the devil, come upon us through our heedlessness, because we were endowed with free-will, and we make our choice, of deliberate purpose, whether it be good or evil. beside this, acknowledge one baptism, by water and the spirit, for the remission of sins. "receive also the communion of the spotless mysteries of christ, believing in truth that they are the body and blood of christ our god, which he hath given unto the faithful for the remission of sins. for in the same night in which he was betrayed he ordained a new testament with his holy disciples and apostles, and through them for all that should believe on him, saying, 'take, eat: this is my body, which is broken for you, for the remission of sins.' after the same manner also he took the cup, and gave unto them saying, 'drink ye all of this: this is my blood, of the new testament, which is shed for you for the remission of sins: this do in remembrance of me.' he then, the word of god, being quick and powerful, and, working all things by his might, maketh and transformeth, through his divine operation, the bread and wine of the oblation into his own body and blood, by the visitation of the holy ghost, for the sanctification and enlightenment of them that with desire partake thereof. "faithfully worship, with honour and reverence, the venerable likeness of the features of the lord, the word of god, who for our sake was made man, thinking to behold in the image thy creator himself. 'for the honour of the image, saith one of the saints, passeth over to the original.' the original is the thing imaged, and from it cometh the derivation. for when we see the drawing in the image, in our mind's eye we pass over to the true form of which it is an image, and devoutly worship the form of him who for our sake was made flesh, not making a god of it, but saluting it as an image of god made flesh, with desire and love of him who for us men emptied himself, and even took the form of a servant. likewise also for this reason we salute the pictures of his undefiled mother, and of all the saints. in the same spirit also faithfully worship and salute the emblem of the life-giving and venerable cross, for the sake of him that hung thereon in the flesh, for the salvation of our race, christ the god and saviour of the world, who gave it to us as the sign of victory over the devil; for the devil trembleth and quaketh at the virtue thereof, and endureth not to behold it. in such doctrines and in such faith shalt thou be baptized, keeping thy faith unwavering and pure of all heresy until thy latest breath. but all teaching and every speech of doctrine contrary to this blameless faith abhor, and consider it an alienation from god. for, as saith the apostle, 'though we, or an angel from heaven, preach any other gospel unto you than that which we have preached unto you, let him be accursed.' for there is none other gospel or none other faith than that which hath been preached by the apostles, and established by the inspired fathers at divers councils, and delivered to the catholick church." when barlaam had thus spoken, and taught the king's son the creed which was set forth at the council of nicaea, he baptized him in the name of the father, and of the son, and of the holy ghost, in the pool of water which was in his garden. and there came upon him the grace of the holy spirit. then did barlaam come back to his chamber, and offer the holy mysteries of the unbloody sacrifice, and communicate him with the undefiled mysteries of christ: and ioasaph rejoiced in spirit, giving thanks to christ his god. then said barlaam unto him, "blessed be the god and father of our lord jesus christ, which according to his abundant mercy hath begotten thee again unto a lively hope, to an inheritance incorruptible and undefiled, that fadeth not away, reserved in heaven in christ jesus our lord by the holy ghost; for to-day thou hast been made free from sin, and hast become the servant of god, and hast received the earnest of everlasting life: thou hast left darkness and put on light, being enrolled in the glorious liberty of the children of god. for he saith, 'as many as received him, to them gave he power to become the sons of god, even to them that believe on his name.' wherefore thou art no more a servant, but a son and an heir of god through jesus christ in the holy ghost. wherefore, beloved, give diligence that thou mayest be found of him without spot and blameless, working that which is good upon the foundation of faith: for faith without works is dead, as also are works without faith; even as i remember to have told thee afore. put off therefore now all malice, and hate all the works of the old man, which are corrupt according to the deceitful lusts; and, as new-born babe, desire to drink the reasonable and sincere milk of the virtues, that thou mayest grow thereby, and attain unto the knowledge of the commandments of the son of god, unto a perfect man, unto the measure of the stature of the fulness of christ: that thou mayest henceforth be no more a child in mind, tossed to and fro, and carried about on the wild and raging waves of thy passions: or rather in malice be a child, but have thy mind settled and made steadfast toward that which is good, and walk worthy of the vocation wherewith thou wast called, in the keeping of the commandments of the lord, casting off and putting far from thee the vanity of thy former conversation, henceforth walking not as the gentiles walk in the vanity of their mind, having their understanding darkened, alienated from the glory of god, in subjection to their lusts and unreasonable affections. but as for thee, even as thou hast approached the living and true god, so walk thou as a child of light; for the fruit of the spirit is in all goodness and righteousness and truth; and no longer destroy by the works of the old man the new man, which thou hast to-day put on. but day by day renew thyself in righteousness and holiness and truth: for this is possible with every man that willeth, as thou hearest that unto them that believe on his name he hath given power to become the sons of god; so that we can no longer say that the acquiring of virtues is impossible for us, for the road is plain and easy. for, though with respect to the buffeting of the body, it hath been called a strait and narrow way, yet through the hope of future blessings is it desirable and divine for such as walk, not as fools but circumspectly, understanding what the will of god is, clad in the whole armour of god to stand in battle against the wiles of the adversary, and with all prayer and supplication watching thereunto, in all patience and hope. therefore, even as thou hast heard from me, and been instructed, and hast laid a sure foundation, do thou abound therein, increasing and advancing, and warring the good warfare, holding faith and a good conscience, witnessed by good works, following after righteousness, godliness, faith, charity, patience, meekness, laying hold on eternal life whereunto thou wast called. but remove far from thee all pleasure and lust of the affections, not only in act and operation, but even in the thoughts of thine heart, that thou mayest present thy soul without blemish to god. for not our actions only, but our thoughts also are recorded, and procure us crowns or punishments: and we know that christ, with the father and the holy ghost, dwelleth in pure hearts. but, just as smoke driveth away bees, so, we learn, do evil imaginations drive out of us the holy spirit's grace. wherefore take good heed hereto, that thou blot out every imagination of sinful passion from thy soul, and plant good thoughts therein, making thyself a temple of the holy ghost. for from imaginations we come also to actual deeds, and every work, advancing from thought and reflection, catcheth at small beginnings, and then, by small increases, arriveth at great endings. "wherefore on no account suffer any evil habit to master thee; but, while it is yet young, pluck the evil root out of thine heart, lest it fasten on and strike root so deep that time and labour be required to uproot it. and the reason that greater sins assault us and get the mastery of our souls is that those which appear to be less, such as wicked thoughts, unseemly words and evil communications, fail to receive proper correction. for as in the case of the body, they that neglect small wounds often bring mortification and death upon themselves, so too with the soul: thus they that overlook little passions and sins bring on greater ones. and the more those greater sins grow on them, the more cloth the soul become accustomed therto and think light of them. for he saith, 'when the wicked cometh to the depth of evil things, he thinketh light of them': and finally, like the hog, that delighteth to wallow in mire, the soul, that hath been buried in evil habits, doth not even perceive the stink of her sin, but rather delighteth and rejoiceth therein, cleaving to wickedness as it were good. and even if at last she issue from the mire and come to herself again, she is delivered only by much labour and sweat from the bondage of those sins, to which she hath by evil custom enslaved herself. "wherefore with all thy might remove thyself far from every evil thought and fancy, and every sinful custom; and school thyself the rather in virtuous deeds, and form the habit of practising them. for if thou labour but a little therein, and have strength to form the habit, at the last, god helping thee, thou shalt advance without labour. for the habit of virtue, taking its quality from the soul, seeing that it hath some natural kinship therewith and claimeth god for an help-mate, becometh hard to alter and exceeding strong; as thou seest, courage and prudence, temperance and righteousness are hard to alter, being deeply seated habits, qualities and activities of the soul. for if the evil affections, not being natural to us, but attacking us from without, be hard to alter when they become habits, how much harder shall it be to shift virtue, which hath been by nature planted in us by our maker, and hath him for an help-mate, if so be, through our brief endeavour, it shall have been rooted in habit in the soul?" xx. "wherefore a practician of virtue once spake to me on this wise: 'after i had made divine meditation my constant habit, and through the practice of it my soul had received her right quality, i once resolved to make trial of her, and put a check upon her, not allowing her to devote herself to her wonted exercises. i felt that she was chafing and fretting, and yearning for meditation with an ungovernable desire, and was utterly unable to incline to any contrary thought. no sooner had i given her the reins than immediately she ran in hot haste to her own task, as saith the prophet, 'like as the hart desireth the water brooks, so longeth my soul after the strong, the living god.' wherefore from all these proofs it is evident that the acquirement of virtue is within our reach, and that we are lords over it, whether we will embrace or else the rather choose sin. they then, that are in the thraldom of wickedness, can hardly be torn away therefrom, as i have already said. "but thou, who hast been delivered therefrom, through the tender mercy of our god, and hast put on christ by the grace of the holy ghost, now transfer thyself wholly to the lord's side, and never open a door to thy passions, but adorn thy soul with the sweet savour and splendour of virtue, and make her a temple of the holy trinity, and to his contemplation see thou devote all the powers of thy mind. he that liveth and converseth with an earthly king is pointed out by all as a right happy man: what happiness then must be his who is privileged to converse and be in spirit with god! behold thou then his likeness alway, and converse with him. how shalt thou converse with god? by drawing near him in prayer and supplication. he that prayeth with exceeding fervent desire and pure heart, his mind estranged from all that is earthly and grovelling, and standeth before god, eye to eye, and presenteth his prayers to him in fear and trembling, such an one hath converse and speaketh with him face to face. "our good master is present everywhere, hearkening to them that approach him in purity and truth, as saith the prophet, 'the eyes of the lord are over the righteous, and his ears are open unto their cry.' for this reason the fathers define prayer as 'the union of man with god,' and call it 'angels' work,' and 'the prelude of gladness to come.' for since they lay down before all things that 'the kingdom of heaven' consisteth in nearness to and contemplation of the holy trinity, and since all the importunity of prayer leadeth the mind thither, prayer is rightly called 'the prelude' and, as it were, the 'fore-glimpse' of that blessedness. but not all prayer is of this nature, but only such prayer as is worthy of the name, which hath god for its teacher, who giveth prayer to him that prayeth; prayer which soareth above all things on earth and entreateth directly with god. "this acquire thou for thyself, and strive to advance thereto, for it is able to exalt thee from earth to heaven. but without preparation and at hap-hazard thou shalt not advance therein. but first purify thy soul from all passion, and cleanse it like a bright and newly cleansed mirrour from every evil thought, and banish far all remembrance of injury and anger, which most of all hindereth our prayers from ascending to god-ward: and from the heart forgive all those that have trespassed against thee, and with alms and charities to the poor lend wings to thy prayer, and so bring it before god with fervent tears. thus praying thou shalt be able to say with blessed david, who, for all that he was king, and distraught with ten thousand cares, yet cleansed his soul from all passions, and could say unto god, 'as for iniquity, i hate and abhor it, but thy law do i love. seven times a day do i praise thee, because of thy righteous judgements. my soul hath kept thy testimonies, and loved them exceedingly. let my complaint come before thee, o lord: give me understanding according to thy word.' "while thou art calling thus, the lord hear thee: while thou art yet speaking, he shall say, 'behold i am here.' if then thou attain to such prayer, blessed shalt thou be; for it is impossible for a man praying and calling upon god with such purpose not to advance daily in that which is good, and soar over all the snares of the enemy. for, as saith one of the saints, 'he that hath made fervent his understanding, and hath lift up his soul and migrated to heaven, and hath thus called upon his master, and remembered his own sins, and spoken concerning the forgiveness of the same, and with hot tears hath besought the lover of mankind to be merciful to him: such an one, i say, by his continuance in such words and considerations, layeth aside every care of this life, and waxeth superior to human passions, and meriteth to be called an associate of god.' than which state what can be more blessed and higher? may the lord vouchsafe thee to attain to this blessedness! "lo i have shown thee the way of the commandments of the lord, and have not shunned to declare unto thee all the counsel of god. and now i, have fulfilled my ministry unto thee. it remaineth that thou gird up the loins of thy mind, obedient to the holy one that hath called thee, and be thou thyself holy in all manner of conversation: for, 'be ye holy: for i am holy,' saith the lord. and the chief prince of the apostles also writeth, saying, 'if ye call on the father, who without respect of persons judgeth according to every man's work, pass the time of your sojourning here in fear; knowing that ye were not redeemed with corruptible things, as silver and gold, from your vain conversation received by tradition from your fathers, but with the precious blood of christ, as of a lamb without blemish and without spot.' "all these things therefore store thou up in thine heart, and remember them unceasingly, ever keeping before thine eyes the fear of god, and his terrible judgement seat, and the splendour of the righteous which they shall receive in the world to come, and the shame of sinners in the depths of darkness, and the frailty and vanity of things present, and the eternity of things hereafter; for, 'all flesh is grass, and all the glory of man as the flower of grass. the grass withereth, and the flower thereof falleth away: but the word of the lord endureth for ever.' meditate upon these things alway and the peace of god be with thee, enlightening and informing thee, and leading thee into the way of salvation, chasing afar out of thy mind every evil wish, and sealing thy soul with the sign of the cross, that no stumbling block of the evil one come nigh thee, but that thou mayest merit, in all fulness of virtue, to obtain the kingdom that is to come, without end or successor, and be illumined with the light of the blessed life-giving trinity, which, in the father, and in the son, and in the holy ghost, is glorified." xxi. with such moral words did the reverend elder exhort the king's son, and then withdrew to his own hospice. but the young prince's servants and tutors marvelled to see the frequency of barlaam's visits to the palace; and one of the chiefest among them, whom, for his fidelity and prudence, the king had set over his son's palace, named zardan, said to the prince, "thou knowest well, sir, how much i dread thy father, and how great is my faith toward him: wherefore he ordered me, for my faithfulness, to wait upon thee. now, when i see this stranger constantly conversing with thee, i fear he may be of the christian religion, toward which thy father hath a deadly hate; and i shall be found subject to the penalty of death. either then make known to thy father this man's business, or in future cease to converse with him. else cast me forth from thy presence, that i be not blameable, and ask thy father to appoint another in my room." the king's son said unto him, "this do, zardan, first of all. sit thou down behind the curtain, and hear his communication with me: and then thus will i tell thee what thou oughtest to do." so when barlaam was about to enter into his presence, ioasaph hid zardan within the curtain, and said to the elder, "sum me up the matter of thy divine teaching, that it may the more firmly be implanted in my heart." barlaam took up his parable and uttered many sayings touching god, and righteousness toward him, and how we must love him alone with all our heart, and with all our soul, and with all our mind, and keep his commandments with fear and love-and how he is the maker of all things visible and invisible. thereon he called to remembrance the creation of the first man, the command given unto him, and his transgression thereof, and the sentence pronounced by the creator for this transgression. then he reckoned up in order the good things wherefrom we excluded ourselves by the disannulling of his commandment. again he made mention of the many grievous misfortunes that unhappily overtook man, after the loss of the blessings. besides this he brought forward god's love toward mankind; how our maker, heedful of our salvation, sent forth teachers and prophets proclaiming the incarnation of the only-begotten. then he spake of the son, his dwelling among men, his deeds of kindness, his miracles, his sufferings for us thankless creatures, his cross, his spear, his voluntary death; finally, of our recovery and recall, our return to our first good estate; after this, of the kingdom of heaven awaiting such as are worthy thereof; of the torment in store for the wicked; the fire that is not quenched, the never ending darkness, the undying worm, and all the other tortures which the slaves of sin have laid up in store for themselves. when he had fully related these matters, he ended his speech with moral instruction, and dwelt much upon purity of life, and utterly condemned the vanity of things present, and proved the utter misery of such as cleave thereto, and finally made an end with prayer. and therewith he prayed for the prince, that he might hold fast the profession of the catholick faith without turning and without wavering, and keep his life blameless and his conversation pure, and so ending with prayer again withdrew to his hospice. but the king's son called zardan forth, and, to try his disposition, said unto him, "thou hast heard what sort of discourses this babbler maketh me, endeavouring to be-jape me with his specious follies, and rob me of this pleasing happiness and enjoyment, to worship a strange god." zardan answered, "why hath it pleased thee, o prince, to prove me that am thy servant? i wot that the words of that man have sunk deep into thine heart; for, otherwise, thou hadst not listened gladly and unceasingly to his words. yea, and we also are not ignorant of this preaching. but from the time when thy father stirred up truceless warfare against the christians, the men have been banished hence, and their teaching is silenced. but if now their doctrine commend itself unto thee, and if thou have the strength to accept its austerity, may thy wishes be guided straight toward the good! but for myself, what shall i do, that am unable to bear the very sight of such austerity, and through fear of the king am divided in soul with pain and anguish? what excuse shall i make, for neglecting his orders, and giving this fellow access unto thee?" the king's son said unto him, "i knew full well that in none other wise could i requite thee worthily for thy much kindness, and therefore have i tasked myself to make known unto thee this more than human good, which doth even exceed the worth of thy good service, that thou mightest know to what end thou wast born, and acknowledge thy creator, and, leaving darkness, run to the light. and i hoped that when thou heardest thereof thou wouldst follow it with irresistible desire. but, as i perceive, i am disappointed of my hope, seeing that thou art listless to that which hath been spoken. but if thou reveal these secrets to the king my father, thou shalt but distress his mind with sorrows and griefs. if thou be well disposed to him, on no account reveal this matter to him until a convenient season." speaking thus, he seemed to be only casting seed upon the water; for wisdom shall not enter into a soul void of understanding. upon the morrow came barlaam and spake of his departure: but ioasaph, unable to bear the separation, was distressed at heart, and his eyes filled with tears. the elder made a long discourse, and adjured him to continue unshaken in good works, and with words of exhortation established his heart, and begged him to send him cheerfully on his way; and at the same time he foretold that they should shortly be at one, never to be parted more. but ioasaph, unable to impose fresh labours on the elder, and to restrain his desire to be on his way, and suspecting moreover that the man zardan might make known his case to the king and subject him to punishment, said unto barlaam, "since it seemeth thee good, my spiritual father, best of teachers and minister of all good to me, to leave me to live in the vanity of the world, while thou journeyest to thy place of spiritual rest, i dare no longer let and hinder thee. depart therefore, with the peace of god for thy guardian, and ever in thy worthy prayers, for the lord's sake, think upon my misery, that i may be enabled to overtake thee, and behold thine honoured face for ever. but fulfil this my one request; since thou couldest not receive aught for thy fellow monks, yet for thyself accept a little money for sustenance, and a cloak to cover thee." but barlaam answered and said unto him, "seeing that i would not receive aught for my brethren (for they need not grasp at the world's chattels which they have chosen to forsake), how shall i acquire for myself that which i have denied them? if the possession of money were a good thing, i should have let them share it before me. but, as i understand that the possession thereof is deadly, i will hazard neither them nor myself in such snares." but when ioasaph had failed once again to persuade barlaam, 'twas but a sign for a second petition, and he made yet another request, that barlaam should not altogether overlook his prayer, nor plunge him in utter despair, but should leave him that stiff shirt and rough mantle, both to remind him of his teacher's austerities and to safe-guard him from all the workings of satan, and should take from him another cloak instead, in order that "when thou seest my gift," said he, "thou mayest bear my lowliness in remembrance." but the elder said, "it is not lawful for me to give thee my old and worn out vestment, and take one that is new, lest i be condemned to receive here the recompense of my slight labour. but, not to thwart thy willing mind, let the garments given me by thee be old ones, nothing different from mine own." so the king's son sought for old shirts of hair, which he gave the aged man, rejoicing to receive his in exchange, deeming them beyond compare more precious than any regal purple. now saintly barlaam, all but ready for to start, spake concerning his journey, and delivered ioasaph his last lesson, saying, "brother beloved, and dearest son, whom i have begotten through the gospel, thou knowest of what king thou art the soldier, and with whom thou hast made thy covenant. this thou must keep steadfastly, and readily perform the duties of thy service, even as thou didst promise the lord of all in the script of thy covenant, with the whole heavenly host present to attest it, and record the terms; which if thou keep, thou shalt be blessed. esteem therefore nought in the present world above god and his blessings. for what terror of this life can be so terrible as the gehenna of eternal fire, that burneth and yet hath no light, that punisheth and never ceaseth? and which of the goodly things of this world can give such gladness as that which the great god giveth to those that love him? whose beauty is unspeakable, and power invincible, and glory everlasting; whose good things, prepared for his friends, exceed beyond comparison all that is seen; which eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither have entered into the heart of man: whereof mayest thou be shown an inheritor, preserved by the mighty hand of god!" here the king's son burst into tears of pain and vexation, unable to bear the parting from a loving father and excellent teacher. "and who," quoth he, "shall fill thy place, o my father? and whom like unto thee shall i find to be shepherd and guide of my soul's salvation? what consolation may i find in my loss of thee? behold thou hast brought me, the wicked and rebellious servant, back to god, and set me in the place of son and heir! thou hast sought me that was lost and astray on the mountain, a prey for every evil beast, and folded me amongst the sheep that had never wandered. thou hast shown me the direct road to truth, bringing me out of darkness and the shadow of death, and, changing the course of my feet from the slippery, deadly, crooked and winding pathway, hast ministered to me great and marvellous blessings, whereof speech would fail to recount the exceeding excellence. great be the gifts that thou receivest at god's hand, on account of me who am small! and may the lord, who in the rewards of his gifts alone overpasseth them that love him, supply that which is lacking to my gratitude!" here barlaam cut short his lamentation, and rose and stood up to pray, lifting up his either hand, and saying, "o god and father of our lord jesu christ, which didst illuminate the things that once were darkened, and bring this visible and invisible creation out of nothing, and didst turn again this thine handiwork, and sufferedst us not to walk after our foolishness, we give thanks to thee and to thy wisdom and might, our lord jesu christ, by whom thou didst make the worlds, didst raise us from our fall, didst forgive us our trespasses, didst restore us from wandering, didst ransom us from captivity, didst quicken us from death by the precious blood of thy son our lord. upon thee i call, and upon thine only begotten son, and upon the holy ghost. look upon this thy spiritual sheep that hath come to be a sacrifice unto thee through me thine unworthy servant, and do thou sanctify his soul with thy might and grace. visit this vine, which was planted by thy holy spirit, and grant it to bear fruit, the fruit of righteousness. strengthen him, and confirm in him thy covenant, and rescue him from the deceit of the devil. with the wisdom of thy good spirit teach him to do thy will, and take not thy succour from him, but grant unto him, with me thine unprofitable servant, to become an inheritor of thine everlasting bliss, because thou art blessed and glorified for ever, amen." when that he had ended his prayer, he turned him round and embraced ioasaph, now a son of his heavenly father, wishing him eternal peace and salvation, and he departed out of the palace, and went his way, rejoicing and giving thanks to god, who had well ordered his steps for good. xxii. after barlaam was gone forth, ioasaph gave himself unto prayer and bitter tears, and said, "o god, haste thee to help me: o lord, make speed to help me, because the poor hath committed himself unto thee; thou art the helper of the orphan. look upon me, and have mercy upon me; thou who willest have all men to be saved and to come unto the knowledge of the truth, save me, and strengthen me, unworthy though i be, to walk the way of thy holy commandments, for i am weak and miserable, and not able to do the thing that is good. but thou art mighty to save me, who sustainest and holdest together all things visible and invisible. suffer me not to walk after the evil will of the flesh, but teach me to do thy will, and preserve me unto thine eternal and blissful life. o father, son, and holy ghost, the consubstantial and undivided godhead, i call upon thee and glorify thee. thou art praised by all creation; thou art glorified by the intelligent powers of the angels for ever and ever. amen." from that time forth he kept himself with all vigilance, seeking to attain purity of soul and body, and living in continency and prayers and intercessions all night long. in the day-time he was often interrupted by the company of his fellows, and at times by a visit from the king, or a call to the king's presence, but the night would then make good the shortcomings of the day, whilst he stood, in prayer and weeping until daybreak, calling upon god. whence in him was fulfilled the saying of the prophet, "in nights raise your hands unto holy things; and bless ye the lord." but zardan observed ioasaph's way of life, and was full of sorrow, and his soul was pierced with grievous anxieties; and he knew not what to do. at the last, worn down with pain, he withdrew to his own home, feigning sickness. when this had come to the knowledge of the king he appointed in his place another of his trusty men to minister unto his son, while he himself, being concerned for zardan's health, sent a physician of reputation, and took great pains that he should be healed. the physician, seeing that zardan was in favour with the king, attended him diligently, and, having right well judged his ease, soon made this report to the king; "i have been unable to discover any root of disease in the man: wherefore i suppose that this weakness is to be ascribed to distress of spirit." but, on hearing his words, the king suspected that his son had been wroth with zardan, and that this slight had caused his retirement. so, wishing to search the matter, he sent zardan word, saying "to-morrow i shall come to see thee, and judge of the malady that hath befallen thee." but zardan, on hearing this message, at daybreak wrapt his cloak around him and went to the king, and entered and fell in obeisance on the ground. the king spake unto him, "why hast thou forced thyself to appear? i was minded to visit thee myself, and so make known to all my friendship for thee." he answered, "my sickness, o king, is no malady common to man; but pain of heart, arising from an anxious and careful mind, hath caused my body to suffer in sympathy. it had been folly in me, being as i am, not to attend as a slave before thy might, but to wait for thy majesty to be troubled to come to me thy servant." then the king enquired after the cause of his despondency; zardan answered and said, "mighty is my peril, and mighty are the penalties that i deserve, and many deaths do i merit, for that i have been guilty of neglect of thy behests, and have brought on thee such sorrow as never before." again said the king, "and of what neglect hast thou been guilty? and what is the dread that encompasseth thee?" "i have been guilty," said he, "of negligence in my close care of my lord thy son. there came an evil man and a sorcerer, and communicated to him the precepts of the christian religion." then he related to the king, point by point, the words which the old man spake with his son, and how gladly ioasaph received his word, and how he had altogether become christ's. moreover he gave the old man's name, saying that it was barlaam. even before then the king had heard tell of barlaam's ways and his extreme severity of life; but, when this came to the ears of the king, he was straightway astonied by the dismay that fell on him, and was filled with anger, and his blood well-nigh curdled at the tidings. immediately he bade call one araches, who held the second rank after the king, and was the chief in all his private councils: besides which the man was learned in star-lore. when he was come, with much despondency and dejection the king told him of that which had happened. he, seeing the king's trouble and confusion of mind, said, "o king, trouble and distress thyself no more. we are not without hope that the prince will yet change for the better: nay, i know for very certain that he will speedily renounce the teaching of this deceiver, and conform to thy will." by these words then did araches set the king in happier frame of mind; and they turned their thoughts to the thorough sifting of the matter. "this, o king," said araches, "do we first of all. make we haste to apprehend that infamous barlaam. if we take him, i am assured that we shall not miss the mark, nor be cheated of our hope. barlaam himself shall be persuaded, either by persuasion or by divers engines of torture, against his will to confess that he hath been talking falsely and at random, and shall persuade my lord, thy son, to cleave to his father's creed. but if we fail to take barlaam, i know of an eremite, nachor by name, in every way like unto him: it is impossible to distinguish the one from the other. he is of our opinion, and was my teacher in studies. i will give him the hint, and go by night, and tell him the full tale. then will we blazon it abroad that barlaam hath been caught; but we shall exhibit nachor, who, calling himself barlaam, shall feign that he is pleading the cause of the christians and standing forth as their champion. then, after much disputation, he shall be worsted and utterly discomfited. the prince, seeing barlaam worsted, and our side victorious, will doubtless join the victors; the more so that he counteth it a great duty to reverence thy majesty, and do thy pleasure. also the man who hath played the part of barlaam shall be converted, and stoutly proclaim that he hath been in error." tim king was delighted with his words, and rocked himself on idle hopes, and thought it excellent counsel. thereupon, learning that barlaam was but lately departed, he was zealous to take him prisoner. he therefore occupied most of the passes with troops and captains, and, himself, mounting his chariot, gave furious chase along the one road of which he was especially suspicious, being minded to surprise barlaam at all costs. but though he toiled by the space of six full days, his labour was but spent in vain. then he himself remained behind in one of his palaces situate in the country, but sent forward araches, with horsemen not a few, as far as the wilderness of senaar, in quest of barlaam. when araches arrived in that place, he threw all the neighbour folk into commotion: and when they constantly affirmed that they had never seen the man, he went forth into the desert places, for to hunt out the faithful. when he had gone through a great tract of desert, and made the circuit of the fells around, and journeyed a-foot over untrodden and pathless ravines, he and his hosts arrived at a plateau. standing thereon, he descried at the foot of the mountain a company of hermits a-walking. straightway at their governor's word of command all his men ran upon them in breathless haste, vying one with another, who should arrive first. when they arrived, they came about the monks like so many dogs, or evil beasts that plague mankind. and they seized these men of reverend mien and mind, that bore on their faces the hall-mark of their hermit life, and haled them before the governor; but the monks showed no sign of alarm, no sign of meanness or sullenness, and spake never a word. their leader and captain bore a wallet of hair, charged with the relics of some holy fathers departed this life. when araches beheld them, but saw no barlaam--for he knew him by sight--he was overwhelmed with grief, and said unto them, "where is that deceiver who hath led the king's son astray?" the bearer of the wallet answered, "he is not amongst us, god forbid! for, driven forth by the grace of christ, he avoideth us; but amongst you he hath his dwelling." the governor said, "thou knowest him then?" "yea," said the hermit, "i know him that is called the deceiver, which is the devil, who dwelleth in your midst and is worshipped and served by you." the governor said, "it is for barlaam that i make search, and i asked thee of him, to learn where he is." the monk answered, "and wherefore then spakest thou in this ambiguous manner, asking about him that had deceived the king's son? if thou wast seeking barlaam, thou shouldest certainly have said, 'where is he that hath turned from error and saved the king's son?' barlaam is our brother and fellow-monk. but now for many days past we have not seen his face." said araches, "show me his abode." the monk answered, "had he wished to see you, he would have come forth to meet you. as for us, it is not lawful to make known to you his hermitage." thereupon the governor waxed full of indignation, and, casting a haughty and savage glance upon him, said, "ye shall die no ordinary death, except ye immediately bring barlaam before me." "what," said the monk, "seest thou in our case that should by its attractions cause us to cling to life, and be afraid of death at thy hands? whereas we should the rather feel grateful to thee for removing us from life in the close adherence to virtue. for we dread, not a little, the uncertainty of the end, knowing not in what state death shall overtake us, lest perchance a slip of the inclination, or some despiteful dealing of the devil, may alter the constancy of our choice, and mis-persuade us to think or do contrary to our covenants with god. wherefore abandon all hope of gaining the knowledge that ye desire, and shrink not to work your will. we shall neither reveal the dwelling-place of our brother, whom god loveth, although we know it, nor shall we betray any other monasteries unbeknown to ye. we will not endure to escape death by such cowardice. nay, liefer would we die honourably, and offer unto god, after the sweats of virtue, the life-blood of courage." that man of sin could not brook this boldness of speech, and was moved to the keenest passion against this high and noble spirit, and afflicted the monks with many stripes and tortures. their courage and nobility won admiration even from that tyrant. but, when after many punishments he failed to persuade them, and none of them consented to discover barlaam, he took and ordered them to be led to the king, bearing with them the wallet with the relics, and to be beaten and shamefully entreated as they went. xxiii. after many days araches brought them to the king, and declared their case. then he set them before the bitterly incensed king: and he, when he saw them, boiled over with fury and was like to one mad. he ordered them to be beaten without mercy, and, when he saw them cruelly mangled with scourges, could scarcely restrain his madness, and order the tormentors to cease. then said he unto them, "why bear ye about these dead men's bones? if ye carry these bones through affection for those men to whom they belong, this very hour i will set you in their company, that ye may meet your lost friends and be duly grateful to me." the captain and leader of that godly band, setting at naught the king's threats, showing no sign of the torment that he had undergone, with free voice and radiant countenance that signified the grace that dwelt in his soul, cried out, "we carry about these clean and holy bones, o king, because we attest in due form our love of those marvellous men to whom they belong: and because we would bring ourselves to remember their wrestlings and lovely conversation, to rouse up ourselves to the like zeal; and because we would catch some vision of the rest and felicity wherein they now live, and thus, as we call them blessed, and provoke one another to emulate them, strive to follow in their footsteps: because moreover, we find thereby that the thought of death, which is right profitable, lendeth wings of zeal to our religious exercises; and lastly, because we derive sanctification from their touch." again said the king, "if the thought of death be profitable, as ye say, why should ye not reach that thought of death by the bones of the bodies that are now your own, and are soon to perish, rather than by the bones of other men which have already perished?" the monk said, "five reasons i gave thee, why we carry about these relics; and thou, making answer to one only, art like to be mocking us. but know thou well that the bones of them, that have already departed this life, bring the thought of death more vividly before us than do the bones of the living. but since thou judgest otherwise, and since the bones of thine own body are to thee a type of death, why dost thou not recollect thy latter end so shortly to come, and set thine house in order, instead of giving up thy soul to all kinds of iniquities, and violently and unmercifully murdering the servants of god and lovers of righteousness, who have done thee no wrong, and seek not to share with thee in present goods, nor are ambitious to rob thee of them?" said the king, "i do well to punish you, ye clever misleaders of the folk, because ye deceive all men, counselling them to abstain from the enjoyments of life; and because, instead of the sweets of life and the allures of appetite and pleasure, ye constrain them to choose the rough, filthy and squalid way, and preach that they should render to jesus the honour due unto the gods. accordingly, in order that the people may not follow your deceits and leave the land desolate, and, forsaking the gods of their fathers, serve another, i think it just to subject you to punishment and death." the monk answered, "if thou art eager that all should partake of the good things of life, why dost thou not distribute dainties and riches equally amongst all? and why is it that the common herd are pinched with poverty, while thou addest ever to thy store by seizing for thyself the goods of others? nay, thou carest not for the weal of the many, but fattenest thine own flesh, to be meat for the worms to feed on. wherefore also thou hast denied the god of all, and called them gods that are not, the inventors of all wickedness, in order that, by wantonness and wickedness after their example, thou mayest gain the title of imitator of the gods. for, as your gods have done, why should not also the men that follow them do? great then is the error that thou hast erred, o king. thou fearest that we should persuade certain of the people to join with us, and revolt from thy hand, and place themselves in that hand that holdeth all things, for thou willest the ministers of thy covetousness to be many, that they may be miserable while thou reapest profit from their toil; just as a man, who keepeth hounds or falcons tamed for hunting, before the hunt may be seen to pet them, but, when they have once seized the quarry, taketh the game with violence out of their mouths. so also thou, willing that there should be many to pay thee tribute and toll from land and water, pretendest to care for their welfare, but in truth bringest on them and above all on thyself eternal ruin; and simply to pile up gold, more worthless than dung or rottenness, thou hast been deluded into taking darkness for light. but recover thy wits from this earthly sleep: open thy sealed eyes, and behold the glory of god that shineth round about us all; and come at length to thyself. for saith the prophet, 'take heed, ye unwise among the people, and, o ye fools, understand at last.' understand thou that there is no god except our god, and no salvation except in him." but the king said, "cease this foolish babbling, and anon discover to me barlaam: else shalt thou taste instruments of torture such as thou hast never tasted before." that noble-minded, great-hearted monk, that lover of the heavenly philosophy, was not moved by the king's threats, but stood unflinching, and said, "we are not commanded to fulfil thy hest, o king, but the orders of our lord and god who teacheth us temperance, that we should be lords over all pleasures and passions, and practise fortitude, so as to endure all toil and all ill-treatment for righteousness' sake. the more perils that thou subjectest us to for the sake of our religion, the more shalt thou be our benefactor. do therefore as thou wilt: for we shall not consent to do aught outside our duty, nor shall we surrender ourselves to sin. deem not that it is a slight sin to betray a fellow-combatant and fellow-soldier into thy hands. nay, but thou shalt not have that scoff to make at us; no, not if thou put us to ten thousand deaths. we be not such cowards as to betray our religion through dread of thy torments, or to disgrace the law divine. so then, if such be thy purpose, make ready every weapon to defend thy claim; for to us to live is christ, and to die for him is the best gain." incensed with anger thereat, the monarch ordered the tongues of these confessors to be rooted out, and their eyes digged out, and likewise their hands and feet lopped off. sentence passed, the henchmen and guards surrounded and mutilated them, without pity and without ruth. and they plucked out their tongues from their mouths with prongs, and severed them with brutal severity, and they digged out their eyes with iron claws, and stretched their arms and legs on the rack, and lopped them off. but those blessed, shamefast, noble-hearted men went bravely to torture like guests to a banquet, exhorting one another to meet death for christ his sake undaunted. in such divers tortures did these holy monks lay down their lives for the lord. they were in all seventeen. by common consent, the pious mind is superior to sufferings, as hath been said by one, but not of us, when narrating the martydom of the aged priest, and of the seven sons with their equally brave mother when contending for the law of their fathers: whose bravery and lofty spirit, however, was equalled by these marvellous fathers and citizens and heirs of hierusalem that is above. xxiv. after the monks had made this godly end, the king bade araches, his chief councillor, now that they had failed of their first plan, to look to the second and summon the man nachor. at dead of night araches repaired to his cave (he dwelt in the desert practising the arts of divination), and told him of their plans, and returned to the king at day-break. again he demanded horsemen, and made as though he went in quest of barlaam. when he was gone forth, and was walking the desert, a man was seen to issue from a ravine. araches gave command to his men to pursue him. they took and brought him before their master. when asked who he was, what his religion and what his name, the man declared himself a christian and gave his name as barlaam, even as he had been instructed. araches made great show of joy, apprehended him and returned quickly to the king, and told his tale and produced his man. then said the king in the hearing of all present, "art thou the devil's workman, barlaam?" but he denied it, saying, "i am god's workman, not the devil's. revile me not; for i am thy debtor to render me much thanks, because i have taught thy son to serve god, and have turned him from error to the true god, and have schooled him in all manner of virtue." feigning anger, again spake the king, "though i ought to allow thee never a word, and give thee no room for defence, but rather do thee to death without question, yet such is my humanity that i will bear with thine effrontery until on a set day i try thy cause. if thou be persuaded by me, thou shalt receive pardon: if not, thou shalt die the death." with these words he delivered him to araches, commanding that he should be most strictly guarded. on the morrow the king removed thence, and came back to his own palace, and it was blazoned abroad that barlaam was captured, so that the king's son heard thereof and was exceeding sad at heart, and could in no wise refrain from weeping. with groans and lamentations he importuned god, and called upon him to succour the aged man. nor did the good god despise his complaint, for he is loving with them that abide him in the day of trouble, and knoweth them that fear him. wherefore in a night-vision he made known the whole plot to the young prince, and strengthened and cheered him for the trial of his righteousness. so, when the prince awoke from sleep, he found that his heart, erstwhile so sore and heavy, was now full of joyaunce, courage and pleasant light. but the king rejoiced at that which he had done and planned, imagining that he was well advised, and showering thanks on araches. but wickedness lied to itself, to use the words of holy david, and righteousness overcame iniquity, completely overthrowing it, and causing the memorial thereof to perish with sound, as our tale in its sequel shall show. after two days the king visited his son's palace. when his son came forth for to meet him, instead of kissing him, as was his wont, the father put on a show of distress and anger, and entered the royal chamber, and there sat down frowning. then calling to his son, he said, "child, what is this report that soundeth in mine ears, and weareth away my soul with despondency? never, i ween, was man more filled with gladness of heart at the birth of a son than was i at thine; and, i trow, never was man so distressed and cruelly treated by child as i have now been by thee. thou hast dishonoured my grey hairs, and taken away the light of mine eyes, and loosed the strength of my sinews; 'for the thing which i greatly feared concerning thee is come upon me, and that which i was afraid of hath come unto me.' thou art become a joy to mine enemies, and a laughing-stock to mine adversaries. with untutored mind and childish judgement thou hast followed the teaching of the deceivers and esteemed the counsel of the malicious above mine; thou hast forsaken the worship of our gods and become the servant of a strange god. child, wherefore hast thou done this? i hoped to bring thee up in all safety, and have thee for the staff and support of mine old age, and leave thee, as is most meet, to succeed me in my kingdom, but thou wast not ashamed to play against me the part of a relentless foe. and shouldst thou not rather have listened to me, and followed my injunctions, than have obeyed the idle and foolish pratings of that crafty old knave, who taught thee to choose a sour life instead of a sweet, and abandon the charms of dalliance, to tread the hard and rough road, which the son of mary ordereth men to go? dost thou not fear the displeasure of the most puissant gods, lest they strike thee with lightning, or quell thee with thunderbolt, or overwhelm thee in the yawning earth, because thou hast rejected and scorned those deities that have so richly blessed us, and adorned our brow with the kingly diadem, and made populous nations to be our servants, that, beyond my hope, in answer to my prayer and supplication, allowed thee to be born, and see the sweet life of day, and hast joined thyself unto the crucified, duped by the hopes of his servants who tell thee fables of worlds to come, and drivel about the resurrection of dead bodies, and bring in a thousand more absurdities to catch fools? but now, dearest son, if thou hast any regard for me thy father, bid a long farewell to these longwinded follies, and come sacrifice to the gracious gods, and let us propitiate them with hecatombs and drink-offerings, that they may grant thee pardon for thy fall; for they be able and strong to bless and to punish. and wouldst thou have an example of that which i say? behold us, who by them have been advanced to this honour, repaying them for their kindness by honouring their worshippers and chastising the runagates." now when the king had ended all this idle parleying, gainsaying and slandering of our religion, and belauding and praising of his idolatry, the saintly young prince saw that the matter needed no further to be hid in a corner, but to be lighted and made plain to the eyes of all; and, full of boldness and courage, he said: "that which i have done, sir, i will not deny. i have fled from darkness and run to the light: i have left error and joined the household of truth: i have deserted the service of devils, and joined the service of christ, the son and word of god the father, at whose decree the world was brought out of nothing; who, after forming man out of clay, breathed into him the breath of life, and set him to live in a paradise of delight, and, when he had broken his commandment and was become subject unto death, and had fallen into the power of the dread ruler of this world, did not fail him, but wrought diligently to bring him back to his former honour. wherefore he, the framer of all creation and maker of our race, became man for our sake, and, coming from a holy virgin's womb; on earth conversed with men: for us ungrateful servants did the master endure death, even the death of the cross, that the tyranny of sin might be destroyed, that the former condemnation might be abolished, that the gates of heaven might be open to us again. thither he hath exalted our nature, and set it on the throne of glory, and granted to them that love him an everlasting kingdom and joys beyond all that tongue can tell, or ear can hear. he is the mighty and only potentate, king of kings and lord of lords, whose might is invincible, and whose lordship is beyond compare, who only is holy and dwelleth in holiness, who with the father and with the holy ghost is glorified; into this faith i have been baptized. and i acknowledge and glorify and worship one god in three persons, of one substance, and not to be confounded, increate and immortal, eternal, infinite, boundless, without body, without passions, immutable, unchangeable, undefinable, the fountain of goodness, righteousness and everlasting light, maker of all things visible and invisible, containing and sustaining all things, provident for all, ruler and king of all. without him was there nothing made, nor without his providence can aught subsist. he is the life of all, the support of all, the light of all, being wholly sweetness and insatiable desire, the summit of aspiration. to leave god, then, who is so good, so wise, so mighty, and to serve impure devils, makers of all sinful lusts, and to assign worship to deaf and dumb images, that are not, and never shall be, were not that the extreme of folly and madness? when was there ever heard utterance or language from their lips? when have they given even the smallest answer to their bedesmen? when have they walked, or received any impression of sense? those of them that stand have never thought of sitting down; and those that sit have never been seen to rise. from an holy man have i learned the ugliness, ill savour and insensibility of these idols, and, moreover, the rottenness and weakness of the devils that operate in them and by them deceive you; and i loathe their wickednesses and, hating them with a perfect hatred, have joined myself to the living and true god, and him will i serve until my latest breath, that my spirit also may return into his hands. when these unspeakable blessings came in my path i rejoiced to be freed from the bondage of evil devils, and to be reclaimed from dire captivity and to be illumined with the light of the countenance of the lord. but my soul was distressed and divided asunder, that thou, my lord and father, didst not share in my blessings. yet i feared the stubbornness of thy mind, and kept my grief to myself, not wishing to anger thee; but, without ceasing, i prayed god to draw thee to himself, and call thee back from the long exile that thou hast imposed upon thyself, a runagate alas! from righteousness, and a servant of all sin and wickedness. but sith thou thyself, o my father, hast brought mine affairs to light, hear the sum of my resolve: i will not be false to my covenant with christ; no, i swear it by him that bought me out of slavery with his own precious blood; even if i must needs die a thousand deaths for his sake, die i will. knowing then how matters now stand with me, prithee, no longer trouble thyself in endeavouring to persuade me to change my good confession. for as it were a thankless and never ending task for thee to try to grasp the heavens with thy hand, or to dry up the waters of the sea, so hard were it for thee to change me. either then now listen to my counsel, and join the household of christ, and so thou shalt gain blessings past man's understanding, and we shall be fellows with one another by faith, even as by nature; or else, be well assured, i shall depart thy sonship, and serve my god with a clear conscience." now when the king heard all these words, he was furiously enraged: and, seized with ungovernable anger, he cried out wrathfully against him, and gnashed his teeth fiercely, like any madman. "and who," said he, "is blameable for all my misfortunes but myself, who have dealt with thee so kindly, and cared for thee as no father before? hence the perversity and contrariness of thy mind, gathering strength by the licence that i gave thee, hath made thy madness to fall upon mine own pate. rightly prophesied the astrologers in thy nativity that thou shouldest prove a knave and villain, an impostor and rebellious son. but now, if thou wilt make void my counsel, and cease to be my son, i will become thine enemy, and entreat thee worse than ever man yet entreated his foes." again said ioasaph, "why, o king, hast thou been kindled to wrath? art thou grieved that i have gained such bliss? why, what father was ever seen to be sorrowful in the prosperity of his son? would not such an one be called an enemy rather than a father? therefore will i no more call thee my father, but will withdraw from thee, as a man fleeth from a snake, if i know that thou grudgest me my salvation, and with violent hand forcest me to destruction. if thou wilt force me, and play the tyrant, as thou hast threatened, be assured that thou shalt gain nought thereby save to exchange the name of father for that of tyrant and murderer. it were easier for thee to attain to the ways of the eagle, and, like him, cleave the air, than to alter my loyalty to christ, and that good confession that i have confessed in him. but be wise, o my father, and shake off the rheum and mist from the eyes of thy mind, lift them aloft and look upward to view the light of my god that enlighteneth all around, and be thyself, at last, enlightened with this light most sweet. why art thou wholly given up to the passions and desires of the flesh, and why is there no looking upward? know thou that all flesh is grass and all the glory of man as the flower of grass. the grass withereth, and the flower thereof falleth away; but the word of my lord, which by the gospel is preached unto all, shall endure for ever. why then dost thou thus madly cling to and embrace that glory, which, like spring flowers, fadeth and perisheth, and to beastly unsavoury wantonness, and to the abominable passions of the belly and the members thereunder, which for a season please the senses of fools, but afterwards make returns more bitter than gall, when the shadows and dreams of this vain life are passed away, and the lovers thereof, and workers of iniquity are imprisoned in the perpetual pain of dark and unquenchable fire, where the worm that sleepeth not gnaweth for ever, and where the fire burneth without ceasing and without quenching through endless ages? and with these sinners alas! thou too shalt be imprisoned and grievously tormented, and shalt bitterly rue thy wicked counsels, and bitterly regret thy days that now are, and think upon my words, but there shall be no advantage in repentance; for in death there is no confession and repentance. but the present is the set time for work: the future for reward. even if the pleasures of the present world were not evanescent and fleeting, but were to endure for ever with their owners, not even thus should any man choose them before the gifts of christ, and the good things that pass man's understanding. soothly, as the sun surpasseth in radiance and brightness the dead of night, even so, and much more so, doth the happiness promised to those that love god excel in glory and magnificence all earthly kinship and glory; and there is utter need for a man to choose the more excellent before the more worthless. and forasmuch as everything here is fleeting and subject to decay, and passeth and vanisheth as a dream, and as a shadow and vision of sleep; and as one may sooner trust the unstable breezes, or the tracks of a ship passing over the waves, than the prosperity of men, what simplicity, nay, what folly and madness it is to choose the corruptible and perishable, the weak things of no worth, rather than the incorruptible and everlasting, the imperishable and endless, and, by the temporal enjoyment of these things, to forfeit the eternal fruition of the happiness to come! wilt thou not understand this, my father? wilt thou not haste past the things which haste pass thee, and attach thyself to that which endureth? wilt thou not prefer a home land to a foreign land, light to darkness, the spirit to the flesh, eternal life to the shadow of death, the indestructible to the fleeting? wilt thou not escape from the grievous bondage of the cruel prince of this world, i mean the evil one, the devil, and become the servant of the good, tenderhearted, and all merciful lord? wilt thou not break away from serving thy many gods, falsely so called, and serve the one, true and living god? though thou hast sinned against him often times by blaspheming him, and often times by slaying his servants with dread torments, yet, i know well, that if thou turn again, he shall in his kindness receive thee, and no more remember thine offences: because he willeth not the death of a sinner but rather that he may turn and live--he, who came down from the unspeakable heights, to seek us that had gone astray: who endured for us cross, scourge and death: who bought with his precious blood us who had been sold in bondage under sin. unto him be glory and praise for ever and ever! amen." the king was overwhelmed with astonishment and anger; with astonishment, at his son's wisdom and unanswerable words; with anger, at the persistence with which he denounced his father's gods, and mocked and ridiculed the whole tenour of his life. he could not admit the glory of his discourse because of the grossness of the darkness within, but natural affection forbad him to punish his son, or evilly to entreat him, and he utterly despaired of moving him by threats. fearing then that, if he argued further with him, his son's boldness and bitter satire of the gods might kindle him to hotter anger, and lead him to do him a mischief, he arose in wrath and withdrew. "would that thou hadst never been born," he cried, "nor hadst come to the light of day, destined as thou weft to be such an one, a blasphemer of the gods, and a renegade from thy father's love and admonition." but thou shalt not alway mock the invincible gods, nor shall their enemies rejoice for long, nor shall these knavish sorceries prevail. for except thou become obedient unto me, and right-minded toward the gods, i will first deliver time to sundry tortures, and then put thee to the cruellest death, dealing with thee not as with a son, but as with an enemy and rebel." xxv. in such wise did the father threaten and wrathfully retire. but the son entered his own bedchamber, and lifted up his eyes to the proper judge of his cause, and cried out of the depth of his heart, "o lord my god, my sweet hope and unerring promise, the sure refuge of them that are wholly given up to thee, with gracious and kindly eye look upon the contrition of my heart, and leave me not, neither forsake me. but, according to thine unerring pledge, be thou with me, thine unworthy and sorry servant. thee i acknowledge and confess, the maker and provider of all creation. therefore do thou thyself enable me to continue in this good confession, until my dying breath: look upon me, and pity me; and stand by and keep me unhurt by any working of satan. look upon me, o king: for my heart is enkindled with longing after thee, and is parched as with burning thirst in the desert, desiring thee, the well of immortality. deliver not to the wild beasts my soul that confesseth thee: forget not the soul of the poor for ever; but grant me that am a sinner throughout my length of days to suffer all things for thy name's sake and in the confession of thee, and to sacrifice my whole self unto thee. for, with thy might working in them, even the feeble shall wax exceeding strong; for thou only art the unconquerable ally and merciful god, whom all creation blesseth, glorified for ever and ever. amen." when he had thus prayed, he felt divine comfort stealing over his heart, and, fulfilled with courage, he spent the whole night in prayer. meanwhile the king communed with araches, his friend, as touching his son's matters, and signified to him his son's sheer audacity and unchangeable resolution. araches gave counsel that he should, in his dealings with him, show the utmost kindness and courtesy, in the hope, perchance, of alluring him by flattering attentions. the day following, the king came to his son, and sat down, and called him to his side. he embraced and kissed him affectionately, coaxing him gently and tenderly, and said, "o my darling and well-beloved son, honour thou thy father's grey hairs: listen to my entreaty, and come, do sacrifice to the gods; thus shalt thou win their favour, and receive at their hands length of days, and the enjoyment of all glory and of an undisputed kingdom, and happiness of every sort. thus shalt thou be well pleasing to me thy father throughout life and be honoured and lauded of all men. it is a great count in the score of praise to be obedient to thy father, especially in a good cause, and to gain the goodwill of the gods. what thinkest thou, my son? is it that i have willingly declined from the right, and chosen to travel on the wrong road: or that, from ignorance and inexperience of the good, i have given myself to destruction? well, if thou thinkest that i willingly prefer the evil to the profitable, and choose death before life, thou seemest to me, son, completely to have missed the goal in judging. dost thou not see to what discomfort and trouble i often expose myself in mine expeditions against my foes, or when i am engaged in divers other business for the public good, not sparing myself even hunger and thirst, if need be, the march on foot, or the couch on the ground? as for riches and money, such is my contempt and scorn thereof, that i have at times ungrudgingly lavished all the stores of my palace, to build mighty temples for the gods, and to adorn them with all manner of splendour, or else to distribute liberal largess to my soldiers. possessing then, as i also do, this contempt of pleasure and this courage in danger, what zeal would i not have devoted to contemning all else, and winning my salvation, had i only found that the religion of the galileans were better than mine own? but, if thou condemnest me for ignorance and inexperience of the good, consider how many sleepless nights i have spent, with some problem before me, oft-times no very important one, giving myself no rest until i had found the clear and most apt solution. seeing then that i reckon that not even the least of these temporal concerns is unworthy of thought until all be fitly completed for the advantage of all and seeing that all (i ween) bear me witness that no man under the sun can search out secrets with more diligence than i, how then could i have considered divine things, that call for worship and serious consideration, unworthy of thought, and not rather have devoted all my zeal and might, all my mind and soul to the investigation thereof, to find out the right and the true? aye, and i have laboriously sought thereafter. many nights and days have i spent thus: many wise and learned men have i called to my council; and with many of them that are called christians have i conversed. by untiring enquiry and ardent search i have discovered the pathway of truth, witnessed by wise men honoured for their intelligence and wit,--that there is none other faith than ours. this is the path that we tread to-day, worshipping the most puissant gods, and holding fast to that sweet and delightsome life, given by them to all men, fulfilled with all manner of pleasure and gladness of heart, which the leaders and priests of the galileans have in their folly rejected; so that, in hope of some other uncertain life, they have readily cast away this sweet light, and all those pleasures which the gods have bestowed on us for enjoyment, and all the while know not what they say, nor whereof they confidently affirm. "but thou, dearest son, obey thy father, who, by diligent and honest search, hath found the real good. lo, i have shown thee that, neither willingly, i no, nor by way of ignorance, have i failed of the good, but rather that i have found and laid hold thereon. and i earnestly desire that thou too shouldest not wander as a fool, but shouldest follow me. have respect then unto thy father. dost thou not know how lovely a thing it is to obey one's father, and please him in all ways? contrariwise, how deadly and cursed a thing it is to provoke a father and despise his commands? as many as have done so, have come to a miserable end. but be not thou, my son, one of their number. rather do that which is well pleasing to thy sire, and so mayest thou obtain all happiness and inherit my blessing and my kingdom!" the high-minded and noble youth listened to his father's windy discourse and foolish opposition, and recognized therein the devices of the crooked serpent, and how standing at his right hand he had prepared a snare for his feet, and was scheming how to overthrow his righteous soul, and hinder him of the prize laid up in store. therefore the prince set before his eyes the commandment of the lord, which saith, "i came not to send peace, but strife and a sword. for i am come to set a man at variance against his father, and a daughter against her mother, and so forth; and "he that loveth father or mother more than me is not worthy of me"; and "whosoever shall deny me before men, him will i also deny before my father which is in heaven." when he had considered these things, and fettered his soul with divine fear, and strengthened it with longing desire and love, right opportunely he remembered the saying of solomon, "there is a time to love, and a time to hate; a time of war, and a time of peace." first of all he prayed in silence, and said, "have mercy of me, lord god, have mercy of me; for my soul trusteth in thee; and under the shadow of thy wings i shall hope till wickedness overpass. i shall cry to the highest god; to god that did well to me," and the rest of the psalm. then said ioasaph to the king, "to honour one's father, and to obey his commands, and to serve him with good will and affection is taught us by the lord of us all, who hath implanted in our hearts this natural affection. but, when loving devotion to our parents bringeth our soul into peril, and separateth her from her maker, then we are commanded, at all costs, to cut it out, and, on no account, to yield to them that would depart us from god, but to hate and avoid them, even if it be our father that issueth the abominable command, or our mother, or our king, or the master of our very life. wherefore it is impossible for me, out of devotion to my father, to forfeit god. so, prithee, trouble not thyself, nor me: but be persuaded, and let us both serve the true and living god, for the objects of thy present worship are idols, the works of men's hands, devoid of breath, and deaf, and give nought but destruction and eternal punishment to their worshippers. "but if this be not thy pleasure, deal with me even as thou wilt: for i am a servant of christ, and neither flatteries nor torments shall separate me from his love, as i told thee yesterday, swearing it by my master's name, and confirming the word with surest oath. but, whereas thou saidest that thou didst neither wilfully do wrong, nor didst fail of the mark through ignorance, but after much laborious enquiry hadst ascertained that it was truly a good thing to worship idols and to be riveted to the pleasures of the passions--that thou art wilfully a wrong doer, i may not say. but this i know full well, and would have thee know, o my father, that thou art surrounded with a dense mist of ignorance, and, walking in darkness that may be felt, seest not even one small glimmer of light. wherefore thou hast lost the right pathway, and wanderest over terrible cliffs and chasms. holding darkness for light, and clinging to death as it were life, thou deemest that thou art well advised, and hast reflected to good effect: but it is not so, not so. the objects of thy veneration are not gods but statues of devils, charged with all their filthy power; nor is the life, which thou pronouncest sweet and pleasant, and thinkest to be full of delight and gladness of heart, such in kind: but the same is abominable, according to the word of truth, and to be abhorred. for for a time it sweeteneth and tickleth the gullet, but afterwards it maketh the risings more bitter than gall (as said my teacher), and is sharper than any two-edged sword. "how shall i describe to thee the evils of this life? i will tell them, and they shall be more in number than the sand. for such life is the fishhook of the devil, baited with beastly pleasure, whereby he deceiveth and draggeth his prey into the depth of hell. whereas the good things, promised by my master, which thou callest 'the hope of some other uncertain life,' are true and unchangeable; they know no end, and are not subject to decay. there is no language that can declare the greatness of yonder glory and delight, of the joy unspeakable, and the everlasting gladness. as thou thyself seest, we all die; and there is no man that shall live and not see death. but one day we shall all rise again, when our lord jesus christ shall come, the son of god, in unspeakable glory and dread power, the only king of kings, and lord of lords; to whom every knee shall bow, of things in heaven, and things in earth, and things under the earth. such terror shall he then inspire that the very powers of heaven shall be shaken: and before him there shall stand in fear thousand thousands, and ten thousand times ten thousand of angels and archangels, and the whole world shall be full of fear and terror. for one of the archangels shall sound with the trump of god, and immediately the heavens shall be rolled together as a scroll; and the earth shall be rent, and shall give up the dead bodies of all men that ever were since the first man adam until that day. and then shall all men that have died since the beginning of the world in the twinkling of an eye stand alive before the judgement seat of the immortal lord, and every man shall give account of his deeds. then shall the righteous shine forth as the sun; they that believed in the father, son and holy ghost, and ended this present life in good works. and how can i describe to thee the glory that shall receive them at that day? for though i compare their brightness and beauty to the light of the sun or to the brightest lightning flash, yet should i fail to do justice to their brightness. eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither have entered into the heart of man, the things which god hath prepared for them that love him, in the kingdom of heaven, in the light which no man can approach unto, in his unspeakable and unending glory. "such joys and such bliss shall the righteous obtain, but they that have denied the only true god and not known their maker and creator, but have worshipped foul devils, and rendered homage to dumb idols, and loved the pleasures of this vain world, and, like swine, wallowed in the mire of sinful lusts, and made their lives a headquarters for all wickedness, shall stand naked and laid bare, downright ashamed and downcast, pitiable in appearance and in fact, set forth for a reproach to all creation. all their life in word, deed and thought shall come before their faces. then, after this bitter disgrace and unbearable reproach, shall they be sentenced to the unquenchable and light-less fire of gehenna, unto the outer darkness, the gnashing of teeth and the venomous worm. this is their portion, this their lot, in the which they shall dwell together in punishment for endless ages, because they rejected the good things offered them in promise, and, for the sake of the pleasure of sin for a season, made choice of eternal punishment. for these reasons--to obtain that unspeakable bliss, to enjoy that ineffable glory, to equal the angels in splendour, and to stand with boldness before the good and most sweetest lord, to escape those bitter and unending punishments and that galling shame--time after time, were it not worth men's while to sacrifice their riches and bodies, nay, even their very lives? who is so cowardly, who so foolish, as not to endure a thousand temporal deaths, to escape eternal and everlasting death, and to inherit life, blissful and imperishable, and to shine in the light of the blessed and life-giving trinity?" xxvi. when the king heard these words, and saw the steadfastness, and unbuxomness of his son, who yielded neither to flattery, nor persuasion, nor threat, he marvelled indeed at the persuasiveness of his speech and his irrefutable answers, and was convicted by his own conscience secretly assuring him that ioasaph spake truly and aright. but he was dragged back by his evil habit and passions, which, from long use, had taken firm grip on him, and held him in as with bit and bridle, and suffered him not to behold the light of truth. so he left no stone unturned, as the saying is, and adhered to his old purpose, determining to put into action the plot which he and araches had between them devised. said he to his son, "although, child, thou oughtest in all points simply to give in to my commands, yet, because thou art stubborn and disobedient, and hast thus stiffly opposed me, insisting that thine own opinion should prevail over all, bid we now farewell to vain insistance, and let persuasion be now our policy. and, forasmuch as barlaam, thy deceiver, is here, my prisoner in iron chains, i will make a great assembly, and summon all our people and your galileans, to one place; and i will charge heralds to proclaim expressly that none of the christians shall fear, but that all shall muster without dread; and we will hold debate together. if your side win, then shall ye and your barlaam gain your desires; but if ye lose, then shall ye with right good will yield yourselves to my commands." but this truly wise and prudent youth, forewarned, by the heavenly vision sent him, of his father's mischief, replied, "the lord's will be done! be it according to thy command! may our good god and lord himself vouchsafe that we wander not from the right way, for my soul trusteth in him, and he shall be merciful unto me." there and then did the king command all, whether idolaters or christians, to assemble. letters were despatched in all quarters: heralds proclaimed it in every village town that no christian need fear any secret surprise, but all might come together without fear, as friends and kindred, for the honest and unrestrained enquiry that should be held with their chief and captain, barlaam. in like manner also he summoned the initiate and the temple-keepers of his idols, and wise men of the chaldeans and indians that were in all his kingdom, beside certain augurs, sorcerers and seers, that they might get the better of the christians. then were there gathered together multitudes that held his loathly religion; but of the christians was there found one only that came to the help of the supposed barlaam. his name was barachias. for of the faithful, some were dead, having fallen victims to the fury of the governors of the cities; and some were hiding in mountains and dens, in dread of the terrors hanging over them; while others had feared the threats of the king, and durst not adventure themselves into the light of day, but were worshippers by night, serving christ in secret, and in no wise boldly confessing him. so noble-hearted barachias came alone to the contest, to help and champion the truth. the king sat down before all on a doom-stool high and exalted, and bade his son sit beside him. he, in reverence and awe of his father, consented not thereto, but sat near him on the ground. there stood the learned in the wisdom which god hath made foolish, whose unwise hearts had gone astray, as saith the apostle; for, "professing themselves to be wise, they became fools, and changed the glory of the uncorruptible god into an image made like to corruptible man, and four-footed beasts, and creeping things." these were assembled for to join argument with the king's son and his fellows, and on them was fulfilled the proverb, "gazelle against lion." the one made the most high his house of defence, and his hope was under the shadow of his wings; while the others trusted in the princes of this world, who are made of none effect, and in the ruler of the darkness of this world, to whom they have subjected themselves miserably and wretchedly. now came on nachor, in the disguise of barlaam; and the king's side were like to reach their goal; but, once again, very different was the ordering of the wise providence of god. when all the company was come, thus spake the king to his orators and philosophers, or rather to the deceivers of his people, and fools at heart, "behold now, there lieth before you a contest, even the mightiest of contests; for one of two things shall befall you. if ye establish our cause, and prove barlaam and his friends to be in error, ye shall have your fill of glory and honour from us and all the senate, and shall be crowned with crowns of victory. but if ye be worsted, in all ignominy ye shall pitiably perish, and all your goods shall be given to the people, that your memorial may be clean blotted out from off the earth. your bodies will i give to be devoured by wild beasts and your children will i deliver to perpetual slavery." when the king had thus spoken, his son said, "a righteous doom hast thou judged this day, o king. the lord establish this thy mind! i too have the same bidding for my teacher." and, turning round to nachor, who was supposed to be barlaam, he said, "thou knowest, barlaam, in what splendour and luxury thou foundest me. with many a speech thou persuadedst me to leave my father's laws and customs, and to serve an unknown god, drawn by the promise of some unspeakable and eternal blessings, to follow thy doctrines and to provoke to anger my father and lord. now therefore consider that thou art weighed in the balance. if thou overcome in the wrestling, and prove that the doctrines, which thou hast taught me, be true, and show that they, that try a fall with us, be in error, thou shalt be magnified as no man heretofore, and shalt be entitled 'herald of truth'; and i will abide in thy doctrine and serve christ, even as thou didst preach, until my dying breath. but if thou be worsted, by foul play or fair, and thus bring shame on me to-day, speedily will i avenge me of mine injury; with mine own hands will i quickly tear out thy heart and thy tongue, and throw them with the residue of thy carcase to be meat for the dogs, that others may be lessoned by thee not to cozen the sons of kings." when nachor heard these words, he was exceeding sorrowful and downcast, seeing himself falling into the destruction that he had made for other, and being drawn into the net that he had laid privily, and feeling the sword entering into his own soul. so he took counsel with himself, and determined rather to take the side of the king's son, and make it to prevail, that he might avoid the danger hanging over him, because the prince was doubtless able to requite him, should he be found to provoke him. but this was all the work of divine providence that was wisely establishing our cause by the mouth of our adversaries. for when these idol-priests and nachor crossed words, like another barlaam, who, of old in the time of balak, when purposing to curse israel, loaded him with manifold blessings, so did nachor mightily resist these unwise and unlearned wise men. there sat the king upon his throne, his son beside him, as we have said. there beside him stood these unwise orators who had whetted their tongues like a sharp sword, to destroy truth, and who (as saith esay) conceive mischief and bring forth iniquity. there were gathered innumerable multitudes, come to view the contest and see which side should carry oft the victory. then one of the orators, the most eminent of all his fellows, said unto nachor, "art thou that barlaam which hath so shamelessly and audaciously blasphemed our gods, and hath enmeshed our king's well beloved son in the net of error, and taught him to serve the crucified?" nachor answered, "i am he, i am barlaam, that, as thou sayest, doth set your gods at nought: but the king's son have i not enmeshed in error; but rather from error have i delivered him, and brought him to the true god." the orator replied, "when the great and marvellous men, who have discovered all knowledge of wisdom, do call them high and immortal gods, and when all the kings and honourable men upon earth do worship and adore them, how waggest thou tongue against them, and, in brief, how durst thou be so mighty brazen-faced? what is the manner of thy proof that the crucified is god, and these be none?" then replied nachor, disdaining even to answer the speaker. he beckoned with his hand to the multitude to keep silence, and opening his mouth, like balaam's ass, spake that which he had not purposed to say, and thus addressed the king. xxvii. "by the providence of god, o king, came i into the world; and when i contemplated heaven and earth and sea, the sun and moon, and the other heavenly bodies, i was led to marvel at their fair order. and, when i beheld the world and all that therein is, how it is moved by law, i understood that he who moveth and sustaineth it is god. that which moveth is ever stronger than that which is moved, and that which sustaineth is stronger than that which is sustained. him therefore i call god, who constructed all things and sustaineth them, without beginning, without end, immortal, without want, above all passions, and failings, such as anger, forgetfulness, ignorance, and the like. by him all things consist. he hath no need of sacrifice, or drink-offering, or of any of the things that we see, but all men have need of him. "now that i have said thus much concerning god, according as he hath granted me to speak concerning himself, come we now to the human race, that we may know which of them partake of truth, and which of error. it is manifiest to us, o king, that there are three races of men in this world: those that are worshippers of them whom ye call gods, and jews, and christians. and again those who serve many gods are divided into three races, chaldeans, greeks and egyptians, for these are to the other nations the leaders and teachers of the service and worship of the gods whose name is legion. let us therefore see which of these hold the truth, and which error. "the chaldeans, which knew not god, went astray after the elements and began to worship the creature rather than their creator, and they made figures of these creatures and called them likenesses of heaven, and earth and sea, of sun and moon, and of the other elements or luminaries. and they enclose them in temples, and worship them under the title of gods, and guard them in safety lest they be stolen by robbers. they have not understood how that which guardeth is ever greater than that which is guarded, and that the maker is greater than the thing that is made; for, if the gods be unable to take care of themselves, how can they take care of others? great then is the error that the chaldeans have erred in worshipping lifeless and useless images. and i am moved to wonder, o king, how they, who are called philosophers among them, fail to understand that even the very elements are corruptible. but if the elements are corruptible and subject to necessity, how are they gods? and if the elements are not gods, how are the images, created to their honour, gods? "come we then, o king, to the elements themselves, that we may prove concerning them, that they are not gods, but corruptible and changeable things, brought out of non-existence by the command of him who is god indeed, who is incorruptible, and unchangeable, and invisible, but yet himself seeth all things, and, as he willeth, changeth and altereth the same. what then must i say about the elements? "they, who ween that the heaven is a god, are in error. for we see it turning and mowing by law, and consisting of many parts, whence also it is called cosmos! now a 'cosmos' is the handiwork of some artificer; and that which is wrought by handiwork hath beginning and end. and the firmament is moved by law together with its luminaries. the stars are borne from sign to sign, each in his order and place: some rise, while others set: and they run their journey according to fixed seasons, to fulfil summer and winter, as it hath been ordained for them by god, nor do they transgress their proper bounds, according to the inexorable law of nature, in common with the heavenly firmament. whence it is evident that the heaven is not a god, but only a work of god. "they again that think that the earth is a goddess have gone astray. we behold it dishonoured, mastered, defiled and rendered useless by mankind. if it be baked by the sun, it becometh dead, for nothing groweth from a potsherd. and again, if it be soaked overmuch, it rotteth, fruit and all. it is trodden under foot of men and the residue of the beasts: it is polluted with the blood of the murdered, it is digged and made a grave for dead bodies. this being so, earth can in no wise be a goddess, but only the work of god for the use of men. "they that think that water is a god have gone astray. it also hath been made for the use of men. it is under their lordship: it is polluted, and perisheth: it is altered by boiling, by dyeing, by congealment, or by being brought to the cleansing of all defilements. wherefore water cannot be a god, but only the work of god. "they that think that fire is a god are in error. it too was made for the use of men. it is subject to their lordship, being carried about from place to place, for the seething and roasting of all manner of meats, yea, and for the burning of dead corpses. moreover, it perisheth in divers ways, when it is quenched by mankind. wherefore fire cannot be a god, but only the work of god. "they that think that the breath of the winds is a goddess are in error. this, as is evident, is subject to another, and hath been prepared by god, for the sake of mankind, for the carriage of ships, and the conveyance of victuals, and for other uses of men, it riseth and falleth according to the ordinance of god. wherefore it is not to be supposed that the breath of the winds is a goddess, but only the work of god. "they that think that the sun is a god are in error. we see him moving and turning by law, and passing from sign to sign, setting and rising, to warm herbs and trees for the use of men, sharing power with the other stars, being much less than the heaven, and falling into eclipse and possessed of no sovranty of his own. wherefore we may not consider that the sun is a god, but only the work of god. "they that think that the moon is a goddess are in error. we behold her moving and turning by law, and passing from sign to sign, setting and rising for the use of men, lesser than the sun, waxing and waning, suffering eclipse. wherefore we do not consider that the moon is a goddess, but only the work of god. "they that think that man is a god are in error. we see man moving by law, growing up, and waxing old, even against his will. now he rejoiceth, now he grieveth, requiring meat and drink and raiment. besides he is passionate, envious, lustful, fickle, and full of failings: and he perisheth in many a way, by the elements, by wild beasts, and by the death that ever awaiteth him. so man cannot be a god, but only the work of god. great then is the error that the chaldeans have erred in following their own lusts; for they worship corruptible elements and dead images, neither do they perceive that they are making gods of these. "now come we to the greeks that we may see whether they have any understanding concerning god. the greeks, then, professing themselves to be wise, fell into greater folly than the chaldeans, alleging the existence of many gods, some male, others female, creators of all passions and sins of every kind. wherefore the greeks, o king, introduced an absurd, foolish and ungodly fashion of talk, calling them gods that were not, according to their own evil passions; that, having these gods for advocates of their wickedness, they might commit adultery, theft, murder and all manner of iniquity. for if their gods did so, how should they not themselves do the like? therefore from these practices of error it came to pass that men suffered frequent wars and slaughters and cruel captivities. but if now we choose to pass in review each one of these gods, what a strange sight shalt thou see! "first and foremost they introduce the god whom they call kronos, and to him they sacrifice their own children, to him who had many sons by rhea, and in a fit of madness ate his own children. and they say that zeus cut off his privy parts, and cast them into the sea, whence, as fable telleth, was born aphrodite. so zeus bound his own father, and cast him into tartarus. dost thou mark the delusion and lasciviousness that they allege against their gods? is it possible then that one who was prisoner and mutilated should be a god? what folly? what man in his senses could admit it? "next they introduce zeus, who, they say, became king of the gods, and would take the shape of animals, that he might defile mortal women. they show him transformed into a bull, for europa; into gold, for danae; into a swan, for leda; into a satyr, for antiope; and into a thunder-bolt, for semele. then of these were born many children, dionysus, zethus, amphion, herakles, apollo, artemis, perseus, castor, helen, polydeukes, minos, rhadamanthos, sarpedon, and the nine daughters whom they call the muses. "in like manner they introduce the story of ganymede. and so befel it, o king, that men imitated all these things, and became adulterers, and defilers of themselves with mankind, and doers of other monstrous deeds, in imitation of their god. how then can an adulterer, one that defileth himself by unnatural lust, a slayer of his father be a god? "with zeus also they represent one hephaestus as a god, and him lame, holding hammer and fire-tongs, and working as a coppersmith for hire. so it appeareth that he is needy. but it is impossible for one who is lame and wanteth men's aid to be a god. "after him, they represent as a god hermes, a lusty fellow, a thief, and a covetous, a sorcerer, bowlegged, and an interpreter of speech. it is impossible for such an one to be a god. "they also exhibit asklepius as god, a physician, a maker of medicines, a compounder of plasters for his livelihood (for he is a needy wight), and in the end, they say that he was struck by zeus with a thunder-bolt, because of tyndareus, son of lakedaemon, and thus perished. now if asklepius, though a god, when struck by a thunder-bolt, could not help himself, how can he help others? "ares is represented as a warlike god, emulous, and covetous of sheep and other things. but in the end they say he was taken in adultery with aphrodite by the child eros and hephaestus and was bound by them. how then can the covetous, the warrior, the bondman and adulterer be a god? "dionysus they show as a god, who leadeth nightly orgies, and teacheth drunkenness, and carrieth off his neighbours' wives, a madman and an exile, finally slain by the titans. if then dionysus was slain and unable to help himself, nay, further was a madman, a drunkard, and vagabond, how could he be a god? "herakles, too, is represented as drunken and mad, as slaying his own children, then consuming with fire and thus dying. how then could a drunkard and slayer of his own children, burnt to death by fire, be a god? or how can he help others who could not help himself? "apollo they represent as an emulous god, holding bow and quiver, and, at times, harp and flute, and prophesying to men for pay. soothly he is needy: but one that is needy and emulous and a minstrel cannot be a god. "artemis, his sister, they represent as an huntress, with bow and quiver, ranging the mountains alone, with her hounds, in chase of stag or boar. how can such an one, that is an huntress and a ranger with hounds, be a goddess? "of aphrodite, adulteress though she be, they say that she is herself a goddess. once she had for leman ares, once anchises, once adonis, whose death she lamenteth, seeking her lost lover. they say that she even descended into hades to ransom adonis from persephone. didst thou, o king, ever see madness greater than this? they represent this weeping and wailing adulteress as a goddess. "adonis they show as an hunter-god, violently killed by a boar-tusk, and unable to help his own distress. how then shall he take thought for mankind, he the adulterer, the hunter who died a violent death? "all such tales, and many like them, and many wicked tales more shameful still, have the greeks introduced, o king, concerning their gods; tales, whereof it is unlawful to speak, or even to have them in remembrance. hence men, taking occasion from their gods, wrought all lawlessness, lasciviousness and ungodliness, polluting earth and air with their horrible deeds. "but the egyptians, more fatuous and foolish than they, have erred worse than any other nation. they were not satisfied with the idols worshipped by the chaldeans and greeks, but further introduced as gods brute beasts of land and water, and herbs and trees, and were defiled in all madness and lasciviousness worse than all people upon earth. from the beginning they worshipped isis, which had for her brother and husband that osiris which was slain by his brother typhon. and for this reason isis fled with horus her son to byblos in syria, seeking osiris and bitterly wailing, until horus was grown up and killed typhon. isis then was not able to help her own brother and husband; nor had osiris, who was slain by typhon, power to succour himself; nor had typhon, who killed his brother and was himself destroyed by horus and isis, any resource to save himself from death. and yet, although famous for all these misadventures, these be they that were considered gods by the senseless egyptians. "the same people, not content therewith, nor with the rest of the idols of the heathen, also introduced brute beasts as gods. some of them worshipped the sheep, some the goat, and others the calf and the hog; while certain of them worshipped the raven, the kite, the vulture, and the eagle. others again worshipped the crocodile, and some the cat and dog, the wolf and ape, the dragon and serpent, and others the onion, garlic and thorns, and every other creature. and the poor fools do not perceive, concerning these things, that they have no power at all. though they see their gods being devoured, burnt and killed by other men, and rotting away, they cannot grasp the fact that they are no gods. "great, then, is the error that the egyptians, the chaldeans, and the greeks have erred in introducing such gods as these, and making images thereof, and deifying dumb and senseless idols. i marvel how, when they behold their gods being sawn and chiselled by workmen's axes, growing old and dissolving through lapse of time, and molten in the pot, they never reflected concerning them that they are no gods. for when these skill not to work their own salvation, how can they take care of mankind? nay, even the poets and philosophers among the chaldeans, greeks and egyptians, although by their poems and histories they desired to glorify their people's gods, yet they rather revealed and exposed their shame before all men. if the body of a man, consisting of many parts, loseth not any of its proper members, but, having an unbroken union with all its members, is in harmony with itself, how in the nature of god shall there be such warfare and discord? for if the nature of the gods were one, then ought not one god to persecute, slay or injure another. but if the gods were persecuted by other gods, and slain and plundered and killed with thunder-stones, then is their nature no longer one, but their wills are divided, and are all mischievous, so that not one among them is god. so it is manifest, o king, that all this history of the nature of the gods is error. "furthermore, how do the wise and eloquent among the greeks fail to perceive that law-givers themselves are judged by their own laws? for if their laws are just, then are their gods assuredly unjust, in that they have offended against law by murders, sorceries, adulteries, thefts and unnatural crimes. but, if they did well in so doing, then are their laws unjust, seeing that they have been framed in condemnation of the gods. but now the laws are good and just, because they encourage good and forbid evil; whereas the deeds of their gods offend against law. their gods then are offenders against law; and all that introduce such gods as these are worthy of death and are ungodly. if the stories of the gods be myths, then are the gods mere words: but if the stories be natural, then are they that wrought or endured such things no longer gods: if the stories be allegorical, then are the gods myths and nothing else. therefore it hath been proven, o king, that all these idols, belonging to many gods, are works of error and destruction. so it is not meet to call those gods that are seen, but cannot see: but it is right to worship as god him who is unseen and is the maker of all mankind. "come we now, o king, to the jews, that we may see what they also think concerning god. the jews are the descendants of abraham, isaac and jacob, and went once to sojourn in egypt. from thence god brought them out with a mighty hand and stretched out arm by moses their lawgiver; and with many miracles and signs made he known unto them his power. but, like the rest, these proved ungrateful and unprofitable, and often worshipped images of the heathen, and killed the prophets and righteous men that were sent unto them. then, when it pleased the son of god to come on earth, they did shamefully entreat him and deliver him to pilate the roman governor, and condemn him to the cross, regardless of his benefits and the countless miracles that he had worked amongst them. wherefore by their own lawlessness they perished. for though to this day they worship the one omnipotent god, yet it is not according unto knowledge; for they deny christ the son of god, and are like the heathen, although they seem to approach the truth from which they have estranged themselves. so much for the jews. "as for the christians, they trace their line from the lord jesus christ. he is confessed to be the son of the most high god, who came down from heaven, by the holy ghost, for the salvation of mankind, and was born of a pure virgin, without seed of man, and without defilement, and took flesh, and appeared among men, that he might recall them from the error of worshipping many gods. when he had accomplished his marvellous dispensation, of his own free will by a mighty dispensation he tasted of death upon the cross. but after three days he came to life again, and ascended into the heavens, the glory of whose coming thou mayest learn, o king, by the reading of the holy scripture, which the christians call the gospel, shouldst thou meet therewith. this jesus had twelve disciples, who, after his ascent into the heavens, went out into all the kingdoms of the world, telling of his greatness. even so one of them visited our coasts, preaching the doctrine of truth; whence they who still serve the righteousness of his preaching are called christians. and these are they who, above all the nations of the earth, have found the truth: for they acknowledge god the creator and maker of all things in the only begotten son, and in the holy ghost, and other god than him they worship none. they have the commandments of the lord jesus christ himself engraven on their hearts, and these they observe, looking for the resurrection of the dead and the life of the world to come. they neither commit adultery nor fornication; nor do they bear false witness, nor covet other men's goods: they honour father and mother, and love their neighbours: they give right judgement. they do not unto other that which they would not have done unto themselves. they comfort such as wrong them, and make friends of them: they labour to do good to their enemies: they are meek and gentle. they refrain themselves from all unlawful intercourse and all uncleanness. they despise not the widow, and grieve not the orphan. he that hath distributeth liberally to him that hath not. if they see a stranger, they bring him under their roof, and rejoice over him, as it were their own brother: for they call themselves brethren, not after the flesh, but after the spirit. for christ his sake they are ready to lay down their lives: they keep his commandments faithfully, living righteous and holy lives, as the lord their god commanded them, giving him thanks every hour, for meat and drink and every blessing. verily, then, this is the way of truth which leadeth its wayfarers unto the eternal kingdom promised by christ in the life to come. "and that thou mayest know, o king, that i speak nought of myself, look thou into the writings of the christians, and thou shalt find that i speak nothing but the truth. well, therefore, hath thy son understood it, and rightly hath he been taught to serve the living god, and to be saved for the world to come. great and marvellous are the things spoken and wrought by the christians, because they speak not the words of men but the words of god. but all other nations are deceived, and deceive themselves. walking in darkness they stagger one against another like drunken men. this is the end of my speech spoken unto thee, o king, prompted by the truth that is in my mind. wherefore let thy foolish wise-acres refrain from babbling idly against the lord; for it is profitable to you to worship god the creator, and hearken to his incorruptible sayings, in order that ye may escape judgement and punishment, and be found partakers of deathless life." xxviii. when nachor had fully delivered this oration, the king changed countenance for very anger, but his orators and temple-keepers stood speechless, having nothing but a few weak and rotten shreds of argument in reply. but the king's son rejoiced in spirit and with glad countenance magnified the lord, who had made a path, where no path was, for them tat trusted in him, who by the mouth of a foeman and enemy was establishing the truth; and the leader of error had proved a defender of the right cause. but the king, although furiously enraged with nachor, was nevertheless unable to do him any mischief, because of the proclamation already read before all, wherein he urged him to plead without fear in behalf of the christians. so he himself made answer in many words, and by dark speeches hinted that nachor should relax his resistance, and be worsted by the argument of the orators. but nachor the more mightily prevailed, tearing to pieces all their propositions and conclusions and exposing the fallacy of their error. after the debate had been prolonged till well-nigh eventide, the king dismissed the assembly, making as though he would renew the discussion on the morrow. then said ioasaph to the king his father, "as at the beginning, sir, thou commandedst that the trial should be just, so too crown the end thereof with justice, by doing one or other of these two things. either allow my teacher to tarry with me to-night, that we may take counsel together as touching those things which we must say unto our adversaries tomorrow: and do thou in turn take thine advisers unto thee, and duly practise yourselves as ye will. or else deliver thy counsellors to me this night, and take mine to thyself. but if both sides be with thee, mine advocate in tribulation and fear, but thine in joy and refreshment, me thinketh it is not a fair trial, but a tyrannical misuse of power, and a breaking of the covenants." the king, compelled to yield by the gracefulness of this speech took his wise men and priests to himself, and delivered nachor to his son, still having hopes of him and thinking fit to keep his agreement. the king's son, therefore, departed unto his own palace, like a conqueror in the olympic games, and with him went nachor. when alone, the prince called him and said, "think not that i am ignorant of thy tale, for i wot, of a surety, that thou art not saintly barlaam, but nachor the astrologer; and i marvel how it seemed thee good to act this play, and to think that thou couldst so dull my sight at mid-day, that i should mistake a wolf for a sheep. but well sung is the proverb, 'the heart of a fool will conceive folly.' so this your device and counsel was stale and utterly senseless; but the work that thou hast accomplished is full of wisdom. wherefore, rejoice, nachor, and be exceeding glad. i render thee many thanks, that thou hast been to-day advocate of the truth, and hast not polluted thy lips with foul words and crafty simulation, but hast rather cleansed them from many defilements, and thoroughly proven the error of the gods, as they be wrongly called, and hast established the truth of the christian faith. i have been zealous to bring thee hither with me for two reasons; that the king might not privily seize and punish thee, because thou spakest not after his heart, and next that i might recompense thee for the favour that thou hast done me to-day. and what is my recompense for thee? to show thee how to turn from the evil and slippery road which thou hast trodden until now, and to journey along the straight and saving pathway which thou hast avoided, not in ignorance, but by wilful wrongdoing, throwing thyself into depths and precipices of iniquity. understand then, nachor, man of understanding as thou art, and be thou zealous to gain christ only, and the life that is hid with him, and despise this fleeting and corruptible world. thou shalt not live for ever, but, being mortal, shalt depart hence ere long, even as all that have been before thee. and wo betide thee, if, with the heavy load of sin on thy shoulders, thou depart thither where there is righteous judgement and recompense for thy works, and cast it not off, while it is easy to rid thyself thereof!" pricked at heart by these words, spake nachor, "well said! sir prince, well said! i do know the true and very god, by whom all things were made, and i wot of the judgement to come, having heard thereof from many texts of the scriptures. but evil habit and the insolence of the ancient supplanter hath blinded the eyes of my heart, and shed a thick darkness over my reason. but now, at thy word, i will cast away the veil of gloom, and run unto the light of the countenance of the lord. may be, he will have mercy on me, and will open a door of repentance to his wicked and rebellious servant, even if it seem impossible to me that my sins, which are heavier than the sand, be forgiven; sins, which, wittingly or unwittingly, i have sinned from childhood upwards to this my hoary age." when the king's son heard these words, immediately he arose, and his heart waxed warm, and he began to try to raise nachor's courage which was drooping to despair, and to confirm it in the faith of christ, saying, "let no doubt about this, nachor, find place in thy mind. for it is written, god is able of these very stones to raise up children unto abraham. what meaneth this (as father barlaam said) except that men beyond hope, stained with all manner of wickedness, can be saved, and become servants of christ, who, in the exceeding greatness of his love toward mankind, hath opened the gates of heaven to all that turn, barring the way of salvation to none, and receiving with compassion them that repent? wherefore to all that have entered the vineyard at the first, third, sixth, ninth or eleventh hour there is apportioned equal pay, as saith the holy gospel: so that even if, until this present time, thou hast waxen old in thy sins, yet if thou draw nigh with a fervent heart, thou shalt gain the same rewards as they who have laboured from their youth upwards." with these and many other words did that saintly youth speak of repentance to that aged sinner nachor, promising him that christ was merciful, and pledging him forgiveness, and satisfying him that the good god is alway ready to receive the penitent, and with these words, as it were with ointments, did he mollify that ailing soul and give it perfect health. nachor at once said unto him, "o prince, more noble in soul even than in outward show, well instructed in these marvellous mysteries, mayst thou continue in thy good confession until the end, and may neither time nor tide ever pluck it out of thine heart! for myself, i will depart straightway in search of my salvation, and will by penance pacify that god whom i have angered: for, except thou will it, i shall see the king's face no more." then was the prince exceeding glad, and joyfully heard his saying. and he embraced and kissed him affectionately; and, when he had prayed earnestly to god, he sent him forth from the palace. so nachor stepped forth with a contrite heart, and went bounding into the depths of the desert, like as doth an hart, and came to a den belonging to a monk that had attained to the dignity of the priesthood, and was hiding there for fear of the pressing danger. with a right warm heart knelt nachor down before him, and washed his feet with his tears, like the harlot of old, and craved holy baptism. the priest, full of heavenly grace, was passing glad, and did at once begin to instruct him, as the custom is, and after many days, perfected him with baptism in the name of the father, and of the son, and of the holy ghost. and nachor abode with him, always repentant of his sins, and blessing that god who never willeth that ally should perish, but receiveth all that turn again unto him, and lovingly accepteth the penitent. now on the morrow when the king heard what had befallen nachor, he despaired of the hopes that he once had in him: and, seeing those wise and foolish orators of his mightily discomfited, he was at his wits' end. them he visited with terrible outrage and dishonour, scourging some severely with whips of oxhide, besmearing their eyes with soot, and casting them away from his presence. he himself began to condemn the impotence of the gods falsely so called, although as yet he refused to look fully at the light of christ, for the dense cloud of darkness, that enveloped him, still bound the eyes of his heart. howbeit he no longer honoured his temple-keepers, nor would he keep feasts, nor make drink offerings to his idols, but his mind was tossed between two opinions. on the one hand, he poured scorn on the impotence of his gods; on the other, he dreaded the strictness of the profession of the gospel, and was hardly to be torn from his evil ways, being completely in slavery to the pleasures of the body, and like a captive drawn towards sinful lusts, and being drunken, as saith esay, but not with wine, and led as it were with the bridle of evil habit. while the king was thus wrestling with two opinions, his noble and truly royal-hearted son dwelt at peace in his palace, proving to all men by his deeds the nobility, order and steadfastness of his nature. theatres, horse-races, riding to hounds, and all the vain pleasures of youth, the baits that take foolish souls, were reckoned by him as nothing worth. but he hung wholly on the commands of christ for whom he yearned, his heart being wounded with love divine. for him he longed, who alone is to be longed for, who is all sweetness and desire and aspiration insatiable. now, when he came to think upon his teacher barlaam, and as in a mirror saw his life, his soul was enchanted with love, and he much occupied himself a-thinking how he might see him; and ever carrying his sayings in his heart, he was like the tree in the psalms planted by the river side, unceasingly watered, and bringing forth unto the lords his fruits in due season. many were the souls that he delivered from the snares of the devil, and brought safely unto christ; for many resorted unto him, and profited by his wholesome words. and not a few left the way of error, and ran toward the word of salvation; while others bade a long farewell to the concerns of the world, and came to the wrestling-school of the monastic life. he himself spent his time in prayers and fastings, and would often offer up this prayer, "o lord, my lord and king, in whom i have trusted, to whom i have fled and been delivered from my error, render thou due recompense to barlaam thy servant, because when i was in error he pointed thee to me, who art the way of truth and life. forbid me not to behold once more that angel in bodily shape, of whom the world is not worthy, but grant me in his company to finish the residue of my life, that, treading in the footsteps of his conversation, i may be well-pleasing to thee my god and lord." xxix. now about the same time there was in that city a public assembly in honour of the false gods, and the king must needs be present at the feast, and grace it with lavish sacrifices. but the temple-keepers, seeing that he was careless and lukewarm with regard to their worship, feared that he might neglect to be present in their temple, and that they might lose the royal largess, and the rest of their revenues. so they arose, and withdrew to a cavern situate in the depth of the desert, where dwelt a man who busied himself with magical arts, and was a fervent champion of the error of idolatry. theudas was his name. him the king honoured exceedingly, and counted him his friend and teacher, because, he said, it was by the guidance of his prophecies that his kingdom ever prospered. so these idol-priests, that were no priests, came to him, and appealed to him for help, and made known to him the evil opinion of their gods which was growing on their king, and all that the king's son had done, and all the eloquent discourse that nachor had held against them. and they said, "except thou come thyself to our succour, gone is all hope! and lost is all the reverence of the gods. thou only art left to be our comfort in this misfortune, and upon thee we fix our hopes." so forth marched theudas, in company with his satanic host; and he armed himself against the truth, invoking many of his evil spirits, who knew how to lend ready aid for evil ends, and whom he alway used for his ministers; and with these allies he came to the king. when his arrival had been announced to the king, and he had entered in, with a palm-staff in his hand and a sheep-skin girt about his loins, the king arose from his throne, and met and welcomed him; and, fetching a seat, he made him to sit down beside him. then spake theudas unto the king, "o king, live for ever under the shelter of the favour of the most puissant gods! i have heard that thou hast foughten a mighty fight with the galileans, and hast been crowned with right glorious diadems of victory. wherefore i am come, that we may celebrate together a feast of thanksgiving, and sacrifice to the immortal gods young men in the bloom of youth and well-favoured damsels, and eke offer them an hecatomb of bullocks and herds of beasts, that we may have them from henceforth for our allies invincible, making plain our path of life before us." hereto the king made answer, "we have not conquered, aged sir, we have not conquered: nay, rather have we been defeated in open fight. they that were for us turned suddenly against us. they found our host a wild, half-drunken, feeble folk, and utterly overthrew it. but now, if there be with thee any power and strength to help our fallen religion and set it up again, declare it." theudas replied in this wise, "dread not, o king, the oppositions and vain babblings of the galileans: for of what worth against reasonable and sensible men are the arguments that they use? these methinks shall be more easily overthrown than a leaf shaken with the wind. they shall not endure to face me, far less join argument, or come to propositions and oppositions with me. but, in order that the coming contest and all our wishes may prosper, and that our matters may run smoothly with the stream, adorn thou with thy presence this public festival, and gird on for thy strong sword the favour of the gods, and well befall thee!" when the mighty in wickedness had thus boasted himself and thought of mischief all the day long (let david bear his part in our chorus), and when, as saith esay, he had given his neighbour a drink of turbid dregs, by the help of the evil spirits his comrades he made the king utterly to forget the thoughts that inclined him to salvation, and caused him again to cleave to his wonted ways. then the king despatched letters hither and thither, that all men should gather together to this loathsome assembly. then mightest thou have seen multitudes streaming in, and bringing with them sheep and oxen and divers kinds of beasts. so when all were assembled, the king arose, with that deceiver theudas, and proceeded to the temple, bringing one hundred and twenty bullocks and many animals for sacrifice. and they celebrated their accursed feast till the city resounded with the cry of the brute beasts and the very air was polluted with the reek of sacrifice. this done, when the spirits of wickedness had greatly vaunted them over theudas' victory, and when the temple-keepers had rendered him thanks, the king went up again unto his palace, and said milo theudas, "behold now, as thou badest us, we have spared no pains over the splendour of this gathering and the lavishness of the sacrifice. now, therefore, it is time for thee to fulfil thy promises, and to deliver from the error of the christians my son that hath rebelled against our religion, and to reconcile him to our gracious gods. for, though i have left no device and deed untried, yet have i found no remedy for the mischief, but i perceive that his will is stronger than all. when i have dealt gently and kindly with him, i have found that he payeth me no regard whatsoever. when i have treated him harshly and severely, i have seen him driven the quicker to desperation. to thy wisdom for the future i leave the care of this calamity that hath befallen me. if then i be delivered from this trouble by thy means, and once more behold my son worshipping my gods with me, and enjoying the gratification of this life of pleasure, and this royal estate, i will set up unto thee a golden statue, and make thee to receive divine honours from all men for all time to come." hereupon theudas, bowing an attentive ear to the evil one, and learning from him the secret of his evil and deadly counsel, became himself the devil's tongue and mouthpiece, and spake unto the king, "if thou wilt get the better of thy son, and make his opposition vain, i have discovered a plan, which he shall in no wise be able to resist, but his hard and obdurate mind shall melt quicker than wax before the hottest fire." the king, seeing this foolish fellow swelling with empty pride, immediately grew merry and joyful, hoping that the unbridled and boastful tongue would get the mastery of that divinely instructed and philosophic soul. "and what is the plan?" he asked. then began theudas to weave his web. he made his villainy sharp as any razor and did cunningly prepare his drugs. now behold this malicious device and suggestion of the evil one. "remove, o king," said he, "all thy son's waiting men and servants far from him, and order that comely damsels, of exceeding beauty, and bedizened to be the more winsome, be continually with him and minister to him, and be his companions day and night. for myself, i will send him one of the spirits told off for such duties, and i will thus kindle all the more fiercely the coals of sensual desire. after that he hath once only had intercourse with but one of these women, if all go not as thou wilt, then disdain me for ever, as unprofitable, and worthy not of honour but of dire punishment. for there is nothing like the sight of women to allure and enchant the minds of men. listen to a story that beareth witness to my word." xxx. "a certain king was grieved and exceeding sad at heart, because that he had no male issue, deeming this no small misfortune. while he was in this condition, there was born to him a son, and the king's soul was filled with joy thereat. then they that were learned amongst his physicians told him that, if for the first twelve years the boy saw the sun or fire, he should entirely lose his sight, for this was proved by the condition of his eyes. hearing this, the king, they say, caused a little house, full of dark chambers, to be hewn out of the rock, and therein enclosed his child together with the men that nursed him, and, until the twelve years were past, never suffered him to see the least ray of light. after the fulfilment of the twelve years, the king brought forth from his little house his son that had never seen a single object, and ordered his waiting men to show the boy everything after his kind; men in one place, women in another; elsewhere gold and silver; in another place, pearls and precious stones, fine and ornamental vestments, splendid chariots with horses from the royal stables, with golden bridles and purple caparisons, mounted by armed soldiers; also droves of oxen and flocks of sheep. in brief, row after row, they showed the boy everything. now, as he asked what each ox these was called, the king's esquires and guards made known unto him each by name: but, when he desired to learn what women were called, the king's spearman, they say, wittily replied that they were called, "devils that deceive men." but the boy's heart was smitten with the love of these above all the rest. so, when they had gone round everywhere and brought him again unto the king, the king asked, which of all these sights had pleased him most. "what," answered the boy, "but the devils that deceive men? nothing that i have seen to-day hath fired my heart with such love as these." the king was astonished at the saying of the boy, to think how masterful a thing the love of women is. therefore think not to subdue thy son in any other way than this." the king heard this tale gladly; and there were brought before him some chosen damsels, young and exceeding beautiful. these he bedizened with dazzling ornaments and trained in all winsome ways: and then he turned out of the palace all his son's squires and serving men, and set these women in their stead. these flocked around the prince, embraced him, and provoked him to filthy wantonness, by their walk and talk inviting him to dalliaunce. besides these, he had no man at whom to look, or with whom to converse or break his fast, for these damsels were his all. thus did the king. but theudas went home to his evil den, and, dipping into his books that had virtue to work such magic, he called up one of his wicked spirits and sent him forth, for to battle with the soldier of the army of christ. but the wretch little knew what laughter he should create against himself, and to what shame he should be put, with the whole devilish troop under him. so the evil spirit, taking to him other spirits more wicked than himself, entered the bed-chamber of this noble youth, and attacked him by kindling right furiously the furnace of his flesh. the evil one plied the bellows from within, while the damsels, fair of face, but uncomely of soul, supplied the evil fuel from without. but ioasaph's pure soul was disturbed to feel the touch of evil, and to see the warlike host of strange thoughts that was charging down upon him. and he sought to find deliverance from this great mischief, and to present himself pure unto christ, and not defile in the mire of sinful lust that holy apparel, wherein the grace of holy baptism had clothed him. immediately he set love against love, the divine against the lascivious; and he called to remembrance the beauty and unspeakable glory of christ, the immortal bridegroom of virgin souls, and of that bride chamber and marriage, from whence they that have stained their wedding-garment are piteously cast out, bound hand and foot, into outer darkness. when he had thought thereon, and shed bitter tears, he smote upon his breast, driving out evil thoughts, as good-for-nothing drones from the hive. when he rose, and spread out his hands unto heaven, with fervent tears and groans calling upon god to help him, and he said, "lord almighty, who alone art powerful and merciful, the hope of the hopeless, and the help of the helpless, remember me thine unprofitable servant at this hour, and look upon me with a gracious countenance, and deliver my soul from the sword of the devil, and my darling from the paw of the dog: suffer me not to fall into the hands of mine enemies, and let not them that hate me triumph over me. leave me not to be destroyed in iniquities, and to dishonour my body which i swore to present unto thee chaste. for for thee i yearn; thee i worship, the father, and the son, and the holy ghost, now and for evermore, and world without end." when he had added the amen, he felt heavenly comfort stealing over him from above, and the evil thoughts withdrew, and he continued in prayer until early morn. being ware of the devices of the crafty foe, he began more and more to afflict his body by abstinence from meat and drink, and by other severities, standing in prayer all the night long, and reminding himself of his covenants made with god, and picturing in his mind the glory of the righteous yonder, and recounting to himself the full terrors of the gehenna wherewith the wicked are threatened; all this, that the enemy might not find his soul lying fallow and untilled, and thus easily sow therein the seeds of evil thoughts, and befoul the cleanness of his mind. so, when the enemy was in great straits on every side, and altogether in despair of taking this noble youth, like a cunning knave, he proceeded to another more subtil device, he that is for ever wicked, and never stinteth to contrive mischief and hurt. for he made furious endeavour to carry out the orders that theudas had given him, and once more prepared his drugs, and on this wise. the devil entered into the heart of one of the young damsels. of all she was the most seemly, a king's daughter, carried away captive from her own country, given to king abenner as a great prize, and sent by him, being of ripe beauty, to his own son, for to cause him to slip or to trip. of her the deceiver took possession, and whispered in her ear suggestions that plainly showed the wisdom and understanding of her mind; for the evil one easily pursueth all devices that make for wickedness. then the evil spirit attacked the king's son on the right hand, and gave him a potion to make him love the maiden, by reason--so he pretended--of her prudence and discretion and of her nobility and royal blood that yet had not saved her from banishment and loss of glory. moreover the devil secretly sowed in ioasaph's heart thoughts that he might recover her from idolatry, and make her a christian. but these were all stratagems of the wily serpent. for the king's son, being in this frame of mind, could see in himself no unclean thought or passionate affection for the damsel, but only sympathy and pity for her misfortune, and the ruin of her soul, and knew not that this matter was a device of the devil; for verily he is darkness, and feigneth to be light. so he began to commune with the damsel, and talk with her over the oracles of the knowledge of god, and said, "lady, be thou acquainted with the ever-living god, and perish not in the error of these idols; but know thy lord, and the maker of all this world, and thou shalt be happy, the bride of the immortal bridegroom." while he exhorted her with many such-like words, immediately the evil spirit whispered to the girl that she should spread under his feet the nets of deceit to drag his blessed soul into the pit of lust, as he once did to our first parent by means of eve, thus miserably banishing him, alas! from paradise and god, and making him to become subject to death in lieu of bliss and everlasting life. when the damsel heard ioasaph's words fulfilled with all wisdom, being without understanding, she understood them not, but made answer thus, becoming the tongue and mouth-piece of the evil one: "if, sir, thou takest thought for my salvation, and desirest to bring me to thy god, and to save my poor soul, do thou also thyself grant me one request, and straightway i will bid good-bye to my fathers' gods, and join thy god, serving him until my last breath; and thou shalt receive recompense for my salvation, and for my turning to god-ward." "lady, and what is thy request?" said he. but she, setting her whole self, figure, look and voice in a fashion to charm him, answered, "be thou joined with me in the bonds of wedlock, and i will joyfully follow out thy behests." "in vain, o lady," said he, "hast thou made this hard request. for though i earnestly care for thy salvation, and long to heave thee from the depth of perdition, yet to pollute my body through unclean union is grievous for me, and utterly impossible." she, seeking to make the way straight and smooth for him, cried, "why dost thou, who are so wise, talk thus? wherefore speakest thou of it as of defilement and shameful intercourse? i am not unacquainted with the christian books: nay, i have met with many volumes in mine own country, and have heard the discourses of many christians. what, is it not written in one of your books, 'marriage is honourable, and the bed undefiled'? and, 'it is better to marry than to burn'? and again, 'what god hath joined together, let not man put asunder'? do not your scriptures teach that all the righteous men of old, patriarchs and prophets, were wedded? is it not written that the mighty peter, whom ye call prince of the apostles, was a married man? who, then, hath persuaded thee to call this defilement? methink, sir, thou strayest utterly away from the truth of your doctrines." "yea, lady," said he, "all this is even as thou sayest. it is permitted to all who will to live in wedlock, but not to them that have once made promise to christ to be virgins. for myself, ever since i was cleansed in the laver of holy baptism from the sins of my youth and ignorance, i have resolved to present myself pure to christ, and how shall i dare break my covenants with god?" again quoth the damsel, "let this also be thy pleasure, as thou wilt. but fulfil me one other small and trivial desire of mine, if thou art in very truth minded for to save my soul. keep company with me this one night only, and grant me to revel in thy beauty, and do thou in turn take thy fill of my comeliness. and i give thee my word, that, with daybreak, i will become a christian, and forsake all the worship of my gods. not only shalt thou be pardoned for this dealing, but thou shalt receive recompense from thy god because of my salvation, for thy scripture saith, 'there is joy in heaven over one sinner that repenteth.' if, therefore, there is joy in heaven over the conversion of a sinner, shall not great recompense be due to the causer of that conversion? yea, so it is: and dispute it not. did not even the apostles, the leaders of your religion, do many a thing by dispensation, at times transgressing a commandment on account of a greater one? is not paul said to have circumcised timothy on account of a greater dispensation? and yet circumcision hath been reckoned by christians as unlawful, but yet he did not decline so to do. and many other such things shalt thou find in thy scriptures. if then in very sooth, as thou sayest, thou seekest to save my soul, fulfil me this my small desire. and although i seek to be joined with thee in the full estate of matrimony, yet, sith this is contrary to thy mind, i will never constrain thee again, but will do everything that liketh thee. for the rest, do not thou utterly abhor me; but hearken to me for the nonce, and thou shalt deliver me from superstitious error, and thou shalt do whatever seemeth thee good hereafter all the days of thy life." thus spake she; for indeed she had, for her adviser, one to whom she lent a privy ear, and the pirate was well versed in scripture, being verily the creator and teacher of iniquity. thus then she spake with fawning words entangling him, right and left, around with her toils and meshes, and she began to shake the citadel of his soul, and to slacken his tension of purpose, and to soften the temper of his mind. then the sower of these evil tares, and enemy of the righteous, when he saw the young man's heart wavering, was full of joy, and straightway called to the evil spirits that were with him, crying, "look you how yond damsel hasteth to bring to pass all that we were unable to accomplish! hither! fall we now furiously upon him: for we shall find none other season so favourable to perform the will of him that sent us." thus spake this crafty spirit to his hounds: and straightway they lept on that soldier of christ, disquieting all the powers of his soul, inspiring him with vehement love for the damsel, and kindling within him the fiercest fire of lust. when ioasaph saw that he was greatly inflamed, and was being led captive into sin, and perceived that his thoughts about the salvation of the damsel and her conversion to god had been set like bait on hook to hide the deed which she purposed, and were troubling him with the suggestion of the enemy, that, for the salvation of a soul, it was not sin for once to lie with a woman, then in the agony of his soul he drew a deep and lamentable groan, and nerved himself to pray, and, with streams of tears running down his cheeks, he cried aloud to him that is able to save them that trust in him, saying, "on thee, o lord, have i set my trust: let me not be confounded for ever; neither let mine enemies triumph over me, that hold by thy right hand. but stand thou by me at this hour, and according to thy will make straight my path, that thy glorious and dreadful name may be glorified in me thy servant, because thou art blessed for ever. amen." now when he had prayed in tears for many hours, and often bent the knee, he sunk down upon the pavement. after he had slumbered awhile, he saw himself carried off by certain dread men, and passing through places which he had never heretofore beheld. he stood in a mighty plain, all a-bloom with fresh and fragrant flowers, where he descried all manner of plants of divers colours, charged with strange and marvellous fruits, pleasant to the eye and inviting to the touch. the leaves of the trees rustled clearly in a gentle breeze, and, as they shook, sent forth a gracious perfume that cloyed not the sense. thrones were set there, fashioned of the purest gold and costly stones, throwing out never so bright a lustre, and radiant settles among wondrous couches too beautiful to be described. and beside them there were running waters exceeding clear, and delightful to the eye. when these dread men had led him through this great and wondrous plain, they brought him to a city that glistered with light unspeakable, whose walls were of dazzling gold, with high uprear'd parapets, built of gems such as man hath never seen. ah! who could describe the beauty and brightness of that city? light, ever shooting from above, filled all her streets with bright rays; and winged squadrons, each of them itself a light, dwelt in this city, making such melody as mortal ear ne'er heard. and ioasaph heard a voice crying, "this is the rest of the righteous: this the gladness of them that have pleased the lord." when these dread men had carried him out from thence, they spake of taking him back to earth. but he, that had lost his heart to that scene of joyaunce and heartsease, exclaimed, "reave me not, reave me not, i pray you, of this unspeakable joy, but grant me also to dwell in one corner of this mighty city." but they said, "it is impossible for thee to be there now; but, with much toil and sweat, thou shalt come hither, if thou constrain thyself." thus spake they; and again they crossed that mighty plain, and bare him to regions of darkness and utter woe, where sorrow matched the brightness which he had seen above. there was darkness without a ray of light, and utter gloom, and the whole place was full of tribulation and trouble. there blazed a glowing furnace of fire, and there crept the worm of torment. revengeful powers were set over the furnace, and there were some that were burning piteously in the fire, and a voice was heard, saying, "this is the place of sinners; this the punishment for them that have defiled themselves by foul practices." hereupon ioasaph was carried thence by his guides; and, when he came to himself, immediately he trembled from head to foot, and, like a river, his eyes dropped tears, and all the comeliness of that wanton damsel and her fellows was grown more loathsome to him than filth and rottenness. and as he mused in his heart on the memory of the visions, in longing for the good and in terror of the evil, he lay on his bed utterly unable to arise. then was the king informed of his son's sickness; and he came and asked what ailed him. and ioasaph told him his vision, and said, "wherefore hast thou laid a net for my feet, and bowed down my soul? if the lord had not helped me, my soul had well nigh dwelt in hell. but how loving is god unto israel, even unto such as are of a true heart! he hath delivered me that am lowly from the midst of the dogs. for i was sore troubled and i fell on sleep: but god my saviour from on high hath visited me, and showed me what joy they lose that provoke him and to what punishments they subject themselves. and now, o my father, since thou hast stopped thine ears not to hear the voice that will charm thee to good, at least forbid me not to walk the straight road. for this i desire, this i long for, to forsake all, and reach that place, where barlaam the servant of christ hath his dwelling, and with him to finish what remaineth of my life. but if thou keep me back by force, thou shalt quickly see me die of grief and despair, and thou shalt be no more called father, nor have me to thy son." xxxi. again therefore the king was seized with despondency, and again he was like to abjure his whole way of life; and with strange thoughts he went again unto his own palace. but the evil spirits, that had been sent out by theudas for to attack the young saint, returned to him, and, lovers of leasing though they were, confessed their shameful defeat, for they bare visible tokens of their defeat, upon their evil countenance. said theudas, "and be ye so weak and puny that ye cannot get the better of one young stripling?" then did the evil spirits, constrained, to their sorrow, by the might of god, bring to light the truth, saying, "we cannot abide even the sight of the might of christ, and the symbol of his passion, which they call the cross. for, when that sign is made, immediately all we, the princes of the air, and the rulers of the darkness of the world, are utterly routed and discomfited, even before the sign is completed. when we first fell upon this youth, we vexed him sore; but when he called on christ for help, and armed him with the sign of the cross, he routed us in angry wise, and stablished himself in safety. so incontinent we found a weapon, wherewith our chief did once confront the first-made man and prevailed against him. and verily we should have made this young man's hope vain; but again christ was called on for help, and he consumed us in the fire of his wrath from above, and put us to flight. we have determined to approach the prince no more." thus, then, did the evil spirits plainly make known unto theudas all that was come to pass. but the king, perplexed on every side, again summoned theudas, and said, "most wisest of men, all that seemed good to thee have we fulfilled, but have found no help therein. but now, if thou hast any device left, we will make trial thereof. peradventure i shall find some escape from this evil." then did theudas ask for a meeting with his son; and on the morrow the king took him and went forth to visit the prince. the king sat down and provoked debate, upbraiding and chiding him for his disobedience and stubbornness of mind. when ioasaph again maintained his ease, and loudly declared that he valued nothing so much as the love of christ, theudas came forward and said, "wherefore, ioasaph, dost thou despise our immortal gods, that thou hast departed from their worship, and, thus incensing thy father the king, art become hateful to all the people? dost thou not owe thy life to the gods? and did they not present thee to the king in answer to his prayer, thus redeeming him from the bondage of childlessness?" while this theudas, waxen old in wickedness, was putting forth these many vain arguments and useless propositions, and weaving words about the preaching of the gospel, desiring to turn it into mockery, and magnify idolatry, ioasaph, the son of the heavenly king, and citizen of that city which the lord hath builded and not man, waited a while and then said unto him, "give ear, thou abyss of error, blacker than the darkness that may be felt, thou seed of babylon, child of the building of the tower of chalane, whereby the world was confounded, foolish and pitiable dotard, whose sins out-weigh the iniquity of the five cities that were destroyed by fire and brimstone. why wouldest thou mock at the preaching of salvation, whereby darkness hath been made light, the wanderers have found the way, they that were lost in dire captivity have been recalled. tell me whether is better? to worship god almighty, with the only-begotten son and the holy ghost, god increate and immortal, the beginning and well-spring of good, whose power is beyond compare, and his glory incomprehensible, before whom stand thousand thousands, and ten thousand times ten thousand of angels and heavenly hosts, and heaven and earth are full of his glow, by whom all things were brought into being out of nothing, by whom everything is upheld and sustained and ordered by his providence; or to serve deadly devils and lifeless idols, whose glory and boast is in adultery and the corrupting of boys, and other works of iniquity that have been recorded concerning your gods in the books of your superstition? have ye no modesty, ye miserable men, fuel for unquenchable fire, true copy of the chaldean race, have ye no shame to worship dead images, the works of men's hands? ye have carved stone and graven wood and called it god. next ye take the best bullock out of your folds, or (may be) some other of your fairest beasts, and in your folly make sacrifice to your dead divinity. your sacrifice is of more value than your idol; for the image was fashioned by man, but the beast was created by god. how much wiser is the unreasonable beast than thou the reasonable man? for it knoweth the hand that feedeth it, but thou knowest not that god by whom thou wast created out of nothing, by whom thou livest, and art preserved; and thou callest god that which thou sawest, but now, smitten by steel, and burnt and moulded in the fire, and beaten with hammers, which thou hast covered around with silver and gold, and raised from the ground, and set on high. then, falling upon the earth, thou liest baser than the base stone, worshipping not god but thine own dead and lifeless handiwork. or rather, the idol hath no right to be called even dead, for how can that have died which never lived? thou shouldest invent some new name worthy of such madness. thy stone god is broken asunder; thy potsherd god shattered; thy brazen god rusteth; thy gold or silver god is melted down. aye, and thy gods are sold, some for a paltry, others for a great price. not their divinity but their material giveth them value. but who buyeth god? who offereth god for sale? and how is that god that cannot move called god? seest thou not that the god that standeth cannot sit, and the god that sitteth cannot stand? "be ashamed, thou fool, and lay thine hand upon thy mouth, thou victim of folly, that commendest such things as these. estranged from the truth, thou hast been led astray by false images, fashioning statues and attaching to the works of thine own hands the name of god. o wretched man, return to thy senses, and learn that thou art older than the god made by thee. this is downright madness. being a man, thou hast persuaded thyself that thou canst make god. how can this be? thou makest not god, but the likeness of a man, or of some beast, sans tongue, sans throat, sans brains, sans inwards, so that it is the similitude neither of a man, nor of a beast, but only a thing of no use and sheer vanity. why therefore flatterest thou things that cannot feel? why sittest thou at the feet of things that cannot move and help thee? but for the skill of the mason, or timber-wright, or hammer-smith, thou hadst not had a god. had there been no warders nigh at hand, thou hadst lost thy god. he, to whom many a populous city of fools prayeth as god to guard it, the same hath suite of guards at hand to save him from being stolen. and if he be of silver or gold, he is carefully guarded; but if of stone or clay or any other less costly ware, he guardeth himself, for with you, no doubt, a god of clay is stronger than one of gold. "do we not, then, well to laugh you to scorn, or rather to weep over you, as men blind and without understanding? your deeds are deeds of madness and not of piety. your man of war maketh to himself an image after the similitude of a warrior, and calleth it ares. and the lecher, making a symbol of his own soul, deifieth his vice and calleth it aphrodite. another, in honour of his own love of wine, fashioneth an idol which he calleth dionysus. likewise lovers of all other evil things set up idols of their own lusts; for they name their lusts their gods. and therefore, before their altars, there are lascivious dances, and strains of lewd songs and mad revelries. who could recount in order their abominable doings? who could endure to defile his lips by the repeating of their filthy communications? but these are manifest to all, even if we hold our peace. these be thine objects of worship, o theudas, who art more senseless than thine idols. before these thou biddest me fall down and worship. this verily is the counsel of thine iniquity and senseless mind. but thou thyself shalt be like unto them, and all such as put their trust in them. "as for me, i will serve my god, and to him will i wholly sacrifice myself, to god, the creator and protector of all things through our lord jesus christ, my hope, by whom we have access unto the father of lights, in the holy ghost: by whom we have been redeemed from bitter slavery by his blood. for if he had not humbled himself so far as to take the form of a servant, we had not received the adoption of sons. but he humbled himself for our sake, not considering the godhead a thing to be grasped, but he remained that which he was, and took on himself that which he was not, and conversed with men, and mounted the cross in his flesh, and was laid in the sepulchre by the space of three days; he descended into hell, and brought out from thence them whom the fierce prince of this world held prisoners, sold into bondage by sin. what harm then befell him thereby that thou thinkest to make mock of him? seest thou not yonder sun, into how many a barren and filthy place he darteth his rays? upon how many a stinking corpse doth he cast his eye? hath he therefore any stain of reproach? doth he not dry and shrivel up filth and rottenness, and give light to dark places, himself the while unharmed and incapable of receiving any defilement? and what of fire? doth it not take iron, which is black and cold in itself, and work it into white heat and harden it? doth it receive any of the properties of the iron? when the iron is smitten and beaten with hammers is the fire any the worse, or doth it in any way suffer harm? "if, then, these created and corruptible things take no hurt from contact with things commoner than themselves, with what reason dost thou, o foolish and stony-hearted man, presume to mock at me for saying that the son, the word of god, never departing from the father's glory, but remaining the same god, for the salvation of men hath taken upon him the flesh of man, to the end that he may make men partakers of his divine and intelligent nature and may lead our substance out of the nether parts of hell, and honour it with heavenly glory; to the end that by taking of our flesh he may ensnare and defeat the ruler of the darkness of this world, and free our race from his tyranny. wherefore, i tell thee, without suffering he met the suffering of the cross, presenting therein his two natures. for, as man, he was crucified; but, as god, he darkened the sun, shook the earth, and raised from their graves many bodies that had fallen asleep. again, as man, he died; but, as god, after that he had harried hell, he rose again. wherefore also the prophet cried, hell is in bitterness at having met thee below: for it was put to bitter derision, supposing that it had received a mere man, but finding god, and being made suddenly empty and led captive. therefore, as god, he rose again, and ascended into heaven, from whence he was never parted. and our nature, so worthless and senseless beyond everything, so graceless and dishonoured, hath he made higher than all things, and established it upon a throne of honour, with immortal honour shining round. what harm therefore came to god, the word, that thou blasphemest without a blush? go to! better were it to make this confession, and to worship such a god, who is good and a lover of mankind, who commandeth righteousness, enjoineth continency, ordaineth chastity, teacheth mercy, giveth faith, preacheth peace; who is called and is himself the very truth, the very love, the very goodness. him were it not better to worship than thy gods of many evil passions, of shameful names and shameful lives? woe unto you that are more stony-hearted than the stones, and more senseless than the senseless, sons of perdition, inheritors of darkness! but blessed am i, and all christian folk, having a good god and a lover of mankind! they that serve him, though, for a season in this life they endure evil, yet shall they reap the immortal harvest of recompense in the kingdom of unending and divine felicity." xxxii. theudas said unto him, "behold, it is evident that our religion was instituted by many mighty wise men, and interpreters, marvellous in virtue and learning; and all the kings and rulers of the earth have received it as good and sure in every point. but that of the galileans was preached by some country peasants, poor and common men, a mere handful, not exceeding twelve in number. how then should one prefer the preaching of these few obscure countrymen to the ordinance of the many that are mighty and brilliantly wise? what is the proof that your teachers be right and the others wrong?" again the king's son made answer, "belike, theudas, thou art the ass of the proverb, that heard but heeded not the harp; or rather the adder that stoppeth her ears, that she may not hear the voice of the charmers. well, therefore, spake the prophet concerning thee, if the ethiopian can change his skin, or the leopard his spots, then mayest thou also do good, that hast been taught to do evil. thou fool and blind, why doth not the force of truth bring thee to thy senses? the very fact that your foul idols are commended by many men of marvellous wisdom, and established by kings, while the gospel is preached by a few men of no mark, sheweth the might of our religion and the weakness and deadliness of your wicked doctrines. because your side, despite its having wise advocates and mighty champions, is dying down, and waxing weak, whilst our religion, though possessed of no human help, shineth from afar brighter than the sun, and hath won the fulness of the world. if it had been set up by orators and philosophers, and had had kings for its succour, thou that art evil wouldst have found occasion to declare that it was wholly of human power. but now, seeing, as thou dost, that the holy gospel, though composed but by common fishermen, and persecuted by every tyrant, hath after this won the whole world for its sound hath gone out into all lands, and its words into the ends of the world--what canst thou say but that it is a divine and unconquerable power establishing its own cause for the salvation of mankind? but what proof seekest thou, o fool, that thy prophets are liars and ours true, better than the truths i have told thee? except thy cause had been vain talk and falsehood, it could not, possessing such human support as it did, have suffered loss and decline. for he saith, 'i have seen the ungodly in great power, and exalted like the cedars of libanus: and i went by and lo, he was gone: and i sought him but his place could nowhere be found.' "concerning you, the defenders of idolatry, were these words spoken by the prophet. for a very, very little while and your place shall not be found: but, like as the smoke vanisheth, and like as wax melteth in face of the fire, so shall ye fail. but, as touching the divine wisdom of the gospel, thus saith the lord, 'heaven and earth shall pass away, but my words shall not pass away.' and again the psalmist saith, 'thou, lord, in the beginning hast laid the foundation of the earth; and the heavens are the work of thy hands. they shall perish, but thou endurest; and they all shall wax old as doth a garment, and as a vesture shalt thou fold them up, and they shall be changed, but thou art the same, and thy years shall not fail!' and those divine preachers of the coming of christ, those wise fishers of the world, whose nets drew all men from the depths of deceit, whom thou, in thy vileness and bondage to sin, dost vilify, did by signs and wonders and manifold powers shine as the sun in the world, giving sight to the blind, hearing to the deaf, motion to the lame, and life to the dead. their shadows alone healed all the ailments of men. the devils, whom ye dread as gods, they not only cast forth from men's bodies, but even drave out of the world itself by the sign of the cross, whereby they destroyed all sorcery, and rendered witchcraft powerless. and these men, by curing every disease of man by the power of christ, and renewing all creation, are rightly admired as preachers of truth by all men of sound mind. but what hast thou thyself to say of thy wise men and orators, whose wisdom god hath made foolish, the advocates of the devil? what worthy memorial have they bequeathed to the world? tell me. and what canst thou tell of them but unreason and shamefulness, and vain craft that with glosing words concealeth the mire of their unsavoury worship? "moreover such of your poets as have been able to soar a little above this great madness have said, with more truth, that they, which are called gods, were men; and because certain of them had been rulers of regions and cities, and others had done something of no great account in their lifetime, men were so deceived as to call them gods. it standeth on record that the man seruch was the first to bring in the use of images. for it is said that in the old times he honoured those who had achieved some memorable deed of courage, friendship, or any other such virtue with statues and pillars. but after generations forgat the intention of their ancestors: and, whereas it was only for remembrance sake that they had set up statues and pillars to the doers of noble deeds, now they were, little by little, led astray through the working of the prince of evil, the devil, and treated as immortal gods men of like passions and corruptible as themselves and further devised sacrifices and drink-offerings for them,--the devils, thou mayest know, taking up their abode in these images and diverting to themselves these honours and sacrifices. accordingly these devils persuade men, who refuse to have god in their knowledge, to consider them as gods for two reasons: first, that they may be glorified by this title (for they are puffed up with arrogance, and delight to be honoured as gods) next, that they may drag their poor dupes into the unquenchable fire prepared for themselves. hence they teach men all iniquity and filthiness, seeing that they have once subjected themselves to their deceit. so when men had arrived at this pinnacle of evil, they, being darkened, set up every man an idol of his own vice and his own lust, and call it a god. they were abominable in their error, more abominable in the absurdity of the objects that they chose to worship, until the lord came, and of his tender mercy redeemed us that trust in him from this wicked and deadly error, and taught men the true knowledge of god. for there is no salvation except in him, and there is none other god, neither in heaven, nor in earth, except him only, the maker of all, who moveth all things by the word of his power: for he saith, 'by the word of the lord were the heavens made stedfast, and all the power of them by the breath of his mouth,' and, 'all things were made by him, and without him was not anything made that was made.'" when theudas had heard these sayings, and seen that the word was full of divine wisdom, like one thunder-struck, he was smitten dumb. now late in time, and with difficulty, came he to understand his own misery, for the word of salvation had touched the darkened vision of his heart, and there fell upon him deep remorse for his past sins. he renounced the error of his idols, and ran towards the light of godliness, and from henceforth departed from his miserable life, and made himself as bitter an enemy of vile affections and sorceries as he before had pledged himself their devoted friend, for at this season he stood up in the midst of the assembly, and cried with a loud voice, saying, "verily, o king, the spirit of god dwelleth in thy son. verily, we are defeated, and have no further apology, and have no strength to face the words that he hath uttered. mighty therefore, in sooth, is the god of the christians: mighty is their faith: mighty are their mysteries." then he turned him round toward the king's son and said, "tell me now, thou man, whose soul is enlightened, will christ accept me, if i forsake my evil deeds and turn to him?" "yea," said that preacher of truth; "yea, he receiveth thee and all that turn to him. and he not only receiveth thee, but he goeth out to meet thee returning out of the way of iniquity, as though it were a son returning from a far country. and he falleth on his neck and kisseth him, and he strippeth him of the shameful robe of sin, and putteth on him a cloak of brightest glory, making mystic gladness for the powers on high, keeping feast for the return of the lost sheep. the lord himself saith, 'there is exceeding great joy in heaven over one sinner that repenteth': and again, 'i am not come to call the righteous but sinners to repentance.' and he saith also by the prophet, 'as i live, saith the lord, i have no pleasure in the death of the sinner, and the ungodly, but that he should turn from his way and live. turn ye, turn ye from your evil way. and why will ye die, o house of israel?' for the wickedness of the wicked shall not hurt him in the day that he turneth from his wickedness, if he do righteousness and walk in the statutes of life, he shall surely live; he shall not die. none of his sins which he hath committed shall be remembered against him. because he hath done the decree of righteousness, he shall live thereby. and again he crieth by the mouth of another prophet, 'wash you, make you clean; put away the evil of your doings from before mine eyes; cease to do evil: learn to do well. come now, and let us reason together: though your sins be as scarlet, i will make them white as snow; though they be red like crimson, i will make them white as wool.' such therefore being the promises made by god to them that turn to him, tarry not, o thou man, nor make delay: but draw nigh to christ, our loving god, and be enlightened, and thy face shall not be ashamed. for as soon as thou goest down into the laver of holy baptism, all the defilement of the old man, and all the burden of thy many sins, is buried in the water, and passeth into nothingness, and thou comest up from thence a new man, pure from all pollution, with no spot or wrinkle of sin upon thee; and thenceforward it is in thy power ever to keep for thyself the purity that thou gainest hereby through the tender mercy of our god." when theudas had been thus instructed, he went out immediately and gat him to his evil den, and took his magical books, and, because they were the beginnings of all evil, and the storehouses of devilish mysteries, burnt them with fire. and he betook himself to the cave of that same holy man, to whom nachor also had resorted, and told him that which had befallen him, casting dust upon his head, and groaning deeply, and watering himself with his tears, and telling the aged man the full tale of his loathly deeds. he, well skilled in the saving of a soul and the snatching it from the jaw of the wily serpent, charmed away his sorrow with words of salvation, and pledged him forgiveness and promised him a merciful judge. then, after he had instructed and charged him to fast many days, he cleansed him in holy baptism. and all the days of his life theudas heartily repented him of his misdeeds, with tears and sighs seeking the favour of god. xxxiii. as for the king, when things fortuned thus, he was completely bewildered, and plainly showed his sore vexation and tumult of soul. so again he called all his senators together, and considered what means were still his to deal with his son. many men put forward many counsels, but that araches, of whom we have spoken, the most famous in his office, and first of his councillors, spake unto the king, saying, "what was there to be done with thy son, o king, that we have not done, to induce him to follow our doctrines and serve our gods? but, as i perceive, we aim at the impossible. by nature, or, it may be, by chance, he is contentious and implacable. now, if it be thy purpose to deliver him to torture and punishment, thou shalt do contrary to nature, and be no more called a father; and thou shalt lose thy son, willing, as he is, to lay down his life for christ his sake. this, then, alone remaineth: to divide thy kingdom with him, and entrust him with the dominion of that part which falleth to his lot; and if the course of events, and the care of the business of life, draw him to embrace our aim and way, then the thing shall be according to our purpose; for habits, firmly established in the soul, are difficult to obliterate, and yield quicker to persuasion than to violence. but if he shall continue in the christian religion, yet shall it be some solace to time in thy distress, that thou hast not lost thy son." thus spake araches, and all bare witness that they welcomed his proposal. therefore also the king agreed that this matter should thus be settled. so at day-break he called his son, and said unto him, "this is now my latest word with thee, my son. unless thou be obedient thereto, and in this way heal my heart, know thou well, that i shall no longer spare thee." when his son enquired the meaning of his word, he said, "since, after all my labours, i find thee in all points unyielding to the persuasion of my words, come now; i will divide with thee my kingdom, and make thee king over the half-part thereof; and thou shalt be free, from now, to go whatsoever way thou wilt without fear." he, though his saintly soul perceived that the king was casting yet another snare to trip his purpose, resolved to obey, in order that he might escape his hands, and take the journey that he desired. so he answered and said, "i have indeed been longing to go in quest of that man of god that pointed out to me the way of salvation, and, bidding farewell to everything, to pass the rest of my life in his company. but, father, since thou sufferest me not to fulfil my heart's desire, i will obey thee herein: for where there is no clear danger of perdition and estrangement from god, it is right to obey one's father." the king was filled with exceeding great joy, and divided all the country under his sovranty into two parts, and appointed his son king, and adorned him with the diadem, and arrayed him in all the splendour of kingship, and sent him forth with a magnificent body-guard into the kingdom set apart for him. and he bade his rulers and governors and satraps, every one that would, to depart together with his son the king. and he set apart a mighty and populous city for his kingdom, and gave him everything that befitted a king. thus then did ioasaph receive the power of kingship; and when he had reached that city, where royal state had been prepared for him, on every tower of his city he set up the sign of his lord's passion, the venerable cross of christ. and in person he besieged the idolatrous temples and altars, and razed them to the ground, and uncovered their foundations, leaving no trace of their ungodliness. and in the middle of the city he upreared for christ, his lord, a temple mighty and passing fair, and he bade the people there often to resort thither, and offer their worship to god by the veneration of the cross, himself standing in the midst in the presence of all, and earnestly giving himself unto prayer. and as many as were under his hand he admonished and exhorted, and did everything to tear them away from superstitious error, and to unite them to christ; and he pointed out the deceits of idolatry, and proclaimed the preaching of the gospel, and recounted the things concerning the condescension of god, the word, and preached the marvels of his coming, and made known his sufferings on the cross whereby we were saved, and the power of his resurrection, and his ascension into heaven. moreover he declared the terrible day of his dreadful second coming, and the bliss laid up for the righteous, and the punishments awaiting sinners. all these truths he expounded with kindly mien and gentle words. for he was not minded to be reverenced and feared for the grandeur of his power and kingly magnificence, but rather for his humility and meekness. hereby also he more easily drew all men unto himself, being verily marvellous in his acts, and equitable and modest in spirit. wherefore his power, being strongly reinforced by his gentleness and equity, caused all men to yield themselves to his words. what wonder, then, if, in a little while, all his subjects, in city or country, were so well initiated into his inspired teachings, that they renounced the errors of their many gods, and broke away from idolatrous drink-offerings and abominations, and were joined to the true faith and were created anew by his doctrine, and added to the household of christ? and all, who for fear of ioasaph's father had been shut up in mountains and dens, priests and monks, and some few bishops, came forth from their hiding places and resorted to him gladly. he himself would meet and receive with honour those who had fallen upon such tribulation and distress, for christ his sake, and bring them to his own palace, washing their feet, and cleansing their matted hair, and ministering to them in every way. then he dedicated his newly built church, and therein appointed for chief-priest one of the bishops that had suffered much, and had lost his own see, on account of his faith in christ, an holy man, and learned in the canons of the church, whose heart was fulfilled with heavenly zeal. and forthwith, when he had made ready a rude font, he bade baptize them that were turning to christ. and so they were baptized, first the rulers and the men in authority; next, the soldiers on service and the rest of the multitude. and they that were baptized not only received health in their souls, but indeed as many as were afflicted with bodily ailments and imperfections cast off all their trouble, and came up from the holy font pure in soul, and sound in body, reaping an harvest of health for soul and body alike. wherefore also from all quarters multitudes flocked to king ioasaph, desirous to be instructed by him in godliness. and all idolatrous images were utterly demolished, and all their wealth and temple treasure was taken from them, and in their stead holy courts were built for god. for these king ioasaph dedicated the riches and costly vestments and treasures of the idolatrous temples, thereby making this worthless and superfluous material fit for service, and profitable. and the foul fiends that dwelt in their altars and temples were rigorously chased away and put to flight; and these, in the hearing of many, loudly lamented the misfortune that had overtaken them. and all the region round about was freed from their dark deceit, and illuminated with the light of the blameless christian faith. and, soothly, the king was a good example to all; and he inflamed and kindled the hearts of many to be of the same mind with himself. for such is the nature of authority. its subjects alway conform to its likeness, and are wont to love the same objects, and to practise the pursuits which they perceive to be pleasing to their governor. hence, god helping, religion grew and increased amongst them. the king was wholly dependent on the commandments of christ and on his love, being a steward of the word of grace, and pilot to the souls of many, bringing them to safe anchorage in the haven of god. for he knew that this, afore all things, is the work of a king, to teach men to fear god and keep righteousness. thus did he, training himself to be king over his own passions, and, like a good pilot, keeping a firm hold of the helm of good government for his subjects. for this is the end of good kingship, to be king and lord over pleasure--which end also he achieved. of the nobility of his ancestors, or the royal splendour around him, he was in no wise proud, knowing that we all have one common forefather, made of clay, and that, whether rich or poor, we are all of the same moulding. he ever abased his soul in deepest humility, and thought on the blessedness of the world to come, and considered himself a stranger and pilgrim in this world, but realised that that was his real treasure which he should win after his departure hence. now, since all went well with him, and since he had delivered all the people from their ancient and ancestral error, and made them servants of him who redeemed us from evil servitude by his own precious blood, he turned his thoughts to his next task, the virtue of almsgiving. temperance and righteousness he had already attained; he wore on his brow the crown of temperance, and wrapped about him the purple of righteousness. he called to mind the uncertainty of earthly riches, how they resemble the running of river waters. therefore made he haste to lay up his treasure where neither 'moth nor rust doth corrupt and where thieves do not break through nor steal.' so he began to distribute all his money to the poor, sparing naught thereof. he knew that the possessor of great authority is bound to imitate the giver of that authority, according to his ability; and herein he shall best imitate god, if he hold nothing in higher honour than mercy. before all gold and precious stone he stored up for himself the treasure of almsgiving; treasure, which here gladdeneth the heart by the hope of enjoyment to come, and there delighteth it with the taste of the hoped-for bliss. after this he searched the prisons, and sought out the captives in mines, or debtors in the grip of their creditors; and by generous largesses to all he proved a father to all, orphans, and widows, and beggars, a loving and good father, for he deemed that by bestowing blessings on these he won a blessing for himself. being endowed with spiritual riches, and, in sooth, a perfect king, he gave liberally to all that were in need, for he hoped to receive infinitely more, when the time should come for the recompense of his works. now, in little while, the fame of ioasaph was blazoned abroad; and led, as it were by the scent of sweet ointment, all men flocked to him daily, casting off their poverty of soul and body: and his name was on every man's lips. it was not fear and oppression that drew the people to him, but desire and heart-felt love, which by god's blessing and the king's fair life had been planted in their hearts. then, too, did his father's subjects begin to come to him, and, laying aside all error, received the gospel of truth. and the house of ioasaph grew and waxed strong, but the house of abenner waned and grew weak, even as the book of the kings declareth concerning david and saul. xxxiv. when king abenner saw this, though late and loth, he came to his senses, and renounced his false gods with all their impotence and vain deceit. again he called an assembly of his chief counsellors, and brought to light the thoughts of his heart. as they confirmed his words (for the day-spring from on high had visited them, the saviour who had heard the prayer of his servant ioasaph), it pleased the king to signify the same to his son. therefore on the morrow he wrote a letter to ioasaph, running thus: "king abenner to his well-beloved son ioasaph, greeting. dearest son, many thoughts have been stealing into my soul, and rule it with a rod of iron. i see our state vanishing, like as smoke vanisheth, but thy religion shining brighter than the sun; and i have come to my senses, and know that the words which thou hast ever spoken unto me are true, and that a thick cloud of sin and wickedness did then cover us, so that we were unable to discern the truth, and recognize the creator of all. nay, but we shut our eyes, and would not behold the light which thou didst enkindle more brightly for us. much evil did we do unto thee, and many of the christians, alas! did we destroy; who, strengthened by the power that aided them, finally triumphed over our cruelty. but now we have removed that dense mist from our eyes, and see some small ray of truth, and there cometh on us repentance of our misdeeds. but a new cloud of despair would overshadow it; despair at the multitude of mine offences, because i am now abominable and unacceptable to christ, being a rebel and a foeman unto him. what, then, sayest thou, dearest son, hereto? make known to me thine answer, and teach me that am thy father what i should do, and lead me to the knowledge of my true weal." when ioasaph had received this letter, and read the words therein, his soul was filled with mingled joy and amazement. forthwith he entered his closet, and falling on his face before the image of his master, watered the ground with his tears, giving thanks to his lord and confessing him, and tuning lips of exultation to sing an hymn of praise, saying: "i will magnify thee, o god, my king, and i will praise thy name for ever and ever. great art thou o lord, and marvellous-worthy to be praised, and of thy greatness there is no end. who can express thy noble acts, or show forth all thy praise, who hast turned the hard rock into a standing water and the flint-stone into a springing well? for behold this my father's flinty and more than granite heart is at thy will melted as wax; because thou art able of these stones to raise up children unto abraham. i thank thee, lord, thou lover of men, and god of pity, that thou hast been, and art, long-suffering towards our offences, and hast suffered us until now to go unpunished. long have we deserved to be cast away from thy face, and made a by-word on earth, as were the sinful inhabiters of the five cities, consumed with fire and brimstone; but thy marvellous long-suffering hath dealt graciously with us. i give thanks unto thee, vile and unworthy though i be, and insufficient of myself to glorify thy greatness. and, by thine infinite compassions, i pray thee, lord jesu christ, son and word of the invisible father, who madest all things by thy word, and sustainest them by thy will; who hast delivered us thine unworthy servants from the bondage of the arch-fiend our foe: thou that wast stretched upon the rood, and didst bind the strong man, and award everlasting freedom to them that lay bound in his fetters: do thou now also stretch forth thine invisible and almighty hand, and, at the last, free thy servant my father from that cruel bondage of the devil. show him full clearly that thou art the ever living true god, and only king, eternal and immortal. behold, o lord, with favourable and kindly eye, the contrition of my heart; and, according to thine unerring promise, be with me that acknowledge and confess thee the maker and protector of all creation. let there be a well of water within me springing up, and let utterance be given unto me that i may open my mouth, and a mind well fixed in thee, the chief corner-stone, that i, thine unprofitable servant, may be enabled to preach to my father, as is right, the mystery of thine incarnation, and by thy power deliver him from the vain deceit of wicked devils, and bring him unto thee his god and lord, who willest not the death of us sinners, but waitest for us to return and repent, because thou art glorified for ever and ever. amen." when he had thus prayed, and received fulness of assurance that he should not miscarry in his desire, he took courage by the tender mercy of christ, and arose thence, with his royal bodyguard, and arrived at his father's palace. when it was told unto his father, "thy son is come," he went forth straightway for to meet him, and embraced and kissed him lovingly, and made exceeding great joy, and held a general feast in honour of the coming of his son. and afterward, they two were closeted together. but how tell of all that the son spake with his father, and of all the wisdom of his speech? and what was that speech but the words put into his mouth by the holy ghost, by whom the fishermen enclosed the whole world in their nets for christ and the unlearned are found wiser than the wise. this holy spirit's grace and wisdom taught ioasaph to speak with the king his father, enlightening him with the light of knowledge. before now he had bestowed much labour to drag his father from superstitious error, leaving nothing unsaid and nothing undone to win him over, but he seemed to be twanging on a broken string, and speaking to deaf ears. but when the lord looked upon the lowliness of his servant ioasaph, and, in answer to his prayer, opened the closed gates of his father's heart (for it is said, he will fulfil the desire of them that fear him, and will hear their cry), then the king easily understood the things that were spoken; so that, when a convenient season came, through the grace of christ, this son triumphed over those evil spirits that had lorded it over the soul of his father, and clean freed him from their error, and made the word of salvation clearly known unto him, and joined him to the living god on high. ioasaph took up his tale from the beginning, and expounded to his father great and marvellous things which he knew not, which he had never heard with the ears of his heart; and he told him many weighty sayings concerning god, and showed him righteousness: to wit that there is no other god in heaven above, nor in the earth beneath, except the one god, revealed in the father, the son, and the holy ghost. and he made known unto him many mysteries of divine knowledge; and amongst them he told him the history of creation, visible and invisible, how the creator brought every thing out of nothing, and how he formed man after his own image and likeness and endowed him with power of free-will, and gave him paradise to his enjoyment, charging him only to abstain from one thing, the tree of knowledge; and how, when man had broken his commandment, he banished him out of paradise; and how man, fallen from union with god, stumbled into these manifold errors, becoming the slave of sins, and subject unto death through the tyranny of the devil, who, having once taken men captive, hath made them utterly forget their lord and god, and hath persuaded them to serve him instead, by the abominable worshipping of idols. so our maker, moved with compassion, through the good-will of the father, and the co-operation of the holy ghost, was pleased, for our sakes, to be born of an holy virgin, mary, the mother of god, and he, that cannot suffer, was acquainted with sufferings. on the third day he rose again from the dead, and redeemed us from our first penalty, and restored to us our first glory. when he ascended into the heavens, from whence he had descended, he raised us up together with him; and thence, we believe that he shall come again, to raise up his own handiwork; and he will recompense every man according to his works. moreover ioasaph instructed his father concerning the kingdom of heaven that awaiteth them that are worthy thereof, and the joy unspeakable. thereto he added the torment in store for the wicked, the unquenchable fire, the outer darkness, the undying worm and whatsoever other punishment the servants of sin have laid up in store for themselves. all these things set he forth in many words, which bore witness that the grace of the spirit was dwelling richly within him. then he described the uncharted sea of the love of god towards mankind, and how he is ready to accept the repentance of them that turn to him; and how there is no sin too great for his tender mercy, if we will but repent. and when he had confirmed these truths by many an example, and testimony of scripture, he made an end of speaking. xxxv. king abenner was pricked to the heart by this inspired wisdom and with loud voice and fervent heart confessed christ his saviour, and forthwith forsook all superstitious error. he venerated the sign of the life-giving cross in the sight of all and, in the hearing of all, proclaimed our lord jesus christ to be god. by telling in full the tale of his former ungodliness, and of his own cruelty and blood-thirstiness toward the christians, he proved himself a great power for religion. so here was proved in fact, the saying of paul; that where sin abounded, there did grace much more abound. while then the learned ioasaph was speaking of god, and of piety towards him, to the dukes and satraps and all the people there assembled, and was as it were with a tongue of fire piping unto them a goodly ode, the grace of the holy spirit descended upon them, and moved them to give glory to god, so that all the multitude cried aloud with one voice, "great is the god of the christians, and there is none other god but our lord jesus christ, who, together with the father and holy ghost, is glorified." waxen full of heavenly zeal, king abenner made a sturdy assault on the idols, wrought of silver and gold, that were within his palace, and tore them down to the ground. then he brake them into small pieces, and distributed them to the poor, thus making that which had been useless useful. furthermore he and his son besieged the idols' temples and altars and levelled them even to the ground, and in their stead, and to the honour of god, built holy courts. and not only in the city but throughout all the country also, thus did they in their zeal. and the evil spirits that dwelt in those altars were driven forth with shrieks, and cried out in terror at the invincible power of our god. and all the region round about, and the greater part of the neighbour nations, were led, as by the hand, to the true faith. then came the holy bishop, of whom we have spoken, and king abenner was instructed, and made perfect with holy baptism, in the name of the father, and of the son, and of the holy ghost. and ioasaph received him as he came up from the holy font, in this strange way appearing as the begetter of his own father, and proving the spiritual father to him that begat him in the flesh: for he was the son of his heavenly father, and verily divine fruit of that divine branch, which saith, "i am the vine, ye are the branches." thus king abenner, being born again of water and of the spirit, rejoiced with joy unspeakable, and with him all the city and the region round about received holy baptism, and they that were before darkness now became children of light. and every disease, and every assault of evil spirits was driven far from the believers, and all were sane and sound in body and in soul. and many other miracles were wrought for the confirmation of the faith. churches too were built, and the bishops, that had been hiding for fear, discovered themselves, and received again their own churches, whilst others were chosen from the priests and monks, to shepherd the flock of christ. but king abenner, having thus forsaken his former disgraceful life, and repented of his evil deeds, handed over to his son the rule of all his kingdom. he himself dwelt in solitude, continually casting dust on his head, and groaning for very heaviness, and watering his face with his tears, being alone, communing with him who is everywhere present and imploring him to forgive his sins. and he abased himself to such a depth of contrition and humility, that he refused to name the name of god with his own lips, and was scarce brought by his son's admonitions to make so bold. thus the king passed through the good change and entered the road that leadeth to virtue, so that his righteousness now surpassed his former sins of ignorance. for four years did he live thus in repentance and tears and virtuous acts, and then fell into the sickness whereof he died. but when the end drew nigh, he began to fear and to be dismayed, calling to remembrance the evil that he had wrought. but with comfortable words ioasaph sought to ease the distress that had fallen on him, saying, "why art thou so full of heaviness, o my father, and wily art thou so disquieted within time? set thy hope on god, and give him thanks, who is the hope of all the ends of the earth, and of them that remain in the sea afar, who crieth by the mouth of his prophet, 'wash you, make you clean: put away from before mine eyes the wickedness of your souls; learn to do well'; and 'though your sins be as scarlet, i will make them white as snow; though they be red like crimson, i will make them as wool.' fear not, therefore, o my father, neither be of doubtful mind: for the sins of them that turn to god prevail not against his infinite goodness. for these, however many, are subject to measure and number: but measure and number cannot limit his goodness. it is impossible then for that which is subject to measure to exceed the unmeasurable." with such comfortable words did ioasaph cheer his soul, and bring him to a good courage. then his father stretched out his hands, and gave him thanks and prayed for him, blessing the day whereon ioasaph was born, and said "dearest child, yet not child of me, but of mine heavenly father, with what gratitude can i repay thee? with what words of blessings may i bless thee? what thanks shall i offer god for thee? i was lost, and was found through thee: i was dead in sin and am alive again: an enemy, and rebel against god, and am reconciled with him. what reward therefore shall i give thee for all these benefits? god is he that shall make the due recompense." thus saying, he pressed many kisses on his beloved son; then, when he had prayed, and said, "into thy hands, o god, thou lover of men, do i commit my spirit," he committed his soul unto the lord in penitence and peace. now, when ioasaph had honoured with his tears his father that was dead, and had reverently cared for his body, he buried him in a sepulchre wherein devout men lay; not indeed clad in royal raiment, but robed in the garment of penitence. standing on the sepulchre, and lifting up his hands to heaven, the tears streaming in floods from his eyes, he cried aloud unto god saying, "o god, i thank thee, king of glory, alone mighty and immortal, that thou hast not despised my petition, and hast not held thy peace at my tears, but hast been pleased to turn this thy servant, my father, from the way of wickedness, and to draw him to thyself, the saviour of all, departing him from the deceitfulness of idolatry, and granting him to acknowledge thee, who art the very god and lover of souls. and now, o my lord and god, whose ocean of goodness is uncharted, set him in that place where much grass is, in a place of refreshment, where shineth the light of thy countenance. remember not his old offences; but, according to the multitude of thy mercies, blot out the handwriting of his sins, and destroy the tablets of his debts, and set him at peace with thy saints whom he slew with fire and sword. charge them not to be bitter against him. for all things are possible with thee, the lord of all, save only to withhold pity from them that turn not unto thee; this is impossible. for thy pity is poured out upon all men, and thou savest them that call upon thee, lord jesu christ, because glory becometh thee for ever and ever. amen." such were the prayers and intercessions that he made unto god, by the space of seven full days, never leaving the grave, and never thinking of meat or drink, and taking no refreshment of sleep: but he watered the ground with his tears, and continued praying and moaning unceasingly. but, on the eighth day, he went back to his palace and distributed amongst the poor all his wealth and riches, so that not one person was left in want. xxxvi. in a few days, after he had ended this ministry, and emptied all his coffers, in order that the burden of his money might not hinder him from entering in at the narrow gate, on the fortieth day after his father's decease, and in remembrance of him, he called together all his officers, and those who wore soldiers' attire, and of the citizens not a few. sitting in the front, according to custom, in the audience of all he said, "lo, as ye see, abenner, my father the king, hath died like any beggar. neither wealth nor kingly glory, nor i his loving son, nor any of his kith and kindred, has availed to help him, or to save him from the sentence without reprieve. but he is gone to yonder judgement seat, to give account of his life in this world, carrying with him no advocate whatsoever, except his deeds, good or bad. and the same law is ordained by nature for every man born of woman, and there is no escape. now, therefore, hearken unto me, friends and brethren, people and holy heritage of the lord, whom christ our god hath purchased with his own precious blood, and delivered from the ancient error, and bondage of the adversary. ye yourselves know my manner of life among you; that ever since i knew christ, and was counted worthy to become his servant, i have hated all things, and loved him only, and how this was my desire, to escape from the tempest and vain tumult of the world, and commune alone with him, and in undisturbed peace of soul serve my god and master. but my father's opposition held me back, and the command that biddeth us to honour our fathers. so, by the grace and help of god, i have not laboured in vain, nor spent these days for naught, i have brought my father nigh to christ, and have taught you all to know the one true god, the lord of all; and yet not i, but the grace of god which was with me, which rescued me also from superstitious error, and from the worship of idols, and freed you, o my people, from cruel captivity. so now it is high time to fulfil the service that i promised to god; high time to depart thitherward, where he himself shall lead me, where i may perform my vows which i made unto him. now, therefore, look you out a man whom ye will, to be your leader and king; for by this time ye have been conformed to the will of the lord, and of his commandments nothing hath been hidden from you. walk ye therein; turn not aside, neither to the right hand, nor to the left, and the god of peace be with you all!" when all that company and the common people heard thereof, anon there arose a clamour, an uproar, and a mighty cry and confusion, all weeping like orphans and bewailing their loss. lamenting bitterly, they protested with oaths and with tears, that they would never let him go, but would restrain him and not suffer in any wise his departure. while the common people, and they in authority, were thus crying aloud, the king broke in, and beckoned with his hand to the multitude and charged them to keep silence. he declared that he gave in to their instancy, and dismissed them still grieving, and bearing on their cheeks the signs of sorrow. and ioasaph did thus. there was one of the senators first in favour with ioasaph, a man honoured for his godliness and dignity, barachias by name, who, as hath been already told, when nachor, feigning to be barlaam, was disputing with the philosophers, alone was ready to stand by nachor and fight for him, for his heart was fired with heavenly love. him the king took apart, and spake gently with him, and earnestly besought him to receive the kingdom, and, in the fear of god, to shepherd his people; in order that he himself might take the journey that he desired. but barachias would put aside and reject his offer, saying, "o king, how wrongful is thy judgement, and thy word contrary to divine command! if thou hast learned to love thy neighbour as thyself, with what right art thou eager to shift the burden off thy back and lay it upon mine? if it be good to be king, keep the good to thy self: but, if it be a stone of stumbling and rock of offence to thy soul, why put it in my pathway and seek to trip me up?" when ioasaph perceived that he spake thus, and that his purpose was fixed, he ceased from communing with him. and now, at about the dead of night, he wrote his people a letter, full of much wisdom, expounding to them all godliness; telling them what they should think concerning god, what life, what hymns and what thanksgiving they should offer unto him. next, he charged them to receive none other than barachias to be ruler of the kingdom. then left he in his bed-chamber the roll containing his letter, and, unobserved of all, went forth from his palace. but he might not win through undetected, for, early on the morrow, the tidings, that he was departed, anon made commotion and mourning among the people, and, in much haste, forth went every man for to seek him; they being minded by all means to cut off his flight. and their zeal was not spent in vain; for, when they had occupied all the high-ways, and encompassed all the mountains, and surrounded the pathless ravines, they discovered him in a watercourse, his hands uplifted to heaven, saying the prayer proper of the sixth hour. when they beheld him, they surrounded him, and besought him with team, upbraiding him for departing from them. "but," said he, "why labour ye in vain? no longer hope to have me to your king." yet gave he way to their much opposition, and turned again to his palace. and, when he had assembled all the folk, he signified his will. then with oath he confirmed his word, that he would dwell with them not one day more. "for," said he, "i have fulfilled my ministry toward you, and have omitted naught, neither have i kept back anything that was profitable unto you, in failing to show or teach you, testifying to all the faith in our lord jesus christ, and pointing out the paths of repentance. and now behold i go the road that i have long time desired, and all ye shall see my face no more. wherefore i take you to record this day, as saith the holy apostle, that i am pure from the blood of you all, for i have not shunned to declare unto you all the counsel of god." when they heard this, and perceived the steadfastness of his purpose, that nothing could hinder him from his resolve, they wept like orphans over their bereavement, but could in no wise over-persuade him. then did the king take that barachias, of whom we have already spoken, saying, "this is he, brethren, whom i appoint to be your king." and though barachias stoutly resisted, yet he established him, unwilling and reluctant, upon the royal throne, and placed the diadem on his head, and gave the kingly ring into his hand. then he stood facing the cast and made prayer for king barachias, that his faith toward god might be preserved unwavering, and that he might keep without faltering the path of christ's commandments. therewith he prayed for the clergy and all the flock, asking of god succour for them and salvation, and all that might fitly be asked for their welfare. thus he prayed, and then turning said unto barachias, "behold, brother, i charge thee, as the apostle once adjured his people, 'take heed unto thyself, and to all the flock, over the which the holy ghost hath made thee king, to feed the lord's people, whom he hath purchased with his own blood.' and even as thou wast before me in the knowledge of god, and didst serve him with a pure conscience, so now also show the more zeal in pleasing him. for, as thou hast received of god a mighty sovereignty, thou owest him the greater repayment. render therefore to thy benefactor the debt of thanksgiving, by the keeping of his holy commandments and by turning aside from every path whose end is destruction. for it is with kingdoms as with ships. if one of the sailors blunder it bringeth but small damage to the crew. but if the steersman err, he causeth the whole ship to perish. even so it is with sovranty: if a subject err, he harmeth himself more than the state. but if the king err, he causeth injury to the whole realm. therefore, as one that shall render strict account, if thou neglect aught of thy duty, guard thyself with all diligence in that which is good. hate all pleasure that draweth into sin: for, saith the apostle, 'follow peace with all men, and holiness, without which no man shall see the lord.' consider the wheel of men's affairs, how it runneth round and round, turning and whirling them now up, now down: and amid all its sudden changes, keep thou unchanged a pious mind. to change with every change of affairs betokeneth an unstable heart. but be thou steadfast, wholly established upon that which is good. be not lifted and vainly puffed up because of temporal honour; but, with purified reason, understand the nothingness of thine own nature, and the span-length and swift flight of life here, and death the yoke-fellow of the flesh. if thou consider these things, thou shalt not be cast into the pit of arrogance, but shalt fear god, the true and heavenly king, and verily thou shalt be blessed. for he saith, 'blessed are all they that fear the lord, and walk in his ways,' and 'blessed is the man that feareth the lord: he shall have great delight in his commandments.' and which commandments above all shouldest thou observe? 'blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy,' and 'be ye merciful, as your heavenly father is merciful.' for the fulfilment of this commandment, above all, is required of them that are in high authority. and, soothly, the holder of great authority ought to imitate the giver of that authority to the best of his ability. and herein shall he best imitate god, by considering that nothing is to be preferred before showing mercy. nay, further, nothing so surely draweth the subject to loyalty toward his sovereign as the grace of charity bestowed on such as need it. for the service that cometh from fear is flattery in disguise, with the pretence of respect cozening them that pay heed to it; and the unwilling subject rebelleth when he findeth occasion. whereas he that is held by the ties of loyalty is steadfast in his obedience to the ruling power. wherefore be thou easy of access to all and open thine ears unto the poor, that thou mayest find the ear of god open unto thee. for as we are to our fellow-servants, such shall we find our master to us-ward. and, like as we do hear others, so shall we be heard ourselves: and, as we see, so shall we be seen by the divine all-seeing eye. therefore pay we first mercy for mercy, that we may obtain like for like. "but hear yet another commandment, the fellow of the former; 'forgive, and it shall be forgiven unto you;' and 'if ye forgive not men their trespasses, neither will your heavenly father forgive you your trespasses.' wherefore bear no malice against them that offend against thee; but, when thou askest forgiveness of thy sins, forgive thyself also them that injure thee, because forgiveness is repaid by forgiveness, and by making peace with our fellow-servants we are ourselves delivered from the wrath of our master. again, a lack of compassion towards them that trespass against us maketh our own trespasses unpardonable, even as thou hast heard what befell the man that owed ten thousand talents, how, through his want of pity on his fellow-servant, he was again required to pay all that mighty debt. so we must take good heed lest a like fate betide us. but let us forgive every debt, and cast all anger out of our hearts, in order that our many debts, too, may be forgiven. beside this, and before all things, keep thou that good thing which is committed to thy trust, the holy word of faith wherein thou hast been taught and instructed. and let no tare of heresy grow up amongst you, but preserve the heavenly seed pure and sincere, that it may yield a manifold harvest to the master, when he cometh to demand account of our lives, and to reward us according to our deeds, when the righteous shall shine forth as the sun, but darkness and everlasting shame shall cover the sinners. and now, brethren, i commend you to god, and to the word of his grace, which is able to build you up, and to give you an inheritance among all them which are sanctified." and when he had thus spoken, he kneeled down, as it is written, and prayed again in tears. and he turned him round, and kissed barachias, whom he had chosen to their king, and all the officers. then came a scene fit, belike, to make one weep. they all crowded around him, as though his presence meant life to them, and his departure would reave them of their very souls; and what piteous pleading, what extravagance of grief did they omit? they kissed him; they hung about him; they were beside themselves for anguish of heart. "wo is us," cried they, "for this grievous calamity!" they called him, master, father, saviour, benefactor. "through thine," said they, "we learned to know god, and were redeemed from error, and found rest from every ill. what remaineth us after thou art gone? what evils shall not befall us?" thus saying, they smote upon their breasts, and bewailed the misfortune that had overtaken them. but he with words of comfort hushed their sobs, and promised to be with them still in the spirit though he might no longer abide with them in the body. and when he had thus spoken, in the sight of all he went forth from the palace. and immediately all the people followed him. they despaired of his return; they ran from the city, as from a sight that they could no longer endure. but when they were outside the city, ioasaph addressed them with sharp words, and chode with them harshly; and so they were parted from him, and unwillingly went home, often turning round to look on him, and stumbling on their road. and some of the hotter spirits also followed afar off weeping, until the shades of night parted them one from another. xxxvii. thus this noble man went forth from his palace rejoicing, as when after long exile a man returneth with joy to his own country. outwardly he wore the robes that he was wont to wear, but beneath was the hair-shirt which barlaam had given him. that night he halted at a poor man's cabin, and stripped himself of his outer raiment, which, as his last alms, he bestowed upon his poor host, and thus by the prayers of that poor man, as well as of so many others, he made god his ally, and put on his grace and help as a garment of salvation; and, clad in a coat of gladness, thus went he off to his hermit-life, carrying with him neither bread, nor water, nor any necessary food, with no garment upon him save the aforesaid rough shirt. for his heart was wounded with a marvellous longing and divine love for christ the immortal king; he was beside himself with longing, mad for god, possessed by love of him; "for love," he saith, "is strong as fire." so drunken was he with this heavenly love, so parched with thirst, according to him that saith, "like as the hart desireth the water-brooks, so longeth my soul after time, o god. my soul is athirst for the mighty and living god"; or, as the soul that is sick of love crieth in the song of songs, "thou hast ravished us, ravished us with the desire of thee"; and, "let me see thy countenance, and let me hear thy voice, for thy voice is a sweet voice, and thy countenance is comely." it was the desire for this unspeakable comeliness of christ that fired the hearts of the apostolic quire and of the martyr folk to despise the things that are seen, and all this temporal life, and the rather to choose ten thousand forms of death and torture, being enamoured of his heavenly beauty, and bearing in mind the charm that the divine word used for to win our love. such was the fire that was kindled in the soul of this fair youth also, noble in body, but most noble and kingly in soul, that led him to despise all earthly things alike, to trample on all bodily pleasures, and to contemn riches and glory and the praise of men, to lay aside diadem and purple, as of less worth than cobwebs, and to surrender himself to all the hard and irksome toils of the ascetic life, crying, "o my christ, my soul is fixed upon thee, and thy right hand hath upholden me." thus, without looking back, he passed into the depth of the desert; and, laying aside, like a heavy burden and clog, the stress of transitory things, he rejoiced in the spirit, and looked steadfastly on christ, whom he longed for, and cried aloud to him, as though he were there present to hear his voice, saying, "lord, let mine eyes never again see the good things of this present world. never, from this moment, let my soul be excited by these present vanities, but fill mine eyes with spiritual tears; direct my goings in thy way, and show me thy servant barlaam. show me him that was the means of my salvation, that i may learn of him the exact rule of this lonely and austere life, and may not be tripped up through ignorance of the wiles of the enemy. grant me, o lord, to discover the way whereby to attain unto thee, for my soul is sick of love for thee, and i am athirst for thee, the well of salvation." these were the thoughts of his heart continually, and he communed with god, being made one with him by prayer and sublime meditation. and thus eagerly he pursued the road, hoping to arrive at the place where barlaam dwelt. his meat was the herbs that grow in the desert; for he carried nothing with him, as i have already said, save his own bones, and the ragged garment that was around him. but whilst he found some food, though scanty and insufficient, from the herbs, of water he was quite destitute in that waterless and dry desert. and so at noon-tide, as he held on his way under the fierce blaze of the sun, he was parched with thirst in the hot drought of that desert place, and he suffered the extreme of anguish. but desire of christ conquered nature, and the thirst wherewith he thirsted for god bedewed the heat of thirst for water. now the devil, being envious and full of hate for that which is beautiful, unable to endure the sight of such steadfastness of purpose, and glowing love towards god, raised up against ioasaph many temptations in the wilderness. he called to his remembrance his kingly glory, and his magnificent body-guard, his friends, kinsfolk and companions, and how the lives of all had depended on his life, and he minded him of the other solaces of life. then he would confront him with the hardness of virtue, and the many sweats that she requireth, with the weakness of his flesh, with his lack of practice in such rigours, the long years to come, this present distress from thirst, his want of any comfort, and the unendingness of his toils. in a word, he raised a great dust-cloud of reasonings in his mind, exactly, i ween, as it hath been recorded of the mighty antony. but, when the enemy saw himself too weak to shake that purpose (for ioasaph set christ before his mind, and glowed with love of him, and was well strengthened by hope, and steadfast in faith, and recked nothing of the devil and his suggestions), then was the adversary ashamed of having fallen in the first assault. so he came by another road (for many are his paths of wickedness), and endeavoured to overthrow and terrify ioasaph by means of divers apparitions. sometimes he appeared to him in black, and such indeed he is: sometimes with a drawn sword he leapt upon him, and threatened to strike, unless he speedily turned back. at other times he assumed the shapes of all manner of beasts, roaring and making a terrible din and bellowing; or again he became a dragon, adder, or basilisk. but that fair and right noble athlete kept his soul in quietness, for he had made the most high his refuge: and, being sober in mind, he laughed the evil one to scorn, and said, "i know thee, deceiver, who thou art, which stiffest up this trouble for me; which from the beginning didst devise mischief against mankind, and art ever wicked, and never stintest to do hurt. how becoming and right proper is thy habit, that thou shouldest take the shape of beasts and of creeping things, and thus display thy bestial and crooked nature, and thy venomous and hurtful purpose! wherefore, wretch, attempt the impossible? for ever since i discovered that these be the contrivances and bug-bears of thy malice, i have now no more anxiety concerning thee. the lord is on my side, and i shall see my desire upon mine enemies. i shall go upon the adder and basilisk, the which thou dost resemble; thee, the lion and dragon i shall tread under my feet; for i am strengthened with the might of christ. let mine enemies be ashamed and turned backward: let them be driven and put to shame suddenly." thus speaking, and girding on that invincible weapon, the sign of the cross, he made vain the devil's shows. for straightway all the beasts and creeping things disappeared, like as the smoke vanisheth, and like as wax melteth at the fire. and he, strong in the might of christ, went on his way rejoicing and giving thanks unto the lord. but there dwelt in that desert many divers beasts, and all kinds of serpents, and dragon-shaped monsters, and these met him, not now as apparitions but in sober sooth, so that his path was beset by fear and toil. but he overcame both, for love, as saith the scripture, cast out fear, and longing made toil light. thus he wrestled with many sundry misfortunes and hardships until, after many days, he arrived at that desert of the land of senaar, wherein barlaam dwelt. there also he found water and quenched the burning of his thirst. xxxviii. now two full years spent ioasaph wandering about the ocean of that desert, without finding barlaam; for here also god was proving the steadfastness of his purpose, and the nobility of his soul. he lived thus in the open air, scorched with heat or frozen with cold, and, as one in search of precious treasure, continually looking everywhere for his treasured friend, the aged barlaam. frequent were the temptations and assaults of the evil spirits that he encountered, and many the hardships that he endured through the lack of herbs that he needed for meat, because the desert, being dry, yielded even these in but scant supply. but, being kindled by love of her master, this adamantine and indomitable soul bore these annoyances more easily than other men bear their pleasures. wherefore he failed not of the succour that is from above, but, many as were the sorrows and toils chat he endured, comfort came to him from christ, and, asleep or awake, refreshed his soul. by the space of those two years ioasaph went about continually, seeking him for whom he yearned, and rivers of waters ran from his eyes, as he implored god, crying aloud and saying, "show me, o lord, show me the man that was the means of my knowledge of thee, and the cause of my many blessings. because of the multitude of mine offences, deprive me not of this good thing; but grant me to see him, and fight with him the ascetic fight." by the grace of god, he found a cave, by following footsteps that led thither. there he met a monk pursuing a hermit life. him he embraced and saluted tenderly. he asked where to find barlaam's dwelling, and told him his own tale, laying all bare. of him then he learned the abode of the man whom he sought, and thither went foot-hot, as when a cunning hunter happeneth on the tracks of his game. and when he had met with certain signs, pointed out to him by this other old hermit, he went on rejoicing, strong in hope, like a child hoping after long absence to see his father. for when divine love hath broken into a soul, it proveth hotter and stronger than the natural. so he stood before the door of the cave, and knocked, saying "benedic, father, benedic!" when barlaam heard his voice, he came forth from the cave, and by the spirit knew him, who by outward appearance could not easily be known, because of the marvellous change and alteration that had changed and altered his face from its former bloom of youth; for ioasaph was black with the sun's heat, and overgrown with hair, and his cheeks were fallen in, and his eyes deep sunken, and his eyelids seared with floods of tears, and much distress of hunger. and ioasaph recognised his spiritual father, for his features were, for the more part, the same. so the old man stood, and, facing the east, offered up to god a prayer of thanksgiving; and, after the prayer, when they had said the amen, they embraced and kissed each other affectionately, taking their full fill of long deferred desire. but, when they had done with embracing and greeting, they sat them down and conversed. barlaam began, saying, "welcome art thou, son well beloved son of god, and inheritor of the heavenly kingdom through jesus christ our lord, whom thou lovest, whom thou rightly desirest above the things that are temporal and corruptible! like a prudent and wise merchant, thou hast sold all, and bought the pearl that is beyond price, and hast found the treasure that cannot be stolen, hidden in the field of the commandments of the lord; thou hast parted with all, and spared naught of the things that so soon pass away, that thou mightest purchase that field for thyself. the lord give thee the eternal for the temporal, the things that are incorruptible and wax not old for the corruptible! "but tell me, dearly beloved, how thou camest hither? how did thy matters speed after my departure? and hath thy father learned to know god, or is he still carried away with his former foolishness, still under the bondage of devilish deceits?" thus questioned barlaam, and ioasaph answered, telling him piece by piece all that had befallen him since he went away; and in how many ways the lord had prospered him, until they were come together again. the old man listened with pleasure and amazement, and with hot tears said, "glory to thee, our god, that ever standest by and succourest them that love thee! glory to thee, o christ, king of all and god all-good, that it was thy pleasure that the seed, which i sowed in the heart of ioasaph, thy servant, should thus bring forth fruit an hundredfold worthy of the husbandman and master of our souls! glory to thee, good paraclete, the all-holy spirit, because thou didst vouchsafe unto this man to partake of that grace which thou gavest thine holy apostles, and by his hand hast delivered multitudes of people from superstitious error, and enlightened them with the true knowledge of god!" thus was god blessed by both, and thus were they conversing and rejoicing in the grace of god until evenfall. then stood they up for to pray and to perform the sacred services. then also remembered they that it was meal-time, and barlaam spread his lavish table, laden with spiritual dainties, but with little to attract the palate of sense. these were uncooked worts, and a few dates, planted and tended by barlaam's own hands, such as are found in the same desert, and wild herbs. so they gave thanks and partook of the victuals set before them, and drank water from the neighbour springing well, and again gave thanks to god, who openeth his hand and filleth all things living. then they arose again, and, when they had ended their night hours, after prayer, they joined in spiritual converse again, discoursing wholesome words, and full of heavenly wisdom, all the night long until daybreak bade them once more remember the hour of prayer. so ioasaph abode with barlaam for some many years, pursuing this marvellous and more than human life, dwelling with him as with a father and tutor, in all obedience and lowliness, exercising himself in every kind of virtue, and learning well from practice how to wrestle with the invisible spirits of evil. from that time forward he mortified all his sinful passions, and made the will of the flesh as subject to the spirit as slave is to his master. he was altogether forgetful of comforts or repose, and tyrannized over sleep as over a wicked servant. and, in brief, such was his practice of the religious life, that barlaam, who had spent many years therein, marvelled at him, and failed to equal the earnestness of his life. for he took only so much of that coarse and cheerless food as would keep him alive; else had he died afore his time, and forfeited the reward of his well-doing. he subdued himself to watchings, as though he were without flesh and body. in prayer and mental exercise his work was unceasing, and all the time of his life was spent in spiritual and heavenly contemplation, so that not an hour, nor even a single moment was wasted, from the day that he came to dwell in the desert. for this is the end of monastic life, never to be found idle in spiritual employment: and well herein did this noble and active runner of the heavenly race order his way. and he kept his ardour unquenched from beginning to end, ever ascending in his heart, and going from strength to strength, and continually adding desire to desire, and zeal to zeal, until he arrived at the bliss that he had hoped and longed for. xxxix. thus did barlaam and ioasaph dwell together, rivals in the good rivalry, apart from all anxious care and all the turmoils of life, possessing their minds undisturbed and clear of all confusion. after their many labours after godliness, one day barlaam called to him his spiritual son, whom he had begotten through the gospel, and opened his mouth to discourse of spiritual things, saying, "long ago, dearly beloved ioasaph, was it destined that thou shouldest dwell in this wilderness; and, in answer to my prayer for thee, christ promised me that i should see it before the ending of my life. i have seen my desire: i have seen thee severed from the world and the concerns of the world, united to christ, thy mind never wavering, and come to the measure of the perfection of his fulness. now therefore as the time of my departure is at the door, and seeing that my desire, that hath grown with my growth and aged with my years, to be for ever with christ, is even now being fulfilled, thou must bury my body in the earth and restore dust to dust, but thyself abide for the time to come in this place, holding fast to thy spiritual life, and making remembrance of me, poor as i am. for i fear lest perchance the darksome army of fiends may stand in the way of my soul, by reason of the multitude of mine ignorances. "so do thou, my son, think no scorn of the laboriousness of thy religious life, neither dread the length of the time, nor the tricks of devils. but, strong in the grace of christ, confidently laugh at the weakness of these thy foes; and, as for the hardness of thy toils, and the long duration of the time, be as one that daily expecteth his departure hence, and as if the same day were the beginning and the end of thy religious life. thus, always forgetting the things which are behind, and reaching forth unto those things which are before, press toward the mark for the prize of the high calling of god in christ jesus, according to the exhortation of the holy apostle, who saith, 'let us not faint; but though our outward man perish, yet the inward man is renewed day by day. for our light affliction, which is but for a moment, worketh for us a far more exceeding eternal weight of glory; while we look not at the things which are seen, but at the things which are not seen: for the things which are seen are temporal; but the things which are not seen are eternal." "ponder thou over these things, beloved: quit thee like a man; yea, be strong; and, as a good soldier, do thy diligence to please him who hath called thee to be a soldier. and, even if the evil one stir in thee thoughts of neglecting duty, and thou art minded to slacken the string of thy purpose, fear not his devices, but remember the lord's command, which saith, 'in the world ye shall have tribulation, but be of good cheer; i have overcome the world.' wherefore, rejoice in the lord alway; for he hath chosen and separated thee out of the world, and set thee, as it were before his countenance. the master, who hath called thee with a holy calling, is alway near. be careful for nothing, but in everything, by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let thy requests be made known unto god. for he himself hath said, "i will never leave thee, nor forsake thee." so, by the hardness of thy life, and by scorn of its rigours, win such thoughts as these, and rejoice, remembering our lord god, for he saith, 'i remembered god and was glad.' "but when the adversary, seeking another fashion of war, proposeth high and arrogant thoughts, and suggesteth the glory of the kingdom of this world, which thou hast forsaken, and all its lures, hold out, as a shield before thee, the saving word that saith, 'when ye shall have done all those things which are commanded you, say, "we are unprofitable servants, for we have done that which was our duty to do."' and, indeed, which of us is able to repay the debt that we owe our master, for that he, though he was rich, yet for our sakes became poor, that we through his poverty might become rich, and, being without suffering, yet suffered, that we might be delivered from suffering? what thanks hath the servant if he suffer like as his master? but we fall far short of his sufferings. meditate upon these things, casting down imaginations, and every high thing that exalteth itself against the knowledge of god, and bringing into captivity every thought to the obedience of christ. and the peace of god which passeth all understanding shall keep thy heart and thoughts in christ jesus." when blessed barlaam had so said, ioasaph's tears knew no measure, but, like water from the brimming fountain, bedewed him and the ground whereon he sat. he mourned over the parting, and earnestly implored that he might be his companion on his last journey, and might remain no longer in this world after barlaam's decease, saying, "wherefore, father, seekest thou only thine own, and not thy neighbour's welfare? how fulfillest thou perfect love in this, according to him that said, 'thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself,' in departing thyself to rest and life, and leaving me to tribulation and distress? and, before i have been well exercised in the conflicts of the religious life, before i have learned the wily attacks of the enemy, why expose me to fight singlehanded against their marshalled host? and for what purpose but to see me overthrown by their mischievous machinations, and to see me die, alas! the true spiritual and eternal death? that is the fate which must befall inexperienced and cowardly monks. but, i beseech thee, pray the lord to take me also together with thee from life. yea, by the very hope that thou hast of receiving the reward of thy labour, pray that, after thy departure, i may not live one day more in the world, nor wander into the ocean depths of this desert." while ioasaph spake thus in tears, the old man cheeked him gently and calmly, saying, "son, we ought not to resist the judgements of god, which are beyond our reach. for though i have oftentimes prayed concerning this matter, and constrained the master, that cannot be constrained, not to part us one from the other, yet have i been taught by his goodness that it is not expedient for thee now to lay aside the burden of the flesh: but thou must remain behind in the practice of virtue, until the crown, which thou art weaving, be more glorious. as yet, thou hast not striven enough after the recompense in store for thee, but must toil yet a little longer, that thou mayest joyfully enter into the joy of thy lord. for myself, i am, as i reckon, well-nigh an hundred winters old, and have now spent seventy and five years in this desert place. but for thee, even if thy days be not so far lengthened as mine, yet must thou approach thereto, as the lord ordereth, that thou mayest prove no unworthy match for them that have borne the burden and heat of the day. therefore, beloved, gladly accept the decrees of god. what god hath ordered, who, of men, can scatter? endure, then, under the protection of his grace. "but be thou ever sober against thoughts other than these; and, like a right precious treasure, keep safely from robbers thy purity of heart, stepping up day by day to higher work and contemplation, that that may be fulfilled in thee, which the saviour promised to his friends, when he said, 'if any man love me, he will keep my word: and my father will love him, and we will come unto him, and make our abode with him.'" with these words, and many others, full worthy of that sanctified soul and inspired tongue, did the old man comfort ioasaph's anguished soul. then he sent him unto certain brethren, which abode a long way off, for to fetch the things fitting for the holy sacrifice. and ioasaph girded up his loins, and with all speed fulfilled his errand: for he dreaded lest peradventure, in his absence, barlaam might pay the debt of nature, and, yielding up the ghost to god, might inflict on him the loss of missing his departing words and utterances, his last orisons and blessings. so when ioasaph had manfully finished his long journey, and had brought the things required for the holy sacrifice, saintly barlaam offered up to god the unbloody sacrifice. when he had communicated himself, and also given to ioasaph of the undefiled mysteries of christ, he rejoiced in the spirit. and when they had taken together of their ordinary food, barlaam again fed ioasaph's soul with edifying words, saying, "well-beloved son, no longer in this world shall we share one common hearth and board; for now i go my last journey, even the way of my fathers. needs must thou, therefore, prove thy loving affection for me by thy keeping of god's commandments, and by thy continuance in this place even to the end, living as thou hast learned and been instructed, and alway remembering my poor and slothful soul. rejoice, therefore, with great joy, and make merry with the gladness that is in christ, because thou hast exchanged the earthly and corruptible for the eternal and incorruptible; and because there draweth nigh the reward of thy works, and thy rewarder is already at hand, who shall come to see the vineyard which thou hast dressed, and shall richly pay thee the wages of thine husbandry. 'faithful is the saying, and worthy of all acceptation,' as proclaimed by paul the divine, 'for if we be dead with him, we shall also live with him; if we endure, we shall also reign with him in his eternal and everlasting kingdom, being illuminated with the light unapproachable, and guerdoned with the effulgence of the blessed and life-giving trinity.'" thus until even-tide and all night long did barlaam converse with ioasaph, who wept tears that could not be stayed, and could not bear the parting. but just as day began to dawn, barlaam ended his discourse, lifted up his hands and eyes to heaven, and offered his thanks to god, thus saying, "o lord, my god, who art everywhere present, and fillest all things, i thank thee, for that thou hast looked upon my lowliness, and hast granted me to fulfil the course of this mine earthly pilgrimage in thy true faith, and in the way of thy commandments. and now, thou lover of good, all-merciful master, receive me into thine everlasting habitations; and remember not all the sins that i have committed against thee, in knowledge or in ignorance. defend also this thy faithful servant, before whom thou hast granted to me, thine unprofitable servant, to stand. deliver him from all vanity, and all despiteful treatment of the adversary, and set him clear of the many-meshed nets which the wicked one spreadeth abroad for to trip all them that would full fain be saved. destroy, almighty lord, all the might of the deceiver from before the face of thy servant, and grant him authority to trample on the baneful head of the enemy of our souls. send down from on high the grace of thy holy spirit; and strengthen him against the invisible hosts, that he may receive at thy hands the crown of victory, and that in him thy name may be glorified, the father, the son, and the holy ghost, for to thee belongeth glory and praise for ever and ever. amen." thus prayed he, and in fatherly wise embraced ioasaph, and saluted him with an holy kiss. then he sealed himself with the sign of the cross, and gathered up his feet, and, with exceeding great joy, as at the home-coming of friends, departed on that blessed journey, to receive his reward yonder, an old man and full of days in the spirit. xl. then did ioasaph embrace the good father, with all the devotion and sorrow that can be told, and washed his corpse with his tears. then he wrapped it in the hair-shirt, which barlaam had given him in his palace; and over him he recited the proper psalms, chanting all the day long, and throughout the night, and watering the venerable body of the saint with his tears. on the morrow, he made a grave hard by the cave, and thither reverently bore the sacred body, and there, like a good and honourable son, laid his spiritual father in his sepulchre. and then, the fire of grief kindling all the hotter within his soul, he set himself to pray the more earnestly, saying: "o lord my god, hearken unto my voice, when i cry unto thee. have mercy upon me, and hear me, for i seek thee with all my heart. my soul hath sought for thee: o hide not thy face from me, and turn not away in anger from thy servant. be thou my helper; cast me not utterly away, and forsake me not, o god my saviour, because my father and mother forsake me; but do thou, o lord, take me up. teach me thy way, o lord, and lead me in the right way because of mine enemies. deliver me not over unto the souls of them that afflict me; for i have been cast upon thee ever since i was born; thou art my god even from my mother's womb. o go not from me, because, except thee, there is none to help me. for lo, i set the hope of my soul upon the ocean of thy mercies. be thou the pilot of my soul, thou that steerest all creation with the unspeakable forethought of thy wisdom; and shew thou me the way that i should walk in; and, as thou art a good god and a lover of men, save me by the prayers and intercessions of barlaam thy servant, for thou art my god, and thee i glorify, the father, the son, and the holy ghost, world without end. amen." thus prayed he, and sat him down nigh the sepulchre, a-weeping. and as he sat, he fell asleep, and saw those dread men, whom he had seen before, coming to him, and carrying him away to the great and marvellous plain, and bringing him to that glorious and exceeding bright city. when he had passed within the gate, there met him others, gloriously apparelled with much light, having in their hands crowns radiant with unspeakable beauty, such as mortal eye hath never seen. and, when ioasaph enquired, "whose are these exceeding bright crowns of glory, which i see?" "thine," said they, "is the one, prepared for thee, because of the many souls which thou hast saved, and now made still more beautiful because of the religious life that thou leadest, if thou continue therein bravely until the end. and this other crown is thine also; but it must thou give unto thy father, who, by thy means, turned from his evil way unto the lord, and was truly penitent." but ioasaph was as one sore vexed, and said, "how is it possible that, for his repentance alone, my father should receive reward equal to mine, that have laboured so much?" thus spake he, and straightway thought that he saw barlaam, as it were, chiding him and saying, "these are my words, ioasaph, which i once spake unto thee, saying, 'when thou waxest passing rich, thou wilt not be glad to distribute,' and thou understoodest not my saying. but now, why art thou displeased at thy father's equality with thee in honour, and art not rather glad at heart that thine orisons in his behalf have been heard?" then ioasaph said unto him, as he was ever wont to say, "pardon! father, pardon! but shew me where thou dwellest?" barlaam answered, "in this mighty and exceeding fair city. it is my lot to dwell in the mid-most street of the city, a street that flasheth with light supernal." again ioasaph thought he asked barlaam to bring him to his own habitation, and, in friendly wise, to shew him the sights thereof. but barlaam said that his time was not yet come to win those habitations, while he was under the burden of the flesh. "but," said he, "if thou persevere bravely, even as i charged thee, in a little while thou shalt come hither, and gain the same habitations, and obtain the same joy and glory, and be my companion for ever." hereupon ioasaph awoke out of sleep, but his soul was still full of that light and ineffable glory; and greatly wondering, he raised to his lord a song of thanksgiving. and he continued to the end, verily leading on earth the life of an angel, and after the death of his aged friend using himself to severer austerity. twenty and five years old was he when he left his earthly kingdom, and adopted the monastic life; and thirty and five years in this vast desert did he, like one dis-fleshed, endure rigours above the endurance of man, but not before he had delivered the souls of many men from the soul-devouring dragon, and presented them to god, saved for aye; winning herewith the apostolic grace. in will he had proved a martyr, and had with boldness confessed christ before kings and tyrants, and had proved himself the mighty-voiced preacher of his greatness, and had overthrown many spirits of wickedness in the desert, and had overcome all in the strength of christ. partaking richly of the gift of grace from above, he kept his mind's eye purified from every earth-born cloud, and looked forward to the things that are to come, as though they were already come. christ was his recompense for all: christ was his desire: christ he ever saw as present with him: christ and his fair beauty everywhere met his sight, according to the saying of the prophet, "i have set god always before me; for he is on my right hand, therefore i shall not fall." and again, "my soul cleaveth to thee; thy right hand hath upholden me." for verily ioasaph's soul clave to christ, being knit to him in indissoluble union. from this marvellous work he never swerved, never altered the rule of his ascetic life, from beginning to end, but maintained his zeal from his youth even until old age; or rather, he daily advanced higher in virtue, and daily gained purer power of vision. thus did ioasaph spend his days, and render unto him that called him labour worthy of his calling, having crucified the world to himself, and himself unto the world, and, at the last, departed in peace unto the god of peace, and passed to that master whom he had alway longed for. there he appeared in the immediate presence of the lord, and was crowned with the crown of glory already prepared for him: there it is granted to him to behold christ, to be with christ, to rejoice for ever in the fair beauty of christ, into whose hands he commended his spirit, when he departed to walk in the land of the living, where is the song of them that feast, the dwelling-place of them that rejoice. as for his venerable body, it befell thus; about the very hour of ioasaph's death, there came by divine revelation, from one of the neighbouring cells, a certain holy man. it was the same that once pointed out to ioasaph his way to barlaam. this man honoured the corpse with sacred hymns, and shed tears, the token of affection, over him, and performed all the last christian rites, and laid him in the sepulchre of his father barlaam; for it was only meet that their bodies should rest side by side, since their souls were to dwell through eternity together. in obedience to the strict command of a dread angel that appeared to him in a dream, this hermit, who had performed the last rites, journeyed to the kingdom of india, and, entering in to king barachias, made known unto him all that had befallen barlaam, and this blessed ioasaph. barachias, making no delay, set forth with a mighty host, and arrived at the cave, and beheld their sepulchre, and wept bitterly over it, and raised the gravestone. there he descried barlaam and ioasaph lying, as they had been in life. their bodies had not lost their former hue, but were whole and uncorrupt, together with their garments. these, the consecrated tabernacles of two holy souls, that sent forth full sweet savour, and showed naught distressful, were placed by king barachias in costly tombs and conveyed by him into his own country. now when the people heard tell of that which had come to pass, there assembled a countless multitude out of all the cities and regions round about, to venerate and view the bodies of these saints. thereupon, sooth to say, they chanted the sacred hymns over them, and vied one with another to light lamps lavishly, and rightly and fitly, might one say, in honour of these children and inheritors of light. and with splendour and much solemnity they laid their bodies in the church which ioasaph had built from the very foundation. and many miracles and cures, during the translation and deposition of their relics, as also in later times, did the lord work by his holy servants. and king barachias and all the people beheld the mighty virtues that were shown by them; and many of the nations round about, that were sick of unbelief and ignorance of god, believed through the miracles that were wrought at their sepulchre. and all they that saw and heard of the angelic life of ioasaph, and of his love of god from his childhood upward, marvelled, and in all things glorified god that alway worketh together with them that love him, and granteth them exceeding great reward. here endeth this history, which i have written, to the best of my ability, even as i heard it from the truthful lips of worthy men who delivered it unto me. and may god grant that all we that read or hear this edifying story may obtain the heritage of such as have pleased the lord, by the prayers and intercessions of blessed barlaam and ioasaph, of whom this story telleth, in christ jesu our lord; to whom belongeth worship, might, majesty and glory, with the father and the holy ghost, now and for evermore, world without end. amen. transcriber's note: the spelling and accents of sanskrit names is not consistent in the book. the table of contents is not part of the original book. the buddha a drama in five acts and four interludes by paul carus chicago the open court publishing co. london: strand * * * * * contents directions to the stage manager. cast of characters. glossary of foreign terms. act i. act ii. act iii. act iv. act v. * * * * * directions to the stage manager. the scenery can be made very attractive by both historical accuracy and a display of oriental luxury, but the drama may easily be performed with simple means at a small cost without losing its dramatic effect. some of the changes, however, should be very rapid. the interludes can be replaced by lantern slide pictures, or may be omitted. if the interludes are retained there need not be any intermission in the whole drama. the music for the buddha's hymn of victory, pages and (see _the open court_, xix, ); the dirge on page , (_open court_, xix, ); yasodhara's song, page (_open court_, xviii, ); and the doxology, page and at the end (_open court_, xviii, ), may be found in a collection entitled _buddhist hymns_ (chicago, open court publishing co., ). copyright by the open court publishing co. * * * * * cast of characters. _all vowels to be pronounced as in italian._ siddháttha gótama, prince of the sakyas, later on the buddha _b_ suddhodana, king of the sakyas, father of siddháttha _s_ pajapati, queen of the sakyas, aunt and stepmother of siddháttha _p_ princess yasodhara, siddháttha's wife _y_ rahula, yasodhara's son _r_ devadatta, brother of yasodhara _dd_ kala udayin, a gardener's son _k_ gopa, yasodhara's maid _g_ visakha, a brahman, prime minister of suddhodana _v_ devala, a sakya captain _d_ bimbisara, king of magadha _bb_ ambapali, king bimbisara's favorite _ap_ nagadeva, prime minister of mágadha, leader of an embassy _n_ general siha, in the service of king bimbisara _gs_ jeta, prince of northern kosala _j_ anatha pindika, a wealthy man of savattha _a_ mara, the evil one _m_ channa, prince siddháttha's groom _ch_ master of ceremonies at magadha _mc_ general siha's captain _c_ a brahman priest _pr_ a farmer _f_ servant _st_ ministers, officers, soldiers, trumpeters, villagers, a shepherd. singers: mara's daughters, angels, brahma, vishnu, shiva. * * * * * glossary of foreign terms. buddha, the enlightened one, the saviour. bodhi, enlightenment or wisdom. bodhisatta, a seeker of the bodhi, one who endeavors to become a buddha. bodhi tree, the tree under which buddha acquires enlightenment. muni, thinker or sage. sakyamuni, the sage of the sakyas, the buddha. tathagata, a title of buddha, which probably means "the perfect one," or "he who has reached completion." nirvana (in pali, "nibbana") eternal bliss. kapilavatthu, capital of the sakyas. kosala, an indian state divided into northern and southern kosala. savátthi, capital of northern kosala. jetavana, the pleasure garden of prince jeta at savátthi. mágadha, a large kingdom in the ganges valley. rajagáha, capital of magadha. uruvela, a place near benares. arada and u'draka, two philosophers. licchávi, a princely house of vesali. nirgrántha (lit. "liberated from bonds"), a name adopted by the adherents of the jaina sect. indra, in the time of buddha worshiped by the people as the most powerful god. issara, the lord, a name of god indra. yama, the god of death. káli, a brahman goddess, called also durga. * * * * * act i. first scene. [a tropical garden in kapilavatthu, in the background mountains, at a distance the snow-capped peaks of the himalayas. on the right near the front a marble bench surrounded with bushes. further back the palace entrance of the raja's residence. above the entrance a balcony. on the left a fortified gate with a guard house; all built luxuriously in antique indian style.] _present_: suddhodana, _the king_ (_s_); pajapati, _the queen_ (_p_), _and the minister of state_ visakha (_v_). _s._ my son siddhattha truly loves his wife, and since their wedlock has been blessed by this sweet, promising, this hale and healthy child, his melancholy will give way to joy, and we reclaim his noble energies to do good service for our race and state. new int'rests and new duties give new courage and thus this babe will prove his father's saviour for he will tie his soul to life again. _p._ i fear his grief lies deeper than you think. _s._ what sayest thou, my trusty counselor? _v._ this is the last hope which i have for him, i followed your advice and tried all means to cure siddhattha of his pensive mood. i taught him all that will appeal to man: the sports of youth, the joy of poetry and art, the grandeur of our ancient lore, the pleasures e'en of wanton sense; but naught would satisfy the yearnings of his heart. _s._ yet for religion he shows interest: he ponders on the problems of the world. _v._ indeed he ponders on life's meaning much, investigates the origin of things but irreligious are his ways of thought. he shows no reverence for issara, and indra is to him a fairy tale. he grudgeth to the gods a sacrifice and sheddeth tears at immolated lambs. oh no! he's not religious. if he were, his ills could easily be cured by faith, by confidence in issara, the lord. _s._ what then is your opinion of the case? _v._ siddhattha is a youth of rarest worth, and he surpasseth men in every virtue except in one.--he is too independent: he recognizeth no authority, neither of men nor gods. he suffereth [_more and more impressively_] from the incurable disease of thought. _s._ cure thought with thought, teach him philosophy, show him the purpose of our holy writ. instruct him in the meaning of the vedas, reveal to him their esoteric sense. _v._ my lord, i did, but he is critical, he makes objections and will not believe. he raises questions which i cannot answer, and his conclusions are most dangerous. _p._ it seems to me that you exaggerate; siddhattha is not dangerous. he is as gentle as my sister was, his mother, and almost overkind to every one. _v._ i know, my gracious lady, but e'en kindness may harmful be, if it is out of place. _s._ i see no danger in his gentle nature. _v._ but he lacks strength, decision, warlike spirit. _s._ that cometh with maturer years. _v._ i doubt it: your son, my lord, not only hath no faith in holy writ, neither does he believe in caste-distinction, and he would upset the sanctioned order of our institutions. he would abolish sacrifice and holdeth the brahman ritual in deep contempt. _s._ your words alarm me. _v._ rightly so; i fear that he will stir the people to rebellion; but since a child is born to him, his mind may turn from dreams to practical affairs. there are some men who care not for themselves, who scorn high caste, position, wealth and honor, so far as they themselves may be concerned, but they are anxious for their children's fortune, and so siddhattha soon may change his views. _s._ let us be patient for a while yet longer. keep everything unpleasant out of sight, invite him merry company. remove his gloomy cousin devadatta. he tries to reach a state of bliss by fasts, his very play is penance and contrition. _p._ ananda is a better boon companion, he is not so morose as devadatta. _s._ neither is he the right friend for my son. i grant he has a loving disposition, but he is pensive too. surround siddhattha with lads such as the gardner's jolly son, kala udayin. like a lark he warbles! would there were more like him. he jokes and laughs and never makes a sullen face. but tell me how is to-day kala udayin's father? _v._ his sickness turns from bad to worse. i fear he cannot live. _s._ [_with concern_] have him removed from here; siddhattha likes him much and if he knew udayin's sorry fate, it might undo all good effects of joyful fatherhood. _v._ the best will be to move him in the night. _s._ move him by night, and do it soon.--but hush, yasodhara is coming with her babe. yasodhara (_y_) _and two attendant maids, one carries an umbrella, shading the princess; the other,_ gopa (_g_), _carries the infant_. _p._ [_meets her and kisses her._] welcome, thou sweetest flower of our garden, thou ray of sunshine in siddhattha's life. _s._ my dearest daughter! how is rahula? _y._ my royal father, rahula is growing, and he increases daily in his weight; to-day he smiled at me most cunningly. i'll lay him down, for he is fast asleep. _all enter the palace. the stage remains empty a moment. soft, serious music (buddha's "hymn of victory") is heard._ second scene. siddhattha (_b_) _and_ kala udayin (_k_) _enter_. _k._ my sweet prince, when you are king you must appoint me court jester. will you, my good lord? we two are good contrasts: you full of dignity upon a royal throne, a golden crown upon your head, the scepter in your hand, and i dressed in motley with cap and bells. heigh ho! that will be jolly. and after all we are so much alike! _b._ a royal crown shall never grace my head. _k._ and why should it not, sweet prince? _b._ i have a higher aim, a greater mission. what is a kingdom? what are wealth and power? what crown and scepter? they are transient things, i yearn for the immortal state, nirvana. _k._ then wilt thou be a buddha? oh, even then will i follow thee. _he kneels down with clasped hands._ wilt thou a holy buddha be, o keep me in thy company though i'm a jester. i'll be good. let me attain beatitude. _b._ rise kala, rise, i am a mortal man, i'm not omniscient, nor have i yet attained the goal of goals, enlightenment.-- tell me, why dost thou think we are alike? _k._ my lord, you have no ambition to be a king; you think the world is full of vanity, and you consider that life and its glory will pass away. that is exactly what i think. i agree with you. only, you are of a serious disposition and take the matter to heart, while i think it is great fun. what is the use of thinking so much. we are all like bubbles: we float in the air, and then the bubble bursts and this life is over. i am now a poor boy. i fear no change. in a future incarnation i may be born as the son of a king, like you. and think of it, after a few million years, this whole world, this big bulky stupid institution, this home of so many villains, and a couple of good ones like us two among them, the theater of rascalities, of vanities, of follies, will be scattered to the winds, as if it had never existed. be merry, my prince, so long as the comedy lasts. devadatta (_dd._) _appears in the background. his cheeks are sunken and his face is gloomy. his eye has a fanatic expression._ _b._ consider, it may prove a tragedy. _k._ let it be what it may be. to me it will be what i think it is. it is a huge joke. _b._ but who will laugh at it, my friend? _k._ i will. _b._ kala, the time will come when thou wilt weep. _k._ well then? and if i weep i shall shed tears. tears are a sweet relief in anguish pain and grief. i'll make the best of all, whatever may befall. _b._ thy prattle seemeth foolish, but it hideth a deep philosophy. _k._ why then, good lord, why wilt thou not its merry lesson learn? _b._ good kala listen, and thou'lt understand: there is a difference between our aims: thou clingest to this world of transiency, but i seek the etern. thou seest not the misery of life, for thou art happy-- happy at least at present, though the next moment may find thee writhing in lament. i seek a place of refuge whence i can extend my hand to help those in distress. i will attain the state of buddhahood to bring deliverance to all mankind. _dd._ why do you waste your time, siddhattha, with this frivolous lad? what profit can there be in gossip such as you two carry on? _k._ you always scold, you hollow-eyed sour face! you always moralize. even your good brother-in-law is too worldly for you. _dd._ i did not speak to you, i addressed myself to siddhattha. _b._ udayin has a heart, a human heart, and all my sympathy goes out to him. _dd._ if you intend to lead a religious life and go into homelessness, you had better devote yourself to fasts and contemplations. _k._ you do not talk to me, but i will talk to you, and i will tell you that in all your religious exercises you think of yourself, while siddhattha thinks of others. i wish you would go into homelessness. nobody would miss you here. _addressing himself to_ siddhattha. but, good my lord, you must not go into homelessness, because you will do more harm than good. _b._ how can that be, my good kala udayin? _k._ there comes your noble wife, yasodhara. yasodhara _comes, her maids with umbrellas keep at a respectful distance_. _y._ come see our boy, he is a lovely child; he just woke up. he maketh you forget, the sad thoughts of your heart on world and life, for he, the darling babe, is life himself. kala _flirts with_ gopa, _one of_ yasodhara's _maids_. _b._ i'll follow thee at once. _y._ [_addressing devadatta_] and brother, will you come along? _dd._ not i. this child is but the beginning of new misery. it continues the old error in the eternal round on the wheel of life. _she goes into the house._ devadatta _withdraws into the garden_. _b._ now kala speak. _k._ o prince siddhattha, do not go into homelessness, do not leave us. i cannot live without you. you are my comfort, my teacher, my guide. i do not follow your instructions, but i love to hear them. oh i could not live without you. do not go, sweet prince. think of your wife, your dear good lovely wife, it will break her heart. think of your child. do not go, noble prince. let somebody else become the saviour of the world. somebody else can just as well become the deliverer and the buddha. i am sure there are many who would like to fill that place, and somebody can do it who has a less comfortable home to leave, who has a less lovely wife, who is not heir to a kingdom, and who has not such a sweet promising little boy as you have. i cannot live without you. _b._ wouldst thou go with me? _k._ [_kneels_] yes my lord, i would. take me along and i will cheer you up. _b._ wouldst thou go begging food from house to house? with bowl in hand, a homeless mendicant? _k._ no sir, that would not suit me. _b._ wouldst thou by night sleep under forest trees? _k._ no sir, i would catch cold. that's not for me. [_rises_] if you needs must go, sir, you had better go alone. that life is not for me. i will go and hear the nightingale. siddhattha _follows the princess into the palace_. _k._ a buddha's life is not for every one. he has no wife no pleasure and no fun. he cannot laugh, he cannot cry; he cannot love he cannot sigh. he's always preaching, preaching. he's always teaching, teaching. he wonders at time's transiency and ponders on man's misery, and findeth his salvation in dreary resignation. that life i see is not for me: 'twould be ill spent; i would not find enlightenment. i lift not the world's woe and in my quest for truth would fail [_muses a moment._] so i had better go and listen to the nightingale. _kala udayin exit._ [during the last scene twilight has gradually set in.] third scene. [the scene changes by open curtain. a veil comes down, and when its goes up again we see the bed chamber of siddhattha and yasodhara dimly lit by tapers.] _yasodhara (y) on the bed with babe in arms, two maids in waiting. siddhattha (b) comes in. a halo of light (not too strong) surrounds his head. the princess rises, lays the babe down and advances toward her husband._ _y._ o good my lord, my prince, my husband! _a pause. she changes her voice as if ashamed of her show of feeling. with a matter-of-fact intonation._ rahula fell asleep again. _b._ why art thou sad, my good yasodhara? i see a tear that glitters in thine eye. _y._ an unspeakable melancholy steals over my soul when i hear you speak of your religious longings. _b._ wouldest thou not rejoice if i fulfilled my mission; if i reached the highest goal? _y._ oh! siddhattha! you do not love me. _b._ my heart embraces all the world--and thee. _y._ if you loved me truly, there would not be much room for all the world. you think of the world all day long, and have not a minute's time for your wife. _b._ i have, my dear! _y._ my noble husband! _b._ speak! _y._ scarcely do i dare to call you by that name. you are kind and gentle, but for a husband you are too lofty, too distant in your dignity. it may be wrong in me, it may be sinful, but i wish you were less lofty and more loving. _b._ my dearest "wife," i call thee so on purpose-- my dearest "wife," thou dost not understand: the misery and ills of all the world weigh heavy on my heart. i'll find no peace until at last a remedy be found. _y._ why dost thou trouble about others? think of thy son, thy sweetest rahula, and if thou lovest me a little only, think of me. _b._ i think of thee, my loving wife, but when i think of thee i think of all--of all the loving wives, the happy trembling mothers all over in the world. happy they are, but trembling for their babes. oh! bear in mind, we all are in the net of sorrow caught. this world is full of pain, disease and death; and even death brings no relief. because the wheel of life rolls on. the ills continue in births that constantly repeat themselves. _y._ oh! do not speak of it my lord, it makes me sad. why do you think of misery, while here we are surrounded by wealth and comfort, and even the prospects of our future are most auspicious. why borrow trouble before it comes? _b._ my dear yasodhara, change is the law of being. now we prosper, but the wheel goes round and brings the high into the dust. _y._ you suffer from bad dreams; _b._ listen to me. _they sit down._ in this luxurious palace and these gardens, surrounding it, was i brought up with care. i saw naught but the fair, the beautiful, the pleasant side of life. _y._ i know, siddhattha-- i know it very well. _b._ you know, my father has kept me ignorant of evil things. i might have thought that such is life throughout, but i began to doubt and asked for leave to see the world outside these palace walls. not without difficulty did i gain permission, and with channa in a chariot i drove away--when suddenly before me i saw a sight i'd never seen before. there was a man with wrinkled face, bleared eyes, and stooping gait, a sight most pitiable. _yasodhara is much moved._ while i was horror-struck, channa passed by indifferent, for _he_ had seen such men. too well he knew the common fate of all; but i, the first time in my life, did learn that, _if_ we but live long enough, we all shall be such miserable wretched dotards. _y._ too sudden came this saddening truth to you. _b._ channa sped on his horses out of town, but there again! what an ungainly sight! a man lay on the road-side, weak and helpless, with trembling frame and feverish cramps. i shut mine eyes to so much racking pain, still i could hear his groaning and his moaning. "oh, channa," said i to the charioteer: "why does this happen? how deserves this man the wretchedness of his great agonies?" "how do i know?" said channa, "for we all are subject to distemper and disease. sometimes the best are stricken--and must die!" "must die?" cried i, "what does that word portend?" for, you must know, i never heard of death. my father had forbidden, at his court to speak to me of anything unpleasant. "yea, die!" said channa, "look around and see!" along the road a funeral procession moved slowly, solemnly and mournfully and on the bier a corpse, stark, stiff and cold. _y._ do not be troubled, death is still far off. _b._ oh do not feel secure, for the three evils surround us constantly and everywhere, and even now death hovers o'er our house. when i was born my mother went to heaven, which means, she died when she gave life to me. _y._ my lord don't think of evils that are past. _b._ the world's impermanence is still the same, and all material things are conformations subject to pain, decay and dissolution. yet unconcerned in blessed carelessness man hunteth after pleasure. transiency has set its mark on life, and there is none who can escape its curse. there is no mortal who's always happy. misery surprises the luckiest with unexpected terror. then, in addition, unseen powers breed most heinous maladies and fever heat. e'en if we were exceptions, thou must grant that finally we too will meet our doom. the ghastly specter death, the stern king yama, awaiteth all of us. such is our fate! _y._ o put away these gloomy thoughts, and think of life and love, and of thy lovely child. _b._ could we be truly happy while the world is filled with misery? mine eyes are opened; i see how death his gruesome revel holds. he owns the world and sways its destinies. one creature ruthlessly preys on the other, and man, the cleverest, preys on them all. nor is he free, for man preys upon man! nowhere is peace, and everywhere is war; life's mighty problem must be solved at last.-- i have a mission to fulfil. _y._ and me wouldst sacrifice for a philosophy, for the idea of an idle quest! _b._ 'tis not for me to ask whether my quest be vain: for me 'tis to obey the call. _y._ [_with passionate outburst_] siddhattha, o my lord, my husband, what wilt thou do? dost thou forget the promise made me on our wedding day? _b_. yasodhara, a higher duty calls. the time will come, and it is close at hand, when i shall wander into homelessness. i'll leave this palace and its splendid gardens i'll leave the pleasures of this world behind to go in quest of truth, of saving truth. _yasodhara sinks on her knees before him and clasps his knees._ _y._ and me, my lord, thy quest will make a widow! oh, stay, and build thee here a happy home. _b._ my dear yasodhara, it cannot be. _the prince stands lost in thought. rahula is restless. yasodhara rises and turns toward the child._ _y_. he wakes again. i come, my babe, i come. [the veil comes down again, and when it rises it shows the garden before the palace as in the first scene, but it is night and all is wrapped in darkness.] fourth scene. _king suddhodana (s) and his minister visakha (v) come out of the entrance._ _later on captain devala (d) and soldiers._ _s._ unfortunate, most unfortunate, that udayin died. siddhattha will miss the gardener and will ask for him. _v._ the prince loves flowers, and he knows them all by name; he loves trees and shrubs, and praises them for yielding fruit and grain for feeding us without the need of shedding blood. _s._ have the body removed so long as it is dark. _v_. the moon is full to-day and must rise in a little while. _s._ double the guards at the gate. i am afraid my son will flee. it would be a disgrace on my house to have him become a mendicant. the kings of kosala, of magadha, and all the others look with envy on our sturdy people; they dislike our free institutions and our warlike spirit. they would scoff at us if a sakya prince had become a monk. but if siddhattha does flee, i swear by lord indra that i shall disown him; i will no longer recognize him as my son. i will disinherit him and make rahula my heir apparent. _visakha looks at suddhodana in amazement._ _s_. i am serious and i will do it. i swore an oath, and issara will help me to keep it. now go to the captain of the guards and do as i bid you. _exit. the minister alone._ _v._ oh! what a chance for me! siddhattha will flee, if he be not prevented; he will be disinherited. rahula is a babe, and it will take twenty years before he grows up to manhood.--[_he muses._] i may proceed on different lines, and one of them must certainly lead to success. i may marry the princess and become the stepfather of the heir apparent, his guardian, the man who has him in his power--hm! hm! i need not plan too far ahead. and if that plan did not work, the king of magadha would make me raja of the sakyas, if i would recognize him as my liege. _the full moon rises and the scene becomes gradually brighter. visakha knocks at the gate._ who is on guard? _officer comes out._ _d._ i am, my lord, 'tis captain devala. _v._ 'tis well. king suddhodana requests you to double your guard to-night, for he has reasons. further he wants you to remove the corpse of udayin, the gardener who died to-day of an infectious disease. be on your guard, for where a dead body lies there are ghosts--and [_in a half whisper_] when you see demons or gods, keep yourselves, you and your men, locked up in the guard house, and the spook will pass without harm. _d._ your order shall be punctiliously obeyed. _pays his military salute and returns to the guard house._ _v._ that settles the guard, and should siddhattha flee he will find no obstacle. _two men come out of the guard house and enter the palace with a bier. kala udayin comes back from the garden. visakha retires into the background._ _k._ the nightingale is a sweet bird, but i like the lark better. the nightingale is more artistic, but his song is melancholy, he is so sentimental! the lark has a mere twitter like my own song, i like the lark better. how beautiful is this summer night; how glorious is the moon; how fragrant are the roses in the garden! it is a most auspicious night, and all breathes happiness. _visakha from his hiding place watches kala._ _v._ he comes in time, his presence will prosper my plans. [kala is lost in thought. music, from beethoven's seventh symphony, somber and as if coming from a distance, is heard.] _k._ [_while the music plays_] what a strange presentiment is stealing over my soul. perhaps i was too happy! what does siddhattha say? "all conformations always are transient,[a] harrassed by sorrow, lacking a self." [footnote a: the quoted lines run in the same rhythm as the melody and should be pronounced accordingly. see _buddhist hymns_, p. .] _the men come with the corpse on the bier. kala stops them._ _k._ what do you carry? who is this? [_he shrieks_] my father! [_the carriers set the corpse down and kala sinks down by the bier._] oh, my father! my dearest father! how did you die? why did you leave me? oh, my father! [_he sobs_]. _the moon sinks behind a cloud._ _siddhattha comes._ _b._ what may the trouble be? i heard a shriek. _kala raises himself half way up. the scene is bright again._ _k._ oh, my prince! see here! my father is dead! now i know the truth as well as you. now i feel the pain. the time has come for me to lament. i was so happy and i would not believe you.--oh ye who are happy, think in the hour of happiness that all is subject to suffering, and the hour of suffering will come to you too. nay more than that, the hour of death will come; it has come to my father, it will come to you and to me, and then my caroling will stop forever. oh, my poor father! _b._ how rarely is thy advent welcome, death, e'en this poor gardener who a servant was his livelong days, leaves in our hearts a gap. his son lamenteth him, and i not less; he was my loving friend; my educator, he had me on his knees so many a time, to tell me how the flowers will grow and blow, and how they prosper after rainy days. may gentle lilies from thy ashes spring, decked with the purity of thine own heart, and with their fragrance give the same delight that in thy present life thou gavest us. _the carriers lift up the body and carry it out._ oh, fare thee well, thou good and worthy friend, oh, fare thee well, but thy departure is to me a token that my time has come. _turning to kala who all the while was lying prostrate weeping._ weep not, companion of my childhood days, but bear in mind the courage of thy mirth. remember all the virtues of thy father and let them live again in thine own heart. thou must not yield to weakness and lamenting, tend to life's duties: go and call me channa, bid him to saddle kanthaka, my steed, and let him ready be for a night's ride. _kala exit. siddhattha alone._ the hour has come! and now my last farewell to thee my wife and rahula my son. _siddhattha makes a few steps and halts._ this is the greatest sacrifice i bring: i leave behind a crown without regret; i leave the luxury of wealth and power; i care for them as though they were but ashes but i must also leave my wife and child: here i must prove the courage of my heart. _enters the house._ fifth scene. [the veil of clouds comes down, and when it rises we see yasodhara's bedroom again.] _siddhattha (b) enters. yasodhara (y) sleeps with the babe in her arms._ _b._ here lie the rarest treasures of this life, my noble wife, my dear boy rahula. _siddhattha approaches the bed._ your sleep is sweet in your sweet innocence, and i will not disturb your blissful rest. i will go out in search for saving truth and shall not come again unless 't be found farewell my wife and rahula my son. must i be gone? is this, in sooth, my duty? _he goes toward the door. there he stops._ perchance on their account i ought to stay. but no! my father can take care of them. it is my tender heart that makes me weak. this is the greatest sacrifice i bring. sixth scene [change of scene, as rapid as before. the garden before the palace] _channa (ch.) enters with a horse._ _channa._ my prince, here is your steed! _mara (m), a superhuman figure, gaudily dressed, hovering in the air, suddenly appears and addresses siddhattha (b)._ _m._ it is a shame to leave your wife and child. _b._ [_addressing the vision in the air._] mara, thou here? thou wicked one, thou tempter! _k._ oh do not leave us prince. think of the wrong you do. you wrong your royal father, you wrong your wife, you wrong your child. _b._ what sayest thou? thou sayest i do wrong? the same rebuke is echoed in my heart; it is so sweet, so loving, so alluring! and shall i listen to its tender voice? how pleasant would it be to stay at home, and to enjoy my wife's love and my child's! is that my duty? say, is that my duty? _k._ surely my lord, your duties lie at home. _siddhattha wavers as if in doubt. he stands pondering for a moment._ _b._ who will instruct me where my duty lies? _m._ i will instruct thee, i will guide thee right. _k._ how can you doubt, my prince? and can you not search for the truth here in this pleasant garden? there're spots enough where you can think and ponder, and meditate among the fragrant flowers. _b._ here i shall never reach my goal. _k._ stay here. a kingdom is your sure inheritance, while buddahood is but a doubtful prize. _b._ and shall the world wait for another buddha? so many millions clamor for the truth! _with determination._ i hear the call and naught shall hold me back. i see my duty and i will obey. _m._ wilt thou not stay, my noble prince siddhattha? the wheel of empire turns, and thee i shall make king of kings to rule the whole broad earth. think of the good which thou wilt do as king! and then as king of kings thy mighty power will spread the good religion o'er the world. _b._ i know thee mara, tempter, evil one, prince of this world, i know thy voice, thy meaning. the gifts thou offerest are transient treasures, and thy dominion is mere vanity. i go to found a kingdom in the realm of the immortal state which lasts for aye. thou hinderest and dost not help the truth. _k._ thou speakest to the empty air, my prince, for i see no one whom thou thus addressest. _channa helps siddhattha to mount, and while the gate opens leads the horse out of the gate, and kala enters into the palace. visakha is coming to the front._ _v._ he is gone. he has made room for me. the time will come when this kingdom will be mine. _y._ [_from the balcony_] siddhattha! siddhattha! where are you? he is gone! he has departed into homelessness! [_she faints._] [curtain] _first interlude._ _living pictures accompanied by appropriate music, as an introduction to act ii._ . begging food. a scene of the prince's life as a mendicant friar. a hindu village, siddhattha stands bowl in hand before a hut; a woman dishes some rice from a kettle into his bowl; villagers, including children, stand around gazing at him,--a few with clasped hands. . the king greets the mendicant. tradition tells that king bimbisara, hearing of the noble monk, went out to see him and offered him to take part in the government. this being refused, the king requested him to visit rajagaha, the royal residence, as soon as siddhattha had become a buddha. siddhattha is seated under a tree near a brook; the king stands before him, surrounded by his retinue. preaching to the villagers. under the tree in the market place of a hindu village the buddha is seated in the attitude of a preacher. the villagers stand or squat around intently listening. . saved from starvation in company with other monks, siddhattha sought for a while enlightenment by self-mortification. being exhausted by severe fasts, the mendicant faints, and nanda, the shepherd's daughter, passing by, refreshes him with rice milk. his five disciples at a distance fear that he has given up his quest for truth. act ii. first scene [seven years have elapsed since the first act. a room in the royal palace at magadha] _present: nagadeva (n), the prime minister, general siha (gs), commander-in-chief of the magadha forces. later on the master of ceremonies (mc), king bimbisara (bb.), a trumpeter and a small body guard._ _n._ it is a joy to serve this mighty king whose power extendeth over many lands. in peace he ruleth wisely, and his subjects obey him willingly for he is just. in war he swoops upon his enemies as doth a hawk upon a helpless chicken, quick in attack, lucky in every fight. indeed he earned his name deservedly, the warlike bimbisara. _gs._ at his side i fought with him in many a doubtful battle with all the odds against us, but his daring, joined to a rare instinctive foresight by which he could anticipate all dangers, would win the day and ne'er was he defeated! in this our latest war he took great risks, might have been taken by his foes, and would have lost his liberty, his throne, his life; but venturing much he won, and by exposing his own high person in the brunt of battle he stirred the courage of his followers to do great deeds of valor. _master of ceremonies enters with a trumpeter._ _mc._ noble lords, mis majesty, our royal lord, is coming to meet you here in private council. _trumpeter blows a signal._ _gs._ hail the victorious, warlike bimbisara! _both kneel as the king enters preceded and followed by a small body guard._ _bb._ be greeted noble lords. _n._ we wish you joy and the continuance of your good fortune. _bb._ i have a matter to bespeak with you, far-reaching weighty plans of great importance. i wish to be alone with you. _turning to the captain of his body guards._ captain, have this room guarded by your soldiers. the gong shall call you when i need your service. _the soldiers march out of the room._ be seated, my good lords. you helped me gain a wondrous victory which proves i have the favor of the gods. i probed your skill, your courage and your faith and found you both most able and most trusty. therefore you are to me much more than vassals and servants of the state; you are my helpers, indeed my friends and nearest to my heart. a king needs friends who share his secret thoughts, who stand by him in all vicissitudes, who bear with him responsibilities, and above all, who frankly speak the truth. i ask you, will you be such friends to me? _gs._ i will with all my heart. _n._ and i not less. _bb._ i, my dear friends, i promise you in turn that i shall not resent your words of truth if spoken in good faith with best intentions. i may not always follow your advice, but you are free to say whate'er you please, whate'er you may deem best for me to know, whate'er will benefit the empire and my people. now listen what i have to say to you. i will reveal to you my inmost heart: this is an age of greatest expectations; riches accumulate in our cities, commerce and trade are flourishing, and our caravans exchange our native goods for gold and precious produce from abroad. what india needs is unity of rule. the valley of the holy ganges should be governed by one king, a king of kings. there should no longer be a rivalry, a clash of interests between the states, and all the princes should obey the rule of the one man who guides and guards the whole. this therefore is my plan: you nagadeva must gain the favor of our neighbor kings, so as to make them recognize our sway. if voluntarily they will submit, they shall be welcome as our worthy vassals. if they resist (_turning to siha_) my gallant general you must reduce them to subjection. a treaty with the rajas in the east, in southern and in northern kosala, speedeth my plans, the sakyas only defy our sovereign will, and keep aloof. if they yield not, their power must be broken! there is a task for you and for my army. _n._ permit, my noble king, that i advise you. i know the sakya minister of state, and he is willing to betray his master. the sakya prince, the only son and heir, siddhattha gotama he's called by name, went into homelessness and has turned monk, leaving behind his wife and a small son. the minister aspireth to the throne, and if we help him in his plans, he will acknowledge you as sovereign over him. and that will save your army blood and trouble. _bb._ what is his name. _n._ visakha, noble king. _bb._ i wish to see him. let him visit you and as by accident i want to meet him. _gs._ allow me, mighty king, a word of warning. _bb._ speak freely. _gs._ _with unconcealed indignation, almost entreatingly._ do not listen to a traitor. send me with all the army of the kingdom, bid me lead captive all the sakyas; do it in open fight but not by treachery. my king, avoid alliance with visakha, his very breath contaminates. he lowers ourselves to his low level. _bb._ thank you siha. i will be slow. [_pondering_] but it is too important! _argues with himself._ may i not listen to a traitor's words, nor hear him,--profit by his information? _gs._ oh do it not! _bb._ siha, thou art a soldier. i honor thee, thou speakest like a soldier, but think how much diplomacy will help, how many lives and property it saves. without the brutal means of war it will better accomplish all our ends; it spares the enemy as well. a prosperous country will serve me better than a city sacked and villages destroyed by fire. _gs._ pardon, my liege, i do not trust a traitor. _bb._ i will be on my guard, but i shall see him, 't shall be by way of reconnoitering. you in the meantime keep the army ready, for one way or another i must conquer the sakya king and make him do my bidding. _the king rises indicating that his two counselors are dismissed. they rise also._ the world is growing wider every day and our souls broaden with the general progress. a new era dawns upon us. let us all help to mature the fruitage of the times. second scene [the garden before the palace of king suddhodana as in act i] _presents yasodhara (y) with her maid gopa (g) and rahula (r)._ _y._ repeat that verse once more and then we will stop our lesson. _r._ with goodness meet an evil deed, with loving kindness conquer wrath, with generosity quench greed, and lies by walking on truth's path. _y._ now you can run about in the garden or play with the captain's son. _r._ mother, i do not believe that goodness always works in this life. _y._ why do you think so? _r._ because there are very bad boys, so bad that only a whipping will cure them. _y._ rahula! _r._ truly, mother, truly. even the gardener says so. _y._ you must set the bad boys a good example. _r._ no use, mother; they remain bad. i have tried it. _y._ you must have patience. _r._ no use, mother; and the gardener says, a viper remains a viper. _y._ even poisonous reptiles can be tamed. _r._ yes, but the gardener first pulls their fangs. would you like me to play with a viper? _y._ no, my boy. _excitement at the gate. kala enters and soldiers of the guard surround him._ _r._ what is going on?--o mother! kala udayin is back! _kala udayin (k) appears among the guards. rahula runs to the gate._ _r._ kala! welcome home! shake hands! _k._ be heartily greeted, my boy. _r._ did you see father? _k._ i did, rahula. _r._ tell me all. _k._ i will tell mother. _r._ come to mother. she has been expecting you for many days. _kala kneels to the princess._ _y._ gopa, take his bundle. [_the maid takes his bundle and carries it into the house._] what news do you bring of prince siddhattha? _k._ i followed the prince from place to place and saw him last near benares in the forest of uruvela. _y._ how is his health, and will he come back? _k._ his health is probably good, but he does not think of coming back--not yet. o my dear lady! if you could see him! he is as thin as a skeleton. i could count all his ribs. _r._ what is the trouble with father. _k._ he is fasting. he lives on a hempcorn a day; think of it, one little hempcorn a day! _y._ oh, he will die! my poor husband. i must follow him and attend to his wants. he needs his wife's loving care. i will leave my home and follow him. _k._ could you help him, princess? he might not like it, and the monks abhor women. moreover, i was told that he takes food again, every morning a cup of rice milk. the day i left he looked better. still, he was pretty pale. _y._ tell me all you know of him. _k._ i went first to rajagaha, and there i heard wondrous tales about the noble monk gotama. all the people knew about him, they called him a "sage" or "muni" and the "bodhisatta." _r._ what does that mean, kala? _k._ bodhisatta is the man who seeks the bodhi--and the bodhi is enlightenment or buddhahood. _y._ what did the people of rajagaha say? _k._ when prince siddhattha came to rajagaha, he created a great excitement in the city. never had been seen a mendicant of such noble appearance, and crowds flocked to him. they thought he was a buddha and greeted him as a buddha; but he said to them "i am not a buddha; i am a bodhisatta, i seek buddhahood, and i am determined to find it." _y._ did you meet people who saw him? _k._ indeed, i did. they say he looked like a god. the news spread all over the capital, and king bimbisara himself went out with his ministers to see the bodhisatta. king bimbisara came to the place where the stranger stayed--under a forest tree near a brook--and greeted him most respectfully saying, "great monk, remain here with me in rajagaha; i see that you are wise and worthy. live with me at the royal palace. be my adviser and counselor. you are not made for a mendicant. your hands are fit to hold the reins of empire. stay here, i beg you, and you shall not lack honor and rank." "nay," replied siddhattha, "let me go my way in quest of enlightenment. i am bent on solving the problem of existence, and i will become a buddha." said the king, "hear then, great monk. go in quest of enlightenment, and when you have found it come back to rajagaha." _y._ is king bimbisara so religious? _k._ king bimbisara is ambitious. as is well known, he is a warrior and a conqueror; but that is not all. he wants to be the greatest monarch of all ages and he would have all the great events happen under his rule. this is what he said to the bodhisatta: "when i was a youth i uttered five wishes, and they were these: i prayed, may i be crowned king. this wish has been fulfilled. then i wished, may the holy buddha, the blessed one, appear on earth while i am king, and may he come to my kingdom. this was my second wish, and while i gaze upon you i know that it will be fulfilled. further i wished, may i see the blessed buddha and pay my respects to him. this was my third wish. my fourth wish was, may the blessed one preach the doctrine to me, and my fifth and greatest wish was this, may i understand the doctrine. i beg you, therefore, great monk, when you have become a buddha come back and preach the doctrine to me and accept me as your disciple." _y._ and whither did siddhattha go from rajagaha? _k._ he visited the great philosophers arada and udraka, but he found no satisfaction in their theories. so he went on to uruvela where the ascetics live. i followed the bodhisatta and learned that he stayed with five disciples in the forest. i found shelter near by in the cottage of the chief shepherd, a good old man with a pretty daughter, nanda. there i watched siddhattha and his disciples from a distance. he was the youngest but the wisest of them, and they reverenced him as master. he outdid them all in fasting. one day nanda, the shepherd's daughter, saw him faint, and he might have died from exhaustion right on the spot if nanda had not given him rice milk to drink. _y._ o good kala, what shall i do? what shall i do? here i sit at home, a poor, helpless woman, unable to assist him or to take care of him! o kala, advise me, what can i do? _king suddhodana (s) and visakha (v) come out of the palace. the princess retires into the palace. gopa hides behind the bushes._ _s._ i am glad to see you back. have you seen my son? _k._ i have sire. _s._ where did you find him? _k._ at uruvela, the place of mortification where saints try to see visions and reach a state of bliss. _v._ and has siddhattha succeeded? _k._ it does not seem so; he is starving himself to death. _v._ is he dying? _k._ not exactly, but i do not see how he can live--on that diet. _s._ oh, visakha, how have i been deprived of my son through a whim! _both return into the palace. visakha comes back._ _v._ it seems that siddhattha is ruining himself. _k._ at the rate he is going now, he won't stand it long. he may not live another month. it is pitiable. you should have seen him. that beautiful young man looks like a consumptive in his last stage. i did not dare to tell what i thought. the princess would not have borne the sad news. _v._ too bad. it looks pretty hopeless. _k._ i do not see how the prince can survive. _v._ what is the idea of these fasts? _k._ these pious recluses believe that the self is imprisoned in the body and that the senses are the prison gates. they want to liberate the soul, and many of them behold visions, but siddhattha seems to doubt whether the saints of uruvela proceed on the right track. indeed he denies the very existence of the self. _v._ i know he does. his views should be branded as purely human wisdom. as the senses are finger touch, eye touch, ear touch, nose and tongue touch, so the mind is to him mere thought touch. he claimed that the mind originates through a co-operation of the senses. _k._ his disciples begin to break away from him. _v._ that is right. they ought to have done so long ago. i always said that siddhattha is an unbeliever. he spurns faith and relies too much on his own observation and reasoning. he will never find enlightenment. he is too negative, too nihilistic, and his quest of buddhahood will end in a lamentable failure. _k._ it would be a pity, sir. he is certainly in earnest to find the truth--the real truth, not what the priests say nor the vedas declare, but the truth, provable truth. _v._ yes that is his fault. when the king speaks with you tell him all, explain the hopelessness of his situation. the king ought to know the facts. _visakha retires into the palace._ _k._ [_calls in a low voice_] gopa, gopa! [_gopa appears from behind the bush._] _k._ [_aside_] i knew she would not be far. _g._ what do you want? _k._ i want to have a talk with you. _g._ well? _k._ let us set our marriage day. _g._ i do not care to marry you--just yet. _k._ i want a kiss, gopa. _g._ you shan't have it! _k._ i will leave kapilavatthu and go back to the bodhisatta. _g._ he will tell you that a youth must not kiss a girl. _k._ that rule holds only for monks. _g._ go and turn monk. then it applies to you. _k._ the world would die out if everybody turned monk. _g._ first, you are not everybody, and secondly, would it not be a blessing if the whole world would try to be sanctified? _k._ pshaw! mankind consists of different castes and professions, of soldiers and merchants, of peasants and artisans and teachers. mankind is like a body with various limbs, a head and hands, feet and chest and neck. a man who were head only could not live, and if mankind consisted of buddhas only we would starve. we need a buddha, but there must also be householders. now quick give me a kiss. _she pouts._ _k._ if you do not kiss me i shall go back to the forest of uruvela. nanda, the shepherd's daughter, is a very pretty girl. she is as pretty as you are. she is,--well, her cheeks are rosier than yours. she is a little taller, and she is so graceful when she milks the kine. the shepherd needs a helper. i am sure he would like to have a son-in-law. _rahula enters._ _r._ gopa! mother wants you. _g._ [_kisses k. quickly_] here is a kiss, but you must forget nanda. [_runs away._] _k._ stay a moment longer! _g._ i have no time. [_exit._] _k._ i knew she would come around,--and she is much prettier than nanda. nanda is a buxom country lass, a pleasant girl, but gopa is as proper as a princess. [_he continues with unction._] bodhisatta longs for the blessed state of nirvana, and when he has found it, he will be calm and without passion. he will walk on earth as a god among men. no emotion will disturb the peace of his mind, and the happiness of the great brahma will be as nothing in comparison to the infinite bliss of his buddhahood. [_with a lighter tone_]: i adore him, but i do not envy him. i do not long for the happiness of a god. i am a man with human faults and human yearnings. i am satisfied with the happiness and the sufferings of a man. since i am assured of gopa's love, i care not for nirvana. i think that this world is good enough for me. _v._ [_looks around like a spy._] how peaceful lies this palace, yet i see the war clouds lour upon its roofs. the storm will break with sudden vehemence upon these harmless unsuspecting people. woe to them, their doom is certain. desperate resistance succumbs before the overwhelming forces of bimbisara.--and what will become of poor yasodhara?--i like her well. i might still save her from her people's ruin. a princess, sweet and noble, and herself descended from an ancient royal house. but i hate that little youngster rahula. whate'er betide, my deep-laid schemes will speed and i shall profit by my master's doom. [music: chopin's nocturno. opus , no. .] [curtain] third scene. [darkness covers the scene. distant thunder and lightning. gradually it grows light again and the scene of yasodhara's bedroom becomes visible. all luxury has been removed; she sleeps on a mat on the floor, rahula in bed.] _r._ mother! mother! _y._ sleep my boy, it is almost midnight. _r._ take me up, mother. _yasodhara picks rahula up._ _r._ why do you sleep on the floor, mother? _y._ because father does so. let me lay you down on your couch, you must sleep. _r._ tell me more of father. _y._ i will to-morrow. _r._ tell me now. is father a king? _y._ no, my son. but he is going to found a kingdom. _r._ will he be king of it? _y._ i do not know, my boy, but his kingdom will not be like other kingdoms. it will be the kingdom of truth--a spiritual kingdom, a kingdom of righteousness. _r._ is father rich? _y._ he scorns riches. _r._ why does he? _y._ he seeks other riches, the riches of religion, of the mind, of spirit. _r._ did he find them? _y._ i believe he did. _r._ he sends you news through kala udayin. _y._ no, rahula, i send kala udayin out to watch him and when kala comes back he tells me what he saw and heard. kala does not speak to father. _r._ why does kala not speak to father? _y._ grandfather forbade him. when we sent out devadatta and ananda, they became attached to the life of a hermit. they joined father and did not come back; but kala will not turn monk. _r._ but this time he will speak to father. _y._ how do you know? _r._ i heard grandfather bid him to. _y._ what did he bid him? _r._ he bade kala that he should tell father to visit us. _she can scarcely conceal her joy._ _y._ you heard grandfather say so? _r._ i did, mother; grandfather said that he became old, and before he died he wanted to see his son again. _y._ why! did he really say so? _r._ he did. _y._ oh you darling son, then you will see him, too. _r._ people say that he will be a buddha. _y._ yes, my son, some say he will be a buddha and others doubt it. _r._ mother, what is a buddha? _y._ a buddha is a man who has found the truth. _r._ how does a man find the truth? _y._ by enlightenment. he must find out the cause of evil. _r._ why must he find out the cause of evil? _y._ he teaches the people how to avoid evil. _r._ has father found the cause of evil? _y._ kala udayin says he has. _r._ what is the cause of evil? _y._ father says that selfishness is the cause of evil and selfishness comes from the belief in self. _r._ self? _y._ yes, self! man, as a rule, believes that he is a self. _r._ what? a self? _y._ yes, a being by himself, who lives only for himself, and the thought of self makes him selfish; and selfishness begets all evils. _r._ [_with a childlike serious conviction_] i believe it, mother. _y_. father says there is no self, that self is an illusion. _r._ what does that mean? _y._ it means that we are not separate beings. i think a thought and speak it out and you hear it. i believe in that thought and so do you. whose is it then, yours or mine? _r._ it belongs to both. _y._ but where does the thought come from? if it is true it belongs to the truth, and it was true before i thought it. _r._ yes, mother. _y._ and if it was wrong, it is evil, and it was evil before we thought it. _r._ yes, mother. _y._ and so are all our thoughts, but almost everybody assumes that his self thinks these thoughts and invents them; and that is an illusion. _r._ i see. _y._ [_to herself_] his eyes close. he is tired. [to rahula] now go to sleep again, rahula, and dream of your father. i will sing you one of father's songs. _yasodhara lays rahula down in the high bed and sings:_ by ourselves is evil done, by ourselves we pain endure. by ourselves we cease from wrong, by ourselves become we pure. no one saves us but ourselves, no one can and no one may. we ourselves must walk the path, buddhas merely teach the way. _the boy sleeps. then yasodhara herself lies down on the mat on the floor. above her appears the vision of her dream. under the bodhi tree in a forest landscape siddhattha sits. he is surrounded by a halo of light. mara approaches to tempt him._ _m._ thou art ahungered, worthy sakyamuni, ahungered art thou from continued fasts, and thou wilt starve unless thou take and eat. i bring delicious food, take, eat and live. _b._ i shall not eat until my quest be done. much better 'tis to die in glorious battle than flee and lead a coward's life, defeated. i shall not eat, o mara, take thee hence. _m._ wilt thou not listen to my good advice? _b._ the tempter always calls his councils good, but pleasures which he promises are evil. _m._ i will not suffer thee to stay, siddhattha, and shall disturb thy daring quest of truth. i'll split the bodhi tree by lightning and frighten thee away with rumbling thunder. _all is wrapped in darkness, except siddhattha and the bohdi tree. thunder and lightning. after a while the noise abates. it grows light again. mara's daughters appear._ _m._ go forth my daughters, tempt the holy man, and lure him from the seat of buddahood. _three graceful women, mara's daughters, sing in a low enticing voice._ [melody: the mermaids' song from weber's oberon.] sweetest on earth 'tis in pleasure to live, love thou must ask for, and love thou must give. pain we can soothe and assuage every smart, yea, we will grant thee the wish of thy heart. power bestow we, enjoyment and mirth, health and wealth also, and all that has worth. lo, of life's happiness naught shalt thou miss, satisfied longings are greatest of bliss. _while they sing they circle around the bodhi tree and pose in graceful attitudes._ [siddhattha does not mind mara's daughters. they withdraw, and grotesque monsters appear in threatening attitudes, exhibiting a savage war dance, always approaching the tree and turning their weapons against the sakyamuni, but as soon as they approach the halo they droop, unable to hurt him. lotus flowers rain down. sakyamuni raises his right hand. a flash of lightning and a sudden clap of thunder. the spook vanishes in darkness while the buddha under the bodhi tree alone remains visible in a halo of light. the forest landscape reappears in full light as before.] _b._ the wheel of life turns round through birth and death, its twelve-linked chain of causes takes its start in ignorance and ends in suffering. the truth is found, the fourfold noble truth; all life is sorrow, sorrow's cause is lust, but from our sorrow we can escape if we abandon lust and thought of self. the eightfold noble path of righteousness delivers from all evil: it will bring sweet peace of mind and leadeth to nirvana. [with music accompaniment] through many births i sought in vain the builder of this house of pain. now, builder, thee i plainly see! this is the last abode for me. thy gable's yoke, thy rafters broke, my heart has peace; all lust will cease. [the following words fit exactly the music of haydn's chorus with soli no. [b] in the creation, and the spirit of the composition is very appropriate for this scene] [footnote b: peters' edition, pp - "die himmel erzahlen, etc." in a few places where the fugas set in, the words "the wicked mara's host" should read "the wicked one's,--the wicked mara's host," etc.] _chorus of angels._ behold the great muni, his heart unmoved by hatred, the wicked mara's host 'gainst him did not prevail. _trio of brahma vishnu shiva._ victorious buddha thou art wise and pure, the darkness is gone and enlightenment gained. _chorus of angels as above._ proclaim the truth to all the world. truth will bring salvation. glory to the truth! _chorus of angels as above._ [lotus flowers rain down thicker and thicker, clouds cover the scene, but the buddha under the bodhi tree remains still dimly but sufficiently visible.] _yasodhara wakes up. she rises and lights a candle from a rush lamp. she kneels with clasped hands before the vision of the buddha._ _y._ oh siddhattha, my lord and husband, no longer my husband, but the buddha. in thee i take my refuge. in thee and thy word, i believe. thy doctrine shall guide me. accept me as thy faithful disciple, a disciple of the buddha, my lord, the tathagata, the great thinker, the saviour of mankind. [curtain.] _second interlude_. _living pictures accompanied by appropriate music to introduce the third act._ . the foundation of the kingdom of righteousness. buddha preaches to his five disciples the way of salvation, which speech, preserved in a special book, is frequently compared to christ's sermon on the mount. buddha stands with raised hand, while five monks stand or sit or squat around him in devout attitude. . entering the capital. when buddha came to rajagaha, the people met him on the way and accompanied him into the city in triumphal procession which is analogous to christ's entry into jerusalem. the buddha with bowl in one hand and staff in the other is followed by yellow-robed monks. the people strew flowers, carry palm branches and wave kerchiefs. . the courtesan. ambapali, the buddhist mary magdalen, came to buddha, worshiping him and invited him to take his meal at her home. to the astonishment of several moralists, he accepted and honored the penitent sinner. a beautifully dressed woman with clasped hands kneels before buddha, a maid in attendance behind her. some well dressed people of high caste watch the scene with an expression of indignation. . the philanthropist. the wealthiest man of savatthi invites the buddha to his home and offers to build a resthouse for the buddha and his brotherhood. anatha pindika kneels before the buddha, holding in one hand the picture and plan of a building. buddha indicates by his lowered hand acceptance of the gift. buddha attended by two monks, anatha pindika accompanied by the architect. . prince jeta. it is told that the most beautiful spot in savatthi was the royal park of prince jeta, which anatha pindika wanted to buy for the brotherhood of buddha. the owner was unwilling to sell and made the exorbitant demand to have the whole ground covered with gold as its price. but anatha pindika had the gold carried to the garden and paid the price. the scene is laid in the garden. anatha pindika with bags of gold stands in commanding attitude. his servants spread the coins while prince jeta throws up his hands in astonishment. (anatha pindika is not the real name of the founder of the jetavana. the name means, "[he who gives to] the indigent, alms.") act iii. first scene [a brahman temple with a statue of durga; before the idol an altar. in the background a landscape with farms and a sheep-fold.] _enter from the right general siha (gs.) with a captain (c) and some soldiers._ _gs._ pitch the tents on the slope of yonder hill where that farmhouse stands. _c._ it shall be done, my general. _gs._ what crowd is gathered there with flags and flowers? _c._ it is the farmer's family led by the village priest, and neighbors flock around to swell their number. _gs._ the priest handles a big knife that flashes in the sun. i see his hands are stained with gore. they seem to celebrate a feast in honor of a god. _c._ the villagers inform me that the occasion of it is sad. one of the farmer's children died of late, and others being sick the father invokes the goddess kali to preserve the rest of his family. they are arrayed for a procession and having offered a young sheep at the altar of the homestead they have started out. see how the crowd are wending their way hither to the temple. _general siha looks around and contemplates the scenery, then turns to the captain._ _gs._ now pitch the tents before the sun goes down. _in the meantime, the buddha enters with two disciples. they sit down under a tree. the captain bows to them reverently and leaves the stage._ _gs._ greetings to you, holy monks. _b._ peace be with thee, and may thy sword ne'er reek with blood. _gs._ i draw the sword for my king, for my country and for the restoration of order where enemies or rebels have disturbed it. _b._ thou lookst courageous and thy very words possess a ring of simple honesty. _gs._ i serve a mighty king who means to do the right. he prefers to establish his rule by treaty and spares an enemy who sues for peace. _b._ thou speakst of bimbisara, king of magadha? _gs._ indeed i speak of the great bimbisara, and he is born to sway the world. my sympathy and my allegiance go with him. i am siha, his general. _b._ thy name is known throughout the indian lands. _gs._ when i chose my profession i prayed to the gods that they would never let it be my lot to fight for any unjust cause. _b._ let this thy prayer be a sacred vow which thou wilt keep inviolate. our fate, or say the gods, create conditions; but thou thyself must act. thou art responsible, thou shapest thine own life, and not the gods. _gs._ thy words please me! what is thy doctrine, venerable monk? _b._ i teach the middle way between extremes. neither mortifications of the body nor self-indulgence should be practised. we must make up our minds and walk on the eightfold noble path of righteousness. _gs._ who art thou, wondrous monk? thy doctrine is so plain, and so convincing that i grant thou speakest truth. the people ought to know thee and accept thy creed. who art thou? _b._ born of the sakya race, they call me sakyamuni. _gs._ blessed be this day on which i meet the greatest man of our age. i heard of thee from the nirgranthas, thine own enemies, the rival sect of thy new order, and they say that thou deniest the soul, thou teachest extinction, thou leadest man to non-existence, and that nirvana is with thee an empty naught--annihilation.--is that true? _b._ i teach extinction, noble general, of hatred, greed, and lust, but i insist on doing what is right and just and good; on doing resolutely what we do, on searching for the truth, on setting up its lamp and following its holy light. nirvana is attained when passions are extinct and when the heart is blessed with peace. _gs._ thou art more than a mortal, holy man. auspicious is this day on which i've met thee. the people call thee buddha, perhaps rightly so! a feeling of deep reverence comes over me and the truth dawns on me. truly thou art the teacher of the world. if thy doctrine impressed the people a new era would begin, an era in which mankind would be wiser and nobler, happier and better. [barbaric music is heard behind the stage, the drum being prominent.] _voices behind the stage:_ maha kali! kali ma! _gs._ behold how wretched are these people in their ignorance. _b._ they must be taught and they will learn the truth. [the procession enters. a small band of musicians comes with primitive instruments, among them drums. they are followed first by dancers, then by a priest (_pr._) flourishing in his bloody hand a large knife. by his side walks a shepherd carrying a lamb. behind them the farmer's (_f._) family and other people] _gs._ what horrible sounds! and the crowd behave like madmen. _pr._ maha kali! _crowd._ kali ma! _pr._ goddess of the black countenance! great black mother! _crowd._ maha kali! kali ma! maha kali! kali ma! maha kali! kali ma! [the priest steps to the altar; the crowd kneels in a large circle. at the priest's signal the farmer approaches the altar and kneels. his behavior betrays superstitious timidity and great awkwardness. the shepherd exhibits the lamb first to the priest and then to the dancers who in fantastic dancing step advance and retreat while the music plays. finally the lamb is placed on the altar.] _pr._ have mercy on us! slay the demon of disease. keep away yama the horrible one, the god of death. _crowd._ kali ma, have mercy on us! _pr._ thou art parvati, the wife of siva. thou hast conquered the giant durga, the evil one, and now thyself art called the goddess durga. thou art mahishamardini, the slayer of mahisha. thou art kalaratri, nightly darkness, abyss of all mysteries. thou art jagaddhatri, mother of the world. thou art jagadgauri, renowned throughout the world. thou art katyayina, refulgent with a thousand suns. thou art singhavahini, seated on a lion thou wonest victory over raktavija, leader of the giants' army. great mother of life, accept our offering, the blood of this lamb. _crowd._ maha kali, accept our offering! kali ma, accept our offering! kali durga, great goddess, accept our offering! _the priest turns toward the lamb and raises his knife. buddha steps to the altar and places his hand gently upon the priest's arm._ _b._ hold! _pr._ meddler! _b._ pause before thou sheddest blood. _pr._ how dar'st thou rudely interfere, strange monk, with our most sacred sacrifice? this lamb is offered to the goddess. thou disturbest our holy ritual. _he lifts his knife against buddha, but siha draws his sword and knocks the knife out of the priest's hand._ _gs._ keep peace, bold priest! _pr._ the vengeance of the gods will be upon you. _b._ if there be gods they must be potent, noble, and great and holy; and if the gods are holy, they do not need the offering of a victim, they do not want the life of this poor trembling lamb. _pr._ the gods are kind; they take the lamb in place of this poor stricken man. we must do penance for his sins, for the sins of his wife, for the sins of his children. _farmer._ i crave forgiveness for the sins for which my dear good child has had to die. _pr._ his sins are great and nothing can wash them away but blood. _b._ herein thou errest, priest. blood does not cleanse. it washes not away the stain of sin; the slaughter of a victim heaps but guilt on guilt, and does not right a wrong. rise, rise, my good friend. take comfort! _the farmer rises._ be a man. _the others rise gradually._ _f._ what shall i do, good master? _b._ right all the wrongs thou didst and sin no more. _pr._ this lamb was given to the goddess. it is mine. _gs._ are you the steward of the goddess' property? _siha steps close to the priest who retires step by step and finally hurries off the stage._ come, shepherd, take the frightened lambkin up and bear it to its mother in the fold. [the shepherd takes up the lamb and stands ready to carry it away. the musicians slink away. the lambbearers and the people walk off in procession, followed by the buddha with his disciples. general siha remains alone on the stage. a trumpet call at a short distance and another one close by.] _gs._ what does that signal mean? _an officer accompanied by a trumpeter enters. a third trumpet call on the stage. the officer delivers a letter._ _officer._ a dispatch from his majesty bimbisara to his faithful and most noble general, siha. _gs._ _breaks the seal and reads to himself._ "the sakyas are a stubborn little nation. their institutions are free; their laws differ from those of the other surrounding states. these people are a source of discontent and revolution, and are a sore in my eye. therefore, the sakyas must be crushed, even if they sue for peace. keep the army near the border and be ready for a sudden attack." _with an expression of grief._ war is unavoidable and i am to be the means by which the sakyas will be wiped off the earth. it is my duty, for the king commands it. a soldier should not argue, he obeys. _draws his sword and looks at it._ this sword is consecrated to the service of my king. never have i drawn it except in honest fight. _lost in contemplation._ is sakyamuni the buddha?--is he truly the buddha? buddhas are wise; buddhas are omniscient; buddhas foresee the future.-- is sakyamuni truly the buddha?--i believe he is. and if he is the buddha, is it right to wage a war against his people?--what shall i do? oh, ye gods, teach me my duty! oh, ye gods, may it not be my lot to fight for an unrighteous cause! cursed be the sword that sheds innocent blood. second scene. [bimbisara's court at rajagaha] _present: king bimbisara (bb.), visakha (v), and nagadeva (n)._ _v._ the sakyas will make a hard fight, great king, and the war will cost blood. these northern settlers are taller and stronger than other races and possess the courage of the inhabitants of their former frigid homes. it would be easier to take possession of their state if i married princess yasodhara and gradually assumed the government under your protection. your mighty friendship would support me on the throne and you could rule through me. _bb._ that sounds acceptable, but in the meantime, i prepare for war. _v._ even in war i shall be of service to you. i can lead your army where it will not meet with resistance, and i know the names of those who are dissatisfied. many could be induced to join your forces; and i can betray the very person of the raja into your hands. _bb._ _nodding kindly to visakha, then turning to nagadeva._ is our kingdom in readiness? _n._ great king, it is. general siha stands in the field with a strong force ready to strike. there are another fifty thousand within call to make a sudden dash upon any of our neighbors should they dare come to the aid of sakya. our treasury is well filled, and the people of magadha are prosperous. we could stand even a protracted war far better than any other state in india. _bb._ the time seems favorable; the risk is small, and the spoil will be great. convene my generals in the assembly hall. _they bow low and pass out. ambapali (ap.) enters._ _ap._ are they gone, my lord, and what did you decide? _bb._ i propose to go to war. _ap._ you are rightly called "the warlike." _bb._ i want to round off my kingdom and expand my power northward until it reaches the himalayas. _ap._ the gods will speed you and the blessings of the saints shall be upon your people. _servant enters._ _st._ there is a holy man who wants to see your highness. his name is devadatta. _bb._ show him in. _servant exit._ _ap._ is he not one of the disciples of the buddha? _bb._ i believe he is. _ambapali retires._ _devadatta enters._ _dd._ hail, great king! protector of religion and victor of many battles! _bb._ what brings you to my presence? i always rejoice to see holy men. their coming is auspicious, and i am happy to be of service to them. _dd._ great king, i implore your assistance for the brotherhood which i have founded. we need your royal support and the holiness of our lives will surround you as a halo with heavenly protection. _bb._ are you not a disciple of gotama, who is called the buddha? _dd._ no longer, mighty king, i was his disciple so long as i believed in him; but he is not holy. i have abandoned him. he is not austere; his disciples do not practise self-mortifications, and he speaks kindly and dines with sinners. my disciples do not dress in worldly garments; they would not accept the invitation of women; they would not touch animal food. he who calls himself the buddha is unworthy of that high title; he is a pretender who has not reached the highest goal. my rules are much more strict than his, and my brotherhood alone is holy. _bb._ holiness is a mighty thing. _dd._ yea, and our vows will shield your government, your throne, your army and your people against any misfortune. _bb._ i shall send my treasurer to investigate and will do what is right. _dd._ maharaja, be assured of my deepest gratitude. _bows low, exit._ _ap._ [_re-enters, excited_] my royal friend, do not trust that man [_pointing toward the door where devadatta went out_]. he is false. he may be holy, but he is treacherous. he may be virtuous; he may shun joy and the blessings of life, he may practise all penances, he may torture and mortify his body. but there is no true goodwill in him. his holiness is egotistic, and his religion is hypocrisy. support his brotherhood with money or gifts as you see fit, but do not believe what he says about the buddha. _bb._ [_with an inquiring look_] why? _ap._ i know what he meant when he scoffed at him. when the buddha stayed at vesali, i invited that noblest of all monks to take his meal with me. i am not holy; i am a worldly woman; i am not a saint; but i have a warm heart, i feel for others and i want to do what is right. when i heard that the buddha stayed in the mango grove, i thought to myself, i will go and see him. if he is truly all-wise, he will judge my heart and he will judge me in mercy. he will know my needs and will not refuse me. i went to the mango grove and he looked upon me with compassion; he accepted my invitation in the presence of witnesses, openly, fearlessly, and in kindness. there were the proud licchavi princes, and close to him stood the envious devadatta. how they scowled; how they condemned the great and kindly saint! how they whispered, "shame on him!" and i saw how they despised me--yet they did not dare to speak out or to censure him publicly. then, my gracious king, i knew that he was truly the lord buddha, the allwise. _bb._ my dear friend, i accept every word you say as true. i know the goodness of your heart, i know your worth, your loving kindness, and if you were of royal birth you would be worthy to wear a crown. the buddha did not demean himself when he honored you. _ap._ allow me one question. did the buddha ever beg you to support his brotherhood? _bb._ no, he did not; but i will give him all the assistance he may need. _ap._ did he ever offer you the support of his vows, or did he ever praise the efficacy of his holiness? _bb._ he never did. _ap._ neither does he stand in need of self-recommendation, for his very presence is a blessing, because he spreads goodwill and kindliness, and the people who hear him are ashamed of doing anything unrighteous. devadatta extends to you the promise, if you but support his disciples, of an unconditional protection through his holiness. the buddha's protection is not so cheaply earned. i heard him say that every one must protect himself by his own righteousness, and no prayer, no sacrifice, no religious devotion, nor even penance or fasts could protect a man from the wrongs which he does. _bb._ the buddha's presence would be more auspicious than ten devadattas. _ap._ oh, most assuredly! and what a contempt i have for the virtuous indignation of men who, overmoral themselves, judge haughtily of others; yet, if you look into their souls you discover that they are heartless and self-seeking villains. _bb._ your judgment is well grounded. _ap._ the buddha alone possesses greatness, and the buddha does not seek honor, but the people adore him. _bb._ rajagaha must become the center of india. i will send for the buddha and invite him to visit me. his sojourn here will make the kingdom of magadha more famous than conquests and victories. _the servant enters._ _st._ mighty king, the prime minister nagadeva. _bb._ he is welcome. fare thee well, sweet heart; affairs of state call me. _n._ mighty king, the generals are assembled. they hail thee as their war lord, and are anxious for laurels, for glory, for booty! [trumpets, curtain.] _third interlude._ _living pictures accompanied by appropriate music._ . sending out the disciples. the buddha called his disciples together, and having ordained them, bade them spread the gospel, with these words translated from the buddhist canon: "go ye now, o disciples, and wander forth for the benefit of the many, for the welfare of mankind, out of compassion for the world. preach the doctrine which is glorious in the beginning, glorious in the middle, and glorious in the end, in the spirit as well as in the letter. there are beings whose eyes are scarcely covered with dust, but if the doctrine is not preached to them they cannot attain salvation. proclaim to them a life of holiness. they will understand the doctrine and accept it." the pali expression _kalyamo dhamma_ is here translated "glorious doctrine." the dictionary defines the first word as "excellent, beautiful, glorious." this closely corresponds to the christian term, which, as derived from the greek, reads "evangel" and in its saxon equivalent "gospel" or "good tidings." . the rich youth. yasa, the son of a wealthy nobleman of benares, came by night to the blessed one and exclaimed: "what misery!" but the buddha answered, "there is no misery for him who has entered the path." yasa, richly dressed, with an expression of distress, before the buddha who comforts him. the scene is framed in darkness, the two figures being lit up by a torch. . a child's offering. old frescoes in the ajanta caves show a mother sending a gift through her child. it looks as if they were buddhist illustrations of christ's injunction, "suffer little children to come unto me." act iv. first scene [a room in the jetavana. the wheel of the law pictured on one side and the wheel of becoming on the other. otherwise swastikas and lotus flowers serve as ornaments. a large opening exhibits a view into a garden with running water. on the right side there is a platform with low seats, on the other there is a low table with a divan, on which anatha pindika is seated, looking over palmleaf manuscripts.] _present: anatha pindika (a); servant (st.); prince jeta (j); later on kala udayin (k) and the buddha (b)._ _a servant enters._ _st._ his highness the prince jeta. _a._ show him in. _jeta enters. a. rises to meet him with bows._ you are most welcome, my prince. _j._ i have come from my brother, the king, to express to you his thanks for having bought my pleasure grounds for the noble and great purpose of affording a worthy resthouse to the buddha and his brotherhood. _a._ kindly tender my gratitude to your royal brother for his gracious message. _j._ i hear that king bimbisara has sent an embassy to the buddha to induce him to come back to rajagaha. has the buddha received these men? _a._ not yet. he will see them this morning. _j._ we ought to keep him here. he is a wonderful man, and i consider our city fortunate to have him reside with us. what astonishes me is his way of conquering the hearts of all men, even of his opponents, and he is so sensible. _a._ what do you mean? _j._ i am not a religious man; i am too worldly, but him i would follow. _a._ why? _j._ he is perhaps the only religious reformer who does not go to extremes. he rejects on the one hand austerities, self-mortifications, penances, and severe fasts as useless, and on the other hand, he would not allow his followers to indulge in pleasures; but he insists most sensibly on keeping between the two extremes and proclaims the middle path of leading a righteous life. there is nothing absurd about him. think of devadatta. he insists that the monks should dress in rags picked up in cemeteries. the buddha appeals to common sense, and therefore i say, he is a wonderful man. _a._ he is more than a man; he is enlightenment incarnate. a stream of blessings goes out from him. _j._ he has grown into an international power, and kings do well not to ignore his influence. _a._ i think so myself, and i am so glad that his influence is always for good, never for evil, and his ways are so marvelously gentle. _j._ indeed that is a blessing. if he were not so absolutely indifferent to his own affairs he might become positively dangerous. his lay disciples count in thousands of thousands. the farmers in the country, the merchants in the towns, the lawyers, the artisans, and even the soldiers believe in him. lately general siha became a lay member of the buddha's brotherhood, and many other prominent officers followed his example. _a._ he would never have gained this influence if he were not truly the buddha. _j._ i want to tell you that a war is threatening, but please do not speak of it, it is a deep secret. a spy in the secret service of my royal brother has found out that king bimbisara intends to fall upon the sakyas and deprive them of their independence. the brahman visakha, minister of state, has turned traitor and promises to deliver his country into the hands of king bimbisara on the condition that he be made raja in suddhodana's place. _a._ the country of the sakyas is but small, and their independence will not last long; it is a mere question of time. _j._ but consider that the buddha hails from kapilavatthu. he is the son of suddhodana, the sakya raja. _a._ indeed he is and may i be permitted to inform him of the danger that threatens his father's house? _j._ i give you full liberty, for he will use discretion and not betray his informant. i deem bimbisara's plan dangerous to himself. a war with the sakyas may cost bimbisara his throne, for the people of rajagaha believe in the buddha, and i learn that even now the war rumors have made them restless. _servant (st.) enters._ _st._ here is a man with the name kala udayin, who has a message for the blessed one. _a._ show him in. _j._ i leave you now and hope that you will keep the buddha as long as possible in savatthi. _exit._ _kala udayin enters and bows to anatha pindika._ _a._ you want to see the blessed one? i will call him. _anatha pindika exit._ _k._ [_alone_] this is the place where prince siddhattha lives! indeed a most delightful spot and more pleasant than many a royal palace. and how the people speak of him! they call him the blessed one, the buddha, the tathagata, the sakyamuni, the great sage. the wealthiest man of kosala has bought these extensive and most beautiful grounds and presented them to the brotherhood of his disciples, so that the buddha would stay here from time to time, and that the people of the city would have him for their guest. _buddha accompanied by anatha pindika comes in. he is followed by two disciples. the buddha sits down on the seat on the platform, having on either hand one of his disciples. anatha pindika stands below with clasped hands._ _kala udayin sinks to his knees with clasped hands._ _b._ my friend, what brings you here? _k._ a message from your royal father: he bade me tell you that he is growing old, and before he dies, he wants to see his son once more. would you deign to accept his invitation? _b._ tell me, my friend, how is my father? is old age truly telling on him? _k._ not yet so visibly, but he worries much. _b._ and how is rahula? he is now seven years old and must be quite a boy. _k._ he is, my lord; and how he talks of his father. he knows everything you are doing. _b._ who tells him? _k._ his mother does. _b._ and tell me how the princess fares? _k._ she imposes upon herself the observances which the mendicant friars keep. she will have no preference over him who once was her husband. she sleeps on the floor, she does no longer use unguents or perfumes. she wears a simple yellow robe and observes the regulation of the brotherhood in taking food. _the buddha nods and with a distant look sits a few moments in silence._ _b._ and she is a good mother? _k._ there could be no better. _st._ [_announces_] an embassy of the most potent king of magadha, the great bimbisara. _b._ [_addressing himself to the servant_] let them come in, [_turning to k._] kala udayin, bring my father greetings, and say that i shall come. _kala udayin exit._ _a number of men, the embassy of king bimbisara, led by nagadeva, most gorgeously dressed, file in. they let themselves down on one knee, clasp their hands and rise again._ _n._ most gracious lord, all-wise and blessed buddha, our noble sov'reign bids me tender you his most respectful greetings, and he hopes that you return and visit rajagaha, for he is very anxious to be honored by your auspicious presence in his kingdom. _b._ my lords, express to your most mighty king that the tathagata can not accept this friendly invitation, for he will start for his home, the country of the sakyas, to see his aged father and his kin. if war or other ills befall his people, he wants to live, if need be, die with them. _n._ lord buddha, speak a word of truth to us, for i'm aware thou art omniscient. our royal master wants to hear from thee. _b._ all bodily existence passeth by for it is compound and will be dissolved; but there is law; it is the uncreate, it is th' etern, which is without beginning and without end. that must our refuge be. he who relies on the impermanent, and, being strong, attempts to crush the weak, will soon break down. this is the law of deeds, for as we sow, such will our harvest be. rely on truth, the uncreate, th' etern, be guided by the rule of righteousness. this is my message to the king, your lord, and may he be advised to rule his country with love of peace, with goodness, and with wisdom. my blessing be on him and on his people. _they kneel, clasp their hands, circumambulate the buddha and file out._ _jeta returns in excitement._ _j._ the war is on! king bimbisara's army is building bridges to attack the sakyas. [curtain. trumpet signals, military music.] _fourth interlude._ _living pictures accompanied by appropriate music._ . king bimbisara on the royal elephant. the king is seated under a canopy, together with his minister and field marshal. on the head of the elephant, the driver; and retinue on either side. . the wanderer. the buddha was in the habit of wandering through the country from place to place. the picture shows him with a staff in his right hand and a bowl in his left in an indian landscape. . king bimbisara in camp. standing before the royal tent he addresses his generals. act v. first scene. [reception hall of the raja suddhodana; indian pompous style; columns and beyond an outlook into a tropical palm-garden. seats scattered through the room. on the left a compartment, open toward the audience, is separated from the main room by hanging carpets.] _near the right side suddhodana is seated with pajapati and yasodhara. rahula in the background (viz., in the garden) in the care of a nurse._ _s._ the time is troublesome, and it appears that war is imminent. _p._ oh do not fret; visakha is a cunning diplomat: i hope he'll be successful, and he will persuade king bimbisara to keep peace. _s._ i do hope too, but hope against conviction. _visakha and devala enter._ there come the brahman and the gallant captain. _v._ [kneeling on one foot to the king] hail maharaja! _d._ hail, my gracious king. _s._ welcome my worthy messengers! _they kneel to pajapati._ _p._ be welcome. _s._ tell me at once, how did your mission speed? _v._ there is a subtle influence against you at bimbisara's court; there is a party bound to have war, and they will have it too, unless we meet them by diplomacy. leave it to me, and i'll preserve the peace. _s._ had not my son turned mendicant, how useful could he at present be! i need a general, a trusty man of youthful strength and courage to take the helm and lead the ship of state through storm and danger, for our foes are strong. _v._ great raja, i am privy to your grief, i know the hope you'd set upon siddhattha. what brilliant gifts the boy inherited, from you, his royal father, and how he, forgetful of his filial duty, left you, and his fair wife and child, to turn a beggar. _s._ all this is true, remind me not of it, 'tis a disgrace to our most royal house, and all the rajas in the indian land, will point to us and mock the sakya tribe. _rahula comes in with childlike joy and brings his mother a rose._ _r._ here, mother, is a rose. i picked it from the bush where the nightingale sings. i thought, if father had been here, he would have brought the rose to you. he loves the flowers and so do you. _y._ my darling! _s._ [_with a touch of anger_] yasodhara, i wish you would not speak to him too much of his father. _r._ why should mother not mention father? i love him and i should know all about him. i want to join the buddha's brotherhood. _s._ do you love him more than your grandfather? _r._ i love my grandfather too, i love mother, and you, dear grandmother [_turning to pajapati_]. you are always so kind to me. i love you all. but father i love in a different manner. i love him as buddha. i clasp my hands to him as to a god; and so do you mother, do you not? _y._ [_puts her hand on rahula's mouth_] hush! i thank you for the rose, my child; now run away and bring another rose to grandfather, and one for your grandmother pajapati. _r._ yes mother, and one i keep for father when he comes. _runs off._ _v._ your grandson needs a father, maha raja! and let me tender you my humble service. i see yasodhara, the noble princess, pine patiently away and spend in mourning her life's best years of youth and happiness. she has been cruelly deserted, has been widowed by siddhattha for a whim. give her to me in marriage, and i'll prove a better father than that runaway, a better father to your little grandson, a better husband to his widowed wife. _s._ you are at liberty to ask my daughter. _v._ fair princess, cease to mourn, and grant my suit. thou shalt see better days than heretofore. _y._ i pledged my troth to gotama siddhattha, and i shall never break my faith to him. _v._ siddhattha is no more, he has turned monk and you are free, you are siddhattha's widow. _s._ my daughter, do not think that i oppose visakha's suit, for on the contrary i do support it, and i wish you would accept him as a husband, for i need alliance with a brave and trusty man. _v._ princess yasodhara, here is my hand, do not refuse me. _y._ brahman, spare your words. _v._ the time will come when you will sore regret. o king, compel her to obey; make use of your good right as master of this house, for i alone can save the sakya state. _p._ o worthy brahman, do not threaten us. _v._ decide, o maharaja; thou art lord! thy bidding must be done. shall women rule, or art thou master still in thine own home? _s._ i am master here; but not a tyrant; among our people master means a leader. the sakya yeomen justly pride themselves on their free institutions. i'm the first among them, not an autocrat nor despot; i serve them as adviser, guide and father; shall i who never would infringe upon the right of any poorest peasant woman, compel a princess of the royal house to marry 'gainst her will? no sir, not i. i wished the princess to accept your suit, but i shall never say, she must be yours. _v._ king of the sakyas, you forget yourself, i am a brahman and of noble birth. i served you faithfully for many years, but now i quit your service, for i know that bimbisara, king of magadha, the mightiest of indian rulers, will welcome me as friend and counselor. _he bows to the king and pajapati, and leaves. for a moment they are all silent._ _s._ i fear me that means war. _d._ indeed it does. if you remember, king, visakha said there was a subtle influence against you at bimbisara's court. it dawns on me that he, visakha, is the cause of it. i saw him whisper with a courtier, then he spoke in secret with a general, and with the king too he was closeted. the hypocrite has thrown away his mask, and since he spoke out boldly, i know now that he has been intriguing all the time. _s._ he thinks i hate my son, but i do not. i'm only angry, i am disappointed, because he did not heed my dearest wish. i love him still and i invited him to visit his old home and me, his father. i sent udayin with a kindly greeting. oh, i'd forgive him all, and e'en his flight, had only he not turned a mendicant. it hurts my pride to see a sakya prince, and mine own son, go round from house to house with bowl in hand to beg his daily food. _rahula comes in excited._ _r._ grandfather, here is your rose, and grandma, here is yours. and oh! did you hear the news? _y._ what is it, boy? why are you so excited? _p._ who told you any news? _r._ the guards at the gate. they say that my father has come. all the people rush out of their houses and greet him with clasped hands. they strew flowers on the road and hail him as the buddha! _y._ [_rises_] why, is it possible? _wants to retire._ _s._ stay here. kala udayin comes. _kala enter and kneels._ _k._ i bow in humble reverence before the king. and my respectful salutations to all the members of the royal house [_turning to gopa_] and to you. _s._ bring you good news, udayin? _k._ your noble son, my king, is coming. _s._ where did you find him? _k._ at the jetavana at savatthi. _s._ what kind of a place is that? _k._ it is the most wonderful pleasure park i ever saw. o king, your garden here is a paltry affair in comparison with the jetavana. _s._ there he lives in luxury? _k._ oh no sir. not at all. he could live in luxury, if he wanted to, but he leads a simple life, as simple as the humblest servant in your home, and when he wanders through the country after the rainy season he lives like any mendicant friar. he overtook me on my way, and when he came hither to kapilavatthu, his home, he did as usual. last night he slept in the forest, and this morning he went from house to house with bowl in hand, begging his food, and he spoke a blessing wherever people greeted him kindly, or gave him to eat. _s._ oh my son, my son! why didst thou not go straight to the palace where thy father has food enough for thee and all thy disciples! _k._ he always follows the rule of the mendicants. _s._ oh my son! why dost thou shame thy father in his own home? _k._ the blessed one deems it no shame to beg. he is as modest as a pauper and shows no pride, but wherever he comes, he is greeted like a king, nay like a king of kings, and the wealthiest and most powerful rulers come to do him reverence. _s._ and he is here, this wonderful man? and he is my son siddhattha? _k._ yes, he is here, and it is your son, but no longer siddhattha, the sakya prince, but sakya muni, the sage of the sakyas, the buddha, the blessed one. when i spoke to him and gave him your message, he inquired for you and the queen pajapati [_yasodhara rises_] and for you, most honored princess and for rahula. yes, he inquired for you and how rahula had grown. _y._ did he speak kindly of us? _k._ he always speaks kindly, and he is always calm. [music a song, buddhist doxology, at a distance] _k._ o listen to the music. here he comes, the glorious buddha. he must be at the gate. _y._ [_rises again and withdraws._] i must be gone. _p._ o stay, yasodhara. _y._ no, i will hide me from his very sight; and if i am to him of any value, he will ask for me. _s._ stay, yasodhara. _y._ he fled from me because i was a hindrance in his great quest, and he may shun me still. _s._ stay none the less. _p._ nay, let her withdraw; she is in tears and would break down. _yasodhara and pajapati withdraw to the partition behind the curtains._ _s._ you say, that my son is greeted even by kings with clasped hands? _k._ yea, even kings kneel to him. _s._ i shall do nothing of the kind. he is my son, my disobedient son, and i am still his father. _pajapati returns._ _the procession of the buddha comes. two monks precede and stand at either side of the buddha. accompanying monks and other public come into the garden, crowding up to the columns. they all kneel with clasped hands, except suddhodana._ _b._ my blessing to this house, to you, o king, and also to the queen pajapati, my dear good aunt and loving foster mother. _s._ at last thou comest back, my wayward son, but why didst shame me? why didst thou go begging here in my capital? thou art descended from ancestors who are a royal race. _b._ my ancestors are buddhas of past ages, their thinking has descended unto me, their habits and their rules of life i follow, and not the regulations of a court. _the people rise to their feet again; kala joins gopa._ _s._ tell me, what are the rules of former buddhas? _b._ they greet you with a stanza in return for any food or hospitality. _s._ i shall be glad to hear what you will say. _b._ awake from sleep, dispel the dream; before the truth's bright ray things truly are not what they seem but truth points out the way. truth, truth alone will bring you bliss, in the next life and e'en in this. _rahula brings a rose to buddha._ _r._ here, father, is a rose i saved for you on the big bush where nests the nightingale. _b._ and this is rahula! how you have grown! where is your mother? _s._ yasodhara was here, but would not stay. on hearing that you came she left the room and said that if at all you cared for her, you would not fail to ask. _b._ but i want to see her, lead me to the place. _buddha hands his bowl to the king, pajapati rises and leads the way. at a distance a flourish of trumpets._ _d._ what military signals do i hear? _s._ go, captain devala, see what it means. _devala exit. suddhodana hands the bowl to one of the disciples._ _b._ ye two disciples shall attend the meeting. above all passion has the buddha risen, but he will comfort her who loves him dearly. the princess' heart is filled with deepest grief, and in no wise shall any one rebuke her in whatsoever way she greeteth him. _pajapati opens the curtain leading to the apartment where yasodhara sits. buddha, pajapati and suddhodana enter. yasodhara sinks down before him and holds his feet, weeping. the flourish of trumpets is repeated._ _s._ [_grows restless, turns to pajapati_] these warlike trumpets have a foreign sound and may forbode the enemy's attack. _he leaves the apartment where yasodhara is and re-enters the hall, going toward the entrance in the background between the columns._ _b._ yasodhara, i bring thee happy tidings, deliverance is found, let go thy grief. _yasodhara looking up to buddha with deep emotion._ _y._ oh lord, how did i long for your return, but in your eyes i have become as naught. _b._ my faithful helpmate and my former wife, thou hast been dear to me, dear art thou still, but truth is dearer, and to truth i cling, while on my quest of truth in former lives, and also now in this existence, thou with voluntary sacrifice hast aided me, imagine not that thou a hindrance art to me or to my work and holy mission. next to my sainted mother thou art blessed among the women of this world. rejoice and let grief pass from thy suffering soul. _y._ [_in a kneeling posture_] grant me a boon, my lord, a precious boon. _r._ yea, father, grant the boon that mother wants. _b._ speak, princess, and i listen to thy word. i know thy heart, yasodhara; i know that naught but worthy thoughts dwell in thy mind. _y._ grant me to help thee in thy noble mission. i want to join the band of thy disciples. _she pauses and the buddha hesitates to answer._ i shall be happy if i do thy work. _b._ dost thou not know this boon is but a burden? _y._ the heavier it be, my lord, the more i welcome it. _r._ oh grant the boon! _b._ not yet yasodhara, have women been admitted; but i foresee the time will come. _y._ my lord the time is here if thou but grant the boon. _the buddha places his right hand in blessing upon yasodhara's head._ _b._ so let it be, and so thy boon be granted; i may not hinder thee if thou insistest. _as pajapati helps yasodhara to rise, a third flourish of trumpets is heard, this time near by and loud. devala returns in great excitement and addresses suddhodana._ _d._ my noble liege, an embassy is coming from bimbisara, king of magadha. they are the kingdom's highest ministers, and sullen do they look and their retainers. _s._ 'tis most unfortunate, but let them in. _d._ there's more to be announced. _s._ you look excited. _d._ it is but the beginning of the end: our scouts are captured, one of them escaped. _he hesitates._ _s._ well, devala? _d._ he carries evil news. _s._ [_with great anxiety_] by issara! speak, man! don't hesitate. _devala covers his eyes with his hands and sobs._ _s._ tell me the worst. tell me the worst at once. _d._ o that i had no tongue to tell the tidings. _s._ i will be brave, speak freely! be a man! _in the meantime the buddha together with the others has entered the main hall._ _d._ our cause is lost. we are surrounded, three bridges have been built and general siha stands ready with an overwhelming army to crush us. _s._ once i had a son! but he alas! turned mendicant and fails me now! in him no drop of warrior blood is left, no spark of honor gloweth in his heart and our ancestral pride goes down in shame. _b._ transient, my noble father, are all things. all kingdoms finally must pass away, but if thou tak'st thy refuge in the truth, thou wilt be free from all vicissitudes. the kingdom of the truth alone endures. _s._ [_with indignation._] siddhattha, spare thy monkish rant, far better than thy cowardly submission, far nobler and befitting it would be, to draw the sword and die a hero's death. _the embassy in solemn procession files in as before at the jetavana. the buddha withdraws and is not noticed by the embassy. prime minister nagadeva (n) addresses king suddhodana._ _n._ oh maharaja, listen to our message! the ruler of the mighty magadha, king bimbisara, sends you kindly greetings. he wants you to entreat the blessed one, the holy buddha, who now stays with you, who, as he learneth, is your noble son, to come to rajagaha on a visit. there have been rumors of intended war, and armies are maneuvering nearby, but be assured, our noble king means peace. he would not draw the sword against your state, nor wage a war against the buddha's father. _suddhodana's eye searches for the buddha who has been standing behind a column and now steps forward._ _s._ oh noble son, oh blessed, highest buddha, thou art indeed a king of kings on earth! _he kneels down. all members of the embassy do the same._ no crown thou wear'st, no scepter's in thy hand, thou needest neither lance, nor sword nor shield, and yet thou rulest, with mere word and thought, thou sway'st the destinies of all the world, i did not know thy power and thy great worth; but now i bow me down in humble faith, and i take refuge in the truth thou preachest. henceforth i will devote myself to spread the kingdom of good will and righteousness. [music buddhist doxology] [curtain] * * * * * siddhartha an indian tale by hermann hesse first part to romain rolland, my dear friend the son of the brahman in the shade of the house, in the sunshine of the riverbank near the boats, in the shade of the sal-wood forest, in the shade of the fig tree is where siddhartha grew up, the handsome son of the brahman, the young falcon, together with his friend govinda, son of a brahman. the sun tanned his light shoulders by the banks of the river when bathing, performing the sacred ablutions, the sacred offerings. in the mango grove, shade poured into his black eyes, when playing as a boy, when his mother sang, when the sacred offerings were made, when his father, the scholar, taught him, when the wise men talked. for a long time, siddhartha had been partaking in the discussions of the wise men, practising debate with govinda, practising with govinda the art of reflection, the service of meditation. he already knew how to speak the om silently, the word of words, to speak it silently into himself while inhaling, to speak it silently out of himself while exhaling, with all the concentration of his soul, the forehead surrounded by the glow of the clear-thinking spirit. he already knew to feel atman in the depths of his being, indestructible, one with the universe. joy leapt in his father's heart for his son who was quick to learn, thirsty for knowledge; he saw him growing up to become great wise man and priest, a prince among the brahmans. bliss leapt in his mother's breast when she saw him, when she saw him walking, when she saw him sit down and get up, siddhartha, strong, handsome, he who was walking on slender legs, greeting her with perfect respect. love touched the hearts of the brahmans' young daughters when siddhartha walked through the lanes of the town with the luminous forehead, with the eye of a king, with his slim hips. but more than all the others he was loved by govinda, his friend, the son of a brahman. he loved siddhartha's eye and sweet voice, he loved his walk and the perfect decency of his movements, he loved everything siddhartha did and said and what he loved most was his spirit, his transcendent, fiery thoughts, his ardent will, his high calling. govinda knew: he would not become a common brahman, not a lazy official in charge of offerings; not a greedy merchant with magic spells; not a vain, vacuous speaker; not a mean, deceitful priest; and also not a decent, stupid sheep in the herd of the many. no, and he, govinda, as well did not want to become one of those, not one of those tens of thousands of brahmans. he wanted to follow siddhartha, the beloved, the splendid. and in days to come, when siddhartha would become a god, when he would join the glorious, then govinda wanted to follow him as his friend, his companion, his servant, his spear-carrier, his shadow. siddhartha was thus loved by everyone. he was a source of joy for everybody, he was a delight for them all. but he, siddhartha, was not a source of joy for himself, he found no delight in himself. walking the rosy paths of the fig tree garden, sitting in the bluish shade of the grove of contemplation, washing his limbs daily in the bath of repentance, sacrificing in the dim shade of the mango forest, his gestures of perfect decency, everyone's love and joy, he still lacked all joy in his heart. dreams and restless thoughts came into his mind, flowing from the water of the river, sparkling from the stars of the night, melting from the beams of the sun, dreams came to him and a restlessness of the soul, fuming from the sacrifices, breathing forth from the verses of the rig-veda, being infused into him, drop by drop, from the teachings of the old brahmans. siddhartha had started to nurse discontent in himself, he had started to feel that the love of his father and the love of his mother, and also the love of his friend, govinda, would not bring him joy for ever and ever, would not nurse him, feed him, satisfy him. he had started to suspect that his venerable father and his other teachers, that the wise brahmans had already revealed to him the most and best of their wisdom, that they had already filled his expecting vessel with their richness, and the vessel was not full, the spirit was not content, the soul was not calm, the heart was not satisfied. the ablutions were good, but they were water, they did not wash off the sin, they did not heal the spirit's thirst, they did not relieve the fear in his heart. the sacrifices and the invocation of the gods were excellent--but was that all? did the sacrifices give a happy fortune? and what about the gods? was it really prajapati who had created the world? was it not the atman, he, the only one, the singular one? were the gods not creations, created like me and you, subject to time, mortal? was it therefore good, was it right, was it meaningful and the highest occupation to make offerings to the gods? for whom else were offerings to be made, who else was to be worshipped but him, the only one, the atman? and where was atman to be found, where did he reside, where did his eternal heart beat, where else but in one's own self, in its innermost part, in its indestructible part, which everyone had in himself? but where, where was this self, this innermost part, this ultimate part? it was not flesh and bone, it was neither thought nor consciousness, thus the wisest ones taught. so, where, where was it? to reach this place, the self, myself, the atman, there was another way, which was worthwhile looking for? alas, and nobody showed this way, nobody knew it, not the father, and not the teachers and wise men, not the holy sacrificial songs! they knew everything, the brahmans and their holy books, they knew everything, they had taken care of everything and of more than everything, the creation of the world, the origin of speech, of food, of inhaling, of exhaling, the arrangement of the senses, the acts of the gods, they knew infinitely much--but was it valuable to know all of this, not knowing that one and only thing, the most important thing, the solely important thing? surely, many verses of the holy books, particularly in the upanishades of samaveda, spoke of this innermost and ultimate thing, wonderful verses. "your soul is the whole world", was written there, and it was written that man in his sleep, in his deep sleep, would meet with his innermost part and would reside in the atman. marvellous wisdom was in these verses, all knowledge of the wisest ones had been collected here in magic words, pure as honey collected by bees. no, not to be looked down upon was the tremendous amount of enlightenment which lay here collected and preserved by innumerable generations of wise brahmans.-- but where were the brahmans, where the priests, where the wise men or penitents, who had succeeded in not just knowing this deepest of all knowledge but also to live it? where was the knowledgeable one who wove his spell to bring his familiarity with the atman out of the sleep into the state of being awake, into the life, into every step of the way, into word and deed? siddhartha knew many venerable brahmans, chiefly his father, the pure one, the scholar, the most venerable one. his father was to be admired, quiet and noble were his manners, pure his life, wise his words, delicate and noble thoughts lived behind its brow --but even he, who knew so much, did he live in blissfulness, did he have peace, was he not also just a searching man, a thirsty man? did he not, again and again, have to drink from holy sources, as a thirsty man, from the offerings, from the books, from the disputes of the brahmans? why did he, the irreproachable one, have to wash off sins every day, strive for a cleansing every day, over and over every day? was not atman in him, did not the pristine source spring from his heart? it had to be found, the pristine source in one's own self, it had to be possessed! everything else was searching, was a detour, was getting lost. thus were siddhartha's thoughts, this was his thirst, this was his suffering. often he spoke to himself from a chandogya-upanishad the words: "truly, the name of the brahman is satyam--verily, he who knows such a thing, will enter the heavenly world every day." often, it seemed near, the heavenly world, but never he had reached it completely, never he had quenched the ultimate thirst. and among all the wise and wisest men, he knew and whose instructions he had received, among all of them there was no one, who had reached it completely, the heavenly world, who had quenched it completely, the eternal thirst. "govinda," siddhartha spoke to his friend, "govinda, my dear, come with me under the banyan tree, let's practise meditation." they went to the banyan tree, they sat down, siddhartha right here, govinda twenty paces away. while putting himself down, ready to speak the om, siddhartha repeated murmuring the verse: om is the bow, the arrow is soul, the brahman is the arrow's target, that one should incessantly hit. after the usual time of the exercise in meditation had passed, govinda rose. the evening had come, it was time to perform the evening's ablution. he called siddhartha's name. siddhartha did not answer. siddhartha sat there lost in thought, his eyes were rigidly focused towards a very distant target, the tip of his tongue was protruding a little between the teeth, he seemed not to breathe. thus sat he, wrapped up in contemplation, thinking om, his soul sent after the brahman as an arrow. once, samanas had travelled through siddhartha's town, ascetics on a pilgrimage, three skinny, withered men, neither old nor young, with dusty and bloody shoulders, almost naked, scorched by the sun, surrounded by loneliness, strangers and enemies to the world, strangers and lank jackals in the realm of humans. behind them blew a hot scent of quiet passion, of destructive service, of merciless self-denial. in the evening, after the hour of contemplation, siddhartha spoke to govinda: "early tomorrow morning, my friend, siddhartha will go to the samanas. he will become a samana." govinda turned pale, when he heard these words and read the decision in the motionless face of his friend, unstoppable like the arrow shot from the bow. soon and with the first glance, govinda realized: now it is beginning, now siddhartha is taking his own way, now his fate is beginning to sprout, and with his, my own. and he turned pale like a dry banana-skin. "o siddhartha," he exclaimed, "will your father permit you to do that?" siddhartha looked over as if he was just waking up. arrow-fast he read in govinda's soul, read the fear, read the submission. "o govinda," he spoke quietly, "let's not waste words. tomorrow, at daybreak i will begin the life of the samanas. speak no more of it." siddhartha entered the chamber, where his father was sitting on a mat of bast, and stepped behind his father and remained standing there, until his father felt that someone was standing behind him. quoth the brahman: "is that you, siddhartha? then say what you came to say." quoth siddhartha: "with your permission, my father. i came to tell you that it is my longing to leave your house tomorrow and go to the ascetics. my desire is to become a samana. may my father not oppose this." the brahman fell silent, and remained silent for so long that the stars in the small window wandered and changed their relative positions, 'ere the silence was broken. silent and motionless stood the son with his arms folded, silent and motionless sat the father on the mat, and the stars traced their paths in the sky. then spoke the father: "not proper it is for a brahman to speak harsh and angry words. but indignation is in my heart. i wish not to hear this request for a second time from your mouth." slowly, the brahman rose; siddhartha stood silently, his arms folded. "what are you waiting for?" asked the father. quoth siddhartha: "you know what." indignant, the father left the chamber; indignant, he went to his bed and lay down. after an hour, since no sleep had come over his eyes, the brahman stood up, paced to and fro, and left the house. through the small window of the chamber he looked back inside, and there he saw siddhartha standing, his arms folded, not moving from his spot. pale shimmered his bright robe. with anxiety in his heart, the father returned to his bed. after another hour, since no sleep had come over his eyes, the brahman stood up again, paced to and fro, walked out of the house and saw that the moon had risen. through the window of the chamber he looked back inside; there stood siddhartha, not moving from his spot, his arms folded, moonlight reflecting from his bare shins. with worry in his heart, the father went back to bed. and he came back after an hour, he came back after two hours, looked through the small window, saw siddhartha standing, in the moon light, by the light of the stars, in the darkness. and he came back hour after hour, silently, he looked into the chamber, saw him standing in the same place, filled his heart with anger, filled his heart with unrest, filled his heart with anguish, filled it with sadness. and in the night's last hour, before the day began, he returned, stepped into the room, saw the young man standing there, who seemed tall and like a stranger to him. "siddhartha," he spoke, "what are you waiting for?" "you know what." "will you always stand that way and wait, until it'll becomes morning, noon, and evening?" "i will stand and wait. "you will become tired, siddhartha." "i will become tired." "you will fall asleep, siddhartha." "i will not fall asleep." "you will die, siddhartha." "i will die." "and would you rather die, than obey your father?" "siddhartha has always obeyed his father." "so will you abandon your plan?" "siddhartha will do what his father will tell him to do." the first light of day shone into the room. the brahman saw that siddhartha was trembling softly in his knees. in siddhartha's face he saw no trembling, his eyes were fixed on a distant spot. then his father realized that even now siddhartha no longer dwelt with him in his home, that he had already left him. the father touched siddhartha's shoulder. "you will," he spoke, "go into the forest and be a samana. when you'll have found blissfulness in the forest, then come back and teach me to be blissful. if you'll find disappointment, then return and let us once again make offerings to the gods together. go now and kiss your mother, tell her where you are going to. but for me it is time to go to the river and to perform the first ablution." he took his hand from the shoulder of his son and went outside. siddhartha wavered to the side, as he tried to walk. he put his limbs back under control, bowed to his father, and went to his mother to do as his father had said. as he slowly left on stiff legs in the first light of day the still quiet town, a shadow rose near the last hut, who had crouched there, and joined the pilgrim--govinda. "you have come," said siddhartha and smiled. "i have come," said govinda. with the samanas in the evening of this day they caught up with the ascetics, the skinny samanas, and offered them their companionship and--obedience. they were accepted. siddhartha gave his garments to a poor brahman in the street. he wore nothing more than the loincloth and the earth-coloured, unsown cloak. he ate only once a day, and never something cooked. he fasted for fifteen days. he fasted for twenty-eight days. the flesh waned from his thighs and cheeks. feverish dreams flickered from his enlarged eyes, long nails grew slowly on his parched fingers and a dry, shaggy beard grew on his chin. his glance turned to ice when he encountered women; his mouth twitched with contempt, when he walked through a city of nicely dressed people. he saw merchants trading, princes hunting, mourners wailing for their dead, whores offering themselves, physicians trying to help the sick, priests determining the most suitable day for seeding, lovers loving, mothers nursing their children--and all of this was not worthy of one look from his eye, it all lied, it all stank, it all stank of lies, it all pretended to be meaningful and joyful and beautiful, and it all was just concealed putrefaction. the world tasted bitter. life was torture. a goal stood before siddhartha, a single goal: to become empty, empty of thirst, empty of wishing, empty of dreams, empty of joy and sorrow. dead to himself, not to be a self any more, to find tranquility with an emptied heart, to be open to miracles in unselfish thoughts, that was his goal. once all of my self was overcome and had died, once every desire and every urge was silent in the heart, then the ultimate part of me had to awake, the innermost of my being, which is no longer my self, the great secret. silently, siddhartha exposed himself to burning rays of the sun directly above, glowing with pain, glowing with thirst, and stood there, until he neither felt any pain nor thirst any more. silently, he stood there in the rainy season, from his hair the water was dripping over freezing shoulders, over freezing hips and legs, and the penitent stood there, until he could not feel the cold in his shoulders and legs any more, until they were silent, until they were quiet. silently, he cowered in the thorny bushes, blood dripped from the burning skin, from festering wounds dripped pus, and siddhartha stayed rigidly, stayed motionless, until no blood flowed any more, until nothing stung any more, until nothing burned any more. siddhartha sat upright and learned to breathe sparingly, learned to get along with only few breathes, learned to stop breathing. he learned, beginning with the breath, to calm the beat of his heart, leaned to reduce the beats of his heart, until they were only a few and almost none. instructed by the oldest of the samanas, siddhartha practised self-denial, practised meditation, according to a new samana rules. a heron flew over the bamboo forest--and siddhartha accepted the heron into his soul, flew over forest and mountains, was a heron, ate fish, felt the pangs of a heron's hunger, spoke the heron's croak, died a heron's death. a dead jackal was lying on the sandy bank, and siddhartha's soul slipped inside the body, was the dead jackal, lay on the banks, got bloated, stank, decayed, was dismembered by hyaenas, was skinned by vultures, turned into a skeleton, turned to dust, was blown across the fields. and siddhartha's soul returned, had died, had decayed, was scattered as dust, had tasted the gloomy intoxication of the cycle, awaited in new thirst like a hunter in the gap, where he could escape from the cycle, where the end of the causes, where an eternity without suffering began. he killed his senses, he killed his memory, he slipped out of his self into thousands of other forms, was an animal, was carrion, was stone, was wood, was water, and awoke every time to find his old self again, sun shone or moon, was his self again, turned round in the cycle, felt thirst, overcame the thirst, felt new thirst. siddhartha learned a lot when he was with the samanas, many ways leading away from the self he learned to go. he went the way of self-denial by means of pain, through voluntarily suffering and overcoming pain, hunger, thirst, tiredness. he went the way of self-denial by means of meditation, through imagining the mind to be void of all conceptions. these and other ways he learned to go, a thousand times he left his self, for hours and days he remained in the non-self. but though the ways led away from the self, their end nevertheless always led back to the self. though siddhartha fled from the self a thousand times, stayed in nothingness, stayed in the animal, in the stone, the return was inevitable, inescapable was the hour, when he found himself back in the sunshine or in the moonlight, in the shade or in the rain, and was once again his self and siddhartha, and again felt the agony of the cycle which had been forced upon him. by his side lived govinda, his shadow, walked the same paths, undertook the same efforts. they rarely spoke to one another, than the service and the exercises required. occasionally the two of them went through the villages, to beg for food for themselves and their teachers. "how do you think, govinda," siddhartha spoke one day while begging this way, "how do you think did we progress? did we reach any goals?" govinda answered: "we have learned, and we'll continue learning. you'll be a great samana, siddhartha. quickly, you've learned every exercise, often the old samanas have admired you. one day, you'll be a holy man, oh siddhartha." quoth siddhartha: "i can't help but feel that it is not like this, my friend. what i've learned, being among the samanas, up to this day, this, oh govinda, i could have learned more quickly and by simpler means. in every tavern of that part of a town where the whorehouses are, my friend, among carters and gamblers i could have learned it." quoth govinda: "siddhartha is putting me on. how could you have learned meditation, holding your breath, insensitivity against hunger and pain there among these wretched people?" and siddhartha said quietly, as if he was talking to himself: "what is meditation? what is leaving one's body? what is fasting? what is holding one's breath? it is fleeing from the self, it is a short escape of the agony of being a self, it is a short numbing of the senses against the pain and the pointlessness of life. the same escape, the same short numbing is what the driver of an ox-cart finds in the inn, drinking a few bowls of rice-wine or fermented coconut-milk. then he won't feel his self any more, then he won't feel the pains of life any more, then he finds a short numbing of the senses. when he falls asleep over his bowl of rice-wine, he'll find the same what siddhartha and govinda find when they escape their bodies through long exercises, staying in the non-self. this is how it is, oh govinda." quoth govinda: "you say so, oh friend, and yet you know that siddhartha is no driver of an ox-cart and a samana is no drunkard. it's true that a drinker numbs his senses, it's true that he briefly escapes and rests, but he'll return from the delusion, finds everything to be unchanged, has not become wiser, has gathered no enlightenment,--has not risen several steps." and siddhartha spoke with a smile: "i do not know, i've never been a drunkard. but that i, siddhartha, find only a short numbing of the senses in my exercises and meditations and that i am just as far removed from wisdom, from salvation, as a child in the mother's womb, this i know, oh govinda, this i know." and once again, another time, when siddhartha left the forest together with govinda, to beg for some food in the village for their brothers and teachers, siddhartha began to speak and said: "what now, oh govinda, might we be on the right path? might we get closer to enlightenment? might we get closer to salvation? or do we perhaps live in a circle-- we, who have thought we were escaping the cycle?" quoth govinda: "we have learned a lot, siddhartha, there is still much to learn. we are not going around in circles, we are moving up, the circle is a spiral, we have already ascended many a level." siddhartha answered: "how old, would you think, is our oldest samana, our venerable teacher?" quoth govinda: "our oldest one might be about sixty years of age." and siddhartha: "he has lived for sixty years and has not reached the nirvana. he'll turn seventy and eighty, and you and me, we will grow just as old and will do our exercises, and will fast, and will meditate. but we will not reach the nirvana, he won't and we won't. oh govinda, i believe out of all the samanas out there, perhaps not a single one, not a single one, will reach the nirvana. we find comfort, we find numbness, we learn feats, to deceive others. but the most important thing, the path of paths, we will not find." "if you only," spoke govinda, "wouldn't speak such terrible words, siddhartha! how could it be that among so many learned men, among so many brahmans, among so many austere and venerable samanas, among so many who are searching, so many who are eagerly trying, so many holy men, no one will find the path of paths?" but siddhartha said in a voice which contained just as much sadness as mockery, with a quiet, a slightly sad, a slightly mocking voice: "soon, govinda, your friend will leave the path of the samanas, he has walked along your side for so long. i'm suffering of thirst, oh govinda, and on this long path of a samana, my thirst has remained as strong as ever. i always thirsted for knowledge, i have always been full of questions. i have asked the brahmans, year after year, and i have asked the holy vedas, year after year, and i have asked the devote samanas, year after year. perhaps, oh govinda, it had been just as well, had been just as smart and just as profitable, if i had asked the hornbill-bird or the chimpanzee. it took me a long time and am not finished learning this yet, oh govinda: that there is nothing to be learned! there is indeed no such thing, so i believe, as what we refer to as `learning'. there is, oh my friend, just one knowledge, this is everywhere, this is atman, this is within me and within you and within every creature. and so i'm starting to believe that this knowledge has no worser enemy than the desire to know it, than learning." at this, govinda stopped on the path, rose his hands, and spoke: "if you, siddhartha, only would not bother your friend with this kind of talk! truly, you words stir up fear in my heart. and just consider: what would become of the sanctity of prayer, what of the venerability of the brahmans' caste, what of the holiness of the samanas, if it was as you say, if there was no learning?! what, oh siddhartha, what would then become of all of this what is holy, what is precious, what is venerable on earth?!" and govinda mumbled a verse to himself, a verse from an upanishad: he who ponderingly, of a purified spirit, loses himself in the meditation of atman, unexpressable by words is his blissfulness of his heart. but siddhartha remained silent. he thought about the words which govinda had said to him and thought the words through to their end. yes, he thought, standing there with his head low, what would remain of all that which seemed to us to be holy? what remains? what can stand the test? and he shook his head. at one time, when the two young men had lived among the samanas for about three years and had shared their exercises, some news, a rumour, a myth reached them after being retold many times: a man had appeared, gotama by name, the exalted one, the buddha, he had overcome the suffering of the world in himself and had halted the cycle of rebirths. he was said to wander through the land, teaching, surrounded by disciples, without possession, without home, without a wife, in the yellow cloak of an ascetic, but with a cheerful brow, a man of bliss, and brahmans and princes would bow down before him and would become his students. this myth, this rumour, this legend resounded, its fragrants rose up, here and there; in the towns, the brahmans spoke of it and in the forest, the samanas; again and again, the name of gotama, the buddha reached the ears of the young men, with good and with bad talk, with praise and with defamation. it was as if the plague had broken out in a country and news had been spreading around that in one or another place there was a man, a wise man, a knowledgeable one, whose word and breath was enough to heal everyone who had been infected with the pestilence, and as such news would go through the land and everyone would talk about it, many would believe, many would doubt, but many would get on their way as soon as possible, to seek the wise man, the helper, just like this this myth ran through the land, that fragrant myth of gotama, the buddha, the wise man of the family of sakya. he possessed, so the believers said, the highest enlightenment, he remembered his previous lives, he had reached the nirvana and never returned into the cycle, was never again submerged in the murky river of physical forms. many wonderful and unbelievable things were reported of him, he had performed miracles, had overcome the devil, had spoken to the gods. but his enemies and disbelievers said, this gotama was a vain seducer, he would spent his days in luxury, scorned the offerings, was without learning, and knew neither exercises nor self-castigation. the myth of buddha sounded sweet. the scent of magic flowed from these reports. after all, the world was sick, life was hard to bear--and behold, here a source seemed to spring forth, here a messenger seemed to call out, comforting, mild, full of noble promises. everywhere where the rumour of buddha was heard, everywhere in the lands of india, the young men listened up, felt a longing, felt hope, and among the brahmans' sons of the towns and villages every pilgrim and stranger was welcome, when he brought news of him, the exalted one, the sakyamuni. the myth had also reached the samanas in the forest, and also siddhartha, and also govinda, slowly, drop by drop, every drop laden with hope, every drop laden with doubt. they rarely talked about it, because the oldest one of the samanas did not like this myth. he had heard that this alleged buddha used to be an ascetic before and had lived in the forest, but had then turned back to luxury and worldly pleasures, and he had no high opinion of this gotama. "oh siddhartha," govinda spoke one day to his friend. "today, i was in the village, and a brahman invited me into his house, and in his house, there was the son of a brahman from magadha, who has seen the buddha with his own eyes and has heard him teach. verily, this made my chest ache when i breathed, and thought to myself: if only i would too, if only we both would too, siddhartha and me, live to see the hour when we will hear the teachings from the mouth of this perfected man! speak, friend, wouldn't we want to go there too and listen to the teachings from the buddha's mouth?" quoth siddhartha: "always, oh govinda, i had thought, govinda would stay with the samanas, always i had believed his goal was to live to be sixty and seventy years of age and to keep on practising those feats and exercises, which are becoming a samana. but behold, i had not known govinda well enough, i knew little of his heart. so now you, my faithful friend, want to take a new path and go there, where the buddha spreads his teachings." quoth govinda: "you're mocking me. mock me if you like, siddhartha! but have you not also developed a desire, an eagerness, to hear these teachings? and have you not at one time said to me, you would not walk the path of the samanas for much longer?" at this, siddhartha laughed in his very own manner, in which his voice assumed a touch of sadness and a touch of mockery, and said: "well, govinda, you've spoken well, you've remembered correctly. if you only remembered the other thing as well, you've heard from me, which is that i have grown distrustful and tired against teachings and learning, and that my faith in words, which are brought to us by teachers, is small. but let's do it, my dear, i am willing to listen to these teachings--though in my heart i believe that we've already tasted the best fruit of these teachings." quoth govinda: "your willingness delights my heart. but tell me, how should this be possible? how should the gotama's teachings, even before we have heard them, have already revealed their best fruit to us?" quoth siddhartha: "let us eat this fruit and wait for the rest, oh govinda! but this fruit, which we already now received thanks to the gotama, consisted in him calling us away from the samanas! whether he has also other and better things to give us, oh friend, let us await with calm hearts." on this very same day, siddhartha informed the oldest one of the samanas of his decision, that he wanted to leave him. he informed the oldest one with all the courtesy and modesty becoming to a younger one and a student. but the samana became angry, because the two young men wanted to leave him, and talked loudly and used crude swearwords. govinda was startled and became embarrassed. but siddhartha put his mouth close to govinda's ear and whispered to him: "now, i want to show the old man that i've learned something from him." positioning himself closely in front of the samana, with a concentrated soul, he captured the old man's glance with his glances, deprived him of his power, made him mute, took away his free will, subdued him under his own will, commanded him, to do silently, whatever he demanded him to do. the old man became mute, his eyes became motionless, his will was paralysed, his arms were hanging down; without power, he had fallen victim to siddhartha's spell. but siddhartha's thoughts brought the samana under their control, he had to carry out, what they commanded. and thus, the old man made several bows, performed gestures of blessing, spoke stammeringly a godly wish for a good journey. and the young men returned the bows with thanks, returned the wish, went on their way with salutations. on the way, govinda said: "oh siddhartha, you have learned more from the samanas than i knew. it is hard, it is very hard to cast a spell on an old samana. truly, if you had stayed there, you would soon have learned to walk on water." "i do not seek to walk on water," said siddhartha. "let old samanas be content with such feats!" gotama in the town of savathi, every child knew the name of the exalted buddha, and every house was prepared to fill the alms-dish of gotama's disciples, the silently begging ones. near the town was gotama's favourite place to stay, the grove of jetavana, which the rich merchant anathapindika, an obedient worshipper of the exalted one, had given him and his people for a gift. all tales and answers, which the two young ascetics had received in their search for gotama's abode, had pointed them towards this area. and arriving at savathi, in the very first house, before the door of which they stopped to beg, food has been offered to them, and they accepted the food, and siddhartha asked the woman, who handed them the food: "we would like to know, oh charitable one, where the buddha dwells, the most venerable one, for we are two samanas from the forest and have come, to see him, the perfected one, and to hear the teachings from his mouth." quoth the woman: "here, you have truly come to the right place, you samanas from the forest. you should know, in jetavana, in the garden of anathapindika is where the exalted one dwells. there you pilgrims shall spent the night, for there is enough space for the innumerable, who flock here, to hear the teachings from his mouth." this made govinda happy, and full of joy he exclaimed: "well so, thus we have reached our destination, and our path has come to an end! but tell us, oh mother of the pilgrims, do you know him, the buddha, have you seen him with your own eyes?" quoth the woman: "many times i have seen him, the exalted one. on many days, i have seen him, walking through the alleys in silence, wearing his yellow cloak, presenting his alms-dish in silence at the doors of the houses, leaving with a filled dish." delightedly, govinda listened and wanted to ask and hear much more. but siddhartha urged him to walk on. they thanked and left and hardly had to ask for directions, for rather many pilgrims and monks as well from gotama's community were on their way to the jetavana. and since they reached it at night, there were constant arrivals, shouts, and talk of those who sought shelter and got it. the two samanas, accustomed to life in the forest, found quickly and without making any noise a place to stay and rested there until the morning. at sunrise, they saw with astonishment what a large crowd of believers and curious people had spent the night here. on all paths of the marvellous grove, monks walked in yellow robes, under the trees they sat here and there, in deep contemplation--or in a conversation about spiritual matters, the shady gardens looked like a city, full of people, bustling like bees. the majority of the monks went out with their alms-dish, to collect food in town for their lunch, the only meal of the day. the buddha himself, the enlightened one, was also in the habit of taking this walk to beg in the morning. siddhartha saw him, and he instantly recognised him, as if a god had pointed him out to him. he saw him, a simple man in a yellow robe, bearing the alms-dish in his hand, walking silently. "look here!" siddhartha said quietly to govinda. "this one is the buddha." attentively, govinda looked at the monk in the yellow robe, who seemed to be in no way different from the hundreds of other monks. and soon, govinda also realized: this is the one. and they followed him and observed him. the buddha went on his way, modestly and deep in his thoughts, his calm face was neither happy nor sad, it seemed to smile quietly and inwardly. with a hidden smile, quiet, calm, somewhat resembling a healthy child, the buddha walked, wore the robe and placed his feet just as all of his monks did, according to a precise rule. but his face and his walk, his quietly lowered glance, his quietly dangling hand and even every finger of his quietly dangling hand expressed peace, expressed perfection, did not search, did not imitate, breathed softly in an unwhithering calm, in an unwhithering light, an untouchable peace. thus gotama walked towards the town, to collect alms, and the two samanas recognised him solely by the perfection of his calm, by the quietness of his appearance, in which there was no searching, no desire, no imitation, no effort to be seen, only light and peace. "today, we'll hear the teachings from his mouth." said govinda. siddhartha did not answer. he felt little curiosity for the teachings, he did not believe that they would teach him anything new, but he had, just as govinda had, heard the contents of this buddha's teachings again and again, though these reports only represented second- or third-hand information. but attentively he looked at gotama's head, his shoulders, his feet, his quietly dangling hand, and it seemed to him as if every joint of every finger of this hand was of these teachings, spoke of, breathed of, exhaled the fragrant of, glistened of truth. this man, this buddha was truthful down to the gesture of his last finger. this man was holy. never before, siddhartha had venerated a person so much, never before he had loved a person as much as this one. they both followed the buddha until they reached the town and then returned in silence, for they themselves intended to abstain from on this day. they saw gotama returning--what he ate could not even have satisfied a bird's appetite, and they saw him retiring into the shade of the mango-trees. but in the evening, when the heat cooled down and everyone in the camp started to bustle about and gathered around, they heard the buddha teaching. they heard his voice, and it was also perfected, was of perfect calmness, was full of peace. gotama taught the teachings of suffering, of the origin of suffering, of the way to relieve suffering. calmly and clearly his quiet speech flowed on. suffering was life, full of suffering was the world, but salvation from suffering had been found: salvation was obtained by him who would walk the path of the buddha. with a soft, yet firm voice the exalted one spoke, taught the four main doctrines, taught the eightfold path, patiently he went the usual path of the teachings, of the examples, of the repetitions, brightly and quietly his voice hovered over the listeners, like a light, like a starry sky. when the buddha--night had already fallen--ended his speech, many a pilgrim stepped forward and asked to accepted into the community, sought refuge in the teachings. and gotama accepted them by speaking: "you have heard the teachings well, it has come to you well. thus join us and walk in holiness, to put an end to all suffering." behold, then govinda, the shy one, also stepped forward and spoke: "i also take my refuge in the exalted one and his teachings," and he asked to accepted into the community of his disciples and was accepted. right afterwards, when the buddha had retired for the night, govinda turned to siddhartha and spoke eagerly: "siddhartha, it is not my place to scold you. we have both heard the exalted one, we have both perceived the teachings. govinda has heard the teachings, he has taken refuge in it. but you, my honoured friend, don't you also want to walk the path of salvation? would you want to hesitate, do you want to wait any longer?" siddhartha awakened as if he had been asleep, when he heard govinda's words. for a long time, he looked into govinda's face. then he spoke quietly, in a voice without mockery: "govinda, my friend, now you have taken this step, now you have chosen this path. always, oh govinda, you've been my friend, you've always walked one step behind me. often i have thought: won't govinda for once also take a step by himself, without me, out of his own soul? behold, now you've turned into a man and are choosing your path for yourself. i wish that you would go it up to its end, oh my friend, that you shall find salvation!" govinda, not completely understanding it yet, repeated his question in an impatient tone: "speak up, i beg you, my dear! tell me, since it could not be any other way, that you also, my learned friend, will take your refuge with the exalted buddha!" siddhartha placed his hand on govinda's shoulder: "you failed to hear my good wish for you, oh govinda. i'm repeating it: i wish that you would go this path up to its end, that you shall find salvation!" in this moment, govinda realized that his friend had left him, and he started to weep. "siddhartha!" he exclaimed lamentingly. siddhartha kindly spoke to him: "don't forget, govinda, that you are now one of the samanas of the buddha! you have renounced your home and your parents, renounced your birth and possessions, renounced your free will, renounced all friendship. this is what the teachings require, this is what the exalted one wants. this is what you wanted for yourself. tomorrow, oh govinda, i'll leave you." for a long time, the friends continued walking in the grove; for a long time, they lay there and found no sleep. and over and over again, govinda urged his friend, he should tell him why he would not want to seek refuge in gotama's teachings, what fault he would find in these teachings. but siddhartha turned him away every time and said: "be content, govinda! very good are the teachings of the exalted one, how could i find a fault in them?" very early in the morning, a follower of buddha, one of his oldest monks, went through the garden and called all those to him who had as novices taken their refuge in the teachings, to dress them up in the yellow robe and to instruct them in the first teachings and duties of their position. then govinda broke loose, embraced once again his childhood friend and left with the novices. but siddhartha walked through the grove, lost in thought. then he happened to meet gotama, the exalted one, and when he greeted him with respect and the buddha's glance was so full of kindness and calm, the young man summoned his courage and asked the venerable one for the permission to talk to him. silently the exalted one nodded his approval. quoth siddhartha: "yesterday, oh exalted one, i had been privileged to hear your wondrous teachings. together with my friend, i had come from afar, to hear your teachings. and now my friend is going to stay with your people, he has taken his refuge with you. but i will again start on my pilgrimage." "as you please," the venerable one spoke politely. "too bold is my speech," siddhartha continued, "but i do not want to leave the exalted one without having honestly told him my thoughts. does it please the venerable one to listen to me for one moment longer?" silently, the buddha nodded his approval. quoth siddhartha: "one thing, oh most venerable one, i have admired in your teachings most of all. everything in your teachings is perfectly clear, is proven; you are presenting the world as a perfect chain, a chain which is never and nowhere broken, an eternal chain the links of which are causes and effects. never before, this has been seen so clearly; never before, this has been presented so irrefutably; truly, the heart of every brahman has to beat stronger with love, once he has seen the world through your teachings perfectly connected, without gaps, clear as a crystal, not depending on chance, not depending on gods. whether it may be good or bad, whether living according to it would be suffering or joy, i do not wish to discuss, possibly this is not essential--but the uniformity of the world, that everything which happens is connected, that the great and the small things are all encompassed by the same forces of time, by the same law of causes, of coming into being and of dying, this is what shines brightly out of your exalted teachings, oh perfected one. but according to your very own teachings, this unity and necessary sequence of all things is nevertheless broken in one place, through a small gap, this world of unity is invaded by something alien, something new, something which had not been there before, and which cannot be demonstrated and cannot be proven: these are your teachings of overcoming the world, of salvation. but with this small gap, with this small breach, the entire eternal and uniform law of the world is breaking apart again and becomes void. please forgive me for expressing this objection." quietly, gotama had listened to him, unmoved. now he spoke, the perfected one, with his kind, with his polite and clear voice: "you've heard the teachings, oh son of a brahman, and good for you that you've thought about it thus deeply. you've found a gap in it, an error. you should think about this further. but be warned, oh seeker of knowledge, of the thicket of opinions and of arguing about words. there is nothing to opinions, they may be beautiful or ugly, smart or foolish, everyone can support them or discard them. but the teachings, you've heard from me, are no opinion, and their goal is not to explain the world to those who seek knowledge. they have a different goal; their goal is salvation from suffering. this is what gotama teaches, nothing else." "i wish that you, oh exalted one, would not be angry with me," said the young man. "i have not spoken to you like this to argue with you, to argue about words. you are truly right, there is little to opinions. but let me say this one more thing: i have not doubted in you for a single moment. i have not doubted for a single moment that you are buddha, that you have reached the goal, the highest goal towards which so many thousands of brahmans and sons of brahmans are on their way. you have found salvation from death. it has come to you in the course of your own search, on your own path, through thoughts, through meditation, through realizations, through enlightenment. it has not come to you by means of teachings! and--thus is my thought, oh exalted one,--nobody will obtain salvation by means of teachings! you will not be able to convey and say to anybody, oh venerable one, in words and through teachings what has happened to you in the hour of enlightenment! the teachings of the enlightened buddha contain much, it teaches many to live righteously, to avoid evil. but there is one thing which these so clear, these so venerable teachings do not contain: they do not contain the mystery of what the exalted one has experienced for himself, he alone among hundreds of thousands. this is what i have thought and realized, when i have heard the teachings. this is why i am continuing my travels--not to seek other, better teachings, for i know there are none, but to depart from all teachings and all teachers and to reach my goal by myself or to die. but often, i'll think of this day, oh exalted one, and of this hour, when my eyes beheld a holy man." the buddha's eyes quietly looked to the ground; quietly, in perfect equanimity his inscrutable face was smiling. "i wish," the venerable one spoke slowly, "that your thoughts shall not be in error, that you shall reach the goal! but tell me: have you seen the multitude of my samanas, my many brothers, who have taken refuge in the teachings? and do you believe, oh stranger, oh samana, do you believe that it would be better for them all the abandon the teachings and to return into the life the world and of desires?" "far is such a thought from my mind," exclaimed siddhartha. "i wish that they shall all stay with the teachings, that they shall reach their goal! it is not my place to judge another person's life. only for myself, for myself alone, i must decide, i must chose, i must refuse. salvation from the self is what we samanas search for, oh exalted one. if i merely were one of your disciples, oh venerable one, i'd fear that it might happen to me that only seemingly, only deceptively my self would be calm and be redeemed, but that in truth it would live on and grow, for then i had replaced my self with the teachings, my duty to follow you, my love for you, and the community of the monks!" with half of a smile, with an unwavering openness and kindness, gotama looked into the stranger's eyes and bid him to leave with a hardly noticeable gesture. "you are wise, oh samana.", the venerable one spoke. "you know how to talk wisely, my friend. be aware of too much wisdom!" the buddha turned away, and his glance and half of a smile remained forever etched in siddhartha's memory. i have never before seen a person glance and smile, sit and walk this way, he thought; truly, i wish to be able to glance and smile, sit and walk this way, too, thus free, thus venerable, thus concealed, thus open, thus child-like and mysterious. truly, only a person who has succeeded in reaching the innermost part of his self would glance and walk this way. well so, i also will seek to reach the innermost part of my self. i saw a man, siddhartha thought, a single man, before whom i would have to lower my glance. i do not want to lower my glance before any other, not before any other. no teachings will entice me any more, since this man's teachings have not enticed me. i am deprived by the buddha, thought siddhartha, i am deprived, and even more he has given to me. he has deprived me of my friend, the one who had believed in me and now believes in him, who had been my shadow and is now gotama's shadow. but he has given me siddhartha, myself. awakening when siddhartha left the grove, where the buddha, the perfected one, stayed behind, where govinda stayed behind, then he felt that in this grove his past life also stayed behind and parted from him. he pondered about this sensation, which filled him completely, as he was slowly walking along. he pondered deeply, like diving into a deep water he let himself sink down to the ground of the sensation, down to the place where the causes lie, because to identify the causes, so it seemed to him, is the very essence of thinking, and by this alone sensations turn into realizations and are not lost, but become entities and start to emit like rays of light what is inside of them. slowly walking along, siddhartha pondered. he realized that he was no youth any more, but had turned into a man. he realized that one thing had left him, as a snake is left by its old skin, that one thing no longer existed in him, which had accompanied him throughout his youth and used to be a part of him: the wish to have teachers and to listen to teachings. he had also left the last teacher who had appeared on his path, even him, the highest and wisest teacher, the most holy one, buddha, he had left him, had to part with him, was not able to accept his teachings. slower, he walked along in his thoughts and asked himself: "but what is this, what you have sought to learn from teachings and from teachers, and what they, who have taught you much, were still unable to teach you?" and he found: "it was the self, the purpose and essence of which i sought to learn. it was the self, i wanted to free myself from, which i sought to overcome. but i was not able to overcome it, could only deceive it, could only flee from it, only hide from it. truly, no thing in this world has kept my thoughts thus busy, as this my very own self, this mystery of me being alive, of me being one and being separated and isolated from all others, of me being siddhartha! and there is no thing in this world i know less about than about me, about siddhartha!" having been pondering while slowly walking along, he now stopped as these thoughts caught hold of him, and right away another thought sprang forth from these, a new thought, which was: "that i know nothing about myself, that siddhartha has remained thus alien and unknown to me, stems from one cause, a single cause: i was afraid of myself, i was fleeing from myself! i searched atman, i searched brahman, i was willing to dissect my self and peel off all of its layers, to find the core of all peels in its unknown interior, the atman, life, the divine part, the ultimate part. but i have lost myself in the process." siddhartha opened his eyes and looked around, a smile filled his face and a feeling of awakening from long dreams flowed through him from his head down to his toes. and it was not long before he walked again, walked quickly like a man who knows what he has got to do. "oh," he thought, taking a deep breath, "now i would not let siddhartha escape from me again! no longer, i want to begin my thoughts and my life with atman and with the suffering of the world. i do not want to kill and dissect myself any longer, to find a secret behind the ruins. neither yoga-veda shall teach me any more, nor atharva-veda, nor the ascetics, nor any kind of teachings. i want to learn from myself, want to be my student, want to get to know myself, the secret of siddhartha." he looked around, as if he was seeing the world for the first time. beautiful was the world, colourful was the world, strange and mysterious was the world! here was blue, here was yellow, here was green, the sky and the river flowed, the forest and the mountains were rigid, all of it was beautiful, all of it was mysterious and magical, and in its midst was he, siddhartha, the awakening one, on the path to himself. all of this, all this yellow and blue, river and forest, entered siddhartha for the first time through the eyes, was no longer a spell of mara, was no longer the veil of maya, was no longer a pointless and coincidental diversity of mere appearances, despicable to the deeply thinking brahman, who scorns diversity, who seeks unity. blue was blue, river was river, and if also in the blue and the river, in siddhartha, the singular and divine lived hidden, so it was still that very divinity's way and purpose, to be here yellow, here blue, there sky, there forest, and here siddhartha. the purpose and the essential properties were not somewhere behind the things, they were in them, in everything. "how deaf and stupid have i been!" he thought, walking swiftly along. "when someone reads a text, wants to discover its meaning, he will not scorn the symbols and letters and call them deceptions, coincidence, and worthless hull, but he will read them, he will study and love them, letter by letter. but i, who wanted to read the book of the world and the book of my own being, i have, for the sake of a meaning i had anticipated before i read, scorned the symbols and letters, i called the visible world a deception, called my eyes and my tongue coincidental and worthless forms without substance. no, this is over, i have awakened, i have indeed awakened and have not been born before this very day." in thinking these thoughts, siddhartha stopped once again, suddenly, as if there was a snake lying in front of him on the path. because suddenly, he had also become aware of this: he, who was indeed like someone who had just woken up or like a new-born baby, he had to start his life anew and start again at the very beginning. when he had left in this very morning from the grove jetavana, the grove of that exalted one, already awakening, already on the path towards himself, he had every intention, regarded as natural and took for granted, that he, after years as an ascetic, would return to his home and his father. but now, only in this moment, when he stopped as if a snake was lying on his path, he also awoke to this realization: "but i am no longer the one i was, i am no ascetic any more, i am not a priest any more, i am no brahman any more. whatever should i do at home and at my father's place? study? make offerings? practise meditation? but all this is over, all of this is no longer alongside my path." motionless, siddhartha remained standing there, and for the time of one moment and breath, his heart felt cold, he felt a cold in his chest, as a small animal, a bird or a rabbit, would when seeing how alone he was. for many years, he had been without home and had felt nothing. now, he felt it. still, even in the deepest meditation, he had been his father's son, had been a brahman, of a high caste, a cleric. now, he was nothing but siddhartha, the awoken one, nothing else was left. deeply, he inhaled, and for a moment, he felt cold and shivered. nobody was thus alone as he was. there was no nobleman who did not belong to the noblemen, no worker that did not belong to the workers, and found refuge with them, shared their life, spoke their language. no brahman, who would not be regarded as brahmans and lived with them, no ascetic who would not find his refuge in the caste of the samanas, and even the most forlorn hermit in the forest was not just one and alone, he was also surrounded by a place he belonged to, he also belonged to a caste, in which he was at home. govinda had become a monk, and a thousand monks were his brothers, wore the same robe as he, believed in his faith, spoke his language. but he, siddhartha, where did he belong to? with whom would he share his life? whose language would he speak? out of this moment, when the world melted away all around him, when he stood alone like a star in the sky, out of this moment of a cold and despair, siddhartha emerged, more a self than before, more firmly concentrated. he felt: this had been the last tremor of the awakening, the last struggle of this birth. and it was not long until he walked again in long strides, started to proceed swiftly and impatiently, heading no longer for home, no longer to his father, no longer back. second part dedicated to wilhelm gundert, my cousin in japan kamala siddhartha learned something new on every step of his path, for the world was transformed, and his heart was enchanted. he saw the sun rising over the mountains with their forests and setting over the distant beach with its palm-trees. at night, he saw the stars in the sky in their fixed positions and the crescent of the moon floating like a boat in the blue. he saw trees, stars, animals, clouds, rainbows, rocks, herbs, flowers, stream and river, the glistening dew in the bushes in the morning, distant high mountains which were blue and pale, birds sang and bees, wind silverishly blew through the rice-field. all of this, a thousand-fold and colourful, had always been there, always the sun and the moon had shone, always rivers had roared and bees had buzzed, but in former times all of this had been nothing more to siddhartha than a fleeting, deceptive veil before his eyes, looked upon in distrust, destined to be penetrated and destroyed by thought, since it was not the essential existence, since this essence lay beyond, on the other side of, the visible. but now, his liberated eyes stayed on this side, he saw and became aware of the visible, sought to be at home in this world, did not search for the true essence, did not aim at a world beyond. beautiful was this world, looking at it thus, without searching, thus simply, thus childlike. beautiful were the moon and the stars, beautiful was the stream and the banks, the forest and the rocks, the goat and the gold-beetle, the flower and the butterfly. beautiful and lovely it was, thus to walk through the world, thus childlike, thus awoken, thus open to what is near, thus without distrust. differently the sun burnt the head, differently the shade of the forest cooled him down, differently the stream and the cistern, the pumpkin and the banana tasted. short were the days, short the nights, every hour sped swiftly away like a sail on the sea, and under the sail was a ship full of treasures, full of joy. siddhartha saw a group of apes moving through the high canopy of the forest, high in the branches, and heard their savage, greedy song. siddhartha saw a male sheep following a female one and mating with her. in a lake of reeds, he saw the pike hungrily hunting for its dinner; propelling themselves away from it, in fear, wiggling and sparkling, the young fish jumped in droves out of the water; the scent of strength and passion came forcefully out of the hasty eddies of the water, which the pike stirred up, impetuously hunting. all of this had always existed, and he had not seen it; he had not been with it. now he was with it, he was part of it. light and shadow ran through his eyes, stars and moon ran through his heart. on the way, siddhartha also remembered everything he had experienced in the garden jetavana, the teaching he had heard there, the divine buddha, the farewell from govinda, the conversation with the exalted one. again he remembered his own words, he had spoken to the exalted one, every word, and with astonishment he became aware of the fact that there he had said things which he had not really known yet at this time. what he had said to gotama: his, the buddha's, treasure and secret was not the teachings, but the unexpressable and not teachable, which he had experienced in the hour of his enlightenment--it was nothing but this very thing which he had now gone to experience, what he now began to experience. now, he had to experience his self. it is true that he had already known for a long time that his self was atman, in its essence bearing the same eternal characteristics as brahman. but never, he had really found this self, because he had wanted to capture it in the net of thought. with the body definitely not being the self, and not the spectacle of the senses, so it also was not the thought, not the rational mind, not the learned wisdom, not the learned ability to draw conclusions and to develop previous thoughts in to new ones. no, this world of thought was also still on this side, and nothing could be achieved by killing the random self of the senses, if the random self of thoughts and learned knowledge was fattened on the other hand. both, the thoughts as well as the senses, were pretty things, the ultimate meaning was hidden behind both of them, both had to be listened to, both had to be played with, both neither had to be scorned nor overestimated, from both the secret voices of the innermost truth had to be attentively perceived. he wanted to strive for nothing, except for what the voice commanded him to strive for, dwell on nothing, except where the voice would advise him to do so. why had gotama, at that time, in the hour of all hours, sat down under the bo-tree, where the enlightenment hit him? he had heard a voice, a voice in his own heart, which had commanded him to seek rest under this tree, and he had neither preferred self-castigation, offerings, ablutions, nor prayer, neither food nor drink, neither sleep nor dream, he had obeyed the voice. to obey like this, not to an external command, only to the voice, to be ready like this, this was good, this was necessary, nothing else was necessary. in the night when he slept in the straw hut of a ferryman by the river, siddhartha had a dream: govinda was standing in front of him, dressed in the yellow robe of an ascetic. sad was how govinda looked like, sadly he asked: why have you forsaken me? at this, he embraced govinda, wrapped his arms around him, and as he was pulling him close to his chest and kissed him, it was not govinda any more, but a woman, and a full breast popped out of the woman's dress, at which siddhartha lay and drank, sweetly and strongly tasted the milk from this breast. it tasted of woman and man, of sun and forest, of animal and flower, of every fruit, of every joyful desire. it intoxicated him and rendered him unconscious.--when siddhartha woke up, the pale river shimmered through the door of the hut, and in the forest, a dark call of an owl resounded deeply and pleasantly. when the day began, siddhartha asked his host, the ferryman, to get him across the river. the ferryman got him across the river on his bamboo-raft, the wide water shimmered reddishly in the light of the morning. "this is a beautiful river," he said to his companion. "yes," said the ferryman, "a very beautiful river, i love it more than anything. often i have listened to it, often i have looked into its eyes, and always i have learned from it. much can be learned from a river." "i thank you, my benefactor," spoke siddhartha, disembarking on the other side of the river. "i have no gift i could give you for your hospitality, my dear, and also no payment for your work. i am a man without a home, a son of a brahman and a samana." "i did see it," spoke the ferryman, "and i haven't expected any payment from you and no gift which would be the custom for guests to bear. you will give me the gift another time." "do you think so?" asked siddhartha amusedly. "surely. this too, i have learned from the river: everything is coming back! you too, samana, will come back. now farewell! let your friendship be my reward. commemorate me, when you'll make offerings to the gods." smiling, they parted. smiling, siddhartha was happy about the friendship and the kindness of the ferryman. "he is like govinda," he thought with a smile, "all i meet on my path are like govinda. all are thankful, though they are the ones who would have a right to receive thanks. all are submissive, all would like to be friends, like to obey, think little. like children are all people." at about noon, he came through a village. in front of the mud cottages, children were rolling about in the street, were playing with pumpkin-seeds and sea-shells, screamed and wrestled, but they all timidly fled from the unknown samana. in the end of the village, the path led through a stream, and by the side of the stream, a young woman was kneeling and washing clothes. when siddhartha greeted her, she lifted her head and looked up to him with a smile, so that he saw the white in her eyes glistening. he called out a blessing to her, as it is the custom among travellers, and asked how far he still had to go to reach the large city. then she got up and came to him, beautifully her wet mouth was shimmering in her young face. she exchanged humorous banter with him, asked whether he had eaten already, and whether it was true that the samanas slept alone in the forest at night and were not allowed to have any women with them. while talking, she put her left foot on his right one and made a movement as a woman does who would want to initiate that kind of sexual pleasure with a man, which the textbooks call "climbing a tree". siddhartha felt his blood heating up, and since in this moment he had to think of his dream again, he bend slightly down to the woman and kissed with his lips the brown nipple of her breast. looking up, he saw her face smiling full of lust and her eyes, with contracted pupils, begging with desire. siddhartha also felt desire and felt the source of his sexuality moving; but since he had never touched a woman before, he hesitated for a moment, while his hands were already prepared to reach out for her. and in this moment he heard, shuddering with awe, the voice of his innermost self, and this voice said no. then, all charms disappeared from the young woman's smiling face, he no longer saw anything else but the damp glance of a female animal in heat. politely, he petted her cheek, turned away from her and disappeared away from the disappointed woman with light steps into the bamboo-wood. on this day, he reached the large city before the evening, and was happy, for he felt the need to be among people. for a long time, he had lived in the forests, and the straw hut of the ferryman, in which he had slept that night, had been the first roof for a long time he has had over his head. before the city, in a beautifully fenced grove, the traveller came across a small group of servants, both male and female, carrying baskets. in their midst, carried by four servants in an ornamental sedan-chair, sat a woman, the mistress, on red pillows under a colourful canopy. siddhartha stopped at the entrance to the pleasure-garden and watched the parade, saw the servants, the maids, the baskets, saw the sedan-chair and saw the lady in it. under black hair, which made to tower high on her head, he saw a very fair, very delicate, very smart face, a brightly red mouth, like a freshly cracked fig, eyebrows which were well tended and painted in a high arch, smart and watchful dark eyes, a clear, tall neck rising from a green and golden garment, resting fair hands, long and thin, with wide golden bracelets over the wrists. siddhartha saw how beautiful she was, and his heart rejoiced. he bowed deeply, when the sedan-chair came closer, and straightening up again, he looked at the fair, charming face, read for a moment in the smart eyes with the high arcs above, breathed in a slight fragrant, he did not know. with a smile, the beautiful women nodded for a moment and disappeared into the grove, and then the servant as well. thus i am entering this city, siddhartha thought, with a charming omen. he instantly felt drawn into the grove, but he thought about it, and only now he became aware of how the servants and maids had looked at him at the entrance, how despicable, how distrustful, how rejecting. i am still a samana, he thought, i am still an ascetic and beggar. i must not remain like this, i will not be able to enter the grove like this. and he laughed. the next person who came along this path he asked about the grove and for the name of the woman, and was told that this was the grove of kamala, the famous courtesan, and that, aside from the grove, she owned a house in the city. then, he entered the city. now he had a goal. pursuing his goal, he allowed the city to suck him in, drifted through the flow of the streets, stood still on the squares, rested on the stairs of stone by the river. when the evening came, he made friends with barber's assistant, whom he had seen working in the shade of an arch in a building, whom he found again praying in a temple of vishnu, whom he told about stories of vishnu and the lakshmi. among the boats by the river, he slept this night, and early in the morning, before the first customers came into his shop, he had the barber's assistant shave his beard and cut his hair, comb his hair and anoint it with fine oil. then he went to take his bath in the river. when late in the afternoon, beautiful kamala approached her grove in her sedan-chair, siddhartha was standing at the entrance, made a bow and received the courtesan's greeting. but that servant who walked at the very end of her train he motioned to him and asked him to inform his mistress that a young brahman would wish to talk to her. after a while, the servant returned, asked him, who had been waiting, to follow him conducted him, who was following him, without a word into a pavilion, where kamala was lying on a couch, and left him alone with her. "weren't you already standing out there yesterday, greeting me?" asked kamala. "it's true that i've already seen and greeted you yesterday." "but didn't you yesterday wear a beard, and long hair, and dust in your hair?" "you have observed well, you have seen everything. you have seen siddhartha, the son of a brahman, who has left his home to become a samana, and who has been a samana for three years. but now, i have left that path and came into this city, and the first one i met, even before i had entered the city, was you. to say this, i have come to you, oh kamala! you are the first woman whom siddhartha is not addressing with his eyes turned to the ground. never again i want to turn my eyes to the ground, when i'm coming across a beautiful woman." kamala smiled and played with her fan of peacocks' feathers. and asked: "and only to tell me this, siddhartha has come to me?" "to tell you this and to thank you for being so beautiful. and if it doesn't displease you, kamala, i would like to ask you to be my friend and teacher, for i know nothing yet of that art which you have mastered in the highest degree." at this, kamala laughed aloud. "never before this has happened to me, my friend, that a samana from the forest came to me and wanted to learn from me! never before this has happened to me, that a samana came to me with long hair and an old, torn loin-cloth! many young men come to me, and there are also sons of brahmans among them, but they come in beautiful clothes, they come in fine shoes, they have perfume in their hair and money in their pouches. this is, oh samana, how the young men are like who come to me." quoth siddhartha: "already i am starting to learn from you. even yesterday, i was already learning. i have already taken off my beard, have combed the hair, have oil in my hair. there is little which is still missing in me, oh excellent one: fine clothes, fine shoes, money in my pouch. you shall know, siddhartha has set harder goals for himself than such trifles, and he has reached them. how shouldn't i reach that goal, which i have set for myself yesterday: to be your friend and to learn the joys of love from you! you'll see that i'll learn quickly, kamala, i have already learned harder things than what you're supposed to teach me. and now let's get to it: you aren't satisfied with siddhartha as he is, with oil in his hair, but without clothes, without shoes, without money?" laughing, kamala exclaimed: "no, my dear, he doesn't satisfy me yet. clothes are what he must have, pretty clothes, and shoes, pretty shoes, and lots of money in his pouch, and gifts for kamala. do you know it now, samana from the forest? did you mark my words?" "yes, i have marked your words," siddhartha exclaimed. "how should i not mark words which are coming from such a mouth! your mouth is like a freshly cracked fig, kamala. my mouth is red and fresh as well, it will be a suitable match for yours, you'll see.--but tell me, beautiful kamala, aren't you at all afraid of the samana from the forest, who has come to learn how to make love?" "whatever for should i be afraid of a samana, a stupid samana from the forest, who is coming from the jackals and doesn't even know yet what women are?" "oh, he's strong, the samana, and he isn't afraid of anything. he could force you, beautiful girl. he could kidnap you. he could hurt you." "no, samana, i am not afraid of this. did any samana or brahman ever fear, someone might come and grab him and steal his learning, and his religious devotion, and his depth of thought? no, for they are his very own, and he would only give away from those whatever he is willing to give and to whomever he is willing to give. like this it is, precisely like this it is also with kamala and with the pleasures of love. beautiful and red is kamala's mouth, but just try to kiss it against kamala's will, and you will not obtain a single drop of sweetness from it, which knows how to give so many sweet things! you are learning easily, siddhartha, thus you should also learn this: love can be obtained by begging, buying, receiving it as a gift, finding it in the street, but it cannot be stolen. in this, you have come up with the wrong path. no, it would be a pity, if a pretty young man like you would want to tackle it in such a wrong manner." siddhartha bowed with a smile. "it would be a pity, kamala, you are so right! it would be such a great pity. no, i shall not lose a single drop of sweetness from your mouth, nor you from mine! so it is settled: siddhartha will return, once he'll have what he still lacks: clothes, shoes, money. but speak, lovely kamala, couldn't you still give me one small advice?" "an advice? why not? who wouldn't like to give an advice to a poor, ignorant samana, who is coming from the jackals of the forest?" "dear kamala, thus advise me where i should go to, that i'll find these three things most quickly?" "friend, many would like to know this. you must do what you've learned and ask for money, clothes, and shoes in return. there is no other way for a poor man to obtain money. what might you be able to do?" "i can think. i can wait. i can fast." "nothing else?" "nothing. but yes, i can also write poetry. would you like to give me a kiss for a poem?" "i would like to, if i'll like your poem. what would be its title?" siddhartha spoke, after he had thought about it for a moment, these verses: into her shady grove stepped the pretty kamala, at the grove's entrance stood the brown samana. deeply, seeing the lotus's blossom, bowed that man, and smiling kamala thanked. more lovely, thought the young man, than offerings for gods, more lovely is offering to pretty kamala. kamala loudly clapped her hands, so that the golden bracelets clanged. "beautiful are your verses, oh brown samana, and truly, i'm losing nothing when i'm giving you a kiss for them." she beckoned him with her eyes, he tilted his head so that his face touched hers and placed his mouth on that mouth which was like a freshly cracked fig. for a long time, kamala kissed him, and with a deep astonishment siddhartha felt how she taught him, how wise she was, how she controlled him, rejected him, lured him, and how after this first one there was to be a long, a well ordered, well tested sequence of kisses, everyone different from the others, he was still to receive. breathing deeply, he remained standing where he was, and was in this moment astonished like a child about the cornucopia of knowledge and things worth learning, which revealed itself before his eyes. "very beautiful are your verses," exclaimed kamala, "if i was rich, i would give you pieces of gold for them. but it will be difficult for you to earn thus much money with verses as you need. for you need a lot of money, if you want to be kamala's friend." "the way you're able to kiss, kamala!" stammered siddhartha. "yes, this i am able to do, therefore i do not lack clothes, shoes, bracelets, and all beautiful things. but what will become of you? aren't you able to do anything else but thinking, fasting, making poetry?" "i also know the sacrificial songs," said siddhartha, "but i do not want to sing them any more. i also know magic spells, but i do not want to speak them any more. i have read the scriptures--" "stop," kamala interrupted him. "you're able to read? and write?" "certainly, i can do this. many people can do this." "most people can't. i also can't do it. it is very good that you're able to read and write, very good. you will also still find use for the magic spells." in this moment, a maid came running in and whispered a message into her mistress's ear. "there's a visitor for me," exclaimed kamala. "hurry and get yourself away, siddhartha, nobody may see you in here, remember this! tomorrow, i'll see you again." but to the maid she gave the order to give the pious brahman white upper garments. without fully understanding what was happening to him, siddhartha found himself being dragged away by the maid, brought into a garden-house avoiding the direct path, being given upper garments as a gift, led into the bushes, and urgently admonished to get himself out of the grove as soon as possible without being seen. contently, he did as he had been told. being accustomed to the forest, he managed to get out of the grove and over the hedge without making a sound. contently, he returned to the city, carrying the rolled up garments under his arm. at the inn, where travellers stay, he positioned himself by the door, without words he asked for food, without a word he accepted a piece of rice-cake. perhaps as soon as tomorrow, he thought, i will ask no one for food any more. suddenly, pride flared up in him. he was no samana any more, it was no longer becoming to him to beg. he gave the rice-cake to a dog and remained without food. "simple is the life which people lead in this world here," thought siddhartha. "it presents no difficulties. everything was difficult, toilsome, and ultimately hopeless, when i was still a samana. now, everything is easy, easy like that lessons in kissing, which kamala is giving me. i need clothes and money, nothing else; this a small, near goals, they won't make a person lose any sleep." he had already discovered kamala's house in the city long before, there he turned up the following day. "things are working out well," she called out to him. "they are expecting you at kamaswami's, he is the richest merchant of the city. if he'll like you, he'll accept you into his service. be smart, brown samana. i had others tell him about you. be polite towards him, he is very powerful. but don't be too modest! i do not want you to become his servant, you shall become his equal, or else i won't be satisfied with you. kamaswami is starting to get old and lazy. if he'll like you, he'll entrust you with a lot." siddhartha thanked her and laughed, and when she found out that he had not eaten anything yesterday and today, she sent for bread and fruits and treated him to it. "you've been lucky," she said when they parted, "i'm opening one door after another for you. how come? do you have a spell?" siddhartha said: "yesterday, i told you i knew how to think, to wait, and to fast, but you thought this was of no use. but it is useful for many things, kamala, you'll see. you'll see that the stupid samanas are learning and able to do many pretty things in the forest, which the likes of you aren't capable of. the day before yesterday, i was still a shaggy beggar, as soon as yesterday i have kissed kamala, and soon i'll be a merchant and have money and all those things you insist upon." "well yes," she admitted. "but where would you be without me? what would you be, if kamala wasn't helping you?" "dear kamala," said siddhartha and straightened up to his full height, "when i came to you into your grove, i did the first step. it was my resolution to learn love from this most beautiful woman. from that moment on when i had made this resolution, i also knew that i would carry it out. i knew that you would help me, at your first glance at the entrance of the grove i already knew it." "but what if i hadn't been willing?" "you were willing. look, kamala: when you throw a rock into the water, it will speed on the fastest course to the bottom of the water. this is how it is when siddhartha has a goal, a resolution. siddhartha does nothing, he waits, he thinks, he fasts, but he passes through the things of the world like a rock through water, without doing anything, without stirring; he is drawn, he lets himself fall. his goal attracts him, because he doesn't let anything enter his soul which might oppose the goal. this is what siddhartha has learned among the samanas. this is what fools call magic and of which they think it would be effected by means of the daemons. nothing is effected by daemons, there are no daemons. everyone can perform magic, everyone can reach his goals, if he is able to think, if he is able to wait, if he is able to fast." kamala listened to him. she loved his voice, she loved the look from his eyes. "perhaps it is so," she said quietly, "as you say, friend. but perhaps it is also like this: that siddhartha is a handsome man, that his glance pleases the women, that therefore good fortune is coming towards him." with one kiss, siddhartha bid his farewell. "i wish that it should be this way, my teacher; that my glance shall please you, that always good fortune shall come to me out of your direction!" with the childlike people siddhartha went to kamaswami the merchant, he was directed into a rich house, servants led him between precious carpets into a chamber, where he awaited the master of the house. kamaswami entered, a swiftly, smoothly moving man with very gray hair, with very intelligent, cautious eyes, with a greedy mouth. politely, the host and the guest greeted one another. "i have been told," the merchant began, "that you were a brahman, a learned man, but that you seek to be in the service of a merchant. might you have become destitute, brahman, so that you seek to serve?" "no," said siddhartha, "i have not become destitute and have never been destitute. you should know that i'm coming from the samanas, with whom i have lived for a long time." "if you're coming from the samanas, how could you be anything but destitute? aren't the samanas entirely without possessions?" "i am without possessions," said siddhartha, "if this is what you mean. surely, i am without possessions. but i am so voluntarily, and therefore i am not destitute." "but what are you planning to live of, being without possessions?" "i haven't thought of this yet, sir. for more than three years, i have been without possessions, and have never thought about of what i should live." "so you've lived of the possessions of others." "presumable this is how it is. after all, a merchant also lives of what other people own." "well said. but he wouldn't take anything from another person for nothing; he would give his merchandise in return." "so it seems to be indeed. everyone takes, everyone gives, such is life." "but if you don't mind me asking: being without possessions, what would you like to give?" "everyone gives what he has. the warrior gives strength, the merchant gives merchandise, the teacher teachings, the farmer rice, the fisher fish." "yes indeed. and what is it now what you've got to give? what is it that you've learned, what you're able to do?" "i can think. i can wait. i can fast." "that's everything?" "i believe, that's everything!" "and what's the use of that? for example, the fasting--what is it good for?" "it is very good, sir. when a person has nothing to eat, fasting is the smartest thing he could do. when, for example, siddhartha hadn't learned to fast, he would have to accept any kind of service before this day is up, whether it may be with you or wherever, because hunger would force him to do so. but like this, siddhartha can wait calmly, he knows no impatience, he knows no emergency, for a long time he can allow hunger to besiege him and can laugh about it. this, sir, is what fasting is good for." "you're right, samana. wait for a moment." kamaswami left the room and returned with a scroll, which he handed to his guest while asking: "can you read this?" siddhartha looked at the scroll, on which a sales-contract had been written down, and began to read out its contents. "excellent," said kamaswami. "and would you write something for me on this piece of paper?" he handed him a piece of paper and a pen, and siddhartha wrote and returned the paper. kamaswami read: "writing is good, thinking is better. being smart is good, being patient is better." "it is excellent how you're able to write," the merchant praised him. "many a thing we will still have to discuss with one another. for today, i'm asking you to be my guest and to live in this house." siddhartha thanked and accepted, and lived in the dealers house from now on. clothes were brought to him, and shoes, and every day, a servant prepared a bath for him. twice a day, a plentiful meal was served, but siddhartha only ate once a day, and ate neither meat nor did he drink wine. kamaswami told him about his trade, showed him the merchandise and storage-rooms, showed him calculations. siddhartha got to know many new things, he heard a lot and spoke little. and thinking of kamala's words, he was never subservient to the merchant, forced him to treat him as an equal, yes even more than an equal. kamaswami conducted his business with care and often with passion, but siddhartha looked upon all of this as if it was a game, the rules of which he tried hard to learn precisely, but the contents of which did not touch his heart. he was not in kamaswami's house for long, when he already took part in his landlords business. but daily, at the hour appointed by her, he visited beautiful kamala, wearing pretty clothes, fine shoes, and soon he brought her gifts as well. much he learned from her red, smart mouth. much he learned from her tender, supple hand. him, who was, regarding love, still a boy and had a tendency to plunge blindly and insatiably into lust like into a bottomless pit, him she taught, thoroughly starting with the basics, about that school of thought which teaches that pleasure cannot be taken without giving pleasure, and that every gesture, every caress, every touch, every look, every spot of the body, however small it was, had its secret, which would bring happiness to those who know about it and unleash it. she taught him, that lovers must not part from one another after celebrating love, without one admiring the other, without being just as defeated as they have been victorious, so that with none of them should start feeling fed up or bored and get that evil feeling of having abused or having been abused. wonderful hours he spent with the beautiful and smart artist, became her student, her lover, her friend. here with kamala was the worth and purpose of his present life, nt with the business of kamaswami. the merchant passed to duties of writing important letters and contracts on to him and got into the habit of discussing all important affairs with him. he soon saw that siddhartha knew little about rice and wool, shipping and trade, but that he acted in a fortunate manner, and that siddhartha surpassed him, the merchant, in calmness and equanimity, and in the art of listening and deeply understanding previously unknown people. "this brahman," he said to a friend, "is no proper merchant and will never be one, there is never any passion in his soul when he conducts our business. but he has that mysterious quality of those people to whom success comes all by itself, whether this may be a good star of his birth, magic, or something he has learned among samanas. he always seems to be merely playing with out business-affairs, they never fully become a part of him, they never rule over him, he is never afraid of failure, he is never upset by a loss." the friend advised the merchant: "give him from the business he conducts for you a third of the profits, but let him also be liable for the same amount of the losses, when there is a loss. then, he'll become more zealous." kamaswami followed the advice. but siddhartha cared little about this. when he made a profit, he accepted it with equanimity; when he made losses, he laughed and said: "well, look at this, so this one turned out badly!" it seemed indeed, as if he did not care about the business. at one time, he travelled to a village to buy a large harvest of rice there. but when he got there, the rice had already been sold to another merchant. nevertheless, siddhartha stayed for several days in that village, treated the farmers for a drink, gave copper-coins to their children, joined in the celebration of a wedding, and returned extremely satisfied from his trip. kamaswami held against him that he had not turned back right away, that he had wasted time and money. siddhartha answered: "stop scolding, dear friend! nothing was ever achieved by scolding. if a loss has occurred, let me bear that loss. i am very satisfied with this trip. i have gotten to know many kinds of people, a brahman has become my friend, children have sat on my knees, farmers have shown me their fields, nobody knew that i was a merchant." "that's all very nice," exclaimed kamaswami indignantly, "but in fact, you are a merchant after all, one ought to think! or might you have only travelled for your amusement?" "surely," siddhartha laughed, "surely i have travelled for my amusement. for what else? i have gotten to know people and places, i have received kindness and trust, i have found friendship. look, my dear, if i had been kamaswami, i would have travelled back, being annoyed and in a hurry, as soon as i had seen that my purchase had been rendered impossible, and time and money would indeed have been lost. but like this, i've had a few good days, i've learned, had joy, i've neither harmed myself nor others by annoyance and hastiness. and if i'll ever return there again, perhaps to buy an upcoming harvest, or for whatever purpose it might be, friendly people will receive me in a friendly and happy manner, and i will praise myself for not showing any hurry and displeasure at that time. so, leave it as it is, my friend, and don't harm yourself by scolding! if the day will come, when you will see: this siddhartha is harming me, then speak a word and siddhartha will go on his own path. but until then, let's be satisfied with one another." futile were also the merchant's attempts, to convince siddhartha that he should eat his bread. siddhartha ate his own bread, or rather they both ate other people's bread, all people's bread. siddhartha never listened to kamaswami's worries and kamaswami had many worries. whether there was a business-deal going on which was in danger of failing, or whether a shipment of merchandise seemed to have been lost, or a debtor seemed to be unable to pay, kamaswami could never convince his partner that it would be useful to utter a few words of worry or anger, to have wrinkles on the forehead, to sleep badly. when, one day, kamaswami held against him that he had learned everything he knew from him, he replied: "would you please not kid me with such jokes! what i've learned from you is how much a basket of fish costs and how much interests may be charged on loaned money. these are your areas of expertise. i haven't learned to think from you, my dear kamaswami, you ought to be the one seeking to learn from me." indeed his soul was not with the trade. the business was good enough to provide him with the money for kamala, and it earned him much more than he needed. besides from this, siddhartha's interest and curiosity was only concerned with the people, whose businesses, crafts, worries, pleasures, and acts of foolishness used to be as alien and distant to him as the moon. however easily he succeeded in talking to all of them, in living with all of them, in learning from all of them, he was still aware that there was something which separated him from them and this separating factor was him being a samana. he saw mankind going through life in a childlike or animallike manner, which he loved and also despised at the same time. he saw them toiling, saw them suffering, and becoming gray for the sake of things which seemed to him to entirely unworthy of this price, for money, for little pleasures, for being slightly honoured, he saw them scolding and insulting each other, he saw them complaining about pain at which a samana would only smile, and suffering because of deprivations which a samana would not feel. he was open to everything, these people brought his way. welcome was the merchant who offered him linen for sale, welcome was the debtor who sought another loan, welcome was the beggar who told him for one hour the story of his poverty and who was not half as poor as any given samana. he did not treat the rich foreign merchant any different than the servant who shaved him and the street-vendor whom he let cheat him out of some small change when buying bananas. when kamaswami came to him, to complain about his worries or to reproach him concerning his business, he listened curiously and happily, was puzzled by him, tried to understand him, consented that he was a little bit right, only as much as he considered indispensable, and turned away from him, towards the next person who would ask for him. and there were many who came to him, many to do business with him, many to cheat him, many to draw some secret out of him, many to appeal to his sympathy, many to get his advice. he gave advice, he pitied, he made gifts, he let them cheat him a bit, and this entire game and the passion with which all people played this game occupied his thoughts just as much as the gods and brahmans used to occupy them. at times he felt, deep in his chest, a dying, quiet voice, which admonished him quietly, lamented quietly; he hardly perceived it. and then, for an hour, he became aware of the strange life he was leading, of him doing lots of things which were only a game, of, though being happy and feeling joy at times, real life still passing him by and not touching him. as a ball-player plays with his balls, he played with his business-deals, with the people around him, watched them, found amusement in them; with his heart, with the source of his being, he was not with them. the source ran somewhere, far away from him, ran and ran invisibly, had nothing to do with his life any more. and at several times he suddenly became scared on account of such thoughts and wished that he would also be gifted with the ability to participate in all of this childlike-naive occupations of the daytime with passion and with his heart, really to live, really to act, really to enjoy and to live instead of just standing by as a spectator. but again and again, he came back to beautiful kamala, learned the art of love, practised the cult of lust, in which more than in anything else giving and taking becomes one, chatted with her, learned from her, gave her advice, received advice. she understood him better than govinda used to understand him, she was more similar to him. once, he said to her: "you are like me, you are different from most people. you are kamala, nothing else, and inside of you, there is a peace and refuge, to which you can go at every hour of the day and be at home at yourself, as i can also do. few people have this, and yet all could have it." "not all people are smart," said kamala. "no," said siddhartha, "that's not the reason why. kamaswami is just as smart as i, and still has no refuge in himself. others have it, who are small children with respect to their mind. most people, kamala, are like a falling leaf, which is blown and is turning around through the air, and wavers, and tumbles to the ground. but others, a few, are like stars, they go on a fixed course, no wind reaches them, in themselves they have their law and their course. among all the learned men and samanas, of which i knew many, there was one of this kind, a perfected one, i'll never be able to forget him. it is that gotama, the exalted one, who is spreading that teachings. thousands of followers are listening to his teachings every day, follow his instructions every hour, but they are all falling leaves, not in themselves they have teachings and a law." kamala looked at him with a smile. "again, you're talking about him," she said, "again, you're having a samana's thoughts." siddhartha said nothing, and they played the game of love, one of the thirty or forty different games kamala knew. her body was flexible like that of a jaguar and like the bow of a hunter; he who had learned from her how to make love, was knowledgeable of many forms of lust, many secrets. for a long time, she played with siddhartha, enticed him, rejected him, forced him, embraced him: enjoyed his masterful skills, until he was defeated and rested exhausted by her side. the courtesan bent over him, took a long look at his face, at his eyes, which had grown tired. "you are the best lover," she said thoughtfully, "i ever saw. you're stronger than others, more supple, more willing. you've learned my art well, siddhartha. at some time, when i'll be older, i'd want to bear your child. and yet, my dear, you've remained a samana, and yet you do not love me, you love nobody. isn't it so?" "it might very well be so," siddhartha said tiredly. "i am like you. you also do not love--how else could you practise love as a craft? perhaps, people of our kind can't love. the childlike people can; that's their secret." sansara for a long time, siddhartha had lived the life of the world and of lust, though without being a part of it. his senses, which he had killed off in hot years as a samana, had awoken again, he had tasted riches, had tasted lust, had tasted power; nevertheless he had still remained in his heart for a long time a samana; kamala, being smart, had realized this quite right. it was still the art of thinking, of waiting, of fasting, which guided his life; still the people of the world, the childlike people, had remained alien to him as he was alien to them. years passed by; surrounded by the good life, siddhartha hardly felt them fading away. he had become rich, for quite a while he possessed a house of his own and his own servants, and a garden before the city by the river. the people liked him, they came to him, whenever they needed money or advice, but there was nobody close to him, except kamala. that high, bright state of being awake, which he had experienced that one time at the height of his youth, in those days after gotama's sermon, after the separation from govinda, that tense expectation, that proud state of standing alone without teachings and without teachers, that supple willingness to listen to the divine voice in his own heart, had slowly become a memory, had been fleeting; distant and quiet, the holy source murmured, which used to be near, which used to murmur within himself. nevertheless, many things he had learned from the samanas, he had learned from gotama, he had learned from his father the brahman, had remained within him for a long time afterwards: moderate living, joy of thinking, hours of meditation, secret knowledge of the self, of his eternal entity, which is neither body nor consciousness. many a part of this he still had, but one part after another had been submerged and had gathered dust. just as a potter's wheel, once it has been set in motion, will keep on turning for a long time and only slowly lose its vigour and come to a stop, thus siddhartha's soul had kept on turning the wheel of asceticism, the wheel of thinking, the wheel of differentiation for a long time, still turning, but it turned slowly and hesitantly and was close to coming to a standstill. slowly, like humidity entering the dying stem of a tree, filling it slowly and making it rot, the world and sloth had entered siddhartha's soul, slowly it filled his soul, made it heavy, made it tired, put it to sleep. on the other hand, his senses had become alive, there was much they had learned, much they had experienced. siddhartha had learned to trade, to use his power over people, to enjoy himself with a woman, he had learned to wear beautiful clothes, to give orders to servants, to bathe in perfumed waters. he had learned to eat tenderly and carefully prepared food, even fish, even meat and poultry, spices and sweets, and to drink wine, which causes sloth and forgetfulness. he had learned to play with dice and on a chess-board, to watch dancing girls, to have himself carried about in a sedan-chair, to sleep on a soft bed. but still he had felt different from and superior to the others; always he had watched them with some mockery, some mocking disdain, with the same disdain which a samana constantly feels for the people of the world. when kamaswami was ailing, when he was annoyed, when he felt insulted, when he was vexed by his worries as a merchant, siddhartha had always watched it with mockery. just slowly and imperceptibly, as the harvest seasons and rainy seasons passed by, his mockery had become more tired, his superiority had become more quiet. just slowly, among his growing riches, siddhartha had assumed something of the childlike people's ways for himself, something of their childlikeness and of their fearfulness. and yet, he envied them, envied them just the more, the more similar he became to them. he envied them for the one thing that was missing from him and that they had, the importance they were able to attach to their lives, the amount of passion in their joys and fears, the fearful but sweet happiness of being constantly in love. these people were all of the time in love with themselves, with women, with their children, with honours or money, with plans or hopes. but he did not learn this from them, this out of all things, this joy of a child and this foolishness of a child; he learned from them out of all things the unpleasant ones, which he himself despised. it happened more and more often that, in the morning after having had company the night before, he stayed in bed for a long time, felt unable to think and tired. it happened that he became angry and impatient, when kamaswami bored him with his worries. it happened that he laughed just too loud, when he lost a game of dice. his face was still smarter and more spiritual than others, but it rarely laughed, and assumed, one after another, those features which are so often found in the faces of rich people, those features of discontent, of sickliness, of ill-humour, of sloth, of a lack of love. slowly the disease of the soul, which rich people have, grabbed hold of him. like a veil, like a thin mist, tiredness came over siddhartha, slowly, getting a bit denser every day, a bit murkier every month, a bit heavier every year. as a new dress becomes old in time, loses its beautiful colour in time, gets stains, gets wrinkles, gets worn off at the seams, and starts to show threadbare spots here and there, thus siddhartha's new life, which he had started after his separation from govinda, had grown old, lost colour and splendour as the years passed by, was gathering wrinkles and stains, and hidden at bottom, already showing its ugliness here and there, disappointment and disgust were waiting. siddhartha did not notice it. he only noticed that this bright and reliable voice inside of him, which had awoken in him at that time and had ever guided him in his best times, had become silent. he had been captured by the world, by lust, covetousness, sloth, and finally also by that vice which he had used to despise and mock the most as the most foolish one of all vices: greed. property, possessions, and riches also had finally captured him; they were no longer a game and trifles to him, had become a shackle and a burden. in a strange and devious way, siddhartha had gotten into this final and most base of all dependencies, by means of the game of dice. it was since that time, when he had stopped being a samana in his heart, that siddhartha began to play the game for money and precious things, which he at other times only joined with a smile and casually as a custom of the childlike people, with an increasing rage and passion. he was a feared gambler, few dared to take him on, so high and audacious were his stakes. he played the game due to a pain of his heart, losing and wasting his wretched money in the game brought him an angry joy, in no other way he could demonstrate his disdain for wealth, the merchants' false god, more clearly and more mockingly. thus he gambled with high stakes and mercilessly, hating himself, mocking himself, won thousands, threw away thousands, lost money, lost jewelry, lost a house in the country, won again, lost again. that fear, that terrible and petrifying fear, which he felt while he was rolling the dice, while he was worried about losing high stakes, that fear he loved and sought to always renew it, always increase it, always get it to a slightly higher level, for in this feeling alone he still felt something like happiness, something like an intoxication, something like an elevated form of life in the midst of his saturated, lukewarm, dull life. and after each big loss, his mind was set on new riches, pursued the trade more zealously, forced his debtors more strictly to pay, because he wanted to continue gambling, he wanted to continue squandering, continue demonstrating his disdain of wealth. siddhartha lost his calmness when losses occurred, lost his patience when he was not payed on time, lost his kindness towards beggars, lost his disposition for giving away and loaning money to those who petitioned him. he, who gambled away tens of thousands at one roll of the dice and laughed at it, became more strict and more petty in his business, occasionally dreaming at night about money! and whenever he woke up from this ugly spell, whenever he found his face in the mirror at the bedroom's wall to have aged and become more ugly, whenever embarrassment and disgust came over him, he continued fleeing, fleeing into a new game, fleeing into a numbing of his mind brought on by sex, by wine, and from there he fled back into the urge to pile up and obtain possessions. in this pointless cycle he ran, growing tired, growing old, growing ill. then the time came when a dream warned him. he had spent the hours of the evening with kamala, in her beautiful pleasure-garden. they had been sitting under the trees, talking, and kamala had said thoughtful words, words behind which a sadness and tiredness lay hidden. she had asked him to tell her about gotama, and could not hear enough of him, how clear his eyes, how still and beautiful his mouth, how kind his smile, how peaceful his walk had been. for a long time, he had to tell her about the exalted buddha, and kamala had sighed and had said: "one day, perhaps soon, i'll also follow that buddha. i'll give him my pleasure-garden for a gift and take my refuge in his teachings." but after this, she had aroused him, and had tied him to her in the act of making love with painful fervour, biting and in tears, as if, once more, she wanted to squeeze the last sweet drop out of this vain, fleeting pleasure. never before, it had become so strangely clear to siddhartha, how closely lust was akin to death. then he had lain by her side, and kamala's face had been close to him, and under her eyes and next to the corners of her mouth he had, as clearly as never before, read a fearful inscription, an inscription of small lines, of slight grooves, an inscription reminiscent of autumn and old age, just as siddhartha himself, who was only in his forties, had already noticed, here and there, gray hairs among his black ones. tiredness was written on kamala's beautiful face, tiredness from walking a long path, which has no happy destination, tiredness and the beginning of withering, and concealed, still unsaid, perhaps not even conscious anxiety: fear of old age, fear of the autumn, fear of having to die. with a sigh, he had bid his farewell to her, the soul full of reluctance, and full of concealed anxiety. then, siddhartha had spent the night in his house with dancing girls and wine, had acted as if he was superior to them towards the fellow-members of his caste, though this was no longer true, had drunk much wine and gone to bed a long time after midnight, being tired and yet excited, close to weeping and despair, and had for a long time sought to sleep in vain, his heart full of misery which he thought he could not bear any longer, full of a disgust which he felt penetrating his entire body like the lukewarm, repulsive taste of the wine, the just too sweet, dull music, the just too soft smile of the dancing girls, the just too sweet scent of their hair and breasts. but more than by anything else, he was disgusted by himself, by his perfumed hair, by the smell of wine from his mouth, by the flabby tiredness and listlessness of his skin. like when someone, who has eaten and drunk far too much, vomits it back up again with agonising pain and is nevertheless glad about the relief, thus this sleepless man wished to free himself of these pleasures, these habits and all of this pointless life and himself, in an immense burst of disgust. not until the light of the morning and the beginning of the first activities in the street before his city-house, he had slightly fallen asleep, had found for a few moments a half unconsciousness, a hint of sleep. in those moments, he had a dream: kamala owned a small, rare singing bird in a golden cage. of this bird, he dreamt. he dreamt: this bird had become mute, who at other times always used to sing in the morning, and since this arose his attention, he stepped in front of the cage and looked inside; there the small bird was dead and lay stiff on the ground. he took it out, weighed it for a moment in his hand, and then threw it away, out in the street, and in the same moment, he felt terribly shocked, and his heart hurt, as if he had thrown away from himself all value and everything good by throwing out this dead bird. starting up from this dream, he felt encompassed by a deep sadness. worthless, so it seemed to him, worthless and pointless was the way he had been going through life; nothing which was alive, nothing which was in some way delicious or worth keeping he had left in his hands. alone he stood there and empty like a castaway on the shore. with a gloomy mind, siddhartha went to the pleasure-garden he owned, locked the gate, sat down under a mango-tree, felt death in his heart and horror in his chest, sat and sensed how everything died in him, withered in him, came to an end in him. by and by, he gathered his thoughts, and in his mind, he once again went the entire path of his life, starting with the first days he could remember. when was there ever a time when he had experienced happiness, felt a true bliss? oh yes, several times he had experienced such a thing. in his years as a boy, he has had a taste of it, when he had obtained praise from the brahmans, he had felt it in his heart: "there is a path in front of the one who has distinguished himself in the recitation of the holy verses, in the dispute with the learned ones, as an assistant in the offerings." then, he had felt it in his heart: "there is a path in front of you, you are destined for, the gods are awaiting you." and again, as a young man, when the ever rising, upward fleeing, goal of all thinking had ripped him out of and up from the multitude of those seeking the same goal, when he wrestled in pain for the purpose of brahman, when every obtained knowledge only kindled new thirst in him, then again he had, in the midst of the thirst, in the midst of the pain felt this very same thing: "go on! go on! you are called upon!" he had heard this voice when he had left his home and had chosen the life of a samana, and again when he had gone away from the samanas to that perfected one, and also when he had gone away from him to the uncertain. for how long had he not heard this voice any more, for how long had he reached no height any more, how even and dull was the manner in which his path had passed through life, for many long years, without a high goal, without thirst, without elevation, content with small lustful pleasures and yet never satisfied! for all of these many years, without knowing it himself, he had tried hard and longed to become a man like those many, like those children, and in all this, his life had been much more miserable and poorer than theirs, and their goals were not his, nor their worries; after all, that entire world of the kamaswami-people had only been a game to him, a dance he would watch, a comedy. only kamala had been dear, had been valuable to him--but was she still thus? did he still need her, or she him? did they not play a game without an ending? was it necessary to live for this? no, it was not necessary! the name of this game was sansara, a game for children, a game which was perhaps enjoyable to play once, twice, ten times--but for ever and ever over again? then, siddhartha knew that the game was over, that he could not play it any more. shivers ran over his body, inside of him, so he felt, something had died. that entire day, he sat under the mango-tree, thinking of his father, thinking of govinda, thinking of gotama. did he have to leave them to become a kamaswami? he still sat there, when the night had fallen. when, looking up, he caught sight of the stars, he thought: "here i'm sitting under my mango-tree, in my pleasure-garden." he smiled a little --was it really necessary, was it right, was it not as foolish game, that he owned a mango-tree, that he owned a garden? he also put an end to this, this also died in him. he rose, bid his farewell to the mango-tree, his farewell to the pleasure-garden. since he had been without food this day, he felt strong hunger, and thought of his house in the city, of his chamber and bed, of the table with the meals on it. he smiled tiredly, shook himself, and bid his farewell to these things. in the same hour of the night, siddhartha left his garden, left the city, and never came back. for a long time, kamaswami had people look for him, thinking that he had fallen into the hands of robbers. kamala had no one look for him. when she was told that siddhartha had disappeared, she was not astonished. did she not always expect it? was he not a samana, a man who was at home nowhere, a pilgrim? and most of all, she had felt this the last time they had been together, and she was happy, in spite of all the pain of the loss, that she had pulled him so affectionately to her heart for this last time, that she had felt one more time to be so completely possessed and penetrated by him. when she received the first news of siddhartha's disappearance, she went to the window, where she held a rare singing bird captive in a golden cage. she opened the door of the cage, took the bird out and let it fly. for a long time, she gazed after it, the flying bird. from this day on, she received no more visitors and kept her house locked. but after some time, she became aware that she was pregnant from the last time she was together with siddhartha. by the river siddhartha walked through the forest, was already far from the city, and knew nothing but that one thing, that there was no going back for him, that this life, as he had lived it for many years until now, was over and done away with, and that he had tasted all of it, sucked everything out of it until he was disgusted with it. dead was the singing bird, he had dreamt of. dead was the bird in his heart. deeply, he had been entangled in sansara, he had sucked up disgust and death from all sides into his body, like a sponge sucks up water until it is full. and full he was, full of the feeling of been sick of it, full of misery, full of death, there was nothing left in this world which could have attracted him, given him joy, given him comfort. passionately he wished to know nothing about himself anymore, to have rest, to be dead. if there only was a lightning-bolt to strike him dead! if there only was a tiger to devour him! if there only was a wine, a poison which would numb his senses, bring him forgetfulness and sleep, and no awakening from that! was there still any kind of filth, he had not soiled himself with, a sin or foolish act he had not committed, a dreariness of the soul he had not brought upon himself? was it still at all possible to be alive? was it possible, to breathe in again and again, to breathe out, to feel hunger, to eat again, to sleep again, to sleep with a woman again? was this cycle not exhausted and brought to a conclusion for him? siddhartha reached the large river in the forest, the same river over which a long time ago, when he had still been a young man and came from the town of gotama, a ferryman had conducted him. by this river he stopped, hesitantly he stood at the bank. tiredness and hunger had weakened him, and whatever for should he walk on, wherever to, to which goal? no, there were no more goals, there was nothing left but the deep, painful yearning to shake off this whole desolate dream, to spit out this stale wine, to put an end to this miserable and shameful life. a hang bent over the bank of the river, a coconut-tree; siddhartha leaned against its trunk with his shoulder, embraced the trunk with one arm, and looked down into the green water, which ran and ran under him, looked down and found himself to be entirely filled with the wish to let go and to drown in these waters. a frightening emptiness was reflected back at him by the water, answering to the terrible emptiness in his soul. yes, he had reached the end. there was nothing left for him, except to annihilate himself, except to smash the failure into which he had shaped his life, to throw it away, before the feet of mockingly laughing gods. this was the great vomiting he had longed for: death, the smashing to bits of the form he hated! let him be food for fishes, this dog siddhartha, this lunatic, this depraved and rotten body, this weakened and abused soul! let him be food for fishes and crocodiles, let him be chopped to bits by the daemons! with a distorted face, he stared into the water, saw the reflection of his face and spit at it. in deep tiredness, he took his arm away from the trunk of the tree and turned a bit, in order to let himself fall straight down, in order to finally drown. with his eyes closed, he slipped towards death. then, out of remote areas of his soul, out of past times of his now weary life, a sound stirred up. it was a word, a syllable, which he, without thinking, with a slurred voice, spoke to himself, the old word which is the beginning and the end of all prayers of the brahmans, the holy "om", which roughly means "that what is perfect" or "the completion". and in the moment when the sound of "om" touched siddhartha's ear, his dormant spirit suddenly woke up and realized the foolishness of his actions. siddhartha was deeply shocked. so this was how things were with him, so doomed was he, so much he had lost his way and was forsaken by all knowledge, that he had been able to seek death, that this wish, this wish of a child, had been able to grow in him: to find rest by annihilating his body! what all agony of these recent times, all sobering realizations, all desperation had not brought about, this was brought on by this moment, when the om entered his consciousness: he became aware of himself in his misery and in his error. om! he spoke to himself: om! and again he knew about brahman, knew about the indestructibility of life, knew about all that is divine, which he had forgotten. but this was only a moment, flash. by the foot of the coconut-tree, siddhartha collapsed, struck down by tiredness, mumbling om, placed his head on the root of the tree and fell into a deep sleep. deep was his sleep and without dreams, for a long time he had not known such a sleep any more. when he woke up after many hours, he felt as if ten years had passed, he heard the water quietly flowing, did not know where he was and who had brought him here, opened his eyes, saw with astonishment that there were trees and the sky above him, and he remembered where he was and how he got here. but it took him a long while for this, and the past seemed to him as if it had been covered by a veil, infinitely distant, infinitely far away, infinitely meaningless. he only knew that his previous life (in the first moment when he thought about it, this past life seemed to him like a very old, previous incarnation, like an early pre-birth of his present self)--that his previous life had been abandoned by him, that, full of disgust and wretchedness, he had even intended to throw his life away, but that by a river, under a coconut-tree, he has come to his senses, the holy word om on his lips, that then he had fallen asleep and had now woken up and was looking at the world as a new man. quietly, he spoke the word om to himself, speaking which he had fallen asleep, and it seemed to him as if his entire long sleep had been nothing but a long meditative recitation of om, a thinking of om, a submergence and complete entering into om, into the nameless, the perfected. what a wonderful sleep had this been! never before by sleep, he had been thus refreshed, thus renewed, thus rejuvenated! perhaps, he had really died, had drowned and was reborn in a new body? but no, he knew himself, he knew his hand and his feet, knew the place where he lay, knew this self in his chest, this siddhartha, the eccentric, the weird one, but this siddhartha was nevertheless transformed, was renewed, was strangely well rested, strangely awake, joyful and curious. siddhartha straightened up, then he saw a person sitting opposite to him, an unknown man, a monk in a yellow robe with a shaven head, sitting in the position of pondering. he observed the man, who had neither hair on his head nor a beard, and he had not observed him for long when he recognised this monk as govinda, the friend of his youth, govinda who had taken his refuge with the exalted buddha. govinda had aged, he too, but still his face bore the same features, expressed zeal, faithfulness, searching, timidness. but when govinda now, sensing his gaze, opened his eyes and looked at him, siddhartha saw that govinda did not recognise him. govinda was happy to find him awake; apparently, he had been sitting here for a long time and been waiting for him to wake up, though he did not know him. "i have been sleeping," said siddhartha. "however did you get here?" "you have been sleeping," answered govinda. "it is not good to be sleeping in such places, where snakes often are and the animals of the forest have their paths. i, oh sir, am a follower of the exalted gotama, the buddha, the sakyamuni, and have been on a pilgrimage together with several of us on this path, when i saw you lying and sleeping in a place where it is dangerous to sleep. therefore, i sought to wake you up, oh sir, and since i saw that your sleep was very deep, i stayed behind from my group and sat with you. and then, so it seems, i have fallen asleep myself, i who wanted to guard your sleep. badly, i have served you, tiredness has overwhelmed me. but now that you're awake, let me go to catch up with my brothers." "i thank you, samana, for watching out over my sleep," spoke siddhartha. "you're friendly, you followers of the exalted one. now you may go then." "i'm going, sir. may you, sir, always be in good health." "i thank you, samana." govinda made the gesture of a salutation and said: "farewell." "farewell, govinda," said siddhartha. the monk stopped. "permit me to ask, sir, from where do you know my name?" now, siddhartha smiled. "i know you, oh govinda, from your father's hut, and from the school of the brahmans, and from the offerings, and from our walk to the samanas, and from that hour when you took your refuge with the exalted one in the grove jetavana." "you're siddhartha," govinda exclaimed loudly. "now, i'm recognising you, and don't comprehend any more how i couldn't recognise you right away. be welcome, siddhartha, my joy is great, to see you again." "it also gives me joy, to see you again. you've been the guard of my sleep, again i thank you for this, though i wouldn't have required any guard. where are you going to, oh friend?" "i'm going nowhere. we monks are always travelling, whenever it is not the rainy season, we always move from one place to another, live according to the rules if the teachings passed on to us, accept alms, move on. it is always like this. but you, siddhartha, where are you going to?" quoth siddhartha: "with me too, friend, it is as it is with you. i'm going nowhere. i'm just travelling. i'm on a pilgrimage." govinda spoke: "you're saying: you're on a pilgrimage, and i believe in you. but, forgive me, oh siddhartha, you do not look like a pilgrim. you're wearing a rich man's garments, you're wearing the shoes of a distinguished gentleman, and your hair, with the fragrance of perfume, is not a pilgrim's hair, not the hair of a samana." "right so, my dear, you have observed well, your keen eyes see everything. but i haven't said to you that i was a samana. i said: i'm on a pilgrimage. and so it is: i'm on a pilgrimage." "you're on a pilgrimage," said govinda. "but few would go on a pilgrimage in such clothes, few in such shoes, few with such hair. never i have met such a pilgrim, being a pilgrim myself for many years." "i believe you, my dear govinda. but now, today, you've met a pilgrim just like this, wearing such shoes, such a garment. remember, my dear: not eternal is the world of appearances, not eternal, anything but eternal are our garments and the style of our hair, and our hair and bodies themselves. i'm wearing a rich man's clothes, you've seen this quite right. i'm wearing them, because i have been a rich man, and i'm wearing my hair like the worldly and lustful people, for i have been one of them." "and now, siddhartha, what are you now?" "i don't know it, i don't know it just like you. i'm travelling. i was a rich man and am no rich man any more, and what i'll be tomorrow, i don't know." "you've lost your riches?" "i've lost them or they me. they somehow happened to slip away from me. the wheel of physical manifestations is turning quickly, govinda. where is siddhartha the brahman? where is siddhartha the samana? where is siddhartha the rich man? non-eternal things change quickly, govinda, you know it." govinda looked at the friend of his youth for a long time, with doubt in his eyes. after that, he gave him the salutation which one would use on a gentleman and went on his way. with a smiling face, siddhartha watched him leave, he loved him still, this faithful man, this fearful man. and how could he not have loved everybody and everything in this moment, in the glorious hour after his wonderful sleep, filled with om! the enchantment, which had happened inside of him in his sleep and by means of the om, was this very thing that he loved everything, that he was full of joyful love for everything he saw. and it was this very thing, so it seemed to him now, which had been his sickness before, that he was not able to love anybody or anything. with a smiling face, siddhartha watched the leaving monk. the sleep had strengthened him much, but hunger gave him much pain, for by now he had not eaten for two days, and the times were long past when he had been tough against hunger. with sadness, and yet also with a smile, he thought of that time. in those days, so he remembered, he had boasted of three things to kamala, had been able to do three noble and undefeatable feats: fasting--waiting--thinking. these had been his possession, his power and strength, his solid staff; in the busy, laborious years of his youth, he had learned these three feats, nothing else. and now, they had abandoned him, none of them was his any more, neither fasting, nor waiting, nor thinking. for the most wretched things, he had given them up, for what fades most quickly, for sensual lust, for the good life, for riches! his life had indeed been strange. and now, so it seemed, now he had really become a childlike person. siddhartha thought about his situation. thinking was hard on him, he did not really feel like it, but he forced himself. now, he thought, since all these most easily perishing things have slipped from me again, now i'm standing here under the sun again just as i have been standing here a little child, nothing is mine, i have no abilities, there is nothing i could bring about, i have learned nothing. how wondrous is this! now, that i'm no longer young, that my hair is already half gray, that my strength is fading, now i'm starting again at the beginning and as a child! again, he had to smile. yes, his fate had been strange! things were going downhill with him, and now he was again facing the world void and naked and stupid. but he could not feed sad about this, no, he even felt a great urge to laugh, to laugh about himself, to laugh about this strange, foolish world. "things are going downhill with you!" he said to himself, and laughed about it, and as he was saying it, he happened to glance at the river, and he also saw the river going downhill, always moving on downhill, and singing and being happy through it all. he liked this well, kindly he smiled at the river. was this not the river in which he had intended to drown himself, in past times, a hundred years ago, or had he dreamed this? wondrous indeed was my life, so he thought, wondrous detours it has taken. as a boy, i had only to do with gods and offerings. as a youth, i had only to do with asceticism, with thinking and meditation, was searching for brahman, worshipped the eternal in the atman. but as a young man, i followed the penitents, lived in the forest, suffered of heat and frost, learned to hunger, taught my body to become dead. wonderfully, soon afterwards, insight came towards me in the form of the great buddha's teachings, i felt the knowledge of the oneness of the world circling in me like my own blood. but i also had to leave buddha and the great knowledge. i went and learned the art of love with kamala, learned trading with kamaswami, piled up money, wasted money, learned to love my stomach, learned to please my senses. i had to spend many years losing my spirit, to unlearn thinking again, to forget the oneness. isn't it just as if i had turned slowly and on a long detour from a man into a child, from a thinker into a childlike person? and yet, this path has been very good; and yet, the bird in my chest has not died. but what a path has this been! i had to pass through so much stupidity, through so much vices, through so many errors, through so much disgust and disappointments and woe, just to become a child again and to be able to start over. but it was right so, my heart says "yes" to it, my eyes smile to it. i've had to experience despair, i've had to sink down to the most foolish one of all thoughts, to the thought of suicide, in order to be able to experience divine grace, to hear om again, to be able to sleep properly and awake properly again. i had to become a fool, to find atman in me again. i had to sin, to be able to live again. where else might my path lead me to? it is foolish, this path, it moves in loops, perhaps it is going around in a circle. let it go as it likes, i want to take it. wonderfully, he felt joy rolling like waves in his chest. wherever from, he asked his heart, where from did you get this happiness? might it come from that long, good sleep, which has done me so good? or from the word om, which i said? or from the fact that i have escaped, that i have completely fled, that i am finally free again and am standing like a child under the sky? oh how good is it to have fled, to have become free! how clean and beautiful is the air here, how good to breathe! there, where i ran away from, there everything smelled of ointments, of spices, of wine, of excess, of sloth. how did i hate this world of the rich, of those who revel in fine food, of the gamblers! how did i hate myself for staying in this terrible world for so long! how did i hate myself, have deprive, poisoned, tortured myself, have made myself old and evil! no, never again i will, as i used to like doing so much, delude myself into thinking that siddhartha was wise! but this one thing i have done well, this i like, this i must praise, that there is now an end to that hatred against myself, to that foolish and dreary life! i praise you, siddhartha, after so many years of foolishness, you have once again had an idea, have done something, have heard the bird in your chest singing and have followed it! thus he praised himself, found joy in himself, listened curiously to his stomach, which was rumbling with hunger. he had now, so he felt, in these recent times and days, completely tasted and spit out, devoured up to the point of desperation and death, a piece of suffering, a piece of misery. like this, it was good. for much longer, he could have stayed with kamaswami, made money, wasted money, filled his stomach, and let his soul die of thirst; for much longer he could have lived in this soft, well upholstered hell, if this had not happened: the moment of complete hopelessness and despair, that most extreme moment, when he hung over the rushing waters and was ready to destroy himself. that he had felt this despair, this deep disgust, and that he had not succumbed to it, that the bird, the joyful source and voice in him was still alive after all, this was why he felt joy, this was why he laughed, this was why his face was smiling brightly under his hair which had turned gray. "it is good," he thought, "to get a taste of everything for oneself, which one needs to know. that lust for the world and riches do not belong to the good things, i have already learned as a child. i have known it for a long time, but i have experienced only now. and now i know it, don't just know it in my memory, but in my eyes, in my heart, in my stomach. good for me, to know this!" for a long time, he pondered his transformation, listened to the bird, as it sang for joy. had not this bird died in him, had he not felt its death? no, something else from within him had died, something which already for a long time had yearned to die. was it not this what he used to intend to kill in his ardent years as a penitent? was this not his self, his small, frightened, and proud self, he had wrestled with for so many years, which had defeated him again and again, which was back again after every killing, prohibited joy, felt fear? was it not this, which today had finally come to its death, here in the forest, by this lovely river? was it not due to this death, that he was now like a child, so full of trust, so without fear, so full of joy? now siddhartha also got some idea of why he had fought this self in vain as a brahman, as a penitent. too much knowledge had held him back, too many holy verses, too many sacrificial rules, to much self-castigation, so much doing and striving for that goal! full of arrogance, he had been, always the smartest, always working the most, always one step ahead of all others, always the knowing and spiritual one, always the priest or wise one. into being a priest, into this arrogance, into this spirituality, his self had retreated, there it sat firmly and grew, while he thought he would kill it by fasting and penance. now he saw it and saw that the secret voice had been right, that no teacher would ever have been able to bring about his salvation. therefore, he had to go out into the world, lose himself to lust and power, to woman and money, had to become a merchant, a dice-gambler, a drinker, and a greedy person, until the priest and samana in him was dead. therefore, he had to continue bearing these ugly years, bearing the disgust, the teachings, the pointlessness of a dreary and wasted life up to the end, up to bitter despair, until siddhartha the lustful, siddhartha the greedy could also die. he had died, a new siddhartha had woken up from the sleep. he would also grow old, he would also eventually have to die, mortal was siddhartha, mortal was every physical form. but today he was young, was a child, the new siddhartha, and was full of joy. he thought these thoughts, listened with a smile to his stomach, listened gratefully to a buzzing bee. cheerfully, he looked into the rushing river, never before he had liked a water so well as this one, never before he had perceived the voice and the parable of the moving water thus strongly and beautifully. it seemed to him, as if the river had something special to tell him, something he did not know yet, which was still awaiting him. in this river, siddhartha had intended to drown himself, in it the old, tired, desperate siddhartha had drowned today. but the new siddhartha felt a deep love for this rushing water, and decided for himself, not to leave it very soon. the ferryman by this river i want to stay, thought siddhartha, it is the same which i have crossed a long time ago on my way to the childlike people, a friendly ferryman had guided me then, he is the one i want to go to, starting out from his hut, my path had led me at that time into a new life, which had now grown old and is dead--my present path, my present new life, shall also take its start there! tenderly, he looked into the rushing water, into the transparent green, into the crystal lines of its drawing, so rich in secrets. bright pearls he saw rising from the deep, quiet bubbles of air floating on the reflecting surface, the blue of the sky being depicted in it. with a thousand eyes, the river looked at him, with green ones, with white ones, with crystal ones, with sky-blue ones. how did he love this water, how did it delight him, how grateful was he to it! in his heart he heard the voice talking, which was newly awaking, and it told him: love this water! stay near it! learn from it! oh yes, he wanted to learn from it, he wanted to listen to it. he who would understand this water and its secrets, so it seemed to him, would also understand many other things, many secrets, all secrets. but out of all secrets of the river, he today only saw one, this one touched his soul. he saw: this water ran and ran, incessantly it ran, and was nevertheless always there, was always at all times the same and yet new in every moment! great be he who would grasp this, understand this! he understood and grasped it not, only felt some idea of it stirring, a distant memory, divine voices. siddhartha rose, the workings of hunger in his body became unbearable. in a daze he walked on, up the path by the bank, upriver, listened to the current, listened to the rumbling hunger in his body. when he reached the ferry, the boat was just ready, and the same ferryman who had once transported the young samana across the river, stood in the boat, siddhartha recognised him, he had also aged very much. "would you like to ferry me over?" he asked. the ferryman, being astonished to see such an elegant man walking along and on foot, took him into his boat and pushed it off the bank. "it's a beautiful life you have chosen for yourself," the passenger spoke. "it must be beautiful to live by this water every day and to cruise on it." with a smile, the man at the oar moved from side to side: "it is beautiful, sir, it is as you say. but isn't every life, isn't every work beautiful?" "this may be true. but i envy you for yours." "ah, you would soon stop enjoying it. this is nothing for people wearing fine clothes." siddhartha laughed. "once before, i have been looked upon today because of my clothes, i have been looked upon with distrust. wouldn't you, ferryman, like to accept these clothes, which are a nuisance to me, from me? for you must know, i have no money to pay your fare." "you're joking, sir," the ferryman laughed. "i'm not joking, friend. behold, once before you have ferried me across this water in your boat for the immaterial reward of a good deed. thus, do it today as well, and accept my clothes for it." "and do you, sir, intent to continue travelling without clothes?" "ah, most of all i wouldn't want to continue travelling at all. most of all i would like you, ferryman, to give me an old loincloth and kept me with you as your assistant, or rather as your trainee, for i'll have to learn first how to handle the boat." for a long time, the ferryman looked at the stranger, searching. "now i recognise you," he finally said. "at one time, you've slept in my hut, this was a long time ago, possibly more than twenty years ago, and you've been ferried across the river by me, and we parted like good friends. haven't you've been a samana? i can't think of your name any more." "my name is siddhartha, and i was a samana, when you've last seen me." "so be welcome, siddhartha. my name is vasudeva. you will, so i hope, be my guest today as well and sleep in my hut, and tell me, where you're coming from and why these beautiful clothes are such a nuisance to you." they had reached the middle of the river, and vasudeva pushed the oar with more strength, in order to overcome the current. he worked calmly, his eyes fixed in on the front of the boat, with brawny arms. siddhartha sat and watched him, and remembered, how once before, on that last day of his time as a samana, love for this man had stirred in his heart. gratefully, he accepted vasudeva's invitation. when they had reached the bank, he helped him to tie the boat to the stakes; after this, the ferryman asked him to enter the hut, offered him bread and water, and siddhartha ate with eager pleasure, and also ate with eager pleasure of the mango fruits, vasudeva offered him. afterwards, it was almost the time of the sunset, they sat on a log by the bank, and siddhartha told the ferryman about where he originally came from and about his life, as he had seen it before his eyes today, in that hour of despair. until late at night, lasted his tale. vasudeva listened with great attention. listening carefully, he let everything enter his mind, birthplace and childhood, all that learning, all that searching, all joy, all distress. this was among the ferryman's virtues one of the greatest: like only a few, he knew how to listen. without him having spoken a word, the speaker sensed how vasudeva let his words enter his mind, quiet, open, waiting, how he did not lose a single one, awaited not a single one with impatience, did not add his praise or rebuke, was just listening. siddhartha felt, what a happy fortune it is, to confess to such a listener, to bury in his heart his own life, his own search, his own suffering. but in the end of siddhartha's tale, when he spoke of the tree by the river, and of his deep fall, of the holy om, and how he had felt such a love for the river after his slumber, the ferryman listened with twice the attention, entirely and completely absorbed by it, with his eyes closed. but when siddhartha fell silent, and a long silence had occurred, then vasudeva said: "it is as i thought. the river has spoken to you. it is your friend as well, it speaks to you as well. that is good, that is very good. stay with me, siddhartha, my friend. i used to have a wife, her bed was next to mine, but she has died a long time ago, for a long time, i have lived alone. now, you shall live with me, there is space and food for both." "i thank you," said siddhartha, "i thank you and accept. and i also thank you for this, vasudeva, for listening to me so well! these people are rare who know how to listen. and i did not meet a single one who knew it as well as you did. i will also learn in this respect from you." "you will learn it," spoke vasudeva, "but not from me. the river has taught me to listen, from it you will learn it as well. it knows everything, the river, everything can be learned from it. see, you've already learned this from the water too, that it is good to strive downwards, to sink, to seek depth. the rich and elegant siddhartha is becoming an oarsman's servant, the learned brahman siddhartha becomes a ferryman: this has also been told to you by the river. you'll learn that other thing from it as well." quoth siddhartha after a long pause: "what other thing, vasudeva?" vasudeva rose. "it is late," he said, "let's go to sleep. i can't tell you that other thing, oh friend. you'll learn it, or perhaps you know it already. see, i'm no learned man, i have no special skill in speaking, i also have no special skill in thinking. all i'm able to do is to listen and to be godly, i have learned nothing else. if i was able to say and teach it, i might be a wise man, but like this i am only a ferryman, and it is my task to ferry people across the river. i have transported many, thousands; and to all of them, my river has been nothing but an obstacle on their travels. they travelled to seek money and business, and for weddings, and on pilgrimages, and the river was obstructing their path, and the ferryman's job was to get them quickly across that obstacle. but for some among thousands, a few, four or five, the river has stopped being an obstacle, they have heard its voice, they have listened to it, and the river has become sacred to them, as it has become sacred to me. let's rest now, siddhartha." siddhartha stayed with the ferryman and learned to operate the boat, and when there was nothing to do at the ferry, he worked with vasudeva in the rice-field, gathered wood, plucked the fruit off the banana-trees. he learned to build an oar, and learned to mend the boat, and to weave baskets, and was joyful because of everything he learned, and the days and months passed quickly. but more than vasudeva could teach him, he was taught by the river. incessantly, he learned from it. most of all, he learned from it to listen, to pay close attention with a quiet heart, with a waiting, opened soul, without passion, without a wish, without judgement, without an opinion. in a friendly manner, he lived side by side with vasudeva, and occasionally they exchanged some words, few and at length thought about words. vasudeva was no friend of words; rarely, siddhartha succeeded in persuading him to speak. "did you," so he asked him at one time, "did you too learn that secret from the river: that there is no time?" vasudeva's face was filled with a bright smile. "yes, siddhartha," he spoke. "it is this what you mean, isn't it: that the river is everywhere at once, at the source and at the mouth, at the waterfall, at the ferry, at the rapids, in the sea, in the mountains, everywhere at once, and that there is only the present time for it, not the shadow of the past, not the shadow of the future?" "this it is," said siddhartha. "and when i had learned it, i looked at my life, and it was also a river, and the boy siddhartha was only separated from the man siddhartha and from the old man siddhartha by a shadow, not by something real. also, siddhartha's previous births were no past, and his death and his return to brahma was no future. nothing was, nothing will be; everything is, everything has existence and is present." siddhartha spoke with ecstasy; deeply, this enlightenment had delighted him. oh, was not all suffering time, were not all forms of tormenting oneself and being afraid time, was not everything hard, everything hostile in the world gone and overcome as soon as one had overcome time, as soon as time would have been put out of existence by one's thoughts? in ecstatic delight, he had spoken, but vasudeva smiled at him brightly and nodded in confirmation; silently he nodded, brushed his hand over siddhartha's shoulder, turned back to his work. and once again, when the river had just increased its flow in the rainy season and made a powerful noise, then said siddhartha: "isn't it so, oh friend, the river has many voices, very many voices? hasn't it the voice of a king, and of a warrior, and of a bull, and of a bird of the night, and of a woman giving birth, and of a sighing man, and a thousand other voices more?" "so it is," vasudeva nodded, "all voices of the creatures are in its voice." "and do you know," siddhartha continued, "what word it speaks, when you succeed in hearing all of its ten thousand voices at once?" happily, vasudeva's face was smiling, he bent over to siddhartha and spoke the holy om into his ear. and this had been the very thing which siddhartha had also been hearing. and time after time, his smile became more similar to the ferryman's, became almost just as bright, almost just as throughly glowing with bliss, just as shining out of thousand small wrinkles, just as alike to a child's, just as alike to an old man's. many travellers, seeing the two ferrymen, thought they were brothers. often, they sat in the evening together by the bank on the log, said nothing and both listened to the water, which was no water to them, but the voice of life, the voice of what exists, of what is eternally taking shape. and it happened from time to time that both, when listening to the river, thought of the same things, of a conversation from the day before yesterday, of one of their travellers, the face and fate of whom had occupied their thoughts, of death, of their childhood, and that they both in the same moment, when the river had been saying something good to them, looked at each other, both thinking precisely the same thing, both delighted about the same answer to the same question. there was something about this ferry and the two ferrymen which was transmitted to others, which many of the travellers felt. it happened occasionally that a traveller, after having looked at the face of one of the ferrymen, started to tell the story of his life, told about pains, confessed evil things, asked for comfort and advice. it happened occasionally that someone asked for permission to stay for a night with them to listen to the river. it also happened that curious people came, who had been told that there were two wise men, or sorcerers, or holy men living by that ferry. the curious people asked many questions, but they got no answers, and they found neither sorcerers nor wise men, they only found two friendly little old men, who seemed to be mute and to have become a bit strange and gaga. and the curious people laughed and were discussing how foolishly and gullibly the common people were spreading such empty rumours. the years passed by, and nobody counted them. then, at one time, monks came by on a pilgrimage, followers of gotama, the buddha, who were asking to be ferried across the river, and by them the ferrymen were told that they were most hurriedly walking back to their great teacher, for the news had spread the exalted one was deadly sick and would soon die his last human death, in order to become one with the salvation. it was not long, until a new flock of monks came along on their pilgrimage, and another one, and the monks as well as most of the other travellers and people walking through the land spoke of nothing else than of gotama and his impending death. and as people are flocking from everywhere and from all sides, when they are going to war or to the coronation of a king, and are gathering like ants in droves, thus they flocked, like being drawn on by a magic spell, to where the great buddha was awaiting his death, where the huge event was to take place and the great perfected one of an era was to become one with the glory. often, siddhartha thought in those days of the dying wise man, the great teacher, whose voice had admonished nations and had awoken hundreds of thousands, whose voice he had also once heard, whose holy face he had also once seen with respect. kindly, he thought of him, saw his path to perfection before his eyes, and remembered with a smile those words which he had once, as a young man, said to him, the exalted one. they had been, so it seemed to him, proud and precocious words; with a smile, he remembered them. for a long time he knew that there was nothing standing between gotama and him any more, though he was still unable to accept his teachings. no, there was no teaching a truly searching person, someone who truly wanted to find, could accept. but he who had found, he could approve of any teachings, every path, every goal, there was nothing standing between him and all the other thousand any more who lived in that what is eternal, who breathed what is divine. on one of these days, when so many went on a pilgrimage to the dying buddha, kamala also went to him, who used to be the most beautiful of the courtesans. a long time ago, she had retired from her previous life, had given her garden to the monks of gotama as a gift, had taken her refuge in the teachings, was among the friends and benefactors of the pilgrims. together with siddhartha the boy, her son, she had gone on her way due to the news of the near death of gotama, in simple clothes, on foot. with her little son, she was travelling by the river; but the boy had soon grown tired, desired to go back home, desired to rest, desired to eat, became disobedient and started whining. kamala often had to take a rest with him, he was accustomed to having his way against her, she had to feed him, had to comfort him, had to scold him. he did not comprehend why he had to go on this exhausting and sad pilgrimage with his mother, to an unknown place, to a stranger, who was holy and about to die. so what if he died, how did this concern the boy? the pilgrims were getting close to vasudeva's ferry, when little siddhartha once again forced his mother to rest. she, kamala herself, had also become tired, and while the boy was chewing a banana, she crouched down on the ground, closed her eyes a bit, and rested. but suddenly, she uttered a wailing scream, the boy looked at her in fear and saw her face having grown pale from horror; and from under her dress, a small, black snake fled, by which kamala had been bitten. hurriedly, they now both ran along the path, in order to reach people, and got near to the ferry, there kamala collapsed, and was not able to go any further. but the boy started crying miserably, only interrupting it to kiss and hug his mother, and she also joined his loud screams for help, until the sound reached vasudeva's ears, who stood at the ferry. quickly, he came walking, took the woman on his arms, carried her into the boat, the boy ran along, and soon they all reached the hut, were siddhartha stood by the stove and was just lighting the fire. he looked up and first saw the boy's face, which wondrously reminded him of something, like a warning to remember something he had forgotten. then he saw kamala, whom he instantly recognised, though she lay unconscious in the ferryman's arms, and now he knew that it was his own son, whose face had been such a warning reminder to him, and the heart stirred in his chest. kamala's wound was washed, but had already turned black and her body was swollen, she was made to drink a healing potion. her consciousness returned, she lay on siddhartha's bed in the hut and bent over her stood siddhartha, who used to love her so much. it seemed like a dream to her; with a smile, she looked at her friend's face; just slowly she, realized her situation, remembered the bite, called timidly for the boy. "he's with you, don't worry," said siddhartha. kamala looked into his eyes. she spoke with a heavy tongue, paralysed by the poison. "you've become old, my dear," she said, "you've become gray. but you are like the young samana, who at one time came without clothes, with dusty feet, to me into the garden. you are much more like him, than you were like him at that time when you had left me and kamaswami. in the eyes, you're like him, siddhartha. alas, i have also grown old, old--could you still recognise me?" siddhartha smiled: "instantly, i recognised you, kamala, my dear." kamala pointed to her boy and said: "did you recognise him as well? he is your son." her eyes became confused and fell shut. the boy wept, siddhartha took him on his knees, let him weep, petted his hair, and at the sight of the child's face, a brahman prayer came to his mind, which he had learned a long time ago, when he had been a little boy himself. slowly, with a singing voice, he started to speak; from his past and childhood, the words came flowing to him. and with that singsong, the boy became calm, was only now and then uttering a sob and fell asleep. siddhartha placed him on vasudeva's bed. vasudeva stood by the stove and cooked rice. siddhartha gave him a look, which he returned with a smile. "she'll die," siddhartha said quietly. vasudeva nodded; over his friendly face ran the light of the stove's fire. once again, kamala returned to consciousness. pain distorted her face, siddhartha's eyes read the suffering on her mouth, on her pale cheeks. quietly, he read it, attentively, waiting, his mind becoming one with her suffering. kamala felt it, her gaze sought his eyes. looking at him, she said: "now i see that your eyes have changed as well. they've become completely different. by what do i still recognise that you're siddhartha? it's you, and it's not you." siddhartha said nothing, quietly his eyes looked at hers. "you have achieved it?" she asked. "you have found peace?" he smiled and placed his hand on hers. "i'm seeing it," she said, "i'm seeing it. i too will find peace." "you have found it," siddhartha spoke in a whisper. kamala never stopped looking into his eyes. she thought about her pilgrimage to gotama, which she wanted to take, in order to see the face of the perfected one, to breathe his peace, and she thought that she had now found him in his place, and that it was good, just as good, as if she had seen the other one. she wanted to tell this to him, but the tongue no longer obeyed her will. without speaking, she looked at him, and he saw the life fading from her eyes. when the final pain filled her eyes and made them grow dim, when the final shiver ran through her limbs, his finger closed her eyelids. for a long time, he sat and looked at her peacefully dead face. for a long time, he observed her mouth, her old, tired mouth, with those lips, which had become thin, and he remembered, that he used to, in the spring of his years, compare this mouth with a freshly cracked fig. for a long time, he sat, read in the pale face, in the tired wrinkles, filled himself with this sight, saw his own face lying in the same manner, just as white, just as quenched out, and saw at the same time his face and hers being young, with red lips, with fiery eyes, and the feeling of this both being present and at the same time real, the feeling of eternity, completely filled every aspect of his being. deeply he felt, more deeply than ever before, in this hour, the indestructibility of every life, the eternity of every moment. when he rose, vasudeva had prepared rice for him. but siddhartha did not eat. in the stable, where their goat stood, the two old men prepared beds of straw for themselves, and vasudeva lay himself down to sleep. but siddhartha went outside and sat this night before the hut, listening to the river, surrounded by the past, touched and encircled by all times of his life at the same time. but occasionally, he rose, stepped to the door of the hut and listened, whether the boy was sleeping. early in the morning, even before the sun could be seen, vasudeva came out of the stable and walked over to his friend. "you haven't slept," he said. "no, vasudeva. i sat here, i was listening to the river. a lot it has told me, deeply it has filled me with the healing thought, with the thought of oneness." "you've experienced suffering, siddhartha, but i see: no sadness has entered your heart." "no, my dear, how should i be sad? i, who have been rich and happy, have become even richer and happier now. my son has been given to me." "your son shall be welcome to me as well. but now, siddhartha, let's get to work, there is much to be done. kamala has died on the same bed, on which my wife had died a long time ago. let us also build kamala's funeral pile on the same hill on which i had then built my wife's funeral pile." while the boy was still asleep, they built the funeral pile. the son timid and weeping, the boy had attended his mother's funeral; gloomy and shy, he had listened to siddhartha, who greeted him as his son and welcomed him at his place in vasudeva's hut. pale, he sat for many days by the hill of the dead, did not want to eat, gave no open look, did not open his heart, met his fate with resistance and denial. siddhartha spared him and let him do as he pleased, he honoured his mourning. siddhartha understood that his son did not know him, that he could not love him like a father. slowly, he also saw and understood that the eleven-year-old was a pampered boy, a mother's boy, and that he had grown up in the habits of rich people, accustomed to finer food, to a soft bed, accustomed to giving orders to servants. siddhartha understood that the mourning, pampered child could not suddenly and willingly be content with a life among strangers and in poverty. he did not force him, he did many a chore for him, always picked the best piece of the meal for him. slowly, he hoped to win him over, by friendly patience. rich and happy, he had called himself, when the boy had come to him. since time had passed on in the meantime, and the boy remained a stranger and in a gloomy disposition, since he displayed a proud and stubbornly disobedient heart, did not want to do any work, did not pay his respect to the old men, stole from vasudeva's fruit-trees, then siddhartha began to understand that his son had not brought him happiness and peace, but suffering and worry. but he loved him, and he preferred the suffering and worries of love over happiness and joy without the boy. since young siddhartha was in the hut, the old men had split the work. vasudeva had again taken on the job of the ferryman all by himself, and siddhartha, in order to be with his son, did the work in the hut and the field. for a long time, for long months, siddhartha waited for his son to understand him, to accept his love, to perhaps reciprocate it. for long months, vasudeva waited, watching, waited and said nothing. one day, when siddhartha the younger had once again tormented his father very much with spite and an unsteadiness in his wishes and had broken both of his rice-bowls, vasudeva took in the evening his friend aside and talked to him. "pardon me." he said, "from a friendly heart, i'm talking to you. i'm seeing that you are tormenting yourself, i'm seeing that you're in grief. your son, my dear, is worrying you, and he is also worrying me. that young bird is accustomed to a different life, to a different nest. he has not, like you, ran away from riches and the city, being disgusted and fed up with it; against his will, he had to leave all this behind. i asked the river, oh friend, many times i have asked it. but the river laughs, it laughs at me, it laughs at you and me, and is shaking with laughter at our foolishness. water wants to join water, youth wants to join youth, your son is not in the place where he can prosper. you too should ask the river; you too should listen to it!" troubled, siddhartha looked into his friendly face, in the many wrinkles of which there was incessant cheerfulness. "how could i part with him?" he said quietly, ashamed. "give me some more time, my dear! see, i'm fighting for him, i'm seeking to win his heart, with love and with friendly patience i intent to capture it. one day, the river shall also talk to him, he also is called upon." vasudeva's smile flourished more warmly. "oh yes, he too is called upon, he too is of the eternal life. but do we, you and me, know what he is called upon to do, what path to take, what actions to perform, what pain to endure? not a small one, his pain will be; after all, his heart is proud and hard, people like this have to suffer a lot, err a lot, do much injustice, burden themselves with much sin. tell me, my dear: you're not taking control of your son's upbringing? you don't force him? you don't beat him? you don't punish him?" "no, vasudeva, i don't do anything of this." "i knew it. you don't force him, don't beat him, don't give him orders, because you know that 'soft' is stronger than 'hard', water stronger than rocks, love stronger than force. very good, i praise you. but aren't you mistaken in thinking that you wouldn't force him, wouldn't punish him? don't you shackle him with your love? don't you make him feel inferior every day, and don't you make it even harder on him with your kindness and patience? don't you force him, the arrogant and pampered boy, to live in a hut with two old banana-eaters, to whom even rice is a delicacy, whose thoughts can't be his, whose hearts are old and quiet and beats in a different pace than his? isn't forced, isn't he punished by all this?" troubled, siddhartha looked to the ground. quietly, he asked: "what do you think should i do?" quoth vasudeva: "bring him into the city, bring him into his mother's house, there'll still be servants around, give him to them. and when there aren't any around any more, bring him to a teacher, not for the teachings' sake, but so that he shall be among other boys, and among girls, and in the world which is his own. have you never thought of this?" "you're seeing into my heart," siddhartha spoke sadly. "often, i have thought of this. but look, how shall i put him, who had no tender heart anyhow, into this world? won't he become exuberant, won't he lose himself to pleasure and power, won't he repeat all of his father's mistakes, won't he perhaps get entirely lost in sansara?" brightly, the ferryman's smile lit up; softly, he touched siddhartha's arm and said: "ask the river about it, my friend! hear it laugh about it! would you actually believe that you had committed your foolish acts in order to spare your son from committing them too? and could you in any way protect your son from sansara? how could you? by means of teachings, prayer, admonition? my dear, have you entirely forgotten that story, that story containing so many lessons, that story about siddhartha, a brahman's son, which you once told me here on this very spot? who has kept the samana siddhartha safe from sansara, from sin, from greed, from foolishness? were his father's religious devotion, his teachers warnings, his own knowledge, his own search able to keep him safe? which father, which teacher had been able to protect him from living his life for himself, from soiling himself with life, from burdening himself with guilt, from drinking the bitter drink for himself, from finding his path for himself? would you think, my dear, anybody might perhaps be spared from taking this path? that perhaps your little son would be spared, because you love him, because you would like to keep him from suffering and pain and disappointment? but even if you would die ten times for him, you would not be able to take the slightest part of his destiny upon yourself." never before, vasudeva had spoken so many words. kindly, siddhartha thanked him, went troubled into the hut, could not sleep for a long time. vasudeva had told him nothing, he had not already thought and known for himself. but this was a knowledge he could not act upon, stronger than the knowledge was his love for the boy, stronger was his tenderness, his fear to lose him. had he ever lost his heart so much to something, had he ever loved any person thus, thus blindly, thus sufferingly, thus unsuccessfully, and yet thus happily? siddhartha could not heed his friend's advice, he could not give up the boy. he let the boy give him orders, he let him disregard him. he said nothing and waited; daily, he began the mute struggle of friendliness, the silent war of patience. vasudeva also said nothing and waited, friendly, knowing, patient. they were both masters of patience. at one time, when the boy's face reminded him very much of kamala, siddhartha suddenly had to think of a line which kamala a long time ago, in the days of their youth, had once said to him. "you cannot love," she had said to him, and he had agreed with her and had compared himself with a star, while comparing the childlike people with falling leaves, and nevertheless he had also sensed an accusation in that line. indeed, he had never been able to lose or devote himself completely to another person, to forget himself, to commit foolish acts for the love of another person; never he had been able to do this, and this was, as it had seemed to him at that time, the great distinction which set him apart from the childlike people. but now, since his son was here, now he, siddhartha, had also become completely a childlike person, suffering for the sake of another person, loving another person, lost to a love, having become a fool on account of love. now he too felt, late, once in his lifetime, this strongest and strangest of all passions, suffered from it, suffered miserably, and was nevertheless in bliss, was nevertheless renewed in one respect, enriched by one thing. he did sense very well that this love, this blind love for his son, was a passion, something very human, that it was sansara, a murky source, dark waters. nevertheless, he felt at the same time, it was not worthless, it was necessary, came from the essence of his own being. this pleasure also had to be atoned for, this pain also had to be endured, these foolish acts also had to be committed. through all this, the son let him commit his foolish acts, let him court for his affection, let him humiliate himself every day by giving in to his moods. this father had nothing which would have delighted him and nothing which he would have feared. he was a good man, this father, a good, kind, soft man, perhaps a very devout man, perhaps a saint, all these were no attributes which could win the boy over. he was bored by this father, who kept him prisoner here in this miserable hut of his, he was bored by him, and for him to answer every naughtiness with a smile, every insult with friendliness, every viciousness with kindness, this very thing was the hated trick of this old sneak. much more the boy would have liked it if he had been threatened by him, if he had been abused by him. a day came, when what young siddhartha had on his mind came bursting forth, and he openly turned against his father. the latter had given him a task, he had told him to gather brushwood. but the boy did not leave the hut, in stubborn disobedience and rage he stayed where he was, thumped on the ground with his feet, clenched his fists, and screamed in a powerful outburst his hatred and contempt into his father's face. "get the brushwood for yourself!" he shouted foaming at the mouth, "i'm not your servant. i do know, that you won't hit me, you don't dare; i do know, that you constantly want to punish me and put me down with your religious devotion and your indulgence. you want me to become like you, just as devout, just as soft, just as wise! but i, listen up, just to make you suffer, i rather want to become a highway-robber and murderer, and go to hell, than to become like you! i hate you, you're not my father, and if you've ten times been my mother's fornicator!" rage and grief boiled over in him, foamed at the father in a hundred savage and evil words. then the boy ran away and only returned late at night. but the next morning, he had disappeared. what had also disappeared was a small basket, woven out of bast of two colours, in which the ferrymen kept those copper and silver coins which they received as a fare. the boat had also disappeared, siddhartha saw it lying by the opposite bank. the boy had ran away. "i must follow him," said siddhartha, who had been shivering with grief since those ranting speeches, the boy had made yesterday. "a child can't go through the forest all alone. he'll perish. we must build a raft, vasudeva, to get over the water." "we will build a raft," said vasudeva, "to get our boat back, which the boy has taken away. but him, you shall let run along, my friend, he is no child any more, he knows how to get around. he's looking for the path to the city, and he is right, don't forget that. he's doing what you've failed to do yourself. he's taking care of himself, he's taking his course. alas, siddhartha, i see you suffering, but you're suffering a pain at which one would like to laugh, at which you'll soon laugh for yourself." siddhartha did not answer. he already held the axe in his hands and began to make a raft of bamboo, and vasudeva helped him to tie the canes together with ropes of grass. then they crossed over, drifted far off their course, pulled the raft upriver on the opposite bank. "why did you take the axe along?" asked siddhartha. vasudeva said: "it might have been possible that the oar of our boat got lost." but siddhartha knew what his friend was thinking. he thought, the boy would have thrown away or broken the oar in order to get even and in order to keep them from following him. and in fact, there was no oar left in the boat. vasudeva pointed to the bottom of the boat and looked at his friend with a smile, as if he wanted to say: "don't you see what your son is trying to tell you? don't you see that he doesn't want to be followed?" but he did not say this in words. he started making a new oar. but siddhartha bid his farewell, to look for the run-away. vasudeva did not stop him. when siddhartha had already been walking through the forest for a long time, the thought occurred to him that his search was useless. either, so he thought, the boy was far ahead and had already reached the city, or, if he should still be on his way, he would conceal himself from him, the pursuer. as he continued thinking, he also found that he, on his part, was not worried for his son, that he knew deep inside that he had neither perished nor was in any danger in the forest. nevertheless, he ran without stopping, no longer to save him, just to satisfy his desire, just to perhaps see him one more time. and he ran up to just outside of the city. when, near the city, he reached a wide road, he stopped, by the entrance of the beautiful pleasure-garden, which used to belong to kamala, where he had seen her for the first time in her sedan-chair. the past rose up in his soul, again he saw himself standing there, young, a bearded, naked samana, the hair full of dust. for a long time, siddhartha stood there and looked through the open gate into the garden, seeing monks in yellow robes walking among the beautiful trees. for a long time, he stood there, pondering, seeing images, listening to the story of his life. for a long time, he stood there, looked at the monks, saw young siddhartha in their place, saw young kamala walking among the high trees. clearly, he saw himself being served food and drink by kamala, receiving his first kiss from her, looking proudly and disdainfully back on his brahmanism, beginning proudly and full of desire his worldly life. he saw kamaswami, saw the servants, the orgies, the gamblers with the dice, the musicians, saw kamala's song-bird in the cage, lived through all this once again, breathed sansara, was once again old and tired, felt once again disgust, felt once again the wish to annihilate himself, was once again healed by the holy om. after having been standing by the gate of the garden for a long time, siddhartha realised that his desire was foolish, which had made him go up to this place, that he could not help his son, that he was not allowed to cling him. deeply, he felt the love for the run-away in his heart, like a wound, and he felt at the same time that this wound had not been given to him in order to turn the knife in it, that it had to become a blossom and had to shine. that this wound did not blossom yet, did not shine yet, at this hour, made him sad. instead of the desired goal, which had drawn him here following the runaway son, there was now emptiness. sadly, he sat down, felt something dying in his heart, experienced emptiness, saw no joy any more, no goal. he sat lost in thought and waited. this he had learned by the river, this one thing: waiting, having patience, listening attentively. and he sat and listened, in the dust of the road, listened to his heart, beating tiredly and sadly, waited for a voice. many an hour he crouched, listening, saw no images any more, fell into emptiness, let himself fall, without seeing a path. and when he felt the wound burning, he silently spoke the om, filled himself with om. the monks in the garden saw him, and since he crouched for many hours, and dust was gathering on his gray hair, one of them came to him and placed two bananas in front of him. the old man did not see him. from this petrified state, he was awoken by a hand touching his shoulder. instantly, he recognised this touch, this tender, bashful touch, and regained his senses. he rose and greeted vasudeva, who had followed him. and when he looked into vasudeva's friendly face, into the small wrinkles, which were as if they were filled with nothing but his smile, into the happy eyes, then he smiled too. now he saw the bananas lying in front of him, picked them up, gave one to the ferryman, ate the other one himself. after this, he silently went back into the forest with vasudeva, returned home to the ferry. neither one talked about what had happened today, neither one mentioned the boy's name, neither one spoke about him running away, neither one spoke about the wound. in the hut, siddhartha lay down on his bed, and when after a while vasudeva came to him, to offer him a bowl of coconut-milk, he already found him asleep. om for a long time, the wound continued to burn. many a traveller siddhartha had to ferry across the river who was accompanied by a son or a daughter, and he saw none of them without envying him, without thinking: "so many, so many thousands possess this sweetest of good fortunes--why don't i? even bad people, even thieves and robbers have children and love them, and are being loved by them, all except for me." thus simply, thus without reason he now thought, thus similar to the childlike people he had become. differently than before, he now looked upon people, less smart, less proud, but instead warmer, more curious, more involved. when he ferried travellers of the ordinary kind, childlike people, businessmen, warriors, women, these people did not seem alien to him as they used to: he understood them, he understood and shared their life, which was not guided by thoughts and insight, but solely by urges and wishes, he felt like them. though he was near perfection and was bearing his final wound, it still seemed to him as if those childlike people were his brothers, their vanities, desires for possession, and ridiculous aspects were no longer ridiculous to him, became understandable, became lovable, even became worthy of veneration to him. the blind love of a mother for her child, the stupid, blind pride of a conceited father for his only son, the blind, wild desire of a young, vain woman for jewelry and admiring glances from men, all of these urges, all of this childish stuff, all of these simple, foolish, but immensely strong, strongly living, strongly prevailing urges and desires were now no childish notions for siddhartha any more, he saw people living for their sake, saw them achieving infinitely much for their sake, travelling, conducting wars, suffering infinitely much, bearing infinitely much, and he could love them for it, he saw life, that what is alive, the indestructible, the brahman in each of their passions, each of their acts. worthy of love and admiration were these people in their blind loyalty, their blind strength and tenacity. they lacked nothing, there was nothing the knowledgeable one, the thinker, had to put him above them except for one little thing, a single, tiny, small thing: the consciousness, the conscious thought of the oneness of all life. and siddhartha even doubted in many an hour, whether this knowledge, this thought was to be valued thus highly, whether it might not also perhaps be a childish idea of the thinking people, of the thinking and childlike people. in all other respects, the worldly people were of equal rank to the wise men, were often far superior to them, just as animals too can, after all, in some moments, seem to be superior to humans in their tough, unrelenting performance of what is necessary. slowly blossomed, slowly ripened in siddhartha the realisation, the knowledge, what wisdom actually was, what the goal of his long search was. it was nothing but a readiness of the soul, an ability, a secret art, to think every moment, while living his life, the thought of oneness, to be able to feel and inhale the oneness. slowly this blossomed in him, was shining back at him from vasudeva's old, childlike face: harmony, knowledge of the eternal perfection of the world, smiling, oneness. but the wound still burned, longingly and bitterly siddhartha thought of his son, nurtured his love and tenderness in his heart, allowed the pain to gnaw at him, committed all foolish acts of love. not by itself, this flame would go out. and one day, when the wound burned violently, siddhartha ferried across the river, driven by a yearning, got off the boat and was willing to go to the city and to look for his son. the river flowed softly and quietly, it was the dry season, but its voice sounded strange: it laughed! it laughed clearly. the river laughed, it laughed brightly and clearly at the old ferryman. siddhartha stopped, he bent over the water, in order to hear even better, and he saw his face reflected in the quietly moving waters, and in this reflected face there was something, which reminded him, something he had forgotten, and as he thought about it, he found it: this face resembled another face, which he used to know and love and also fear. it resembled his father's face, the brahman. and he remembered how he, a long time ago, as a young man, had forced his father to let him go to the penitents, how he had bid his farewell to him, how he had gone and had never come back. had his father not also suffered the same pain for him, which he now suffered for his son? had his father not long since died, alone, without having seen his son again? did he not have to expect the same fate for himself? was it not a comedy, a strange and stupid matter, this repetition, this running around in a fateful circle? the river laughed. yes, so it was, everything came back, which had not been suffered and solved up to its end, the same pain was suffered over and over again. but siddhartha want back into the boat and ferried back to the hut, thinking of his father, thinking of his son, laughed at by the river, at odds with himself, tending towards despair, and not less tending towards laughing along at himself and the entire world. alas, the wound was not blossoming yet, his heart was still fighting his fate, cheerfulness and victory were not yet shining from his suffering. nevertheless, he felt hope, and once he had returned to the hut, he felt an undefeatable desire to open up to vasudeva, to show him everything, the master of listening, to say everything. vasudeva was sitting in the hut and weaving a basket. he no longer used the ferry-boat, his eyes were starting to get weak, and not just his eyes; his arms and hands as well. unchanged and flourishing was only the joy and the cheerful benevolence of his face. siddhartha sat down next to the old man, slowly he started talking. what they had never talked about, he now told him of, of his walk to the city, at that time, of the burning wound, of his envy at the sight of happy fathers, of his knowledge of the foolishness of such wishes, of his futile fight against them. he reported everything, he was able to say everything, even the most embarrassing parts, everything could be said, everything shown, everything he could tell. he presented his wound, also told how he fled today, how he ferried across the water, a childish run-away, willing to walk to the city, how the river had laughed. while he spoke, spoke for a long time, while vasudeva was listening with a quiet face, vasudeva's listening gave siddhartha a stronger sensation than ever before, he sensed how his pain, his fears flowed over to him, how his secret hope flowed over, came back at him from his counterpart. to show his wound to this listener was the same as bathing it in the river, until it had cooled and become one with the river. while he was still speaking, still admitting and confessing, siddhartha felt more and more that this was no longer vasudeva, no longer a human being, who was listening to him, that this motionless listener was absorbing his confession into himself like a tree the rain, that this motionless man was the river itself, that he was god himself, that he was the eternal itself. and while siddhartha stopped thinking of himself and his wound, this realisation of vasudeva's changed character took possession of him, and the more he felt it and entered into it, the less wondrous it became, the more he realised that everything was in order and natural, that vasudeva had already been like this for a long time, almost forever, that only he had not quite recognised it, yes, that he himself had almost reached the same state. he felt, that he was now seeing old vasudeva as the people see the gods, and that this could not last; in his heart, he started bidding his farewell to vasudeva. throughout all this, he talked incessantly. when he had finished talking, vasudeva turned his friendly eyes, which had grown slightly weak, at him, said nothing, let his silent love and cheerfulness, understanding and knowledge, shine at him. he took siddhartha's hand, led him to the seat by the bank, sat down with him, smiled at the river. "you've heard it laugh," he said. "but you haven't heard everything. let's listen, you'll hear more." they listened. softly sounded the river, singing in many voices. siddhartha looked into the water, and images appeared to him in the moving water: his father appeared, lonely, mourning for his son; he himself appeared, lonely, he also being tied with the bondage of yearning to his distant son; his son appeared, lonely as well, the boy, greedily rushing along the burning course of his young wishes, each one heading for his goal, each one obsessed by the goal, each one suffering. the river sang with a voice of suffering, longingly it sang, longingly, it flowed towards its goal, lamentingly its voice sang. "do you hear?" vasudeva's mute gaze asked. siddhartha nodded. "listen better!" vasudeva whispered. siddhartha made an effort to listen better. the image of his father, his own image, the image of his son merged, kamala's image also appeared and was dispersed, and the image of govinda, and other images, and they merged with each other, turned all into the river, headed all, being the river, for the goal, longing, desiring, suffering, and the river's voice sounded full of yearning, full of burning woe, full of unsatisfiable desire. for the goal, the river was heading, siddhartha saw it hurrying, the river, which consisted of him and his loved ones and of all people, he had ever seen, all of these waves and waters were hurrying, suffering, towards goals, many goals, the waterfall, the lake, the rapids, the sea, and all goals were reached, and every goal was followed by a new one, and the water turned into vapour and rose to the sky, turned into rain and poured down from the sky, turned into a source, a stream, a river, headed forward once again, flowed on once again. but the longing voice had changed. it still resounded, full of suffering, searching, but other voices joined it, voices of joy and of suffering, good and bad voices, laughing and sad ones, a hundred voices, a thousand voices. siddhartha listened. he was now nothing but a listener, completely concentrated on listening, completely empty, he felt, that he had now finished learning to listen. often before, he had heard all this, these many voices in the river, today it sounded new. already, he could no longer tell the many voices apart, not the happy ones from the weeping ones, not the ones of children from those of men, they all belonged together, the lamentation of yearning and the laughter of the knowledgeable one, the scream of rage and the moaning of the dying ones, everything was one, everything was intertwined and connected, entangled a thousand times. and everything together, all voices, all goals, all yearning, all suffering, all pleasure, all that was good and evil, all of this together was the world. all of it together was the flow of events, was the music of life. and when siddhartha was listening attentively to this river, this song of a thousand voices, when he neither listened to the suffering nor the laughter, when he did not tie his soul to any particular voice and submerged his self into it, but when he heard them all, perceived the whole, the oneness, then the great song of the thousand voices consisted of a single word, which was om: the perfection. "do you hear," vasudeva's gaze asked again. brightly, vasudeva's smile was shining, floating radiantly over all the wrinkles of his old face, as the om was floating in the air over all the voices of the river. brightly his smile was shining, when he looked at his friend, and brightly the same smile was now starting to shine on siddhartha's face as well. his wound blossomed, his suffering was shining, his self had flown into the oneness. in this hour, siddhartha stopped fighting his fate, stopped suffering. on his face flourished the cheerfulness of a knowledge, which is no longer opposed by any will, which knows perfection, which is in agreement with the flow of events, with the current of life, full of sympathy for the pain of others, full of sympathy for the pleasure of others, devoted to the flow, belonging to the oneness. when vasudeva rose from the seat by the bank, when he looked into siddhartha's eyes and saw the cheerfulness of the knowledge shining in them, he softly touched his shoulder with his hand, in this careful and tender manner, and said: "i've been waiting for this hour, my dear. now that it has come, let me leave. for a long time, i've been waiting for this hour; for a long time, i've been vasudeva the ferryman. now it's enough. farewell, hut, farewell, river, farewell, siddhartha!" siddhartha made a deep bow before him who bid his farewell. "i've known it," he said quietly. "you'll go into the forests?" "i'm going into the forests, i'm going into the oneness," spoke vasudeva with a bright smile. with a bright smile, he left; siddhartha watched him leaving. with deep joy, with deep solemnity he watched him leave, saw his steps full of peace, saw his head full of lustre, saw his body full of light. govinda together with other monks, govinda used to spend the time of rest between pilgrimages in the pleasure-grove, which the courtesan kamala had given to the followers of gotama for a gift. he heard talk of an old ferryman, who lived one day's journey away by the river, and who was regarded as a wise man by many. when govinda went back on his way, he chose the path to the ferry, eager to see the ferryman. because, though he had lived his entire life by the rules, though he was also looked upon with veneration by the younger monks on account of his age and his modesty, the restlessness and the searching still had not perished from his heart. he came to the river and asked the old man to ferry him over, and when they got off the boat on the other side, he said to the old man: "you're very good to us monks and pilgrims, you have already ferried many of us across the river. aren't you too, ferryman, a searcher for the right path?" quoth siddhartha, smiling from his old eyes: "do you call yourself a searcher, oh venerable one, though you are already of an old in years and are wearing the robe of gotama's monks?" "it's true, i'm old," spoke govinda, "but i haven't stopped searching. never i'll stop searching, this seems to be my destiny. you too, so it seems to me, have been searching. would you like to tell me something, oh honourable one?" quoth siddhartha: "what should i possibly have to tell you, oh venerable one? perhaps that you're searching far too much? that in all that searching, you don't find the time for finding?" "how come?" asked govinda. "when someone is searching," said siddhartha, "then it might easily happen that the only thing his eyes still see is that what he searches for, that he is unable to find anything, to let anything enter his mind, because he always thinks of nothing but the object of his search, because he has a goal, because he is obsessed by the goal. searching means: having a goal. but finding means: being free, being open, having no goal. you, oh venerable one, are perhaps indeed a searcher, because, striving for your goal, there are many things you don't see, which are directly in front of your eyes." "i don't quite understand yet," asked govinda, "what do you mean by this?" quoth siddhartha: "a long time ago, oh venerable one, many years ago, you've once before been at this river and have found a sleeping man by the river, and have sat down with him to guard his sleep. but, oh govinda, you did not recognise the sleeping man." astonished, as if he had been the object of a magic spell, the monk looked into the ferryman's eyes. "are you siddhartha?" he asked with a timid voice. "i wouldn't have recognised you this time as well! from my heart, i'm greeting you, siddhartha; from my heart, i'm happy to see you once again! you've changed a lot, my friend.--and so you've now become a ferryman?" in a friendly manner, siddhartha laughed. "a ferryman, yes. many people, govinda, have to change a lot, have to wear many a robe, i am one of those, my dear. be welcome, govinda, and spend the night in my hut." govinda stayed the night in the hut and slept on the bed which used to be vasudeva's bed. many questions he posed to the friend of his youth, many things siddhartha had to tell him from his life. when in the next morning the time had come to start the day's journey, govinda said, not without hesitation, these words: "before i'll continue on my path, siddhartha, permit me to ask one more question. do you have a teaching? do you have a faith, or a knowledge, you follow, which helps you to live and to do right?" quoth siddhartha: "you know, my dear, that i already as a young man, in those days when we lived with the penitents in the forest, started to distrust teachers and teachings and to turn my back to them. i have stuck with this. nevertheless, i have had many teachers since then. a beautiful courtesan has been my teacher for a long time, and a rich merchant was my teacher, and some gamblers with dice. once, even a follower of buddha, travelling on foot, has been my teacher; he sat with me when i had fallen asleep in the forest, on the pilgrimage. i've also learned from him, i'm also grateful to him, very grateful. but most of all, i have learned here from this river and from my predecessor, the ferryman vasudeva. he was a very simple person, vasudeva, he was no thinker, but he knew what is necessary just as well as gotama, he was a perfect man, a saint." govinda said: "still, oh siddhartha, you love a bit to mock people, as it seems to me. i believe in you and know that you haven't followed a teacher. but haven't you found something by yourself, though you've found no teachings, you still found certain thoughts, certain insights, which are your own and which help you to live? if you would like to tell me some of these, you would delight my heart." quoth siddhartha: "i've had thoughts, yes, and insight, again and again. sometimes, for an hour or for an entire day, i have felt knowledge in me, as one would feel life in one's heart. there have been many thoughts, but it would be hard for me to convey them to you. look, my dear govinda, this is one of my thoughts, which i have found: wisdom cannot be passed on. wisdom which a wise man tries to pass on to someone always sounds like foolishness." "are you kidding?" asked govinda. "i'm not kidding. i'm telling you what i've found. knowledge can be conveyed, but not wisdom. it can be found, it can be lived, it is possible to be carried by it, miracles can be performed with it, but it cannot be expressed in words and taught. this was what i, even as a young man, sometimes suspected, what has driven me away from the teachers. i have found a thought, govinda, which you'll again regard as a joke or foolishness, but which is my best thought. it says: the opposite of every truth is just as true! that's like this: any truth can only be expressed and put into words when it is one-sided. everything is one-sided which can be thought with thoughts and said with words, it's all one-sided, all just one half, all lacks completeness, roundness, oneness. when the exalted gotama spoke in his teachings of the world, he had to divide it into sansara and nirvana, into deception and truth, into suffering and salvation. it cannot be done differently, there is no other way for him who wants to teach. but the world itself, what exists around us and inside of us, is never one-sided. a person or an act is never entirely sansara or entirely nirvana, a person is never entirely holy or entirely sinful. it does really seem like this, because we are subject to deception, as if time was something real. time is not real, govinda, i have experienced this often and often again. and if time is not real, then the gap which seems to be between the world and the eternity, between suffering and blissfulness, between evil and good, is also a deception." "how come?" asked govinda timidly. "listen well, my dear, listen well! the sinner, which i am and which you are, is a sinner, but in times to come he will be brahma again, he will reach the nirvana, will be buddha--and now see: these 'times to come' are a deception, are only a parable! the sinner is not on his way to become a buddha, he is not in the process of developing, though our capacity for thinking does not know how else to picture these things. no, within the sinner is now and today already the future buddha, his future is already all there, you have to worship in him, in you, in everyone the buddha which is coming into being, the possible, the hidden buddha. the world, my friend govinda, is not imperfect, or on a slow path towards perfection: no, it is perfect in every moment, all sin already carries the divine forgiveness in itself, all small children already have the old person in themselves, all infants already have death, all dying people the eternal life. it is not possible for any person to see how far another one has already progressed on his path; in the robber and dice-gambler, the buddha is waiting; in the brahman, the robber is waiting. in deep meditation, there is the possibility to put time out of existence, to see all life which was, is, and will be as if it was simultaneous, and there everything is good, everything is perfect, everything is brahman. therefore, i see whatever exists as good, death is to me like life, sin like holiness, wisdom like foolishness, everything has to be as it is, everything only requires my consent, only my willingness, my loving agreement, to be good for me, to do nothing but work for my benefit, to be unable to ever harm me. i have experienced on my body and on my soul that i needed sin very much, i needed lust, the desire for possessions, vanity, and needed the most shameful despair, in order to learn how to give up all resistance, in order to learn how to love the world, in order to stop comparing it to some world i wished, i imagined, some kind of perfection i had made up, but to leave it as it is and to love it and to enjoy being a part of it.--these, oh govinda, are some of the thoughts which have come into my mind." siddhartha bent down, picked up a stone from the ground, and weighed it in his hand. "this here," he said playing with it, "is a stone, and will, after a certain time, perhaps turn into soil, and will turn from soil into a plant or animal or human being. in the past, i would have said: this stone is just a stone, it is worthless, it belongs to the world of the maja; but because it might be able to become also a human being and a spirit in the cycle of transformations, therefore i also grant it importance. thus, i would perhaps have thought in the past. but today i think: this stone is a stone, it is also animal, it is also god, it is also buddha, i do not venerate and love it because it could turn into this or that, but rather because it is already and always everything-- and it is this very fact, that it is a stone, that it appears to me now and today as a stone, this is why i love it and see worth and purpose in each of its veins and cavities, in the yellow, in the gray, in the hardness, in the sound it makes when i knock at it, in the dryness or wetness of its surface. there are stones which feel like oil or soap, and others like leaves, others like sand, and every one is special and prays the om in its own way, each one is brahman, but simultaneously and just as much it is a stone, is oily or juicy, and this is this very fact which i like and regard as wonderful and worthy of worship.--but let me speak no more of this. the words are not good for the secret meaning, everything always becomes a bit different, as soon as it is put into words, gets distorted a bit, a bit silly--yes, and this is also very good, and i like it a lot, i also very much agree with this, that this what is one man's treasure and wisdom always sounds like foolishness to another person." govinda listened silently. "why have you told me this about the stone?" he asked hesitantly after a pause. "i did it without any specific intention. or perhaps what i meant was, that love this very stone, and the river, and all these things we are looking at and from which we can learn. i can love a stone, govinda, and also a tree or a piece of bark. this are things, and things can be loved. but i cannot love words. therefore, teachings are no good for me, they have no hardness, no softness, no colours, no edges, no smell, no taste, they have nothing but words. perhaps it are these which keep you from finding peace, perhaps it are the many words. because salvation and virtue as well, sansara and nirvana as well, are mere words, govinda. there is no thing which would be nirvana; there is just the word nirvana." quoth govinda: "not just a word, my friend, is nirvana. it is a thought." siddhartha continued: "a thought, it might be so. i must confess to you, my dear: i don't differentiate much between thoughts and words. to be honest, i also have no high opinion of thoughts. i have a better opinion of things. here on this ferry-boat, for instance, a man has been my predecessor and teacher, a holy man, who has for many years simply believed in the river, nothing else. he had noticed that the river's spoke to him, he learned from it, it educated and taught him, the river seemed to be a god to him, for many years he did not know that every wind, every cloud, every bird, every beetle was just as divine and knows just as much and can teach just as much as the worshipped river. but when this holy man went into the forests, he knew everything, knew more than you and me, without teachers, without books, only because he had believed in the river." govinda said: "but is that what you call `things', actually something real, something which has existence? isn't it just a deception of the maja, just an image and illusion? your stone, your tree, your river-- are they actually a reality?" "this too," spoke siddhartha, "i do not care very much about. let the things be illusions or not, after all i would then also be an illusion, and thus they are always like me. this is what makes them so dear and worthy of veneration for me: they are like me. therefore, i can love them. and this is now a teaching you will laugh about: love, oh govinda, seems to me to be the most important thing of all. to thoroughly understand the world, to explain it, to despise it, may be the thing great thinkers do. but i'm only interested in being able to love the world, not to despise it, not to hate it and me, to be able to look upon it and me and all beings with love and admiration and great respect." "this i understand," spoke govinda. "but this very thing was discovered by the exalted one to be a deception. he commands benevolence, clemency, sympathy, tolerance, but not love; he forbade us to tie our heart in love to earthly things." "i know it," said siddhartha; his smile shone golden. "i know it, govinda. and behold, with this we are right in the middle of the thicket of opinions, in the dispute about words. for i cannot deny, my words of love are in a contradiction, a seeming contradiction with gotama's words. for this very reason, i distrust in words so much, for i know, this contradiction is a deception. i know that i am in agreement with gotama. how should he not know love, he, who has discovered all elements of human existence in their transitoriness, in their meaninglessness, and yet loved people thus much, to use a long, laborious life only to help them, to teach them! even with him, even with your great teacher, i prefer the thing over the words, place more importance on his acts and life than on his speeches, more on the gestures of his hand than his opinions. not in his speech, not in his thoughts, i see his greatness, only in his actions, in his life." for a long time, the two old men said nothing. then spoke govinda, while bowing for a farewell: "i thank you, siddhartha, for telling me some of your thoughts. they are partially strange thoughts, not all have been instantly understandable to me. this being as it may, i thank you, and i wish you to have calm days." (but secretly he thought to himself: this siddhartha is a bizarre person, he expresses bizarre thoughts, his teachings sound foolish. so differently sound the exalted one's pure teachings, clearer, purer, more comprehensible, nothing strange, foolish, or silly is contained in them. but different from his thoughts seemed to me siddhartha's hands and feet, his eyes, his forehead, his breath, his smile, his greeting, his walk. never again, after our exalted gotama has become one with the nirvana, never since then have i met a person of whom i felt: this is a holy man! only him, this siddhartha, i have found to be like this. may his teachings be strange, may his words sound foolish; out of his gaze and his hand, his skin and his hair, out of every part of him shines a purity, shines a calmness, shines a cheerfulness and mildness and holiness, which i have seen in no other person since the final death of our exalted teacher.) as govinda thought like this, and there was a conflict in his heart, he once again bowed to siddhartha, drawn by love. deeply he bowed to him who was calmly sitting. "siddhartha," he spoke, "we have become old men. it is unlikely for one of us to see the other again in this incarnation. i see, beloved, that you have found peace. i confess that i haven't found it. tell me, oh honourable one, one more word, give me something on my way which i can grasp, which i can understand! give me something to be with me on my path. it is often hard, my path, often dark, siddhartha." siddhartha said nothing and looked at him with the ever unchanged, quiet smile. govinda stared at his face, with fear, with yearning, suffering, and the eternal search was visible in his look, eternal not-finding. siddhartha saw it and smiled. "bend down to me!" he whispered quietly in govinda's ear. "bend down to me! like this, even closer! very close! kiss my forehead, govinda!" but while govinda with astonishment, and yet drawn by great love and expectation, obeyed his words, bent down closely to him and touched his forehead with his lips, something miraculous happened to him. while his thoughts were still dwelling on siddhartha's wondrous words, while he was still struggling in vain and with reluctance to think away time, to imagine nirvana and sansara as one, while even a certain contempt for the words of his friend was fighting in him against an immense love and veneration, this happened to him: he no longer saw the face of his friend siddhartha, instead he saw other faces, many, a long sequence, a flowing river of faces, of hundreds, of thousands, which all came and disappeared, and yet all seemed to be there simultaneously, which all constantly changed and renewed themselves, and which were still all siddhartha. he saw the face of a fish, a carp, with an infinitely painfully opened mouth, the face of a dying fish, with fading eyes--he saw the face of a new-born child, red and full of wrinkles, distorted from crying--he saw the face of a murderer, he saw him plunging a knife into the body of another person--he saw, in the same second, this criminal in bondage, kneeling and his head being chopped off by the executioner with one blow of his sword--he saw the bodies of men and women, naked in positions and cramps of frenzied love--he saw corpses stretched out, motionless, cold, void-- he saw the heads of animals, of boars, of crocodiles, of elephants, of bulls, of birds--he saw gods, saw krishna, saw agni--he saw all of these figures and faces in a thousand relationships with one another, each one helping the other, loving it, hating it, destroying it, giving re-birth to it, each one was a will to die, a passionately painful confession of transitoriness, and yet none of them died, each one only transformed, was always re-born, received evermore a new face, without any time having passed between the one and the other face--and all of these figures and faces rested, flowed, generated themselves, floated along and merged with each other, and they were all constantly covered by something thin, without individuality of its own, but yet existing, like a thin glass or ice, like a transparent skin, a shell or mold or mask of water, and this mask was smiling, and this mask was siddhartha's smiling face, which he, govinda, in this very same moment touched with his lips. and, govinda saw it like this, this smile of the mask, this smile of oneness above the flowing forms, this smile of simultaneousness above the thousand births and deaths, this smile of siddhartha was precisely the same, was precisely of the same kind as the quiet, delicate, impenetrable, perhaps benevolent, perhaps mocking, wise, thousand-fold smile of gotama, the buddha, as he had seen it himself with great respect a hundred times. like this, govinda knew, the perfected ones are smiling. not knowing any more whether time existed, whether the vision had lasted a second or a hundred years, not knowing any more whether there existed a siddhartha, a gotama, a me and a you, feeling in his innermost self as if he had been wounded by a divine arrow, the injury of which tasted sweet, being enchanted and dissolved in his innermost self, govinda still stood for a little while bent over siddhartha's quiet face, which he had just kissed, which had just been the scene of all manifestations, all transformations, all existence. the face was unchanged, after under its surface the depth of the thousandfoldness had closed up again, he smiled silently, smiled quietly and softly, perhaps very benevolently, perhaps very mockingly, precisely as he used to smile, the exalted one. deeply, govinda bowed; tears he knew nothing of, ran down his old face; like a fire burnt the feeling of the most intimate love, the humblest veneration in his heart. deeply, he bowed, touching the ground, before him who was sitting motionlessly, whose smile reminded him of everything he had ever loved in his life, what had ever been valuable and holy to him in his life. trÜbner's oriental series. the life or legend of gaudama _the buddha of the burmes_ with annotations. the ways to neibban, and notice on the phongyies or burmese monks. by the right reverend p. bigandet, bishop of ramatha, vicar apostolic of ava and pegu _in two volumes._ vol. i. fourth edition. london: kegan paul, trench, trÜbner & co. ltd. dryden house, gerrard street, w. . _the rights of translation and of reproduction are reserved._ printed by ballantyne, hanson & co. at the ballantyne press, edinburgh advertisement to third edition. the origin of the present work dates back to the years , , , and , when portions of it appeared in the "journal of the indian archipelago and eastern asia," edited by j. r. logan of penang (vols. vi., vii., viii., and ix.). the first complete edition was printed at rangoon in burmah in , and a second, much enlarged, at the same place in . very few copies of either of these editions reached europe, and both are entirely out of print. the present third edition--a faithful reprint of the second--issued, with bishop bigandet's sanction, for the benefit of european and american scholars and readers, will, therefore, it is hoped, be gladly received. buddhism and gautama, the faith and its founder, whose followers are between four and five hundred millions of the human race, were comparatively unknown in europe but a generation ago, and yet this great faith had continued for four and twenty centuries to spread over the vast lands of the east, taking deep and enduring root in all, from bhotan, nepaul, and ceylon, over further india to china proper, mongolia, mantchooria, tibet, and japan. buddhism, as it is found in burmah, has a particular claim to the attention of a diligent and attentive observer. we there have that religious creed or system as pure from adulteration as it can be after a lapse of so many centuries. philosophy never flourished in burmah, and, therefore, never modified the religious systems of the country. hinduism never exercised any influence on the banks of the irrawaddy. chinese and burmese have often met on battlefields, but the influence of the middle kingdom has never established itself in burmah. in other words, chinese buddhism has never been able to penetrate into the customs and manners of the people, and has not attempted to communicate its own religion to its southern neighbours. it would seem that the true form of buddhism is to be found in burmah, and that a knowledge of that system can only be arrived at by the study of the religious books of burmah, and by attentively observing the religious practices and ceremonies of the people. this is what bishop bigandet has endeavoured to do throughout his work. mr. alabaster, the author of a very popular work on siamese buddhism, testifies to the great value of the bishop's work, which, he remarks, is in one sense complete, for whereas the siamese manuscript concludes with the attainment of omniscience, the bishop had materials which enabled him to continue the story to the death of nirwana (neibban in the burmese pali form). he might have added that the work modestly entitled "life of gaudama" is a complete exposition of the great system of eastern asia. the metaphysical part, which is the very essence of the system, has received a due consideration, and the body of religious has been fully described. moreover, the foot-notes help the ordinary reader in understanding clearly the text of the legend. professor albrecht weber speaks also of the bishop's work in terms of high commendation (see "literarisches centralblatt," , no. , reprinted in "indische streifen," vol. iii.), whilst a still further testimony is accorded to its importance in the recent appearance of a french translation by lieutenant victor gauvain. london, _december_ . preface to the first edition. whether buddhism be viewed in its extent and diffusion, or in the complex nature of its doctrines, it claims the serious attention of every inquiring mind. in our own days it is, under different forms, the creed prevailing in nepaul, thibet, mongolia, corea, china, the japanese archipelago, anam, cambodia, siam, the shan states, burmah, arracan, and ceylon. its sway extends over nearly one-fourth of the human race. though based upon capital and revolting errors, buddhism teaches a surprising number of the finest precepts and purest moral truths. from the abyss of its almost unfathomable darkness it sends forth rays of the brightest hue. to the reflecting mind, the study of this religious system becomes the study of the history of one of the greatest religious enterprises that has ever been undertaken to elevate our nature above its low level, by uprooting the passions of the heart and dispelling the errors of the mind. a serious observer sees at a glance the dark and humiliating picture of the sad and barren results of the greatest and mightiest efforts of human wisdom, in its endeavours to find out the real cause of all human miseries, and to provide the remedies to cure the moral distempers to which our nature is subject. the fact of man's wretched and fallen condition was clearly perceived by the buddhist philosopher, but he failed in his attempts to help man out of the difficulties which encompass him in all directions, and to bring him back to the path of truth and salvation. the efforts begun on the banks of the ganges at an early period, and carried on with the greatest ardour and perseverance, have proved as abortive as those made at a later period throughout greece and italy by the greatest and brightest geniuses of antiquity. what a grand and irresistible demonstration both of the absolute inability of man to rescue from evil and attain good, and of the indispensable necessity of divine interference to help him in accomplishing that twofold achievement! it may be said in favour of buddhism, that no philosophico-religious system has ever upheld, to an equal degree, the notions of a saviour and deliverer, and of the necessity of his mission for procuring the salvation, in a buddhist sense, of man. the _rôle_ of buddha, from beginning to end, is that of a deliverer, who preaches a law designed to secure to man deliverance from all the miseries under which he is labouring. but by an inexplicable and deplorable eccentricity, the pretended saviour, after having taught man the way to deliver himself from the tyranny of his passions, only leads him, after all, into the bottomless gulf of total annihilation. buddhism, such as we find it in burmah, appears to have retained, to a great extent, its original character and primitive genuineness, exhibiting, as it does, the most correct forms and features of that protean creed. at the epoch the burmans left the northern valleys and settled in the country they now inhabit, they were a half-civilised mongolian tribe, with no kind of worship, except a sort of geniolatry, much similar to what we see now existing among the various tribes bordering on burmah. they were in the same condition when the first buddhist missionaries arrived among them. deposited in this almost virginal soil, the seed of buddhism grew up freely without encountering any obstacle to check its growth. philosophy, which, in its too often erratic rambles in search of truth, changes, corrects, improves, destroys, and, in numberless ways, modifies all that it meets, never flourished in these parts; and, therefore, did not work on the religious institutions, which accordingly have remained up to this day nearly the same as they were when first imported into burmah. the free discussion of religious and moral subjects, which constituted the very life of the indian schools, and begat so many various, incoherent, and contradictory opinions on the most essential points of religion and philosophy, is the sign of an advanced state of civilisation, such as does not appear to have ever existed on the banks of the irrawaddy. owing to its geographical position, and perhaps, also, to political causes, burmah has ever remained out of the reach of hindu influence, which in nepaul has coloured buddhism with hindu myths, and habited it in gross forms of idolatry. in china, where there already subsisted at the time of the arrival of the preachers of the new doctrine the worship of heroes and ancestors, buddhism, like an immense parasitic plant, extended itself all over the institutions which it covered rather than destroyed, allowing the ancient forms to subsist under the disguise it afforded them. but such was not the state of burmah when visited by the first heralds of buddhism. the epoch of the introduction of buddhism in burmah has hitherto been a matter of conjecture. according to burmese annals, boudha-gautha, at the end of the fourth century of our era, brought from ceylon a copy of the scriptures, and did for burmah what fa-hian, the chinese pilgrim, accomplished a few years afterwards in india and ceylon for the benefit of his country. but burmans maintain that they were followers of buddha long before that epoch. if an inference may be drawn from analogy, it is probable that they are right in their assertion. china is fully as far from the ancient seat of buddhism as burmah. yet it appears from the chinese annals that the doctrines of the indian philosopher were already propagated in some parts of that empire in the middle of the first century of our era, and probably at an earlier date. there is no improbability in concluding that, at least at the same time, buddhist missionaries had penetrated into this country to propagate their tenets. according to buddhistic annals, it was after the holding of the d council, after gaudama's death, b.c., that two missionaries carried religion to thaton, the ruins of which are still to be seen between the mouths of the tsitang and salween rivers, and established buddhism in pegu. be that as it may, we know, from the magnificent buddhist monuments of pagan, that that religion had reached, in the eleventh and twelfth centuries, a degree of splendour that has never since been equalled. the buddhist scriptures are divided into three great parts, the thoots or instructions, the wini or discipline, and the abidama or metaphysics. agreeably to this division, the matter of the following pages is arranged under three heads. the life of buddha, with some portions of his preaching, will convey notions of his principal teachings and doctrines. it is accompanied with copious annotations intended to explain the text, and to convey detailed notices of the system of buddhism in general, and particularly as it is found existing in burmah. we have added a few small dzats, or accounts of some of the former existences of gaudama, and the summary of two large ones. in the notice on the phongyies will be found the chief points of discipline fully explained and developed. we have endeavoured to render as complete as possible the account of the buddhist religious, or phongyies. it is an exposition and practical illustration of the highest results that can be obtained under the influence of the doctrines of the indian philosopher. in the ways to neibban an attempt has been made to set forth and unfold the chief points of metaphysics upon which hinges the whole religious system. we confess that the summary of metaphysics is rather concise. we were reluctant to proceed too far in this subject, which, to the generality of readers, is an uninviting one. a suggestion from captain h. hopkinson, commissioner of the martaban and tenasserim provinces, has induced us to add a few remarks on the names and situations of the principal towns and countries mentioned in the legend, with the view of identifying them with modern sites and places. it is hardly necessary to state here that the writer, when he undertook this work, had no other object in view than that of merely expounding the religious system of buddhism as it is, explaining its doctrines and practices as correctly as it was in his power to do, regardless of their merits and demerits. his information has been derived from the perusal of the religious books of the burmans, and from frequent conversations on religion, during several years, with the best informed among the laity and the religious whom he has had the chance of meeting. the surest way perhaps of coming to at least an exact and accurate knowledge of the history and doctrines of buddhism would be to give a translation of the legends of buddha, such as they are to be met with in all countries where buddhism has established its sway, and to accompany these translations with an exposition of the various doctrinal points, such as they are held, understood, and believed by these various nations. this has already been done by eminent orientalists, on thibetan, sanscrit, cingalese, and chinese originals. a similar work, executed by competent persons among the shans, siamese, cambodians, and cochin chinese, would considerably help the savants in europe, who have assumed the difficult task of expounding the buddhist system in its complex and multifarious forms, to give a full, general, and comprehensive view of that great religious creed with all its variations. the best way to undermine the foundations of a false creed and successfully attack it, is to lay it open to the eyes of all and exhibit it as it really is. error never retains its hold over the mind except under the mask of truth which it contrives to assume. when deprived of the mask that has covered its emptiness and unreality, it vanishes away as a phantom and an illusion. we are happy in having an opportunity of returning publicly our thanks to the worthy commissioner of pegu, major a. p. phayre, for his kind exertions in furthering the publication of this work. not only is he an eminent oriental scholar, and profoundly versed in all that has reference to buddhism, but his great delight is to encourage every effort that tends to unfold and explain a creed which, despite all that has been written about it in the several countries where it flourishes, still contains many mysteries in the parts relating to its history and doctrines that require clearing up. we have, with a deeply-felt distrust of our poor abilities, taken the best portion out of our limited stock of information concerning the buddhist system as it exists in these parts, and, with a willing heart, presented it to the public. we hope that our example may induce others, whose stores of knowledge on this subject are fuller and richer than ours, to act in a similar spirit in aid of the prosecution of a great object, viz., the acquisition of a correct knowledge of the religion of nearly , , of our fellow-men. rangoon, _october_ . preface to the second edition. the first edition of the life of gaudama being out of print for the last five or six years, we have, at the request of several highly esteemed persons, come to the determination of publishing a second and much-enlarged edition of the same work. in carrying on the plan of improvement which we had in contemplation, we have been favoured by a happy circumstance. we have, after much labour, found and procured, in the burmese capital, a very rare palm-leaf manuscript, the contents of which have supplied us with copies and interesting details respecting the sayings and doings of gaudama. the book is known under the pali name of tatha-gatha-oudana, the meaning of which is joyful utterance, or praises, of the tatha-gatha. the latter expression is one of the many titles given to gaudama: it means, he who has come like all his predecessors. in the opinion of buddhists, the buddhas who appear throughout the duration of a world, or in the various series of succeeding worlds, have all the same mission to accomplish; they are gifted with the same perfect science, and are filled with similar feelings of compassion for and benevolence towards all beings. hence the denomination which is fitly given to gaudama, the last of them. in the course of the work will be found some particulars concerning the author of the manuscript referred to, and the place where it was composed. we have only to state here that we have gathered therefrom much information on the condition of gaudama, previous to his last existence, on the origin of the kapilawot country, where he was born, and on the kings he has descended from. we have also met with many new details on the great intellectual working of gaudama's mind, during the forty-nine days he spent in meditation around the bodi-tree, particularly on the important theory of the twelve nidanas, or causes and effects, which, with the four sublime truths, constitutes the very essence of the system. we have also found many important particulars concerning the whereabouts of gaudama during the first twenty years of his public life, and the conversions he effected whilst engaged in the work of an itinerant preacher. here, too, we have gleaned and selected a few of the instructions he delivered to the people that crowded about him. the story of dewadat is narrated at great length. we have carefully written down what is said of the three assemblies, or councils, held at radzagio, wethalie, and pataliputra, and what is mentioned of the kings who reigned in magatha, from adzatathat to dammathoka. we have mentioned the great fact of the spread of buddhism beyond the boundaries of magatha after the holding of the third council, taking care to relate what we have found stated concerning its diffusion in pegu and burmah. numerous notes have been added to those of the first edition, for the purpose of elucidating and explaining, as far as we are able, the principles of buddhism and whatever is connected with that religious system. rangoon, _may_ . contents. legend or life of the burmese buddha, called gaudama. page chapter i. invocation of the burmese translator -- slow but steady progress of phralaong towards the buddhaship -- promise made to him by the buddha deipinkara -- origin and beginning of the kapilawot country and of its rulers -- birth of thoodaudana -- his marriage with the princess maia -- rumour of the coming birth of a buddha -- phralaong in the seats of nats -- dream of maia -- conception of phralaong -- wonders attending that event. chapter ii. birth of buddha in a forest -- rejoicings on that occasion -- kaladewila -- prediction of the pounhas -- vain efforts of thoodaudana to thwart the effect of the prediction. chapter iii. a name is given to the child -- prediction of the pounhas respecting the child -- death of maia -- miraculous occurrence at the child's cradle -- adolescence of the phralaong -- he sees the four signs -- return from the garden to the royal city. chapter iv. phralaong leaves his palace, the royal city, and retires into solitude amidst the plaudits of the nats -- he cuts his fine hair with a stroke of his sword, and puts on the habit of rahan -- he begs his food at radzagio -- his interview with the ruler of that place -- his studies under two rathees -- his fast and penances in the solitude of oorouwela during six years. chapter v. thoodzata's offering to phralaong -- his five dreams -- he shapes his course towards the gniaong tree -- miraculous appearance of a throne -- victory of phralaong over manh nat -- his meditations during forty-nine days near the bodi tree -- he at last obtains the perfect science -- he overcomes the temptations directed against him by the daughters of manh -- buddha preaches the law to a pounha and to two merchants. chapter vi. buddha hesitates to undertake the task of preaching the law -- the great brahma entreats him to preach the law to all beings -- his assent to the entreaties -- journey towards migadawon -- he meets ouppaka -- his first preachings -- conversion of a young nobleman named ratha, followed by that of his father and other relatives -- conversion of several other noblemen -- instructions to the rahans -- conversion of the three kathabas. chapter vii. buddha's sermon on the mountain -- interview of buddha and king pimpathara in the vicinity of the city of radzagio -- answer of kathaba to buddha's interrogation -- instructions delivered to the king and his attendants -- solemn entry of buddha into radzagio -- donation of the weloowon monastery to buddha -- conversion of thariputra and maukalan -- the rahans are keenly taunted by the people of radzagio. chapter viii. thoodaudana, desirous to see his son, sends messengers to him -- they become converts -- kaludari, a last messenger, prevails on buddha to go to kapilawot -- his reception -- conversion of the king and of yathaudara -- nanda and raoula put on the religious habit -- conversion of ananda and of several of his relatives -- temptation of ananda -- conversion of eggidatta -- story of tsampooka. chapter ix. a rich man of thawattie, named anatapein, becomes a convert -- story of dzewaka -- he cures buddha of a painful distemper -- the people of wethalie send a deputation to buddha -- digression on the manner buddha daily spent his time -- settling of a quarrel between the inhabitants of kaulia and those of kapilawot -- new converts are strengthened in their faith -- thoodaudana's death in the arms of his son -- queen patzapati and many noble ladies are elevated to the rank of rahaness -- conversion of kema, the first queen of king pimpathara -- heretics near thawattie are confounded by the display of miraculous powers -- buddha goes to the seat of tawadeintha, to preach the law to his mother. chapter x. buddha's proceedings in the seat of tawadeintha -- his triumphant return to the seat of men, in the city of thin-ka-tha -- he is calumniated by the heretics of thawattie -- eighth season spent in the forest of tesakala -- subsequent preachings -- he meets with a bad reception in the kothambi country -- dissension among the disciples -- reconciliation -- travels of buddha -- preaching to a pounha who tilled a field. chapter xi. voyage to tsalia -- instructions to meggia -- raoula is made a professed religious -- manahan's questions to buddha -- misbehaviour of thouppabuda -- questions proposed by nats in the dzetawon monastery -- conversion of a biloo -- episode of thirima at radzagio -- attention paid to a poor pounha and to a weaver's daughter, on account of their faith -- in the twentieth season, appointment of ananda to the stewardship -- conversion of a famous robber. chapter xii. buddha is slandered in thawattie -- questions put to him by a pounha -- story of anatapein's daughter -- conversion of a pounha whose navel emitted rays of light -- blank in a great part of buddha's life -- story of dewadat -- his jealousy towards buddha -- his friendship with prince adzatathat -- his ambition -- his attempt to kill buddha -- his miserable end. legend of the burmese buddha called gaudama. chapter i. _invocation of the burmese translator -- slow but steady progress of phralaong towards the buddhaship -- promise made to him by the buddha deipinkara -- origin and beginning of the kapilawot country and of its rulers -- birth of thoodaudana -- his marriage with the princess maia -- rumour of the coming birth of a buddha -- phralaong in the seat of nats -- dream of maia -- conception of phralaong -- wonders attending that event._ i adore[ ] buddha who has gloriously emerged from the bottomless whirlpool of endless existences, who has extinguished the burning fire of anger and other passions, who has opened and illuminated the fathomless abyss of dark ignorance, and who is the greatest and most excellent of all beings. i adore the law which the most excellent buddha has published, which is infinitely high and incomparably profound, exceedingly acceptable, and most earnestly wished-for by nats and men, capable to wipe off the stains of concupiscence, and is immutable. i adore the assembly of the perfect, of the pure and illustrious ariahs in their eight sublime states, who have overcome all the passions that torment other mortals, by eradicating the very root of concupiscence, and who are famous above all other beings. i undertake to translate from the pali[ ] text the history of our most excellent phra, from the period he left toocita,[ ] the fourth abode of nats, to the time he entered into the state of neibban. previous, however, to commencing the work, i will relate succinctly what is found in our books respecting the great being who, by a slow but sure process, was qualifying himself for his great and high destiny. it is stated that all the following particulars were narrated by gaudama himself to the great disciple thariputra. for seven thingies of worlds, he who was to become a buddha felt, during that immense number of revolutions of nature, a thought for the buddhaship awakening in his soul. this thought was succeeded by a wish, a desire, and a longing for that extraordinary calling. he began to understand that the practice of the virtues of the highest order was requisite to enable him to attain the glorious object of his ardent wishes, and no less than , buddhas appeared during that space of time. when the above period had at last come to an end, the inward workings of his soul prompted him to ask openly for the buddhaship. the period of asking lasted nine thingies of worlds. it was brightened and illustrated by the successive manifestation of , buddhas. in the beginning of this latter period, the future gaudama was a prince of the name of laukatara, ruler of the nanda country. at that time there appeared in the country of kapilawot a buddha called thakiamuni paurana gaudama. as he happened to travel through the nanda country, with the twofold object of preaching the law and begging for his food, the ruler laukatara made great offerings to him. meanwhile, with a marked earnestness, he solicited at the feet of thakiamuni the favour of becoming, at some future time, a buddha like himself. he expressed the wish to be born in the same country, from the same father and mother, to have for his wife the very same queen, to ride the same horse, to be attended by the same companions and the same two great disciples on the right and on the left. to this request thakiamuni replied in the affirmative, but he added that an immense length of time had still to elapse ere the objects of his petition could be fully granted. a similar application was repeatedly made to all the other succeeding buddhas, and a like promise was held out to him. the third period of four thingies of worlds was remarkable for the complete absence of all that could enlighten or illustrate the various states of existence. a complete moral and intellectual darkness was spread over all beings, and kept them wrapped up in utter darkness. no buddhas, no pitzekabuddhas appeared to illuminate by their doctrine and science the minds of men. no tsekiawade, or king of the world, made his appearance to infuse life and energy in the midst of the universal slumbering. but the hundred thousand revolutions of nature that followed were more fortunate. there flourished no less than twenty-seven buddhas, from tahingara, the first in the series, to kathaba, the last one immediately preceding gaudama. during the period when the buddha named deipinkara was the teacher of all beings, our future gaudama was born in the country of amarawatti, from illustrious and rich parents belonging to the caste of pounhas. while still a youth, he lost both his parents and inherited their property. in the midst of pleasure and plenty he one day made this reflection:--the riches that i now possess were my parents' property, but they have not been able to save them from the miseries attending death. they will not, alas! afford to me a better and more secure fate. when i go into the grave, they will not come along with me. this bodily frame i am clad in is not worthy to be pitied. why should i bestow signs of compassion upon it? filled with impurities, burdened by rottenness, it has all the elements of destruction in the compounded parts of its existence. towards neibban i will turn my regards; upon it my eyes shall be riveted. there is the tank in which all the impurities of passion may be washed away. now i will forsake everything, and go forthwith in search of a teacher that will point out to me the way that leads to the state neibban. full of these thoughts, the young man gave away to the needy all that he possessed, reserving nothing to himself. freed from the trammels of riches, he withdrew into a lonely place, where the nats had prepared beforehand all that was necessary to minister to his wants. he embraced the profession or mode of life of a rahan, or perfect. attired in the dress of his new profession, he lived for some time on this spot under the name of thoomeda. displeased, however, with the too easy mode of life he was leading, he left that spot, and contented himself with dwelling under the shade of trees. he, however, went forth from time to time in quest of his food. a few years previous to the retirement of thoomeda into solitude, he who was to be the buddha deipinkara migrated from one of the nats' seats, and was incarnated in the womb of the princess thoomeda, wife of thoodewa, king of the ramawatti country. subsequently he was married to the princess padouma, who bore unto him a son, named oothabakanda. on the same year in which the child was born, the king left his palace on an elephant's back, withdrew into some lonely place, practised during ten months all sorts of self-inflicted penances, and, under the shade of the tree gniaong kiat, became a buddha. on that occasion the earth quivered with great violence, but the hermit thoomeda, being in ecstasy at that moment, knew nothing of the extraordinary occurrence. on a certain day, deipinkara was travelling through the country for the twofold purpose of preaching the law and collecting his food. arrived near a place where the road was very bad, he stopped for a while until the road should be made passable. the people hastened from all parts to come and prepare the road for deipinkara and his followers. thoomeda, gifted with the privilege of travelling through the air, happened to pass over the spot where crowds of people were busily engaged in preparing and levelling a road. the hermit alighted on that spot, and inquired of the people what was the reason of their busy exertions. they told him that the most excellent deipinkara was expected with a large retinue of disciples, and that they strained every nerve to have the road ready for them. thoomeda begged to be permitted to bear a part in the good work, and asked that a certain extent of the road be assigned to him as his task. his request was granted, and he forthwith set to work with the greatest diligence. it was all but finished when buddha deipinkara, followed by forty thousand disciples, made his appearance. thoomeda, actuated by an ardent desire of testifying his respect to the holy personage, without a moment's hesitation flung himself into the hollow that was as yet not filled, and lying on his belly, with his back upwards, bridged the place, and entreated the buddha and his followers to cross the hollow by trampling over his body. great and abundant shall be the merits that i, said he within himself, shall gain by this good work. no doubt i will receive from the mouth of deipinkara the assurance that i shall, hereafter, obtain the buddhaship. the buddha, standing over him, admired the humble and fervent devotedness of thoomeda. with one glance he perceived all that was going on in the hermit's mind, and with a loud voice, that could be heard by all his disciples, he assured him that four thingies and one hundred thousand worlds hence he would become a buddha, the fourth that would appear during the world, called badda. he went on to describe minutely the principal events that were to illustrate his future career. no sooner was this revelation made to him than thoomeda hastened back to his forest. sitting at the foot of a tree, he encouraged himself by fine comparisons to the practice of those virtues that were best suited to weaken in him the influence of the passions. in the different existences that followed, thoomeda, at all the periods of the appearance of some buddhas, received a confirmation of the promise he had had from the lips of deipinkara. this present world we live in has been favoured above all others. already three buddhas have appeared, viz., kaukkasan, gaunagong, and kathaba. these all belonged to the caste of pounhas, and he who was to be hereafter our gaudama, during the many existences he passed through, at the time of the manifestations of those three buddhas, was always born of the same caste. kathaba is said to have lived and preached during the ninth andrakap. it was he who, for the last time, assured the future gaudama that he would obtain the buddhaship during the tenth andrakap. we will only mention his last existence in the seat of man, previous to the one in which he was to obtain the great prize he had laboured for with so much earnestness during innumerable existences. he became prince under the name of wethandra, and practised to an eminent, nay heroic, degree the virtues of liberality and charity. to such an extent did he obey the dictates of his liberal heart, that, after having given away all the royal treasures, his white elephant, &c., he did not shrink from parting with his own wife, the princess madi, and his two children, dzali and gahna. he then died and migrated to the toocita seat, and enjoyed the blissfulness and felicity of nats, under the name of saytakaytoo, during fifty-seven koudes of years. the origin and beginning of the kapilawot country, as well as of its rulers, are to be alluded to as briefly as possible. in the country of the middle, mitzimadesa, the kings that ruled from the time of mahathamadat to that of ookakaritz, king of benares, were , in number. the last-named monarch was married to five wives, and had children by them all. the first queen happening to die, the king became passionately enamoured of a young woman, whom he married. she soon presented him with a son, whom the king, pressed by his young wife's solicitations, declared heir-apparent, to the prejudice of his elder sons. as might have been expected, the four elder sons loudly complained of the preference given to their younger brother. to put an end to these domestic disputes, the king called his four sons and their five sisters, gave them a large retinue, and bade them go in a northerly direction, in search of a spot favourable for building a new city. they followed their father's advice. after long wandering through the forests, they came to a place where lived the rathee kapila, who, becoming acquainted with the object of their errand, desired them to stay with him and found a city. he also wished that on the very spot where his hut stood the king's palace should be erected. he predicted that this city would become great, powerful, and illustrious; that it would be a city of peace, since the animals in the forests lived peaceably, without ever attempting to inflict harm on each other. the proposal was cheerfully accepted. all the people set to work with great earnestness. when the work was completed, they offered the new city to kapila, who was made their teacher. hence the name of kapilawottoo, or kapilawot. the four princes, finding that among their followers there were no daughters of the royal race whom they could marry, resolved, in order to keep pure the blood-royal, to marry their four youngest sisters. the eldest one was raised to the dignity of queen-mother. ookamukka, the eldest of the brothers, was the first king of kapilawot. whilst these things were taking place, the king of benares, having been attacked with leprosy, had left his throne and retired to a forest north of his capital. there he found his cure under the shade of the kalau tree. at the same time the eldest sister, named peya, who had become queen-mother, was seized with the same distemper, and went into the same forest. she met with the king, whom she knew not. by his advice she sat under the kalau tree, and the beneficent smell of the leaves soon worked a perfect cure. they were subsequently married, and had a numerous progeny. they settled on this spot, and built the city of kaulya. the small river rohani flowed between kaulya and kapilawot.[a] [a] when laying before the reader a short and concise account of the being who was to become the buddha called gaudama, the writer deems it necessary to make a general observation, which, he hopes, will greatly help the reader to understand correctly several passages of the following pages. gaudama was a hindu, brought up by hindu masters, and initiated in all the knowledge possessed by the society he lived in. he accepted the fabulous genealogies of kings such as they were found in the writings of his days. the same may be said of the erroneous notions respecting our globe, the size and motions of the sun and the moon and other heavenly bodies, the explanations of many natural phenomena, the description of hell, of the seats of reward, &c. teacher as he was of moral precepts, based upon metaphysical principles, gaudama concerned himself very little about these things, which, in his eyes, were not worth the consideration of a sage. but he, or more probably his disciples, availed themselves of these notions for resting upon them some portions of their system, and giving them such developments as best suited their views. these notions, though wedded to the religious system originated by gaudama, do not, strictly speaking, belong to it. they existed before his appearance in the schools of philosophy; they formed a part of the stock of knowledge possessed by the society in which he was reared. to account properly for these particulars and many others belonging to the disciplinary regulations, recourse must be had to the study of the ancient religion of the hindus, brahminism. in the account of the foundation of the kapilawot city, we find that the practice of leaving the eldest sister unmarried, and of the princes marrying their own sisters, is up to this day observed by the royal family of burmah. the eldest daughter of the reigning monarch is to remain unmarried during her parents' life, and the first queen is often, if not always, the sister or half-sister of the king. the same unnatural practice prevailed in the royal family of the ancient persians. from ookamukka, the first king of kapilawot, to prince wethandra, there are but seven successive kings. from dzali, the son of wethandra, to dzeyathana, the great-grandfather of gaudama, there were , kings. let it be borne in mind, that, during that period of time, our phralaong, or future of gaudama, was in one of the nats' seats. the princes of kapilawot were wont to go and sport on the water of a lake somewhat distant from the city. they at first erected a temporary place of residence in the vicinity of that sheet of water, and finally built a city which received the name of dewaha. it had likewise its kings of the same thagiwi race. dzeyathana, the king of kapilawot, had a son named thiahanoo, and a daughter named yathaudara. aukaka, king of dewaha, his contemporary, had also a son and a daughter, eetzana and kitzana. thiahanoo was married to kitzana, who bore unto him five sons, thoodaudana, kanwaudana, thoukkaudana, thekkaudana, and amittaudana; and two daughters, amita and pilita. eetzana, the son of the king of dewa, married yathaudara, daughter of dzeyathana, king of kapilawot. from this marriage were born two sons, thoopabuddha and dantapani, and two daughters, maia and patzapati. when eetzana became king of dewaha, a considerable error had crept into the calendar. a correction was deemed necessary. there lived a celebrated hermit, or rathee, named deweela, well versed in the science of calculation. after several consultations held on this important subject in the presence of the king, it was agreed that the kaudza era of years should be done away with on a saturday, the first of the moon of tabaong, and that the new era should be made to begin on a sunday, on the first day of the waxing moon of the month tagoo. this was called the eetzana era. on the th of the new era, thoodaudana was born in the city of kapilawot; and on the twelfth year, maia was born at dewaha. in the days of the buddha wipathi, the future maia was then the daughter of a pounha. her father, who tenderly loved her, gave her one day a fine nosegay with a great quantity of the choicest perfumes and essences. the young girl, delighted with these articles, hastened to the place where lived wipathi, and with pious and fervent earnestness laid at his feet all that she had received from her father. wipathi, admiring the fervent liberality of the damsel, assured her that she would hereafter become the mother of a buddha, who was to be called gaudama. when thoodaudana was eighteen years of age, his father, king thiahanoo, called eight pounhas skilled in the science of astrology, and directed them to go with a large retinue and splendid presents in search of a royal princess to be married to his son. the eight pounhas departed. they visited several countries, but all in vain; they could not find one princess worthy of their master's son. at last they came to the city of dewaha. they had no sooner arrived in sight of it than they saw many signs which prognosticated that in the city would be found an accomplished princess, in every respect qualified to become the wife of the heir to the throne of kapilawot. at that time the young maia had gone to enjoy herself in a garden outside the city. it was situated on a gently sloping ground, covered with all sorts of the finest and rarest trees. a small brook, winding its course in various directions, shed on every hand, from its gently murmuring waters, a delicious freshness. thither the royal messengers resorted. they found the princess in the midst of her companions, outshining them all in beauty, like the moon among the stars. admitted into her presence, the head of the deputation attempted to speak and explain the object of his visit; but he was so much overwhelmed by the beauty and the graceful and dignified appearance of the princess, that his voice failed him, and he fainted three times in succession. as each fit came on him several damsels ran to his assistance with pitchers of fresh water, and brought him back to his senses. having recovered his spirits, the chief pounha felt encouraged by some graceful and kind words from the lips of the princess. he explained to her, in the choicest expressions, the object of his mission; and with a faltering and timid tone of voice stated to her that he had come to entreat her to accept presents from, and the hand of, prince thoodaudana. meanwhile he poured at her feet the brightest jewels and rarest articles. the princess, with a sweet voice, modestly replied that she was under the protection and care of her beloved parents, whose will she never resisted; that it was to them that this affair should be referred. for her own part, she had but one thing to do--to abide by her parents' wishes. satisfied with the answer, the pounhas retired, and hastened to the palace of king eetzana, to whom they related all that had just happened. the king graciously agreed to the proposal, and, in proof of his perfect satisfaction, sent in return a deputation with many presents to prince thoodaudana and his father. as might be expected, the royal messengers were well received at kapilawot. thiahanoo and his son set out with a countless retinue for the city of dewaha. in a grove of mango-trees an immense building was erected, out of the city, for their reception and accommodation; and in the middle of that building a spacious hall was arranged with infinite art for the marriage ceremony. when all the preparations were completed, the bridegroom, attended by his father, king thiahanoo and the chief of brahmas, went out to meet the bride, who was coming from the garden, accompanied by her mother and the wife of the great thagia. both advanced towards the centre of the hall, near a stand raised for the occasion. thoodaudana first stretched forth his hand and laid it over that place. maia gracefully did the same. they then took each other's hands, in token of the mutual consent. at that auspicious moment all the musical instruments resounded, and proclaimed in gladdening airs the happy event. the pounhas, holding the sacred shell in their hands, poured the blessed water over their heads, uttering all sorts of blessings. the parents and relatives joined in invoking upon the young couple the choicest benedictions. the king, princes, pounhas, and nobles vied with each other in making presents, and wishing them all sorts of happiness. when the festival was over, thiahanoo desired to go back to his country with his son and daughter-in-law. this was done with the utmost pomp and solemnity. on his return, he continued to govern his people with great prudence and wisdom, and at last died and migrated to one of the nats' seats. he was succeeded by his son thoodaudana, who, with his amiable wife, religiously observed the five precepts and the ten rules of kings. by his beneficence and liberality to all, he won the sincere affection of his people. it was on the twenty-eighth year of the new era that he was married. soon after, he took for his second wife, patzapati, the youngest sister of maia. thoodaudana's sister, amitau, was married to thouppabuddha, the son of king eetzana. about four thingies,[ ] an hundred thousand worlds ago,[ ] the most excellent buddha, who is infinitely wise and far superior to the three orders of beings, the brahmas, the nats,[ ] and men, received at the feet of the phra deipinkara the assurance that he would afterwards become himself a buddha. at this time he was a rathee,[ ] under the name of thoomeda. during that immense space of time, he practised in the highest degree the ten great virtues, the five renouncings, and the three mighty works of perfection.[ ] having become a great prince[ ] under the name of wethandra, he reached the acme of self-abnegation and renouncement to all the things of this world. after his death, he migrated to toocita, the fourth abode of nats. during his sojourn in that happy place, enjoying the fulness of pleasure allotted to the fortunate inhabitants of those blissful regions, a sudden and uncommon rumour, accompanied with an extraordinary commotion proclaimed the gladdening tidings that a phra was soon to make his appearance in this world.[b] [b] _remark of the burmese translator._--there are three solemn occasions on which this great rumour is noised abroad. the first, when the nats, guardians of this world, knowing that , years hence the end of this world is to come, show themselves amongst men with their heads hanging down, a sorrowful countenance, and tears streaming down their faces. they are clad in a red dress, and proclaim aloud to all mortals the destruction of this planet , years hence. they earnestly call upon men to devote themselves to the observance of the law, to the practice of virtue, the support of parents, and the respect due to virtuous personages. the second occasion is, when the same nats proclaim to men that a thousand years hence a buddha or phra will appear amongst them; and the third is, when they come and announce to men that within a hundred years there will be in this world a mighty prince, whose unlimited sway shall extend over the four great islands. on hearing that a phra was soon to make his appearance amongst men, all the nats, the peaceful inhabitants of the fortunate abode of toocita, assembled in all haste and crowded around phralaong,[ ] eagerly inquiring of him, who was the fortunate nat to whom was reserved the signal honour of attaining the incomparable dignity of buddha. the reason which directed their steps towards phralaong, and suggested their inquiry, was, that in him were already to be observed unmistakable signs, foreshadowing his future greatness. no sooner did it become known that this incomparable destination was to be his happy lot, than nats from all parts of the world resorted to the abode of toocita, to meet phralaong and to congratulate him upon this happy occasion. "most glorious nat," did they say to him, "you have practised most perfectly the ten great virtues;[ ] the time is now come for you to obtain the sublime nature of buddha. during former existences, you most rigidly attended to the observance of the greatest precepts, and walked steadily in the path of the highest virtues; you then sighed after and longed for the happiness of nats and brahmas; but now you have most gloriously achieved the mightiest work, and reached the acme of perfection. it remains with you only to aspire at the full possession of the supreme intelligence, which will enable you to open to all brahmas, nats, and men the way to the deliverance from those endless series of countless existences[ ] through which they are doomed to pass. now the light of the law is extinguished, a universal darkness has overspread all minds. men are more than ever slaves to their passions; there is a total lack of love among them; they hate each other, keep up quarrels, strifes and contentions, and mercilessly destroy each other. you alone can free them from the vicissitudes and miseries essentially connected with the present state of all beings. the time is at last come, when you are to become a buddha." unwilling to return at once a positive answer, phralaong modestly replied that he wanted some time to inquire particularly into the great circumstances always attending the coming of a buddha in this world, viz., the epoch or time when a buddha appears, the place which he chooses for his apparition or manifestation, the race or caste he is to be born from, and the age and quality of her who is to be his mother. as regards the first circumstance, phralaong observed that the apparition of a buddha could not have taken place during the previous period[ ] of , years and more that had just elapsed, because during that period the life of men was on the increase. the instructions on birth and death, as well as on the miseries of life, which form the true characteristics of buddha's law, would not then be received with sufficient interest and attention. had any attempt been made at that time to preach on these three great topics, the men of those days, to whom those great events would have appeared so distant, could not have been induced to look upon them with sufficient attention; the four great truths would have made no impression on their minds; vain and fruitless would have been the efforts to disentangle them from the ties of passions, then encompassing all beings, and to make them sigh after the deliverance from the miseries entailed upon mankind by birth, life, and death. the period when human life is under a hundred years' duration cannot at all be the proper period for such an important event, as the passions of men are then so many and so deeply rooted that buddha would in vain attempt to preach his law. as the characters which a man traces over the smooth surface of unruffled water instantly disappear without leaving any mark behind, so the law and instructions that one should attempt to spread on the hardened hearts of men would make no lasting impression upon them. hence he concluded that the present period, when the life of men was of about a hundred years' duration, was the proper one for the apparition of a buddha. this first point having been disposed of, phralaong examined in what part of the globe a buddha was to appear. his regards glanced over the four great islands[ ] and the small ones. he saw that the island of dzapoudiba, the southern one, had always been the favourite place selected by all former buddhas; he fixed upon it, too, for himself. that island, however, is a most extensive one, measuring in length youdzanas, in breadth , and in circumference . he knew that on that island former buddhas and semi-buddhas, the two great rahandas,[ ] or disciples of the right and left, the prince whose sway is universal, &c., had all of them invariably fixed upon and selected that island, and, amidst the various countries on the island, that of mitzima, the central one, where is to be found the district of kapilawot. "thither," said he, "shall i resort, and become a buddha." having determined the place which he was to select for his terrestrial seat, phralaong examined the race or caste from which he was to be born. the caste of the people and that of merchants appeared too low, and much wanting in respectability, and, moreover, no buddha had ever come out therefrom. that of the pounhas was in former times the most illustrious and respected, but that of princes, in those days, far surpassed it in power and consideration. he therefore fixed his choice upon the caste of princes, as most becoming his future high calling. "i choose," said he, "prince thoodaudana for my father. as to the princess who is to become my mother, she must be distinguished by a modest deportment and chaste manners, and must never have tasted any intoxicating drink. during the duration of , worlds she must have lived in the practice of virtue, performing with a scrupulous exactitude all the rules and observances prescribed by the law. the great and glorious princess maia is the only person in whom all these conditions are to be found. moreover, the period of her life shall be at an end ten months and seven days hence;[ ] she shall be my mother." having thus maturely pondered over these four circumstances, phralaong, turning to the nats that surrounded him, anxiously expecting his answer, plainly and unreservedly told them that the time for his becoming buddha had arrived, and bade them forthwith communicate this great news to all the brahmas and nats. he rose up, and, accompanied by all the nats of toocita, withdrew into the delightful garden of nandawon. after a short sojourn in that place, he left the abode of nats, descended into the seat of men, and incarnated in the womb of the glorious maia, who at once understood that she was pregnant with a boy who would obtain the buddhaship. at the same moment also the princess yathaudara, who was to be the wife of the son of maia, descended from the seats of nats, and was conceived in the womb of amitau, the wife of prince thouppabuddha. at that time the inhabitants of kapilawot were busily engaged in celebrating, in the midst of extraordinary rejoicings, the festival of the constellation of outarathan (july-august). but the virtuous maia, without mixing amidst the crowds of those devoted to amusements, during the seven days that preceded the full moon of july, spent her time among her attendants, making offerings of flowers and perfumes. the day before the full moon she rose up at an early hour, bathed in perfumed water, and distributed to the needy four hundred thousand pieces of silver. attired in her richest dress, she took her meal, and religiously performed all the pious observances usual on such occasions. this being done, she entered into her private apartment, and, lying on her couch, fell asleep and had the following dream:-- * * * * * four princes of nats, of the abode of tsadoomarit, took the princess with her couch, carried it to the mount himawonta,[ ] and deposited it on an immense and magnificent rock, sixty youdzanas long, adorned with various colours, at the spot where a splendid tree, seven youdzanas high, extends its green and rich foliage. the four queens, wives of the four princes of tsadoomarit, approaching the couch where maia was reclining, took her to the banks of the lake anawadat, washed her with the water of the lake, and spread over the couch flowers brought from the abode of nats. near the lake is a beautiful mountain of a silvery appearance, the summit whereof is crowned with a magnificent and lofty palace. on the east of the palace, in the side of the mount, is a splendid cave. within the cave, a bed similar to that of the nats was prepared. the princess was led to that place and sat on the bed, enjoying a delicious and refreshing rest. opposite this mount, and facing the cave where maia sat surrounded by her attendants, rose another mount, where phralaong, under the shape of a young white elephant, was roaming over its sides in various directions. he was soon seen coming down that hill, and, ascending the one where the princess lay on her bed, directed his course towards the cave. on the extremity of his trunk, lifted up like a beautiful string of flowers, he carried a white lily. his voice, occasionally resounding through the air, could be heard distinctly by the inmates of the grotto, and indicated his approach. he soon entered the cave, turned three times round the couch whereupon sat the princess, then, standing for a while, he came nearer, opened her right side, and appeared to conceal himself in her womb. in the morning, having awoke from her sleep, the queen related her dream to her husband. king thoodaudana sent without delay for sixty-four pounhas.[ ] on a ground lined with cow-dung, where parched rice, flowers, and other offerings were carefully deposited and profusely spread, an appropriate place was reserved for the pounhas. butter, milk, and honey were served out to them in vases of gold and silver; moreover, several suits of apparel and five cows were offered to each of them as presents, as well as many other articles. these preliminaries being arranged, the prince narrated to them the dream, with a request for its explanation. "prince," answered the pounhas, "banish from your mind all anxious thoughts, and be of a cheerful heart; the child whom the princess bears in her womb is not a girl but a boy. he will, after growing up, either live amongst men, and then become a mighty ruler, whose sway all the human race will acknowledge; or, withdrawing from the tumult of society, he will resort to some solitary place, and there embrace the profession of rahan. in that condition he will disentangle himself from the miseries attending existence, and at last attain the high dignity of buddha." such was the explanation of the dream. at the moment phralaong entered into maia's womb, a great commotion was felt throughout the four elements, and thirty-two wonders simultaneously appeared. a light of an incomparable brightness illuminated suddenly ten thousand worlds. the blind, desirous, as it were, to contemplate the glorious dignity of phralaong, recovered their sight; the deaf heard distinctly every sound; the dumb spoke with fluency; those whose bodies were bent stood up in an erect position; the lame walked with ease and swiftness; prisoners saw their fetters unloosed, and found themselves restored to liberty; the fires of hell were extinguished; the ravenous cravings of the preithas[ ] were satiated; animals were exempt from all infirmities; all rational beings uttered but words of peace and mutual benevolence; horses exhibited signs of excessive joy; elephants, with a solemn and deep voice, expressed their contentment; musical instruments resounded of themselves with the most melodious harmony; gold and silver ornaments, worn at the arms and feet, without coming in contact, emitted pleasing sounds; all places became suddenly filled with a resplendent light; refreshing breezes blew gently all over the earth; abundant rain poured from the skies during the hot season, and springs of cool water burst out in every place, carrying through prepared beds their gently murmuring streams; birds of the air stood still, forgetting their usual flight; rivers suspended their course, seized with a mighty astonishment; sea water became fresh; the five sorts of lilies were to be seen in every direction; every description of flowers burst open, displaying the richness of their brilliant colours; from the branches of all trees and the bosom of the hardest rocks, flowers shot forth, exhibiting all around the most glowing, dazzling, and varied hues; lilies, seemingly rooted in the canopy of the skies, hung down, scattering their embalmed fragrance; showers of flowers poured from the firmament on the surface of the earth; the musical tunes of the nats were heard by the rejoiced inhabitants of our globe; hundreds of thousands of worlds[ ] suddenly approached each other, sometimes in the shape of an elegant nosegay, sometimes in that of a ball of flowers or of a spheroid; the choicest essences embalmed the whole atmosphere that encompasses this world. such are the wonders that took place at the time phralaong entered his mother's womb. when this great event happened, four chiefs of nats, from the seat of tsadoomarit,[ ] armed with swords, kept an uninterrupted watch round the palace, to avert any accident that might prove hurtful to the mother or her blessed fruit. from , worlds, four nats from the same seat were actively engaged in driving away all bilous[ ] and other monsters, and forcing them to flee and hide themselves at the extremity of the earth. maia, free from every disordered propensity, spent her time with her handmaids in the interior of her apartments. her soul enjoyed, in a perfect calm, the sweetest happiness; fatigue and weariness never affected her unimpaired health. in his mother's womb, phralaong appeared like the white thread passed through the purest and finest pearls; the womb itself resembled an elegant dzedi.[ ][c] [c] _remark of the burmese translator._--it is to be borne in mind that mothers of buddhas having had the singular privilege of giving birth to a child of so exalted a dignity, it would not be convenient or becoming that other mortals should receive life in the same womb; they therefore always die seven days after their delivery and migrate to the abode of nats, called toocita. it is usual with other mothers to be delivered, lying in an horizontal position, and sometimes before or after the tenth month. but with the mother of a buddha the case is not the same; the time of her confinement invariably happens at the beginning of the tenth month, and she is always delivered in an erect and vertical position. with the solicitous care and vigilant attention with which one carries about a thabeit[ ] full of oil, the great maia watched all her movements, and during ten months unremittingly laboured for the safe preservation of the precious fruit of her womb. footnotes [ ] all buddhistic compositions are invariably prefaced with one of the following formulas of worship, always used by writers on religious subjects. the one relates to buddha alone, and the other to the three most excellent things, ever deserving the highest veneration. the first, always written in pali, beginning with the words _namau tassa_, may be translated as follows: i adore thee, or rather adoration to, the blessed, perfect, and most intelligent. here are proposed to the faith, admiration, and veneration of a true buddhist, the three great characteristics of the founder of his religion, his goodness and benevolence, his supreme perfection, and his boundless knowledge. they form the essential qualifications of a being who has assumed to himself the task of bringing men out of the abyss of darkness and ignorance, and leading them to deliverance. benevolence prompts him to undertake that great work, perfection fits him for such a high calling, and supreme science enables him to follow it up with a complete success. they are always held out to buddhists as the three bright attributes and transcendent qualities inherent in that exalted personage, which are ever to attract and concentrate upon him the respect, love, and admiration of all his sincere followers. the second formula may be considered as a short act of faith often repeated by buddhists. it consists in saying--i take refuge in buddha, the law, and the assembly. this short profession of faith is often much enlarged by the religious zeal of writers and the fervent piety of devotees. from the instance of this legend we may remark how the compiler, with a soul warmed by fervour is passing high encomiums upon each of the three sacred objects of veneration, or the sacred asylums wherein a buddhist delights to dwell. there is no doubt that this formula is a very ancient one, probably coeval with the first age of buddhism. the text of this legend bears out the correctness of this assertion. it appears that the repetition of this short sentence was the mark that distinguished converts. ordinary hearers of the preachings of buddha and his disciples evinced their adhesion to all that was delivered to them by repeating the sacred formula. it was then, and even now it is to buddhists, what the celebrated mahomedan declaration of faith--there is but one god, and mahomed is his prophet--is to the followers of the arabian prophet. it is extremely important to have an accurate idea of the three sacred abodes in which the believer expects to find a sure shelter against all errors, doubts, and fears, and a resting-place where his soul may securely enjoy the undisturbed possession of truth. they constitute what is emphatically called the three precious things. phra and buddha are two expressions which, though not having the same meaning, are used indiscriminately to designate the almost divine being, who after having gone, during myriads of successive existences, through the practice of all sorts of virtues, particularly self-denial and complete abnegation of all things, at last reaches to such a height of intellectual attainment that his mind becomes gifted with a perfect and universal intelligence or knowledge of all things. he is thus enabled to see and fathom the misery and wants of all mortal beings, and to devise means for relieving and filling them up. the law that he preaches is the wholesome balm designed to cure all moral distempers. he preaches it with unremitting zeal during a certain number of years, and commissions his chosen disciples to carry on the same benevolent and useful undertaking. having laid on a firm basis his religious institution, he arrives at the state of neibban. buddha means wise, intelligent. phra is an expression conveying the highest sense of respect, which was applied originally only to the author of buddhism, but now, through a servile adulation, it is applied to the king, his ministers, all great personages, and often by inferiors to the lowest menials of government. the word phra, coupled with that of thaking, which means lord, is used by christians in burmah to express the idea of god, the supreme being. from the foregoing lines the reader may easily infer that the author of buddhism is a mere man, superior to all other beings, not in nature, but in science and perfection. he lays no claim whatever to any kind of superiority in nature; he exhibits himself to the eyes of his disciples as one of the children of men, who has been born and is doomed to die. he carries his pretensions no farther. the idea of a supreme being is nowhere mentioned by him. in the course of his religious disputations with the brahmins, he combats the notion of a god, coolly establishing the most crude atheism. no one, it is true, can deny that in certain buddhistic countries the notion of an adibudha, or supreme being, is to be found in writings as well as popular opinions, but we know that these writings are of a comparatively recent date, and contain many doctrines foreign to genuine buddhism. this subject will, however, receive hereafter further developments. the law, the second object of veneration, is the body of doctrines delivered by buddha to his disciples during the forty-five years of his public career. he came to the perfect knowledge of that law when he attained the buddhaship under the shade of the bodi tree. at that time his mind became indefinitely expanded; his science embraced all that exists; his penetrating and searching eye reached the farthest limits of the past, saw at a glance the present, and fathomed the secrets of the future. in that position, unclouded truth shone with radiant effulgence before him, and he knew the nature of all beings individually, their condition and situation, as well as all the relations subsisting between them. he understood at once the miseries and errors attending all rational beings, the hidden causes that generated them, and the springs they issued from. at the same time he perceived distinctly the means to be employed for putting an end to so many misfortunes, and the remedies to be used for the cure of those numberless and sad moral distempers. his omniscience pointed out to him the course those beings had to follow in order to retrace their steps back from the way of error, and enter the road that would lead to the coming out from the whirlpool of moral miseries in which they had hitherto wretchedly moved during countless existences. all that gaudama said to the foregoing effect constitutes the law upon which so many high praises are lavished with such warm and fervent earnestness. a full and complete knowledge of that law, in the opinion of buddhists, dispels at once the clouds of ignorance, which, like a thick mist, encompass all beings, and sheds bright rays of pure light which enlighten the understanding. man is thus enabled to perceive distinctly the wretchedness of his position, and to discover the means wherewith he may extricate himself from the trammels of the passions and finally arrive at the state of neibban, which is, as it shall be hereafter fully explained, exemption from all the miseries attending existence. the whole law is divided into three parts; the abidama or metaphysics, thouts or moral instructions, and the wini or discipline. according to the opinion of the best informed among buddhists, the law is eternal, without a beginning or an author that might have framed its precepts. no buddha ever considered himself, or has ever been looked upon by others, as the inventor and originator of the law. he who becomes a buddha is gifted with a boundless science that enables him to come to a perfect knowledge of all that constitutes the law: he is the fortunate discoverer of things already existing, but placed far beyond the reach of the human mind. in fact, the law is eternal, but has become, since the days of a former buddha, obliterated from the minds of men, until a new one, by his omniscience, is enabled to win it back and preach it to all beings. the third object of veneration is the thanga, or assembly. the meaning of the pali word thanga is nearly equivalent to that of church or congregation. in the time gaudama lived the assembly was composed of all individuals who, becoming converts, embraced the mode of living of their preacher, and remained with him, or if they occasionally parted from him for a while, always kept a close intercourse with him, and spent a portion of their time in his company. having left the world, they subjected themselves to certain disciplinary regulations, afterwards embodied in the great compilation called wini. the members of the assembly were divided into two classes; the ariahs or venerables, who by their age, great proficiency in the knowledge of the law, and remarkable fervour in the assiduous practice of all its ordinances, occupied deservedly the first rank amongst the disciples of buddha, and ranked foremost in the assembly. the second class was composed of the bickus, or simple mendicant religious. it is difficult to assert with any degree of probability whether the upasakas, or ordinary hearers, have ever been regarded as members of the thanga, and forming a portion thereof. the upasakas were believers, but continued to live in the world, and formed, as it were, the laity of the buddhistic church. according to the opinion of buddhists in these parts, the laity is not considered as forming or constituting a part of the thanga; those only who abandon a secular life, put on the yellow canonical dress, and endeavour to tread in the footsteps of their great teacher, are entitled to the dignity of members of the assembly, to which a veneration is paid similar to that offered to buddha and the law. the ariahs, or venerables, are divided into four classes, according to their greater or less proficiency in knowledge and moral worth. they are called thotapan, thakadagan, anagam, and arahat. in the class of thotapan are included the individuals who have entered into the current, or stream, leading to deliverance, or, in other terms, who have stepped into the way of perfection. the thotapan is as yet to be born four times ere he can obtain the deliverance. those who belong to the second class glide rapidly down the stream, following steadily the way leading to perfection, and are to be born once more in the condition of nat, and once in that of man. those of the third class are to be born once in the condition of nats. finally, those of the fourth class have gone over the fourth and last way to perfection, reached the summit of science and spiritual attainments, and are ripe for the state of neibban, which they infallibly obtain after their death. the ariahs are again subdivided into eight classes, four of which include those who are following the four ways of perfection; the four others comprehend those who enjoy the reward of the duties practised in following the ways of perfection. [ ] the burmese translator of the pali text gives us to understand that his intention is not to give the history of our buddha during the countless existences that have preceded the last one, when he obtained the supreme intelligence. buddhists keep five hundred and ten histories or legends of buddha purporting to give an account of as many of his former existences; and to enhance the value of such records, the contents are supposed to have been narrated by buddha himself to his disciples and hearers. i have read most of them. two hundred of these fabulous narrations are very short, and give few particulars regarding our phra when he was as yet in the state of animal, man, and nat. they are, except the heading and the conclusion, the very same fables and _contes_ to be met with amongst all asiatic nations, which have supplied with inexhaustible stores all ancient and modern fabulists. the last ten narratives are really very complete and interesting stories of ten existences of buddha preceding the one we are about to describe, during which he is supposed to have practised the ten great virtues, the acquisition of which is an indispensable qualification for obtaining the exalted dignity of phra. some of these legends are really beautiful, interesting, and well-composed pieces of literature. [ ] toocita, or the joyful abode, is one of the seats of the nats. but in order to render more intelligible several passages of this work, it is almost indispensable to have an idea of the system adopted by buddhists in assigning to rational beings their respective seats or abodes. there are thirty-one seats assigned to all beings, which we may suppose to be disposed on an immense scale, extending from the bottom of the earth to an incommensurable height above it. at the foot we find the four states of punishment, viz., hell, the states of athourikes, preithas, and animals. next comes the abode of man. above it are the six seats of nats. these eleven seats are called the seats of passion, or concupiscence, because the beings residing therein are still subject to the influence of that passion, though not to an equal degree. above the abodes of nats we meet with the sixteen seats, called rupa, disposed perpendicularly one above the other to an incalculable height. the inhabitants of those fanciful regions are called brahmas, or perfect. they have freed themselves from concupiscence and almost all other passions, but still retain some affection for matter and material things. hence the denomination of rupa, or matter, given to the seats. the remaining portion of the scale is occupied by the four seats called arupa or immaterials, for the beings inhabiting them are entirely delivered from all passions. they have, as it were, broken asunder even the smallest ties that would attach them to this material world. they have reached the summit of perfection; one step farther, and they enter into the state neibban, the consummation, according to buddhists, of all perfection. to sum up all the above in a few words: there are four states of punishment. the seat of man is a place of probation and trial. the six abodes of nats are places of sensual pleasure and enjoyments. in the sixteen seats of rupa are to be met those beings whose delights are of a more refined and almost purely spiritual nature, though retaining as yet some slight affections for matter. in the four seats of arupa are located those beings who are wholly disentangled from material affections, who delight only in the sublimest contemplation, soaring, as it were, in the boundless regions of pure spiritualism. [ ] thingie is a number represented by a unit, followed by sixty-four ciphers; others say, one hundred and forty. [ ] buddhists have different ways of classifying the series of worlds, which they suppose to succeed to each other, after the completion of a revolution of nature. as regards buddhas, who appear at unequal intervals for illuminating and opening the way to deliverance to the then existing beings, worlds are divided into those which are favoured with the presence of one or several buddhas, and those to which so eminent a benefit is denied. the present revolution of nature, which includes the period in which we live, has been privileged above all others. no less than five buddhas, like five shining suns, are to shoot forth rays of incomparable brilliancy, and dispel the mist of thick darkness that encompasses all beings, according to their respective laws of demerits. of these five, four, namely, kaukassan, gaunagong, kathaba, gaudama, have already performed their great task. the fifth, named aremideia, is as yet to come. the religion of gaudama is to last five thousand years, of which two thousand four hundred and eight are elapsed. the names of the twenty-eight last buddhas are religiously preserved by buddhists, together with their age, their stature, the names of the trees under which they have obtained the universal intelligence, their country, the names of their father and mother, and those of their two chief disciples. deinpakara occupies the fourth place in the series. he is supposed to have been eighty cubits high, and to have lived one hundred thousand years. it is not without interest to examine whether there have existed buddhas previous to the time of gaudama, and whether the twenty-eight buddhas above alluded to are to be considered as mythological beings who have never existed. it cannot be denied that mention of former buddhas is made in the earliest sacred records, but it seems difficult to infer therefrom that they are real beings. st. the circumstances respecting their extraordinary longevity, their immense stature, and the myriads of centuries that are supposed to have elapsed from the times of the first to those of gaudama, are apparently conclusive proofs against the reality of their existence. d. the names of those personages are found mentioned in the preachings of gaudama, together with those individuals with whom he is supposed to have lived and conversed during former existences. who has ever thought of giving any credence to those fables? they were used by gaudama as so many means to give extension and solidity to the basis whereupon he intended to found his system. d. there are no historical records or monuments that can give countenance to the opposite opinion. the historical times begin with gaudama, whilst there exist historical proofs of the existence of the rival creed of brahminism anterior to the days of the acknowledged author of buddhism. it cannot be doubted that there existed in the days of buddha, in the valley of the ganges and in the punjaub, a great number of philosophers, who led a retired life, devoting their time to study and the practice of virtue. some of them occasionally sallied out of their retreats to go and deliver moral instructions to the people. the fame that attended those philosophers attracted round their lonely abodes crowds of hearers, eager to listen to their lectures and anxious to place themselves under their direction for learning the practice of virtue. in the pages of this legend will be found passages corroborating this assertion. thence arose those multifarious schools, where were elaborated the many systems, opinions, &c., for which india has been celebrated from the remotest antiquity. the writer has had the patience to read two works full of disputations between brahmins and buddhists, as well as some books of the ethics of the latter. he has been astonished to find that in those days the art of arguing, disputing, defining, &c., had been carried to such a point of nicety as almost to leave the disciples of aristotle far behind. it has been said that the gymnosophists whom alexander the great met in india were buddhist philosophers. but the particulars mentioned by greek writers respecting their manners and doctrines contradict such a supposition. they are described as living in a state of complete nakedness, and as refusing to deliver instructions to the messenger of alexander, unless he consented to strip himself of his clothes. on the other hand, we know that buddha enjoined a strict modesty on his religious, and in the book of ordinations the candidate is first asked whether he comes provided with his canonical dress. the gymnosophists are represented as practising extraordinary austerities, and holding self-destruction in great esteem. these and other practices are quite at variance with all the prescriptions of the wini, or book of discipline. it is further mentioned that the macedonian hero met with other philosophers living in community; but whether these were buddhists or not, it is impossible to decide. it can scarcely be believed that buddhism in the days of alexander could have already invaded the countries which the grecian army conquered. [ ] nat in pali means lord. its signification is exactly equivalent to that of dewa, dewata. the nats are an order of beings in the buddhistic system, occupying six seats or abodes of happiness, placed in rising succession above the abode of man. they are spirits endowed with a body of so subtle and ethereal nature as to be able to move with the utmost rapidity from their seat to that of man, and _vice versa_. they play a conspicuous part in the affairs of this world, and are supposed to exercise a considerable degree of influence over man and other creatures. fear, superstition, and ignorance have peopled all places with nats. every tree, forest, fountain, village, and town has its protecting nat. some among the nats having lost their high station through misconduct, have been banished from their seats and doomed to drag a wretched existence in some gloomy recess. their power for doing evil is supposed to be very great. hence the excessive dread of those evil genii entertained by all buddhists. a good deal of their commonest superstitious rites have been devised for propitiating those enemies to all happiness, and averting the calamitous disasters which they seem to keep hanging over our heads. though the nats' worship is universal among the buddhists of all nations, it is but fair to state that it is contrary to the principles of genuine buddhism and repugnant to its tenets. it is probable that it already existed among all the nations of eastern asia at the time they were converted to buddhism. the tribes that have not as yet been converted to buddhism have no other worship but that of the nats. to mention only the principal ones, such as the karens, the khyins, and the singphos, they may differ in the mode of performing their religious rites and superstitious ceremonies, but the object is the same, honouring and propitiating the nats. this worship is so deeply rooted in the minds of the wild and half-civilised tribes of eastern asia, that it has been, to a great extent, retained by the nations that have adopted buddhism as their religious creed. the burmans, for instance, from the king down to the lowest subject, privately and publicly indulge in the nats' worship. as to the tribes that have remained outside the pale of buddhism, they may be styled nats' worshippers. hence it may be inferred that previous to the introduction or the preaching of the tenets of the comparatively new religion in these parts, the worship of nats was universal and predominating. [ ] raci or rathee means an hermit, a personage living by himself in some lonely and solitary recess, far from the contagious atmosphere of impure society, devoting his time to meditation and contemplation. his diet is of the coarsest kind, supplied to him by the forests he lives in; the skins of some wild animals afford him a sufficient dress. most of those rathees having reached an uncommon degree of extraordinary attainment, their bodies become spiritualised to a degree which enables them to travel from place to place by following an aërial course. in all buddhistic legends, comedies, &c., they are often found interfering in the narrated stories and episodes. there is no doubt but those devotees who, in the days of buddha, spent their time in retreat, devoted to study and meditation, were brahmins. in support of this assertion we have the highest possible native authority, the institutes of menoo, compiled probably during the eighth or ninth century before christ. we find in that work, minutely described, the mode of life becoming a true brahmin. during the third part of his life, a brahmin must live as an anchorite in the woods. clad in the bark of trees or the skins of animals, with his hair and nails uncut, having no shelter whatever but that which is afforded him by the trees of the forest, keeping sometimes a strict silence, living on herbs and roots, he must train himself up to bearing with entire unconcern the cold of winter and the heat of summer. such is the course of life, according to the vedas, which the true brahmin is bound to follow during the third portion of his existence. some buddhistic zealots have sometimes endeavoured to emulate the ancient rathees in their singular mode of life. it is not quite unfrequent in our days to hear of some fervent phongies who, during the three months of lent, withdraw into solitude, to be more at liberty to devote their time to study and meditation. this observance, however, is practised by but very few individuals, and that, too, with a degree of laxity that indicates a marked decline of the pristine fervour that glowed in the soul of primitive buddhists. [ ] the three great works are; the assistance afforded to his parents and relatives, the great offerings he had made, coupled with a strict observance of the most difficult points of the law, and benevolent dispositions towards all beings indiscriminately. [ ] this extraordinary monarch, called tsekiawade, never makes his appearance during the period of time allotted to the publication and duration of the religious institutions of a buddha. [ ] here i make use of the expression phralaong, or more correctly phraalaong, to designate buddha before he obtained the supreme knowledge, when he was, as it were, slowly and gradually gravitating towards the centre of matchless perfection. in that state it is said of him that he is not yet ripe. this word involves a meaning which ought to be well understood. no single expression in our language can convey a correct idea of its import, and for this reason it has been retained through these pages. _alaong_ is a derivative from the verb _laong_, which means to be in an incipient way, in a way of progression towards something more perfect. a buddha is at first a being in a very imperfect state; but passing through countless existences, he frees himself, by a slow process, from some of his imperfections; he acquires merits which enable him to rise in the scale of progress, science, and perfection. in perusing the narrative of the five hundred and ten former existences of gaudama which have come down to us, we find that, when he was yet in the state of animal, he styled himself phralaong. the burmese have another expression of similar import to express the same meaning. they say of a being as yet in an imperfect condition that he is soft, tender as an unripe thing; and when he passes to the state of perfection, they say that he is ripe, that he has blossomed and expanded. they give to understand that he who is progressing towards the buddhaship has in himself all the elements constitutive of a buddha lying as yet concealed in himself; but when he reaches that state, then all that had hitherto remained in a state of unripeness bursts suddenly out of the bud and comes to full maturity. similar expressions are often better calculated to give a clear insight into the true and real opinions of buddhists than a lengthened and elaborate dissertation could do. [ ] the ten great virtues or duties are, liberality, observance of the precepts of the law, retreat into lonely places, wisdom, diligence, benevolence, patience, veracity, fortitude, and indifference. the five renouncements are, renouncing children, wife, goods, life, and one's self. [ ] metempsychosis is one of the fundamental dogmas of buddhism. that continual transition from one existence to another, from a state of happiness to one of unhappiness, and _vice versa_, forms a circle encompassing the buddhist in every direction. he is doomed to fluctuate incessantly on the never-settled waters of existence. hence his ardent wishes to be delivered from that most pitiable position, and his earnest longings for the ever-tranquil state of neibban, the way to which buddha alone can teach him by his precepts and his examples. this dogma is common both to brahmins and buddhists. the originator and propagator of the creed of the latter found it already established; he had but to embody it among his own conceptions, and make it agree with his new ideas. his first teachers were brahmins, and under their tuition he learned that dogma which may be considered as the basis on which hinge both systems. in fact, the two rival creeds have a common object in view, the elevating of the soul from those imperfections forced upon her by her connection with matter, and the setting of her free from the sway of passions, which keep her always linked to this world. according to the votaries of both creeds, transmigration has for its object the effecting of those several purposes. there is a curious opinion among buddhists respecting the mode of transmigrations, and there is no doubt it is a very ancient one, belonging to the genuine productions of the earliest buddhism. transmigration, they say, is caused and entirely controlled by the influence of merits and demerits, but in such a way that a being who has come to his end transmits nothing of his entity to the being to be immediately reproduced. the latter is a being apart, independent of the former, created, it is true, by the influence of the late being's good or bad deeds, but having nothing in common with him. they explain this startling doctrine by the comparison of a tree successively producing and bearing fruits, of which some are good and some bad. the fruits, though coming from the same tree, have nothing in common, either with each other or with those that were previously grown, or may afterwards grow out of the same plant; they are distinct and separate. so they say, _kan_, or the influence of merits and demerits, produces successively beings totally distinct one from the other. this atheistic or materialistic doctrine is not generally known by the common people, who practically hold that transmigration is effected in the manner professed and taught by pythagoras and his school. if between the adherents of the two creeds there is a perfect agreement respecting the means to be resorted to for reaching the point when man becomes free from miseries, ignorance, and imperfections, they are at variance as to the end to be arrived to. the brahmin leads the perfected being to the supreme essence, in which he is merged as a drop of water in the ocean, losing his personality, to form a whole with the divine substance. this is pantheism. the buddhist, ignoring a supreme being, conducts the individual that has become emancipated from the thraldom of passions to a state of complete isolation, called neibban. this is, strictly speaking, annihilation. [ ] the duration of a revolution of nature, or the time required for the formation of a world, its existence and destruction, is divided into four periods. the fourth period, or that which begins with the apparition of man on the earth until its destruction, is divided into sixty-four parts, called andrakaps. during one andrakap, the life of man increases gradually from ten years to an almost innumerable number of years; and having reached its maximum of duration, it decreases slowly to its former short duration of ten years. we live at present in that second part of an andrakap when the life of man is on the decline and decrease. if my memory serve me right, we have reached at present the ninth or tenth andrakap of the fourth period. should the calculations of buddhists ever prove correct, the deluded visionaries who look forward to an approaching millennium, have still to wait long ere their darling wishes be realised. though it be somewhat tiresome and unpleasant to have to write down the absurd and ridiculous notions burmans entertain respecting the organisation of matter, the origin, production, existence, duration, and end of the world, it appears quite necessary to give a brief account, and sketch an outline of their ideas on these subjects. the reader will then have the means of tracing up to their hindu origin several of the many threads that link buddhism to brahminism, and better understand the various details hereafter to be given, and intended for establishing a great fact, viz., the brahminical origin of the greater part of the buddhistic institutions. he will, moreover, have the satisfaction of clearly discovering, buried in the rubbish of fabulous recitals, several important facts recorded in the holy scriptures. matter is eternal, but its organisation and all the changes attending it are caused and regulated by certain laws co-eternal with it. both matter and the laws that act upon it are self-existing, independent of the action and control of any being, &c. as soon as a system of worlds is constituted, buddhists boldly assert and perseveringly maintain that the law of merit and demerit is the sole principle that regulates and controls both the physical and moral world. but how is a world brought into existence? water, or rather rain, is the chief agent, operating in the reproduction of a system of nature. during an immense period of time rain pours down with an unabating violence in the space left by the last world that has been destroyed. meanwhile strong winds, blowing from opposite directions, accumulate the water within definite and certain limits until it has filled the whole space. at last appears on the surface of water, floating like a greasy substance, the sediment deposited by water. in proportion as the water dries up under the unremitting action of the wind, that crust increases in size, until, by a slow, gradual, but sure process, it invariably assumes the shape and proportion of our planet, in the manner we are to describe. the centre of the earth, indeed of a world or system of nature, is occupied by a mountain of enormous size and elevation, called mienmo. this is surrounded by seven ranges of mountains, separated from each other by streams, equalling, in breadth and depth, the height of the mountain forming its boundaries in the direction of the central elevation. the range nearest to the mienmo rises to half its height. each successive range is half the height of the range preceding it. beyond the last stream are disposed four great islands, in the direction of the four points of the compass. each of those four islands is surrounded by five hundred smaller ones. beyond those there is water, reaching to the farthest limits of the world. the great island we inhabit is the southern one, called dzampoudipa, from the jambu, or eugenia tree, growing upon it. our planet rests on a basis of water double the thickness of the earth; the water itself is lying on a mass of air that has a thickness double that of water. below this aërial stratum is _laha_, or vacuum. let us see now in what manner our planet is peopled, and whence came its first inhabitants. from the seats of brahmas which were beyond the range of destruction when the former world perished, three celestial beings, or, according to another version, six, came on the earth, remaining on it in a state of perfect happiness, occasionally revisiting, when it pleased them, their former seats of glory. this state of things lasts during a long period. at that time the two great luminaries of the day and the stars of night have not as yet made their appearance, but rays of incomparable brightness, emanating from the pure bodies of those new inhabitants, illuminate the globe. they feed at long intervals upon a certain gelatinous substance, of such a nutritious power that the smallest quantity is sufficient to support them for a long period. this delicious food is of the most perfect flavour. but it happens that at last it disappears, and is successively replaced by two other substances, one of which resembles the tender sprout of a tree. they are so nutritious and purified that in our present condition we can have no adequate idea of their properties. they too disappear, and are succeeded by a sort of rice called _tha-le_. the inhabitants of the earth eat also of that rice. but alas! the consequences prove as fatal to them as the eating of the forbidden fruit proved to the happy denizens of eden. the brightness that had hitherto encircled their bodies and illuminated the world vanishes away, and, to their utmost dismay, they find themselves, for the first time, sunk into an abyss of unknown darkness. the eating of that coarse food creates fæces and evacuations which, forcing their way out of the body, cause the appearance of what marks the distinction of the sexes. passions, for the first time, burn and rage in the bosom of those hitherto passionless beings. they are deprived of the power to return to their celestial seats. very soon jealousy, contentions, &c., follow in the train of the egotistical distinction of _mine_ and _thine_. finding themselves in the gloom of darkness, the unhappy beings sigh for and long after light, when, on a sudden, the sun, breaking down the barrier of darkness, bursts out, rolling, as it were, in a flood of light, which illuminates the whole world; but soon disappearing in the west below the horizon, darkness seems to resume its hold. new lamentations and bewailings arise on the part of men, when in a short time appears majestically the moon, spreading its silvery and trembling rays of light. at the same time the planets and stars take their respective stations in the sky, and begin their regular revolutions. the need of settling disputes that arise is soon felt by the new inhabitants; they agree to elect a chief, whom they invest with a sufficient authority for framing regulations which are to be obligatory on every member of society, and power for enforcing obedience to those regulations. hence the origin of society. men, at first practising virtue, enjoyed a long life, the duration of which reached to the almost incredible length of a thingie. but they having much relaxed in the practice of virtue, it lessened proportionably to their want of fervour in the observance of the law, until, by their extreme wickedness, it dwindled to the short period of ten years. the same ascending and descending scale of human life, successively brought in by the law of merit and demerit, takes place sixty-four times, and constitutes an andrakap, or the duration of a world. it remains only to mention rapidly some particulars regarding the end of a revolution of nature. the cause of such an event is the influence of the demerits, prevailing to such an extent as to be all-powerful in working out destruction. two solemn warnings of the approaching dissolution of our planet are given by nats, one nearly , and the other years before that event. the bearers of such sad news make their appearance on earth with marks of deep mourning, as best suited to afford additional weight to their exhortations. they earnestly call on men to repent of their sins and amend their lives. these last summonses are generally heeded by all mankind, so that men, when the world is destroyed, generally migrate, together with the victims of hell who have atoned for their past iniquities, to those seats of brahmas that escape destruction. there are three great principles of demerit, concupiscence, anger, and ignorance. the world also is destroyed by the action of three different agents, fire, water, and wind. concupiscence is the most common, though the less heinous of the three. next comes anger, less prevailing, though it is more heinous; but ignorance is by far the most fatal of all moral distempers. the moral disorder then prevailing causes destruction by the agency that it sets in action. concupiscence has for its agency fire; anger, water; ignorance, wind; but in the following proportion. of sixty-four destructions of this world, fifty-six are caused by conflagration, seven by water, and one by wind. their respective limits of duration stand as follows: conflagration reaches to the five lowest seats of brahmas; water extends to the eighth seat, and the destructive violence of the wind is felt as far as the ninth seat. [ ] our planet or globe is composed, according to buddhists, of the mountain mienmo, being in height , youdzanas ( youdzana is, according to some authorities, equal to little less than english miles) above the surface of the earth, and in depth equal to its height. around this huge and tall elevation are disposed the four great islands, according to the four points of the compass; and each of these again is surrounded by small islands. the countries south of the great chain of the himalaya are supposed to form the great island lying at the south. it would be easy to give, at full length, the ridiculous notions entertained by buddhists of these parts on geography and cosmography, &c., &c.; but the knowledge of such puerilities is scarcely worth the attention of a serious reader, who is anxious to acquire accurate information respecting a religious system, which was designed by its inventor to be the vehicle of moral doctrines, with but very few dogmas. those speculations upon this material world have gradually found their place in the collection of sacred writings, but they are no part of the religious creed. they are of a hindu origin, and convey indian notions upon those various topics. these notions even do not belong to the system as expounded in the vedas, but have been set forth at a comparatively modern epoch. [ ] a rahanda is a being very far advanced in perfection, and gifted with high spiritual attainments, which impart to his mortal frame certain distinguished prerogatives, becoming almost spirits. concupiscence is totally extinguished in a rahanda; he may be said to be fit for the state neibban. several classes are assigned to rahandas alone, according to their various degrees of advancement in the way of perfection. [ ] it is an immutable decree that she on whom has been conferred the singular honour of giving birth to a mortal who, during the course of his existence, is to become a buddha, dies invariably seven days after her delivery, migrating to one of the delightful seats of nats. the burmese translator observes that a womb that has been, as it were, consecrated and sanctified by the presence of a child of so exalted a dignity, can never become afterwards the hidden abode of less dignified beings. it must be confessed that the conception of phralaong in his mother's womb is wrapped up in a mysterious obscurity, appearing as it does to exclude the idea of conjugal intercourse. the cochin-chinese in their religious legends pretend that buddha was conceived and born from maia in a wonderful manner, not resembling at all what takes place according to the order of nature. [ ] the mount himawonta is famous in all buddhistic compositions, as the scene where great and important events have happened. it is in all probability the himalaya, as being the highest range of mountains ever known to indian buddhists. [ ] pounhas are the brahmins who, even in those days of remote antiquity, were considered as the wisest in their generation. they had already monopolised the lucrative trade of fortune-tellers, astrologers, &c., and it appears that they have contrived to retain it up to our own days. during my first stay in burmah i became acquainted with a young pounha, wearing the white dress, and getting his livelihood by telling the horoscopes of newly-born infants, and even grown-up people. i learned from him the mode of finding out by calculation the state of the heavens at any given hour whatever. this mode of calculation is entirely based on the hindu system, and has evidently been borrowed from that people. though brahmins in those days, as in our own, worked on popular ignorance and credulity in the manner abovementioned, we ought not to lose sight of the great fact, borne out by this legend in a most distinct and explicit way, that many among them devoted all their time, energies, and abilities to the acquirement of wisdom, and the observance of the most arduous practices. their austere mode of life was to a great extent copied and imitated by the first religious of the buddhist persuasion. many ordinances and prescriptions of the wini agree, in a remarkable degree, with those enforced by the vedas. in the beginning, the resemblance must have been so great as to render the discrepancies scarcely perceptible, since we read in this very work of an injunction made to the early converts, to bestow alms on the pounhas as well as on the bickus or mendicant religious, placing them both on a footing of perfect equality. [ ] preitha is a being in a state of punishment and sufferings on account of sins committed in a former existence. he is doomed to live in the solitary recesses of uninhabited mountains, smarting under the pangs of never-satiated hunger. his body, and particularly his stomach, are of gigantic dimensions, whilst his mouth is so small that a needle could scarcely be shoved into it. [ ] in the buddhistic system of cosmogony, , worlds form one system, subject to the same immutable changes and revolutions as affect this one which we inhabit. they admit, indeed, that the number of worlds is unlimited, but they assert that those forming one system are simultaneously destroyed, reproduced and perfected, by virtue of certain eternal laws inherent in matter itself. [ ] tsadoomarit is the first of the six abodes of nats. the description of the pleasures enjoyed by the inhabitants of that seat is replete with accounts of the grossest licentiousness. [ ] a palou, or rather bilou, is a monster with a human face, supposed to feed on human flesh. his eyes are of a deep red hue, and his body of so subtle a nature as never to project any shadow. wonderful tales are told of this monster, which plays a considerable part in most of the buddhistic writings. [ ] a dzedi is a religious edifice of a conical form, supported on a square basis, and having its top covered with what the burmese call an umbrella, resembling in its shape the musical instrument vulgarly called _chapeau chinois_ by the french. on each side of the quadrangular basis are opened four niches, in the direction of the four cardinal points, destined to receive statues of buddha. this monument is of every dimension in size, from the smallest, a few feet high, to the tallest, of one or two hundred feet high. it is to be seen in every direction, and in the neighbourhood of towns every elevation is crowned with one or several dzedis. the word dzedi means a sacred depository, that is to say, a place where relics of buddha were enshrined. the word has been extended since to places which have become receptacles of the scriptures, or of the relics of distinguished religious, who had acquired eminence by their scientific and moral attainments. in the beginning, those dzedis were a kind of _tumuli_, or mounds of earth or bricks, erected upon the shrine wherein relics were enclosed. in proportion as the followers of the buddhistic faith increased in number, wealth, and influence, they erected dzedis on a grander scale, bearing always a great resemblance in shape and form to the primitive ones. the stupas or topes discovered in the punjaub, and in other parts of the indian peninsula, were real buddhistic tumuli or dzedis. during succeeding ages, when relics could not be procured, the faithful continued to erect dzedis, the sight of which was intended to remind them of the sacred relics, and they paid to those relics and monuments the same veneration as they would have offered to those enriched with those priceless objects. in burmah, in particular, the zeal, or rather the rage, for building dzedis has been carried to a degree scarcely to be credited by those who have not visited that country. in the following pages there will be found an attempt to describe the various forms given to those monuments. [ ] the thabeit is an open-mouthed pot, of a truncated spheroidical form, made of earth, iron, or brass, without ornaments, used by the buddhist monks when going abroad, in their morning excursions, to receive the alms bestowed on them by the admirers of their holy mode of life. chapter ii. _birth of buddha in a forest -- rejoicings on that occasion -- kaladewila -- prediction of the pounhas -- vain efforts of thoodaudana to thwart the effect of the prediction._ the time of her approaching confinement being close at hand, the princess solicited from her husband, king thoodaudana, leave to go to the country of dewah,[ ] amongst her friends and relatives. as soon as her request was made known, the king ordered that the whole extent of the road between kapilawot and dewah should be perfectly levelled, and lined on both sides with plantain trees, and adorned with the finest ornaments. jars, full of the purest water, were to be deposited all along the road at short intervals. a chair of gold was made ready for conveying the queen; and a thousand noblemen, attended by an innumerable retinue, were directed to accompany her during the journey. between the two countries an immense forest of lofty engyin trees extends to a great distance. as soon as the _cortège_ reached it, five water-lilies shot forth spontaneously from the stem and the main branches of each tree, and innumerable birds of all kinds, by their melodious tunes, filled the air with the most ravishing music. trees, similar in beauty to those growing in the seats of nats, apparently sensible of the presence of the incarnated buddha, seemed to share in the universal joy. on beholding this wonderful appearance of all the lofty trees of the forest, the queen felt a desire to approach nearer and enjoy the marvellous sight offered to her astonished regards. her noble attendants led her forthwith a short distance into the forest. maia, seated on her couch, along with her sister patzapati, desired her attendants to have it moved closer to an engyin tree (_shorea robusta_), which she pointed out. her wishes were immediately complied with. she then rose gently on her couch; her left hand, clasped round the neck of her sister, supported her in a standing position. with the right hand she tried to reach and break a small branch, which she wanted to carry away. on that very instant, as the slender rattan, heated by fire, bends down its tender head, all the branches lowered their extremities, offering themselves, as it were, to the hand of the queen, who unhesitatingly seized and broke the extremity of one of the young boughs. by virtue of a certain power inherent in her dignity, on a sudden all the winds blew gently throughout the forest. the attendants, having desired all the people to withdraw to a distance, disposed curtains all round the place the queen was standing on. whilst she was in that position, admiring the slender bough she held in her hands, the moment of her confinement happened, and she was delivered of a son.[d] [d] on the same day a son was born to amitaudana, called ananda. the wife of thouppaboudha of dewah was delivered of a daughter, called yathaudara, who became afterwards the wife of phralaong. anouroudha, the son of thookaudana, was ushered into existence on the same solemn occasion. the above-named ananda was first cousin to the buddha, and subsequently became the amiable, faithful, and devoted disciple who, during twenty-five years, attended on the person of buddha, and affectionately ministered to all his wants. after the death of his mother maia, phralaong was nursed and brought up with the greatest care by his aunt patzapati, sometimes called gautamee. four chief brahmas[ ] received the new-born infant on a golden net-work, and placed him in the presence of the happy mother, saying, "give yourself up, o queen, to joy and rejoicing; here is the precious and wonderful fruit of your womb."[e] [e] _remarks of the burmese translator._--when children are born they appear in this world covered all over their bodies with impure and disgusting substances. but an exception was made in favour of our infant phralaong. he was born without the least stain of offending impurity; he was ushered into this world, pure and resplendent, like a fine ruby placed on a piece of the richest cloth of kathika. he left his mother's womb with his feet and hands stretched out, exhibiting the dignified countenance of a pundit descending from the place where he has expounded the law. though both mother and child were exempt from the humiliating miseries common to all other human beings, there came down from the skies upon both, by way of a respectful offering, gentle showers of cold and warm water, succeeding each other alternately in a regular order. from the hands of the four chiefs of brahmas, four chiefs of nats received the blessed child, whom they handed over to men, who placed him on a beautiful white cloth. but to the astonishment of all, he freed himself from the hands of those attending upon him, and stood in a firm and erect position on the ground, when casting a glance towards the east, more than one thousand worlds appeared like a perfectly levelled plain. all the nats inhabiting those worlds made offerings of flowers and perfumes, exclaiming with exultation, "an exalted personage has made his appearance;--who can ever be compared to him? who has ever equalled him? he is indeed the most excellent of all beings." phralaong looked again towards the three other directions. raising his eyes upwards, and then lowering them down, he saw that there was no being equal to him. conscious of his superiority, he jumped over a distance of seven lengths of a foot, in a northern direction, exclaiming,--"this is my last birth; there shall be to me no other state of existence; i am the greatest of all beings."[ ] he then began to walk steadily in the same direction. a chief of brahmas held over his head the white umbrella.[ ] a nat carried the golden fan. other nats held in their hands the golden sword, the golden slippers, the cope set with the rarest precious stones, and other royal insignia.[f] [f] _remarks of the burmese translator._--in former existences, our phralaong is said to have spoken a few words immediately after his birth, viz., when he was mahauthata and wethandra. in the first, he came into this world holding in his hands a small plant, which a nat had brought and placed in his tender hands at that very moment. he showed it to his mother, who asked him what it was. "this is a medicinal plant," replied he, to his astonished mother. the plant was cast into a large jar full of water, and the virtualised liquid ever retained the power of curing every kind of bodily distemper. when he was born, or rather began the existence in which he was called wethandra, he stretched out his hands asking something from his mother which he might bestow on the needy. the mother put at his disposal one thousand pieces of silver. thirty-two mighty wonders had proclaimed the incarnation of phralaong in his mother's womb, and the same number of wonders announced his birth to the earth. moreover, in that same moment were born the beautiful yathaudara, ananda, the son of amitaudana, the noblemen tsanda and kaludari, and the horse kantika. the great tree bodi also sprung from the ground, in the forest of oorouwela, about two youdzanas distant from the city of radzagio, and in a north-easterly direction from that place, and the four golden vases suddenly reappeared. the inhabitants of dewah, joining those of kapilawot, set out for the latter country with the newly-born infant, to whom they rendered the greatest honours. the nats of the seat of tawadeintha, on hearing that a son was born to king thoodaudana, and that under the shade of the tree bodi[ ] he would become a true buddha with a perfect knowledge of the four great truths, gave full vent to their boundless joy, hoisting unfurled flags and banners in every direction, in token of their indescribable rejoicings. there was a celebrated rathee, named kaladewila, who had passed through the eight degrees of contemplation, and who was in the habit of resorting daily to the prince's palace for his food. on that very day, having taken his meal as usual, he ascended to the seat of tawadeintha,[ ] and found the fortunate inhabitants of that seat giving themselves up to uncommon rejoicings. he asked them the reason of such an unusual display of enrapturing transports of exultation. "it is," replied they to the inquiring rathee, "because a son is born to king thoodaudana, who will soon become a true buddha. like all former buddhas, he will preach the law and exhibit in his person and throughout his life the greatest wonders and a most accomplished pattern of the highest virtues. we will hear the law from his very mouth." on hearing the answer of the nats, kaladewila immediately left the seat of tawadeintha, and directed his aërial course towards the palace of thoodaudana. having entered into the palace and occupied the place prepared for him, he conveyed to the king the good tidings of a son having been born unto him. a few days after this message, the royal child was brought into the presence of his rejoicing father. kaladewila was present on the occasion. thoodaudana ordered that the child should be attired with the finest dress, and placed in the presence of the rathee, in order to pay him his respects. but the child rose up and set his two feet on the curled hair of the venerable personage. the persons present on the occasion, not knowing that a buddha in his last existence never bows down to any being, thought that the head of the imprudent child would be split into seven parts as a punishment for his unbecoming behaviour. but kaladewila, rising up from his seat, and lifting up his hands to his forehead, bowed respectfully to the infant phralaong. the king, astonished at such an unusual condescension from so eminent a personage, followed his example, and out of respect prostrated himself before his son. by virtue of his great spiritual attainments, kaladewila could recollect at once all that had taken place during the forty preceding worlds, and foresee all that would happen during the same number of future revolutions of nature. on seeing the high perfections shining forth in our phralaong, he considered attentively whether he would become a buddha or not. having ascertained that such a dignity was reserved for him, he wished to know if the remaining period of his own existence would permit him to witness the happy moment when he would be a buddha. to his deep regret, he foresaw that the end of his life would come before the occurrence of that great event, and that he would have then migrated to one of the seats of arupa, and be, therefore, deprived of the favour of hearing the law from his mouth. this foresight caused a profound sadness in his heart, and abundant tears flowed from his eyes. but when he reflected on the future destiny of the blessed child, he could not contain within himself the pure joy that overflowed his soul. the people present on the occasion soon observed the opposite emotions which alternately affected the soul of kaladewila. they asked him the reason of such an unusual occurrence. "i rejoice," said he, "at the glorious destiny of that child; but i feel sad and disconsolate when i think that it will not be given to me to see and contemplate him clothed with the dignity of buddha. i bewail with tears my great misfortune." with a view of assuaging his sorrow, kaladewila, casting another glance towards future events, eagerly sought to discover if, among his relatives, there would not be at least one who would be so fortunate as to see phralaong in the nature of buddha. he saw with inexpressible delight that his nephew nalaka would enjoy the blessing denied to himself. thereupon he went in all haste to his sister's house, inquiring about her son. at his request the lad was brought into his presence. "beloved nephew," said the venerable rathee, "thirty-five years hence,[ ] the son of king thoodaudana will become a buddha; you will contemplate him in that sublime and exalted nature. from this day, therefore, you shall embrace the profession of rahan." the young man, who descended from a long succession of wealthy noblemen, said within himself, "my uncle, indeed, never says anything but under the impulse of irresistible and cogent motives. i will follow his advice and will become a recluse." he immediately ordered the purchase of the insignia of his new profession, a patta, a thingan,[ ] and other articles. his head was shaved, and he put on the yellow garb. attired in his new dress, he looked all round, and saw that, amongst all beings, the rahans are by far the most excellent. then turning towards the place which phralaong occupied, he prostrated himself five successive times in that direction, rose up, placed the patta in its bag, threw it over his shoulder, and directed his steps towards the solitude of himawonta, where he devoted himself to all the exercises of his profession. at the time phralaong became a buddha, our hermit went to that great master, learnt from him the works that lead to the state of perfect stability of mind, returned back to his solitude, and attained to the perfection of rahanda by the practice of the eminent works. seven months after his return, the end of his existence arrived, when, disentangled from all the ties that had hitherto kept him in the world of passions, he reached the happy state of neibban. footnotes [ ] this country of dewah is one of the sixteen countries, so much celebrated in the buddhistic annals, where the greatest religious events have taken place. they are placed in the centre, north, and north-west portions of hindustan. in this place was born the celebrated dewadat, who became brother-in-law to buddha himself. but notwithstanding the close ties of relationship that united him to so saintly a personage, dewadat is represented as the incarnation of evil, ever opposed to buddha in his benevolent designs in favour of human kind. at last, in an attempt against his brother-in-law's life, he met with a condign punishment. the earth burst open under his feet, and, surrounded by devouring flames, he rolled down to the bottom of the lowest hell, acknowledging, however, in the accents of a true but tardy repentance, his errors and the unconquerable power of buddha. three red-hot iron bars transfix him perpendicularly, hanging him in an erect position, whilst three other bars pierce him through the shoulders and the side. for his repentance he is to be delivered hereafter from those torments, and restored to earth, in order to acquire merits that may entitle him to a better place in future existences. some accounts mention that he is to become a pietzega buddha. this story respecting dewadat has given rise in burmah to a very strange misconception. the burmese, with their usual thoughtlessness, on hearing of the particulars respecting the sufferings and mode of death of our saviour, concluded that he must have been no other but dewadat himself, and that, for holding opinions opposite to those of buddha, he suffered such a punishment. the writer was not a little surprised to find in the writings of the old barnabite missionaries a lengthened confutation of this erroneous supposition. [ ] according to buddhistic notions, buddha labours during his mortal career for the benefit of all living beings. his benevolent and compassionate heart, free from all partiality, feels an ardent desire of opening before them the way that leads to deliverance from the miseries of every succeeding existence, and of bringing them finally to the never troubled state of neibban. such a generous and benevolent disposition constitutes the genuine characteristic of buddha. the brahmas, inhabiting the sixteen seats of rupa, are all but ripe for obtaining the crowning point of buddhistic perfection. they only wait for the presence of a buddha to unloose, by his preachings, the slender ties that keep them still connected with this material world. the nats, though far less advanced in merits and perfection, eagerly look forward for the apparition of that great personage, who is to point out to them the means of freeing themselves from the influence of passions, and thereby destroying in them the principle of demerits. men, also, in their state of probation and trial, want the mighty aid of a buddha, who will enable them by his transcendent doctrine to advance in merits, so as either to arrive at once at the ever-quiescent state of neibban, or progress gradually on the way. hence, on his birth, buddha is ministered to by those three sorts of intelligent beings, who are particularly destined to share in the blessings his coming is designed to shower on them. the mission of a buddha is that of a saviour. his great object, to make use of a buddhistic expression, is, during his existence, to procure the deliverance of all the beings that will listen to his instructions and observe the precepts of the law. he is distinguished by feelings of compassion and an ardent love for all beings, as well as by an earnest desire of labouring for their welfare. these are the true characteristics of his heart. in this religious system mention is often made of pitzegabuddhas, who have all the science and merits of a buddha, but they are deficient in the above-mentioned qualities, which form, as it were, the essence of a true and genuine buddha. they are never therefore honoured with the noble appellation of buddha. [ ] the chinese, cochin-chinese, cingalese, and nepaulese legends all agree in attributing to phralaong the use of reason from the moment he was born, as well as the power of uttering with a proud accent the following words: "i am the greatest of all beings; this is my last existence." to his own eyes he must have appeared in this world without any competitor, since he knew already that he was destined to release countless beings from the trammels of existence, and lead them to a state of perfect rest, screened for ever from the incessant action of merits and demerits. he alone whose mind is deeply imbued with buddhistic notions can boast exultingly that he has at length arrived at his last existence, and that, within a few years, he will escape out of the whirlpool of endless existences, wherein he has been turning and fluctuating from a state of happiness to one of wretchedness. this perpetual vicissitude is to him the greatest evil, the opposite of which is, therefore, the greatest good. no wonder, then, to hear our phralaong, who was better acquainted with the miseries attending existence than any one else, exclaiming with the accents of a complete joy--"this is my last existence." the burmese translator seems delighted to remark that on two former occasions phralaong, then an infant, had spoken distinct words, which he addressed to his mother. this happened in the beginning of the two existences during which he practised two of the ten great virtues. it took place first on the day he was born to that existence, when, under the name of mahauthata, he displayed consummate skill and wisdom. the legend of mahauthata is a very amusing performance, written in a very pure language, and relating stories about as credible as those we read in the arabian tales of a thousand and one nights. what surprised the writer not a little, was to find, in perusing that composition, a decision given by our mahauthata, in a case perfectly similar to that which showed forth, in the presence of all israel, the incomparable wisdom of solomon. when phralaong practised the last and most perfect of virtues, liberality, carried to its farthest limits, ending in perfect abnegation of self, and renouncing all that he possessed, he entered, too, into this world with the faculty of speech, and became a prince under the name of wethandra. the legend of wethandra is by far the best of all. taking it as a mere romance, it is replete with circumstantial details well calculated to excite the finest emotions of the heart. the latter part, in particular, can scarcely be read without heart-moving feelings of pity and commiseration, on beholding our phralaong parting willingly with all his property, with his wife and his lovely children, and finally offering his own person, to satisfy the ever-renewed calls on his unbounded generosity. [ ] in burmah the use of the white umbrella is limited to the king and idols. the former can never move without having some one to hold over his head this distinguishing mark of royalty. any one who has been introduced into the palace of amerapoora will not have forgotten how great was his satisfaction on beholding the white umbrella towering above the sides of passages, and moving in the direction he was sitting in. he knew that the time of his expectation was at an end, and that in a moment he would behold the golden face. [ ] in glancing over the genealogy of the twenty-eight last buddhas, the writer has observed that every buddha has always obtained the supreme intelligence under the shadow of some trees. our phralaong, as will be seen hereafter, attained to the exalted dignity of buddha under the tree baudhi (_ficus religiosa_), which grew up spontaneously at the very moment he was born. the writer has never been able to discover any well-grounded reason to account for this remarkable circumstance, so carefully noted down, relating the particulars attending the elevation of a being to this high station. for want of a better one, he will be permitted to hazard the following conjecture. our phralaong, previous to his becoming a buddha, withdrew into solitude for the purpose of fitting himself for his future calling, in imitation of all his predecessors, leading an ascetic life, and devoting all his undivided attention and mental energies to meditation and contemplation, coupled with works of the most rigorous mortification. the senses, he knew well, were to be submitted to the uncontrolled sway of reason, by allowing to himself only what was barely requisite for supporting nature. regardless of every comfort, his mind was bent upon acquiring the sublime knowledge of the principle and origin of all things, on fathoming the miseries of all beings, and on endeavouring to discover the most efficacious means of affording them a thorough relief, by pointing out to them the road they had to follow in order to disentangle themselves from the trammels of existence, and arrive at a state of perfect rest. in common with all other ascetics, our phralaong had no other shelter against the inclemency of the seasons but the protecting shadow of trees. it was under the cooling and refreshing foliage of the trees of the forests, that he spent his time in the placid and undisturbed work of meditation, acquiring gradually that matchless knowledge and consummate wisdom which he needed for carrying on to perfection the benevolent undertaking he had in contemplation. [ ] it is a maxim generally received amongst buddhists, that he who has far advanced in the way of perfection acquires extraordinary privileges both in his soul and his body. the latter obtains a sort of spiritualised nature, or rather matter becomes so refined and purified that he is enabled to travel over distances with almost the rapidity of the thought of the mind. the former, by the help of continual meditation on the causes and nature of all things, enlarges incessantly its sphere of knowledge. the remembrance of the past revives in the mind. from the lofty position such a being is placed in, he calmly considers and watches the movement of events that will take place in future times. the more his mind expands, and the sphere of his knowledge extends, the greater are the perfections and refinements attending the coarser part of his being. [ ] according to the prophecy of kaladewila, phralaong is to become buddha when thirty-five years old. the total duration of his life being eighty years, it follows that he has lived as buddha forty-five years. the advice of the old rathee to his nephew nalaka, to become a rahan in order to better dispose himself to welcome the coming of buddha, and listen with greater benefit to his preachings, leads me to make a remark and write down an observation that has been already alluded to. from this passage and many others which the reader will easily notice hereafter, as well as from the example of buddha himself, one must suppose that at the time phralaong was born, some institutions, the most important one at least, viz., that of the rahans, recluses, or monks, already existed in a more or less perfect state. relying solely on the authority of this legend, no attempt at denying this supposition can ever be made. kaladewila speaks of the order of rahans as of a thing well known. nalaka sends to the bazaar for the purchase of the dress and other articles he wanted for his new mode of life. phralaong, on his way to his garden, sees a rahan, whose habits and manners are described to him by his coachman. having become buddha, he meets with ascetics and recluses living in community, leading a life much resembling that which he is supposed to have hereafter instituted, holding but few opinions, which, according to his own standard, were heretical. from these facts flows the natural conclusion that gaudama is not the inventor or originator of all the buddhistic disciplinary institutions. he found among the multifarious sects of brahminism many practices and ordinances which he approved of and incorporated or embodied in his new system. this is another proof, amounting to a demonstration, that buddhism is an offshoot of the great hindu system. in this respect, gaudama borrowed largely from what he found existing in his own days, in the schools he resorted to, and re-echoed many tenets upheld by the masters under whom he studied the sciences and the training to morals and virtue. he enlarged and developed certain favourite theories and principles which had found favour with him; at the same time, for the purpose of leading his disciples to perfection, he enforced many disciplinary regulations, almost similar to those he had been subjected to during the years of his probation. he was certainly an ardent promoter of the perfected and improved system he endeavoured to introduce. [ ] the thingan or tsiwaran is composed of three parts--the thinbaing, resembling an ample petticoat, bound up to the waist, with a leathern girdle, and falling down to the heels; the kowot, which consists of a sort of cloak of a rectangular shape, covering the shoulders and breast, and reaching somewhat below the knee; and the dougout, which is a piece of cloth of the same shape, folded many times, thrown over the left shoulder when going abroad, and used to sit on when no proper seat has been prepared. the colour of these three pieces, constituting the dress of a recluse, is invariably yellow. the jack-tree supplies the material for dyeing the cloth yellow. in order to maintain a spirit of perfect poverty among the members of the order of the recluse, the wini prescribes that the tsiwaran ought to be made up with rags picked up here and there, and sewed together. the rule, in this respect, at least as far as its spirit goes, is thoroughly disregarded, and has become almost a dead letter. the hairs of the head and the beard, being too often objects which vanity turns to its own purposes, are, to say the least, mere superfluities. a stern contemner of worldly things must, of course, do away with things which may prove temptations to him, or at least afford him unnecessary trouble. hence no layman can ever aspire to become a rahan unless he has previously submitted to the operation of a complete shaving of the head, including even the eye-brows. chapter iii. _a name is given to the child -- prediction of the pounhas respecting the child -- death of maia -- miraculous occurrence at the child's cradle -- adolescence of the phralaong -- he sees the four signs -- return from the garden to the royal city._ five days after the birth of phralaong, took place the ceremony of washing the head and giving him a name. in the apartment of the palace several kinds of perfumed wood and essences, such as sandal-wood, lignum, aloes, camphor, &c., were strewed profusely, as well as the most exquisitely scented flowers and parched rice. the nogana (a sort of beverage made of milk, sugar, and honey) was prepared in great abundance. one hundred and eighty pounhas,[ ] the most versed in the science of astrology, were invited to partake of a splendid entertainment in the palace. the king made to every one of them costly presents, and desired them to examine carefully all the signs, prognosticating the future destiny of his son. amidst that crowd of soothsayers, eight pounhas were present, who explained the dream that maia had in the beginning of her pregnancy. seven of them, lifting up the index[ ] of each hand of the child, were amazed at the wonderful signs their eyes met. "if this child," said they, "remain in the society of men, he will become a mighty ruler that will bring all nations under his sway; but if he embrace the profession of recluse, he will certainly become a buddha." they began to foretell the incomparable glory and high honours that would attend his universal reign. the eighth pounha, named kauntagnia, the descendant of the celebrated son of thoodata, and the youngest of all, raised up the index of one hand of the child. struck with the wonderful and unmistakable signs that forced themselves on his view, he exclaimed, "no! this child will not remain long in the society of men; he will free himself from the vicissitudes[ ] and miseries attending the existence of all beings, and will finally become a buddha." as the child was to be the instrument for promoting the welfare and merits of all mortals, they gave him the name of theiddat. seven days after her confinement maia died, and by the virtue of her merits migrated to the seat of toocita, and became the daughter of a nat.[g] her death was not the result of her delivery, but she departed this world because the term of her life had come. on their return to their home, the pounhas assembled their children and said to them, "we are already advanced in years. we dare not promise to ourselves that we will ever see the son of king thoodaudana become a buddha; but to you such a favour is reserved. listen respectfully to all his instructions, and endeavour to enter the profession of rahan without delay, and withdraw into solitude. let us also all join you in that holy vocation." three pounhas refused the invitation, and would not enter the profession. the five others cheerfully gave up everything, and became distinguished members of the ascetic body. [g] maia was confined in the beginning of the third age. this expression is rather a very loose and general one, and is far from indicating, with any approach to accuracy, the period of maia's age when she was delivered of her son. the age of man is divided into three parts. the first extends from birth to the sixteenth or eighteenth year; the second goes to the forty-fifth year or thereabout; and the third, from the forty-fifth year to the end of life. phralaong was born on the th year of the eatzana era, on the th after the full moon of the month katsong. maia was therefore fifty-six years old. the author of this work strives hard to prove this the age, apparently advanced of maia, was the best fitted for securing the safety and perfection of the fruit of her womb. king thoodaudana, hearing of the explanation given by the pounhas, inquired whether his son was really to become a rahan. having been assured that all the signs predicted the future destiny of his son to such a calling, he desired to know what those signs were. he was told that the four following things were the very signs foreshowing the future career of his son, viz., an old man, a sick man, a dead man, and a recluse.[ ] as soon as his son should successively remark those four signs, he would immediately come to the conclusion that the state of rahan alone is worthy of the warm admiration and eager wishes of a wise man. king thoodaudana, who ardently wished to see his son become a great monarch, whose sway would extend over the four great islands and the two thousand smaller ones, gave the strictest orders that none of the four omens should ever meet his eyes. guards were placed in every direction at distances of a mile, charged with but one care, that of keeping out of his son's sight the appearance of these fatal omens. on that day eighty thousand noblemen, who were present at the great rejoicings, pledged themselves each one to give one of his male children to attend on the royal infant. "if he become," said they, "a mighty monarch, let our sons be ever with him, as a guard of honour to confer additional lustre on his wonderful reign. if he be ever elevated to the sublime dignity of buddha, let our children enter the holy profession of recluse, and follow him whithersoever he may direct his steps." thoodaudana, with the tender solicitude of a vigilant father, procured for his beloved offspring nurses exempt from all corporeal defects, and remarkable for their beautiful and graceful appearance. the child grew up, surrounded with a brilliant retinue of numerous attendants. on a certain day happened the joyful feast of the ploughing season. the whole country, by the magnificence of the ornaments that decorated it, resembled one of the seats of nats. the country people without exception, wearing new dresses, went to the palace. one thousand ploughs and the same number of pairs of bullocks were prepared for the occasion. eight hundred ploughs, less one, were to be handled and guided by noblemen. the ploughs, as well as the yokes and the horns of the bullocks, were covered with silver leaves. but the one reserved for the monarch was covered with leaves of gold. accompanied by a countless crowd of his people, king thoodaudana left the royal city and went into the middle of extensive fields. the royal infant was brought out by his nurses on this joyful occasion. a splendid jambu tree (_eugenia_), loaded with thick and luxuriant green foliage, offered on that spot a refreshing place under the shade of its far-spreading branches. here the bed of the child was deposited. a gilt canopy was immediately raised above it, and curtains, embroidered with gold, were disposed round it. guardians having been appointed to watch over the infant, the king, attended by all his courtiers, directed his steps towards the place where all the ploughs were held in readiness. he instantly put his hands to his own plough; eight hundred noblemen, less one, and the country people followed his example. pressing forward his bullocks, the king ploughed to and fro through the extent of the fields. all the ploughmen, emulating their royal lord, drove their ploughs in a uniform direction. the scene presented a most animated and stirring spectacle on an immense scale. the applauding multitude filled the air with cries of joy and exultation. the nurses, who kept watch by the side of the infant's cradle, excited by the animated scene, forgot the prince's orders, and ran near to the spot to enjoy the soul-stirring sight displayed before their admiring eyes. phralaong, casting a glance all round, and seeing no one close by him, rose up instantly, and, sitting in a cross-legged position, remained absorbed as it were in a profound meditation. the other nurses, busy in preparing the prince's meal, had spent more time than was at first contemplated. the shadow of the trees had, by the movement of the sun, turned in an opposite direction. the nurses, reminded by this sight that the infant had been left alone, and that his couch was exposed to the rays of the sun, hastened back to the spot they had so imprudently left. but great was their surprise when they saw that the shadow of the jambu tree had not changed its position, and that the child was quietly sitting on his bed. the news of that wonder was immediately conveyed to king thoodaudana, who came in all haste to witness it. he forthwith prostrated himself before his son, saying, "this is, beloved child, the second time that i bow to you." phralaong[ ] having reached his sixteenth year, his father ordered three palaces to be built for each season of the year. each palace had nine stories; and forty thousand maidens, skilful in playing all sorts of musical instruments, were in continual attendance upon him, and charmed all his moments by uninterrupted dances and music. phralaong appeared among them with the beauty and dignity of a nat, surrounded with an immense retinue of daughters of nats. according to the change of seasons he passed from one palace into another, moving as it were in a circle of ever-renewed pleasures and amusements. it was then that phralaong was married to the beautiful yathaudara, his first cousin, and the daughter of thouppabudha and of amitau. it was in the eighty-sixth year of his grandfather's era that he was married, and also consecrated prince royal by the pouring of the blessed water over his head. whilst phralaong was spending his time in the midst of pleasures, his relatives complained to the king of the conduct of his son. they strongly remonstrated against his mode of living, which precluded him from applying himself to the acquisition of those attainments befitting his exalted station. sensible of these reproaches, thoodaudana sent for his son, to whom he made known the complaints directed against him by his relatives. without showing any emotion, the young prince replied, "let it be announced at the sound of the drum throughout the country, that this day week i will show to my relatives in the presence of the best masters that i am fully conversant with the eighteen sorts of arts and sciences." on the appointed day he displayed before them the extent of his knowledge; they were satisfied, and their doubts and anxieties on his account were entirely removed. on a certain day phralaong, desiring to go and enjoy some sports in his garden, ordered his coachman to have his conveyance ready for that purpose. four horses, richly caparisoned, were put to a beautiful carriage, that resembled the dwelling-place of a nat. phralaong having occupied his seat, the coachman drove rapidly towards the garden. the nats, who knew that the time was near at hand when phralaong would become a buddha, resolved to place successively before his eyes the four signs foreshowing his future high dignity. one of them assumed the form of an old man, the body bending forward, with grey hairs, a shrivelled skin, and leaning languidly on a heavy staff. in that attire, he advanced slowly, with trembling steps, towards the prince's conveyance. he was seen and remarked only by phralaong and his coachman. "who is that man?" said the prince to his driver; "the hairs of his head, indeed, do not resemble those of other men." "prince," answered the coachman, "he is an old man. every born being is doomed to become like him; his appearance must undergo the greatest changes, the skin by the action of time will shrivel, the hairs turn grey, the veins and arteries, losing their suppleness and elasticity, will become stiff and hardened, the flesh will gradually sink and almost disappear, leaving the bare bones covered with dry skin." "what?" said to himself the terrified prince; "birth is indeed a great evil, ushering all beings into a wretched condition, which must be inevitably attended with the disgusting infirmities of old age!" his mind being taken up entirely with such considerations, he ordered his coachman to drive back to the palace. thoodaudana, having inquired from his courtiers what motive had induced his son to return so soon from the place of amusement, was told that he had seen an old man, and that he entertained the thought of becoming a rahan.[h] "alas!" said he, "they will succeed in thwarting the high destiny of my son. but let us try now every means to afford him some distraction, so that he may forget the evil idea that has just started up in his mind." he gave orders to bring to his son's palace the prettiest and most accomplished dancing-girls, that, in the midst of ever renewed pleasure, he might lose sight of the thought of ever entering the profession of rahan. the guard surrounding his palace was doubled, so as to preclude the possibility of his ever seeing the other signs. [h] in the course of this work the word rahan is often used. it is of the greatest importance that the reader should firmly seize the meaning that it is designed to convey. we find it employed to designate, in general, the religious belonging either to the buddhistic or brahminical sects. when buddhists happen to mention their brethren of the opposite creed, who have renounced the world and devoted themselves to the practice of religious duties, they invariably call them rahans. when they speak of pounhas or brahmins, who are living in the world, leading an ordinary secular mode of life, they never style them rahans. thence we may safely infer that the individuals to whom this denomination was applied formed a class of devotees quite distinct from the laymen. that class, it appears, comprised all the individuals who lived either in community under the superintendence and guidance of a spiritual superior, or privately in forests under the protecting shade of trees, and in lonely and solitary places. the latter religious are, however, generally designated by the appellation of ascetics and rathees. they were the forefathers of those fanatics who up to our days have appeared through the breadth and length of the indian peninsula, practising penitential deeds of the most cruel and revolting description. they are described by buddhists as wearing curled and twisted hair, clad in the skins of wild beasts, and not unfrequently quite destitute of any sort of clothing, and in a state of complete nakedness. the former, who lived in community, did not lead the same course of life. we find some communities, the three, for instance, under the guidance of the three kathabas, in the ouroowela forest, not far from radzagio, whose inmates are called either rahans or rathees. this indicates that their mode of life partook both of the common and hermitical life, resembling, to a certain extent, that which was observed by the christian communities of cenobites established in the desert of upper egypt during the first ages of our era. those communities appear to have been the centres in which principles were established, opinions discussed, and theories elaborated. the chiefs enjoyed high reputation for learning. persons desirous to acquire proficiency in science resorted to their abode, and, under their tuition, strove to acquire wisdom. the following pages of this work will afford several striking illustrations of the view just sketched out. on another day, phralaong, on his way to his garden, met with the same nat under the form of a sick man, who appeared quite sinking under the weight of the most loathsome disease. frightened at such a sight, phralaong, hearing from the mouth of his faithful driver what this disgusting object was, returned in all haste to his palace. his father, more and more disturbed at the news conveyed to him, multiplied the pleasures and enjoyments destined for his son, and doubled the number of guards that had to watch over him. on a third occasion, whilst the prince was taking a walk, the same nat, assuming the shape of a dead man, offered to the astonished regards of the prince the shocking sight of a corpse. trembling with fear, the young prince came back forthwith to his residence. thoodaudana, being soon informed of what had taken place, resorted to fresh precautions, and extended to the distance of one youdzana the immense line of countless guards set all round the palace. on a fourth occasion, the prince, driving rapidly towards his garden, was met on his way by the same nat under the meek form of a rahan. the curiosity of the prince was awakened by the extraordinary sight of that new personage: he asked his coachman what he was. "prince," answered the coachman, "he is a rahan." at the same time, though little acquainted with the high dignity and sublime qualifications of a recluse, he was enabled, by the power of the nats, to praise and extol in dignified language the profession and merits of rahans. the prince felt instantaneously an almost irresistible inclination to embrace that attractive mode of life. he quietly went as far as his garden. the whole day was spent in all sorts of rural diversions. having bathed in a magnificent tank, he went a little before sunset to rest awhile on a large well-polished stone table, overshaded by the far-spread branches of beautiful trees hanging above it, waiting for the time to put on his richest dress. all his attendants were busily engaged in preparing the finest clothes and most elegant ornaments. when all was ready, they stood silent round him, waiting for his orders. perfumes of every description were disposed in a circular row with the various ornaments on the table whereon the prince was sitting. at that very moment a chief thagia was quietly enjoying a delicious and refreshing rest on the famous stone table called pantoo kambala. on a sudden, he felt his seat as it were getting hot. "lo! what does this mean?" said the astonished thagia; "am i doomed to lose my happy state?" having recollected himself, and reflected a while on the cause of such a wonderful occurrence, he soon knew that phralaong was preparing to put on for the last time his princely dress. he called to him the son of a nat, named withakioon, and said to him, "on this day, at midnight, prince theiddat is to leave his palace and withdraw into solitude. now he is in his garden, preparing to put on his richest attire for the last time. go, therefore, without a moment's delay, to the place where he is sitting, surrounded by his attendants, and perform to him all the required services." bowing respectfully to the chief of thagias, withakioon obeyed, and by the power inherent in the nature of nats, he was in an instant carried to the presence of phralaong. he assumed the figure of his barber, and immediately set to work to arrange the turban with as much taste as art round his head. phralaong soon found out that the skilful hand which disposed the folds of his head-dress was not that of a man, but of a nat. one fold of the turban appeared like one thousand, and ten folds like ten thousand folds, offering the magical _coup-d'oeil_ of as many different pieces of cloth, arranged with the most consummate skill. the extremity of the turban, which crossed vertically the whole breadth of the countless folds, appeared covered with a profusion of shining rubies. the head of phralaong was small, but the folds of the turban seemed numberless. how could that be so? it is a wonder surpassing our understanding; it would be rashness and temerity to allow our minds to dwell too much upon it. having completely dressed, phralaong[ ] found himself surrounded by all sorts of musicians, singers, and dancers, vying with each other in their endeavours to increase the rejoicing. the pounhas sang aloud his praise. "may he conquer and triumph! may his wishes and desires be ever fulfilled!" the multitude repeated incessantly in his honour stanzas of praises and blessings. in the midst of universal rejoicings, phralaong ascended his carriage. he had scarcely seated himself on it, when a message, sent by his father, conveyed to him the gladdening tidings that yathaudara had been delivered of a son. "that child," replied he with great coolness, "is a new and strong tie that i will have to break." the answer having been brought to his father, thoodaudana could not understand its meaning. he, however, caused his grandson to be named raoula. phralaong, sitting in his carriage, surrounded by crowds of people, who rent the air with cries of joy and jubilation, entered into the city of kapilawot. at that moment a princess, named keissa gautami, was contemplating from her apartments the triumphant entrance of phralaong into the city. she admired the noble and graceful deportment of prince theiddat, and exclaimed with feelings of inexpressible delight, "happy the father and mother who have such an incomparable son! happy the wife who is blest with such an accomplished husband!" on hearing those words, phralaong desired to understand their meaning and know their bearing. "by what means," said he to himself, "can a heart find peace and happiness?" as his heart was already disentangled from the thraldom of passions, he readily perceived that real happiness could be found but in the extinction of concupiscence, pride, ignorance, and other passions. he resolved henceforth to search ardently for the happy state of neibban, by quitting the world that very night, leaving the society of men, and withdrawing into solitude. detaching from his neck a collar of pearls of immense value, he sent it to keissa gautami, as a token of gratitude for the excellent lesson she had given him by the words which she had uttered in his praise. the young princess received it as a mark of favour which she imagined prince theiddat intended to pay her. without further notice of her, he retired into his own apartment to enjoy some rest. footnotes [ ] which of the two systems, buddhism or brahminism, is the most ancient? this is a question which learned orientalists have in former days variously answered. if, however, some credit is to be given to this legend, and the hero thereof is to be regarded as the author of buddhism, the solution of that much-controverted question is comparatively easy, and seems to admit of no doubt. priority of antiquity is decidedly in favour of brahminism. at the time buddha was born, and in his own country, we find already subsisting the great politico-religious fabric of hinduism. the distinction of caste is already mentioned in several passages. we find the pounhas or brahmins already monopolising the lucrative trade of soothsaying, and regarded as the best informed among their countrymen. they are treated with great respect and consideration even by proud monarchs, who testify their regard for them by costly presents and every possible mark of distinction. it is true that their caste is not always spoken of with great regard by buddhist authors; but this is to be attributed to the deadly enmity that prevailed at a later period between those two great rival sects, which have so long struggled for supremacy over the indian peninsula. the brahminical creed is spoken of in very disparaging terms by buddhists; and, as a matter of course, they have been reciprocally handled severely by their opponents. to those who feel inclined to regard buddha as but a great reformer of a religious system already existing, the question will not appear cleared of all difficulty. but upon them rests the task of establishing on uncontrovertible grounds their hypothesis, ere any serious attention can be paid to the conclusion they would fain infer in favour of the superior antiquity of buddhism. as for us, we believe buddha to be the real author of the great religious system under examination. but, at the same time, we readily concede that many elements found existing in those days were seized upon by buddha, and skilfully arranged so as to harmonise well with his plans. [ ] superstition and ignorance seem to have been in all ages and under every climate the prolific source of human follies and mental delusions. man has always been and will ever be the same ridiculously superstitious being, as long as his mind is left to itself, unenlightened by revelation. with few exceptions, the greatest men of italy and greece were as superstitious as the _vulgus_, to whom, in every other respect, they were so superior. the resemblance error bears to truth, when human passions have some interest at stake, deceives many; under deceitful appearances it finds its way to the mind, and then clings to the heart. there is in man an innate desire of tearing asunder the thick veil that hides from him the knowledge of future events. unable to comprehend the perfect economy of an all-wise providence in the disposition and management of the affairs of this world, he has recourse to the most absurd means for satiating the cravings of his inordinate curiosity. hence the prevailing superstition of those days, which induced men to believe that brahmins, on inspecting the inner part of the hand, could discover certain signs, foreshowing the good or bad destiny of every individual. [ ] metempsychosis, or the transmigration of the soul from one state of existence into another in the same world, is one of the leading dogmas of buddhism. many passages of the present work, or rather the buddhistic system as a whole, can never be understood unless this tenet be always borne in mind. it is by passing through countless existences that a being is slowly purified of his imperfections, and gradually advances in the way of merits and perfection. the sacred writings of buddhists mention that our phralaong had to range, during innumerable existences, the whole series of the animal kingdom, from the dove to the elephant, ere he could be born in the state of man, when, in this condition, he, as stated by himself, went often into hell to atone for certain trespassings. pythagoras had likely borrowed, and received directly or indirectly from the east, this doctrine, which his school re-echoed throughout greece and italy. the end of metempsychosis is, according to buddhists, the state of neibban. on this point the author of buddhism has been at variance with other religious schools, which in his own days held and professed the dogma of transmigration. [ ] the three first allegorical omens or signs which, according to the foretelling of the pounhas, were to be seen and observed hereafter by phralaong, are designed to mean and express the compound of all miseries attending human existence, from the moment man crosses the threshold of life to that of death. the view of these objects was intended to make him disgusted with a state necessarily accompanied with such an amount of wretchedness. he was soon induced by reflection to hold in contempt the things of this world, and consequently to seek with ardour some means of estranging himself from all visible and material objects. the fourth sign, that is to say, the view of a rahan, or a contemner of this world, aspiring to perfect disengagement from the trammels of passion, and shaping his course towards neibban, was the very pattern he had to imitate and follow for arriving to that state of perfection which he felt a strong, though as yet somewhat confused, desire of possessing. the nats or dewatas are the ever-ready ministers for affording to phralaong the assistance he requires to reach in safety the buddhaship. they rejoice at the news of his approaching conception in the womb of maia; they watch over the mother who is to give birth to so blessed a child; they receive the newly-born infant, and hand him over to men; they baffle, by their almost supernatural power, the obstacles which the worldly-minded thoodaudana tries to throw in the way of his son's vocation; in a word, their angelical ministrations are always at hand to help and protect our phralaong, and enable him to reach that state wherein he shall be fully qualified for announcing to men the law of deliverance. the belief in the agency of angels between heaven and earth, and their being the messengers of god for conveying, on solemn occasions, his mandates to men, is coeval, according to sacred records, with the appearance of man in this world. innumerable are the instances of angelical ministrations mentioned in the holy writ. we look upon angels as mere spiritual substances, assuming a human form, when, by the command of god, they have to bring down to men some divine message. in the system of the buddhists, nats are described as having bodies indeed, but of such a pure nature, particularly those inhabiting the superior seats, that they are not only not subjected to the miseries inherent in our nature, but are moreover gifted with such superior attainments as almost to enjoy the perfections and qualifications inherent in the nature of spirits. on this occasion the nats are endeavouring to make virtue triumph over vice; but, in the course of this legend, we will have several opportunities of remarking a counteraction worked up by evil or wicked nats for upholding the reign of passion or of sin. in this system the two contending elements of good and evil have each its own advocates and supporters. a hindu milton might have found two thousand years ago a ready theme for writing, in sanscrit or pali, a poem similar to that more recently composed by the immortal english bard. [ ] from what has been already mentioned of the life of our phralaong, we may see that many particulars regarding his birth and his childhood have been described with sufficient accuracy; but little or nothing is said of his adolescence, at least until the age of sixteen, when he gets united to the famous and youthful yathaudara. in common with many other great men, almost all the years of the private life of this celebrated and extraordinary personage are wrapped up in a complete obscurity. we may conclude from his great proficiency in the knowledge of those sciences and attainments befitting his high situation, he was not remiss, since he was enabled to set at defiance the greatest masters of those days. in the midst of pleasures he knew how to devote the best part of his time to study, unless we suppose that science was infused into his mind by no exertion of his own. the burmese have a regular mania for dividing with a mathematical precision what at first appears to admit of no such division. virtues, vices, sciences, arts, &c., all, in a word, are subjected to a rigorous division, which, if arbitrary in itself, has the great advantage of conferring a substantial help to the memory. [ ] the triumphant return of phralaong from his garden to the city, when he is attired with the richest dress, is commemorated by buddhists, at least in burmah, on the day a young boy is preparing to enter into a monastery of recluses for the purpose of putting on the yellow robe, and preparing himself to become afterwards a member of the order, if he feel an inclination to enlist in its ranks. phralaong was bidding a last farewell to the world, its pomps and vanities. so the youthful candidate is doing who is led processionally through the streets, riding a richly-caparisoned horse, or sitting on an elegant palanquin, carried on the shoulders of men. a description of this ceremony will be found in the notice on the buddhistic monks or talapoins. i am obliged to confess that i have found it somewhat difficult to discover any connection between the expressions made use of by keissa gautami and the inference drawn therefrom by phralaong. the explanation of the difficulty may be, however, stated as follows:--gautami bestows the epithet happy or blessed upon the father and mother as well as on the wife of prince theiddat, because she remarked and observed in him those qualities and accomplishments befitting a worthy son and a good husband. the words blessed and happy struck the mind of the future buddha, attracted his attention, and drew forth his exertions to find out their true import. he asks himself, in what consists true and real happiness? where is it to be found? by what means can such an invaluable treasure be procured? can it be conferred upon man by the possession of some exterior object? can his parents or wife be really happy by the mere accidental ties that connect them with his person? no, answers our young philosopher to himself: happiness can be procured but by waging war against passions, and carrying it on until their total destruction. then the victorious soul, sitting calmly on the ruins of her deadly opponents, enjoys in the undisturbed contemplation of truth an indescribable happiness. in this we clearly perceive the unmistakable bearing of buddhistic morals. it is as it were the embryo of the whole system. king thoodaudana, influenced by worldly considerations, eagerly wished his son to become a great monarch instead of a poor and humble recluse, even a buddha. this alone suggests the idea that in those days the _rôle_ of a buddha was not held in so great an esteem and veneration as it was afterwards. had it been otherwise, the most ambitious father might have remained well satisfied with the certainty of seeing his own son becoming a personage before whom the proudest monarch would one day lower to the dust their crowned heads. at that time a buddha, or the personage honoured with that title, was looked upon as a mere sage, distinguished among his fellow-men by his great wisdom and eminent proficiency in the study of philosophy. it is highly probable that this name had been bestowed upon a great many illustrious individuals who lived before the days of gaudama. hence the fabricated genealogy of twenty-eight former buddhas, supposed to have lived myriads of years and worlds previously, including the three that have preceded him during the continuance of this system of nature. here a superstitious and ill-judged enthusiasm has raised up heaps of extravagancies, setting up a ridiculous theory, designed to connect the _rôle_ of the present buddha with those of a fabulous antiquity, and give additional lustre to it. there is no doubt that the glowing halo of sacredness and glory, encircling now the name of buddha, has never adorned that of any former one. it has been created by the extraordinary progress his doctrines made at first in the indian peninsula, and next throughout eastern asia, and kept up by the fervent admiration of his enthusiastic followers. the means resorted to by thoodaudana to retain his son in the world of passions, and thereby thwart his vocation, could not, we hardly need mention, be approved of by any moralist of even the greatest elasticity of conscience and principles; but they were eminently fitted to try the soundness of phralaong's calling, and the strong and tenacious dispositions of his energetic mind. they set out in vivid colours the firmness of purpose and irresistible determination of his soul in following up his vocation to a holier mode of life; and what is yet more wonderful, the very objects that were designed to enslave him became the instruments which helped him in gaining and ascertaining his liberty. magnificent, indeed, is the spectacle offered by a young prince remaining unmoved in the midst of the most captivating, soul-stirring, and heart-melting attractions; sitting coolly on his couch, and looking with indifference, nay, with disgust, on the crowd of sleeping beauties. chapter iv. _phralaong leaves his palace, the royal city, and retires into solitude, amidst the plaudits of the nats -- he cuts his fine hair with a stroke of his sword, and puts on the habit of rahan -- he begs his food at radzagio -- his interview with the ruler of that place -- his studies under two rathees -- his fast and penances in the solitude of oorouwela during six years._ phralaong had scarcely begun to recline on his couch, when a crowd of young damsels, whose beauty equalled that of the daughters of nats, executed all sorts of dances to the sound of the most ravishing symphony, and displayed in all their movements the graceful forms of their elegant and well-shaped persons, in order to make some impression upon his heart. but all was in vain; they were foiled in their repeated attempts. phralaong fell into a deep sleep. the damsels, in their disappointment, ceased their dances, laid aside their musical instruments, and, soon following the example of phralaong, quietly yielded to the soporific influence caused by their useless and harassing exertions. the lamps, lighted with fragrant oil, continued to pour a flood of bright light throughout the apartments. phralaong awoke a little before midnight, and sat in a cross-legged position on his couch. looking all around him, he saw the varied attitudes and uninviting appearance of the sleeping damsels. some were snoring, others gnashing their teeth, others had their mouths wide open; some tossed heavily from the right to the left side, others stretched one arm upwards and the other downwards; some, seized as it were with a frantic pang, suddenly coiled up their legs for a while, and with the same violent motion again pushed them down. this unexpected exhibition made a strong impression on phralaong; his heart was set, if possible, freer from the ties of concupiscence, or rather he was confirmed in his contempt for all worldly pleasures. it appeared to him that his magnificent apartments were filled with the most loathsome and putrid carcasses. the seats of passions, those of rupa and those of arupa, that is to say, the whole world, seemed, to his eyes, like a house that is a prey to the devouring flames. "all that," said he to himself, "is most disgusting and despicable." at the same time his ardent desires for the profession of rahan were increasing with an uncontrollable energy. "on this day, at this very moment," said he with an unshaken firmness, "i will retire into a solitary place." he rose instantly and went to the arched door of his apartment. "who is here watching?" said he to the first person he met. "your servant," replied instantly the vigilant nobleman tsanda. "rise up quickly," replied the prince; "now i am ready to retire from the world and resort to some lonely place. go to the stable and prepare the fastest of my horses." tsanda bowed respectfully to his master, and executed his orders with the utmost celerity. the horse kantika, knowing the intentions of the prince, felt an inexpressible joy at being selected for such a good errand, and he testified his joy by loud neighs; but, by the power of the nats, the sound of his voice was silenced, so that none heard it. while tsanda, in compliance with the orders he had received, was making the necessary preparations, phralaong desired to see his newly born son raoula. he opened gently the door of the room where the princess was sleeping, having one of her hands placed over the head of the infant. phralaong, stopping at the threshold, said to himself:--"if i go farther to contemplate the child, i will have to remove the hand of the mother; she may be awakened by this movement, and then she will prove a great obstacle to my departure. i will see the child after i have become a buddha." he then instantly shut the door and left the palace. his charger was waiting for him. "to your swiftness," said phralaong to kantika, "do i trust for executing my great design. i must become a buddha, and labour for the deliverance of men and nats from the miseries of existence, and lead them safely to the peaceful shores of neibban." in a moment he was on the back of his favourite horse. kantika was a magnificent animal; his body measured eighteen cubits in length, with which his height and circumference were in perfect proportion. the hair was of a beautiful white, resembling a newly cleaned shell; his swiftness was unrivalled, and his neighings could be heard at a very great distance; but on this occasion the nats interfered, no sound of his voice was heard, and the noise of his steps was completely silenced. having reached the gate of the city, phralaong stopped for a while, uncertain as regarded the course he was to follow. to open the gate, which a thousand men could with difficulty cause to turn upon its hinges, was deemed an impossibility. whilst he was deliberating with his faithful attendant tsanda, the huge gate was silently opened by the nats, and a free passage given to him through it. it was in the year when he left kapilawot. phralaong had scarcely crossed the threshold of the gate when the tempter endeavoured to thwart his pious design. manh[ ] nat resolved to prevent him from retiring into solitude and becoming a buddha. standing in the air, he cried aloud, "prince theiddat, do not attempt to lead the life of a recluse; seven days hence you will become a tsekiawaday; your sway shall extend over the four great islands; return forthwith to your palace." "who are you?" replied phralaong. "i am manh nat," cried the voice. "i know," said phralaong, "that i can become a tsekiawaday, but i feel not the least inclination for earthly dignities; my aim is to arrive at the nature of buddha." the tempter, urged onward by his three wicked propensities, concupiscence, ignorance, and anger, did not part for a moment from phralaong; but as the shadow always accompanies the body, he too, from that day, always followed phralaong, striving to throw every obstacle in his way towards the dignity of buddha. trampling down every human and worldly consideration, and despising a power full of vanity and illusion, phralaong left the city of kapilawot, at the full moon of july under the constellation oottarathan. a little while after, he felt a strong desire to turn round his head and cast a last glance at the magnificent city he was leaving behind him; but he soon overcame that inordinate desire and denied himself this gratification. it is said that on the very instant he was combating the rising sense of curiosity the mighty earth turned with great velocity, like a potter's wheel, so that the very object he denied himself the satisfaction of contemplating came of itself under his eyes. phralaong hesitated a while as to the direction he was to follow, but he resolved instantly to push on straight before him. his progress through the country resembled a splendid triumphal ovation. sixty thousand nats marched in front of him, an equal number followed him, and as many surrounded him on his right and on his left. all of them carried lighted torches, pouring a flood of light in every direction; others again spread perfumes and flowers brought from their own seats. all joined in chorus, singing the praises of phralaong. the sound of their united voices resembled loud peals of continued thunder, and the resounding of the mighty waves at the foot of the mount oogando. flowers, shedding the most fragrant odour, were seen gracefully undulating in the air, like an immense canopy, extending to the farthest limits of the horizon. during that night, phralaong, attended with that brilliant retinue, travelled a distance of thirty youdzanas, and arrived on the banks of the river anauma. turning his face towards tsanda, he asked what was the river's name. "anauma is its name," replied his faithful attendant. "i will not," said phralaong to himself, "show myself unworthy of the high dignity i aspire to." spurring his horse, the fierce animal leaped at once to the opposite bank. phralaong alighted on the ground, which was covered with a fine sand resembling pearls, when the rays of the sun fell upon it in the morning. on that spot he divested himself of his dress, and calling tsanda to him, he directed him to take charge of his ornaments, and carry them back with the horse kantika to his palace. for himself, he had made up his mind to become a rahan. "your servant too," replied tsanda, "will become also a recluse in your company." "no," said the prince, "the profession of rahan does not at present befit you." he reiterated this prohibition three times. when he was handing over to tsanda his costly ornaments, he said to himself, "these long hairs that cover my head, and my beard too, are superfluities unbecoming the profession of rahan." whereupon with one hand unsheathing his sword, and with the other seizing his comely hairs, he cut them with a single stroke. what remained of his hairs on the head measured about one inch and a half in length. in like manner he disposed of his beard. from that time he never needed shaving; the hairs of his beard and those of the head never grew longer during the remainder of his life.[ ] holding his hairs and turban together, he cried aloud, "if i am destined to become a buddha, let these hairs and turban remain suspended in the air; if not, let them drop down on the ground." throwing up both to the height of one youdzana, they remained suspended in the air, until a nat came with a rich basket, put them therein, and carried them to the seat of tawadeintha. he there erected the dzedi dzoulamani, wherein they were religiously deposited. casting his regards on his own person, phralaong saw that his rich and shining robe did not answer his purpose, nor appear befitting the poor and humble profession he was about to embrace. while his attention was taken up with this consideration, a great brahma, named gatigara, who in the days of the buddha kathaba had been an intimate friend of our phralaong, and who, during the period that elapsed between the manifestation of that buddha to the present time, had not grown old, discovered at once the perplexity of his friend's mind. "prince theiddat," said he, "is preparing to become a rahan, but he is not supplied with the dress and other implements essentially required for his future calling. i will provide him now with the thinbaing, the kowot, the dugout, the patta, the leathern girdle, the hatchet, the needle, and filter."[ ] he took with him all these articles, and in an instant arrived in the presence of phralaong, to whom he presented them. though unacquainted with the details of that dress, and untrained in the use of those new implements, the prince, like a man who had been a recluse during several existences, put on with a graceful gravity his new dress. he adjusted the thinbaing round his waist, covered his body with the kowot, threw the dugout over his shoulders, and suspended to his neck the bag containing the earthen patta. assuming the grave, meek, and dignified countenance of a rahan, he called tsanda and bade him go back to his father and relate to him all that he had seen. tsanda, complying with his master's request, prostrated himself three times before him; then, rising up, he wheeled to the right and departed. the spirited horse, hearing the last words of phralaong, could no more control his grief.[ ] "alas!" said he, "i will see no more my master in this world." his sorrow grew so great that his heart split into two parts, and he died on the spot. after his death, he became a nat in the seat of tawadeintha. the affliction of tsanda at parting with his good master was increased by the death of kantika. the tears that streamed down his cheeks resembled drops of liquid silver. phralaong, having thus begun the life of a recluse, spent seven days alone in a forest of mango trees, enjoying in that retirement the peace and happiness of soul which solitude alone can confer. the place, in the neighbourhood of which he began his religious life, is called anupyia, in the country belonging to the malla princes. he then started for the country of radzagio, travelling on foot a distance of thirty youdzanas. arrived near the gate of the royal city, phralaong stopped for a while, saying within himself, "peimpathara, the king of this country, will no doubt hear of my arrival in this place. knowing that the son of king thoodaudana is actually in his own royal city, he will insist upon my accepting all sorts of presents. but now, in my capacity of rahan, i must decline accepting them, and by the rules of my profession i am bound to go and beg along the streets, from house to house, the food necessary for my support." he instantly resumed his journey, entered the city through the eastern gate, the patta hanging on his side, and followed the first row of houses, receiving the alms which pious hands offered him. at the moment of his arrival the whole city was shaken by a mighty commotion, like that which is felt in the seat of thoora when the nat athoorein makes his apparition in it. the inhabitants, terrified at such an ominous sign, ran in all haste to the palace. admitted into the presence of the monarch, they told him that they knew not what sort of being had just arrived in the city, walking through the streets and begging alms. they could not ascertain whether he was a nat, a man, or a galong. the king, looking from his apartments over the city, saw phralaong, whose meek deportment removed all anxiety from his mind. he, however, directed a few of his noblemen to go and watch attentively all the movements of the stranger. "if he be," said he, "a bilou, he will soon leave the city and vanish away; if a nat, he will raise himself in the air; if a naga, he will plunge to the bottom of the earth." phralaong, having obtained the quantity of rice, vegetables, &c., he thought sufficient for his meal, left the city through the same gate by which he had entered it, sat down at the foot of a small hill, his face turned towards the east, and tried to make his meal with the things he had received. he could not swallow the first mouthful, which he threw out of his mouth in utter disgust. accustomed to live sumptuously and feed on the most delicate things, his eyes could not bear even the sight of that loathsome mixture of the coarsest articles of food collected at the bottom of his patta. he soon, however, recovered from that shock; and gathered fresh strength to subdue the opposition of nature, overcome its repugnance, and conquer its resistance. reproaching himself for such an unbecoming weakness:--"was i not aware," said he, with a feeling of indignation against himself, "that when i took up the dress of a mendicant such would be my food? the moment is come to trample upon nature's appetites." whereupon he took up his patta, ate cheerfully his meal, and never afterwards did he ever feel any repugnance at what things soever he had to eat. the king's messengers, having closely watched and attentively observed all that had happened, returned to their master, to whom they related all the particulars that they had witnessed. "let my carriage be ready," said the king, "and you, follow me to the place where this stranger is resting." he soon perceived phralaong at a distance, sitting quietly after his refection. peimpathara alighted from his conveyance, respectfully drew near to phralaong, and, having occupied a seat in a becoming place, was overwhelmed with contentment and inexpressible joy to such an extent, indeed, that he could scarcely find words to give utterance to his feelings. having at last recovered from the first impression, he addressed phralaong in the following manner:--"venerable rahan, you seem to be young still, and in the prime of your life; in your person you are gifted with the most attractive and noble qualities, indicating surely your illustrious and royal extraction. i have under my control and in my possession a countless crowd of officers, elephants, horses and chariots, affording every desirable convenience for pleasure and amusement of every description. please to accept of a numerous retinue of attendants, with whom you may enjoy yourself whilst remaining within my dominions. may i be allowed to ask what country you belong to, who you are, and from what illustrious lineage and descent you are come?" phralaong said to himself:--"it is evident that the king is unacquainted with both my name and origin; i will, however, satisfy him on the subject of his inquiry." pointing out with his hand in the direction of the place he had come from, he said:--"i arrive from the country which has been governed by a long succession of the descendants of prince kothala. i have, indeed, been born from royal progenitors, but i have abandoned all the prerogatives attached to my position, and embraced the profession of rahan. from my heart i have rooted up concupiscence, covetousness, and all affections to the things of this world." to this the king replied:--"i have heard that prince theiddat, son of king thoodaudana, had seen four great signs, portending his future destiny for the profession of rahan, which would be but a step to lead him to the exalted dignity of a buddha. the first part of the prediction has been already fulfilled. when the second shall have received its accomplishment, i beg you will show your benevolence to me and my people. i hope my kingdom will be the first country you will direct your steps to, after having acquired the supreme science." to this phralaong graciously assented. phralaong, having left the king, resumed his journey, and fell in with a rathee,[ ] or hermit, named alara, and inquired about the several dzans. alara satisfied him on four kinds of dzans, but as regards the fifth, he was obliged to refer him to another rathee, named oudaka, who gave him the necessary explanations. having nothing more to learn from these masters, phralaong said to himself, "the knowledge i have thus acquired is not sufficient to enable me to obtain the dignity of buddha." whereupon he resolved to devote himself to the kamatan[ ] or meditation on the instability and nothingness of all that exists. to effectuate thoroughly his purpose, he repaired to the solitude of oorouwela, where he devoted all his time to the deepest meditation. on a certain day it happened that five rahans, on their way to a certain place to get their food, arrived at the spot where phralaong lived and had already entered on the course of his penitential deeds. they soon became impressed with the idea that our hermit was to become a buddha. they resolved to stay with him and render him all the needful services, such as sweeping the place, cooking rice, &c. the time for the six years of meditation was nearly over, when phralaong undertook a great fast,[ ] which was carried to such a degree of abstemiousness that he scarcely allowed to himself the use of a grain of rice or sesame a day, and finally denied himself even that feeble pittance. but the nats, who observed his excessive mortification, inserted nat food through the pores of his skin. whilst phralaong was thus undergoing such a severe fasting, his face, which was of a beautiful gold colour, became black; the thirty-two marks indicative of his future dignity disappeared. on a certain day, when he was walking in a much enfeebled state, on a sudden he felt an extreme weakness, similar to that caused by a dire starvation. unable to stand up any longer, he fainted and fell on the ground. among the nats that were present, some said, "the rahan gaudama is dead indeed;" some others replied, "he is not dead, but has fainted from want of food." those who believed he was dead hastened to his father's palace to convey to him the sad message of his son's death. thoodaudana inquired if his son died previous to his becoming a buddha. having been answered in the affirmative, he refused to give credit to the words of the nats. the reason of his doubting the accuracy of the report was, that he had witnessed the great wonders prognosticating his son's future dignity that had taken place, first when phralaong, then an infant, was placed in the presence of a famous rathee, and secondly, when he slept under the shade of the tree tsampoo-thabia. the fainting being over, and phralaong having recovered his senses, the same nats went in all haste to thoodaudana, to inform him of his son's happy recovery. "i knew well," said the king, "that my son could not die ere he had become a buddha." the fame of phralaong's having spent six years in solitude, addicted to meditation and mortification, spread abroad like the sound of a great bell,[ ] hung in the canopy of the skies. phralaong soon remarked that fasting and mortification were not works of sufficient value for obtaining the dignity of buddha; he took up his patta and went to the neighbouring village to get his food. having eaten it, he grew stronger; his beautiful face shone again like gold, and the thirty-two signs reappeared.[ ] the five rahans that had lived with him said to each other--"it is in vain that the rahan gaudama has, during six years of mortification and sufferings, sought the dignity of buddha; he is now compelled to go out in search of food; assuredly, if he be obliged to live on such food, when shall he ever become a buddha? he goes out in quest of food; verily, he aims at enriching himself. as the man that wants drops of dew or water to refresh and wash his forehead, has to look for them, so we have to go somewhere else to learn the way to, and the merit of, dzan, which we have not been able to obtain from him." whereupon they left phralaong, took up their pattas and tsiwarans, went to a distance of eighteen youdzanas, and withdrew into the forest of migadawon, near baranathee. footnotes [ ] phralaong having overcome with uncommon fortitude the numberless obstacles which he had encountered on the part of men, will have now to meet another foe, perhaps more formidable, a wicked nat, or demon. his name, according to its orthography, is mar or mara, but the burmese call him manh, which means pride. manh is, therefore, the evil spirit of pride, or rather personified pride, and the enemy of mankind, ever ready to oppose the benevolent designs and generous efforts of buddha in carrying on his great undertaking, conceived to benefit humanity, by teaching men the way that leads to deliverance from all miseries. the first plan concocted by manh for stopping, at the very outset, the progress of phralaong, was to flatter his ambition by promising him _all the kingdoms of this world and their glory_. from that day the tempter never lost sight of the benevolent buddha, but followed him everywhere, endeavouring to prevent the immense success that was to attend his future mission. the evil propensities which constitute, as it were, the very essence of manh's nature, are concupiscence, envy, and an irresistible proneness to do harm. the devil indeed could hardly be made up of worse materials. it is really interesting through the course of this legend to read of the uninterrupted efforts made by the personification of evil to thwart buddha in all his benevolent designs. the antagonism begins now, but it will be maintained with an obstinate and prolonged activity during the whole life of buddha. [ ] this circumstance explains one peculiarity observable in all the statues representing buddha. the head is invariably covered with sharp points, resembling those thorns with which the thick envelope of the durian fruit is armed. often i had inquired as to the motive that induced native sculptors to leave on the head of all statues that sort of inverted nails, without ever being able to obtain any satisfactory answer. it was only after having read this passage of the life of buddha that i was enabled to account for this apparently singular custom, which is designed to remind all buddhists of the ever-continued wonder whereby the hairs which remained on buddha's head never grew longer from the day he cut them with his sword. [ ] every talapoin or recluse must be provided with one needle, wherewith he is to sew his dress, one hatchet to cut the wood he may be in need of, either for erecting a shelter for himself or for other purposes, and one filter to strain the water he intends to drink, that it might be cleared from all impurities, but chiefly of insects or any living body that might be in it, which would expose the drinker thereof to the enormous sin of causing the death of some animal. [ ] the various accounts that are given of the horse kantika, and the grief he feels at parting with his master, grief which reaches so far as to cause his death, may appear somewhat extraordinary, puerile, and ridiculous to every one except to buddhists. one great principle of that religious system is that man does not differ from animals in nature, but only in relative perfection. in animals there are souls as well as in men, but these souls, on account of the paucity of their merits and the multiplicity of their demerits, are yet in a very imperfect state. when the law of demerits grows weak, and that of merits gathers strength, the soul, though continuing to inhabit the body of animals, has the knowledge of good and evil, and can attain to a certain degree of perfection. buddhistic writings supply many instances of this belief. whilst buddha was in the desert, an elephant ministered to all his wants. as a reward for such a series of services, buddha preached to him the law, and led him at once to the deliverance, that is to say, to the state of neibban. when one animal has progressed so far in the way of merits as to be able to discern between good and bad, it is said that he is ripe, or fit to become man. the horse kantika seems to have reached that state of full ripeness, since, after his death, he passed to the state of nat. this peculiar tenet of buddhistic faith accounts for the first of the five great commands, which extends the formal injunction of "thou shalt not kill" to animals. when a candidate is admitted, according to the prescriptions contained in the sacred kambawa, into the order of rahans, he is expressly and solemnly commanded to refrain from committing four sins, which would deprive him _de facto_ of the dignity he has been elevated to. the taking away willingly of the life of anything animated, is one of these four trespassings. [ ] the fact of buddha placing himself under the tuition of two masters or teachers, leading an ascetic life, to learn from them notions of the most abstruse nature, establishes, beyond all doubt, the high antiquity of the existence in india of a large number of individuals, who, living in some retired spot, far from the tumult of society, endeavoured, by constant application, to dive into the deepest recesses of morals and metaphysics. the fame of the learning of many among them attracted to their solitude crowds of disciples, anxious to study under such eminent masters. hence we see some of these rathees at the head of four or five hundred disciples. there is no doubt that the most distinguished rathees became the founders of many of those philosophico-religious schools for which india was renowned from the remotest antiquity. like many others who thirsted for knowledge, phralaong resorted to the schools of the rathees, as to the then most celebrated seats of learning. from this fact we may be allowed to draw another inference, which may be considered as a consequence of what has been stated in a foregoing note, regarding the superior antiquity of brahminism over buddhism. phralaong was brought up in the bosom of a society regulated and governed by brahminical institutions. he must have been imbued from the earliest days of his elementary education with the notions generally taught, viz.: the brahminical ones. when he grew up and began to think for himself, he was displeased with certain doctrines which did not tally with his own ideas. following the example of many that had preceded him in the way of innovation, he boldly shaped his course in a new direction, and soon arrived at a final issue on many points, both with his teachers and some of the doctrines generally received in the society in which he had been brought up. we may, therefore, safely conclude that the doctrines supposed to have been preached by the latest buddha are but an off-shoot of brahminism. this may serve to account for the great resemblance subsisting between many doctrines of both creeds. the cardinal points on which these two systems essentially differ are the beginning and the end of living beings. between these two extremes there is a multitude of points on which both systems so perfectly agree that they appear blended together. the rathees seem, according to the institutes of menoo, to have been first in observing two practices, much enforced by the wini in subsequent times. they were supported by the alms bestowed on them by their disciples and the admirers of their singular mode of life. they were courted and esteemed by the world, in proportion to the contempt they appeared to hold it in. denying to themselves the pleasures which were opposed to their austere life, they observed, as long as they remained rathees, the rules of the strictest celibacy. phralaong, preparing himself for his future high calling, began to study the science of _dzan_ under distinguished masters. what is meant by dzan? this pali word means thought, reflection, meditation. it is often designed by the burmese to mean a peculiar state of the soul that has already made great progress in the way of perfection. phralaong intended, by placing himself under the direction of those eminent teachers, to learn the great art of training his mind for the obtaining, by constant and well-directed meditations, of high mental attainments. in the book of buddhistic metaphysics, i have found the science of dzan divided into five parts, or rather five steps, which the mind has to ascend successively ere it can enjoy a state of perfect quiescence, the highest point a perfected being can arrive at before reaching the state of neibban. in the first step the soul searches after what is good and perfect, and having discovered it, turns its attention and the energy of its faculties towards it. in the second, the soul begins to contemplate steadily what it has first discovered, and rivets upon it its attention. in the third stage, the soul fondly relishes, and is, as it were, entirely taken with it. in the fourth, the soul calmly enjoys and quietly feasts on the pure truths it has loved in the former state. in the fifth, the soul, perfectly satiated with the knowledge of truth, remains in a state of complete quietude, perfect fixity, unmoved stability, which nothing can any longer alter or disturb. the burmese and all buddhists, always fond of what is wonderful, attribute supernatural perfections to those who have so far advanced in mental attainments. their bodies become, as it were, half-spiritualised, so that they can, according to their wishes, carry themselves through the air from one place to another, without the least hindrance or difficulty. [ ] kamatan means the fixing of the attention on one object, so as to investigate thoroughly all its constituent parts, its principle and origin, its existence and its final destruction. it is that part of metaphysics which treats of the beginning, nature, and end of beings. to become proficient in that science, a man must be gifted with a most extensive knowledge and an analysing mind of no common cast. the process of kamatan is as follows. let it be supposed that man intends to contemplate one of the four elements, fire, for instance; he abstracts himself from every object which is not fire, and devotes all his attention to the contemplation of that object alone; he examines the nature of fire, and finding it a compound of several distinct parts, he investigates the cause or causes that keep those parts together, and soon discovers that they are but accidental ones, the action whereof may be impeded or destroyed by the occurrence of any sudden accident. he concludes that fire has but a fictitious ephemeral existence. the same method is followed in examining the other elements, and gradually all other things he may come in contact with, and his final conclusion is, that all things placed without him are destitute of real existence, being mere illusions, divested of all reality. he infers, again, that all things are subjected to the law of incessant change, without fixity or stability. the wise man, therefore, can feel no attachment to objects which, in his own opinion, are but illusions and deception: his mind can nowhere find rest in the midst of illusions always succeeding to each other. having surveyed all that is distinct of self, he applies himself to the work of investigating the origin and nature of his body. after a lengthened examination, he arrives, as a matter of course, at the same conclusion. his body is a mere illusion without reality, subjected to changes and destruction. he feels that it is as yet distinct from self. he despises his body, as he does everything else, and has no concern for it. he longs for the state of neibban, as the only one worthy of the wise man's earnest desire. by such a preliminary step, the student, having estranged himself from this world of illusions, advances towards the study of the excellent works which will pave the way to neibban. the burmese reckon forty kamatans. they are often repeated over by devotees, whose weak intellect is utterly incapable of understanding the meaning they are designed to convey to the mind. notwithstanding his singular aptitude in acquiring knowledge, phralaong devoted six whole years, in the solitude of oorouwela, busily engaged in mastering the profound science he aimed at acquiring. it was during that time that he received the visits of five rahans, whose chief was named koondanha. they were very probably, like so many of their profession, travelling about in search of knowledge. they placed themselves under the direction of phralaong, and in exchange for the lessons they received from him, they served him as humble and grateful disciples are wont to attend on a highly esteemed teacher. in this, as well as many other circumstances, we see that, previous to gaudama's preachings, there already existed in india an order of devotees or enthusiasts, who lived secluded from the world, devoted to the study of religious doctrines and the practice of virtues of the highest order. the order of buddhistic monks or talapoins, which was subsequently established by the author of buddhism, is but a modification of what actually subsisted in full vigour in his own country and in his own time. [ ] in a buddhistic point of view the only reason that may be assigned for the extraordinary fast of phralaong is the satisfaction of showing to the world the display of wonderful action. fasting and other works of mortification have always been much practised by the indian philosophers of past ages, who thereby attracted the notice, respect, admiration, and veneration of the world. such rigorous exercises, too, were deemed of great help for enabling the soul to have a more perfect control over the senses, and subjecting them to the empire of reason. they are also conducive towards the calm and undisturbed state in which the soul is better fitted for the arduous task of constant meditation. the fast of gaudama, preparatory to his obtaining the buddhaship, recalls to mind that which our lord underwent ere he began his divine mission. if the writer, in the course of this work, has made once or twice a remark of similar import, he has done so, not with the intention of drawing a parallel as between facts, but to communicate to the reader the feelings of surprise and astonishment he experienced when he thought he met with circumstances respecting the founder of buddhism which apparently bore great similarity to some connected with the mission of our saviour. [ ] bells are common in burmah, and the people of that country are well acquainted with the art of casting them. most of the bells to be seen in the pagodas are of small dimensions, and differing in shape somewhat from those used in europe. the inferior part is less widened, and there is a large hole in the centre of the upper part. no tongue is hung in the interior, but the sound is produced by striking with a horn of deer or elk the outward surface of the lower part. no belfry is erected for the bells; they are fixed on a piece of timber, laid horizontally, and supported at its two extremities by two posts, at such a height that the inferior part of the bell is raised about five feet above the ground. the largest specimens of burmese art in casting bells of great weight are the two bells to be seen, the one in the large pagoda of rangoon, called shway dagon, and the other at mingon, about twelve or fifteen miles north of amerapoura, on the western bank of the irrawaddy. the first, in the town of rangoon, was cast in , when king tharawaddy visited the place, with the intention of founding a new city, more distant from the river, and nearer to the mount upon which rises the splendid shway dagon. in its shape and form it exactly resembles the kind of bells above described. here are some particulars respecting that large piece of metal, collected from the inscription to be seen upon it. it was cast on the fifth day of the full moon of tabodwai (february), of the burmese era. the weight of metal is , lbs.; its height - / cubits; its diameter cubits; its thickness fingers or inches. but during the process of melting, the well-disposed came forward and threw in copper, silver, and gold in great quantities. it is supposed, says the writer of the inscription, that in this way the weight was increased one-fourth. the bell of mingon was cast in the beginning of this century. in shape and form it resembles our bells in europe. it is probable that some foreigner residing at ava suggested the idea of giving such an unusual form to that monumental bell. its height is feet, besides feet for hanging apparatus. it has feet in diameter, and from to inches in thickness. its weight is supposed to exceed two hundred thousand english pounds. in the interior large yellowish and greyish streaks indicate that considerable quantities of gold and silver had been thrown in during the process of melting. no idea can at present be had of the power of the sound of that bell, as its enormous weight has caused the pillars that support it partially to give way. to prevent a fatal disaster, the orifice of the bell has been made to rest on large short posts, sunk in the ground and rising about three feet above it. in no respect can these bells bear any comparison with those of europe. they are mightily rough and rude attempts at doing works on a scale far surpassing the abilities of native workmen, who otherwise succeed tolerably well in casting the comparatively small bells commonly met with in the courtyards of pagodas. [ ] one of the genuine characters of buddhism is correctly exhibited in this observation of phralaong's respecting fasts, mortifications, and other self-inflicted penances. they are not looked upon as the immediate way leading to perfection, nor as _a portion_ or a part of perfection itself. such deeds are but means resorted to for weakening passions and increasing the power of the spiritual principle over the natural one: they are preparatory to the great work of meditation or the study of truth, which is the only high-road to perfection. to the sage that has already begun the laborious task of investigating truth, such practices are of no use, and are nowhere insisted on as necessary, or even useful. in the book of discipline, no mention is made of them. the life of the initiated is one of self-denial; all superfluities and luxuries are strictly interdicted; all that is calculated to minister to passions and pleasure is carefully excluded. but the great austerities and macerations practised by the religious of the brahminical sect are at once rejected by the buddhist sages as unprofitable and unnecessary to them. the inmates of the buddhist monasteries in our days are never seen indulging in those cruel, disgusting, and unnatural practices performed from time immemorial by some of their brethren of the hindu persuasion. this constitutes one of the principal differences or discrepancies between the two systems. with the founder of buddhism fasts and penitential deeds are of great concern to him who is as yet in the world, living under the tyrannical yoke of passions and the influence of the senses. by him they are viewed as powerful auxiliaries in the spiritual warfare for obtaining the mastery over passions. this point once gained, the sage can at once dispense with their aid as being no longer required. the follower of the hindu creed looks upon those practices as _per se_ eminently meritorious and capable of leading him to perfection; hence the mania for carrying those observances to a degree revolting to reason, and even to the plain good sense of the people. chapter v. _thoodzata's offering to phralaong -- his five dreams -- he shapes his course towards the gniaong tree -- miraculous appearance of a throne -- victory of phralaong over manh nat -- his meditations during forty-nine days near the bodi tree -- he at last obtains the perfect science -- he overcomes the temptation directed against him by the daughters of manh -- buddha preaches the law to a pounha and to two merchants._ at that time, in the solitude of oorouwela, there lived in a village a rich man, named thena. he had a daughter named thoodzata. having attained the years of puberty, she repaired to a place where there was a gniaong tree, and made the following prayer to the nat guardian of the place[ ]:--"if i marry a husband that will prove a suitable match, and the first fruit of our union be a male child, i will spend annually in alms deeds , pieces of silver, and make an offering at this spot." her prayer was heard, and its twofold object granted. when phralaong had ended the six years of his fasting and mortification, on the day of the full moon of the month katson, thoodzata was preparing to make her grateful offering to the nat of the place. she had been keeping one thousand cows in a place abounding with sweet vines; the milk of those thousand was given to five hundred cows; these again fed with their own milk two hundred and fifty others, and so on, in a diminishing proportion, until it happened that sixteen cows fed eight others with their milk. so these eight cows gave a milk, rich, sweet, and flavoured beyond all description. on the day of the full moon of katson,[ ] thoodzata rose at an early hour to make ready her offering, and disposed everything that the cows should be simultaneously milked. when they were to be milked, the young calves of their own accord kept at a distance; and as soon as the vessels were brought near, the milk began to flow in streams from the udders into the vessels. she took the milk and poured it into a large caldron, set on the fire which she had herself kindled. the milk began to boil; bubbles formed on the surface of the liquid, turned on the right and sunk in, not a single drop being spilt out; no smoke arose from the fireplace. four kings of nats watched about while the caldron was boiling; the great brahma kept open an umbrella over it; a thagia brought fuel and fed the fire. other nats, by their supernatural power, infused honey into the milk, and communicated thereto a flavour, such as the like is not to be found in the abode of men. on this occasion alone, and on the day phralaong entered the state of neibban, the nats infused honey into his food. wondering at the so many extraordinary signs which she saw, thoodzata called her female slave, named sounama, related to her all that she had observed, and directed her to go to the gniaong tree, and clear the place where she intended to make her offering. the servant, complying with her mistress' direction, soon arrived at the foot of the tree. on that very night phralaong had had five dreams.[ ] st, it appeared to him that the earth was his sleeping place, with the himawonta for his pillow. his right hand rested on the western ocean, his left on the eastern ocean, and his feet on the southern ocean. nd, a kind of grass, named tyria, appeared to grow out of his navel and reach to the skies. rd, ants of a white appearance ascended from his feet to the knee and covered his legs. th, birds of varied colour and size appeared to come from all directions and fall at his feet, when, on a sudden, they all appeared white. th, it seemed to him that he was walking on a mountain of filth, and that he passed over it without being in the least contaminated. phralaong, awaking from his sleep, said to himself, after having reflected for a while on those five dreams,--"today i shall certainly become a buddha." thereupon he rose instantly, washed his hands and face, put on his dress, and quietly waited the break of day, to go out in quest of his food. the moment being arrived to go out, he took up his patta, and walked in the direction of the gniaong tree. the whole tree was made shining by the rays which issued from his person; he rested there for a while. at that very moment arrived sounama, to clear, according to her mistress' orders, the place for her offering. as she approached, she saw phralaong at the foot of the tree. the rays of light which beamed out of his person were reflected on the tree, which exhibited a most splendid and dazzling appearance. on observing this wonder, sounama said to herself: "of course the nat has come down from the tree to receive the offering with his own hands." overcome with an unutterable joy, she immediately ran to her mistress and related her adventure. thoodzata was delighted at this occurrence, and wishing to give a substantial proof of her gratitude for such good news, she said to sounama: "from this moment you are no more my servant; i adopt you for my elder daughter." she gave her instantly all the ornaments suitable to her new position. it is customary for all the phralaongs to be provided, on the day they are to become buddha, with a gold cup of an immense value. thoodzata ordered a golden vessel to be brought, and poured therein the nogana or boiled milk. as the water glides from the leaf of the water-lily without leaving thereon any trace, so the nogana slided from the pot into the golden cup and filled it up. she covered this cup with another of the same precious metal, and wrapped up the whole with a white cloth. she forthwith put on her finest dress, and, becomingly attired, she carried the golden cup over her head; and with a decent gravity walked towards the gniaong tree. overwhelmed with joy at seeing phralaong, she reverentially advanced towards him, whom she mistook for a nat. when near him, she placed gently the golden vessel on the ground, and offered him in a gold basin scented water to wash his hands. at that moment, the earthen patta offered to phralaong by the brahma gatikara disappeared. perceiving that his patta had disappeared, he stretched forth his right hand, and washed it in the scented water; at the same time thoodzata presented to him the golden cup containing the nogana. having observed that she had caught the eyes of phralaong, she said to him: "my lord nat, i beg to offer you this food, together with the vessel that contains it." having respectfully bowed down to him, she continued: "may your joy and happiness be as great as mine; may you always delight in the happiest rest, ever surrounded by a great and brilliant retinue." making then the offering of the gold cup, worth , pieces of silver, with the same disinterestedness as if she had given over only the dry leaf of a tree, she withdrew and returned to her home with a heart overflowing with joy. phralaong rising up took with him the golden cup, and having turned to the left of the gniaong tree, went to the bank of the river neritzara, to a place where more than , buddhas had bathed, ere they obtained the supreme intelligence. on the banks of that river is a bathing-place. having left on that spot his golden cup, he undressed himself, and descended into the river. when he had bathed, he came out and put on his yellow robe, which in shape and form resembled that of his predecessors. he sat down, his face turned towards the east; his face resembled in appearance a well-ripe palm-fruit. he divided his exquisite fruit into forty-nine mouthfuls, which he ate entire, without mixing any water with it. during forty-nine days he spent round the bodi tree, buddha never bathed, nor took any food, nor experienced the least want. his appearance and countenance remained unchanged; he spent the whole time absorbed, as it were, in an uninterrupted meditation. holding up in his hands the empty golden vessel, phralaong made the following prayer: "if on this day i am to become a buddha, let this cup float on the water and ascend the stream." whereupon he flung it into the stream, when, by the power and influence of phralaong's former good works, the vessel, gently gliding towards the middle of the river, and then beating up the stream, ascended it with the swiftness of a horse to the distance of eighty cubits, when it stopped, sunk into a whirlpool, went down to the country of naga, and made a noise, on coming in contact with and striking against the three vessels of the three last buddhas, viz.: kaukathan, gaunagong, and kathaba. on hearing this unusual noise, the chief of nagas awoke from his sleep, and said: "how is this? yesterday, a buddha appeared in the world; today, again, there is another." and in more than one hundred stanzas he sung praises to buddha. * * * * * on the banks of the river neritzara there is a grove of sala trees, whither phralaong repaired to spend the day under their cooling shade. in the evening he rose up and walked with the dignified and noble bearing of a lion, in a road eight oothabas wide, made by the nats, and strewed with flowers, towards the gniaong tree. the nats, nagas, and galongs joined in singing praises to him, playing instruments, and making offerings of the finest flowers and most exquisite perfumes, brought from their own seats. the same rejoicings took place in ten thousand other worlds. whilst on his way towards the tree, he met with a young man, just returning with a grass-load he had cut in the fields. foreseeing that phralaong might require some portion of it for his use, he presented him an offering of eight handfuls of grass, which were willingly accepted. arrived close to the gniaong tree,[ ] phralaong stopped at the south of the tree, his face turned towards the north, when, on a sudden, the southern point of the globe seemed to lower down to the hell awidzi, the lowest of all, whilst the northern one appeared to reach the sky. then he said, "verily this is not the place where i shall become a buddha." thence phralaong went on his right side towards the east of the tree, and standing up, his face turned towards the west, he said, "this is indeed the place where all the preceding buddhas have obtained the supreme intelligence. here, too, is the very spot whereupon i shall become a buddha, and set up my throne." he took, by one of their extremities, the eight handfuls of grass and scattered them on the ground, when, on a sudden, there appeared emerging, as it were, from the bottom of the earth, a throne fourteen cubits high, adorned with the choicest sculptures and paintings, superior in perfection to all that art could produce. phralaong, then facing the east, uttered the following imprecation: "if i am not destined to become a buddha, may my bones, veins, and skin remain on this throne, and my blood and flesh be dried up." he then ascended the throne, with his back turned against the tree, and his face towards the east. he sat down in a cross-legged position, firmly resolved never to vacate the throne, ere he had become a buddha. such firmness of purpose, which the combined elements could not shake for a moment, no one ought to think of ever becoming possessed of. whilst phralaong was sitting on the throne in that cross-legged position, manh nat said to himself, "i will not suffer prince theiddat to overstep the boundaries of my empire." he summoned all his warriors and shouted to them. on hearing their chief's voice, the warriors gathered thick round his person. his countless followers in front, on his right and on his left, reached to the distance of eighteen youdzanas, and above him to that of nine only. behind him, they extended to the very limits of the world. the cries of that immense multitude were re-echoed at a distance of ten thousand youdzanas, and resembled the roaring of the mighty sea. manh nat rode the elephant girimegala, measuring in length five youdzanas. supplied with one thousand right arms, he wielded all sorts of the most deadly weapons. his countless warriors, to avoid confusion, were all disposed in ranks, bearing their respective armour. they appeared like immense clouds, slowly rolling on and converging towards phralaong. at that time, nats surrounded phralaong, singing praises to him; the chief thagia was playing on his conch, whereof a single blowing resounds for four entire months; the chief naga was uttering stanzas in his honour; a chief brahma held over him the white umbrella. on the approach of manh nat's army, they were all seized with an uncontrollable fear, and fled to their respective places. the naga dived into the bottom of the earth, to a depth of five hundred youdzanas, and covering his face with his two wings, fell into a deep sleep. the thagia, swinging his conch upon his shoulders, ran to the extremity of the world. the brahma, holding still the umbrella by the extremity of the handle, went up to his own country. phralaong was, therefore, left alone. manh nat, turning to his followers, cried to them, "there is, indeed, no one equal to the prince theiddat; let us not attack him in front, but let us assail him from the north side." at that moment, phralaong, lifting his eyes, looked on his right, left, and front, for the crowd of nats, brahmas, and thagias that were paying him their respects. but they had all disappeared. he saw the army of manh nat coming thick upon him from the north, like a mighty storm. "what!" said he, "is it against me alone that such a countless crowd of warriors has been assembled? i have no one to help me, no father, no brothers, no sisters, no friends, and no relatives. but i have with me the ten great virtues which i have practised; the merits i have acquired in the practice of these virtues will be my safeguard and protection; these are my offensive and defensive weapons, and with them i will crush down the great army of manh." whereupon he quietly remained meditating upon the merits of the ten great virtues. whilst phralaong was thus absorbed in meditation, manh nat began his attack upon him. he caused a wind to blow with such an extraordinary violence that it brought down the tops of mountains, though they were one or two youdzanas thick. the trees of the forests were shattered to atoms. but the virtue of phralaong's merits preserved him from the destructive storm. his tsiwaran itself was not agitated. perceiving that his first effort was useless, manh caused a heavy rain to fall with such violence that it tore the earth, and opened it to its very bottom. but not even a single drop touched phralaong's person. to this succeeded a shower of rocks, accompanied with smoke and fire; but they were changed into immense masses of flowers, which dropped at buddha's feet. there came afterwards another shower of swords, knives, and all kinds of cutting weapons, emitting smoke and fire. they all fell powerless at the feet of phralaong. a storm of burning ashes and sand soon darkened the atmosphere, but they fell in front of him like fragrant dust. clouds of mud succeeded, which fell like perfumes all round and over phralaong. manh caused a thick darkness to fill the atmosphere, but to phralaong it emitted rays of the purest light. the enraged manh cried to his followers, "why do you stand looking on? rush at once upon him and compel him to flee before me." sitting on his huge elephant, and brandishing his formidable weapons, manh approached close to phralaong and said to him, "theiddat, this throne is not made for you; vacate it forthwith; it is my property." phralaong calmly answered, "you have not as yet practised the ten great virtues, nor gone through the five acts of self-denial; you have never devoted your life to help others to acquire merits; in a word, you have not yet done all the needful to enable you to attain the supreme dignity of phra. this throne, therefore, cannot be yours." unable to control any longer his passion, manh threw his formidable weapons at phralaong; but they were converted into garlands of beautiful flowers, that adapted themselves gracefully round his body. his sword and other weapons, that could cut at once through the hardest rocks, were employed with no better success. the soldiers of manh, hoping that their united efforts would have a better result, and that they could thrust phralaong from his throne, made a sudden and simultaneous rush at him, rolling against him, with an irresistible force, huge rocks, as large as mountains; but by the virtue of their opponent's merits, they were converted into fine nosegays, that gently dropped at his feet. at that time the nats, from their seats, looked down on the scene of the combat, suspended between hope and fear. phralaong at that moment said to manh: "how do you dare to pretend to the possession of this throne? could you ever prove, by indisputable evidence, that you have ever made offerings enough to be deserving of this throne?" manh, turning to his followers, answered: "here are my witnesses; they will all bear evidence in my favour." at the same moment they all shouted aloud, to testify their approval of mania's words. "as to you, prince theiddat, where are the witnesses that will bear evidence in your favour and prove the justness of your claim to the possession of this throne?" phralaong replied: "my witnesses are not like yours, men or any living beings.[ ] the earth itself will give testimony to me. for, without alluding even to those offerings i have made during several previous existences, i will but mention the forty-seven great ones i made whilst i lived as prince wethandra." stretching out his right hand, which he had kept hitherto under the folds of his garments, and pointing to the earth, he said with a firm voice: "earth, is it not true that at the time i was prince wethandra i made forty great offerings?" the earth replied with a deep and loud roaring, resounding in the midst of manh's legions, like the sound of countless voices, threatening to spread death and destruction in their ranks. the famous charger of manh bent his knees, and paid homage to phralaong. manh himself, disheartened and discomfited, fled to the country of wathawatti. his followers were so overpowered by fear that they flung away all that could impede their retreat, and ran away in every direction. such was the confusion and disorder that prevailed that two warriors could not be seen following the same course in their flight. looking from their seats on the defeat of manh and the glorious victory of phralaong, the nats[ ] rent the air with shouts of exultation. the brahmas, nagas, and galongs joined the nats in celebrating his triumph over his enemies. they all hastened from more than ten thousand worlds to pay their respects and offer their felicitations, presenting him with flowers and perfumes, saying: "victory and glory to phralaong! shame and defeat to the infamous manh!" it was a little while before sunset when phralaong had achieved his splendid victory over his proud foe. at that time he was wrapped up, as it were, in the profoundest meditation. the extremities of the branches of the bodi tree[ ] fell gently over him, and, by their undulations, seemed caressing, as it were, his tsiwaran; they resembled so many beautiful nosegays of red flowers that were offered to him. at the first watch of the night phralaong applied all the energies of his powerful mind to ascertain the laws of the causes and effects, in order to account for all that is in existence. he argued in the following manner: "pain and all sorts of miseries do exist in this world. why do they exist? because there is birth. why is there birth? because there is conception. now conception does take place, because there is existence, or that moral state produced by the action or influence of merits and demerits. existence is brought in by _upadan_, or the combining of affections calculated to cause the coming into existence. the latter has for its cause the desire. the desire is produced by sensation. the latter is caused by the contact. the contact takes place because there are the six senses. the six senses do exist, because there is name and form, that is to say, the exterior sign of the ideal being and the type of the real being. name and form owe their existence to erroneous knowledge; the latter in its turn is produced by the imagination, which has for its cause ignorance."[ ] having followed in his mind the succession of the twelve causes and effect, and reached the last link of that chain, phralaong said to himself: "ignorance, or no science, is the first cause which gives rise to all the phenomena i have successively reviewed. from it springs the world and all the beings it contains. it is the cause of that universal illusion in which man and all beings are miserably lulled. by what means can this ignorance be done away with? doubtless by knowledge and true science. by means of the light that science spreads i clearly see the unreality of all that exists, and i am freed from that illusion which makes other beings to believe that such thing exists, when, in reality, it does not exist. the imagination, or the faculty to imagine the existence of things which do not exist, is done away with. the same fate is reserved to the false knowledge resulting therefrom to the name and form, to the six senses, to contact, to sensation, to desire, to conception, to existence, to birth, and to pain or miseries." * * * * * then phralaong says to himself: "the knowledge of the four great truths is the true light that can dispel ignorance and procure the real science, whereby the coming out from the whirlpool of existences, or from the state of illusion, can be perfectly effected. these four truths are: , the miseries of existence; , the cause productive of misery, which is the desire, ever-renewed, of satisfying oneself without being able ever to secure that end; , the destruction of that desire, or the estranging oneself from it, is the important affair deserving the most serious attention; , the means of obtaining the individual annihilation of that desire is supplied solely by the four meggas, or highways, leading to perfection. but these meggas can be followed only by those who have a right intention, a right will, and who, throughout life, exert themselves to regulate their action, conduct, language, thought, and meditations." it was then that the heart of phralaong acquired an unshakable firmness, a perfect purity or exemption from all passions, an unutterable meekness, and a strong feeling of tender compassion towards all beings. when these fundamental truths had been known, felt, and relished,[ ] phralaong's mind, casting a glance over the past, was able to discover at once all that had taken place during the countless states of his former existences. he recollected the name he had borne, those of his parents, the places he had seen and visited, the caste he had belonged to, and all the chief events that had marked the course of his progress through the continual migrations. he likewise saw reflected, as in a mirror, the former conditions of existence of all other beings. the immense development and expansion of his mind, which enabled him to fathom the depth of the past, happened during the first watch of the night. he applied now all the expanded powers of his incomparable mind to take a correct survey of all the beings now in existence. he glanced over all those that were in hell, and the other three states of punishment, those living on earth, and those dwelling in the twenty-six superior seats. he at once understood distinctly their state, condition, merits, demerits, and all that appertained to their physical and moral constitutive parts. this labour occupied his mind up to midnight. urged by the merciful and compassionate dispositions of his soul, phralaong often revolved within himself the following: "all is misery and affliction in this world; all beings are miserably detained in the vortex of existences; they float over the whirlpool of desire and concupiscence; they are carried to and fro by the fallacious cravings of a never-obtained satisfaction. they must be taught to put an end to concupiscence by freeing themselves from its influence. their minds must be imbued with the knowledge of the four great truths. the four ways that i have discovered shall inevitably lead men and nats to that most desirable end. these ways ought to be pointed out to them, that, by following them, men and nats may obtain the deliverance." whilst these thoughts thronged through his mind, a little before break of day, in the rd year of the eatzana era, on the day of the full moon of katson, the perfect science broke at once over him: he became the buddha. when this great wonder took place, ten thousand worlds were shaken twelve times with such a violence as to make hairs stand on one end. these words, "most excellent being," were heard throughout the same series of worlds. magnificent ornaments decorated all places. flagstaffs appeared in every direction, adorned with splendid streamers. of such dimensions were they that the extremities of those in the east reached the opposite side of the west; and those in the north, the southern boundary. some flags, hanging from the seats of brahmas, reached the surface of the earth. all the trees of ten thousand worlds shot out branches, loaded with fruits and flowers. the five sorts of lilies bloomed spontaneously. from the clefts of rocks beautiful flowers sprang out. the whole universe appeared like an immense garden, covered with flowers; a vivid light illuminated those places, the darkness of which could not be dispersed by the united rays of seven suns. the water, which fills the immensity of the deep, at a depth of eighty-four thousand youdzanas, became fresh and offered a most agreeable drink. rivers suspended their course; the blind recovered their sight, the deaf could hear, and the lame were able to walk freely. the captives were freed from their chains and restored to their liberty. innumerable other wonders took place at the moment phralaong received the supreme intelligence. he said then to himself, "previous to my obtaining the supreme knowledge, i have, during countless generations, moved in the circle of ever-renewed existences, and borne-up misery. now i see this distinctly. again, i perceive how i can emancipate myself from the trammels of existence, and extricate myself from all miseries and wretchedness attending generation; my will is fixed on the most amiable state of neibban. i have now arrived to that state of perfection that excludes all passions." it was at the full moon of the month katson, when these memorable occurrences took place, and it was daylight when phralaong at last obtained the fulness of the buddhaship. after this glorious and triumphant achievement, phralaong, whom from this moment we must call phra or buddha, continued to remain on the throne, in a cross-legged position, with a mind absorbed in contemplation during seven days. mental exertion and labour were at an end. truth in its effulgent beauty encompassed his mind and shed over it the purest rays. placed in that luminous centre, phra saw all beings entangled in the web of passions, tossed over the raging billows of the sea of renewed existences, whirling in the vortex of endless miseries, tormented incessantly and wounded to the quick by the sting of concupiscence, sunk into the dark abyss of ignorance, the wretched victims of an illusory, unsubstantial, and unreal world. he said then to himself: "in all the worlds there is no one but me who knows how to break through the web of passions, to still the waves that waft beings from one state into another, to save them from the whirlpool of miseries, to put an end to concupiscence and break its sting, to dispel the mist of ignorance by the light of truth, to teach all intelligent beings the unreality and nonexistence of this world, and thereby lead them to the true state of neibban." having thus given vent to the feelings of compassion that pressed on his benevolent heart, phra, glancing over future events, delighted in contemplating the great number of beings who would avail themselves of his preachings, and labour to free themselves from the slavery of passions. he counted the multitudes who would enter the ways that lead to the deliverance, and would obtain the rewards to be enjoyed by those who will follow one of those ways. the baranathee country would be favoured first of all with the preaching of the law of the wheel. he reviewed the countries where his religion would be firmly established. he saw that maheinda, the son of king asoka, would carry his law to ceylon, two hundred and thirty-six years after his neibban. when these and other subjects were fully exhausted, the most excellent phra came down from his throne and went to a distance of ten fathoms from the bodi tree, in a north-east direction. there he stood, his eyes fixedly riveted on the throne, without a single wink, during seven consecutive days, given up to the most intense and undisturbed meditation. the nats, observing this extraordinary posture, imagined that he regretted the throne he had just vacated, and that he wanted to repossess himself of it. they concluded that, such being the case, prince theiddat had not as yet obtained the buddhaship. when the period of seven days was over, buddha, who knew the innermost thoughts of the nats, resolved to put an end to their incredulous thinking respecting his person. for that purpose, he had recourse to the display of miraculous powers.[ ] he raised himself high up in the air, and, to their astonished regards, he wrought at once more than a thousand wonders, which had the immediate effect of silencing all their doubts, and convincing them that he was indeed the buddha. having come down to the place which he had started from, for the display of prodigies, buddha went to the north of the tree bodi at a distance of only two fathoms from it. he spent this time in walking to and fro from east to west, during seven days, over a road, prepared for that purpose by the nats. he was engaged all the while in the work of the sublimest contemplation. he then shaped his course in a north-west direction, at a distance of thirteen fathoms from the sacred tree. there stood a beautiful house, shining like gold, resplendent with precious stones. it was a temporary residence, purposely prepared for him by the nats. thither he repaired, and sat down in a cross-legged position during seven days. he devoted all his time to meditating on the abidamma, or the most excellent science. this science is divided into seven books. phra had already gone over the six first and fully mastered their contents, but the six glories had not as yet shot forth from his person. it was only after having mastered the contents of the last division, named pathan, divided into twenty-four parts, that the six glories appeared. like the great fishes that delight to sport only in the great ocean, the mind of buddha expanded itself with indescribable eagerness, and delighted to run unrestrained through the unbounded field opened before him by the contents of that volume. brown rays issued from his hairs, beard, and eyelids. gold-like rays shot forth from his eyes and skin; from his flesh and blood dashed out purple beams, and from his teeth and bones escaped rays, white like the leaves of the lily; from his hands and feet emanated rays of a deep-red colour, which, falling on the surrounding objects, made them appear like so many rubies of the purest water. his forehead sent forth undulating rays, resembling those reflected by cut crystal. the objects which received those rays appeared as mirrors, reflecting the rays of the sun. those six rays of various hues caused the earth to resemble a globe of the finest gold. those beams at first penetrated through our globe, which is eighty-two thousand youdzanas thick, and thence illuminated the mass of water which supports our planet. it resembled a sea of gold. that body of water, though four hundred and eighty thousand youdzanas thick, could not stop the elastic projection of those rays, which went forth through a stratum of air nine hundred and sixty thousand youdzanas thick, and were lost in the vacuum. some beams, following a vertical direction, rushed through the six seats of nats, the sixteen of brahmas, and the four superior ones, and thence were lost in vacuum. other rays, following a horizontal direction, penetrated through an infinite series of worlds. the sun, the moon, the stars appeared like opaque bodies, deprived of light. the famous garden of nats, their splendid palace, the ornaments hanging from the tree padetha were all cast into the shade and appeared obscure, as if wrapped up in complete darkness. the body of the chief brahma, which sends forth light through one million of systems, emitted then but the feeble and uncertain light of the glowworm at sunrise. this marvellous light, emanating from the person of buddha, was not the result of vowing or praying; but all the constituent parts of his body became purified to such an extent by the sublime meditation of the most excellent law that they shone with a matchless brightness. having thus spent seven days in that place, close to the bodi tree, he repaired to the foot of another gniaong tree, called adzapala, or the shepherds' tree, so called because, under its cooling shade, shepherds and their flocks of goats rested during the heat of the day. it was situated at the east of the bodi, at a distance of thirty fathoms. there he sat in a cross-legged position, during seven days, enjoying the sweetness of self-recollection. it was near to that place that the vile manh, who, since his great attack on buddha, had never lost sight of him, but had always secretly followed him with a wicked spirit, was compelled to confess that he had not been able to discover in that rahan anything blamable, and expressed the fear of seeing him at once pass over the boundaries of his empire. the tempter stooped in the middle of the highway, and across it drew successively sixteen lines, as he went on reflecting on sixteen different subjects. when he had thought over each of the ten great virtues, he drew, first, ten lines, saying: "the great rahan has indeed practised to a high degree those ten virtues. i cannot presume to compare myself to him." in drawing the eleventh, he confessed that he had not, like that rahan, the science that enabled to know the inclinations and dispositions of all beings. in drawing the twelfth, he said that he had not as yet acquired the knowledge of all that concerns the nature of the various beings. drawing the four remaining lines, he confessed successively that he did not feel, like that rahan, a tender compassion for the beings yet entangled in the miseries of existence, nor could he perform miracles, nor perceive everything, nor attain to the perfect and supreme knowledge of the law. on all these subjects he avowed his decided inferiority to the great rahan. whilst manh was thus engaged with a sad heart in meditating over those rather humiliating points, he was at last found out by his three daughters, tahna,[ ] aratee, and raga, who had for some time been looking after him. when they saw their father with a downcast countenance, they came to him, and inquired about the motive of his deep affliction. "beloved daughters," replied manh, "i see this rahan escaping from my dominion, and notwithstanding my searching examination, i have not been able to detect him in anything reprehensible. this is the only cause of my inexpressible affliction." "dear father," replied they, "banish all sorrows from your mind, and be of a good heart; we will very soon find out the weak side of the great rahan, and triumphantly bring him back within the hitherto unpassed limits of your empire." "beware of the man you will have to deal with," replied manh. "i believe that no effort, however great, directed against him, will ever be rewarded with success. he is of a firm mind and unshaken purpose. i fear you shall never succeed in bringing him back within my dominions." "dear father," said they, "we women know how to manage such affairs; we will catch him like a bird in the net of concupiscence; let fear and anxiety be for ever dispelled from your heart." having given this assurance, forthwith they went to buddha, and said to him, "illustrious rahan, we approach you respectfully and express the wish of staying with you, that we may minister to all your wants." without in the least heeding their words, or even casting a glance at them, the most excellent buddha remained unmoved, enjoying the happiness of meditation. knowing that the same appearance, face, and bodily accomplishments might not be equally pleasing, they assumed, one the appearance of a heart-winning young girl, another that of a blooming virgin, and the third that of a fine middle-aged beauty. having thus made their arrangements, they approached buddha, and several times expressed to him the desire of staying with him and ministering to his wants. unmoved by all their allurements, buddha said to them, "for what purpose do you come to me? you might have some chance of success with those that have not as yet extinguished the fire of passion, and rooted it from their heart; but i, like all the buddhas, my predecessors, have destroyed in me concupiscence, passion, and ignorance. no effort, on your part, will ever be able to bring me back into the world of passions. i am free from all passions, and have obtained supreme wisdom. by what possible means could you ever succeed in bringing me back into the whirlpool of passions?" the three daughters of manh, covered with confusion, yet overawed with admiration and astonishment, said to each other, "our father forsooth had given us a good and wise warning. this great rahan deserves the praises of men and nats. everything in him is perfect; to him it belongs to instruct men in all things they want to know." saying this, they, with a downcast countenance, returned to their father. it was in that very same place, at the foot of the adzapala gniaong, that a heretic pounha, named mingalika, proud of his caste, came with hasty steps, speaking loudly, and with little respect approached the spot where buddha was sitting.[ ] having entered into conversation with him, the pounha heard from his mouth instructions worthy of being ever remembered. he said to buddha, "lord gaudama, i have two questions to put to you. whence comes the name pounha? what are the duties to be performed in order to become a real pounha?" buddha, penetrating with the keen eye of wisdom into the innermost soul of his interlocutor, answered, "the real and genuine pounha is he who has renounced all passions, put an end to concupiscence, and has entered the ways leading to perfection. but there are others, who are proud of their origin, who walk hastily, speak with a loud voice, and who have not done what is needful to destroy the influence of passions. these are called pounhas because of their caste and birth. but the true sage avoids everything that is rash, impetuous or noisy: he has conquered all his passions, and put an end to the principle of demerits. his heart loves the repetition of formulas of prayers, and delights in the exercise of meditation. he has reached the last way to perfection. in him there is no longer wavering, or doubt, or pride. this man really deserves the name of pounha, or pure: he is indeed the true pounha according to the law." the instruction being finished, the pounha rose respectfully from his place, wheeled to the right and departed. buddha continued the sublime work of contemplating pure truth through the means of intense reflection. having remained seven days in that position, buddha arose in an ecstasy and went to the south-eastern side of the bodi tree, to a distance of an oothaba ( oothaba=to tas, ta=to cubits), on the sixth day after the full moon of nayon. on that spot there was a tank called hidza-lee-dana. on the bank of that tank, he sat under the shade of the kiin tree, in a cross-legged position during seven days, enjoying the delight of meditation. during those seven days rain fell in abundance, and it was very cold. a naga, chief of that tank, would have made a building to protect buddha against the inclemency of the weather, but he preferred, in order to gain greater merits, to coil himself up sevenfold round his person, and to place his head above him, with his large hood extended. when the seven days were over and the rain had ceased, the naga quitted his position; then assuming the appearance of a young man, he prostrated himself before buddha and worshipped him. buddha said: "he who aims at obtaining the state of neibban ought to possess the knowledge of the four roads leading thereto, as well as that of the four great truths and of all laws. he ought to bear no anger towards other men, nor harm them in any way soever. happy he who receives such instructions." buddha moved from that place, and went to the south of the bodi tree, to a distance of forty fathoms. at the foot of the linloon tree he sat in a cross-legged position, having his mind deeply engaged in the exercise of the sublimest contemplation. in that position he spent seven entire days, which completed the forty-nine days which were to be devoted to reflection and meditation around the bodi tree. when this period of days was over, at daybreak, on the fifth day after the full moon of watso, he felt the want of food. this was quickly perceived by a thagia, who hastened from his seat to the spot where buddha was staying, and offered him some thit khia fruits, others say kia-dzoo fruits, to prepare his system to receive more substantial food. after he had eaten them, the same celestial attendant brought him some water to rinse his mouth, and to wash his face and hands. buddha continued to remain in the same position under the cooling and protecting shade of the linloon tree. to consecrate, as it were, and perpetuate the remembrance of the seven spots occupied by buddha during the forty-nine days that he spent round the tree bodi, a dzedy was erected on each of those seven places. king pathenadi kosala surrounded them with a double wall, and subsequently king dammathoka added two others. there were only three openings, or gates, to penetrate into the enclosed ground, one on the north, another on the east, and the third on the south. the river neritzara rolls its deep blue waters in a south-eastern direction from the bodi tree, to a distance of eight oothabas from it. on the eastern bank of that stream another dzedy has been erected on the spot where, previous to his becoming a buddha, he had eaten the forty-nine mouthfuls of the delicious nogana offered to him by the pious thoodzata. whilst buddha was sitting in a cross-legged position under the linloon tree, two brothers named tapoosa and palekat, merchants by profession, arrived with five hundred carts in the oorouwela forest, at the very place where buddha was staying. they had sailed from their native town, called[ ] oukkalaba, which lies in a south-eastern direction from the mitzima country, bound for the port of adzeitta. after landing, they hired five hundred carts to carry their goods to a place called soowama. they were on their way to their destination when they arrived in the oorouwela forest. great was their surprise when they saw on a sudden all their carts unable to move, and arrested by some invisible power. a nat who had been formerly their relative stopped by his power the wheels of the carriages. surprised at such a wonder, the merchants prayed to the nat who was guardian of that place. the nat, assuming a visible shape, appeared before them and said to them: "the illustrious buddha who by the knowledge of the four great truths has arrived to the nature of phra, is now sitting at the foot of the linloon tree. go now to that place, and offer him some sweet bread and honey; you shall derive therefrom great merits for many days and nights to come." the two brothers, joyfully complying with the nat's request, prepared the sweet bread and honey, and hastened in the direction that had been indicated to them. having placed themselves in a suitable position and prostrated themselves before buddha, they said: "most glorious phra, please to accept these offerings; great merits doubtless will be our reward for many days to come." buddha had no patta to put those offerings in, for the one he had received from the brahma gatigara had disappeared when thoodzata made him her great offerings. whilst he was thinking on what he had to do, four nats came and presented him each with one patta, made of nila or sapphire stone. phra accepted the four pattas, not from motives of covetousness, but to let each nat have an equal share in such meritorious work. he put the four pattas one in the other, and by the power of his will they on a sudden became but one patta, so that each nat lost nothing of the merit of his offerings. buddha received the offerings of the two merchants in that patta, and satisfied his appetite. the two brothers said to buddha: "we have on this day approached you, worshipped you, and respectfully listened to your instructions; please to consider us as your devoted followers for the remainder of our lives."[ ] they obtained the position of upathaka. they continued addressing buddha, and said: "what shall we henceforth worship?" buddha, rubbing his hand over his head, gave them a few of the hairs that had adhered to his fingers, bidding them to keep carefully those relics. the two brothers, overjoyed at such a valuable present, most respectfully received it, prostrated themselves before buddha, and departed. footnotes [ ] the nats or dewatas play a conspicuous part in the affairs of this world. their seats are in the six lower heavens, forming, with the abode of man and the four states of punishment, the eleven seats of passions. but they often quit their respective places, and interfere with the chief events that take place among men. hence we see them ever attentive in ministering to all the wants of the future buddha. besides, they are made to watch over trees, forests, villages, towns, cities, fountains, rivers, &c. these are the good and benevolent nats. this world is also supposed to be peopled with wicked nats, whose nature is ever prone to the evil. a good deal of the worship of buddhists consists in superstitious ceremonies and offerings made for propitiating the wicked nats, and obtaining favours and temporal advantages from the good ones. such a worship is universal, and fully countenanced by the talapoins, though in opposition to the real doctrines of genuine buddhism. all kinds of misfortunes are attributed to the malignant interference of the evil nats. in cases of severe illness that have resisted the skill of native medical art, the physician gravely tells the patient and his relatives that it is useless to have recourse any longer to medicines, but a conjuror must be sent for to drive out the malignant spirit, who is the author of the complaint. meanwhile directions are given for the erection of a shed, where offerings intended for the inimical nat are deposited. a female relative of the patient begins dancing to the sound of musical instruments. the dance goes on, at first in rather a quiet manner, but it gradually grows more animated until it reaches the acme of animal frenzy. at that moment the bodily strength of the dancing lady becomes exhausted; she drops on the ground in a state of apparent faintness. she is then approached by the conjuror, who asks her if the invisible foe has relinquished his hold over the diseased. being answered in the affirmative, he bids the physician give medicines to the patient, assuring him that his remedies will now act beneficially for restoring the health of the sick, since their action will meet no further opposition from the wicked nat. ignorance brings everywhere superstition in its train. when man is unacquainted with the natural cause that has produced a result, or an effect, which attracts powerfully his mind's attention and affects him to a great degree, he is induced by his own weakness to believe in the agency of some unknown being, to account for the effect that he perceives. he devises the most ridiculous means for expressing his gratitude to his invisible benefactor, if the result be a favourable one; and has recourse to the most extravagant measures to counteract the evil influence of his supposed enemy, if the result be fatal to him. having once entered into the dark way of superstition, man is hurried on in countless false directions by fear, hope, and other passions, in the midst of the daily occurrence of multifarious and unforeseen events and circumstances. hence the expression or manifestation of his superstition assumes a variety of forms, and undergoes changes to an extent that baffles every attempt at either counting their numberless kinds or following them up through their ever-changing course. in addition to the stores of superstitions bequeathed by the generation that has preceded him, man has those of his own creation; and the latter, if the thought of his mind and the desires of his heart could be analysed, would be found far exceeding the former in number. having spent many years in a country where buddhism has prevailed from time immemorial, and observed the effects of superstition over the people in their daily doings, the writer has come to the conclusion that there is scarcely an action done without the influence of some superstitious motive or consideration. but the most prolific source of superstition is the belief in the existence of countless good and evil nats, with whom the imagination of buddhists has peopled this world. it can scarcely be understood how the followers of an atheistical creed can make, consistently with their opinions, an attempt at prayer. such an act of devotion implies the belief in a being superior to men, who has a controlling power over them, and in whose hands their destinies are placed. with a believer in god, prayer is a sacred, nay, a natural duty. but such cannot be the case with atheists. despite the withering and despairing influence of atheism, nothing can possibly obliterate from the conscience and heart of man that inward faith in a supreme being. the pious thoodzata has in view the attainment of two objects: she prays, without knowing to whom, that by the agency of some one she might obtain the objects of her petition; she is anxious to show her gratitude when she sees that her prayer has been heard. her faith in the _quasi_ omnipotence of the genii makes her address thanks to them. the nat is not the person to whom her prayer appears directed, but he is rather a witness of her petition. the burmese, in general, under difficult circumstances, unforeseen difficulties, and sudden calamities, use always the cry, _phra kaiba_--god assist me--to obtain from above assistance and protection. yet that phra cannot be their buddha, though he be in their opinion the phra _par excellence_, since they openly declare that he in no way interferes in the management of this world's affairs. whence that involuntary cry for assistance, but from the innate consciousness that above man there is some one ruling over his destinies? an atheistical system may be elaborated in a school of metaphysics, and forced upon ignorant and unreflecting masses, but practice will ever belie theory. man, in spite of his errors and follies, is naturally a believing being; his own weakness and multiplied wants ever compel him to have recourse to some great being that can help and assist him, and supply, to a certain extent, the deficiency which, in spite of himself, he is compelled to acknowledge existing in him as a stern and humiliating reality. [ ] the burmese, like all trans-gangetic nations, divide the year into twelve lunar months of twenty-nine and thirty days alternately. every third year they add one month, or as they say, double the month of watso (july). the year begins on, or about, the th of april. the days of worship are the days of the four quarters of the moon; but the days of the new and full moon seem to have preference over those of the two other quarters, which latter are scarcely noticed or distinguished from common days. it was on the day of the full moon of april that thoodzata made her grand offering. [ ] the burmese translator, not having given in his remarks the explanation or interpretation of phralaong's five dreams, it seems rather presumptuous to attempt doing a thing, the neglect of which, on the part of the author, may be attributed either to voluntary omission or to incapacity and inability. let us try to make up, in part, for the deficiency. the first dream prognosticated the future greatness of phralaong, whose sway, by the diffusion of his doctrines throughout the world, was to be universal, extending from one sea to the other sea. the grass growing out of his navel and reaching to the sky was indicative of the spreading of his law, not only amongst the beings inhabiting the seat of men, but also amidst those dwelling in the abodes of nats and brahmas. the ants covering his legs offer an enigma, the explanation of which is reserved to some future oedipus. as to the birds of various colours, gathering round him, from the four points of the compass, and on a sudden becoming all white, by their contact with him, they represent the innumerable beings that will come to hear the preaching of the future buddha with divers dispositions, and different progress in the way of merits, and will all be perfected by their following the true way to merit, that he will point out to them. the fifth dream in which phralaong thought he was walking on a mountain of filth, without being in the least contaminated by it, foreshowed the incomparable perfection and purity of buddha, who, though remaining in the world of passions, was no more to be affected by their influence. [ ] we have now reached the most interesting episode of phralaong's life. he is to become a perfected buddha under the shade of the gniaong or banyan tree (_ficus indica_, _ficus religiosa_). there are two circumstances attending that great event, deserving peculiar notice. the first is the preference given to the east over the three other points of the compass, and the second, the mighty combat that takes place between phralaong and the wicked nat manh, or mar. i notice the first circumstance because it agrees with the tradition prevailing amongst most nations previous to or about the coming of our lord, that from the east there was to come an extraordinary personage, who would confer on the human race the greatest benefits, and cause the return of happy times, like the golden age so much celebrated by poets. the roman historian suetonius bears testimony to the existence of that tradition as being universally known in his own days. it is not impossible that the same notion, not unknown in the far east, might have induced phralaong to look towards the east at the supreme moment when perfect intelligence was to become his happy lot. it may be said in opposition to this supposition, that the splendour and magnificence of the sun, emerging from the bosom of night, and dispelling darkness by pouring a flood of light on the face of the earth, restoring nature to life and action, was a sufficient inducement to phralaong for giving preference to the east. but to an ascetic like him, who is convinced that this world is a mere illusion, such a consideration would weigh very little on his mind, and would not be a sufficient motive to induce him to give so marked a preference to the east. the second circumstance remarkable for the time it occurred, is the great combat between phralaong and manh. the first is the personification of goodness and benevolence towards all beings; the second is the personification of consummate wickedness. the contest is to take place between the good principle on the one hand, and the evil one on the other. phralaong, on his becoming buddha, will preach a law designed to dispel mental darkness, to check vicious passions, to show the right way to perfection, to unloose the ties that keep beings in the wretched state of existence, and enable them to reach safely the peaceful shores of neibban. manh, the devil himself, the father of darkness, of lies and deceit, delights in seeing all beings plunged into the abyss of vices, carried out of the right way by the impetuous and irresistible torrent of their passions, and doomed to turn for ever in the whirlpool of endless existences. he looks upon himself as the king of this world, and proudly exults in contemplating all beings bending their neck under his tyrannical yoke, and acknowledging his undisputed power. now the moment approaches when a mighty antagonist will contend with him for the empire of the world. his mission will be to labour incessantly for the delivery of all beings from the grasp of their mortal enemy, and set them free from the tyranny of passions. manh is enraged at the audacious pretensions of phralaong. hence the gigantic efforts he makes to maintain his rights, and retain possession of his empire. at the time phralaong left the world to become a rahan, manh endeavoured to dissuade him from attempting such a design. but on this occasion, the tempter summons all his forces to avert, by an irresistible attack, the deadly blow soon to be levelled at him. it is needless to add that the reader, in perusing the detailed account of the attack of manh against phralaong, ought to bear in mind that it exhibits throughout but an allegory of the opposition of evil to good. the victory of phralaong over manh exemplifies the final triumph of truth over error. when the contest was nearly over, phralaong objected to the claims of manh to the possession of his throne, on the ground that he never had practised the ten great virtues, nor performed works of kindness, charity, and benevolence, which alone can entitle a being to obtain the buddhaship. it is to be borne in mind that these qualifications form the real characteristics of a buddha, together with the possession of the supreme intelligence. in this system, they admit that there exist certain beings called pitzega-buddhas, who possess all the knowledge and science of a genuine buddha, but as they are divested of those benevolent feelings which induce the former to labour earnestly for the benefit and salvation of all beings, they cannot be assimilated to the real buddhas. the cross-legged position which our buddha has always taken in preference to any other, whilst he spent forty-nine days at the foot of and in various places round the bodi tree, is, as every one knows, peculiar to and a favourite with all asiatics. but with him, it is the fittest position for meditation and contemplation. hence most of the statues or images of gaudama exhibit or represent him in the cross-legged position which he occupied when he attained the buddhaship. as this event is by far the most important of his life, it is but natural that this great occurrence should ever be forced upon the attention and memory of his followers, by objects representing him on that most important stage of his last existence. it is not unusual to meet with statues of gaudama, sometimes of colossal dimensions, representing him in a reclining position. this is the peculiar situation he occupied when he died. hence those two most common images of gaudama are designed to remind his followers of the two greatest circumstances of his life, viz., his becoming buddha, and his entering the state of neibban. here again one is forcibly compelled to reflect on the singular _rôle_ attributed to those pitzega-buddhas. they possess all the science of a buddha, but are deficient in that kindness, benevolence, and zeal which prompt the real buddhas to labour so strenuously for the deliverance of all beings. they appear only in those ages of darkness and ignorance which are not to be brightened and enlightened by the presence of a buddha. they are like smaller luminaries, shedding a pale light among men to prevent their sinking into an unfathomable abyss of ignorance; they maintain on earth some sparks of the knowledge of fundamental truths, which otherwise would be completely obliterated from the memory of men. not unlike the prophets of old, they prepare men in an indirect manner for the coming of the future deliverer. their mission being at an end, when a buddha is to come among men, they disappear, and none of them is to be seen either in the days of buddha or during all the time his religion is to last. [ ] the witness whom phralaong summoned in support of his claim to the undisturbed possession of the throne was the earth itself. it maybe from the example that was set on this occasion that buddhists have borrowed the habit of calling the earth as a witness of the good works they have done or are doing. i will briefly relate what is done and said on such occasions. during my former residence in burmah i observed on a certain occasion, when taking my evening walk, about ten or twelve persons of both sexes assembled on a rather retired spot in the vicinity of a pagoda. as they appeared all quite attentive, i came near to them to see what was the cause that had brought them thither, and what occurrence seemed to rivet their attention. as i was known to some of them, they were not frightened by my sudden apparition. on my asking them the motive of their assembling here at a late hour, they said that, having buried yesterday a child two years old, they came to make some offerings of boiled rice, plantains, and other fruits, to propitiate the nat of the place. having asked them to repeat the formula they had uttered on the occasion, they kindly complied with my request. here is the substance of that formula. "believing in the three precious things, buddha, the law, and the assembly of the perfect, i make this offering, that i may be delivered from all present and future miseries. may all beings existing in the four states of punishment reach the fortunate seats of nats. i wish all my relatives and all men inhabiting this and other worlds to have a share in this meritorious work. o earth and you nats, guardians of this place, be witness to the offering i am making." on uttering these last words, the offerer of the present, or a talapoin, sent for this purpose, pours down some water on the ground. [ ] as the nats and all other beings are to be benefited by the preachings of buddha, it is but natural that they all join in singing his praises and exalting his glorious achievements. the nagas and galongs are fabulous animals, which are often mentioned in the course of this legend. it has been observed in a former note that, according to the buddhistic notions, animals are beings in a state of punishment, differing from man, not in nature, but in merits. some of them, having nearly exhausted the sum of their demerits, begin to feel the influence of former merits. they are supposed to have, to a certain extent, the use of reason. no wonder if they rejoice at seeing the triumph of him who is to help them in advancing towards a condition better than their present one. [ ] the banyan tree, at the foot of which phralaong obtains perfect intelligence, is occasionally called throughout this narrative the bodi tree. the word bodi means wisdom, science, or knowledge. the burmese, in their sacred writings, always mention the tree by that name, because, under its shade, perfect science was communicated to phralaong. it is supposed to occupy the very centre of the island of dzampudiba. during all the while phra or buddha (let us call him now by that name) remained under that tree his mind was engaged in the most profound meditation, which the gigantic efforts of his enemy could scarcely interrupt. it is not to be inferred from the narrative in the text that supreme intelligence was communicated suddenly or by miraculous process to our buddha. he was already prepared, by former mental labours, for that grand result; he had previously capacitated himself, by studies and reflection, for the reception of that more than human science; he required but a last and mighty effort of his intelligence to arrive finally at the acme of knowledge, and thereby to become a perfect buddha. that last effort was made on this occasion, and crowned with the most complete success. he gained the science of the past, present, and future. it would be somewhat curious to investigate the motives that have determined buddhists to give to that sacred tree the name of bodi. at first sight one will infer that such a name was given to the tree because, under its refreshing and cooling shade the bodi, or supreme intelligence, was communicated to phralaong. the occurrence, however extraordinary it be, is scarcely sufficient to account for such an appellation. bearing in mind the numerous and striking instances of certain revealed facts and truths, offered to the attention of the reader of this legend, in a deformed but yet recognisable shape, it would not be quite out of the limits of probability to suppose that this is also a remnant of the tradition of the tree of knowledge that occupied the centre of the garden of eden. [ ] the theory of the twelve causes and effects is, in itself, very abstruse, and almost above the comprehension of those uninitiated in the metaphysics of buddhists. i will attempt to analyse it in as simple and clear a way as possible. this theory is very ancient, probably coeval with the first ages of buddhism. it forms this basis of its ontology and metaphysics in the same manner as the four great and transcendent truths are the foundation whereupon rests the system of morals. it is probable that gaudama, in his preachings, which were very simple, and within the reach of ordinary minds, never formulated his doctrine on this essential point in such a dry and concise manner. but the seed was sown, and the germ deposited here and there in his instructions. his immediate disciples, in endeavouring to give a distant shape to their master's doctrines, gradually framed the formula or theory just stated. it, in fact, presents the very characteristics of a system elaborated in a philosophical school. in taking our departure from the first cause, which is _awidza_, or ignorance, or the wanting in science, or no knowledge, we have to follow the different stages and conditions of a being until it reaches decrepitude, old age, and death. when we speak of ignorance, or no science, we must not suppose the material existence of a being that ignores. but we must take ignorance in an abstract sense, deprived of forms, and subsisting in a manner very different from what we are wont to consider ordinary beings. a european has a great difficulty in finding his way through a process of reasoning so extraordinary, and so different from that positivism which he is used to. but with the buddhist the case is widely different. he can pass from the abstract to the concrete, from the ideal to the real, with the greatest ease. but let us follow the scale of the causes and effects, upon which there are twelve steps. from ignorance comes _sangkara_, that is to say, conception or imagination, which mistakes for reality what is unreal, which looks on this world as something substantial, whilst it is, indeed, nothing but shadow and emptiness, assuming forms which pass away as quick as the representations of theatrical exhibitions. sangkara, in its turn, begets _wignian_, or knowledge, attended with a notion of sentiment, implying that of soul and life, in an abstract sense. from wignian proceeds _namrup_, the name and form, because knowledge can have for its object but name and form, &c., or, to speak in the language of buddhists, things that are external and internal. but let it be borne in mind that what is herein meant is but the individuality of an ideal being. the name and form give birth to the _chayatana_, six senses, or seats of the sensible qualities. to our division of the five ordinary senses buddhists add the sixth sense of mano, or the heart, the internal sense. through the senses we are put in communication or contact with all objects; hence the six senses give rise to the sixth cause _pasa_, which means, properly speaking, contact. from this cause flows the seventh one, called _wedana_, or sensation, or, more generally still, sensibility. in fact, there can be no contact from which there will not result some sensation, either pleasant or unpleasant, _wedana_ gives infallibly rise to _tahna_, or passion, or desire, or inclination. from this point the series of causes and effects is comparatively easy, because it presents conditions essentially connected with a material object. by tahna we ought not to understand only the mere inclination that the sexes have one for the other, but the general propensity created in a being by any contact whatever, or perhaps, as usual with buddhists, the desire taken in an abstract sense. the immediate result from tahna is _upadan_, the attachment, or the conception. it is that state in which the desire adheres to something, assumes a shape. it is, in fact, the being conceived. from the state of conception the being passes into that of _bawa_, or existence, or that condition which is created and made by the influence of former good or bad deeds preceding birth, which is but the apparition of the being into this world. _dzati_, or birth, is the eleventh cause. it is the ushering of a being into the world. there are six ways by which a being comes into this world, viz., those of nat, man, assura, preitta, animal, and the inhabitant of hell. birth is accomplished in four different manners, by humidity, an egg, a matrice, and metamorphosis. the twelfth and last step in the ladder of the causes and effects is decrepitude and death. in fact, every being that is born must grow old, decay, and finally die. such is the process followed by buddhists in attempting to account for all that exists. what effect could such a reasoning have over the mind of the generality of hearers it is difficult to say. but we may rest assured that, though these principles existed, as an embryo, in the discourses of the author of buddhism, they were never laid before the generality of hearers in that crude scholastic form. such abstruse ideas, when analysed and commented upon by buddhist doctors, gave rise to the most opposite conclusions. the materialist school based its revolting doctrines upon that theory; we may add that the opinions of that school are generally held in burmah, and by the great mass of buddhists. some other doctors reasoned in the following manner: ignorance supposes two things, a being ignoring and a thing ignored, that is to say, man and the world. they admitted the eternity of a soul which had to pass through the series above enumerated. with them metempsychosis was a process exactly similar to that imagined by the brahmins. as to the world, it was, to them, an unreality. knowledge enabled them to come to the position of understanding and believing that there is no such thing as what we by mistake call world. the latter opinion, which seems to admit of a principle existing distinct from matter, is opposed to the former and general one, which supposes that spirit is but a modification of matter. we deliberately make use of the doubt, implying expression, at the head of the preceding sentence, respecting the real opinions of the latter school, because, in their way of arguing, it is impossible not to come to the painful conclusion that they ignore, or do not admit, a distinction between spirit and matter. [ ] in a work different from that which has been translated is found a more developed exposition of the four great and sublime truths. we think that the reader will like to see in what manner buddhists themselves understand this important subject, which is, with them, the foundation of their doctrine on morals. there are four great truths: pain, the production of pain, the destruction of pain, and the way leading to that destruction. what is pain, which is the first of the great truths? it is birth, old age, sickness, death, the coming in contact with what we dislike, the separation from what we feel an attachment for, the illusion which begets false knowledge. all that is pain. what is the production of pain, the second sublime truth? it is the desire which incessantly longs for an illusory satisfaction, which can never be obtained. that desire is a perpetually renewed craving, coveting objects here and there, and never satiated. such is the cause productive of pain; such is the prolific source of all miseries. what is the destruction of pain, which is the third great truth? it is the doing away with that desire which always shows itself, searches after this or that object, is always attended with feelings of pleasure, or some other sensations. it is the perfect and entire stifling of that craving which always covets, and is never satiated. the estranging oneself from that desire and that craving, the complete destruction of both, constitutes the third great truth. what is the way leading to the destruction of that desire, which is the fourth great truth? the way which one has to follow, in order to obtain that most desirable result, is that which the wise man invariably follows, when he is with an intention, will, diligence, action, life, language, thought, and meditation, always pure and correct. the four truths are exceedingly praised by buddhists. they constitute what is emphatically called the law of the wheel, incessantly revolving upon itself, and always presenting successively those four points to the attentive consideration and affectionate piety of the faithful. they are the offensive weapons wherewith passions are attacked and destroyed: they are the sword that cuts asunder the link that retains a being in the circle of existences. the revelation, or manifestation of those truths, is the great work that a buddha has to perform. when it is made, all beings in their respective seats rejoice in an extraordinary manner. inanimate nature even partakes in the universal joy. the earth shakes with a great violence, and the greatest prodigies proclaim aloud the fortunate manifestation of a law which opens to all beings the way leading to deliverance. the preaching of that doctrine took place for the first time in the forest of migadawon, not far from baranathee, in the presence and for the benefit of the five rahans, who had attended on buddha, during the six years of mortification which he spent to prepare and qualify himself for the buddhaship. [ ] buddhists allow to their buddha the power of working wonders and miracles. how is this power conferred upon him? this is a difficulty they cannot explain satisfactorily. the science of buddha makes him acquainted with all the laws regulating nature, that is to say, the _ensemble_ of the animate and inanimate beings constituting a world; but one is at a loss to find the origin of that power which enables him, as often as he likes, to suspend the course of those laws. be that as it may, certain it is that buddha resorted always, during the course of his preachings, to miracles, in order to convince those who seemed to listen with rather an incredulous ear to his doctrines. miracles were used successfully, as powerful and irresistible weapons, against certain heretics, the brahmins, in particular, who taught doctrines opposed to his own. they often accompanied his preachings, for increasing faith in the heart of his hearers. [ ] the great tempter had been foiled in all his attempts to conquer buddha. in the sadness of his heart he was compelled to acknowledge the superiority of his opponent and confess his defeat. his three daughters came to console him, promising that they would, by their united efforts, overcome the firmness of the great rahan, by awakening in his heart the fire of concupiscence. the names of those three daughters of manh denote concupiscence. these new enemies of buddha, therefore, are mere personifications of the passion of lust. pride, personified in manh, had proved powerless against the virtue of buddha; he is now assailed from a different quarter; the attack is to be directed against the weakest side of human nature. but it is as successless as the former one: it affords to buddha another occasion for a fresh triumph. [ ] in burmah the originator of the great buddhistic system is called gaudama, and this appellation, according to many, appears to be his family name. when he is called rahan gaudama, it means the ascetic belonging to the family of gaudama. in nepaul, the same personage is known under the name of thakiamuni, that is to say, the ascetic of the thakia family. those who refused to believe in buddha and his doctrines, those who held tenets disagreeing with his own, and professed what, in the opinion of their adversaries, was termed a heretical creed, invariably called buddha by his family name, placing him on the same level with so many of his contemporaries who led the same mode of life. the siamese give the appellation of sammana khodom to their buddha, that is to say, thramana gaudama, or gautama. the sanscrit word thramana means an ascetic who has conquered his passions and lives on alms. gaudama belonged to the kchatria caste. kings and all royal families in those days came out of the same caste. hence his father thoodaudana was king of the country of kapilawot, anciently a small state, north of goruckpore. the young pounha, not unlike the young man mentioned in the gospel, had, by the preachings of gaudama, become acquainted with all the laws and practices relating to the general duties and obligations incumbent on men in general. he might have perhaps added that he had observed all those precepts from his youth, or, at least, that he was sure now, with the additional light he had received from his eminent teacher, to observe faithfully all the injunctions mentioned in the course of the lecture: but he was not satisfied with an ordinary proficiency in virtue and observances; he aimed at superior attainments; he wished to obtain the greatest perfection, that is to say, that of brahmas. in what does such a perfection consist? the book of metaphysics informs us that the five states of dzan, or contemplations, are enjoyed by the beings located in the sixteen seats of brahmas, in the following order. the first state, or that of consideration, is shared by all the beings inhabiting the three first seats of brahmas. their occupation is to consider the various subjects the mind has to dwell on. the second dzan, or reflection, is reserved for the beings occupying the next three seats. those beings have no more to look out for subjects of meditation. their sole occupation is to dive into truth and fathom its depth and various bearings. the third state of dzan procures the pleasure which is derived from the contemplation of truth, and belongs to the beings of the three seats, superior to those just alluded to; in the fourth dzan is enjoyed a placid happiness, which is the result of the possession of truth; it is reserved for the beings of the three next seats. the fifth dzan, or perfect stability, is the happy lot of the beings living in the five last seats. those fortunate inmates are so entirely rooted in truth, and so perfectly exempt from all that causes mutability, that they arrive at a state of complete fixity, the whole of their soul being riveted on truth. apology is certainly due to the reader, who is but slightly initiated in such abstruse subjects, for laying before him particulars with which he is so unfamiliar; but this trouble must be borne up by him who desires to obtain access into the gloomy sanctuary of buddhism. [ ] the episode of these two merchants is well known to the inhabitants of the irrawaddy valley. in three different manuscripts which the writer has had in his hands, he has found it related with almost the same particulars. oukkalaba, the place the two young men started from, was situated probably on the spot now occupied by the village of twaintay, or not far from it. how far that place was from the sea in those remote times it is not possible to ascertain with precision. certain it is, that it was a port from which vessels sailed across the bay of bengal. the port of eedzeitha has not as yet been identified with any known locality. it was situated in all probability between the mouth of the krichna and that of the hoogly. one of the manuscripts mentions that when gaudama handed over to the two merchants eight hairs of his head, he bade them, on their arrival in their country, deposit the hairs on a small hill called seingouttara, where the relics of the three former buddhas of our period had been enshrined. they were twenty-seven days in reaching maudin or cape negrais, rather a long voyage. having come to their own place, they related to the governor all the particulars of their interesting journey. the latter, without loss of time, assembled the people and set out in search of the seingouttara mount. all the eminences were cleared of their brushwood, but the mount could not be discovered. not knowing what to do, they consulted the nats on that affair. at last, through their assistance, the mount was found out. but when they inquired about the place of the relics of the three former buddhas, the nats of yesapan, inandra, and gauveinda confessed that they knew nothing on the subject, but referred the inquirers to other nats older than they, viz.: those of deckina, yauhani, maubee, ameisa, and tsoolay, who at once pointed out the spot which they were so eagerly searching after. this spot is no other than the one over which stands and towers the lofty and massive shoay dagon. they erected a dzedy, in which they enshrined the relics they had brought with them, the eight hairs of buddha. this story is doubtless the foundation on which rests the popular belief that those very hairs are to this day in the interior of that monument, and the true source from which has originated the profound veneration which, in our own days, buddhists, from all parts of burmah, siam, and the shan states, pay by their pilgrimages and offerings to the dagon pagoda. [ ] upasaka is a pali word which is designed to mean those persons who, having heard the instructions of buddha, and professed a faith or belief in him and his doctrines, did not enter the profession of rahans. hence they are quite distinct from the bikus or mendicants, who formed the first class of the hearers of buddha, and renounced the world in imitation of their great master. the upasakas were therefore people adhering to the doctrines of buddha, but as yet remaining engaged in the ordinary pursuits of life. the two brothers became disciples of buddha, but not of the first class, since they did not embrace the more perfect mode of life of the ascetics. this is the first instance in this legend of an allusion being made to relics, that is to say, to objects supposed to be surrounded with a certain amount of sacredness, and esteemed on that account to be worthy of receiving from devotees respect and veneration. the two young converts, not as yet confirmed in the new faith they had embraced, thought they wanted some exterior object to which they might hereafter direct their homage and offer their respects. they were as yet far from being acquainted with the sublime science of their eminent teacher, who, disregarding matter and all its modifications, could not but feel quite indifferent respecting the pretended value of relics of even the most sacred character. how is it that the stern moralist, the contemner of this illusory world, could think of giving a few hairs of his head to two new young converts, that they might use them as objects of worship? buddha doubtless knew exactly and appreciated admirably the wants and necessities of human nature as it is, and will very likely ever be to the end of ages. men are led, actuated, impressioned, and influenced by the senses; in fact, it is through their senses that the knowledge of things is conveyed to their minds. he gave to his imperfectly instructed disciples a thing that would serve to vivify and reanimate in their memory the remembrance of buddha, and of the instructions they had heard from him. those grossly-minded hearers asked for an object they might carry about with them and worship. buddha, out of deference for their weak intellect, gave them a few hairs of his head, the sight of which was designed to maintain in their souls a tender affection for the person of him these things had belonged to. this subject will receive hereafter the further treatment it deserves when we come to examine the nature of the worship paid by buddhists to the images of gaudama, and to the relics and dzedis. chapter vi. _buddha hesitates to undertake the task of preaching the law -- the great brahma entreats him to preach the law to all beings -- his assent to the entreaties -- journey towards migadawon -- he meets ouppaka -- his first preachings -- conversion of a young nobleman named ratha, followed by that of his father and other relatives -- conversion of several other noblemen -- instructions to the rahans -- conversion of the three kathabas._ having come to the end of his great meditations,[ ] buddha left this spot and returned to the place called adzapala, where he revolved the following subject in his mind:--"the knowledge," said he, "of the law and of the four great truths, which i alone possess, is very hard to be had. the law is deep; it is difficult to know and understand it; it is very sublime, and can be comprehended only by the means of earnest meditation. it is sweet, filling the soul with joy, and accessible only to the wise. now all beings are sunk very low by the influence of the five great passions; they cannot free themselves from their baneful operation, which is the source of all mutability. but the law of mutability is the opposite of the law of neibban or rest. this law is hard to be understood. if i ever preach that law, beings will not be able to understand me, and from my preaching there will result but a useless fatigue and unprofitable weariness," buddha thus remained almost disinclined to undertake the great duty of preaching the law. the great brahma, observing what was taking place in buddha's soul, cried out: "alas! all mankind are doomed to be lost. he who deserves to be worshipped by all beings now feels no disposition to announce the law to them." he instantly left his seat, and having repaired to the presence of phra, his cloak over his shoulders with one extremity hanging backward, he bent his knee, lifted up his joined hands to the forehead before the sage, and said to him: "most illustrious buddha, who art adorned with the six glories, do condescend to preach the most excellent law; the number of those buried under the weight and filth of passions is comparatively small; if they do not listen to the law there will be no great loss. but there is an immense number of beings who will understand the law. in this world there are beings who are moderately given up to the gratification of sensual appetites; and there are also a great many who are following heretical opinions to whom the knowledge of truth is necessary, and who will easily come to it. lay now open the way that leads to the perfection of ariahs; those perfections are the gates to neibban." thus he entreated buddha. this brahma had been in the time of buddha kathaba a rahan, under the name of thabaka, and was transferred to the first seat of brahma for the duration of a world. on hearing the supplications of that brahma, buddha began to feel a tender compassion for all beings. with the keen eyes of a buddha he glanced over the whole world. he discovered distinctly those beings who were as yet completely sunk in the filth of passions, those who were but partly under the control of passions, and those whose dispositions seemed to be more promising. he then made to the chief of brahmas the solemn promise that he would preach his law to all beings. satisfied with the answer he had received, the chief rose up, withdrew respectfully at a proper distance, and turning on the right, left the presence of buddha and returned to his own seat. another thought preoccupied the mind of buddha. "to whom," said he, "shall i announce the law?" having pondered a while over this subject, he added: "the rathee alara of the kalama race is gifted with wisdom and an uncommonly penetrating mind; passions have scarcely any influence over him. i will first preach to him the most excellent law." a nat then said to phra that alara had died seven days ago. buddha, to whom the past is known, had already seen that alara was dead. he said: "great indeed is the loss alara has met with; he would have doubtless been able to understand right well the law i intended to preach to him. to whom shall i go now?" having paused a while, he added: "the rathee oodaka, son of prince rama, has a quick perception; he will easily understand my doctrine; to him i will announce the law." but the same nat told him that oodaka had died the night before last, at midnight. "o! great is the loss that has come upon oodaka; he would have easily acquired the knowledge of the perfect law." buddha considered a third time, and said to himself: "to whom shall i go to preach the law?" after a moment's delay he added: "many are the services i received in the wilderness from the five rahans who lived with me.[ ] i will repay their good offices to me, by preaching to them the law, but where are they now?" his penetrating regards soon discovered them in the solitude of migadawon. having enjoyed himself in the place adzapala, buddha went on towards the country of baranathee. all the former buddhas travelled through the air, but our buddha, who had merciful designs over upaka, went on foot. on his way to the village of gaya, at a distance of three gawots from the bodi tree, buddha went to rest, at midday, for a while under the cooling shade of a tree. there he was seen by the heretic rahan upaka, who, approaching near him, said, "o rahan, all your exterior bespeaks the most amiable qualities; your countenance is at once modest and beautiful. under what teacher have you become a rahan? to what law or doctrine have you given preference in your arduous studies?" buddha answered: "upaka, i have triumphed over all the laws of mutability; i am acquainted with all the laws that rule this universe, and the beings existing therein; from concupiscence and other passions i am wholly disengaged. i have come to preach the most excellent law to all beings, and teach them the four great truths i alone am acquainted with. i will beat the great drum of the law. i have no teacher, and among nats and men there is none equal to me. because of my victory, i have been named zeena. now i am proceeding to the country of baranathee, for the sake of preaching the law." upaka replied, "you are certainly the illustrious gaudama." he then shook his head, turned away from the road, and went to the village of wingaha. the instructions, however, germinated as good seed in the soul of upaka, and were the foundation of his subsequent conversion, which happened as follows:--after this interview with gaudama, upaka dwelt as a hermit in the village of wingaha, where a shed was erected for his dwelling. a hunter brought him support. it happened that the hunter being engaged in a hunting excursion, his daughter went to the hermit's cell, to carry him his food. upaka was smitten by the beauty of the damsel. he stretched himself on his belly and said to himself, "i will take no food, nor change this position, unless i obtain the object of my wishes." he stayed for several days in that position without uttering a word, or making a single movement, or taking any food. at last the hunter returned, and went forthwith to the hermit's cell to inquire about the cause of his strange behaviour. he pulled him by the feet, calling him aloud by the name of hermit; after a while a sepulchral groan was heard, indicating that he was still alive. the good hunter affectionately entreated him to mention to him what he wanted; that he was ready to give him anything that he would ask. the hermit a second time made a prolonged groan, as a man endeavouring to gather strength. he then mentioned to the hunter the passion he had for his daughter, and swore that he would die on the spot if his demand were rejected. the father having given his consent, upaka rose up, and was soon married to tsawama, who after due time presented him with a son. it happened that tsawama soon began to dislike her husband, and poured upon him on every occasion all sorts of abuse. unable to bear any longer the unpleasant behaviour of his wife, upaka said to himself, "i have here neither friend nor supporter: i will go to my friend dzina; he will receive me with kindness." hereupon he departed, inquiring everywhere about his friend dzina. at last he arrived at the place where buddha was staying with his disciples. some of them, hearing upaka inquiring with a loud voice about his friend dzina, took him into the presence of buddha, who, understanding at once the sad and painful state of the old man, kindly asked what he wanted. upaka replied that he desired to become a samanay under his direction. buddha, to try his disposition, said to him, "you are too old, upaka, to enter upon the course of the severe life of a samanay, and conform to the enjoined practices." but the latter renewing his entreaties, he was admitted among the members of the assembly. he became an anagam, died and migrated to one of the seats of brahmas. after a short stay up there, he obtained the deliverance. his son was thoobadda, who became afterwards an illustrious convert. buddha continued his way towards baranathee, and soon reached the solitude of migadawon, a little distant from baranathee, and went to the place where lived the five unbelieving rahans. when they saw him coming at a distance, they said to each other, "the rahan gaudama is in search after disciples; he has just performed penitential deeds, and he is looking out for alms and clothes. let us pay no respect to him in the way of going out to meet him, of receiving the tsiwaran from his hands, of presenting him water to wash his feet and preparing a place to sit on; let him sit wherever he pleases." such was the plan they concerted among themselves. but when buddha drew near, they could adhere no longer to their resolution. they rose up and went out to welcome his arrival. one took the tsiwaran from his hands, another the patta, a third one brought water for the washing of the feet, and a fourth one prepared a becoming place to rest. buddha sat in the place that had been prepared for him. they called him by the name of gaudama and other appellations, usually bestowed on ordinary rahans. buddha meekly replied to them, "do not call me any longer by the name of gaudama, or any other title bestowed on an ascetic. i have become a rahanda; i alone am acquainted with the four fundamental truths. now i am come to preach to you the true law. listen, o rahans, to my words; i will lead you to the true state of neibban. my law will make you acquainted not only with the truths to be known, but at the same time point out to you the duties you have to perform, in order to obtain the state of arahat. there are four ways leading to perfection. he who steadily follows them will enjoy the rewards and merits gained by his exertions. in that position he will see distinctly his own self; the light of neibban will break forth upon him. but in order to obtain the great results i set forth before you, he must forsake his house and the world, and become a rahan." the unbelieving rahans persisted in not acknowledging him as a buddha, and reproached him with going about in search of disciples and in quest of alms. the same preaching was repeated by buddha, and the same answer was returned by his incredulous hearers. at last buddha, assuming a lofty and commanding tone, said to them, "i declare unto you that i am a buddha, knowing the four great truths and showing the way to neibban." the hitherto unbelieving ascetics humbled themselves, and declared their belief in him and in all that he had taught. from that moment they entered on the four ways of perfection. the day was that of the full moon of watso. the preaching began at the moment when half the disc of the sun was visible on the western horizon, and half that of the moon was above the eastern horizon. when completed, the sun had just disappeared, and the moon's entire globe was visible on the horizon. the five first converts were named kautagnya, baddiha, wappa, mahanan, and asadzi. the nats, guardians of the country of baranathee[ ] and migadawon, hearing the sublime instructions delivered by buddha on this occasion, cried aloud, "the law which the most excellent buddha preaches is such as no man, pounha or brahma, can teach." their united voices were heard in the lowest seat of nats; the inhabitants of that seat, catching their words, repeated them, and they were heard by those of the next seat, and so on, until they reached the seats of brahmas, and were re-echoed through , worlds. a mighty commotion was felt all over these worlds. the five at first unbelieving, but now believing rahans obtained the perfection of thautapati. buddha often repeated to those that approached him, "come to me; i preach a doctrine which leads to the deliverance from all the miseries attending existence." on that day, being the full moon of watso, eighteen koodes ( , , , ) of nats and brahmas who had heard his preachings obtained the deliverance. the conversation of those five rahans exhibited to the world the splendid and wonderful sight of six rahandas assembled in the same place. at that time, whilst buddha was in the migadawon grove, the memorable conversion of a young layman took place. there was in the country of baranathee the son of a rich man, named ratha. he was of very gentle and amiable disposition. his father had built for him three palaces for each season of the year. a crowd of young damsels, skilful in the art of playing on all sorts of musical instruments, attended him in each of those palaces. ratha spent his time in the midst of pleasure and amusements. on a certain day, while surrounded with female dancers and singers, he fell into a deep sleep. the musicians, following his example, laid aside their instruments, and fell asleep too. the lamps, filled with oil, continued to pour a flood of light throughout the apartments. awaking sooner than usual, ratha saw the musicians all asleep round him in various and unseemly situations. some slept with wide-opened mouths, some had dishevelled hair, some were snoring aloud, some had their instruments lying on themselves, and others by their sides. the whole exhibited a vast scene of the greatest confusion and disorder. sitting on his couch in a cross-legged position, the young man silently gazed with amazement and disgust over the unseemly spectacle displayed before him; then he said to himself, "the nature and condition of the body constitute indeed a truly heavy burden; that coarser part of our being affords a great deal of trouble and affliction." whereupon he instantly arose from his couch, put on his gilt slippers, and came down to the door of his apartment. the nats, who kept a vigilant watch, lest any one should oppose him in the execution of his holy purpose, kept open the door of the house, as well as the gate of the city. ratha, free from all impediments, directed his steps towards the solitude of migadawon. at that time buddha, who had left his sleeping place at a very early hour, was walking in front of the house. he saw at a distance a young man coming in the direction he was in. he instantly stopped his pacing, and going into his own apartment, sat as usual on his seat, awaiting the arrival of the young stranger, who soon made his appearance and stated modestly the object of his visit. buddha said to him, "o ratha! the law of neibban is the only true one: alone it is never attended with misery and affliction. o ratha! come nearer to me; remain in this place; to you i will make known the most perfect and valuable law." on hearing these kind and inviting expressions, ratha felt his heart overflow with the purest joy. he instantly put off his slippers, drew nearer to buddha, bowed down three times before him, withdrew then to a becoming distance, and remained in a respectful attitude. buddha began to preach the law, unfolding successively the various merits obtained by alms-giving, by a strict performance of all duties and practices of the law, and, above all, by renouncing the pleasures of this world. during all the while the heart of the young visitor expanded in a wonderful manner: he felt the ties that hitherto had bound him as it were to the world gradually relaxing and giving way before the unresisting influence of buddha's words. the good dispositions of the young hearer were soon remarked by buddha, who went on explaining all that related to the miseries attending existence, the passions tyrannising over the soul, the means wherewith to become exempt from those passions, and the great ways leading to perfection. after having listened to that series of instructions, ratha, like a white cloth that easily retains the impressions of various colours printed upon it, felt himself freed from all passions, and reached at once the state of thautapati. ratha's mother, not meeting her son early, went up as usual to his apartment, and, to her great surprise, found him gone; moreover she observed unmistakable marks of his sudden and unexpected departure. she ran forthwith to her husband, and announced to him the sad tidings. on hearing of such an unlooked-for event, the father sent messengers in the direction of the four points of the compass, with positive orders to search incessantly after his son, and leave no means of inquiry untried. as to himself he resolved to go to the solitude of migadawon, in the hope of finding out some track of his son's escape. he had scarcely travelled a limited distance, when he observed on the ground the marks of his son's footsteps. he followed them up, and soon came in sight of buddha's resting-place. ratha was at the time listening with deepest attention to all the words of his great teacher. by the power of buddha he remained hidden from the eyes of his father, who came up, and, having paid his respects to gaudama, eagerly asked him if he had not seen his son. gaudama bade him sit down and rest after the fatigue of his journey. meanwhile he assured him that he would soon see his son. rejoiced at such an assurance, ratha's father complied with the invitation he had received. buddha announced his law to this distinguished hearer, and soon led him to the perfection of thautapati. filled with joy and gratitude, the new convert exclaimed, "o illustrious phra, your doctrine is a most excellent one; when you preach it, you do like him who replaces on its basis an upset cup; like him, too, who brings to light precious things, which had hitherto remained in darkness; like him who points out the right way to those that have lost it; who kindles a brilliant light in the middle of darkness; who opens the mind's eyes that they might see the pure truth. henceforth i adhere to you and to your holy law; please to reckon me as one of your disciples and supporters." this was the first layman that became a disciple of gaudama, in the capacity of upasaka.[ ] whilst buddha was busily engaged in imparting instruction to ratha's father, the young man had entered into a deep and solemn meditation over some of the highest maxims he had heard from his great teacher. he was calmly surveying, as it were, all the things of this world; the more he progressed in that great work, the more he felt there was in himself no affection whatever for anything. he had not yet become a rahan, nor put on the rahan's dress. phra, who attentively watched all the movements of his pupil's mind, concluded from his present dispositions that there could be no fear of his ever returning into the world of passions. he suddenly caused by his mighty power the son to become visible to his father's eyes. the father, perceiving on a sudden his son sitting close by him, said, "beloved son, your mother is now bathed in tears, and almost sinking under the weight of affliction caused by your sudden departure; come now to her, and by your presence restore her to life, and infuse into her desolated soul some consolation." ratha, calm and unmoved, made no reply, but cast a look at his master. buddha, addressing ratha's father, said to him, "what will you have to state in reply to what i am about to tell you? your son knows what you know; he sees what you see; his heart is entirely disentangled from all attachment to worldly objects; passions are dead in him. who will now ever presume to say that he ought to subject himself again to them and bend his neck under their baneful influence?" "i have spoken rashly," replied the father; "let my son continue to enjoy the favour of your society; let him remain with you for ever and become your disciple. the only favour i request for myself is to have the satisfaction of receiving you in my house with my son attending you, and there to enjoy the happiness of supplying you with your food." buddha by his silence assented to his request. no sooner had his father departed than ratha applied for the dignity of rahan, which was forthwith conferred upon him. at that time there were in the world seven rahandas. on the following morning, gaudama, putting on his yellow tsiwaran, and carrying the patta under his arm, attended by the rahan ratha, sallied from his house, and went, according to his promise, to the place of ratha's father, to receive his food. he had scarce entered the house and occupied the seat prepared for him, when the mother of the new rahan and she who was formerly his wife came both to pay him their respects. buddha preached to them the law, explaining in particular the three[ ] principal observances becoming their sex and condition. the effect of the preaching was immediate and irresistible: they became exempt from all sins, and attained the state of the perfect, of thautapati, and became, among the persons of their sex, the first upasakas. they desired to be ranked among his disciples, and devoted themselves to his service. they were the first persons of their sex who took refuge in the three precious things, buddha, his law, and the assembly of the perfect. gaudama and his faithful attendant, having eaten the excellent and savoury food prepared for them, departed from the house and returned to the monastery. four young men[ ] belonging to the most illustrious families of baranathee, and formerly connected with ratha by the ties of intimate friendship, having heard that their friend had shaved his head and beard, had put on a yellow dress and become a rahan, said among themselves: "our friend has withdrawn from the society of men, given up all pleasures, and has entered into the society of rahans. there can be no doubt but the law of wini[ ] is most excellent and sublime, and the profession of rahan most perfect." whereupon they came to the place their friend resided in, prostrated themselves before him, as usual in such circumstances, and sat down at a respectful and becoming distance. ratha took them before buddha, praying him to deliver to those who had been his friends in the world the same instructions he had received from him. gaudama willingly assented to his request, and forthwith began to explain to them the nature and abundance of merits derived from alms-giving. he initiated them into the knowledge of the chief precepts and observances of the law. these young hearers received with a cheerful heart his instructions, and felt within themselves an unknown power, dissolving gradually all the ties that had hitherto retained them in the world of passions. delighted at remarking so good dispositions in those young men, gaudama explained to them the higher doctrine of the four great and fundamental truths which lead to perfection.[ ] when the preaching was over, they applied for and obtained the dignity of rahans. there were at that time eleven rahandas in the whole world. fifty other young men of good descent, who had been the companions of ratha while in the world, having heard that their friend had left the world, had put on the yellow garb and become rahan, said to each other: "the law which our friend listened to may not be a bad one; the profession he has entered into may not be as despicable as many people are wont to assert." they resolved to judge for themselves and to be eye-witnesses to all that had been said on the subject. they set out for the monastery ratha was living in, came into his presence, paid their respects to him, and stopped at a proper distance in a respectful posture. hatha led them to his great teacher, humbly craving for his former friends the same favour he had done to him. buddha graciously assented to the request, and imparted instruction to his young hearers, with such a happy result that they instantly applied for admittance to the dignity of rahans. this favour was granted to them. the total number of rahandas was thereby raised to sixty-one. on a certain day, gaudama called his disciples into his presence,[ ] and said to them: "beloved rahans, i am exempt from the five great passions which, like an immense net, encompass men and nats. you too, owing to the instructions you have received from me, enjoy the same glorious privilege. there is now incumbent on us a great duty, that of labouring effectually in behalf of men and nats, and procuring to them the invaluable blessing of the deliverance. to the end of securing more effectually the success of such an undertaking, let us part with each other and proceed in various and opposite directions, so that not two of us should follow up the same way. go ye now and preach the most excellent law, expounding every point thereof, and unfolding it with care and attention in all its bearings and particulars. explain the beginning, the middle, and the end of the law to all men, without exception; let everything respecting it be made publicly known and brought to the broad daylight. show now to men and nats the way leading to the practice of pure and meritorious works. you will meet, doubtless, with a great number of mortals, not as yet hopelessly given up to their passions, and who will avail themselves of your preaching for reconquering their hitherto forfeited liberty, and freeing themselves from the thraldom of passions. for my own part, i will direct my course towards the village of thena situated in the vicinity of the solitude of ooroowela." at that time the wicked nat manh came into the presence of buddha, and tempted him in the following manner: "men and nats," said he, "have the five senses; through those five senses passions act upon them, encompass their whole being, and finally keep them bound up with the chains of an unresistible slavery. as to you, rahan, you are not an exception to that universal condition, and you have not yet outstepped the boundaries of my empire." phra replied: "o vile and wretched nat! i am well acquainted with the passions men and nats are subjected to. but i have freed myself from them all, and have thereby placed myself without the pale of your empire; you are at last vanquished and conquered." manh, yet undismayed, replied: "o rahan, you may be possessed of the power of flying through the air; but even in that condition, those passions which are inherent in the nature of mortal beings will accompany you, so that you cannot flatter yourself of living without the boundaries of my empire." phra retorted: "o wicked nat, concupiscence and all other passions i have stifled to death in me so that you are at last conquered." manh, the most wretched among the wretched, was compelled to confess with a broken heart that phra had conquered him, and he instantly vanished away. full of fervour in preaching the law, the rahans saw themselves surrounded with crowds of converts, who asked for the dignity of rahan. they poured in daily from all parts, into the presence of buddha to receive at his hands the much-longed-for high dignity.[ ] buddha said to them, "beloved rahans, it is painful and troublesome both to you and to those who desire to be admitted into our holy brotherhood to come from such a great distance to me. i now give to you the power of conferring the dignity of patzin and rahan on those whom you may deem worthy to receive it. this is the summary way you will have to follow on such occasions. every candidate shall have his hair and beard shaved, and shall be provided with the tsiwaran of yellow colour. these preliminaries being arranged, the candidate, with the extremities of the kowot thrown over his shoulders, shall place himself in a squatting position, his joined hands raised to the forehead, repeating three times, 'i adhere to buddha, to the law, and to the assembly of the perfect.'" gaudama, assembling again round him the rahans, said to them, "beloved rahans, it is owing to my wisdom, aided by constant reflection and meditation, that i have at last reached the incomparable state of arahatapho; endeavour all of you to follow my example, and arrive at last at the same state of excellence and perfection." the vile and wretched nat manh appeared again before buddha, striving to tempt him in the same manner as before. buddha, discovering the snares laid down by the tempter, returned the same reply. finding himself discovered, manh vanished from his presence. having spent his first lent[ ] in the solitude of migadawon, phra shaped his course in the direction of the forest of ooroowela. on his way to that place he stopped for a while in a jungle, and sat under a tree, to enjoy some rest under its cool shade. at that time thirty young noblemen had come to the jungle to indulge in sports and diversions. each of them had brought his wife, with the exception of one, who, having no wife, was accompanied by a harlot. during the night the harlot rose up unperceived, picked up the best articles belonging to the parties, and carrying them with her, took to her heels through the dense forest. in the morning the thirty young noblemen, rising up, soon perceived the havoc made in the richest articles of their dress, and set out in search of her who they suspected had done the mischief. they came by chance to the spot where gaudama was sitting in a cross-legged position, and inquired from him whether he had seen a woman passing by. buddha said to them, "which, in your opinion, is the best and most advantageous thing, either to go in search of yourselves or in search of a woman?" they replied, "of course it is preferable to look after ourselves." "if so," replied buddha, "stay with me for a while; i will preach my law to you, and, with its help, you will arrive at the knowledge of self, and thence at perfection." they cheerfully assented to his request, listened attentively to his instructions, and obtained the state of perfect believers, but in various degrees, according to their respective dispositions. they gave up the habit of drunkenness they had hitherto indulged in, and persevered in the observance of the five great precepts. [it is to be remarked, adds the burmese translator, that this happy result was secured to the fortunate hearers by the influence of good works made during former existences.[ ]] gaudama, having so happily completed the conversion of those young noblemen, rose up and continued his journey in the direction of the forest of ooroowela. at that time there were three distinguished and far-famed teachers who presided over a vast number of rathees or disciples leading an ascetic life. they were named ooroowela kathaba, nadi kathaba, and gaya kathaba. the first had under him five hundred disciples, the second three hundred, and the third two hundred. buddha went up to the monastery of ooroowela kathaba, and said to him, "i carry but a few articles with me, and need but a small place to rest in; i beg of you to be allowed to spend the night only in your kitchen." kathaba answered: "since you have so few things with you, i willingly allow you to accommodate yourself in the best way you can in the cook-room; but i must inform you that the naga guardian of the place is an animal of a very wicked temper, powerfully strong, and having a most deadly venom." "i fear not the naga," replied buddha; "i am well satisfied with your allowing me a place in the cook-room." whereupon he entered into the kitchen, sat down in a cross-legged position, and, keeping his body in an erect posture, remained absorbed, as it were, in the deepest contemplation. the naga soon appeared, and irritated at seeing that a stranger presumed to remain in a place committed to his care, resolved to drive out the intruder. he began to vomit a cloud of smoke which he directed at the face of the stranger. buddha said to himself, "i will do no harm to that naga; i will leave intact his skin, flesh, and bones; but i will conquer him with the very same weapons he uses against me." whereupon he emitted by his own power such a volume of thick smoke as soon to silence his adversary, and oblige him to have recourse to more effectual means of attack. he vomited out burning flames. phra opposed flames far more active and destructive than those of the naga. they shone forth with such an uncommon brightness as to attract a number of rathees, who stood motionless, admiring the beautiful countenance of buddha, and wondering at his matchless power. the naga, vanquished, gave up the contest, and left to buddha the undisputed possession of the cook-room during the whole night. in the morning opening his patta, phra thrust in the terrified naga, and brought it to ooroowela kathaba, who, surprised at the power of the stranger, said, "this rahanda cannot as yet be compared to me." he desired him to stay in his monastery, promising to supply him with food as long as he should be with him. phra accepted the proffered invitation, and fixed his residence in the midst of a grove little distant from the cell of kathaba. whilst he was there, four chiefs of nats of the seat of tsadoomarit came at midnight to the spot where rested phra. they were very handsome, and a bright hue, encompassing their bodies, filled the grove with a resplendent light. kathaba, surprised, came to buddha, and said to him, "great rahan, the hour of taking your food is at hand; your rice is ready, come and eat it. how is it that at midnight there was such an uncommon splendour? one would have thought that the whole forest in the neighbourhood was lined with immense fires, spreading a blaze of light." phra answering said, "this wonder was caused by the presence of four chiefs of nats that came to visit me and hear my preachings." kathaba said to himself, "great indeed must be the virtue of this rahan, since nats come to see him and acknowledge him for their teacher. he is not yet, however, my equal." buddha ate his rice, and went back to the same place. on another occasion, in the middle of the night, the chief of thagias came to the grove of buddha, and by his power caused a flood of light similar to that produced by a thousand lighted fires to pour its effulgent rays in every direction. in the morning, kathaba went to the great rahan inviting him to come and eat his rice. meanwhile he asked him the reason of the wonderful light that had been kept up about from midnight until morning, which surpassed in brilliancy that which had been seen on a former occasion. phra told him that he had been visited by the chief of thagias, who came for the purpose of hearing his instructions. kathaba thought within himself: "great indeed is the glory and dignity of this rahan, but he is not as yet a rahanda." phra ate his food, and continued to stay in the same grove. on another occasion, at the same late hour, phra received the visit of the chief of the brahmas. the flood of light that was sent forth by his body surpassed in effulgent splendour all that had been seen. kathaba came as usual, in the morning, to invite the great rahan to come and take his food, requesting him at the same time to inform him of the cause of the great wonder that had just taken place. phra told him that the chief of brahmas had waited upon him to listen to his preachings. kathaba wondered the more at the dignity of this great rahan, who attracted round him so eminent a visitor. but he said within himself: "this rahan is not yet a rahanda that can be compared to me." phra partook of his food, and continued his stay in the same grove. on a certain day, the people of the country had prepared offerings on a large scale to be presented to kathaba. on hearing this welcome news, the rathee thought within himself as follows: "the people are disposing everything to make large offerings to me. it is as well this rahan should not be present on the occasion. he might make a display of his power in the presence of the multitude, who, taken up with admiration for his person, would make great offerings to him, whilst i should see my own decrease in a proportion. to-morrow i will contrive in such a way as to prevent the great rahan from being present." buddha discovered at a glance all that was going on in kathaba's mind. unwilling to offer any annoyance to his host, he conveyed himself to the island of ootoogara, where he collected his meal, which he came to eat on the banks of the lake anawadat. he spent the whole day there, and by his miraculous power he was back to his grove at an early hour on the following day. the rathee came as usual, to invite him to partake of his meal that was ready, and inquired from him why he had not made his appearance on the day previous. buddha, without the least emotion that could betray an angry feeling, related to kathaba all that had passed in his mind, and informed him of the place he had been to. kathaba, astonished at what he heard, said to himself: "the knowledge of this rahan is transcendent indeed, since he is even acquainted with the thoughts of my mind; his power too is wonderfully great; but withal, he is not as yet a rahanda comparable to me." buddha, having eaten his meal, withdrew to his grove. on a certain day buddha wished to wash his dress. a thagia, knowing the thought that occupied his mind, dug a small square tank, and approaching him respectfully, invited him to wash his tsiwaran therein. buddha then thought: where shall i find a stone to rub it upon? the thagia, having brought a stone, said to him: "illustrious phra, here is a stone to rub your tsiwaran on." he thought again: where is a proper place to dry it upon? the nat that watched the tree yekada caused it to bend its branches, and said: "my lord, here is a fit place to hang up your tsiwaran." he thought again: where is a fit spot to extend my clothes upon? the chief of thagias brought a large and well-polished stone, and said: "o illustrious phra, here is a fit place to lay your tsiwaran upon." in the morning, kathaba repaired as usual to his guest's place, to invite him to take his meal. surprised at what he perceived, he said to buddha: "o rahan, formerly there were here neither tank nor stone; how is it that they are here now? how is it, moreover, that the tree yekadat is now bending down its branches?" phra related then to the rathee all that had happened, informing him that the chief of thagias and one nat had done all those works for him, and ministered to all his wants. kathaba wondered more than before at the great virtue and surpassing excellency of the great rahan; but he persisted in his former opinion, that the great rahan was not a rahanda that could equal him. buddha, having taken his meal, returned to his grove. on another occasion, the rathee went to buddha's place, to invite him to come and partake of his meal. "very well," said buddha, "i have a small business to do now; go beforehand, and i will follow you a few moments hence." whereupon kathaba went back to his cell. as to phra, he went to pluck a fruit from the jambu tree, and arrived at the eating place before kathaba could reach it. the rathee, on arriving there, was quite surprised to find phra already waiting for him. "how is this?" said he, with an unfeigned feeling of surprise, "and by what way did you come and contrive to arrive here before me?" phra said to him: "after your departure, i plucked one fruit from a jambu tree, and yet i have reached this spot sooner than you. here is the fruit i have brought. it is as full of flavour as it is beautiful; allow me to present you with it, that you may eat it." "o! no, great rahan," replied the rathee, "it is not becoming that i should eat it, but rather keep it for yourself." he thought within himself: "wonderful is indeed the power and eminent excellency of that great rahan; but he is not as yet a rahan that can be ranked to me." phra ate his rice, and returned to his grove. on another day, phra gave a fresh proof of his miraculous power, by bringing to kathaba a mango fruit, plucked from a mango tree growing near the jambu tree, and so went on for several days, bringing fruits that grew at the extremity of the southern island. on another day, phra ascended to the seat of tawadeintha, and brought therefrom a beautiful water-lily, and yet arrived at the place where his meal was ready before kathaba himself. the latter, quite amazed at seeing a flower from the nat country, thought within himself: "wonderful, indeed, is the power of that great rahan, who has brought here, from the seats of nats, a beautiful lily in such a short space of time; but he is not as yet equal to me." on a certain day, the rathees were busy splitting firewood. they got a large log of wood upon which their united efforts could make no impression. kathaba thought within himself: "the great rahan is gifted with mighty power; let us try him on this occasion." he desired gaudama to split the hard log. gaudama split it in a moment in five hundred pieces. the rathees then tried to light up the fuel, but they could not succeed. kathaba requested his guest to come to their assistance. in an instant, the five hundred pieces were set in a blaze, and presented the terrifying sight of five hundred large fires. the rathees begged the great rahan to extinguish those fires which threatened a general conflagration. their request was instantaneously granted; the five hundred fires were extinguished. during the cold season in the months of january and february, when a heavy cold dew falls, the rathees amused themselves with plunging and swimming in the river neritzara. phra caused five hundred fires to blaze out on the banks of the river. the rathees, coming out of the stream, warmed themselves by the side of those fires. they all wondered at the astonishing power of the great rahan. but kathaba persisted in saying that he was not a rahanda like him. on a certain day, a great rain poured in torrents, so that the water overflowed all the country, but it did not reach the spot gaudama stood upon. he thought within himself: it is good that i should create a beautiful dry road in the midst of the water. he did so, and walked on the dry road, and clouds of dust rose in the air. kathaba, much concerned regarding the fate of his guest, took a boat, and, with the assistance of his disciples, pulled in the direction of buddha's grove; but what was their surprise, when reaching the spot they found, instead of water, a firm dry road, and buddha calmly walking to and fro. "is it you, great rahan," cried kathaba, "whom we see here?" "yes," replied gaudama, "it is i indeed." he had scarcely returned this answer, when he rose in the air and stood for a while above the boat. kathaba thought again within himself: "great indeed must be the perfections and attainments of the great rahan, since water even cannot harm him, but he is not yet a rahanda like me." phra, who knew what was taking place in kathaba's mind, said to himself: long time has this rathee kept thinking within himself: this rahan is great, but i am still greater than he; it is time now that i should inspire him with fear and surprise. addressing kathaba, he said: "rathee, you are not a rahanda that has arrived to the perfection of arahat; you have never performed the meritorious actions of the four ways to perfection; you are not, therefore, a rahanda. but i have, during former existences, carefully attended to those practices which have enabled me to reach perfection, and finally obtain the buddhaship." astonished at such an unexpected declaration, kathaba humbled himself, fell on his knees, and prostrated himself at the feet of buddha, saying: "illustrious phra, i wish to become rahan under your direction." phra replied: "kathaba, you have under you five hundred rathees, go and inform them of all that has happened." whereupon kathaba went to the place where the rathees had assembled, and said to them: "i wish to place myself under the direction of the great rahan." the five hundred rathees told him that they were willing to follow his example, since he had been hitherto to them such an excellent teacher. they rose up, and, collecting their utensils, such as the twisted hairs, and forked staff, the hairy girdle, the honey filtre, &c., flung them into the river; then they came, and, prostrating themselves at the feet of buddha, craved admittance to the dignity of rahans. nadi kathaba, seeing the utensils floating on the water and carried down by the stream, called his followers and said to them: "some misfortune must have befallen my elder brother; let us go and see what has happened." they were no sooner arrived, than kathaba related to them all that had just taken place. nadi kathaba went forthwith to buddha's cell, attended all his disciples. falling all at the feet of phra, they declared their readiness to become his disciples, and applied for the dignity of rahan. gaya kathaba, who lived a little below the place of nadi kathaba, seeing on the surface of the water the utensils of the followers of both his brothers floating in the direction of the stream, hastened, with his two hundred disciples, to the place of ooroowela kathaba. on his being informed of all that had occurred, he and his followers threw themselves at gaudama's feet, praying for admittance into the order of rahans. they were all admitted. the conversion of ooroowela kathaba was brought about by the display, on the part of buddha, of no less than three thousand five hundred and sixty wonders.[ ] footnotes [ ] i have, except on one occasion, always made use of the terms meditation and contemplation to express the inward working of buddha's mind during the forty-nine days he spent at the foot of the banyan tree. but the burmese translator most commonly employs a much stronger expression, conveying the idea of trance and ecstasy. hence after having remained seven days on the same spot, deeply engaged in considering some parts of the law he was soon to preach, it is said of him that he comes out from a state of perfect ecstasy. this expression implies a state of complete mental abstraction, when the soul, disentangled from the trammels of sense, raises itself above this material world, contemplates pure truth and delights in it. all her faculties are taken up with the beauty and perfection of truth; she clings to it with all her might, regardless of all the illusions this world is filled with. this situation of the soul is much esteemed by all fervent buddhists. it is the lot of but a few privileged rahans, who have made great progress in perfection, and obtained an almost entire mastery over their passions and senses. this great gift is, as one may well imagine, ardently coveted by many, who, though not possessing it, lay claim to it on false pretences. this being a sin devotees who relish a contemplative life are very liable to, which the framer of the regulations of the buddhist monks has pronounced as _ipso facto_ excluding from the society all those who would falsely claim the possession of uncommon spiritual attainments which they have not. in the book of ordination used for the admission of candidates to the order of rahans or talapoins, this sin is the last of the four offences which deprive a member of the order of his dignity, and cause his expulsion from the society. [ ] the five rahans alluded to are the very same individuals who met phralaong in the solitude at the time he was undergoing a great fast and performing all sorts of works of self-denial and corporal austerities in the most rigorous manner. during all the time he spent in those hard exercises of strict mortification, to conquer his passions and secure the complete triumph of the mind over the senses, he was assisted in all his wants by those five rahans, who rendered to him the usual services disciples are wont to perform to their teacher. when they saw phralaong at the end of his mighty efforts in that great struggle resuming the habits of a mendicant, they left him at once, unwilling to believe that he would ever become a buddha. our phra, not unmindful of the good services he had received from them, resolved to impart first to them the blessings of his preachings. alara and oodaka, his two first teachers in the science of dzan, were destined to be the first who would have heard the good news had they not been dead. gratitude seems to have been the first and main motive that induced him to select as the first objects of his mission the very same persons who had been instrumental in furthering his efforts to acquire the buddhaship. the unpleasant epithet of heretic is given to those five rahans, as well as to another named upaka, as designed to mean that they held tenets at variance with those of buddha, and refused to acknowledge him as possessed of the perfect intelligence. buddhists, in their writings, invariably call their opponents by the name of holders of false doctrines. the brahmins or pounhas who refused to seek refuge in buddha, his law, and the assembly of his disciples, are spoken of as professors of heterodoxical doctrines. from the narrative of this legend we may conclude, with a probability amounting almost to certitude, that buddha in his preachings addressed himself first to the brahmins, as being by their caste the most influential portion of the hindu community. those that are called by the name of pounhas are the brahmins living in the world and following the ordinary pursuits of life. those that are mentioned by the names of rahans and rathees are probably brahmins, or at least belong to some other distinguished caste like that of the kchatrias, but are members of some religious order or ascetics. they were in those days men whom, in imitation of the ancient greeks, we may call philosophers, and who belonged to one or other of the branches into which the great indian school was divided. we may conjecture that at that time india exhibited a scene much resembling that which greece subsequently offered to the eyes of the observer in the days of socrates and plato, when schools of philosophy were to be met with in every direction. the hindu philosophers, favoured by climate and their ardent imagination, carried much further than the greek wise men, both in theory and practice, the discussion of dogmas and the fervour of religious practices. if credit is to be given to our legend in a historical point of view, we may safely conclude that such was the state of india when buddha began his preachings. his first hearers were rahans, rathees, and pounhas, that is to say, the most learned and wisest men in those days. the latter in particular seemed at first disinclined to offer opposition to buddha; they listened to him as to a distinguished philosopher; his arguments were examined, discussed, and answered by them in the best way they could. in that polemical warfare, arguments were at first the only offensive and defensive weapons used and handled by the combatants on both sides. buddha's two favourite doctrines of atheism and neibban, which established the two broad lines of separation between the two systems, begat much discussion and created some animosity between him and his adversaries. but what widened the gap between the two parties, and placed them in a hostile array against each other, was the broad principle of equality amongst men, latent in the bosom of buddha's doctrines, and levelled at the distinction of castes. buddha preached to men of all conditions without exception; he opened before all the ways that lead to neibban; made no distinction between man and man, except that which is drawn by virtue and vice, merits and demerits. he allowed every one to approach him and take rank among his disciples; faith in his doctrine entitled any man to be numbered amidst his followers; the entrance into the order of rahans or perfect was open to all those who, by their meritorious actions and renouncing the world, qualified themselves for this dignity. this principle, which put on a footing of equality men of all castes and nations, and recognised no real superiority but that which is conferred by virtue and merit, could not prove agreeable to the proud brahmins. it provoked, by its gradual development, the animosity of the opponents of buddha's doctrines. the battle of arguments, after having raged with various success, was afterwards converted into one of a bloody character, which ended in the total extermination or expulsion of the buddhists from the indian peninsula. [ ] the mission of buddha is not, as previously observed, confined to men living on earth, but it extends its beneficial action over all the beings inhabiting the six seats of nats and sixteen of brahmas. those beings, the latter in particular, are much advanced in perfection, but they are not yet ripe for the sublime state of neibban. though freed, at least the brahmas, from the influence of passions, they retain as yet some inclination for matter; they want the help of a buddha to break at once the few slender ties that retain them in the state of existence. the first preaching of buddha was rewarded with the conversion of five rahans, and of a countless number of nats and brahmas. such a plentiful harvest he could scarcely anticipate to reap; and the beginning of his career, attended with such wonderful success, amply repaid him for the extraordinary exertions he made in order to qualify himself for the buddhaship. the author of the legend remarks, with an unfeigned pleasure, that owing to the conversion of the five rahans, the worlds witnessed the beautiful sight of six rahandas congregated on the same spot. the rahanda has attained the summit of perfection; he has arrived at the last existence; his death will relieve him from the burden of existence, and open to him the way leading to perfect rest, to complete abstraction--in a word, to neibban. the rahandas rank first among the disciples and hearers of buddha; they constitute the _élite_ of his followers, and form the most distinguished portion of the assembly or congregation of the perfect. we have already stated that the members composing the assembly of the hearers were divided into distinct sections, and formed different degrees, according to the difference of their respective progress on the way of perfection. [ ] it may be interesting to give an abridgment of an instruction or sermon delivered by gaudama to a nat. it will be as a fair specimen of other similar performances. the nat made his appearance at nightfall, and respectfully entreated buddha to deliver certain instructions which would enable men to come to the understanding of many points of the law on which they had hitherto fruitlessly meditated. buddha was then in the monastery of dzetawon, in the country of thawattie. this sermon is supposed to have been repeated by ananda, who had heard it from the mouth of buddha himself. it is, according to the burmese, the most excellent sermon; it contains thirty-eight points. "young nat," said buddha, "here are the most excellent things men and nats ought to attend to, in order to capacitate themselves for the state of neibban: to shun the company of the foolish; to be always with the wise; to proffer homage to those that are deserving of it; to remain in a place becoming one's condition; to have always with one's self the influence of former good works; steadily to maintain a perfect behaviour; to be delighted to hear and see much, in order to increase knowledge; to study all that is not sinful; to apply one's self to acquire the knowledge of wini. let every one's conversation be regulated by righteous principles; let every one minister to the wants of his father and mother; provide all the necessaries for his wife and children; perform no action under the evil influence of temptation; bestow alms; observe the precepts of the law; assist one's relatives and friends; perform no actions but such as are exempt from sin; be ever diligent in such avoiding, and abstain from intoxicating drink. let no one be remiss in the practice of the law of merits. let every one bear respect to all men; be ever humble; be easily satisfied and content; gratefully acknowledge favours; listen to the preaching of the law in its proper time; be patient; delight in good conversation; visit the religious from time to time; converse on religious subjects; cultivate the virtue of mortification; practise works of virtue; pay attention always to the four great truths; keep the eyes fixed on neibban. finally, let one in the middle of the eight afflictions of this world be, like the rahanda, firm, without disquietude, fearless, with a perfect composure. o young nat, whoever observes these perfect laws shall never be overcome by the enemies of the good: he shall enjoy the peace of ariahs." within a narrow compass, buddha has condensed an abridgment of almost all moral virtues. the first portion of these precepts contains injunctions to shun all that may prove an impediment to the practice of good works. the second part inculcates the necessity of regulating one's mind and intention for a regular discharge of the duties incumbent on each man in his separate station. then follows a recommendation to bestow assistance on parents, relatives, and all men in general. next to that, we find recommended the virtues of humility, resignation, gratitude, and patience. after this, the preacher insists on the necessity of studying the law, visiting religious, conversing on religious subjects. when this is done, the hearer is commanded to study with great attention the four great truths, and keep his mind's eye ever fixed on the happy state of neibban, which, though as yet distant, ought never to be lost sight of. thus prepared, the hearer must be bent upon acquiring the qualifications befitting the true sage. like the one mentioned by the latin poet, who would remain firm, fearless, and unmoved, even in the midst of the ruins of the crumbling universe, the buddhist sage must ever remain calm, composed, and unshaken among all the vicissitudes of life. here is again clearly pointed out the final end to be arrived at, viz., that of perfect mental stability. this state is the foreshadowing of that of neibban. [ ] from the perusal of this legend, it can be remarked that buddha, in the course of his preachings, withheld from no one the knowledge of his doctrine, but, on the contrary, aimed at popularising it in every possible way. in this respect he widely differed from the brahmins, who enveloped their tenets in a mysterious obscurity, and even in that state of semi-incomprehensibility, condescended to offer them to the consideration of but a few selected adepts. but buddha followed quite an opposite course. he preached to all without exception. on this occasion we see him engaged in explaining to the mother and wife of ratha duties truly becoming their sex and position. he warned them against the danger of speaking too much, or speaking hastily and with a tone of dissatisfaction. he desired them to be always cool and moderate in their conversation, and to take a pleasure in conversing on religious topics, such as the practice of the ten great duties, the merits of almsgiving, and on the other precepts of the law. he showed to them the unbecomingness of inconsistency in speaking, and finally concluded by exhorting them to allow wisdom to guide them in the right use of the faculty of speech. every one will agree in this that the lecture was a very appropriate one, and would suit women of our days as well as those of buddha's times. it is not easy to determine whether these two female converts became rahanesses by forsaking the world and devoting all their time to religious observances, or simply believed in buddha's doctrines and continued to live in the world. the burmese translator makes use of expressions liable to both interpretations. i feel inclined to adopt the second supposition. they became female upasakas, and continued to live in the world. we shall see, hereafter, that gaudama's aunt, patzapati, was the first, after much entreating, who was allowed to become a rahaness. the great former of the buddhistic disciplinary regulations has also laid down rules for the institution and management of an order of female devotees, to match, as it were, with that of talapoins. hence in almost all countries where buddhism flourishes, there are to be met houses and monasteries which are the abodes of those pious women, who emulate rahans in the strict observance of practices of the highest order. their dress, except the colour, which is white, is quite similar to that of talapoins; their head is shaved; they live in strict continence as long as they continue to wear the dress of their profession. they have certain formulas of prayer to repeat every day several times. their diet is the same as that of talapoins; they are forbidden to take any food after midday. i am not aware that they render any service to society in the way of keeping schools for the benefit of female children. they live on alms freely bestowed on them by their co-religionists. the burmese honour them with the title of mathi-la-shing, which means ladies of the religious duties. the order of those female devotees is now much on the decline; the inmates of houses are but few, enjoying a very small share of public esteem and respect. they are generally looked upon with feelings akin to those entertained towards beggars. in the wini, or book of discipline, the relations that are allowed to subsist between the two orders of male and female devotees are minutely described and clearly laid down, so as to prevent the evils that might result from a familiar and unnecessary intercourse. thoroughly acquainted with the weakest side of human nature, the author of the wini has legislated on that subject with the utmost circumspection. he allowed rather aged rahans to be the spiritual advisers of the rahanesses, but he denies them the leave of ever going to their houses under any pretext whatever. when the latter want to hear preaching or receive some advice from the rahans, they resort in broad daylight to the monastery, are permitted to stay in a large hall open to the public, at a considerable distance from him whom they desire to consult. having briefly and with becoming reverence made known the object of their visit, and received some spiritual instructions, they immediately return to their own place. the same reflection may be applied to the conversion of ratha's father. it is said that he was the first convert out of the body of laymen. he does not appear to have forsaken the world and become a first-class convert. he became a thautapati, and at once entered one of the four ways leading to perfection, but remained in the world. [ ] the conversion of ratha and of his young friends shows to us distinctly the tendency of buddha's preachings, and their effect over those who believed in him. ratha is represented as a young worldly-minded man, who, in the midst of riches, has denied himself to no kind of pleasure. he feels that the enjoyments he was so fond of can in no manner satisfy the cravings of his heart: he is disgusted at them, and resolves to withdraw into solitude, with the intention of placing himself under the direction of some eminent teacher, and learn from him the way to happiness. he hopes that the study of philosophy will lead him to true wisdom and the acquirement of the means that may render him happy. he luckily falls in with buddha, who explains to him that the senses are the instruments through which passions act upon and tyrannise over the soul, by keeping it in a painful subjection to matter. he points out to him the necessity of freeing himself from their control. this principle of buddhism, which aims at disengaging the soul from matter, isolating it from all that proves a burden to it, and delivering it from the tyrannical yoke of concupiscence, is in itself perfectly correct, but, carried beyond its legitimate consequences, it becomes false and absurd. according to buddhists, the soul, disentangled from all that exists, finds itself alone without any object it can adhere to; folding itself up into its own being, it remains in a state of internal contemplation, destitute alike of all active feelings of pleasure and pain. this doctrine was known in the time of buddha, as far as the principle is concerned. the rathees and other sages in those days upheld it both in theory and practice; but, on the consequences, the originator of buddhism was at issue with his contemporaries, and struck out a new path in the boundless field of speculative philosophy. [ ] the wini is one of the great divisions of buddhistic sacred writings. the pitagat, or collection of all the scriptures, is divided into three parts--the thouts, containing the preachings of buddha, the wini, or book of the discipline, and the abidama, or the book of metaphysics. that compilation is supposed to embody the doctrines of buddha in a complete manner. these books have not been written by buddha himself, since it is said of him that he never wrote down anything. the first buddhistic compositions were certainly written by the disciples of phra, or their immediate successors. but there arose some disputes among the followers of buddha, as to the genuineness of the doctrines contained in the various writings published by the chief disciples. to settle the controversy, an assembly or council of the most influential members of the buddhistic creed, under the presidency of kathaba, was held about three months after gaudama's demise. the writings regarded as spurious were set aside, and those purporting to contain the pure doctrines of phra were collected into one body, and formed, as it were, the canon of sacred books. the matter so far was settled for the time being, but the human mind, when unrestrained by authority, acted in those days with the same result as it does in our own times. various and different were the constructions put on the same text by the expounders of the buddhistic law. all parties admitted the same books, but they dissented from each other in the interpretation. some of the books hitherto regarded as sacred were altered or rejected altogether to make room for the works of new doctors. confusion prevailed to such an extent, that an hundred years later a second council was assembled for determining the authenticity of the real and genuine writings. a new compilation was made and approved of by the assembly. the evil was remedied; but the same causes that had exercised so baneful an influence previously to the time of the second council soon worked again and produced a similar result. two hundred and thirty-five years after gaudama's death a third council was assembled. the books compiled by the second council were revised and apparently much abridged, and with the sanction of the assembled fathers a new canon of scriptures was issued. the pitagat in its present shape is regarded as the work of this last assembly. all the books are written in the pali or magatha language. in the beginning of the fifth century of our era, according to our author's computation, a learned man, named boudagautha, went to ceylon, and brought back to burmah a copy of the collection of the pitagat. then he introduced into this country the alphabet now in use, and translated into the vernacular a portion of the scriptures. this important subject shall receive hereafter fuller development. [ ] the four principles or truths so often alluded to in the course of this work ought to be well understood, in order to get a clear insight into the system under consideration. these four truths are as follows:-- . there are afflictions and miseries attending the existence of all beings. . there are passions and, in particular, concupiscence, which are the causes of all miseries. . there is neibban, which is the exemption of all passions, and, consequently, the deliverance from all miseries. . there are the four ways or high roads leading to neibban. here is the summary of the sublime knowledge and transcendent science possessed by a buddha: these four fundamental truths form the four features or characteristics of his law; they safely guide man in the way to deliverance. the buddhist sage, who longs to become perfect, must study with attention the position of all beings in this world, survey with a patient regard their diversified conditions, and fathom the depth of the abyss of miseries in which they are miserably sunk. a vague, general and superficial knowledge of these miseries is insufficient to create that perfect acquaintance with human wretchedness. he ought to examine one after the other those series of afflictions, until he feels, as it were, their unbearable weight pressing over his soul. this first step having been made by the means of reflection, meditation, and experience, the sage, standing by the side of all miseries that press upon all beings, as a physician, by the bed of a patient, inquires into the cause of such an awful moral disorder. he soon discovers the generating causes of that universal distemper; they are the passions in general; or rather, to speak more in accordance with buddhistic expressions, concupiscence, anger, and ignorance are the springs all demerits flow from, are the impure sources wherefrom originate all the miseries and afflictions this world is filled with. the destruction of those passions is the main and great object he has in view. he, therefore, leaves the world and renounces all pleasures and worldly possessions, in order to extinguish concupiscence; he practises patience under the most trying circumstances, that anger may no longer have any power over him; he studies the law, and meditates on all its points, in order to dispel the dark atmosphere of ignorance by the bright light of knowledge. having advanced so far, the sage has not yet reached the final object of his desires; he has not yet attained to the end he anxiously wishes to come to. he is just prepared and qualified for going in search of it. neibban, or the _absolute_ exemption and _permanent_ deliverance from the four causes productive of existence, or of a state of being, is the only thing he deems worthy to be desired and earnestly longed for. the sage, perceiving such a desirable state, sighs after it with all the powers of his soul. neibban is to him what the harbour is to the storm-beaten mariner, or deliverance to the worn-out inmate of a dark dungeon. but such a happy state is, as yet, at a great distance; where is the road leading thereto? this is the last truth the sage has to investigate. the four roads to perfection are opened before him. these he must follow with perseverance; they will conduct him to neibban. they are a perfect belief, a perfect reflection, a perfect use of speech, and a perfect conduct. [ ] buddha, having trained up his disciples to the knowledge of his doctrines as well as to the practice of his ordinances, elevates them to the dignity of preachers, or, to be more correct, makes them fellow-labourers in the arduous task of imparting to mankind the wholesome knowledge of saving truths. an unbounded field is opened before him; the number of beings who are designed to partake of the blessings of his doctrines is incalculably great. his own efforts will not prove adequate to the difficulties such a mighty undertaking is encompassed with; he joins to himself fervent disciples that have reached all but the farthest limit of perfection by the thorough control they have obtained over their passions; he considers them as instruments well fitted for carrying into execution his benevolent designs, and entrusts them with the mission he has entered upon. by adopting such a step, the wise founder of buddhism establishes a regular order of men, whom he commissions to go and preach to all living creatures the doctrines they have learnt from him. the commission he imparted to them was evidently to be handed down to their successors in the same office. he may now die, but he is sure that the work he has begun shall be carried on with zeal and devotedness by men who have renounced the world and given up all sorts of enjoyments, that they might engage in the great undertaking with a heart perfectly disentangled from all ties and impediments of every description. in entrusting his disciples with the important duty of teaching mankind, buddha, obeying the impulse of his universal charity, desires them to go all over the world and preach all the truth to all mortals. he distinctly charges them to announce openly and unreservedly all that they have heard from him. in these instructions the plan of buddha is clearly laid down, and the features of the mission he assumes distinctly delineated. his object is to spread his doctrines all over the world and to bring all beings under his moral sway. he makes no distinction between man and man, nation and nation. though belonging by birth to a high caste, he disregards at once those worldly barriers whereby men are separated from each other, and acknowledges no dignity but that which is conferred by virtue. bold, indeed, was the step that he took in a country where the distinction of caste is so deeply rooted in the habits of the people, that all human efforts have, hitherto, proved abortive in destroying it. it has already been hinted in a foregoing note that gaudama placed himself on a new ground, in opposition to the brahminical doctrines. he, doubtless, cautiously avoided to wound directly the feelings of his antagonists; but, at the same time, he adroitly sowed the seed of a mighty revolution, that was to change, if left to grow freely, the face of the indian peninsula. his doctrine bore two characteristics, that were to distinguish it essentially from that of his adversaries; it was popular and universal, whereas that of his opponents was wrapped up in a mysterious obscurity, and unfolded completely only to a privileged caste. another great difference between the two systems is this: buddha paid little attention to the dogmatical portion of religion, but laid the greatest stress on morals. the dogmas are few and little insisted on. he aimed at correcting the vices of the heart, but exerted himself little to redress the errors of the mind. [ ] in these new instructions delivered to the rahans, buddha gives them the power of receiving into the ranks of the assembly those of their converts who should prove foremost in understanding the law and observing its highest practices. he empowers them to confer on others the dignity of rahans, and admit them to the various steps that lead to that uppermost one. to observe uniformity in the reception of candidates to the various orders, buddha laid down a number of regulations embodied in the kambawa, or book used as a sort of ritual on the days of admission of candidates to the dignity of patzins and rahans. the contents of this small but interesting work may be seen in the notice on the order of talapoins, or buddhist monks, inserted at the end of this volume. that the reader may have now an idea of the general purpose and object of these regulations, i will sketch a slight outline of them. the candidate, who seeks for admission among the members of the order, has to appear before an assembly of rahans, presided over by a dignitary. he must be provided with the dress of the order, and a patta or the pot of a mendicant. he is presented to the assembly by a rahan, upon whom devolves the important duty of instructing him in all that regards the profession he is about to embrace, and lead him through the ordeal of the ceremony. he is solemnly interrogated before the assembly on the several defects and impediments which incapacitate an individual for admission into the order. on his declaring that he is free from such impediments, he is, with the consent of the assembled fathers, promoted to the rank of patzin. but before he is allowed to take his place among his brethren, he is instructed in the four principal duties he will have to observe, and warned against the four capital sins, the commission of which would deprive him of his high and holy character, and cause his expulsion from the society. it is supposed that the candidate, previous to his making application for obtaining the dignity of rahan, has qualified himself by study and a good life for admittance among the perfect. by surrounding the admission of candidates into the ranks of the order with a display of ceremonies, the shrewd framer of these regulations intended to encircle the whole body with a halo of dignity and sacredness, and at the same time to provide, as far as human wisdom allows, against the reception of unworthy postulants. hitherto buddha had reserved to himself alone the power of elevating hearers or converts to the dignity of rahans; now he transfers to his disciples that power and bids them use it as they had seen him do, in behalf of those whom they deem worthy applicants. he has established a society, and striven to infuse into it all the elements necessary for keeping it up hereafter, and securing its existence and permanency. he sets up a kind of ecclesiastical hierarchy, which is to be perpetuated during the ages to come by the same means and power that brought it into existence. having put such a power into the hands of his disciples, buddha very properly exhorts them to emulate him in his efforts to become perfect. he sets himself as a pattern of perfection, and bids them all imitate the examples he places before them. he shows briefly to them by what means he has attained the state of arahatapho, and stimulates them to the adopting of similar means. the word arahatapho is composed of two words--arahat, which means perfect, and pho or phola, as the orthography indicates, which means reward, merit. the state of arahatapho is that in which a man enjoys the merits or reward of perfection, which he has reached by the practice of virtue, and particularly the acquirement of wisdom or knowledge of the highest points of the law. it is used often in opposition to the word arahatamegata, which signifies the ways or roads leading to perfection. [ ] i have translated by _lent_ the burmese expression watso, which is but the pali term wasa, burmanised. the word "lent," which has been adopted, is designed to express not the real meaning of wasa, but to convey to the reader's mind the idea of a time devoted to religious observances. wasa means a season, but it is intended to designate the rainy season, which in those parts of the peninsula where buddha was residing begins in july and ends in november. during that period the communications between villages and towns are difficult, if not impossible. the religious mendicants were allowed in former times, very likely from the very days of buddha, to retire into the houses of friends and supporters, from which they went forth occasionally begging their food. in the beginning, those who were admitted in the society did not live in community, as was afterwards done in those countries where buddhism has been of a long time in a flourishing condition. they were allowed to withdraw into solitude, and lead an ascetic life, or to travel from one place to another to preach the law and make converts. this work could not be well done during the rainy season. hence the disciples, while as yet few in number, gathered round their master during that period to hear instructions from him, and practise virtue under his immediate superintendence. they lived with him during all the time the rainy season lasted. this was called to spend the season. in the course of this legend, the same expression is often met with. it is said of buddha that he spent a season in such a place, another in another place, to indicate that he stayed in one place during the rainy season, which precluded the possibility of doing the duties of an itinerant preacher. when the religious order became regularly constituted, and the basis it was to stand on was fairly laid down, the ever-increasing number of members made them feel the want of secluded places where they could live in community, and at the same time quite retired from the world. houses or monasteries were erected for receiving the pious rahans. the inmates of those dwellings lived under the direction of a superior, devoting their time to study, meditation, and the observances of the law. they were allowed to go out in the morning very early, to beg and collect the food they wanted for the day. such is the state the religious are living in up to our own time in burmah, ceylon, thibet, siam, and in the other countries where buddhism has been firmly established. the religious season, or lent, lasts three months. it begins in the full moon of watso (july) and ends at the full moon of thadinkiout (october). the keeping of the season in burmah is as follows:--on the days of the new and full moon crowds of people resort to the pagodas, carrying offerings of flowers, small candles, oil, &c. a great many are found to spend the night in the bungalows erected, chiefly for that purpose, in their immediate vicinity. women occupy bungalows separated from those of men. it must be admitted that there, as in churches, they far outnumber the men. on such occasions, religion appears to be rather the pretext than the real object of such assemblies. with the exception of old men and women, who are heard to converse on religious topics, and repeat some parts of the law, or recite some praises in honour of buddha, the others seem to care very little for religion. the younger portion of the weaker sex freely indulge in the pleasure of conversation. it is quite a treat to them to have such a fine opportunity of giving full scope to their talkative powers. during that season the pious faithful are charitably inclined to bestow alms on the rahans. all the necessaries of life pour with abundance and profusion into the monasteries. besides alms-giving and resorting to the pagodas, some fervent laymen practise abstinence and fasting to a certain extent; these, however, are but few. during that period the buddhist recluses are often invited to go to certain places, prepared for the purpose, to preach the law to and receive alms from crowds of hearers who are gathered thither on such occasions. talapoins are generally seated on an elevated platform, facing the congregation; they keep their large fans before the face through modesty, to save themselves from the danger of looking on some tempting object. they repeat in chorus certain passages of the life of buddha, enumerate the five great precepts and other observances of the law. the whole preaching generally goes on in pali, that is to say, in a language unknown to the congregation. when they have done their duty they withdraw, followed by a great number of their disciples, carrying back to the monasteries all the offerings made by the faithful. it happens also, although but seldom in our days, that some fervent recluses withdraw during the whole or a part of the lent season into solitary places, living by themselves, and devoting all their time to reading the books of the law, and meditating on the most important points and maxims of religion. [ ] the remarks of the burmese translator afford me an opportunity of explaining one of the leading tenets of the buddhistic creed. all beings in this world are subjected to the double influence of their merits and demerits. the good influence predominates when the sum of merits surpasses that of demerits, and it is superseded by the latter when the contrary takes place. this principle once admitted, buddhists explain the good or evil that befalls every individual in every conceivable state of existence. is a man dead, he is attended on his way to another state of being both by his merits and demerits, who, like two inseparable companions, follow him whithersoever he goes. should the sum of demerits prove greater, he is forced into hell, or into some other state of punishment, to bear sufferings proportionately to his offences, until he has fully paid off his debt, or, to speak the language of buddhists, until the sum of his demerits be quite exhausted. if, on the contrary, at the moment of his death the influence of merits be the strongest, he is directed into a state of happiness, pleasure, and enjoyment, say in one of the seats of nats or brahmas, and remains there as long as the action of the good influence lasts. when it is over he comes again into the abode of man, or in a state of probation, when he has to labour anew for amassing new and greater merits, that will hereafter entitle him to a higher reward than the one he had previously enjoyed. from the foregoing observations it is evident that the idea of a supreme being rewarding the good and punishing the wicked is carefully excluded, and all foreign interference on this subject entirely done away with. another conclusion flowing from the same source is, that there is no eternity of reward or punishment, but both last for a longer or shorter period, in proportion to the sum of merits and demerits, and consequently to the power of each influence respectively. it may be asked what becomes of the sum of demerits and its consequent evil influence, whilst the superior good influence prevails? the sum of demerits remains all the while entire and undiminished; the operation of the evil influence is suspended, and has no power whatever, its own being checked by a greater one. but the sum of merits being exhausted, and its inherent action at an end, the opposite one is set at liberty, and acts on the individual proportionately to its own strength, and lasts until it is all exhausted. as man can never be without some merits or demerits, good or bad deeds, he must be either in a state of reward or punishment; this is, if i may say so, the mainspring that moves all beings into the whirlpool of countless existences, wherein they meet happiness or unhappiness according to their deserts. the being that tends strongly and perseveringly through his various existences towards perfection, weakens gradually, and finally destroys in himself the law of demerits; he ascends steadily the steps of the ladder of perfection by the practice of the highest virtues. having reached its summit, there is no more reason for his going through other existences, and he steps at once into the state of neibban. on the above principle buddhists account for all the various phases of human existence. is a child born from rich, great, and distinguished parents, does he become a wealthy and powerful man, does he become a king or a nobleman, &c.--he is indebted for all that to merits acquired during former existences. is another child born in a low, poor, and wretched condition, is he born with bodily or intellectual defects and imperfections, &c., &c.--his former demerits are the principle and cause of all his subsequent misfortunes. the doctrine of merits and demerits, and of their concomitant influences, has been fully illustrated in the person of buddha himself during his former existences. he said of himself to his disciples that he had passed with various fortune through the range of the animal kingdom, from the dove to the elephant; that being man he had been often in hell, and in various positions of riches and poverty, greatness and meanness, until by his mighty efforts he at last freed himself from all evil influence, and reached his present state of perfection. he is supposed to have recounted to his disciples on different occasions five hundred and ten of his former existences. [ ] it has been asserted in a former note that the preachings of buddha were accompanied with miracles, to impart an additional weight and an irresistible evidence to his doctrines. this assertion is fully corroborated by all the particulars attending the conversion of the three kathabas and their disciples. on this occasion buddha met with the greatest amount of stubborn resistance on the part of ooroowela kathaba. there is no doubt but our great preacher resorted to every means of persuasion to carry conviction to the mind of his distinguished hearer. he had, however, to deal with a man full of his own merits and excellence, who thought himself far superior to every one else. his best arguments proved powerless before a self-conceited individual, who was used to give and not to receive instruction, and enjoyed a far-famed celebrity. buddha was compelled to resort to his unbounded power of working miracles, and with it overcame at last the obstinate and blind resistance of the proud rathee. no conquest had ever been so dearly bought; but it proved well worth the extraordinary efforts made to obtain it. kathaba became one of the most staunch adherents of buddha, and one of the most fervent disciples, who laboured hard for the propagation of buddhism. he is the most celebrated of all buddhistic monks, and to his name is ever prefixed the distinguished epithet of maha, which means great. after gaudama's demise, he became the patriarch of the buddhists. by his care and exertions, a council of five hundred rahans was assembled at radzagio, under the reign of king adzatathat, to condemn the unbecoming language used by some false or imperfectly taught converts, who wished to shake off, on many points, the authority of buddha. in the episode of the conversion of the three kathabas, the attentive reader cannot fail to have observed one particular that throws some light on the position several heads of philosophical schools occupied in the days that saw the origin of buddhism. those sages lived in retired places, far from the bustle and tumult of the world. it is probable that at first they were alone, or with but a few other individuals who delighted in the same mode of life. their time was entirely taken up with study and meditation. the object of their studies and reflections was the boundless field of metaphysics and morals. their diet was plain, and their abstemiousness carried to a degree hindu devotees and fanatics are alone capable of reaching. the fame of the proficiency of some of those individuals in science and virtue soon attracted to their solitude numbers of pupils, eager to place themselves under the tuition and discipline of masters so eminent in every respect. the three kathabas must have been celebrated throughout the country, since we find them at the head of so many disciples. humility has never been the _forte_ of the heathen sages, either in or out of india. conceit and self-esteem were fostered in their souls by the consciousness of their own superiority and excellence, by the praises lavished on them by their disciples, and not a little by the seclusion from society to which they voluntarily resigned themselves. spiritual pride, like a cunning foe, occupied in the heart the place vacated by passions of a coarser nature and less delicate tinge. the conduct of the elder kathaba fully bears out the truth and correctness of the above assertion. chapter vii. _buddha's sermon on the mountain -- interview of buddha and king pimpathara in the vicinity of the city of radzagio -- answer of kathaba to buddha's interrogation -- instructions delivered to the king and his attendants -- solemn entry of buddha into radzagio -- donation of the weloowon monastery to buddha -- conversion of thariputra and maukalan -- the rahans are keenly taunted by the people of radzagio._ accompanied by his thousand followers, phra went to the village of gayathitha. this village stands on the bank of the river gaia. close to it, there is a mountain resembling in appearance an elephant's head. on the top of the mountain stands a large rock, wide enough to accommodate buddha and all his attendants. he ascended the mountain with his disciples, and, having reached its summit, sat down. summoning all his disciples, he said to them: "beloved bickus, all that is to be met with in the three abodes of men, nats, and brahmas, is like a burning flame. but why is it so? because the eyes are a burning flame; the objects perceived by the eyes, the view of those objects, the feeling created by that view, are all like a burning flame. the sensations produced by the eyes cause a succession of pleasant and painful feelings, but these are likewise a burning flame. what are the causes productive of such a burning? it is the fire of concupiscence, of anger, of ignorance, of birth, of death, of old age, and of anxiety. again, the ear is a burning flame; the sounds, the perception of the sounds, the sensations caused by the sounds, are all a burning flame; the pleasure or pain produced by the sounds are also a burning flame, which is fed by the fire of concupiscence, anger, ignorance, birth, old age, death, anxiety, tears, affliction, and trouble. again, the sense of smelling is a burning flame; the odours, the perception of odours, the sensations produced by odours, are all a burning flame; the pleasure and pain resulting therefrom are but a burning flame, fed by concupiscence, anger, ignorance, birth, old age, death, disquietude, tears, affliction, and sorrow. again, the taste is a burning flame; the objects tasted, the perception of those objects, the sensations produced by them, are all a burning flame, kept up by the fire of concupiscence, anger, ignorance, birth, old age, death, anxiety, tears, affliction, and sorrow. again, the sense of feeling, the objects felt, the perception of those objects, the sensations produced by them, are a burning flame; the pleasure and pain resulting therefrom are but a burning flame, fostered by concupiscence, anger, ignorance, birth, old age, death, anxiety, tears, affliction, and sorrow. again, the heart is a burning flame, as well as all the objects perceived by it, and the sensations produced in it; the pleasure and pain caused by the heart are too a burning flame, kept up by the fire of concupiscence, anger, ignorance, birth, old age, death, disquietude, tears, affliction, and sorrow. beloved bickus, they who understand the doctrine i have preached, and see through it, are full of wisdom and deserve to be called my disciples. they are displeased with the senses, the objects of the senses, matter, pleasure and pain, as well as with all the affections of the heart. they become free from concupiscence, and therefore exempt from passions. they have acquired the true wisdom that leads to perfection; they are delivered at once from the miseries of another birth. having practised the most excellent works, nothing more remains to be performed by them. they want no more the guidance of the sixteen laws, for they have reached far beyond them."[ ] having thus spoken, buddha remained silent. his hearers felt themselves wholly disentangled from the trammels of passion, and disengaged from all affections to material objects, and they who had been but rahans became rahandas. whilst the most excellent phra was enjoying himself in the place of gayathitha, he recollected that, at the time when he was but a phralaong, being near the mountain pantawa, he had received from king pimpathara an invitation to come to his own country and preach the law. accompanied with his thousand rahandas, he set out for the country of radzagio. having arrived at a small distance from the royal city he went to the latti grove, about three gawots from radzagio, a place planted with palm trees. the king, having heard of his arrival, said to his people: "the descendant of a long succession of illustrious princes, the great rahan gaudama, has entered into our country, and is now in the grove of palm trees, in the garden of tandiwana." the happy news was soon re-echoed throughout the country. the people said among themselves: "the great gaudama is come indeed. he is perfectly acquainted with all that relates to the three states of men, nats, and brahmas; he preaches a sublime and lovely law; the morals that he announces are pure, like a shell newly cleansed." pimpathara, placing himself at the head of , warriors, surrounded by crowds of nobles and pounhas, went to the garden of tandiwana, where phra was seated in the middle of his disciples. he paid his respects by prostrating himself before him, and then withdrew to a becoming distance. the countless crowd followed the example of their monarch, and seated themselves at a becoming distance. some of them remained conversing with buddha, and heard from him words worthy to be ever remembered; some others, having their hands joined to the forehead, remained in a respectful attitude; some were praising his illustrious ancestors; others remained modestly silent. all of them, perceiving the three kathabas close to the person of phra, doubted whether gaudama was their disciple, or they, his disciples. buddha, seeing at once what thought occupied the mind of the warriors, noblemen, and pounhas, addressed the elder kathaba, called ooroowela kathaba, and said to him: "kathaba, you who lived formerly in the solitude of of ooroowela, answer the question i am now putting to you. you were formerly a teacher of rathees, who practised works of great mortification, to such an extent that their bodies were emaciated by self-inflicted penances: what has induced you to give up the sacrifices you were wont to make?" "blessed buddha," answered kathaba, "i have observed that exterior objects, the sounds, the taste, the gratification of the senses, are but miserable filth; and, therefore, i take no more delight in the offering of small and great sacrifices." buddha replied, "kathaba, if you be no longer pleased with what is beautiful to the eyes, pleasant to the ear, palatable to the taste, and agreeable to the gratification of the senses, in what do you presently find pleasure and delight?" kathaba answered, "blessed buddha, the state of neibban is a state of rest, but that rest cannot be found as long as we live under the empire of senses and passions. that rest excludes existence, birth, old age, and death; the great mental attainments alone lead thereto. i know and see that happy state. i long for it. i am, therefore, displeased with the making of great and small sacrifices." having thus spoken, kathaba rose up, worshipped buddha by prostrating himself before him, and touching with his forehead the extremities of his feet, and said, "o most excellent buddha, you are my teacher, and i am your disciple." all the people, seeing what kathaba had done, knew that he was practising virtue under the direction of gaudama.[ ] phra, who was acquainted with their innermost thoughts, knew that they were longing to hear the preaching of the law. as he had always done, he began to preach to them the virtue of liberality in almsgiving, and then unfolded before them, with matchless eloquence, the advantages of leaving the world, &c. the hearers felt an inward delight in all that was said to them. observing the favourable impression made upon them, gaudama continued to instruct them on the four laws, regarding the miseries of this world, the passions, the practice of excellent works, and the ways to perfection. at the conclusion of these instructions, the king and , of the assembly, like a piece of white cloth which, when plunged into dye, retains the colour it receives, obtained instantly the state thautapan.[ ] as to the , remaining hearers, they believed in the three precious things in the capacity of upathakas. the ruler of the country of magataritz, king pimpathara, having obtained the state of thautapan, said to gaudama, "illustrious buddha, some years ago, when i was but a crown prince of this country, i entertained five desires, which were all happily accomplished. here are the five desires--i wished to become king; i desired that the phra, worthy of receiving the homage of all men, should come into my kingdom; that i might have the privilege of approaching him; that he might preach his doctrine to me; and, finally, that i might thoroughly understand all his preaching. these five wishes have been fully realised. your law, o most excellent buddha, is a most perfect law. to what shall i liken it as regards the happy results it produces? it is like replacing on its proper basis a vase that was bottom upwards, or setting to light objects hitherto buried in deep darkness; it is an excellent guide that shows out the right way; it is like a brilliant light, shining forth and dispelling darkness. now i take refuge in you, your law, and the assembly of the perfect. henceforth i will be your supporter, and to-morrow i will supply you and your disciples with all that is necessary for the support of nature." buddha, by his silence, testified his acceptance of the offered favour. whereupon the king rose up, prostrated himself before him, and, turning on the right, left the place, and returned to his palace. early in the morning pimpathara ordered all sorts of eatables to be prepared. meanwhile he sent messengers to buddha to inform him that his meal was ready. buddha, rising up, put on his dress, and, carrying his patta, set out for radzagio, followed by his one thousand disciples. at that time a prince of thagias, assuming the appearance of a handsome young man, walked a little distance in front of buddha, singing to his praise several stanzas. "behold the most excellent is advancing towards radzagio with his one thousand disciples. in his soul he is full of meekness and amiability; he is exempt from all passions; his face is beautiful, and shines forth like the star thigi; he has escaped out of the whirlpool of existences, and delivered himself from the miseries of transmigration. he is on his way to the city of radzagio attended by a thousand rahandas." (the same stanza is thrice repeated.) "he who has obtained the perfection of ariahs, who has practised the ten great virtues, who has a universal knowledge, who knows and preaches the law of merits, who discovers at once the sublime attainments, the most perfect being, the most excellent, is entering into the city of radzagio attended by a thousand rahandas." the inhabitants of the city, seeing the beautiful appearance of that young man, and hearing all that he was singing aloud, said to each other, "who is that young man whose countenance is so lovely, and whose mouth proclaims such wonderful things?" the thagia, hearing what was said of him, replied, "o children of men! the most excellent phra whom you see is gifted with an incomparable wisdom; all perfections are in him; he is free of all passions; no being can ever be compared to him; he is worthy to receive the homage and respect of men and nats; his unwavering mind is ever fixed in truth; he announces a law extending to all things. as for me, i am but his humble servant."[ ] having reached the king's palace, buddha was received with every demonstration of respect, and led to the place prepared for him. pimpathara thought within himself of the thing which could prove acceptable to phra, in order to offer it to him. he said within himself, "my garden, which is situated near the city, would doubtless be a very fit place for buddha and his followers to live in. as it lies not far from the city, it would be a place of easy resort to all those who should feel inclined to visit buddha and pay him their respects; it is, moreover, far enough off, so that the noise and cries of the people could not be heard therein. the place is peculiarly fitted for retreat and contemplation; it will assuredly prove agreeable to buddha." whereupon he rose up, and, holding in his hand a golden shell like a cup, he made to phra a solemn offering of that garden which was called weloowon.[ ] gaudama remained silent, in token of his acceptance of the gift. he preached the law and left the palace. at that time he called his disciples and said to them, "beloved rahans, i give you permission to receive offerings." in the country of radzagio there was a heterodox rahan named thindzi, who had under him five hundred and fifty disciples. thariputra and maukalan were at that time practising virtue under the guidance of that master. here is the way they became rahans. when they were but laymen, under the names of oopathi and kaulita, on a certain day, surrounded by two hundred and twenty companions, they went to the top of a lofty mountain to enjoy the sight of countless multitudes of people sporting and playing in the surrounding flat country. while they were gazing over the crowds of human beings they said to each other, "in a hundred years hence all these living beings shall have fallen a prey to death." whereupon they rose up and left the place, but their minds were deeply preoccupied with the idea of death. while the two friends were walking silently together, they began at last to communicate to each other the result of their reflections. "if there be," said they, "a principle of death, a universal tendency towards destruction, there must be, too, its opposite principle, that of not dying and escaping destruction." on that very instant they resolved to search ardently for the excellent law that teaches the way of not dying, and obtain the state of perfect fixity and immutability. in those parts there lived six heterodox teachers who were named mekkali, gau, sala, thindzi, jani, and ganti; among them thindzi was the only one who, with his disciples, wore white clothes. they went to the place where lived the rahan thindzi, placed themselves under his direction, and put on the dress of rahan. within three days they acquired the science, wisdom, and knowledge of their teacher without having as yet reached the object of their eager pursuit. they said to thindzi, "teacher, is this all that you know? and have you no other science to teach us?" "i have indeed," replied the teacher, "taught you all the knowledge i possess." finding nothing satisfactory in the answer, the two friends said, "let us continue seeking for the law that has reality in itself; the first that shall have discovered it shall, without delay, communicate it to the other." on a certain morning one of gaudama's disciples named athadzi, having put on his religious habit, and carrying his patta on his left arm, went out to receive his rice. everything about his person was noble and graceful; his countenance and behaviour were at once gentle and dignified, whether he walked or stopped, looked forward to the right or the left, or sat in a cross-legged position. the false rahan oopathi, who became afterwards thariputra, perceiving the rahan athadzi with such a meek and dignified deportment, said to himself, "such a rahan is assuredly worthy to receive offerings: he has doubtless attained perfection. i will go to him and ask him, in case he has had a teacher, who is that distinguished instructor under whom he practises virtue; and in case of his being himself a teacher, what is the doctrine that he teaches. but it is not becoming to put to him any question whilst he is on his way to beg alms. i will follow at a distance." athadzi, having collected alms, left the city and went to a small dzeat, where he sat down and ate his meal. oopathi followed him thither. having entered into the dzeat, he rendered to him the services that a disciple usually pays to his teacher. when the meal of athadzi was over, he poured water over his hands, and with a heart overflowing with joy, he conversed with him for a while. he withdrew then to a becoming distance, and addressed him as follows: "great rahan, your exterior is full of meekness and benevolence; your countenance bespeaks the purity and innocence of your soul; if you be a disciple, pray under what teacher have you become a rahan? who is your guide in the way to perfection? and what is the doctrine he is preaching to you?" "young rahan," replied athadzi, "have you not heard of the illustrious buddha, the descendant of a long succession of great monarchs, who has entered the profession of rahan? i have become rahan under him; he is my teacher; to his doctrine i cling with all the energy of my soul." "what is the doctrine of that great master?" asked oopathi. "i am but a novice in the profession," replied modestly athadzi, "and am as yet imperfectly acquainted with the doctrine of my teacher. the little, however, i know, i will freely communicate to you." oopathi entreated him to do so. athadzi replied, "the law which i have learned at the feet of buddha explains all that relates to matter, to the principles that act upon it, to passions, and to the mind; it makes man despise all that is material, conquer his passions, and regulate his mind." on hearing this doctrine, oopathi felt the ties of passions gradually relaxing and giving way; his soul became, as it were, disentangled from the influence of the senses. he became enamoured with such a pure and perfect law, and obtained the condition of thautapan. convinced that he had at last found what he had hitherto searched after in vain, the law of neibban, he went without delay to his friend, to make him share in the beneficial result of his fortunate discovery. kaulita, perceiving his friend coming up to him with a rejoicing countenance, indicative of the happiness his soul was inwardly enjoying, asked him if he had found what he had hitherto vainly looked for. oopathi related to him all the particulars of his conversation with the rahan athadzi. whereupon kaulita became instantly a thautapan. both resolved to leave their teacher thindzi, and go immediately to place themselves under the guidance of buddha. three times they applied for permission to execute their design, and three times it was denied them. at last they departed, each with his two hundred and twenty companions. thindzi, enraged at being left alone, died, vomiting blood from his mouth. when the two friends and their followers were drawing near to the place of weloowon, phra assembled all his disciples and said to them, "behold these two friends coming up to me; they will become my two beloved disciples; their minds are acute and penetrating; they actually take delight in the law of neibban; their thoughts are converging towards that great centre of truth; they come to me, and they will become my two most excellent disciples." while he was speaking, the two friends crossed the threshold of the monastery, and prostrated themselves at the feet of buddha, humbly craving the favour of being admitted among his disciples to practise virtue under his immediate direction. on this occasion phra uttered the following words: "o bickus, come to me; i preach the most excellent law: apply yourselves to the practice of the most perfect works, which will put an end to all miseries." a suit of dress and a patta were handed to each of the two friends, that were henceforth to be called thariputra and maukalan, and they became members of the assembly. having put on the new dress, they appeared to the eyes of all with the decent and dignified deportment of rahans that had sixty years of profession. their followers became bickus of the second order. seven days after, maukalan became a rahanda; but it took fifteen days for thariputra to obtain the same favour. the two new converts were elevated to the dignity of disciples of the right and of the left; that is to say, they obtained precedence over all others. the distinction thus granted to thariputra and maukalan excited a feeling of jealousy among the disciples of buddha. in their conversations they complained to each other of the preference given to those who had just been admitted among the members of assembly. they went so far as to say that buddha had acted in this case under the influence of human considerations. these remarks were brought to the notice of buddha, who assembled his disciples, and said to them, "beloved bickus, my conduct in this instance has not been guided by unworthy motives; i have acted as i ought to have done. in the days of the phra anaumadathi, the two friends were leading the life of ascetics. they paid the greatest respect and veneration to the then existing buddha, and entreated him, by repeated supplications, to hold out to them the solemn promise that they would become the disciples of the right and of the left of some future buddha. anaumadathi replied to them that the object of their wishes should be granted unto them when the buddha gaudama would appear in the world. this is, beloved bickus, the reason that has influenced me in elevating to the first rank the two new converts." the answer completely satisfied the disciples, and effectually silenced all murmurs. further particulars regarding the promise that these two illustrious friends received in the time of the buddha anaumadathi may be read, with circumstantial details, in the book called apadan-tera. the inhabitants of the magatha country, seeing that so many persons, chiefly belonging to the first families, were embracing the profession of rahans, said amongst themselves, "behold how the rahan gaudama, by his preachings, causes the depopulation of the country, and forces countless wives to the unwished-for state of widowhood. a thousand rathees have embraced the profession of rahans; all the disciples of thindzi have followed their example; many others will soon tread in their footsteps. what will become of our country?" with these and other expressions, they gave vent to their hatred of the rahans, and endeavoured to pour over them all kinds of ridicule and abuse. they concluded by saying, "the great rahan has come to the city of radzagio, which is like a cow-pen, surrounded by five hills;[ ] he has now with him the disciples of thindzi; who will be the next to go to him?" the rahans, hearing all that was said against them, went to buddha and related to him all that they had heard. to console them, buddha said, "beloved bickus, the abuses, sarcasms, and ridicule levelled at you shall not last long; seven days hence all shall be over. here is the reply you will make to the revilers: like all his predecessors, buddha is striving to preach a most perfect law; by the means of the truths which he proclaims for the benefit of all, he brings men over to himself. what shall it avail any man to feel envious at the success he obtains by so legitimate a means?" the same torrent of ridicule having been poured on the rahans, when they went out, they followed the advice of their great teacher, replied in the manner they had been taught to do, and the storm was soon over. the people understood that the great rahan was preaching a perfect law, and that he never resorted but to fair means to attract disciples round his person. here ends the narrative of the conversion and vocation of thariputra and maukalan. footnotes [ ] the philosophical discourse of buddha on the mountain may be considered as the summary of his theory of morals. it is confessedly very obscure and much above the ordinary level of the human understanding. the hearers whom he addressed were persons already trained up to his teaching, and therefore prepared for understanding such doctrines. had he spoken in that abstruse style to common people, it is certain he would have missed his aim and exposed himself to the chance of not being understood. but he addressed a select audience, whose minds were fully capable of comprehending his most elevated doctrines. he calls his disciples bickus, or mendicants, to remind them of the state of voluntary poverty they had embraced when they became his followers, and to impress their minds with contempt for the riches and pleasures of this world. he lays it down as a great and general principle that all that exists resembles a flame that dazzles the eyes by its brilliancy and torments by its burning effects. here appears the favourite notion of buddhism that there is nothing substantial and real in this world, and that the continual changes and vicissitudes we are exposed to are the cause of painful sensations. buddha reviews the six senses (the heart, according to his theory, is the seat of a sixth sense) in succession, and as they are the channels through which affections are produced on the soul, he compares to a burning flame the organs of the senses, the various objects of the action of the senses, the results painful or agreeable produced by them. hence he fulminates a general and sweeping condemnation against all that exists out of man. the senses, being the means through which matter influences the soul, share in the universal doom. buddha sets forth the causes productive of that burning flame. they are--first, the three great and general principles of demerits, viz., concupiscence, anger, and ignorance. in the book of ethics these three principles are explained at great length; they are represented as the springs from which flow all other passions. in a lengthened digression the author aims at simplifying the question, and endeavours to show, by a logical process, that ignorance is the head source from which concupiscence and passion take their rise. it is, therefore, according to buddhists, into the dark recess of ignorance that metaphysicians must penetrate in order to discover the first cause of all moral disorders. every being has his mind more or less encompassed by a thick mist that prevents him from seeing truth. he mistakes good for evil, right for wrong; he erroneously clings to material objects that have no reality, no substance, no consistence; his passions are kept alive by his love or hatred of vain illusions. the flame is, moreover, fed by birth, old age, death, afflictions, &c., which are as many _foci_ wherefrom radiate out on all surrounding objects fires which keep up the general conflagration. but they play only a secondary action, dependent on the three great causes of all evils just alluded to. what causes birth, old age, and death? inquires the buddhist. the law of merits and demerits is the immediate answer to the question; it might be added thereto, the necessity of acquiring merits and gravitating towards perfection. a man is born to innumerable succeeding existences by virtue of his imperfections, and that he might acquire fresh merits by the practice of virtue. by birth, a being is ushered into a new existence or into a new state, where the burning flame which is supposed to spread over all that exists exercises its teasing and tormenting influence over him. old age and death are two periods when a radical change operates upon a being, and places him in a different situation where he experiences the baneful effects of the conflagration. "blessed are they," says buddha, "who understand this; they are full of wisdom; they become displeased with all passions and with all the things they act upon. the causes of existences being done away with, they have reached the terminus of all possible existences; one step more and they find themselves placed beyond the influence of the power of attraction that retains forcibly all beings in the vortex of existences, and brings them towards the centre of perfection; they are in fact entering into the state of neibban." [ ] from the purport of kathaba's reply to buddha's question, it may be inferred with certainty that the rathees were in the habit of making sacrifices or burnt-offerings. these sacrifices again were distinguished into two classes; the one, including the small or daily ones, and the other, the great burnt-offerings, made on solemn occasions. that these sacrifices were not performed by the killing and immolating of animals, there can be no doubt, as such an act would have been contrary to the tender regard they always had for the life of animals. the institutes of menu come to our help to elucidate this point. the brahmin is enjoined, according to that compilation of laws, to make burnt-offerings of clarified butter and other articles to the manes of his ancestors. agreeably to this regulation, kathaba performed those rites, which, in the opinion of buddha, were perfectly useless, since they could not be the means of elevating the performer to the knowledge and perfection requisite for obtaining what he always calls _per excellence_ the deliverance. kathaba is rather obscure in his answer. it seems that he intended to acknowledge that, notwithstanding the sacrifices and burnt-offerings he had made, and upon the value of which he had laid much stress, concupiscence and other vicious propensities were still deeply rooted in him; that, through the channel of his senses, exterior objects continued to make impressions on his soul. he had, therefore, become disgusted with practices which could not free him from the action and influence of passions and matter. in the opinion of buddha, the observance of exterior religious rites can never elevate man to the sublime knowledge of pure truth, which alone does confer real perfection to him who has become a true sage, and is deemed worthy of obtaining the deliverance. a serious application of the mind to the meditation of the law and the nature of beings, is the only way leading to the acquirement of true wisdom. as long as kathaba was contented with material acts of worship, and his mind's attention was engrossed with those vain ceremonials, he had not as yet entered in the way of perfection. he had hitherto missed the true path; he had wandered in the broad road of error, encompassed by mental darkness, and deceived by perpetual illusions. his extensive knowledge had served but to lead him in the wrong direction. he wanted the guidance of buddha to enable him to retrace his steps and find the right way. he had to become sensible of the truth of the great fundamental maxims of all real wisdom, viz., that in this world all is subjected to change and to pain; and that all beings are mere illusions, destitute of all reality. [ ] to complete what has already been stated respecting the ariahs or venerables in a foregoing note, the following is added. the reader must bear in mind that the ariahs are divided into four classes, named--thautapan, thakadagam, anagam, and arahats, and according to the particular position occupied by the beings of those states, each class is subdivided into two: thus, for instance, thautapatti megata means he who has entered and is walking, as it were, in the way of the perfection of thautapan; and thautapatti-pho indicates those who enjoy the merits and blessings of the state of thautapan; and so with the three superior stages of perfection. to obtain the state of thautapan, a man must have left the direction followed up by all creatures and entered into the direction or way that leads to deliverance. he will have yet to go through , kaps or durations of worlds, and must be born seven times more in the state of man and nat before he be a perfected being, ripe for the state of neibban. those who have reached the state of thakadagam shall have to pass through , kaps, and be born once in the state of nat and once in the state of man, before they be perfected. those who have obtained the third step of anagam have to travel through , kaps, and are no more to undergo the process of birth at the end of that period they are perfected. the fourth stage of perfection, that of arahat, is the highest a being can ever obtain. the fortunate arahat is gifted with supernatural powers. at the end of , kaps he is perfected, and reaches the state of deliverance. those four states are often called the four great roads leading to deliverance or to neibban. it may be asked whether the state of thautapan is the first step reached by every one that adheres to buddha's doctrines or whether it is the one that requires a certain progress in the way of believing and practising? it seems, from the narrative of the conversion of king pimpathara and his followers, that the state of thautapan is the reward of those who have shown a more than common proficiency and fervour in adhering to buddha and his doctrines, but not the first step to enter into the assembly of the faithful and become a member thereof. one may be a simple hearer, or upathaka, believing in the three precious things, without attaining that of thautapan. on this occasion, the king and , of his warriors and noblemen became thautapans, whereas the remaining , became believers and members of the assembly without reaching any further. the first entered into the stream or current leading to perfection. the latter were fervent believers, observed the five precepts, but in no way aspired to the attainment of the doctrines of a higher order. [ ] is not that young man doing the duty of forerunner of buddha on the occasion of his solemn entry into the city of radzagio? the narrative of the donation of the grove or garden of weloowon by king pimpathara to buddha, discloses the manner in which buddhistic monks have become holders, not as individuals, but as members of society, of landed properties. buddha and his disciples at first had no place as a body or a society to live in; hitherto he had taken up his quarters in any place where people were willing to receive him. he must have often been put to great inconvenience, particularly after the accession of new disciples, who daily crowded about him. the pious king felt the disadvantage the society was labouring under: he resolved to give them a place where the assembly might live and remain. the donation was as solemn as possible. it transferred to buddha the property of the garden, without any condition, for ever. the donation, on the other hand, was fully accepted. this is, i believe, the first instance of an act of this description. the grove and monastery of weloowon is much celebrated in buddha's life. in burmese towns a particular spot is allowed for the building of houses or monasteries for buddhistic recluses or monks. it is somewhat isolated from all other buildings, and forms, as it were, the quarter of the yellow-dressed personages. here is a general description of one of these buildings. they are of an oblong-square shape, raised about eight or ten feet above the ground, and supported on wooden posts, and sometimes, though seldom, on brick pillars. the frame of the edifice is of wood, and planks form the wall. above the first roof rises a second one of smaller dimensions, and a third one, yet smaller than the second. this style of roofing a building is allowed only for pagodas, talapoins' houses, and royal palaces. the place between the soil and the floor is left open and never converted to any use. a flight of steps, made of wood or bricks, leads to the entrance of the edifice, the interior whereof is generally divided as follows:--one vast hall designed for the reception of visitors, and used also as a schoolroom for the boys who go to learn the rudiments of reading, writing, and sometimes ciphering. except on grand occasions, the talapoins generally stay in that hall, doing away with their time in the best way they can, occasionally reading books, counting their beads, chewing betel, and very often sleeping. at the extremity of the hall there is a place raised one or two steps above the level. a portion of that place is left vacant, and reserved for the sittings of the talapoins, when they receive visitors; the other portion, which extends to the wall, is occupied by idols or representations of buddha, raised on pedestals, and sometimes placed on shelves, with the few implements required for exterior worship. there, too, are to be seen a few trunks ornamented with sculptures and gildings, and containing books belonging to the monastery. the hall and the place as far as the walls occupy just one-half of the oblong-square. the other half, parallel to the first, is occupied by rooms intended for the storing of alms, and as dormitories for the inmates of the house. in some, monasteries the ceiling is painted and partly gilt. the cook-room, when there is one, is connected with the extremity of the square opposite to the one occupied by the idols. it is generally on the same level with the floor of the building. government has nothing to do with the erection, repairs, and maintenance of these edifices. they are erected and kept up by private individuals, who deem it very meritorious to build such places. those whose piety actuates and prompts them to undertake such an expensive work assume the title of kiaong taga, which means supporter of a pagoda or talapoins' residence. they are proud of such distinction, cause themselves to be called by that title, and always make it to follow their names in signing any paper or document. the above descriptive sketch of a monastery is rather incomplete, if applied to those found in the large places of burmah proper, and particularly in the capital. some of them are laid out on a scale of vastness and magnificence difficult to realise by those who have not examined them. a large open gallery runs all round the building; a second one of a rectangular shape, but protected by the roof, forms, as it were, on the four sides the _vestibulum_ to the central portion of the edifice. it is the place where the phongies spend the greater part of their time, either in talking with the numerous idlers that visit them, or in teaching children. large shutters separate this from the open verandah; they may be thrown all open by pushing forward the lower part, the upper one remaining fixed by hinges, and so may be opened to the height required to protect the inmates from the rain and the sun. the central hall, by far the finest and loftiest of the building, is reserved for the idols and all the implements of worship, and the boxes containing the books of the monastery, commonly put together in a very disordered way. the ceiling is gilt and adorned, often with taste and elegance. a partition divides the hall into two equal parts. the one towards the east is for some huge statue of gaudama, and smaller ones with many articles of worship. the other, facing the south, is used for several purposes; sometimes as dormitories for the talapoins. the posts supporting the interior part are six or eight in number, and offer the finest specimens of teak timber i have ever seen, some being fully sixty and seventy feet high. in some of these monasteries the best parts of the interior are gilt, and sometimes the exterior sides; the ornaments of the extremities of the roof and the space between the roofs are covered with gold leaves. in those two places too are displayed carvings, which reflect great credit on the skill of native workmen, and elicit the admiration of foreigners. one of these monasteries called the kioung-dau-gye, near the place where the arracan idol is, and another close to the place where the supreme head of talapoins is living, are the finest and largest specimens of monasteries the writer has ever seen in burmah. [ ] on the occasion of the presentation to buddha of the weloowon monastery, and of the lands attached to it, by king pimpathara, there was observed a curious ceremony, often alluded to in buddhist writings. he held in his hands a golden pitcher full of water, which he kept pouring down on the ground, whilst he pronounced the formula of donation. this is a ceremony of indian origin, which, with many others, has been imported into these parts along with the religious doctrines. it is intended to be an exterior sign of, or testimony to, the offering that is made on the occasion. when it is performed, the parties pronounce a certain formula, calling the nats, guardians of the place, to witness the act of donation, and, in particular, the nat that is supposed to rule over the earth; and at the same time the offerer, not satisfied with receiving for his own benefit the merits of his pious liberality, expresses the earnest desire that all men, or rather all beings, should share with him in the blessings he expects to reap from his good deed. the generous and liberal disposition of the donor, it may be observed, exhibits the truly pleasing display of an amount of charity and brotherly love scarcely to be expected from the followers of an erroneous creed. the ceremony, therefore, has a twofold object, conferring unreserved and absolute efficiency on the act of donation, and dividing or apportioning the merits of the good work among all beings. in perusing attentively the contents of this legend, the reader will easily follow the gradual development of the buddhist religious system, and, in particular, the establishment of most of the disciplinary regulations in full force in our own days in most of the countries where that form of religion has obtained a long standing and a predominating footing. at first the religious that constituted the body of the followers of buddha were few, and could easily, in the company of their eminent teacher, procure, in accordance with the vow of strict poverty they had made, shelter, food, and raiment. there was no need for them to accept, in the shape of donation, anything beyond what was absolutely necessary for the wants of the day. we may conjecture that their leader watched with a jealous care over his religious on this point, to establish them in the spirit of poverty and of a thorough contempt for the things of this world. but the society or fraternity growing numerous, the dependence on the daily offerings appeared not to meet in sufficient manner the real necessities it felt, particularly as regards shelter. this want was quickly perceived and keenly felt by the pious king pimpathara, who came to the resolution of presenting buddha and his followers with a proper place to withdraw to at all times, but particularly during the wet season, when the pouring of the annual rains puts a check of four months to the religious peregrinations of the preachers. the same motives that induced buddha to accept the proffered royal gift influenced him likewise to grant to his religious the dangerous, it is true, but the absolutely necessary permission of receiving offerings of houses and lands. from that time, the religious communities have made use of the privilege granted to them in all the places where they have been established. in burmah this favour has not been abused, and the religious body, though never standing in want of anything required for the daily use, cannot be said to be wealthy. having not to cast in the scales of the political balance the weight of riches, and the preponderance essentially attending the possession of them, their influence in the political affairs is not, at least exteriorly, felt. [ ] in his archaeological survey report, general cunningham has supplied us with an accurate description of the position and ruins of the celebrated city of radzagio. his own measurements of the old ramparts, that are still visible, agree to a surprising degree with those of the two chinese pilgrims, fa-hian and hwen-tsan, who visited the same spot in the fourth and sixth century of our era. the city was situated in a valley, surrounded by five hills, which are named gigakuta, isigli, wibhara, wipula, and pandawa. it was five miles in circumference. this is meant for the circuit of the inner wall. the exterior one was nearly nine miles. on the southern face of the wibhara mountain is the famous cave at the entrance of which was held the first buddhist council, not long after the cremation of buddha's remains. there is no doubt that the heights were, in the palmy days of buddhism, covered with buddhistic monuments. as the place was subsequently occupied by brahmins and mussulmans, the dzedis and monasteries have been mercilessly pulled down to furnish materials for musjids, tombs, and temples. the eminences are now covered with mussulman tombs, which occupy the places formerly adorned with pagodas. springs of hot water were numerous in the vicinity of the city. the writer has only met once in buddhistic compositions an allusion to that natural phenomenon so beneficial to people living in hot climates. the modern rajghir, both by name and situation, brings to our recollection the celebrated capital of magatha, so famous in buddhistic annals. as the extent of radzagio has been so accurately determined by ancient and modern visitors, one can well afford to laugh at the immensely exaggerated number of houses that are supposed by certain burmese writers to have composed the city. chapter viii. _thoodaudana, desirous to see his son, sends messengers to him -- they become converts -- kaludari, a last messenger, prevails on buddha to go to kapilawot -- his reception -- conversion of the king and of yathaudara -- nanda and raoula put on the religious habit -- conversion of ananda and of several of his relatives -- temptation of ananda -- conversion of eggidatta -- story of tsampooka._ whilst the most excellent phra remained in the weloowon monastery, enjoying himself in the midst of his disciples and the crowds of hearers that daily resorted thither to listen to his preachings, his father thoodaudana[ ] who had ever been anxiously and sedulously gathering every possible information respecting his son, from the time he withdrew into solitude, and performed during six years the hardest works of bodily mortification, was then informed that his son had already begun to preach the most perfect law, and was actually staying in the city of radzagio. he felt then an irresistible desire to see him once more before his death. he therefore ordered a nobleman of his court into his presence, and said to him: "nobleman, take with you a retinue of a thousand followers, and go forthwith to the city of radzagio. tell my son that i am now much advanced in years, that i long to see him once more before i die; desire him, therefore, to come over with you to the country of kapilawot." the nobleman, having received the royal message, took leave from the king, and attended by a thousand followers, set out for radzagio. when he drew near to the weloowon monastery, he found it crowded with an innumerable multitude of people, listening with a respectful attention to buddha's instructions. unwilling to disturb the audience, the nobleman delayed for a while the delivery of his royal master's message. halting at the verge of the crowd, he, with his followers, eagerly lent the utmost attention to all that buddha was saying. they at once obtained the state of arahat, and applied for admission into the order of rahans. the favour was granted. to obtain pattas and tsiwarans for so great a number of applicants, buddha stretched his right arm, when there appeared at once the pattas and dresses required. the new converts put on the dress of their order, when they all appeared with the dignified countenance and meek deportment of rahans who had had sixty years of profession. having arrived at the exalted state of ariahs, they became indifferent and unconcerned about all the things of this material world, and the king's mandate was entirely lost sight of. the sovereign of kapilawot, seeing that his nobleman did not return from the country of magatha,[ ] and that no news was heard of him, despatched a second messenger with an equal number of followers on the same errand. they all were taken up with buddha's preachings and became rahandas. the same thing happened to seven messengers successively sent to radzagio for the same purpose. they, with their respective retinues, became converts of the first class. disappointed at seeing that none of the messengers had returned to bring him any news regarding his son, king thoodaudana exclaimed: "is there no one in my palace that bears any affection unto me? shall i not be able to get a person who could procure for me some information respecting my son?" he looked among his courtiers and selected one, named kaludari, as the fittest person for such a difficult errand. kaludari had been born on the same day as buddha: with him he had spent the age of his infancy, and lived on terms of the most sincere friendship. the king said to him: "noble kaludari, you know how earnestly i long to see my son. nine messengers have already been sent to the city of radzagio to invite my son to come over to me, and none of them has as yet come back to me, to bring information respecting the object of my tenderest affections. i am old now, and the end of my existence is quite uncertain; could you not undertake to bring my son over to me? whether you become rahan or not, let me have the happiness of contemplating once more my beloved son ere i leave this world." the nobleman promised to the king to comply with his royal order. attended by a retinue of a thousand followers, he set out for the city of radzagio. having reached the weloowon monastery, he listened to buddha's preachings, and, like the former messengers, he became at once a rahanda with all his followers. gaudama, having obtained the buddhaship, spent the first season (lent) in the solitude of migadawon. thence he proceeded to the solitude of ooroowela, where he remained three months, until he had completed the work of converting the three kathabas. it was on the full moon of piatho (january) that he entered into the city of radzagio, accompanied by his thousand disciples. he had just stayed two months in that place, so that there were five months since he had left the country of baranathee. seven days after kaludari's arrival, the cold season being nearly over, the new convert addressed buddha as follows: "illustrious phra, the cold season is over, and the warm season has just begun; this is now the proper time to travel through the country; nature wears a green aspect; the trees of the forests are in full blossom; the roads are lined to right and left with trees loaded with fragrant blossoms and delicious fruits; the peacock proudly expands its magnificent tail; birds of every description fill the air with their ravishing and melodious singing. at this season heat and cold are equally temperate, and nature is scattering profusely its choicest gifts." by such and similar allurements kaludari endeavoured to dispose buddha to undertake a journey to kapilawot. gaudama hearing all these words said: "what means this? to what purpose are uttered so many fine expressions?" kaludari replied: "your father, o blessed buddha, is advanced in years; he has sent me to invite you to come over to kapilawot, that he might see you before his death. he and your royal parents will be rejoiced at hearing your most excellent law." "well," said buddha, "go and tell the rahans to hold themselves ready for the journey." it was arranged that ten thousand rahandas from magatha and ten thousand from kapilawot would accompany the illustrious traveller. the distance between the two countries is sixty youdzanas.[ ] sixty days were to be employed in going over that distance, so they were to travel at the rate of but one youdzana a day. kaludari was anxious to go and inform the king of the happy issue of his negotiation. he flew through the air, and in a short time reached the palace of the lord of kapilawot. the king, seeing him, was exceedingly glad; he desired the illustrious rahan to sit in a becoming place, and gave orders that his patta should be filled with the choicest dishes from the royal table. meanwhile kaludari related to the king all the circumstances attending his journey. when he had spoken, thoodaudana desired him to take his meal. kaludari begged to be excused, saying that he would go and take his meal in the presence of buddha. "where is he now?" replied the king. "mighty lord," answered kaludari, "buddha, accompanied by twenty thousand rahandas, is on his way to this country, to pay a visit to his royal father; on this very day he has left the city of radzagio." thoodaudana was exceedingly pleased; he said again to kaludari, "eat your meal here, and please to take another meal to my son; i wish to supply him daily with food during his journey." kaludari acceded to the king's request. when his meal was over, they cleansed his patta with the most exquisite perfumes, and afterwards filled it with the best and choicest eatables. the patta was then respectfully handed to the aërial messenger, who, in the presence of a large crowd of people, rose in the air with the patta under his arm, and in an instant arrived in presence of gaudama, to whom he offered the vessel containing the delicious food from his father's table. buddha received the food with pleasure, and ate it. the same thing was daily performed during all the time the journey lasted. kaludari went every day to the palace through the air, ate his meal there, and brought that of his distinguished instructor, who during all the way partook of no other food but that which was brought over to him from his father's palace. every day kaludari carried news of the progress of buddha's journey. by this means he increased in the heart of all an ardent desire of seeing him, and disposed every one to wait on the great gaudama with favourable and good dispositions. the services rendered on this occasion by kaludari were much valued by buddha himself, who said: "kaludari is disposing the people to welcome our arrival; he is therefore one of the most excellent among my disciples." the princes and all the members of the royal family, having heard of gaudama's arrival, consulted among themselves as to the best means of paying due respect to the noble and illustrious visitor. they selected the grove of nigraudatha[ ] as the fittest place to receive him with his disciples. the place was properly cleared and made ready for the long-expected company. the inhabitants of the country, attended with their richest dress, carrying flowers and perfumes, went out to meet buddha.[ ] children of both sexes opened the procession; they were followed by the children of the noblest families; next came all the persons belonging to the royal family. all went to the grove of nigraudatha, where buddha had just arrived with the twenty thousand rahans that accompanied him. the princes, secretly influenced by pride, thus thought within themselves: this prince theiddat is younger than we all; he is but our nephew, let the young people prostrate themselves before him; as to ourselves, let us remain sitting down behind them. this was quickly perceived by buddha, who said to himself: my relatives refuse to prostrate themselves before me; i will now even compel them to do so. whereupon he entered into ecstasy, rose in the air, and standing over the heads of his relatives, as a person shaking dust over them, he exhibited to their astonished regards, on a white mango-tree, wonders of fire and water. thoodaudana, surprised at such a wonderful display of supernatural power, exclaimed: "illustrious buddha, on the day you were born they brought you to the presence of the rathee kaladewela, to do homage to him; on that occasion, having seen you placing your two feet on the rathee's forehead, i prostrated myself before you for the first time. on the day of the ploughing solemn rejoicings, you were placed under the shade of the tree tsampoothapye. the sun by its daily motion had caused the shadows of all surrounding trees to change their direction; that of the tree under which you were placed alone remaining unmoved. i prostrated myself a second time before you; and now, at the sight of this new wonder, i again bow down to you." the example of the king was instantly imitated by all the princes, who humbly bowed down to buddha. satisfied with having humbled his proud relatives, buddha came down and sat in the place prepared for him. he then caused a shower of red rain to pour down over the assembled multitudes. it had the virtue to wet those who liked it, and not to wet those who disliked it. "this is not," said buddha, "the only time when such a wonder has happened; the same thing took place once during one of my former existences, when i was prince wethandra." he went on, relating the most interesting circumstances of that former state of existence. the whole assembly now delighted at hearing his preachings and witnessing the display of his power. they all withdrew when the preaching was over, and retired to their respective places, without, however, inviting buddha to come and take his meals in their houses. on the following morning, buddha set out with his twenty thousand followers to get his meal. when he had arrived at the gate of the city, he stood for a while, deliberating within himself whether he would go to the palace to receive his meal, or go from street to street to beg for it. he paused for a while, reflecting on the course of conduct that had been followed by all the former buddhas. having known that they all, without exception, had been in the habit of going out from house to house in quest of their food, he resolved at once to follow their example. whereupon he entered the city and began to perambulate the streets in search of his food. the citizens, from the various stories of their houses, were looking out with amazement at such an unusual sight. "how is this?" said they; "we see prince raoula and his mother yathaudara going out attired in the richest dresses, sitting in the most elegant conveyance, and now prince theiddat[ ] is appearing in the streets with his hair and beard shaved, and his body covered with a yellow dress befitting a mendicant. such a thing is unbecoming indeed." whilst they were holding this language, on a sudden, rays of the purest light shot forth from the body of buddha, and illuminated all the objects around his person. at this unexpected sight, they all joined in praising and extolling the virtue and glory of buddha. king thoodaudana was soon informed that his son was perambulating the streets of the city in the dress of a mendicant. startled at such a news, he rose, and seizing the extremity of his outer garment, ran to the encounter of his son. as soon as he saw him he exclaimed: "illustrious buddha, why do you expose us to such a shame? is it necessary to go from door to door to beg your food? could not a better and more decent mode be resorted to for supplying your wants?" "my noble father," said buddha, "it is meet and convenient that all rahans should go out and beg their food." "but," replied the monarch, "are we not the descendants of the illustrious prince thamadat? there is not a single person in our illustrious race that has ever acted in such an indecorous manner." buddha retorted, "my noble father,[ ] the descent from the glorious princes thamadat is something that belongs both to you and your royal family: the lineage of a buddha is quite different from that of kings and princes; it bears no resemblance to it. their ways and manners must essentially differ from those of princes. all former buddhas have always been in the habit of thus going out in search of their food." then stopping his course and standing in the street, he uttered the following stanzas, "my noble father, it is not proper that i should ever neglect the duty of receiving alms; it is an action good in itself, tallying with truth, deserving of great merits, and productive of happiness in this and future existences." when he had spoken, his father obtained the state of thautapan. he went to the palace with his father, saying, "those who go to beg food according to the injunction and prescription of the law, are doing well, and prepare themselves for a state of happiness both for the present and future: those who do go begging, but without any regard to the ordinances of the law, ought to refrain from doing so." he was speaking in that way when he entered the palace. his aunt gaudamee became a thautapan. his father, after this second preaching, reached the state thagadagan. thoodaudana invited phra and his followers to ascend to the upper part of the palace and partake of the meal prepared for them. when the meal was over, all the ladies of the palace came to pay their respects to buddha. some of them urged the princess yathaudara to do the same. but she refused to comply with their request, in the hope that a greater deference would be shown to her, and buddha would come and visit her in her apartments. perceiving her studied inattendance, phra said to his father, "my noble father, i will go and visit the princess, and will, without saying a single word, make her pay obedience to, and prostrate herself before me." king thoodaudana took up the patta, and accompanied his son to the princess's apartments, together with his two disciples, thariputra and maukalan. buddha had scarcely been seated on the place destined to him, when yathaudara threw herself at buddha's feet, and placing her two hands on both ankles, touched repeatedly the upper part with her forehead. meanwhile thoodaudana mentioned to his son the respectful and affectionate regard she had ever entertained for his person. "since she heard," added the king, "that you had put on the yellow robe, she would wear only clothes of that colour; when she knew that you took but one meal a day, that you slept on a small and low couch, and gave up, without regret, the use of perfumes, she instantly followed your example, ate but one meal a day, slept on a low couch, and gave up without grief the use of essences." "illustrious monarch," replied buddha, "i do not wonder at the practices of late observed by the princess yathaudara; in former times, when her merits were as yet only few and imperfect, she was living at the foot of a certain mountain, and knew, even then, how to behave with becomingness, and attend with a strict regard to all religious duties." this very day, that is to say, the second day after the full moon of katson, was fixed as the time for the taking place of five grand ceremonies. nanda,[ ] the younger brother of buddha, was to have his head washed, to put on the thingkiit, or royal head ornament, to be raised to the dignity of crown prince, to be put in possession of his own palace, and to be married. when phra was leaving the palace, he bade the young prince take his patta and follow him. nanda instantly complied with the request, and departed. he was just leaving the palace, when the young lady he was to marry heard the sound of the steps and of the voice of her lover. she was then busily engaged in combing her beautiful and shining black hair. with the left hand drawing aside her hair, and with the right leaning on the window-frame, she, with a sweet yet tremulous voice, eagerly recommended him soon to return. she then continued to follow him with anxious eyes until he could be seen no longer. meanwhile, resting against the window-side, she had her heart full of ominous forebodings. nanda would have gladly given back the patta to his owner; but as he felt backward to hand it over to him, he followed buddha as far as the monastery. though he had no intention of becoming rahan on his way to that place, yet, despite of his former dispositions, he entered into the society of the perfect. so that on the second day after phra's arrival at kapilawot, nanda became a rahan. some other writings mention that this happened only on the third day. on the seventh day after phra had entered into the city of kapilawot, the mother of raoula, princess yathaudara, put on her son the choicest ornaments, and sent him to phra, saying previously to him: "dearest son, he whom you see surrounded by twenty thousand rahandas, whose face resembles gold, and whose body is similar to that of the chief of brahmas, is indeed your father. he was formerly the owner of the four gold vases which disappeared on the very day he withdrew into solitude; go to him now, and say respectfully, that, being at present crown prince of this kingdom, destined to succeed your grandfather on the throne, you wish to become possessed of the property that will fall to you in right of inheritance." the young prince departed. having come into the presence of buddha, he endeavoured, with the simplicity and amiability becoming a young lad, to ingratiate himself in his father's favour, and said how happy he was to be with him, adding many other particulars befitting his age and position. buddha, having eaten his meal and performed his usual devotions, rose up and departed. raoula followed behind, saying: "father, give me my inheritance." buddha appearing neither displeased nor vexed at such a demand, none of his followers durst tell the young prince to desist from his apparently rude behaviour, and go back to the palace. they all soon reached the monastery. phra thus thought within himself: raoula is asking from me perishable things, but i will give him something more excellent and lasting. i will make him partaker of those goods i have gathered at the foot of the bodi tree, and thereby will provide for him a better inheritance for the future. whereupon he called thariputra, and said to him: "beloved disciple, the young prince raoula asks from me a worldly inheritance, which would avail him nothing, but i wish to present him with something more excellent, an imperishable inheritance; let him become a rahan." maukalan shaved the head of raoula and attired him with the tsiwaran. thariputra gave him the first instructions. when hereafter he became patzing, kathaba trained him up to the duties of his new profession. king thoodaudana had seen his first son prince theiddat leave the palace and all the attracting allurements of a brilliant court; despite of all his precautions, he subsequently witnessed his going into a solitude and becoming a rahan. next to him, his younger son nanda, though assured by the promises of soothsayers of becoming a great and mighty ruler, had joined the society of rahans. these two events had deeply afflicted him. but, on hearing that his grandson had also become a rahan, he could no longer keep his affliction within himself. "i had," said he, "hoped that my grandson would succeed me on the throne; this thought consoled me for the loss of my two sons. what will become of my throne? now the royal succession is at an end, and the line of direct descendants is for ever cut and irrevocably broken asunder." thoodaudana obtained the state of anagam. he said to himself: it is enough that i should have had so much to suffer and endure on the occasion of my two sons and my grandson becoming rahans; i will spare to other parents a similar affliction. he went to buddha's place, and having paid him his respects in a becoming manner, asked him to establish a regulation forbidding any son to become rahan, unless he had the consent of his parents. buddha assented to his father's wish and preached to him the law. when the instruction was finished, the king bowed to him, rose up, turned on the right, and departed. buddha, calling immediately the rahans, said to them: "beloved bickus, no one is to be admitted to the profession of rahan, ere he has obtained the consent of his parents: any one that shall trespass this regulation shall be guilty of a sin." on a certain day, phra having eaten his meal at his father's palace, the king related to him the circumstance of a nat, who, whilst he was undergoing great austerities in the solitude, had come and conveyed the report of his son having succumbed under the hardships of mortification; but he would never give credit to such a rumour, as he was certain that his son could not die ere he had become a buddha. "my illustrious father," replied buddha, "you are much advanced in merits; there is no wonder at your not believing a false report; but even in former ages, when your merits were as yet very imperfect, you refused to believe your son was dead, though in proof of this assertion bones were exhibited before you in confirmation of the report." and he went on relating many particulars that are to be found in the history of maha damma pala. it was at the conclusion of this discourse that the king became anagam. having thus firmly established his father in the three degrees of perfection, buddha returned to the country of radzagio. during this voyage, the most excellent phra arrived at the village of anupya, in the country of the malla princes. in the neighbourhood of the village there is a grove of mango-trees. to that place he withdrew with his twenty thousand disciples, and enjoyed himself in that secluded and delightful retreat. while he dwelt on that spot, the seed of the law that he had planted in his native city was silently taking deep root in the hearts of many. his uncle thekkaudana had two sons, named mahanan and anooroudha. on a certain day mahanan said to his younger brother: "from among the several families of the royal race, many persons have left the world and embraced the religious profession under the guidance of buddha. our family is the only one that has not as yet given any member to the assembly. i will make you a proposal: either you will become an ascetic, and leave me your inheritance; or i will myself take that step, and make over to you all that i possess." anooroudha at once accepted the proposal. when the intentions of the two brothers became known, five young princes, their playmates and relatives, named bagoo, kimila, baddya, ananda,[ ] and dewadat, desired to join them in their pious design. having put on their finest dress, they went into the country, having no other attendant but oopali, their barber. they shaped their course in the direction of anupya. being at a small distance from the mango-trees' grove, the young princes stripped themselves of their rich dresses, and gave them all to the barber, as an acknowledgment of his services. the latter at first accepted them, and was preparing to return, when the following thought occurred to his mind: "if i go back to kapilawot with these fine and rich apparels, the king and the people will believe that i have come by foul means in possession of so many valuables, and i shall certainly be put to death. i will follow my masters, and never leave them." hereupon he returned in all haste and joined them at the very moment they were disposing themselves to enter into the anupya mango-trees' grove. oopali was admitted into their company, and ushered along with them into buddha's presence. having paid their respects in the usual manner, they applied for the dignity of members of the assembly. their request was granted. but previous to passing through the prescribed ceremonies, the princes said one to another: "great indeed and deeply rooted is the pride of princes: it is extremely difficult to shake it off, and free oneself of its tyrannical exactions. let oopali be first ordained; we will have an opportunity of humbling ourselves by prostrating ourselves before him." their request was granted. after having paid their respects to the newly ordained convert, they were likewise admitted among the members of the assembly. their proficiency in spiritual progress was not the same. during the second lent, which they spent in the weloowon monastery, baddya, bagoo, and kimila reached the culminating point of perfection by becoming rahandas. ananda became thautapatti. anooroudha greatly advanced in the higher path of metaphysics. as to dewadat, he never attained more than the laukithamabat. a little while after the conversion of the royal princes, buddha left anupya, continued his voyage to radzagio, and forthwith retired into the weloowon monastery to spend his second lent. the time was chiefly employed in training up the new converts in the knowledge of the great truths, and in the practice of virtue. his son raoula, about eight years old, evinced the greatest dispositions. his attainments were far above his age, and often elicited the admiration of the rahans. on a certain occasion buddha overheard them expressing their astonishment at the surprising progress raoula was making in his studies. coming among them as if perchance, phra asked them what was the subject of their conversation. they answered that they were praising and extolling the wonderful abilities of raoula, and his matchless good dispositions. thereupon buddha remarked that this was not to be wondered at. then he related to them the dzat miga, by which he showed to them that during former existences raoula had distinguished himself in a conspicuous manner by his excellent and admirable dispositions. as a reward for his good behaviour and high mental qualifications, he was made patzin. his mind continuing to expand in an almost miraculous manner, he became a rahanda with myriads of nats. during the same season, buddha often went to radzagio to beg his food. there was in that city a flower-seller, who was wont to bring eight bouquets every day to the king, and receive in return from the royal hands eight pieces of silver. on a certain day, as he was coming from the country into the town with his usual supply of flowers for the king, he happened to see buddha in the streets at a moment when, by a miraculous display of his power, the six glories beamed out of his body. he then said to himself: "i wish to go and offer these flowers to buddha. but the king will doubtless be much angry with me. he may have me arrested, thrown into prison, and put to death for having failed in offering him the usual present. despite the great danger that hangs over me, i will go to buddha and offer him my flowers. great, indeed, and lasting shall be the merits i will gain; they will follow me during countless existences." with a heart full of joy, thoomana, for such is his name, went to the resting-place where buddha was seated, surrounded by crowds of people, and laid the flowers at his feet. with a marked satisfaction, gaudama accepted the offer. thoomana went home and related to his wife what had just happened. the latter, irritated partly by the fear of the king's wrath, and partly by the loss of the money she daily received, began to abuse her husband in the coarsest language. she was so much maddened by passion that she in all haste went to the king, denounced her husband, and instantly sued for a divorce. pimpathara revolted at such an act of unparalleled audacity, ordered her to withdraw from his presence and go back to her house. meanwhile he commanded one of his courtiers to order the flower-seller to come to the palace on the following day. as a matter of course, the royal request was punctually complied with. in the presence of the assembled courtiers, the king highly praised the conduct of thoomana, and instantly rewarded him with great liberality. as thoomana had offered to buddha eight bunches of flowers, the king, to acknowledge in a distinct manner such an offering, gave him eight elephants, eight horses, eight slaves, eight bullocks, eight thousand pieces of silver, and the revenue of eight villages. buddha likewise exceedingly extolled the meritorious behaviour of thoomana in the presence of the people, and said that during a whole world he would be exempt from the four states of punishment, enjoy happiness in the seat of man and in those of nats, and finally become a pitzega-buddha. the value of the offering, though little in itself, became great by the imminent risks he voluntarily exposed himself to. he made his offering, though he was certain of incurring on that account the ruler's displeasure. when the season of retirement was over, gaudama travelled through different places. he went to patzanawonta in the dzetia country, thence he passed into the bisakila forest, and returned to radzagio, in the grove of yin-daik trees, near the burial-place. whilst buddha was in the splendid dzetawon monastery, just presented to him, a strong temptation came upon ananda to renounce his calling and return into the world. he went so far as to tell some of his brethren that he recollected the promise of a prompt return which he made to his young bride dzanapada-kaliani, and that now he wished to fulfil it by immediately going back into his palace, and resuming his former mode of life. this was soon reported to gaudama, who resorted to the following expedient to crush in the bud the rising temptation. he took ananda by the arm, rose with him in the air, and led him in the direction of the nats' seat of tawadeintha. on their way, buddha, by a miraculous process, exhibited to the eyes of his companion the sight of an immense forest in conflagration. on the burnt stump of a tree he showed him a female monkey horribly mutilated, having her tail, ears, and nose cut off. at such a sight the horrified ananda turned away his eyes in disgust. a little while after this, buddha exhibited before him the dazzling and heart-captivating sight of a long array of five hundred matchless beauties. they were daughters of nats going to pay their respects to the great thagia. ananda was gazing at them with silent but enraptured feelings. buddha said to him: "do you believe those beauties before you to be equal to dzanapada?" "she is no more to these perfect forms," answered he, "than the bleeding female monkey we have left behind us is to her." "all these celestial damsels," said buddha, "i shall give to you, provided you agree to remain in the monastery for some years longer." "willingly do i accept the proposal," replied ananda; "i will stay cheerfully in the monastery on such favourable terms." whereupon both returned to the monastery. * * * * * the members of the assembly soon became acquainted with what had passed between the master and the disciple, and keenly taunted ananda with their sarcastic remarks upon the daughters of nats. ashamed of himself, ananda withdrew into solitude. there he devoted himself to reflection and penitential deeds, and finally annihilated the evil desires of his unsubdued passion. when the inward struggle was over and peace had been restored in him, ananda went to buddha's presence, and stated his willingness to dwell for ever in a monastery and lead a religious life. meantime he released him from the promise he had made to him respecting the celestial beauties. buddha was much pleased at such a happy change. he said to the assembled religious: "previous to this occurrence, ananda resembled a badly-roofed house, which lets in the rain of passions; but now it is similar to a well-roofed building, which is so well protected that it is proof against the oozing of passions." whereupon he related the following story concerning a former existence of ananda. a merchant named kappaka had a donkey which he used to carry goods from place to place. having one day come near a place covered with trees, kappaka unloaded his animal, to allow him some time to rest and graze. meanwhile, a female donkey was likewise grazing in the neighbourhood. its presence was quickly detected by kappaka's animal. when the moment of departure had come, the latter, attracted by the female, kicked furiously at his master, and would not allow the load to be replaced on its back. the merchant, enraged at this unusual freak, began to threaten the rebellious beast, and then to hit it with the whip as hard as he could. at last the poor animal, unable to bear any longer the blows, mentioned to his master the cause of his unusual behaviour. kappaka told him that if he would but continue his voyage, he would give him at the end of the journey several fine females, much superior to the one he was now coveting. the proposal was accepted. at the end of the journey kappaka said to the beast: "i will keep my promise with you: but i must inform you that your daily provender shall not be increased; you will have to share it with your companion. subsequently you will have little ones to provide for and maintain, but your daily ration shall not be increased in the least; you shall have to work for me as much as you do at present, and also to provide for the maintenance and support of your family." the donkey, after a few moments of reflection, thought it was better to remain as he was; and from that moment he was entirely cured of his inordinate inclination. at the conclusion of the narration, buddha said: "the male donkey was he who has now become ananda; the female donkey, dzanapa-kaliani; and kappaka is now the most excellent phra, who is the teacher of men, nats and brahmas." buddha, whilst at wethalie, went out through the country, and in all the places that he visited preached to the crowds of hearers. it was during one of his benevolent errands that he met with a celebrated pounha, named eggidatta, who with a great many disciples led an ascetic life, after having been formerly, first, the chief pounha of king kothala, and next of his son. buddha earnestly desired the conversion of so distinguished a personage. maukalan was at first despatched to that famous hermit, to attempt to bring him over to his master; but he utterly failed. the reception he at first met with was anything but pleasant. the work was to be done and perfected only by the irresistible eloquence of the great preacher. buddha soon came up to the entrance of eggidatta's cell. he began to upbraid the rathee for teaching his disciples to worship mountains, trees, rivers, and all that exists in nature. he then initiated him in the knowledge of the four great truths. eggidatta, seeing the truth, at once became a convert with all his disciples. when this great spiritual conquest was achieved, buddha returned to radzagio, and spent the third season in the weloowon or bamboo-grove monastery. it was during the three months of the rainy season that buddha imparted, in a more complete manner, to his disciples the knowledge and science which during his peregrinations he had but superficially conveyed to them. at the same time, he carefully trained them up in the practice and observance of those disciplinary regulations which were intended as a means to subdue passions, to estrange them from the world and all its attractions, and to lead a spiritual life. during his stay in the monastery, among the many instructions that he gave to his disciples, i will relate the particulars that he mentioned respecting the former doings and the final conversion of the rahanda tsampooka.[ ] in the days of the buddha kathaba, tsampooka, or rather the being who in the present existence is called by that name, put on the religious dress in the thawatie country. he lived in a fine monastery, and had for his supporters the best and richest people of the place. one day, a rahan, belonging to another country, came to his monastery and begged the favour to be allowed to live therein for some time. the heartless tsampooka denied him admittance into the interior of the building, but tolerated his staying in the verandah during the cold season. the people, however, actuated by better feelings than those of their teacher, brought regularly food for the head of the house, as well as for the stranger, for whom they felt great affection. the spiteful tsampooka could not bear to see the people showing marks of kindness and benevolence towards his hated guest. on one occasion he forgot himself so far as to abuse him, by repeating the following coarse expressions: eat dirt, go naked, and sleep on the bare ground. such an inhuman behaviour soon met with a condign punishment. the wretched tsampooka had at first to endure horrible torments in hell. on his return to the seat of man on earth, he was born from respectable parents, but he was always prone from his infancy to indulge in the lowest habits. he would secretly steal away, and actually satiate the cravings of hunger by eating the most disgusting things; he would not wear clothing, but ran about in a state of nakedness; he would only sleep on the ground. his parents, after many fruitless attempts to correct him, resolved to make him over to the heterodox ascetics. these received him; but he would not eat in the company of his brethren, nor go to beg with them. he, from the moment they were absent, went to devour the refuse he could find. his eccentric and disgusting habits were soon found out, and his new friends said one to the other: "let this man be no longer allowed to live with us. should the disciples of the rahan gaudama hear that one of our company is behaving in such a manner, our brotherhood would become a laughing-stock to them." he was, therefore, expelled from this place. tsampooka went to take his abode on a rock near the place that served as receptacle to the sewers of radzagio. on that rock he remained in the most fatiguing posture; he leaned on his right hand which rested on the rock, and also on his right knee; the left leg was stretched and the left arm raised up. he kept his mouth opened. when the people asked him why he remained with his mouth wide open, as a man who is incessantly drawing air into his lungs, he answered that, refraining from the use of coarse food, he was feeding on air only: when questioned about the singular position of his two legs, he answered, that, were he to stand on both legs, the earth would instantly shake. he had been during fifty-five years in that sad position, when gaudama, moved with compassion at his pitiable condition, went in person to convert him. he began to relate to him all that he had done during former existences, mentioning in particular the sin he had been guilty of towards a brother hermit. at this unexpected declaration, tsampooka humbled himself. buddha then preached to him his law. the repenting tsampooka firmly believed in all that was said to him. he then rose up, and, with a heart overflowing with joy, instantly left his place, followed his new master, and soon became a rahanda. his proficiency in science and virtue was such that he soon occupied a distinguished rank among the members of the assembly. footnotes [ ] in glancing over the episode of thoodaudana's deputation to his son, to invite him to come and visit his native country, the reader is almost compelled to confess that the motive that influenced the king was only inspired by the natural feeling of beholding once more, before he died, him whose fame, spread far and wide, rendered him an object of universal admiration. was the monarch induced by considerations of a higher order to send for buddha? there is no distinct proof in support of this supposition. he was his father, and he but obeyed and followed the impulse of his paternal heart. he entertained a high sense of his son's distinguished qualifications. he had faith in the wonderful signs foretelling his future matchless greatness. he desired, therefore, to honour him in an extraordinary way, on the very spot where he had been born. but he appeared to concern himself very little about the doctrines he was preaching with a success never before equalled. the king exhibited a great amount of worldly-mindedness, until his mind had been enlightened by the oral instructions of the great reformer. it is difficult, if not impossible, to form an accurate idea of the effect produced on the mass of the people by buddha's preachings. we see that eminent and zealous reformer surrounded by thousands of distinguished disciples in the country of radzagio. these converts belonged chiefly to the class of anchorites and philosophers, already alluded to in foregoing notes as existing at the time buddha began to enter the career of preaching. but the great bulk of the populations of the various places he visited seemed to have received for a long time little or no impressions from his discourses. the opponents of buddha, the brahmins in particular, exercised a powerful influence over the public mind. they used it most effectually for retaining their ancient hold over the masses. it required the extraordinary display of the greatest wonders to break through the almost insuperable barriers raised by his enemies. from that period we see the people following buddha, crowding round him, and showing unmistakable signs of belief in him. the only explanation to account for this undeniable result is the philosophical method adopted by buddha in expounding the principles of his system. his mode of proceeding in the gradual development of his ideas retained the abstruseness peculiar to subjects discussed in schools of philosophy. the technical terms so familiar to scholars prove enigmatical to the uninitiated _vulgus_. it takes a long time before maxims elaborated by scholars are so far popularised as to be understood by the unlearned, which in every age and country have always constituted the great mass of the people. if the mind of the generality of men is unable to comprehend at first a system of doctrines, based on metaphysics, we cannot wonder at the slow progress made by the preachings of the great philosopher: but the working of wonders is a tangible fact operating upon the senses of the multitude, eliciting their applauses, and disposing them to yield an implicit faith to all the instructions imparted by the wonderful being that is gifted with supernatural powers. feelings, and not reason, become the foundation of a belief which grows stronger in proportion to the mysterious obscurity that encompasses the proposed dogmas, when supported by wonderful deeds. at the time thoodaudana sent messengers to his son, the great work of conversion was carried on with a most complete and hitherto unheard-of success. the hall of the weloowon monastery was too small for the thousands that flocked thither to hear gaudama. outside its precincts, crowds stood motionless, listening with unabated attention to the discourses that fell from his lips. so crowded was the audience that the messengers had no chance to make their way to the presence of the preacher. struck with the intense attention paid to what was said by their master's son, they too wished to make themselves acquainted with the subjects of the instruction. what was listened to from motives of mere curiosity, soon made a deep impression upon their mind. the magic power of the irresistible eloquence of buddha worked a thorough change almost instantaneously in their dispositions, and they became converts. so perfect was their conversion, that they forgot for the sake of truth the very object of their mission. they became at once members of the assembly, and took rank among the rahans. they attained the state of ariahs, and were foremost among the perfect. the great attainments arrived at by the ariahs communicate to the material portion of their being such an extraordinary amount of amazing virtues or properties, that it becomes so refined as to partake, to a certain degree, of a spiritual nature. hence we see the rahandas going over immense distances through the air, and performing deeds of a supernatural order. the power of working miracles is, therefore, inherent in perfection; and it is greater or smaller in proportion to the degree of perfection possessed by individuals. we find that power expanded in buddha to an unlimited extent, because his mental attainments were boundless. [ ] magatha is a country in the north of india. it occupied nearly the same extent of territory as that now called north behar in bengal. the pali or sacred language of the southern buddhists is often called the language of magatha. hence we may infer that it was the common language of that country. it is probable that the pali language was extensively spoken in the days of gaudama, and it was the channel through which he and his disciples long after him conveyed their religious instructions to the multitude of converts. the pitagat, or the last amended collection of sacred writings, is written in pali, which is looked upon in ceylon, nepaul, burmah, and siam as the language of sacred literature. except in some old manuscripts, where the old square pali letters are used, the burmese employ their common alphabetic characters for writing pali words. the words, having to pass first through a burmese ear, and next being expressed by burmese letters, undergo great changes. to such an extent does the metamorphosis reach, that very often they are scarcely recognisable. the burmans, however, deserve great credit for having, in very many instances, retained in their orthography of pali words letters which, though not at all sounded, indicate to the eye the nature of the word, its origin, and its primitive form. in the southern parts of burmah the pali language is learned but not studied, used, but not understood by the inmates of monasteries. they are all obliged to learn certain formulas of prayers to be daily recited in private, and, on great and solemn occasions, to be chanted aloud in the presence of a crowd of pious hearers. the writer, anxious to acquire some knowledge of the sacred language, often visited those monks, who, among their brethren, enjoyed a certain fame for learning, with the express intention of becoming a humble student, under the direction of one of the best informed of the society. he was thoroughly disappointed to find those who proffered their services in great earnest quite ignorant, and utterly incapable of giving him the least assistance. the burmese have translated in their vernacular tongue most of the sacred writings. in many instances the translation is not exactly what we call interlineary, but it approaches to it as nearly as possible. two, three, or four pali words are written down, and the translation in burmese follows with a profusion of words which often confuses and perplexes the reader; then come again a few other pali words, accompanied also with the translation, and so on throughout the whole work. the art of translating well and correctly from one language into another is not so common as many persons may imagine. in a good translator are required many qualifications which are not to be easily met with, particularly in a burman, to whom we may give credit for knowing well his own tongue, but who, without detracting from his literary attainments, is certainly an indifferent pali scholar. these translations may convey, perhaps, the general meaning of the original, but, as regards the correct meaning of each term, it is a luxury ever denied to the reader of such crude and imperfect compositions. [ ] it is difficult to ascertain exactly the length of the measure called youdzana, formerly used to indicate land distances. it varies from five to twelve english miles. in measuring the distance from radzagio to the brahmin village of nalanda, the birthplace of thariputra, which is one youdzana, general cunningham has found it to be seven miles. this would induce us to hold as certain that at the epoch when fa-hian visited the place, the youdzana was equal to seven miles or forty chinese _li_. but this would not prove that the more ancient youdzana was not shorter than the one used in the time of the chinese pilgrim. several authors maintain that such is the case. it appears, likewise, that the length of that measure of distance has varied with localities and places to such an extent that it has been found in some countries to be equal to more than twelve miles. we believe that when that measure of distance is mentioned in this work, one would not be far from the truth in estimating its length six or seven english miles at the utmost. [ ] the attentive reader of this work cannot fail to remark the general tendencies of buddhism to isolation, retirement, and solitude. in a retired position, the mind is less distracted or dissipated by exterior objects; it possesses a greater share of self-control, and is fitter for the arduous work of attentive reflection and deep meditation. whenever buddha, attended by his followers, reaches a place where he is to stay for a while, a grove outside the city is invariably selected. thither the great preacher retires, as to a beloved solitude. he enjoys it beyond all that can be said. alone with his spiritual family, unconcerned about the affairs of this world, he breathes at ease the pure atmosphere of a complete calm; his undisturbed soul soars freely in the boundless regions of spiritualism. what he has seen and discovered during his contemplative errands he imparts with a placid countenance and a mild voice to his disciples, endeavouring thereby to make them progress in the way of knowledge and perfection. in those solitary abodes of peace buddha was willing to receive all those who wished for instruction. they were all, without distinction of rank or caste, admitted into the presence of him who came professedly to point to men the way to happiness, helping them to disentangle themselves from the trammels of passions. he preached to all the most excellent law. the tendency to retreat and withdrawal from worldly tumult is, in our own days, conspicuous in the care taken by buddhistic monks to have their houses built in some lonely quarter of a town, assigned exclusively for that special purpose, or, as is oftener the case, in fine places at a small distance from the walls. some of those groves, in the centre of which rise the peaceful abodes of rahans, the writer has often seen and much admired. in towns or large villages, where the ground is uneven, the small heights are generally crowned with the dwellings of religious. [ ] the narrative of buddha's reception in his father's royal city suggests two reflections. the first is, that the saying _nemo propheta in suâ patriâ_ was as true in the days of gaudama as it has been in subsequent ages. the mountains of kapilawot had often re-echoed the praises of buddha and the recital of his wonderful doings. the splendid retinue of twenty thousand distinguished converts that attended his person, the hitherto unwitnessed display of miraculous powers, &c.,--all these peculiarly remarkable circumstances seemed more than sufficient to secure for him a distinguished reception among his kinsmen, who ought to have been proud of being connected with him by the ties of relationship. such, however, was not the case. actuated by the lowest feelings of base jealousy, his relatives refused to pay him the respect he was so well entitled to. their wretched obduracy was to be conquered by the awe and fear his miraculous power inspired. the second reflection suggested by the recital of the ceremonies observed on the occasion of buddha's reception in his native country is the truly pleasing fact of seeing the weaker sex appearing in public divested of the shackles put upon it by oriental jealousy. in burmah and siam the doctrines of buddhism have produced a striking, and, to the lover of true civilisation, a most interesting result, viz., established the almost complete equality of the condition of women with that of men. in those countries women are not miserably confined in the interior of their houses, without the remotest chance of ever appearing in public. they are seen circulating freely in the streets; they preside at the _comptoirs_, and hold an almost exclusive possession of the bazaars. their social position is more elevated in every respect than that of the persons of their sex in the regions where buddhism is not the predominating creed. they may be said to be men's companions, and not their slaves. they are active, industrious, and by their labours and exertions contribute their full share towards the maintenance of the family. the marital rights, however, are fully acknowledged by a respectful behaviour towards their lords. in spite of all that has been said by superficial observers, i feel convinced that manners are less corrupted in those countries where women enjoy liberty, than in those where they are buried alive by a barbarous and despotic custom in the grave of an opprobrious and vice-generating slavery. buddhism disapproves of polygamy, but it tolerates divorce. in this respect the habits of the people are of a damnable laxity. polygamy is very rare in burmah among the people. this nefarious and anti-social practice is left to the magnates of the land, from the king down to a petty myowon, who make a part of their greatness consist in placing themselves above public opinion, above moral and religious precepts, for enjoying the unrestrained gratification of the basest appetite. though divorce be a thing of common occurrence, it is looked upon as an imperfection, merely tolerated for the sake of human frailty. [ ] buddhist monks, out of humility and contempt for all worldly things, do not allow hairs or beard to grow. they walk barefooted, wearing a yellow dress of the simplest make. they are bound to live on the alms that are freely bestowed upon them. the regulations of the wini are, in this respect, most explicit, and leave no room for false interpretation. a rahan, having renounced the world, and divested himself of all worldly property, is bound by his professional vows to rely for his daily food on what he may obtain by begging. hence the appellatio of bickus, or mendicants, always bestowed on them by gaudama, whenever he addresses them in particular on certain points regarding their profession. in burmah, as soon as the day begins to dawn, a swarm of yellow-dressed monks sally forth from their abode with the patta under the left arm, and perambulate the streets in quest of food. they never ask for anything; they accept what is voluntarily tendered to them, without uttering a single word of thanks, or even looking at their generous benefactors. this action of bestowing alms on the rahans is deemed a most meritorious one. the offerer, therefore, becomes liberal, not on account of the person he is assisting, but because of the abundant merits he hopes to derive from the act. this notion agrees very well with the leading tenets of buddhism. [ ] the answer of buddha to his royal father is a most remarkable one, and deserves the attention of the observer. the great moralist does away with all the prerogatives man may derive from birth, rank, and riches. law alone can confer titles of true greatness and genuine nobility. the fervent and zealous observers of the law are alone entitled to the respect of their fellow-men. the begging of alms may be, in the eyes of worldlings, a low and mean action, but it becomes a most dignified one, because it is enforced by the law. this lofty principle boldly establishes the superiority of virtue upon the strongest basis, and sanctions the moral code he was destined to publish to men and saddle on their conscience. the criterion of all that is good, excellent, praiseworthy, and meritorious is no more to depend on the arbitrary and very often erroneous views of men, but must rest upon the immutable tenets of the eternal law, discovered, revived, and published by the omniscient buddha. this truth, like a flash of light, illuminated the king's mind, and, at this first preaching of his son, he attained the first of the four states of perfection. the princes thamadat and thoodaudana boast to have descended from are, according to buddhistic sacred books, the princes who were elected to hold supreme power at the very moment the words _mine_ and _thine_ began to be heard amongst men, after they had eaten the rice called tsale, and become subject to passions, that is to say, at the origin of society, in the beginning of the world. the kings of burmah, down to the present occupant of the throne, who are descended, in their opinion, from the kapilawot line of kings, lay claim to the same distinction. the writer has heard the present king of burmah very coolly stating as a matter of fact, which no one could think of contradicting, that he was descended from the thamadat's royal line. the princess yathaudara, mentioned in this narrative, had been the wife of buddha, ere he had withdrawn into solitude and renounced the world. a son had just been born to him when he left his father's palace. his name was raoula. the doctrine of the influence of merits gathered during former existences is forcibly illustrated in the case of yathaudara, who, unmindful of the position she occupied in former years, did not hesitate to fling herself at buddha's feet, acknowledging him to be worthy of all honour and veneration. her former merits disposed her to view in him, who had been her husband, the extraordinary personage who was to lead men through the path of virtue to the deliverance. [ ] nanda was buddha's younger brother, or rather half-brother. his mother was patzapati, the younger sister of maia. since buddha had renounced the world, nanda had become the presumptive heir to the crown of kapilawot. his conversion grieved the king much, who, to prevent the recurrence of such an event, exacted from the great reformer that in after times no one could be admitted into the society of the perfect, without having previously obtained the consent of his parents; failing such a condition, the act of admission should be considered as null and void. hence, we read in the book of ordination, or admittance to the dignity of rahan, that the person directed by the president of the assembly to examine the candidate never omits to inquire of him whether he has obtained the consent of his parents. the conversion of raoula followed that of nanda. of this new and distinguished convert no mention is made afterwards in the course of this work. he must, in all likelihood, have become a celebrated member of the assembly, as he was trained up to the functions and duties of his profession by the greatest and most renowned disciples, such as maukalan, thariputra, and kathaba. in the history of buddhism, the dzetawon monastery is not inferior in celebrity to that of weloowon. therein gaudama announced during a certain night the thirty-six beatitudes of the law to a nat that had come and requested him to make him acquainted with the most perfect points of his law. in the division of the scriptures called thoots, or sermons, we see that the most important have been delivered in the hall of that monastery. here is another instance of a donation of landed property to a religious corporation. in the first case, the gift had been made to him and to his actual followers. but in this circumstance, phra desires the rich and pious benefactor to make the donation, not only in behalf of self and the present assembly, but also in that of all future members, who might resort to this place. in a buddhistic point of view, we may conclude that the advice given to the donor was intended as a means of multiplying the sum of the merits of his liberality, which must be commensurate with the number of the individuals to whom it is designed to be extended. according to the principle respecting property, which from immemorial time has prevailed under almost all despotic governments in asia, which recognises the head of the state as the sole, real, and absolute owner of the soil, it is evident that the act of donation was, legally speaking, a declaration or a statement of the disposal an individual made of the rights such as he had them, viz., those of use, in favour of a religious body. the landed property, thus conferred, acquired a kind of sacredness which preserved it from the grasp of even the most rapacious ruler. on the other hand, the religious body had no right or power whatsoever to sell or dispose of that property. in a corporation constituted as the assembly of the disciples of buddha was, and is in our own days, the society alone could have the possession and management of immovable properties given to monasteries. donations of this kind must have stood good as long as there were members of the buddhistic religious family willing and ready to maintain their rights. nothing short of a complete revolution in the political state of the country, or the prolonged absence of the individuals vested with the right of occupation, could put an end to the effect of those deeds of donation. in burmah, the buddhist monks possess nothing beyond the ground upon which stands the monastery. from certain inscriptions found in the midst of the ruins of the temples at pagan, it is evident that in the palmy days of that city donations of landed properties, such as paddy-fields, fruit-trees, bullocks, and peasants, were made to monasteries and temples. but for the last three or four hundred years, no vestiges of such deeds have ever been found. so far as i have been able to make inquiries, i am not aware that the order has ever become possessor of lands. in ceylon such is not the case, at least was not when the english occupied the island. extensive tracts of valuable lands were in the hands of the talapoins, who thereby obtained over the people the twofold influence conferred by wealth and religion. [ ] ananda, whose conversion is here mentioned, was the son of amitaudana, a brother of king thoodaudana, and, therefore, first cousin to gaudama. he is one of the best known disciples of the celebrated philosopher of kapilawot. he has gained his well-earned fame, less by the shining attainments of his intellect than by the amiable qualities of a loving heart. he bore to buddha the most affectionate regard and the warmest attachment from the very beginning of his conversion. the master repaid the love of the disciple by tokens of a sincere esteem and tender affection. though it was a long period afterwards ere ananda was officially appointed to minister unto the personal wants of buddha, yet the good dispositions of his excellent heart prompted him to serve buddha on all occasions, and in every way that was agreeable to him. he became the medium of intercourse between his beloved master and all those that approached him. when he had to communicate orders or give directions to the religious, or when some visitors desired to wait on him, ananda was the person who transmitted all orders, and ushered visitors into the presence of the great preacher. dewadat was both first cousin to buddha and his brother-in-law. his father was thouppabudha, maia's brother. he was brother of the princess yathaudara, who had married our gaudama, when he was crown prince of kapilawot. hereafter, we shall have the opportunity of seeing that his moral dispositions were very different from those of the amiable ananda. [ ] the story of eggidatta gives us an insight into one of the tenets which was held by that ascetic. his interlocutor reproached him with worshipping mountains, trees, forests, rivers, and the heavenly bodies. from the expressions made use of by the burmese translator, the writer is inclined to believe that a direct allusion is made to pantheistic opinions. we know that most of the indian schools of philosophy have based their various systems of metaphysics upon that most erroneous foundation. according to pantheists, this world is not distinct from the essence of god; all that exists is but a manifestation or a development of the substance of god. this world is not the work of god, existing as distinct from its maker, but it is god manifesting himself substantially in all things. who could, then, wonder at the conduct of tsampooka? he worshipped god, or rather that portion of the supreme being he saw in the great and mighty subjects that surrounded him and attracted his notice. spinoza, in the seventeenth century, and his unfortunately too numerous followers in this century, have recast into a hundred different moulds the pantheistic ideas of the hindu philosophers, and offer to the intelligence of their hearers and readers, through an almost unintelligible language, the same deadly food which has finally produced on the hindu mind the sad results which we witness. if we were better acquainted with the variety of doctrines which the hindu philosophers have exhibited in the field of metaphysics, we would be soon convinced that the modern metaphysicians, who have placed themselves out of the pale of revelation, have not advanced one step in that science, and that the divergence in their opinions is but a faithful representation of the confusion which for more than two thousand years prevailed on the banks of the ganges among their predecessors in the same speculative studies. it appears that tsampooka was in his days what the jogies or hindoo penitents are up to our time. he remained on his rock, in the most difficult position, for the space of fifty-five years, exhibiting himself to the crowd, and aiming at winning their admiration by the incredible sufferings that he voluntarily submitted to. his apparent sanctity was made up of very doubtful materials. he passed himself off for a man who could remain without eating, and who was gifted with supernatural powers. plain humility, which is nothing but the result of the true knowledge of self, was not the favourite virtue of our spiritual quack. chapter ix. _a rich man of thawattie, named anatapein, becomes a convert -- story of dzewaha -- he cures buddha of a painful distemper -- the people of wethalie send a deputation to buddha -- digression on the manner buddha daily spent his time -- settling of a quarrel between the inhabitants of kaulia and those of kapilawot -- new converts are strengthened in their faith -- thoodaudana's death in the arms of his son -- queen patzapati and many noble ladies are elevated to the rank of rahaness -- conversion of kema, the first queen of king pimpathara -- heretics near thawattie are confounded by the display of miraculous powers -- buddha goes to the seat of thawadeintha, to preach the law to his mother._ when buddha was in the country of radzagio, a certain rich merchant, named anatapein, came to radzagio, with five hundred carts loaded with the most precious goods, and took his lodging in the house of an intimate friend. whilst living with his friend, he heard that gaudama had become a buddha. suddenly, he was seized with an earnest desire of seeing him and hearing his doctrine. on a certain day, he rose at an early hour, and perceived, reflected through the lattices of the window, some rays of an uncommon brightness. he went in the direction of the light to the place where buddha was preaching the law. he listened to it with great attention, and, at the end of the discourse, he obtained the state of thautapan. two days after, he made a great offering to buddha and to the assembly, and requested him to come to the country of thawattie. the request was granted. the distance to thawattie is forty-five youdzanas. anatapein spent enormous sums that one monastery should be erected at each youdzana distance. when buddha was approaching, the pious merchant arranged as follows for the reception of the distinguished visitor, and presenting to him a splendid monastery called dzetawon, which he had made ready for him. he sent first his son, richly attired, with five hundred followers, belonging to the richest families; then followed his two daughters with five hundred girls, all decked with the most costly ornaments. every one carried flags of five different colours. these were followed by five hundred dames, having the rich man's wife at their head, each carrying a pitcher of water. last of all, came anatapein, with five hundred followers, all wearing new dresses. gaudama let the crowd walk in front, and he followed attended by all the rahans. when he entered the grove, he appeared as beautiful as the peacock's tail when completely expanded. anatapein asked gaudama how he wished the donation should be made and effected? "let the monastery be offered," said buddha, "to all the rahans that may come in future to this place from what quarter soever." thereupon, the rich man, holding a golden vessel of water, poured its contents on the hands of buddha, saying: "i present this monastery to buddha and to all the rahans that may come hereafter to reside therein." buddha said prayers and thanks in token of his accepting the offering. seven days were devoted to making this great offering, and during four months uninterrupted rejoicings went on in commemoration of this great and solemn donation. for the purchase of the place, and the expenses of the ceremony, enormous sums were lavished. during the era of former buddhas this very place had always been purchased and offered to them and their disciples. [_n.b._--here is found narrated in full the history of a celebrated physician named dzewaka. as such story has no reference whatever to buddha's career, i will give but a very succinct account of it.] at a certain time,[ ] when buddha lived in the city of radzagio, the country of wethalie was made rich, gay, and attractive by the presence of a famous courtesan. a nobleman of radzagio, who had just returned from that country, narrated to the king all that he had seen at wethalie, and induced the monarch to set up, in his own kingdom, some famous courtesan, who would be skilful in music and dancing, as well as attractive by the form and accomplishments of her person. such a person having been procured, she was, by the munificence of the king, placed on a most splendid footing, and one hundred pieces of silver were to be paid for each evening's visit. the king's son being rather assiduous in his visits to her place, she became pregnant. aware of her state, the courtesan affected to be sick until her confinement. she directed her servant to throw out the newly-born infant, on a heap of rubbish, in some lonely and distant place. the next morning the king's son, going out with some attendants, chanced to pass close to the spot where the infant had been deposited. his attention having been attracted by the noise of crows hovering close by, he went to see what it was. to his great surprise, he saw an infant, yet breathing, half buried in rubbish. taken with the beauty of this little creature, the prince ordered the child to be carried to the palace, where he was brought up with the greatest care and attention. he was named dzewaka, which means life, because the prince, when he found him, inquired if he was alive. the young lad, having reached the years of discretion, was unwilling to remain in the palace, not occupied with any business. in order to afford relief and comfort to his fellow-creatures, he resolved to study medicine. he repaired to benares, placed himself under the direction of a famous physician, and soon became eminent by his extreme proficiency in the profession. having left his master, and begun practice in his own name and for his own account, dzewaka worked the most wonderful cures, which soon procured to him unbounded wealth and an extraordinary reputation. dzewaka was at the height of his fame, when, on a certain day, buddha happened to be troubled with bellyache. he called ananda and said that he wanted some medicine to relieve him from pain. ananda went to the place where lived the celebrated dzewaka, and informed him of buddha's complaint. the doctor ordered first a rubbing of oil, which was to be repeated three days after. this remedy not having a full effect, dzewaka took three lily flowers, whereupon he spread several powders, and came to buddha, saying, "most glorious phra, here is one lily flower, please to smell it; this will be followed by ten motions. here is a second one; the smelling thereof will produce a similar effect; and this one will cause the same result." having handed over the three flowers, the doctor paid his respects to buddha, turned to the right, and left the monastery. when he was crossing the gate, he thought within himself, "i have given a medicine calculated to cause thirty motions, but as the complaint is rather of a serious and obstinate character, twenty-nine motions only will take place; a warm bath would be required to produce the thirtieth;" and with this reflection he departed. buddha, who saw all that passed in the doctor's mind, called ananda and directed him to prepare a warm bath. a little while after, dzewaka came back to buddha, and explained to him his prescription. buddha was soon restored to his former health, and dzewaka told him that the people were preparing to make him offerings. maukalan went to the son of thauna, a rich man, to get some rice from a field that had been watered with milk. the owner gave rice to maukalan and urged him to partake of it, assuring him that there was some other in reserve for buddha; maukalan assented. after the meal, his patta was cleaned with perfumed water, and filled with the choicest food. maukalan took it to buddha, who ate it. afterwards he preached the law to the king and to an immense crowd; amongst them was thauna's son. they all obtained the first degree of perfection, but thauna reached at once the state of arahat. dzewaka came again to buddha's presence, and requested the favour of presenting him with two splendid pieces of cloth, which he had received in present from a king whom he had cured of a most distressing distemper. moreover, he wished that the rahans should be allowed to receive clothes of a better sort than those they were wont to wear. buddha received the two pieces and preached the law to the donor, who attained the state of thautapan. dzewaka, rising from his place, wheeled to the right and departed. a little while after, gaudama called the rahans and said to them, "beloved bickus, now i give permission to the faithful to make offerings of cloth for your dress.[ ] whoever is pleased with his present dress, let him wear it; whoever is disposed to receive some other from the people, let him do so. but i must praise you for having hitherto been satisfied with the ancient dress." the people of the city having heard of the permission given to the rahans, offered at once more than one hundred thousand pieces of cloth. their example was followed by the people of the country, who made offerings to the same amount. a little while after this, buddha received a deputation from the wethalie people, inviting him to visit their country. here is the reason of the invitation. the country was very rich and flourishing. the malla princes governed it each in turn for a certain space of time. on a sudden a terrific pestilence desolated the land, which was in a short time strewed with dead bodies in every direction. in the midst of so great a calamity some advised to propitiate the nats, by making offerings to them; others said that recourse must be had to the great teachers; a third party insisted upon calling to their aid the great gaudama, who had appeared in this world for the purpose of saving mankind. the last opinion prevailed. having ascertained that he lived at radzagio, a great number of princes, pounhas, and nobles went to radzagio, with great presents for king pimpathara, to induce him to allow the great teacher to come to their country. the object of their mission having become known, buddha agreed to go. he sallied forth from the weloowon monastery, attended by the king as far as the southern bank of the ganges. having reached the northern one, he was received with every possible mark of the highest respect and veneration. as soon as he set his feet in the country, a heavy rain fell which almost deluged the land. the water carried away the dead bodies. the atmosphere was purified, the pestilence ceased, and all the sick recovered. on the fifth day after the full moon of nayon (june), buddha having conferred such a favour to the people of wethalie, left that country and returned to radzagio, which he reached on the full moon of watso (july), just in time to spend the fourth season in the weloowon monastery. here is inserted a short sketch of the manner in which buddha spent his days during the rainy season, as the translator has found in one of the manuscripts before him. each day was divided into five parts, and a certain occupation was reserved to each part. . buddha generally rose at an early hour, a little after daybreak, washed his face, rinsed his mouth, and dressed. he then retired into a private apartment. with his all-seeing eyes, he glanced over all creatures, carefully examined the amount of their merits and demerits, and the real nature of their dispositions. the reason for his taking a survey of the state and condition of all beings was to ascertain the dispositions of the various beings, and discern those who were prepared to hear the preaching of truth from those who, on account of their demerits, were as yet unprepared for receiving beneficially for themselves such a great favour. when this was done, he put on his full canonical dress, and, with the mendicant's pot under his arm, he sallied forth in quest of his food. he invariably directed his steps towards those places where he knew that his preachings would be heard with beneficial results. sometimes he went alone; at other times he was attended with a certain number of his disciples. his countenance bespoke an unaffected modesty and an inimitable mildness. occasionally he allowed a display of wonders to take place. musical instruments emitted, of themselves, sweet tunes, which, revealing to the people the coming of buddha, rejoiced their heart and disposed them to bestow abundant alms, and to hear the preaching of the law. some of the hearers became upasakas, others thautapans, &c., &c., agreeably to every one's disposition. then he returned to his monastery. . as soon as he had arrived, he washed his feet, and during the ablution he had his disciples assembled round him, and said to them, "beloved bickus, be ever watchful and attentive, with a mind ever prone to reflection. it is exceedingly difficult to obtain the nature of man,[ ] to hear the law, to become perfect, to obtain the state of rahanda, and to arrive to the condition of a buddha." he then pointed out to them some subjects of meditation. many of the disciples devoted themselves to mental labour; some combined together manual and mental exertions; others withdrew to lonely places at the foot of certain trees, and into the caves of neighbouring hills. buddha then took his meal, and retired for awhile alone into his own private apartment. when he arose a little after mid-day, he anew contemplated all beings, and fixed his attention on those that were to come and receive his instructions. he soon came out, and at once began to impart instructions to all those that had arrived, from what place soever. when the instruction was completed, the people withdrew. . after the people's departure, buddha bathed and took a walk in the open verandah of the monastery. his mat, cushion, &c., were spread in a becoming and open place. the rahans hastened at that hour to come and communicate freely the result of their mental exertions. when they wanted any explanation, they were encouraged to put him questions, which were instantly answered; and they received submissively the answers which he condescended to give to them. this exercise lasted until it was dark. the disciples retired from their master's presence. . after their departure, the nats and other celestial beings were admitted. buddha conversed with and instructed them until nearly midnight. . buddha then walked awhile to relieve his limbs from extreme lassitude, and went into his apartment to take some rest. he rose very early, and began to review the beings who, during the days of former buddhas, had distinguished themselves by their exertions in the path of virtue and in the high mental attainments. during one of his usual benevolent errands through the country, gaudama converted ouggasena, his wife and companions. here is an abridged narrative of that event. ouggasena was the son of a rich man. in the time of his youth a company of comedians came to radzagio and exhibited during seven days in the presence of king pimpathara and his court. our young man, along with many of his companions, attended the exhibition. on a sudden, he became passionately enamoured of a rope dancing-girl, who performed many feats with accomplished grace and uncommon address. despite his parents' remonstrances and entreaties, he sacrificed to his ungoverned passion all considerations, and he married the damsel. in his new situation, he had no alternative but to learn the art of rope-dancing, tumbling feats, and standing in various attitudes on the extremity of posts or masts, sometimes sixty cubits high. during his noviciate, he had to bear the laughter and taunts of his wife and of his new friends. by dint of exertion he became proficient in the art of performing tumblers' feats with a surprising agility. one day it was announced at the sound of the drum that ouggasena was to perform on the top of a post sixty cubits high. an immense crowd of citizens went out with great eagerness to see the performance. when the amusements had just begun, buddha happened to pass by with a number of disciples. he desired maukalan to go ahead, and begin to preach to ouggasena. soon he came up himself in person, and converted the juggler, who forthwith descended from his mast, prostrated himself before buddha, and asked to be admitted as a member of the assembly. after further instructions he obtained the science of rahanda. his wife and all the company became likewise converts.[ ] buddha had now fulfilled the promise he had formerly made to the ruler of radzagio, to spend three consecutive seasons in his royal city. he went over to the wethalie country, and fixed his residence in a fine place, in the midst of a forest of sala-trees, called mahawon. whilst he enjoyed himself in that place, a quarrel took place between a portion of the people of kappila and that of kaulia, who lived on both banks of the little river rauhani. the cause of the dispute was the irrigation of paddy-fields. the small river had been duly barred, but on account of an unusual drought there was not water enough to supply the quantity required for the fields on both banks. one party wanted to have all the water, the other demurred. hence a dispute arose which, wildfire-like, spread from the banks of the stream all over both countries. a general appeal to arms ensued, and, in a short time, both armies stood facing each other in battle array. at an early hour buddha, having risen from his couch, cast, as usual, a glance over all beings. he soon saw the feud that existed between the country of his birth and that of kaulia. moved with compassion over the miseries which that people, blinded by a furious passion, were bringing upon themselves, he went through the air, and stood over and above the stream which separated the two armies. rays of glory, beaming out of his person, soon attracted general attention. both parties laid down their arms and prostrated themselves, worshipping him. he said to them, "princes and warriors, hearken to my words. which is the most valuable, a small quantity of water or the lives of countless beings, and, in particular, the lives of princes?" they answered, "of course the lives of princes and warriors are most valuable." "if so," retorted buddha, "lay aside your passion, conquer your anger, throw away your weapons of destruction, love each other, and live in peace." both parties, by a low and prolonged tone of voice, expressed their deep regret at what they had done, and their sincere desire to follow his instructions. he preached to them the law in such an impressive and convincing manner that on the spot two hundred and fifty noblemen of kappila and the same number of kaulia asked for admittance among the members of the assembly. the instruction they had heard, and which had determined their vocation, had not had time to cast deep roots in their hearts. they soon regretted their home, their families, and their former gay life. buddha, who saw what was going on in their souls, said to them, "will you come with me, and enjoy yourselves on the green banks of the beautiful lake kontala?" they joyfully accepted the proposal. by the power inherent in his nature, buddha took them through the air, and soon reached the lake. they alighted on its banks. delighted with the beautiful scenery that surrounded them, and ignorant of the new objects which they saw, they interrogated buddha about the names of the new plants and fruits which they perceived. gaudama condescended to answer all their questions. while thus engaged they saw the king of the birds of the lake resting on the branch of a tree. on a sudden five hundred birds of the same kind came crowding round their chief, and, by their cries and various attitudes, testified the happiness which they felt at being in his company. the new converts wondered at the admirable instinct of those birds, and communicated to each other their mutual surprise. as an accomplished teacher, buddha availed himself of the opportune moment, and said to them in a mild manner, "beloved disciples, what you see now and admire is the lively and true image of my family." so effectually was the instruction conveyed that they all at once became thautapan, and no longer thought of returning into the world. by the virtue inherent in their new position, they were enabled to fly through the air, and they returned with buddha into the mahawon residence. on their arrival, buddha began his fifth season in that same place. it was in the middle of that season, in the month of wakhaong (august), that he heard that his father had been seized with a violent distemper, which left him no rest either day or night. sensible of his approaching end, thoodaudana ardently wished to see his son for the last time. in the morning, at the hour when buddha was reviewing all beings, and examining with a compassionate heart their respective condition, he saw the sad and painful position of his royal father. he instantly summoned, by the means of ananda, a select band of disciples, and flying through the air, alighted with his company in front of the palace. without a moment's delay he ascended to the upper apartments, and sat on a place prepared for him, near the head of the couch upon which lay the royal patient. buddha, recollecting himself awhile, and then laying one of his hands on his father's head, said, "by the virtue of the merits i have acquired during countless existences, by the power of the fruits gathered during forty-nine days round the tree bodi, let this head be forthwith relieved from all pain." it happened so in the twinkling of an eye. nan, or nanda, the younger brother of buddha, the son of his aunt patzapati, holding the right hand of his father, said with a fervent earnestness, "by the merits that i have obtained at the feet of buddha, let this right hand be freed from all pain." and perfect cure instantly followed. ananda, phra's first cousin, held the left arm. thariputra laid his hand on the back, maukalan grasped the feet. all of them with a similar faith uttered such like prayers, and the same happy result invariably followed. thoodaudana was delivered from all pain. but he continued to remain very weak. buddha, profiting by that favourable opportunity, preached to his father the law of mutability, and gave him many and truly seasonable instructions on that most important subject. with such a persuasive language did he expound this favourite doctrine that his father became at once a rahanda. at the same time he distinctly informed him that seven days hence the end of his life would inevitably happen. thoodaudana, perfectly prepared for the new change, that is to say, for death, by his son's instructions, and thoroughly resigned, saw before him the true state of neibban, and said, "now i clearly perceive the instability of all things. i am free from all passions. i am completely disentangled from the trammels of existence." rocking himself in the bosom of these comforting truths, he spent happily the few days he had yet to live. on the last day, and for the last time, he paid his respects to buddha by worshipping him. sitting then on his couch, the royal patient humbly asked pardon in the presence of all his attendants for all offences he had committed by thoughts, words, and deeds. having performed this act of sincere humility, he consoled his wife patzapati, who sat bathed in tears, as well as the other members of the royal family, and several times repeated before them the great truth--that all beings, when they come into existence, have within, inherent in their nature, a principle of death that hurries them to their end and dissolution; that the same principle that has brought near and united beings together is always opposed, and at last overpowered by the opposite one that tends to separate them. he then placidly lay on his couch, and gently breathed his last in the day of the full moon of wakhaong, on a saturday, at the rising of the sun, in the year of the eetzana, era , at the advanced age of ninety-seven years. gaudama, after his father's demise, when all the rahans were assembled round the deathbed, said to them: "beloved bickus, behold my father's remains. he is no longer what he was a little while ago. he has undergone the change. no one can offer an effectual and lasting resistance to the principle of death, inherent in all beings. be diligent in the practice of good works: follow steadily the four roads leading to perfection." after this lecture, he consoled his aunt patzapati and the other ladies of the court, who, with dishevelled hair, were wailing aloud and striking their breasts. he minutely explained to them the consequences resulting from the great principle of mutability, which pervades all beings and infallibly leads them to destruction by the separation of their constitutive parts. when the instruction was finished, buddha directed kathaba to go and prepare the spot on which the funeral and cremation of the corpse were to take place. aided by thariputra, he washed the corpse, which was subsequently placed in great state, on a magnificent and lofty catafalco, raised for the purpose. the princes of thekkara, thoopawa, and weritzara, came to attend the royal funeral and offer presents. the corpse was carried processionally through the principal streets of the city at the sound of all musical instruments. buddha, in person, received the corpse, and laid it on the funeral pile. to no one else would he leave the honourable and pious task of setting fire to it. on that occasion there took place an indescribable outburst of wailings and lamentings. the impassible buddha preached the law on that occasion. he left aside all praises in behalf of the deceased. he was satisfied with announcing the law; and countless beings, both among men and nats, obtained the deliverance. after the loss of her royal husband, queen patzapati, profoundly impressed with all that she had seen and heard, desired to renounce the world and embrace a religious mode of life. for that purpose she came to the presence of buddha, and asked three times the permission to follow her inclination and become rahaness. three times the solicited favour was denied her. buddha then left his own native country and returned to wethalie, fixing his abode in the gutagaia-thala monastery, in the mahawon forest. buddha had not been long in this place when he had to grant the request which he at first refused to his aunt patzapati. the wives of the princes of the kappila and kaulia countries, who, to the number of , had recently renounced the world, desired also to follow the example set before them by their husbands. they went to the queen's apartments and communicated to her their design, entreating her to help them in obtaining the object of their wishes. patzapati not only promised them her support, but expressed the determination to join their company. as a token of the sincerity and earnestness of their resolution, all the ladies, without the least hesitation, cut their beautiful black hair, put on a dress in accordance with their pious intentions, and resolutely set out on foot in the direction of the wethalie country. unused to such bodily exertions, the pious pilgrims suffered much during their long journey. at last, worn out with fatigue, covered with dust, they arrived near the mahawon monastery. they respectfully stopped at the gate, and requested an interview with ananda. the latter, having ascertained from their own mouth the object of their pious and fatiguing errand, hastened into the presence of buddha, and entreated him to grant the earnest and praiseworthy demand of his aunt and of the other ladies, her companions. on hearing the request, buddha, for a while, remained silent, as if deliberating on the answer he had to give. then he said: "ananda, it is not expedient to allow women to embrace the religious state; otherwise my institutions shall not last long." ananda, undismayed by that reply, respectfully reminded buddha of all the favours he had received from patzapati, who had nursed and brought him up with the utmost care and tenderness, from the day his mother died, when he was but seven days old, and represented with a fervent earnestness the good dispositions of the pious postulants. buddha's scruples were overcome by the persuasive language of the faithful ananda. he asked whether women could observe the eight precepts: and added, that in case they would consent to bind themselves to a correct observance of them, they might be admitted as members of the assembly. fully satisfied with the answer he had obtained, the venerable ananda saluted buddha, and hastened to the gate of the monastery, where his return was impatiently awaited. on hearing the good news, patzapati, in the name of her companions, spoke to ananda: "venerable ananda, we all rejoice that the favour so often asked for has been at last granted unto us. as a young maid, who has bathed, and washed her hair, is anxiously desirous to put on her fine ornaments, as she receives with delight the beautiful and fragrant nosegays that are offered to her, so we are longing for the eight precepts, and wish for admittance into the assembly." they all promised to observe the rules of their new profession to the end of their lives. yathaudara and dzanapada-kaliani were among these converts. they all, owing to their former meritorious works, became subsequently rahandas. one of the new female converts seemed to have retained as yet a certain admiration of and fondness for her handsome features, and secretly prided herself on her beauty. buddha, who quickly perceived the latent enemy lurking in the folds of her heart, resorted to the following expedient to correct her. on a certain day, when the proud and vain woman was in his presence, he created in an instant a consummate beauty, who as much exceeded her in perfection of form as the snow-white swan surpasses the black crow. whilst she looked on this suddenly appearing rival with somewhat jealous eyes, buddha caused the beauty of his creation to appear on a sudden very old, with a wrinkled face and an emaciated frame, and to exhibit on her person all the various and disgusting inroads which the most loathsome diseases make on the human body. the change acted as an electric shock on the young religious woman. when gaudama perceived the change, and that she was so horrified at such a sight that she was nearly fainting, he said to her: "behold, my daughter, the faithful foreshowing of what shall inevitably happen to that form you are so proud of." he had scarcely spoken those words, when she was instantly and for ever cured of her vanity. buddha left wethalie and went on the makula mountain, where he spent his sixth season. during his stay in that place thousands of people were converted and obtained the deliverance. at the end of that season, buddha went to radzagio, and stayed in the weloowon monastery. it was at that time that kema, the first queen of king pimpathara, proud of her rank, youth, and beauty, was at last converted. up to that time she had obstinately refused to see buddha and hear his doctrine. on a certain day, the queen went to visit a garden which was in the neighbourhood of the weloowon grove. by a contrivance of the king, her husband, she was brought, almost against her will, into the presence of buddha, who worked out the spiritual cure of her foolish vanity by a process similar to the one above mentioned. he caused a beautiful female of his creation to pass successively, in the queen's presence, through the various stages of old age, disease, and death. her mind having been thus well prepared to hear his instructions, buddha gave her a lengthened explanation of the miseries attending the body. it had the desirable effect to convert her in so perfect a manner that she entered into the current of perfection, and became thautapan. after having obtained the consent of her lord, she was, upon her pressing solicitations, admitted into the religious order. she became a rahanda, and among the female members of the assembly she ranked as the disciple of the right. such a glorious charge was owing to her former merits. on a certain day, a rich man of the country of radzagio went to enjoy himself on the banks of the river ganges. that man was not a disciple of buddha, nor did he hold the doctrines of the opposite party. he steered a middle course between both doctrines, with a mind disposed, however, to embrace such opinions as should appear to him based on the best and strongest evidence. chance offered him a favourable opportunity to acknowledge the superiority of buddha over his opponents. he saw a log of sandal-wood floating on the stream, took it up, and had a beautiful patta made of it. when finished, he wrote upon it these words, "he who can fly in the air let him take it." the patta was raised on the top of a succession of hampers, tied together, and sixty cubits high. some heretics living in the neighbourhood asked on successive occasions the rich man to get down the patta for them; he answered them that he would give it only to him who by flight could reach it. the head man of those heretics feigned to prepare himself to fly; but when he was extending his arms, and raising one of his feet, his disciples, according to a preconcerted plan, seized him, saying, "it is not becoming that you should exert yourself for such a trifle." but the wily rich man could not be thus deceived; he persisted in his former resolution, and for six days resisted all their entreaties. on the seventh day maukalan happened to go to that place in search of his food. he was informed of all that had just happened. he was, moreover, told that the rich man and all his family would become disciples under him who could by flight possess himself of the sandal-wood patta. maukalan was ready, for the glory of buddha, to raise himself in the air, but his companion refused to allow him to do it, saying that such an easy work could easily be accomplished by one less advanced in merits. maukalan agreed to his proposal. whereupon entering into the fourth state of dzan, his companion rose in the air, carrying with the toes of one of his feet an enormous rock three-quarters of a youdzana wide. the whole space between him and the bystanders appeared darkened. every one was half dead with fear, lest, perhaps, it should fall over his head. maukalan's companion had the rock split into two parts, and his person then appeared to the view of the assembled crowd. after having during a whole day exhibited such a mighty power, he caused the rock to fall on the place he had taken it from. the rich man bade him come down, fully satisfied with the display of such power. the sandal-wood patta was taken down, filled with the best rice, and presented to him. the rahan received it and went back to his monastery. many persons living at a distance from the place where the wonder had been exhibited, followed him to the monastery, begging him to show some other signs. as they approached the monastery, buddha hearing the noise, inquired what it was. he was informed of all the particulars of the event that had just taken place. he called the rahan into his presence, took the patta, had it broken into pieces and reduced to dust.[ ] he then forbade the rahan ever to make such a display of his power. the heretics soon heard of the prohibition issued by gaudama to his disciples. they thought that no one would dare to match them in the display of wonders, and that they could easily ascertain their superiority over him. the ruler of radzagio, hearing of this news, went to buddha and inquired as to his motive for such a prohibition. buddha told him that the prohibition regarded his disciples only, but not himself. the heretics, informed of this, said, "what will become of us? gaudama himself will show signs." they held a council among themselves as to what was to be done. gaudama told the king that in four months he would make a grand display of his miraculous power in the country of thawattie, as it was in that place that all former buddhas had in former ages showed signs. the heretics from that day never lost sight of buddha for a moment; they followed him day and night. they gave orders that a large and extensive covered place should be prepared for them, where they might show their power and outshine that of the rahan gaudama. buddha having said that he would select the spot where a white mango-tree stood for the scene of his miracles, the heretics caused the total destruction of all mango-trees in that direction. on the full moon of tabaong (february), gaudama left radzagio, attended by a large retinue of disciples. he went to preach in different parts. on the seventh of the waxing moon of watso he entered the country of thawattie. a gardener gave him by way of present a large mango fruit. ananda prepared the fruit and buddha ate it. when this was done, the stone was handed to ananda with an injunction to plant it in a place prepared to receive it. when planted, buddha washed his hands over it, and on a sudden there sprang up a beautiful white mango-tree, fifty cubits high, with large branches loaded with blossoms and fruits. to prevent its being destroyed, a guard was set near it by the king's order. dismayed at such a wonderful sign, the heretics fled in every direction to conceal their shame and confusion. their head man, named pourana, took from a husbandman a large jar with a rope, tied up the vessel with one extremity of the rope, passed the other round his neck, and flinging first the jar and next himself into the river, where the water was very deep, he was drowned, and went to the lowest hell, called awidzi. buddha created in the air an immense road, reaching east and west to the extremities of the world. when the sun began to verge towards the west, he thought the time had come to ascend to that road in the presence of an immense crowd, that covered an area of thirty-six youdzanas, and there make a display of his wonderful powers. he was on the point of crossing the threshold of the building that had been erected for him by the care of nats, when a female convert, named garamie, who had become an anagam, came into his presence, and after the usual prostrations said to him, "glorious buddha, it is not necessary that you should take the trouble of working wonders; i, your servant, will do it." "what wonder will you work, my daughter, garamie?" replied buddha. "i will," said garamie, "fill up the space with water, and plunging into the water in an eastern direction, i will come back, and reappear in the west like a water-fowl. on my appearance before the crowd they will ask, what is this water-fowl? and i will answer to them, that this water-fowl is garamie, the daughter of the most excellent buddha. this is the wonder i will accomplish. the heretics, on seeing it, will say to themselves, if such be the power of garamie, how much greater and more wonderful must be that of buddha himself?" "i know," said buddha, "that you have such a power, but it is not for your sake that these crowds have been gathered together;" and he refused the solicited permission. garamie said to herself, buddha would not allow me to work this great wonder, but there is some one else that can do greater things than i; perhaps buddha will not be so inflexible with them as he is with me. she then withdrew to a becoming place. buddha thought within himself, there are many among my disciples who can make a display of great wonders; it is meet that the crowds should be aware of it, and see how, with hearts stout as that of the lion, they are ready to perform the most wonderful feats. he said aloud, "who are they that can do wonders? let them come forward." many came into his presence with a lion-like boldness and a thundering voice, craving for the honour of displaying supernatural powers. among them was a rich man, named anatapein; a female child, called tsera; a grown-up woman, and maukalan. they volunteered their services to perform the most extraordinary wonders, in order both to frighten the heretics, and make them understand that, if such a power belonged to the disciples, what that of buddha himself must be. but buddha would not accept their proffered services, and said to them that the people had not been assembled there for their sake, but for his; and that to him alone was reserved the task of enrapturing the crowds by the great wonders he was preparing to show. addressing maukalan, he said to him that, being a buddha, he could not leave to others the trouble of performing his own duty. in a former existence, when he was a bullock, he drew from a muddy place a heavily-laden cart, to save a brahmin's property and rejoice his heart. buddha ascended to the immense road which he had created in the air in the presence of the crowd, that filled a place of eighteen youdzanas in breadth and twenty-four in length. these wonders which he was about to display were the result of his own wisdom, and could not be imitated by any one. he caused a stream of water to issue from the upper part of his body and flames of fire from the lower part, and on a sudden the reverse to take place; again fire issued from his right eye, and streams of water from his left eye, and so on from his nostrils, ears, right and left, in front and behind. the same wonder too happened in such a way that the streams of fire succeeded the streams of water, but without mingling with each other. each stream in an upward direction reached the seats of brahmas; each stream in a downward direction penetrated as far as hell; each in a horizontal direction reached the extremities of the world. from each of his hairs the same wonderful display feasted the astonished eyes of the assembled people. the six glories gushed, as it were, from every part of his body, and, made it appear resplendent beyond description. having no one to converse with, he created a personage, who appeared to walk with him. sometimes he sat down, while his companion was pacing along; and at other times he himself walked, whilst his interlocutor was either standing or sitting. all the while buddha put to him questions which he readily answered, and in his turn replied to the interrogations that were made to him. at intervals phra preached to the crowd, who were exceedingly rejoiced, and sung praises to him. according to their good dispositions, he expounded the various points of the law. the people who heard him and saw the wonderful works he performed, obtained the understanding of the four great principles. buddha, having completed the twofold work of preaching to the crowds, and exciting their respect and admiration by the most astonishing display of the most extraordinary miracles, began to think within himself as follows: to what place have all former buddhas resorted after the display of signs, and spent the season? he saw by a stretch of his incomparable foresight that all of them had gone to the seat of tawadeintha, in the nats' country, to announce the perfect law to their mothers. he resolved to go thither too. with one step he reached the summit of the mountain ugando, at a distance of , youdzanas, and another step carried him to the top of the mienmo mountain. this was done without any effort on the part of buddha. those mountains lowered their summits to the very spot where he was standing, and rose up again to resume their lofty position. buddha found himself brought almost instantaneously to the seat of tawadeintha.[ ] he took his position on the immense rock pantukambala. when he lay extended there upon his tsiwaran, the huge mass on a sudden contracted itself to the very narrow dimensions of his dress. the people who had seen buddha, and who could not now descry him, found themselves in a state of bereavement, as if the sun and the moon had disappeared from the sky. they gave full vent to their cries and lamentations, saying: we are now deprived of the blessed presence of him who is the most excellent among the three sorts of beings, men, nats, and brahmas. some said he has gone to this place; some replied, no, he has gone to that place. many of the people, who had just arrived from different parts of the country, were exceedingly grieved, because they could not see him. they all repaired before maukalan, to ascertain from him what place buddha had gone to. maukalan knew it, but he wished to leave to anourouda the honour of satisfying their curiosity. the latter said to them that buddha had gone to the seat of tawadeintha to preach the law to his mother, and spend there one season on the rock of pantukambala. he added, that he would be back in three months hence, on the day of the full moon of thadin-kioot (october). they came to the spontaneous resolution to remain on that very spot, and not to return to their homes, until they had seen buddha a second time. they erected temporary sheds; and, though the place was small for such a countless multitude, they managed to accommodate themselves in the best way they could. previous to his departure, buddha had enjoined on maukalan to remain with the people and preach to them the law. maukalan faithfully complied with the request, and during three consecutive months instructed the people, and answered all their questions. the rich man anatapein fed the rahans and the assembly abundantly during the whole time. footnotes [ ] it is impossible to assign the motive that induced the compiler of buddha's life to insert in his work a long episode on the celebrated physician dzewaka. the story is in itself uninteresting, and throws no light whatever on the history of the supposed originator or reformer of buddhism. for this reason it has been thought quite unnecessary to give a complete translation of the whole passage. the name of dzewaka is quite familiar to the adepts of the medical art in burmah. many times the writer has made inquiries respecting the works of the hippocrates of india, but he has never been able to meet with mention of or allusion to such compositions. hence he has been led to suppose that the father of medicine in these countries has left behind him no writings to embody the results of his theoretical and practical favourite pursuits. surgery appears to have been no novelty with our great doctor, since we see him on an occasion extracting from the body of a prince, by means of an incision, a snake that put his life in peril. the numerous quacks who in burmah assume the name of physicians, and are ever ready to give medicines in all cases, even the most difficult and complicated, are ignorant of the very elements of the surgical art. they possess a certain number of remedies, made up of plants, which, when applied under proper circumstances and in certain cases, work wonderful cures. but the native physicians, unable in most instances to discern the true symptoms of diseases, prescribe remedies at random, and obtain, in too many cases, results most fatal to the unfortunate patient. in medicine as well as in religion, ignorance begets superstition and recourse to magical practices. we may positively assert that the black art is, with native practitioners, an essential concomitant to the practice of medicine. when a physician has exhausted the limited stock of remedies that he possesses, and he finds, in spite of his exertions, that the disease bids defiance to his skill, he gravely tells the relatives of the patient that some evil spirit is interfering with his remedies, and that he must be expelled ere there can be any chance of relieving the sufferer and obtaining his recovery. whereupon a shed is erected with the utmost speed on a spot close to the house of the patient. offerings of rice, fruits, and other articles are made to the pretended evil spirit, who is supposed to have got hold of the sufferer's body. dances of the most frantic character are carried on by his relatives. males will only officiate in default of females; preference is always given to the latter. young girls, say the burmese, are the fittest persons for the occasion, as it is supposed that the evil nat is more effectually and easily propitiated by the power of their charms. this exercise lasts until, strength at last failing them, they drop down in a state of complete exhaustion and prostration. they appear as if they had entirely lost their senses. in that state they are supposed to be inspired by the evil spirit. interrogated by the physician on the nature of the disease, and the proper remedies to be applied for eradicating it, they give answers, or rather they become channels through which the spirit, satisfied with the offerings made in his honour, condescends to declare that he has now left the patient, and that by placing him under a certain treatment, which he fails not to indicate, he will soon recover his health. occurrences of this nature are exceedingly common. they are called by the natives festivals of the _nat-pan_, or of the possessing spirit. [ ] the first followers of buddha, observing a mode of life much resembling that of the rathees, had hitherto made use of the dress they had purchased previous to their leaving the world. but when they became professed members of the new society, they were subjected to the observance of the vow of strict poverty, and had to depend entirely on public charity for the obtaining of the required food and raiment. the old clothes brought at the time of their entering the society were worn out and unfit to be put on. others were to be provided for by some means that would not wound the delicate feeling of absolute poverty. the only one that occurred was the willing and liberal dispositions of the lay members of the buddhist community. this new source of abundant alms was opened by our buddha himself, on the occasion of the offering made by dzewaka. desiring likewise to do away with the scruples many religious might entertain respecting the lawfulness or unlawfulness of receiving articles of dress, gaudama laid it down as a regulation that all the religious could lawfully accept all that might be willingly offered them by the faithful. in the foregoing pages we have seen the founder of buddhism granting to his followers permission to receive houses and landed properties presented to communities. now the same legislator, adhering to the same principle, gives a fuller development thereto, and extends to articles necessary for dress the leave to receive offerings of this description, proffered by the faithful to the religious. in the book of buddhist ordinations, or promotion to the degree of patzin, mention is made of these two sorts of permissions given to the rahans. [ ] it was at that moment that gaudama delighted to reveal to his disciples the most startling points of his doctrine, and made them familiar with certain tenets upon which he laid much stress. he wished that what he looked upon as subjects of the greatest importance, should be come familiar to them. no doubt he intended that those favourite topics should become the spiritual food upon which his disciples' minds should feed during the hours devoted to meditation. those who are uninitiated in the doctrines of buddhism will not understand the meaning of such an expression. it is difficult to obtain the nature of man. such language is, however, in perfect accordance with the principles of that system. a being, who is in one of the four states of punishment, that of an animal, for instance, shall have, in many instances, to pass through an immense number of various existences, ere he can escape from the circle of animal existences, and at last emerge into that of man. to give us an idea of the excessive difficulties a being has to encounter, they make use of the following comparison. let us suppose that a needle be dropped from one of the seats of brahmas, and at the same time a man on earth be keeping another needle with the point upwards. it will be more easy for the two needles' extremities to come in contact one with the other, than it will be to a being in the condition of animal to reach the state of man. on the same principle one can easily imagine what mighty efforts must be made during countless existences ere a simple man can obtain all the qualifications necessary for enabling him to become a buddha. the theory of gaudama, on this point, resembles much that of some modern thinkers who preach the perfectibility of man to an almost infinite degree. [ ] the conversion of ouggasena and of his companions, procured by the direct intervention of buddha himself, is another instance of the truly liberal spirit which animated the great preacher. his law was intended for all without exception. the profession of these individuals whom he so peculiarly selected was far from being a respectable one. the proud brahmin would not have condescended to take notice of people who, in his opinion, had degraded themselves so low. but the new teacher, though born from parents belonging to a high caste, entirely free from the prejudices inculcated by the narrow spirit of caste, rose himself to such a high position as to look upon man, whatever his condition or position might be, as a fellow-being fully entitled to the benefit of his instructions. this is one of the most striking features of his preachings, its universality as regards persons and places. it enables us to account for the rapid and astonishing diffusion of his doctrines through so many countries. it constitutes the essential and capital difference between the two great systems which, in days long passed by, have contested for the religious supremacy over the indian peninsula. in the subsequent story of thoodaudana's illness, we see buddha first, then ananda, thariputra, and maukalan relieving the illustrious patient from his bodily distemper, by invoking, not the interference of a supreme being, whom they ignore, but a certain power or influence connected with former good deeds. a great, nay, a miraculous, effect is produced by the agency of a cause which no one but a buddhist can understand. he has recourse to _kan_, or the influence resulting from meritorious actions, as to a mighty agent who has the power to work any desired result whatever. but how a man can by his own will control the influence of his good actions, so as to produce a grand effect in no way short of a miracle, is a thing which can in no rational way be explained or accounted for. [ ] the rebuke given by buddha to the disciple who had, without permission, made such a display of miraculous power, intended though it was for the promotion of his glory, was designed to operate as a salutary check on the pride that might find its way into the heart of even the most privileged beings. such a lesson was deemed of the greatest importance, since we find in the book of buddhistic ordinations the sin of boasting of or pretending to the power of working wonders, &c., ranked among the four capital sins, excluding a rahan for ever from the society of the perfect, and depriving him of his rank and dignity. buddha, it seems, wished to reserve to himself alone the honour of working miracles, or to give the permission, when circumstances should require it, to some of his disciples to do the same in his name and for the exaltation of his religion. the following story of purana and his five associates holds a prominent rank among the events that have rendered buddha so celebrated. gaudama, as it has been already mentioned in some foregoing notes, was an ascetic who had studied philosophy under eminent masters who belonged to the brahminical school. in many of his opinions, as well as in his mode of life, there was no perceptible difference between him and the followers of the brahmins. the writings of the latter, as well as those of the earliest buddhists, exhibit to us the sight of a great number of schools; where opinions on ontology, morals, and dogmas, &c., at once various, multifarious, and opposite, were publicly taught. then the human mind, left to its own resources, launching forth into the boundless field of speculative philosophy, ran in every direction, searching after truth. the mania for arguing, defining, drawing conclusions, &c., in those days, prevailed to an extent scarcely to be credited. many centuries before aristotle wrote the rules of dialectics, the indian philosophers had carried the art of reasoning to a great degree of nicety and shrewdness. witness the disputes and discussions between the brahmins and the immediate disciples of buddha. when our phra began to attract about his person crowds of hearers and disciples; when his opinions on the end of man were understood and appreciated; when the system of castes received the first shock from the new but rapidly progressing doctrine; when the eyes and hearts of the people were slowly at first, and rapidly afterwards, centred on the new preacher and his disciples; when at last alms, that had hitherto flowed into the abodes of the brahmins, began to enter into new channels and carry their substantial produce to the door of the followers of the new sect, then jealousy and other passions began to agitate the hearts of those who had hitherto retained an undisputed sway over the credulity of the people. they tried, if credit be given to the works of buddhists, every effort and devised every means in order to oppose the progress of the new doctrine. in this instance, purana and his friends, assisted, as the buddhists pretend, by the agency of the evil one, wished to enter into discussion with buddha and to surpass him in the display of miraculous power. the contest was to take place in the country of thawattie, in the presence of the king and of a countless multitude assembled for the purpose. purana, as usual with buddhists in regard to those who held opinions different from their own, is styled a heretic. of the opinions of the enemies of buddha nothing is said in the present work, but the writer has had the opportunity of perusing another work where a slight allusion is made to those six holders of heterodox doctrines. their opinions were at variance on the beginning of this world, the eternity of matter, the existence of the soul, and a first principle, creator of all that exists. we may infer therefrom that they were heads or chiefs of various schools, who, though not agreeing among themselves upon purely speculative doctrines, united and combined against the common enemy. a detailed account of the doctrines held by these six heretics would prove highly interesting, as it would throw some light on the very obscure and imperfectly known history of indian philosophy, in the days when buddhism assumed the shape of a religious system. to those who are unacquainted with indian literature, the great progress made by hindus in philosophical sciences at such an early period may appear somewhat doubtful: but modern discoveries made all over the indian peninsula leave not the least doubt respecting this startling assertion. at a period when greece and the other regions of europe were sunk in a state of complete ignorance, most of the branches of literature were successfully cultivated on the banks of the ganges. the study of philosophy always supposes a great intellectual advancement. there would, therefore, be no rashness whatever in asserting that the present state and condition of india, as regards literary progress, are much below the mark that was attained at such a remote period. the epoch of literary decadence began with the devastating expeditions of the fanatical moslem in the tenth century. it is probable, too, that the religious and sanguinary conflicts between the buddhists and brahminists have had their share in bringing about a similar result. the latter, having obtained the ascendancy over their adversaries, became more bigoted. they would no longer tolerate, to the same extent as before, the liberty of elaborating new systems, lest some successful philosopher might hereafter propagate opinions at variance with their own, undermine the mighty fabric of their creed, and endanger the holding of that absolute sway and paramount influence they had recovered, after centuries of a deadly contest with the disciples of the philosopher of kapilawot. [ ] the preachings of buddha were not to be confined to the narrow limits of man's abode; they were designed to reach much further. all beings living in the six seats of nats were to share with men the blessings of the publication of the perfect law. it has been already stated at length, in a foregoing note, that the condition of nats is merely a state of pleasure and enjoyment allotted to those who in former existences had done some meritorious work. the fortunate inhabitants of these celestial regions remain in those seats until the sum of their respective merits being, as it were, exhausted, they return to the abode of man, the true place of probation for all beings living therein. the condition of nat, therefore, is not a permanent one; the nat, after his time of reward is over, has to migrate to our terrestrial abode, begin a new existence, and endeavour to advance himself in the way of perfection by the practice of virtue. he is as yet very far from the state of neibban. like man, he has to learn the sublime law, and to become acquainted with the roads leading to the four high perfections. buddha, who came to announce the law of salvation to all beings, could not but go to the seats of nats, and teach them the way to free themselves from the turmoil of never-ending existence. the preachings of buddha for three consecutive months were attended with a success that must have exceeded his most sanguine expectations. millions of nats were converted, and forthwith obtained the deliverance. others less advanced in merits obtained the first, or second, or third state of perfection. during his stay in the other seats of nats, buddha gave a decision on the merits of almsgiving, which is certainly to the advantage of the yellow-dressed bickus, but appears somewhat opposed to all principles of justice and reason. in his opinion the inward dispositions of him who gives alms has nothing to do with the merits resulting from such a good work. those merits are strictly proportionate to the degree of sanctity or perfection of him who receives alms. such doctrine, destructive of the purest and noblest motives that can actuate man to do good, is openly upheld now both in theory and practice by the buddhist monks. when they receive alms from the admirers of their saintly mode of life, they never think of returning thanks to those who so liberally administer to all their material wants; they content themselves with saying, thadoo, thadoo; that is to say, well, well; and the pious offerer withdraws perfectly satisfied and happy, relying on the merits he has gained on this occasion, and longing for another opportunity of doing the like. the liberality of the laity towards the religious is carried to an excess scarcely to be credited. government do not interfere in the maintenance of the perfect, and yet they are abundantly supplied with all the necessaries, nay, the luxuries, of life. they live on the fat of the land. that the crowds of people might be better prepared for hearing the sacred law and obtaining a correct understanding of it, buddha charges maukalan to a regular fast, or at least abstinence, carried to a considerable degree. a free and copious use of nourishing substances unfits man for mental exertions, occasions in him heaviness and supineness, enervates and weakens the vigour of the intellect, and gives to matter a preponderating influence over the soul. the advice will hold good everywhere, but it becomes particularly pressing and stringent when addressed to an audience of buddhists, who require the full force of their mind to be able to understand the various bearings of a doctrine resting on the most abstruse principles, the end of which too is to disentangle the soul from the influence of materiality. up to this day in burmah there are some remnants of the observance of fast during the three months of lent, when the law is oftener expounded to and better observed by religious people. the obligation of fasting during the days of the quarters of the moon is generally admitted, and some few observe it, if not always, at least from time to time. the generality of the burmese people entirely disregard fasting. curious but interesting is the reply buddha gave to thariputra, who rejoiced exceedingly because men and nats vied with each other in paying great honours to him. he unhesitatingly states: blessed are all those who rejoice on his account. by this joy we ought not to understand the transient and momentary affection of the heart, elicited by some pleasing and agreeable occurrence; but the kind of joy alluded to is a rational, philosophical, and religious one, having its origin, first, in a full and perfect knowledge of buddha's transcendent excellence, rendering his person an object of the highest admiration; and, second, in a lively confidence in his benevolence and goodness towards all beings, which urge him to labour for their deliverance from all miseries and their guidance to a state of peace and rest. such a joy, diffused over the heart, creates an ardent love for buddha and his doctrine; that affection rests, not on buddha, as a mere individual, but on him who is the personification of a saviour of all beings. it implies faith in him and his preachings, as well as a strong confidence in his power and willingness to confer the greatest possible benefits. hence there is no wonder to hear buddha declaring all those blessed who on that solemn occasion rejoiced in him. chapter x. _buddha's proceedings in the seat of tawadeintha -- his triumphant return to the seat of men, in the city of thin-ka-tha -- he is calumniated by the heretics of thawattie -- eighth season spent in the forest of tesakala -- subsequent preachings -- he meets with a bad reception in the kothambi country -- dissension among the disciples -- reconciliation -- travels of buddha -- preaching to a pounha who tilled a field._ while buddha was in the seat of tawadeintha all the nats came from more than ten thousand worlds to his presence; but the glory that always encompasses their bodies disappeared, or was completely outshone by that of buddha's person. his mother, a daughter of nats, came from the seat of toothita to see her son and hear his instructions. she sat on his right. two sons of nats stood by the right and left of his mother. the crowd was so great that it covered a surface of eighteen youdzanas. in that immense assembly two nats were conspicuous by their particular demeanour and position. one of them stood so close to buddha as to touch almost one of his knees, the other was standing in a respectful position afar off. buddha asked the latter what he had done to deserve the place he occupied. he answered that, during former existences, he had made abundant alms indeed, but his merits had been comparatively small, because he had not done those good works to persons eminent for their sanctity. the same question was put to the other nat, who said that he was, in a former existence, living in very narrow circumstances, but that he had had the good fortune of giving alms, according to his limited means, to persons who were much advanced in merits. with a voice that was heard by the crowds on the seat of men, buddha proclaimed the immense advantage of giving alms to and supporting the rahans and those advanced in perfection. they were, said he, like good seed sown on a good field, that yields an abundance of good fruits. but alms given to those who are as yet under the tyrannical yoke of passions are like a seed deposited in a bad soil; the passions of the receiver of alms choke, as it were, the growth of merits. at the conclusion, the two nats obtained the reward of thautapan. the crowds on earth had also the benefit of hearing his instructions. whilst buddha was in the middle of the nats, he announced the law of abidama to his mother. having to go about to get his food, buddha created a likeness of another buddha, whom he commissioned to continue the preaching of the abidama. as to himself, he went to the mountain of himawonta, ate the tender branches of a certain tree, washed his face in the lake anawadat, and partook of the food he received from the northern island. thariputra went thither to render him all necessary services. when he had eaten his meal, he called thariputra, and desired him to go and preach the law of abidama to five hundred rahans, who were present when the display of wonders took place, and were much pleased with it. in the time of the buddha kathaba those five hundred rahans were bats, living in a cave much resorted to by rahans, who were wont to repeat the abidama. those bats contrived to retain a certain number of words, the meaning whereof they could not understand. when they died, they were transferred into one of the seats of nats; and when they became men anew, they had the good fortune to be born from illustrious parents, in the country of thawattie, and when phra showed his powers, they were much pleased. they became rahans under thariputra, and were the first to understand perfectly the sublime law of abidama. as to buddha, he returned to the seat of tawadeintha and continued the instructions, where the buddha of his creation had left them. at the end of three months' preaching, an innumerable number of nats knew and understood the four great principles. as to his mother, she obtained the perfection of thautapan. the time when buddha was to return to the seat of men was near at hand. the crowds, eager to know the precise time when buddha was to come back among them, went to maukalan to ascertain from him the precise day on which they would be blessed with his presence. "well," said maukalan to the people, "in a very short time i will give you an answer on the subject of your inquiry." that very instant he plunged to the bottom of the earth and reappeared, but when he was at the foot of the mienmo mountain, he ascended, in the view of the crowd whom he had left, and soon arrived in the presence of buddha, to whom he explained the object of his errand. "my son," answered buddha, "in what country does your brother thariputra spend his season?" "in the city of thin-ka-tha," replied maukalan. "well," said buddha, "seven days hence, at the full moon of thadin-kioot (october), i will descend near the gate of thin-ka-tha city; go and tell the people that those who desire to see me must go to that country, distant thirty youdzanas from thawattie. let no one take any provision; but by a rigorous abstinence let them dispose themselves to hear the law that i will preach." maukalan, having paid his respects to buddha, returned to the place where the assembled multitude anxiously waited for him. he related to them all the particulars regarding his interview with buddha, and conveyed to them the much-wished-for intelligence of his speedy return on earth. on the day of the full moon of thadin-kioot (october), buddha disposed himself to go down to the seat of men. he called a prince of thagias and directed him to prepare everything for his descent. complying with his request, the thagia prepared three ladders or stairs, one made of precious stones, occupying the middle; one on the right made of gold; and a third, made of silver, on the left. the foot of each ladder rested on the earth, near to the gate of thin-ka-tha city, and their summits leaned on the top of the mienmo mountain. the middle ladder was for buddha, the golden one for the nats, and that of silver for the brahmas. having reached the summit of the steps, buddha stopped awhile, and resolved to make a fresh display of his power. he looked upwards, and all the superior seats of brahmas were distinctly descried; on his looking downwards, his eyes could see and plunge into the bottom of the earth to the lowest hell. the nats of more than a thousand systems could see each other. men could perceive nats in their fortunate seats, and nats saw men in their terrestrial abode. the six glories streamed forth with an incomparable splendour from buddha's person, which became visible to all the crowds. there was not one who did not praise buddha. having the nats on his right, and the brahmas on his left, the most glorious phra began his triumphant coming down. he was preceded by a nat, holding a harp in his hands and playing the most melodious tunes; another nat fanned him; a chief of brahmas held over him a golden umbrella. surrounded with that brilliant _cortège_, buddha descended near the gate of thin-ka-tha city, and stopped there for awhile. thariputra came forthwith into the presence of buddha, paid him his respects at a becoming distance, and said, with a heart overflowing with joy: "on this day, o most glorious buddha, all the nats and men are showing their love to you." buddha replied: "blessed is thariputra, and blessed are all those who rejoice on my account. men and nats love him who is acquainted with the sublime law, who has put an end to his passions, and who has attained to the highest state of contemplation." at the end of his discourse, innumerable beings understood the four great principles, and the five hundred rahans whom thariputra was commissioned to instruct reached the state of arahat. on the spot where all buddhas set their feet, when coming from the seat of tawadeintha, a dzedi[ ] has always been erected. buddha, on leaving thin-ka-tha, shaped his course towards wethalie, and took his abode in the dzetawon monastery. the fame of the wonders he had performed increased his reputation, and elicited from the people fresh tokens of respect and veneration. alms poured from all quarters into the monastery; the liberality of the people towards his person and that of his disciples expanded in a wonderful manner. the heretics, who swarmed in wethalie and its neighbourhood, became exceedingly jealous of buddha's successes. the loss which they sustained in the donations of the people added fuel to the inward discontent. they resolved to devise some means to lower the character of buddha in the opinion of the people. after a long deliberation, they fixed on the following plan:--a certain woman of great beauty, but of a rather doubtful character, was induced to join them in accusing gaudama of having violated her. she contrived to assume the appearance of a person in a state of pregnancy, and, covering herself with a piece of red cloth, she went about the town spreading evil reports respecting buddha's character. she had the impudence even to go into the dzetawon monastery, and ask buddha to provide a place for her approaching confinement, and likewise maintenance for herself and the child she was by him pregnant with. such an infamous calumny did not, however, move him in the least. conscious of his innocence, he lost nothing of his usual composure and serenity. but by the interference of the thagia the slander was made manifest. two mice bit the strings that kept tied up on the abdomen the apparatus designed to prop up the deceit, and, on a sudden, the whole fell on the ground, proclaiming at once the innocence of the sage and smiting his enemies with confusion. every one present on the occasion gave vent to his just indignation at such a base attempt on the part of the heretics. but buddha meekly replied that what had just happened was a righteous retribution for a misbehaviour of his own during a former existence. at that time, he was on a certain day under the influence of liquor, when he chanced to meet on his way a pitzegabuddha. without any reason or provocation, he abused the holy man with the lowest and coarsest expressions, and went so far as to tell him that his whole life was but a series of hypocritical actions. turning then towards his disciples, he added, with a grave countenance, that what they had now witnessed was the just punishment inflicted on him under the influence of the demerit created and generated by his former evil doing. the eighth season was spent in the grove or forest of tesakala, and when the rains were over, the most excellent phra travelled throughout the country, preaching and teaching the right way to many. countless converts entered one of the four ways, and many obtained at once the deliverance. in the town of santoo-maragiri, he was preaching to the benefactors who had fed him and his disciples. among the hearers were two persons, nakoulapita and nakoulamata, husband and wife, belonging to the pounha race. during a great many successive former existences they had had the good fortune to be father, mother, uncle, aunt, &c., to buddha. during the present existence the feeling of affection towards him with whom they had been so long and so intimately connected was powerfully awakened and glowed in their hearts. under the influence of that natural, kindly, and tender feeling, they came forward, and prostrating themselves before gaudama, said to him: "dear son, how is it that you have been away from us for so long a while? we are so happy to see you after so long an absence." buddha, remaining indifferent to such a scene and language, knew at once what were the real wants of that good couple, and in what manner he could acknowledge the great favours he had during former existences received at their hands. he preached to them the most excellent law. they were thoroughly converted. the next morning they had the happiness to supply their great teacher and his company with the choicest food. meanwhile they addressed to him the following request: "during many existences we both have always been happily united: not a word of complaint or quarrel has ever passed between us. we pray that in our coming existences the same love and affection may ever unite us together." their request was affectionately granted, and buddha, in the presence of a large assembly, pronounced them blessed and happy amongst all men and women. the son of the ruler of the country where these things happened was, to his great affliction, childless. he invited buddha to come and partake of his hospitality in his house. the offer was accepted. great preparations were made for the reception of the illustrious visitor. the prince had some of his own clothes laid on the way that buddha was to follow, in the hope that by treading over them he might communicate a certain virtue, whereby he would have the object of his earnest desire realised. on his arrival near the entrance of the house, buddha stopped and refused to proceed farther. meanwhile, he beckoned ananda to remove the clothes. this was done accordingly, to the prince's deep disappointment. after the meal, gaudama explained to him that he and his wife during a former existence had lived on eggs and had killed many birds. their present barrenness was the just punishment of their former trespassing; but their actual good dispositions having atoned for the past transgressions, they would be blessed with children. both were overjoyed at this news. they believed in buddha, obtained the state of thautapan, and thereby entered into the current of perfection. their faith in buddha's word procured for them so happy a result. during all the time that elapsed after the rain, buddha travelled through the country, engaged on his usual benevolent errand, and converting many among men and nats. in the country of garurit, in a village of pounhas called magoulia, the head man, one of the richest in the place, had a daughter whose beauty equalled that of a daughter of nats. she had been in vain asked in marriage by princes, nobles, and pounhas. the proud damsel had rejected every offer. on the day that her father saw gaudama, he was struck with his manly beauty and meek deportment. he said within himself: "this man shall be a proper match for my daughter." on his return home he communicated his views to his wife. on the following day, the daughter having put on her choicest dress and richest apparels, they all three went with a large retinue to the dzetawon monastery. admitted to the presence of buddha, the father asked for his daughter the favour of being allowed to attend on him. without returning a word of reply, or giving the least sign of acceptance or refusal, buddha rose up and withdrew to a small distance, leaving behind him on the floor the print of one of his feet. the pounha's wife, well skilled in the science of interpreting wonderful signs, saw at a glance that the marks on the print indicated a man no longer under the control of passions, but a sage emancipated from the thraldom of concupiscence. she communicated her views to her husband, who had the impudence to go to buddha's presence and renew the same offer. buddha meekly replied: "pounha, i neither accept nor decline your offer; in your turn, listen to what i have to say." he then went on to relate how he had left the world, resisted manh's temptation, lived in solitude for six years, and freed himself from the net of passions. he concluded by stating that, having become a buddha, he had for ever conquered all passions. at the conclusion of the instruction, both father and mother became established in the state of thautapan. the damsel was highly offended at the refusal she experienced, and retained a strong feeling of hatred towards him who had declined her proffered favours. her father took her into the kothambi country, where she was offered to the ruler, who, smitten with her charms, elevated her to the rank of first queen. in the country of kothambi, there lived three rich men. these three men fed during the rainy season every year five hundred hermits, who came from the himalaya range for the purpose of obtaining their maintenance. these charitable laymen went over to wethalie for the purpose of trade. there they met buddha, and earnestly pressed him to come to their country and preach the law. the invitation was accepted. they returned home, and built for the accommodation of the illustrious visitor each of them one monastery. when all was ready, buddha went to kothambi, attended by five hundred disciples. he spent there the ninth season. during his stay he dwelt by turns in each of the three monasteries, and was abundantly supported by the rich man in whose monastery he took his abode. in the country of kothambi there were as yet few disciples or believers in buddha; but the number of holders of false doctrines was exceedingly great. secretly supported by the first queen, and actuated by jealousy against the new-comer, they reviled him and his disciples in every possible way, and did their utmost to destroy in public opinion his rising fame. whenever they met buddha's disciples, they abused them with the coarsest language. unable to bear any longer so many insults, ananda, in the name of his brethren, went to buddha, and asked him to remove to some other place, where they would receive a becoming treatment. "but," said buddha, "if we be ill-treated in the new place we go to, what is to be done?" "we shall proceed to some other place," replied ananda. "but," retorted buddha, "if in that new place we be likewise reviled, what then?" "we shall," replied ananda, "remove to some other place." buddha remained silent for awhile, and, casting a gentle glance on ananda, said to him: "a little patience will save us the trouble of so many travels, and certainly procure for us here what we may perhaps vainly look for anywhere else. by patience and endurance the wise man conquers all his enemies. behold the war-elephant; he plunges into the thickest of the raging conflict, regardless of the darts and arrows flying in every direction, and carries all before him. i, too, the most excellent buddha, shall certainly stay here, diligently preach the most excellent law, and perseveringly labour to disentangle men from the net of passions. in no way shall i care for the abuses they may pour on me and my disciples." not long after this a trifling accident kindled the fire of dissension among the members of the assembly. the subject was, as usual, of a trifling nature. it was concerning a point of discipline of scarcely any importance, infringed unintentionally by a rahan. he was accused by one of his brethren of having committed a sin. but he replied that, having done an act in which his will had not participated, he did not consider himself guilty. each disputant attracted to his party some religious who supported his view of the case. the kothambi rahans seem to have been the cause of the disunion which prevailed in the community, and soon, like a devouring flame, extended to the female portion of the assembly. in vain gaudama interfered, and exhorted the two parties to patience, union, and charity. in his presence the parties were silent, but in his absence the quarrel grew worse. at last his entreaties were unheeded, and discord continued to rend asunder the bond of unity. disgusted with such a state of things, buddha preached to the most distinguished members of the assembly the blessings of peace and concord. such men as baddia, kimila, and anourouddha, treasured up in their heart the instructions of their great master. but others continued the dispute. meanwhile he resolved to separate himself for a time from all company, and to go to a lonely spot to enjoy the happiness of peace and meditation. he shaped his course towards the village of palelayaka, where he received his food, and went into a grove of sala-trees, to fix his residence at the foot of one of those trees. the villagers, hearing of his intention, hastened to the spot, and built a hermit's hut for his use, and promised to supply him daily with his food. it was in this place that, delighting in the contemplation of unclouded truth, gaudama spent the tenth season alone. the rich men of the kothambi country, hearing that buddha had departed because of the dissension that took place among the rahans, became indignant. they openly declared their fixed intent of refusing to give anything for the maintenance of the rahans, until they agreed among themselves, and became reconciled with their teacher. the timely threat had the desired effect. the disputants felt the unpleasant seriousness of their uneasy position. they could hold on no longer. the rahans came to an agreement among themselves, and promised that after the season they would go to buddha and solicit his pardon. in the forest of paleliaka there lived a certain elephant, much advanced in merits, which went to buddha, and, during three months, ministered to all his wants, as a most affectionate and devoted disciple would do towards a beloved master. the three months of lent being completed, the rich man anatapein made earnest inquiries with ananda, respecting the place buddha had withdrawn to, and charged him to invite the great preacher to come back to thawattie, and live as usual in the dzetawon monastery. complying with the pious wishes of the rich man, ananda took with himself five hundred rahans, and went to the solitude of paleliaka. he was likewise followed by the five hundred refractory rahans of kothambi, who had come to wethalie. the ruler of the country and anatapein had refused at first to receive them. but the prohibition had been removed on account of their repentance. he approached alone the place where buddha was living. after the usual prostrations, gaudama inquired whether he had come alone. he replied that there were with him many of his faithful disciples and the kothambi rahans. the latter came with the express purpose of asking his pardon, and a firm resolution to yield henceforward a perfect obedience to all his commands. buddha desired them to appear in his presence. they came, were there well received, and their misbehaviour was forgiven. gaudama explained to them the great advantage of shunning bad company and of living in retirement. the hearers were fully converted and established in the state of thautapan. buddha, on his return to wethalie, continued preaching in every direction, and led to the deliverance a great number of men, nats, and brahmas. the stay in the dzetawon monastery was not very long. buddha went into the magatha country, to a pounha village, named nala. not far from that village there is the deckinagiri, or southern mountain, with a monastery. in that place buddha spent the eleventh season.[ ] his supporters were the pounhas of the village. the chief occupation of those men was the tillage of the fields. gaudama took a particular pleasure during his daily walks in conversing with them, when he met them engaged in their daily labours. one day buddha went into the fields, where he met a pounha, with whom he began to converse, in the intention of ultimately preaching to him the holy law. he spoke at first on the subject of his daily labour, his bullocks, his plough, the seed, and the harvest, which supplied the pounha and his family with their daily food during the year. he added: "i, too, am a labourer, provided with the seed and all the implements necessary for carrying on tillage." the pounha, surprised at what he heard, asked buddha in what place he had left his bullocks, the seed, the plough, &c. the latter coolly replied: "all these things are with me at present. hearken, o pounha, to what i am about to state. the seed is that fervent desire, that benevolent disposition, which prompted me at the foot of the buddha deipinkara to ask for the buddhaship: it is the science which i have gathered under the tree bodi. the rain water is that uninterrupted series of good works performed by me, until i have become a buddha. they have been as the means of watering the good seed which was in me. the knowledge, or science, and wisdom are as the yoke, as well as the plough-shaft. the heart, or the knowing principle which is in me, represents the reins that serve to guide the bullocks. the teeth of the plough represent the diligence that must be used in attending to the eradicating of the principle of demerits and of bad works. the plough-handle represents the guiding principle of the law, which enables me to remove all that is bad, and promote what is good. the food which you, o pounha, derive from your exertions, represents the pure relish which is tasted by him who is bent on avoiding evil and doing good. when you make use of the plough, you cut or uproot all bad weeds. so it is with him who is penetrated with the full meaning of the four great truths; he cuts and uproots from himself the wicked inclinations and low propensities that are in him. when the labour of the field is over, you unyoke your bullocks and leave them to go whithersoever they please; so it is with the wise man. by application to invigorating the principle of good that leads to perfection, he lets go the opposite principle which gives rise to all imperfections. the bullocks have to work hard to complete the work of tillage. so the sage has to struggle hard, to till perfectly and cultivate thoroughly the soil of his own being, and reach the happy state of neibban. the husbandman who labours so much for bringing his field into a position to receive the seed, and in every way to favour its growth, is imitated by the true sage who endeavours to free himself from the miseries attending existence, to advance in the way of merits by the practice of good works, and who thirsts after the happy condition of the perfect. he who works in the field is sometimes disappointed, and feels occasionally the pangs of hunger. he who works in the field of wisdom is exempt from all miseries and afflictions. he eats the fruit of his labour. he is fully satiated when he beholds neibban. it is in this manner, o pounha, that i am a true husbandman, and am always provided with all the implements necessary for the tillage of man's soul." the pounha, delighted with such doctrine, became a convert, and professed his belief in buddha, the law, and the assembly. subsequently he applied for admittance into the assembly, and by energetic efforts in the arduous work of meditation, he became at last a rahanda. when the rains were over, buddha travelled through the country, preaching the most excellent law, with the happiest results. he went to the town of satiabia, in the kosala country. there he received from a pounha of waritzaba an invitation to go to that place. the invitation was graciously accepted. in that town he spent the twelfth season. a great many pounhas were enlightened and converted by professing their firm adherence to the three precious things. the vile manh nat did his utmost to thwart the beneficial results of buddha's preachings. a great dearth prevailing in the country, he did all that he could to starve the most excellent buddha and all his followers. but he was frustrated in his iniquitous design by the charity of five hundred horse merchants, who had come from outharapata, and were then staying in waritzaba. buddha, leaving this country, shaped his course through the great mantala country; he travelled by the shortest route, a distance of youdzanas. he started on the day after the full moon of tabodway, and spent nearly five months in this voyage. he reached the banks of the ganges at gayagati, where he crossed the mighty stream and went to benares. he had not been long in that city, when he recrossed the ganges and went to wethalie, dwelling in the gootagarathala monastery. thence he went into thawattie, preaching through all the places he visited. when he was in the dzetawon monastery, he delivered the maha rahula instruction for the benefit of his son rahula, who then was eighteen years old. footnotes [ ] the religious edifices that are to be met with in all parts of burmah deserve a particular notice. they are called dzedis in all the buddhist writings of the burmese, but the people generally speak of them under the appellation of payas or phras, which, in this instance, is merely a title of honour of a religious character. dzedis, in the earliest days of buddhism, were sacred tumuli raised upon a shrine, wherein relics of buddha had been deposited. these structures were as so many lofty witnesses, bearing evidence to the presence of sacred and precious objects, intended to revive in the memory of the faithful the remembrance of buddha, and foster in their hearts tender feelings of devotion and a glowing fervour for his religion. from the perusal of this legend, it will appear that dzedis were likewise erected on the tombs of individuals who, during their lifetime, had obtained great distinction by their virtues and spiritual attainments among the members of the assembly. buddha himself ordered that a monument should be built over the shrine containing the relics of the two great disciples, thariputra and maukalan. in burmah, no dzedis of great dimensions and proportions have ever been erected on the ashes of distinguished phongyies. in some parts, however, particularly in the upper country, there may be seen here and there some small dzedis, a few feet high, erected on the spot where have been deposited the remains of some saintly personages. these monuments are little noticed by the people, though, on certain occasions, a few offerings of flowers, tapers, &c., are made around and in front of them. similar kinds of religious edifices have been built sometimes also to become a receptacle of the pitagat, or collection of the holy scriptures. one of the finest temples of ceylon was devoted to that purpose. there was also one in the ancient city of ava, but i am not aware that there is any of this kind at amarapoora. finally, dzedis have been erected for the sole purpose of harbouring statues of gaudama; but there is every reason to believe that this practice gained ground in subsequent ages. when a fervent buddhist, impelled by the desire of satisfying the cravings of his piety and devotion, wished to build a religious monument, and could not procure relics, he then remained contented by supplying the deficiency with images of buddha representing that eminent personage, in attitudes of body that were to remind buddhists of some of the most striking actions of his life. in many instances, dzedis have been built up, not even for the sake of sheltering statues, but for the pious purpose of reminding the people of the holy relics of buddha, and, as they used to say, for kindling in the soul a tender feeling of affectionate reverence for the person of buddha and his religion. if what is put forward as a plea for building pagodas be founded on conviction and truth, we must conclude that the inhabitants of the valley of the irrawaddy are most devotedly religious, as the mania for building dzedis has been, and even now is, carried to such a pitch as to render almost fabulous the number of religious buildings to be seen on an extent of above seven hundred miles as far as bhamo. as buddhism was imported from india into eastern asia there is no doubt that the style of architecture adopted in the erection of religious edifices came from the same quarter. to the native genius of the burmese we may allow the merit of ornamental architecture for the great monasteries, and a few details of the exterior decorations of the religious monuments; but no one will take offence at refusing to the tribes that occupy the basin of the irrawaddy the merit of originating the plan of such monuments as those to be seen in some parts of the country. it is much to their credit that they have been able to raise such mighty fabrics with the imperfect knowledge they possess and the very limited means at their disposal. the resemblance that exists between the much-defaced buddhist monuments yet to be met with in some parts of india and at java, and those now studding the banks of the irrawaddy, leaves no doubt respecting the origin of the shape and form of such monuments. at first sight, the traveller in burmah believes that there is a great variety in the shape and architecture of pagodas. he is easily led astray by many fantastical ornaments that have been added by inexperienced natives to religious monuments. after, however, a close examination of those edifices, it seems that they can be arranged into three distinct classes, to which those presenting minor differences may be referred. the first class comprises those which have a cone-like appearance, though much enlarged in the direction of the base. these are without niches, or rather ought to be without niches, as the small ones to be seen added to those monuments indicate that they are no essential appendage of the building, but rather the fanciful and tasteless work of some devotees. the pagodas of rangoon, pegu and prome offer the finest specimens of this order of edifices. the second class includes those of a dome-like shape. they are not common in burmah. the finest and grandest specimen is that of the kaong-hmoo-dau, or great meritorious work, situated west of the ancient city of tsagain. in the third class we may place all the pagodas that approximate to the temple form; that is to say, all those that offer the shape of a more or less considerable rectangle, with a large hall in the centre and several galleries running throughout. upon this rectangle a conical structure is raised, ending as usual with the tee or umbrella. the most remarkable and perfect specimens of this kind are to be seen at pagan, which may be aptly styled the city of pagodas. the cone-shaped pagoda invariably rests on a quadrangular basis a few feet high. the body of the cone in its lower part is an hexagon or octagon, broad at first, then gradually and regularly decreasing to two-thirds of its height. upon it rises the regular cone, which ends in a point covered with the gilt umbrella. the architectural ornaments of such structures are circular, bold and round lines or mouldings; above this, to the place where the cone begins, are sculptures, representing leaves shooting from the middle part, one half upwards and the other half downwards. that part is often divested of such ornaments, as is the case with the shoaydagon. on the sides of the cone are horizontal lines grouped together; each group is separated by a considerable distance, then comes a sculptured foliage, different from the one already mentioned, but disposed in a like manner. in the middle of the four sides of the base, particularly in the one facing the east, the burmese have introduced the practice of making small niches for receiving the statues representing buddha in a cross-legged position. a portico leads to them. on the four angles of the base they likewise place griffins or sometimes fantastic figures of monsters. small dzedis are often disposed on the lower parts of the hexagon or octagon. this kind of pagoda being naturally destitute of all ornaments, and standing over a tomb or a shrine, as a pillar that has gradually assumed the shape above described, is a very ancient one, and probably coeval with the earliest buddhist religious monuments. the second class of religious edifices is that of those that exhibit a dome-like appearance. they are rather uncommon in burmah. they rest on a square basis. the lower part is adorned with a few mouldings, but the greatest part offers a perfectly even superficies. the umbrella that is placed on them partakes somewhat of the appearance of the monument it is destined to crown. it considerably expands in the horizontal direction, and has a very ungraceful appearance. the kaong-hmoo-dau in the neighbourhood of tsagain rests on a basis about or feet high; the dome, according to an inscription, is feet high, the diameter, at the lowest part, is nearly feet. the whole was formerly gilt. the four sides of the square are lined with small niches, each tenanted by a small statue of gaudama. separated from the square by an open and well-paved gallery that runs all round the edifice, are disposed in a row eight hundred and two small pillars of sandstone, about feet high, with their upper part perforated, so as to afford room sufficient to receive a lamp on festival days. splendid must be the effect produced during a dark night by so many lamps, pouring a flood of light that illuminates on all sides the massive edifice. whether the monument was built about three hundred years ago, as stated to the writer by one of the guardians, or, as it is most probable, only repaired and adorned at that time, certain it is that this kind of religious edifice is very ancient, and very likely not inferior in antiquity to those above referred to. another of a similar form, but of much smaller dimensions, is to be seen at bhamo, not far from the eastern gate. the third class of pagodas comprises all those that are generally of a square form, not made of a solid masonry, but with openings or doors, a room, galleries, &c., for receiving statues of gaudama. they are all surmounted with the usual conical structure, which is, it seems, the essential appendage to all dzedis. these edifices, in my opinion, are not to be considered as tumuli or topes, but rather as places of worship, and sanctuaries for the reception of the statues of gaudama. the monuments are, i suspect, of a comparative modern origin; they have not the plainness and simplicity of the tumuli which agree so well with the simplicity of the religious form of worship of primitive buddhism. they are not made to answer the purpose for which dzedis were primitively raised. they must have been erected at times when buddhist worship, emerging from its primeval sternness of form, assumed proportions and developments congenial to the taste and wants of large religious communities. this class of temples offers a great variety of forms as to the size, dimensions, and details of architecture. but they may be all brought to this general outline. from the square body of the temple diverge, in the direction of the four points of the compass, porticoes; the one facing the east is always the largest and best adorned; sometimes there is but one portico, that of the east, and there are only doors in the middle of the three other sides. from these porticoes the galleries converge towards the centre of the temple, where are statues. in the large and magnificent pagodas of pagan, galleries with vaults in the pointed style run all round the building. some of those stupendous structures have two stories, and it is only on the second that the conical part rests, which is the essential complement of every religious building. on one of the middle-sized pagodas rises, instead of a cone, an obelisk, with ornaments that appear to resemble hieroglyphic figures. some of those obelisks swell considerably towards the middle of their height. great was the surprise and astonishment of the writer, when he observed in the same place, among the prodigious number of pagodas, in a more or less advanced state of decay, one, not considerable by its dimensions, nor in a much-ruined condition, that exhibited the solitary instance of a regular pyramid. [ ] the few particulars that have been gathered respecting the mode that buddha followed in disseminating his doctrines, exhibit him in the light of a zealous and indefatigable preacher. we see him passing from one place to another with the sole purpose of instructing the ignorant and pointing out to them the way leading to the deliverance. bebar and oude appear to have been the seat of his labours, and the scene on which he acted in behalf of all, without any distinction of condition, caste, or sex. individuals in the humblest walks of life, men engaged in wicked practices, women of an abandoned character, were all, to an equal degree, the object of his tender solicitude. they were all summoned to come to his feet and partake in the blessings that he had in store for them. gaudama was to an eminent degree an earnest and fervent propagandist. this is a striking feature in his character, which distinguishes him not only from all his contemporaries, but also from all the philosophers that have appeared throughout the indian peninsula. all these sages aimed at becoming the heads of schools, but none of them thought of promulgating a code of morals intended for the whole human race. gaudama has the honour of being the first who, with enlarged views, looked upon his fellow-men as equally entitled to the benefit of his instructions. his love of all men prompted him to undergo all sorts of fatigue, to procure for them what he imagined to be a great boon. in making this statement we have no intention to pass an opinion on the doctrines of the founder of buddhism; we merely bring forward to the notice of the reader a peculiar characteristic of that sage, which, in our humble opinion, helps to account for the extraordinary spread of buddhism from the banks of the oxus to the japanese archipelago. the tenets of that creed have become popular, because they were intended for all. false though they be, particularly in what has a reference to dogmas, they were accepted by the masses, because there were no other proffered to them. the disciples of gaudama must have been well received in the various places they went to, for they showed a disposition of mind quite unknown in those days, viz., a lively interest in the welfare of all. this zeal, which appeared so conspicuously in gaudama and during the first ages of buddhism, has become all but totally extinct. there is no desire on the part of those who in our days follow that creed to propagate its tenets among other nations or tribes. chapter xi. _voyage to tsalia -- instructions to meggia -- raoula is made a professed religious -- manahan's questions to buddha -- misbehaviour of thouppabuda -- questions proposed by nats in the dzetawon monastery -- conversion of a biloo -- episode of thirima at radzagio -- attention paid to a poor pounha and to a weaver's daughter on account of their faith -- in the twentieth season, appointment of ananda to the stewardship -- conversion of a famous robber._ after a rather short stay in thawattie, buddha went to the town of tsalia. the inhabitants built for him a monastery on a hill not far from the town, and liberally supplied him with all that he wanted. pleased with the good reception the people gave him, gaudama spent on that spot the thirteenth season. he went to receive his food in the village of dzantoo. thence travelling through the country, he reached the banks of the river kimikila and enjoyed himself in a beautiful grove of mango-trees. the disciple meggia, being too much taken up with the beauty of the place, eagerly wished to remain here for some time. as a punishment for such an inordinate attachment to a particular spot, he who had renounced the world and the gratification of passions, felt on a sudden a strange change pass over him. a flood of concupiscence inundated his soul. buddha, who saw what was taking place in meggia, gave him an instruction on contempt for the things of this world, and entirely cured him of his great spiritual distemper. thence he proceeded to thawattie into the dzetawon monastery, where he spent the fourteenth season. the great disciple thariputra, with five hundred religious, was spending the season in a neighbouring village. the people were so much pleased with him and his company, that they offered to each of them a piece of yellow silk. some religious, jealous of the great disciple, came to buddha and accused him of covetousness. buddha fully justified his great companion and commended the liberality of the donors, who had thus an opportunity of gratifying their liberality and gaining merits. the thamane raoula was then twenty years old. having reached the canonical age, he was elevated to the dignity of patzin. the young religious could scarcely defend himself from a certain feeling of vanity on account of his father's dignity and his own personal mien and bearing, which he was very fond of admiring. buddha was intimately acquainted with what was going on in raoula's soul. he preached to him the contempt of self and of all varieties of form. the instruction was so impressive that it led the young hearer to the state of rahanda. on a certain night when raoula was sleeping near the door of gaudama's private apartment, manh nat, wishing to frighten the young rahanda, created the likeness of an elephant, which, keeping his trunk over his head, suddenly made a frightful noise. buddha, who was inside, saw clearly that this was only a temptation of the vile manh. he said to him, "o wretched one, are you not aware that fear is no longer to be found in him who has become a rahanda?" manh, being discovered, vanished away, covered with shame and confusion at the abortiveness of his malicious attempt. in the same year, buddha went to kapilawot, which is in the thekka country, and took up his residence in the nigranda monastery, situated close to the banks of the river rohani. at that place he spent the fifteenth season. on a certain day, his cousin mahanan, the son of thoodaudana, came to the monastery, and having paid his respects to his illustrious relative, took the liberty to propose to him the four following questions:-- . in what consists the fulfilment of the religious duties? . what is meant by the religious disposition? . what is the real renouncing? . what is the true knowledge? buddha replied in the following manner: "the fulfilment of the religious duties consists in observing carefully the five precepts obligatory on all men. the religious disposition is but a loving inclination and affection for all that refers to buddha and the law that he has published. he who possesses it experiences a continual longing for the acquisition of merits. the renouncing is that disposition a man is habitually in when he finds his pleasure in parting with his riches for the purpose of relieving the needy and bestowing alms on the members of the assembly. finally, wisdom consists in making one's self perfectly acquainted with what can procure merits for the present and the future; under its influence man acts up to that knowledge, and also attends with the utmost diligence to what may put an end to the law of miseries." even among his nearest relatives, buddha was doomed to meet with the bitterest enemies. thouppabuda, who was at once his uncle and his father-in-law, bore to him a deadly hatred, and secretly harboured in his heart a sentiment of revenge, for two principal reasons, because his daughter yathaudara had been abandoned by gaudama, when he left his palace and began the life of an ascetic; and also for having admitted his own son dewadat among the members of the assembly. having been informed that on the following day buddha would direct his steps towards a certain quarter of the town to beg his food, thouppabuda partook largely of intoxicating liquor, to nerve himself for the execution of the design he had in his mind, and went out in the direction in which gaudama was expected to come. as soon as he saw him drawing near, he planted himself in the middle of the road, barring the passage, and loading his great relative with abuses. buddha stopped awhile without showing the least sign of emotion. then turning to ananda, he said, "great is the crime of my uncle; seven days hence he shall be swallowed up alive by the earth at the foot of the great staircase of his palace." on this fearful prediction being reported to thouppabuda, he laughed and stated that he would stay during eight days in the upper story of his palace, and belie his nephew's prediction. despite the precautions that he took, the fatal prediction was literally fulfilled. the unfortunate unrepenting prince saw the earth burst open under his feet, and he was precipitated to the very bottom of the awidzi hell. buddha took advantage of the awful punishment that had befallen a prince of his family to exhort mahanan to seek a firm asylum in the three precious things, to bear a sincere love and an affectionate fondness to all that related to the law and its practices. up to the present period of his life, buddha had reserved to himself the right of preaching the law to and extolling the merits of those who had brought him his food, after having partaken of their liberal donation. this instruction may be properly called the sermon of thanksgiving. it is called anou-mau-dana. now he allowed his disciples to do the like, and repay the generosity of their benefactors by distributing unto them the knowledge of truth. at that time buddha preached the four laws of a-sa-wan, or the four bands that retain a being in the vortex of existences. from kapilawot buddha returned to thawattie in the dzetawon monastery. at that time a nat had proposed four questions to his companions which they had not been able to answer. they were subsequently communicated to all the denizens of the six seats of nats, but no one had been able to solve the difficulty. not knowing what to do, they agreed to refer the particulars to the most excellent buddha, then in the dzetawon monastery. a deputation was forthwith sent to him with the view of proposing to him the puzzle, and entreating him to condescend to give the much-desired solution. the members of the deputation having duly paid their respects, said to him, "o most excellent phra, which is the best thing to be bestowed in alms? which is the most savoury and relishing of all things? which is the most pleasurable? which is the best and the fittest thing to put an end to passions?" to these four questions buddha answered by one word--"the law." addressing himself both to the nats and to his assembled disciples, he added, "the giving of alms, though good in itself, cannot introduce a being into the path that leads to the deliverance. the law alone can afford such a benefit. the preaching of the law, and the exertions in communicating its knowledge to others, are therefore the most excellent alms. all that in this world confers pleasure to the senses is but a means to plunge man into the vortex of existences, and thereby into all miseries. on the contrary, the hearing of the law rejoices the heart to such an extent as often to open a spring of joyful tears; it destroys concupiscence, and leads gradually out of the whirlpool of existences. it establishes man in the state of arahat, which is the end of all passions. the law, therefore, is the most savoury, the most pleasing thing, leading beings to the cessation of all miseries. you, my beloved disciples, exert yourselves in making known by your preaching the said law to all beings. this is the most excellent alms that you can bestow on the beings that inhabit the three different states of men, nats, and brahmas." buddha soon left thawattie and went to alawee. a biloo was in the habit of eating every day some children of that place. owing to the ravenous and horrible appetite of the monster, all the children had been eaten up; there remained only the child of the king, who was on the following day to be given over to him. buddha reviewed, as usual, on a certain morning the condition of all beings. he saw the sad position of the king of alawee and of his son. he resolved to proffer assistance to both, and also to convert the biloo. he arrived in the country of alawee, where he was received with every mark of respect. he forthwith went into the forest where the monster lived. at first he met with a most determined and violent opposition. but, opposing to his enraged antagonist meekness, patience, and kindness, buddha gradually softened that terrible nature. concealing affectedly the change which was taking place in him, almost against his perverse inclination, the biloo said to buddha, "i have put certain questions to many famous ascetics, but they have not been able to answer them. on seeing their utter incapacity, i have seized them, torn their bodies in pieces, and flung their quivering limbs into the ganges. such shall be your fate, o gaudama, if your science fails you on this occasion. by what means can a man get out of the stream or current of passions? how can he cross over the sea of existences? how can he free himself from the evil influence? how shall he be able to purify himself from the smallest stain of concupiscence?" buddha replied: "listen, o biloo, to my words; my answer shall fully satisfy you. by faith in and affection for the three precious things, man escapes from the current of passions. he who applies himself with a diligent earnestness to the study of the law of merits passes over the sea of existences. he who strives to practise the works that procure merits frees himself from evil influence, and from the attending miseries. finally, the knowledge of the four meggas or ways to perfection procures perfect exemption from the least remnant of concupiscence." the biloo, delighted with what he had heard, believed in buddha, and soon was firmly established in the state of thautapan. on that spot, where so glorious and unexpected a conversion had taken place, a monastery was erected. buddha spent herein the sixteenth season. as usual, myriads of nats and men who had heard his preachings obtained the deliverance. from alawee buddha went to radzagio, and spent the seventeenth season in the weloowon monastery. during that season a famous courtesan, named thirima, sister of the celebrated physician dzewaka, renowned all over the country for her wit and the incomparable charms of her person, wished to show her liberality to the disciples of buddha. every day a certain number of them went to her dwelling to receive, along with their food, abundant alms. one of the pious mendicants, in an unguarded moment, moved by an unholy curiosity, looked at her, and was instantly smitten by her charms. the mortal wound was widened and deepened by a fortuitous occurrence. on a certain day thirima fell sick. but she did not relax in her daily work of charity. weak though she was, and in her _negligée_, she insisted on the mendicants being introduced into her room, that she might pay her respects to them. the unfortunate lover was among the company. her incomparable charms were heightened by her plain dress and drooping attitude. the poor lover went back with his brethren to the monastery. the arrow had penetrated to the core of the heart. he refused to take any food, and during some days completely estranged himself from the society of his brethren. while the intestine war raged in his bosom, thirima died. buddha, desirous to cure the moral distemper of the poor religious, invited king pimpasara to be present when he should go with his disciples to see the remains of thirima. on the fourth day after thirima's death he went to her house with his disciples. there her body was laid before them, with a livid appearance, and all swollen. countless worms already issuing out through the apertures, rendered the sight loathsome, whilst a horrible stench almost forbade a standing close to it. buddha coolly asked the king, "what is that object which is stretched before us?" "thirima's body," replied the king. "when she was alive," retorted buddha, "people paid a thousand pieces of silver to enjoy her for a day. would any one take her now for half that sum?" "no," replied the king; "in all my kingdom there is not one man who would offer the smallest sum to have her remains; nay, no one could be found who would be willing to carry her to any distance unless compelled to do so." buddha, addressing the assembly, said, "behold all that remains of thirima, who was so famous for her personal attractions! what has become of that form which deceived and enslaved so many? all is subjected to mutability; there is nothing real in this world." on hearing the instruction, eighty-two thousand persons obtained the knowledge of the four truths. the rahan who, because of his passion, would not eat his food, was entirely cured of his moral distemper, and firmly established in the state of thautapan. all this happened whilst buddha spent his seventeenth season in the bamboo-grove monastery. when the season was over, he went, as usual, to preach in every direction, and returned to thawattie, to the dzetawon monastery. his stay in that place was not long. he undertook another voyage to alawee. he was received with the greatest demonstrations of joy by the people, who gladly ministered to all his wants. on a certain day, when he was to receive large offerings from the people and preach to them, it happened on that occasion that a poor pounha, who was very desirous to hear his instructions, was informed at an early hour of that very day that one of his cows had gone astray from the herd and could not be found. hereupon he felt greatly aggrieved. he was afraid to let go the golden opportunity to hear the instruction. however, he trusted that by making the utmost diligence he would be back in time. he ran in all haste until he found the strayed animal and brought it back. it was nearly midday when he returned to the town. though pressed with the pangs of hunger and overwhelmed with fatigue, he went straight forward to the place where the congregation was assembled. the offerings had been brought a long while ago; the people out of respect stood motionless, with their hands joined, in the presence of buddha, who, contrary to the general expectation, remained perfectly silent. with his supernatural vision he had seen the perfect dispositions of the poor pounha. he would have him to share in the blessing of his instruction. as soon as the pounha had taken his place among the hearers, buddha, casting a benevolent glance towards him, beckoned him to come near his person. meantime, he ordered some of his disciples to bring the poor man some food, because he was very hungry; and he would not condescend to begin the instruction till the man had been relieved from the pangs of hunger by a good meal. when the preaching was over, several rahans ridiculed the attention paid by their master to a common man. buddha, knowing their innermost thoughts, spoke to them by way of an instructive rebuke: "beloved sons, you seem to be surprised at my behaviour towards that poor pounha. but i had perceived at once the super-excellent dispositions of that man, his craving for the holy law, and his lively and strong faith in me, which prompted him to lay no stress on hunger, nor on fatigue, and to make no account of his personal discomforts, in order to satisfy his earnest longings for the law." on that occasion an immense number of hearers were converted. buddha went to a monastery built on a hill, near the town of tsalia, where he spent the eighteenth season. in that town there was a weaver, who had one daughter, who followed the same profession as her father. the damsel was very desirous to hear buddha's preachings; but on the day when buddha was to come into the town to deliver instructions to the people, it happened she had to finish the weaving of a piece of cloth that was urgently required by the owner. she then said to herself: i will exert myself with so much diligence that i will be enabled both to finish my work and listen to my teacher's preaching. she set instantly to work, wound up the thread on the quill, and took it with her, to carry it to the shed where her father's loom was. on her way to the shed, she had to pass near the place where a motionless congregation stood before buddha, eagerly waiting for the words that were to fall from his mouth. she laid aside her quill, loaded with thread, and squatted timidly behind the last rank of the congregation. buddha had seen at a glance the perfect dispositions of the young girl. it was chiefly for her benefit that he had undertaken a long journey and come over to that place. as soon as he saw her, he made her draw nearer to him. the injunction was joyfully complied with. with an encouraging tone of voice, buddha asked her whence she came and whither she was going. the damsel modestly answered that she knew whence she came, and also whither she was going; at the same time, she added that she was ignorant of the place she came from, and of the place she was going to. on hearing this apparently contradictory answer, many of the hearers could scarcely refrain from giving vent to indignant feelings. but buddha, who had fathomed the girl's wisdom, prayed them to be silent. then, turning towards his young interlocutor, he desired her to explain the meaning of her answer. she said: "i know that i come from my father's house, and that i go to our loom-shed; but what existence i have come from to this present one, this i am entirely ignorant of. i am likewise uncertain about the existence that shall follow this one. about these two points i am completely ignorant; my mind can discover neither the one nor the other." buddha extolled the wisdom of the damsel, and forthwith began his instruction. at the conclusion, she was firmly grounded in the state of thautapan. she withdrew immediately, took up her quill, and went to the shed. it happened that her father was asleep, with his hand on the loom's handle. she approached the loom, and began to arrange the thread. her father, awaking suddenly, pushed inadvertently the part of the loom his hand was laid upon, and struck his daughter in the chest. she fell down and instantly expired. overwhelmed with grief, the unfortunate father poured a flood of tears over the lifeless corpse of his daughter. unable to console himself, he rose up and went to buddha, in the hope of receiving some comfort at his feet. buddha affectionately received him, and, by his good instructions, relieved him from the load that pressed on his heart, and gradually enlightening his mind by the preaching of the four great truths, he gently infused into his heart and his soul that sweet joy which wisdom alone can impart. the weaver resolved to abandon the world, asked for admittance into the assembly, and not long after became a rahanda. this conversion was followed by that of a great many others. buddha returned to radzagio, and spent the nineteenth season in the weloowon monastery. the season being over, buddha went into the districts of magatha, preaching in all places. previous to that time, there lived at radzagio a rich man who had an only daughter, who was brought up with the greatest care and the utmost fondness. she lived in the upper apartments of a splendid dwelling. on a certain day, at an early hour in the morning, she was looking on the people that flocked from the country into the town. she saw among many a young hunter driving a cart loaded with venison. she much admired his fine, energetic appearance. she was instantly enamoured of him, and made all the necessary arrangements to elope with him. she succeeded, married the hunter, and had by him a large family. passing on one day through a forest, the most excellent buddha chanced to meet with a deer which was caught in the net of a hunter. moved with feelings of commiseration, he helped the poor beast to get out of the meshes. after this benevolent action, he went to rest under a tree. the hunter soon made his appearance, and to his great dismay at once discovered that some one had deprived him of his prey. whilst he was looking about, he saw buddha, in his yellow dress, calmly resting under the shade of a large tree. "this," said the hunter to himself, "is the man who has done the mischief; i will make him pay dear for his undue interference." hereupon he hastily took up an arrow and placed it on the bow, with the intention of shooting dead the evildoer. but despite his exertions, heightened by the thirst for revenge, he could not succeed; both his hands were seized with a sudden quivering, and his feet appeared as if nailed to the ground. he stood motionless in that attitude. absorbed in meditation, buddha was not aware what was going on so close to him. the sons of the hunter as well as their wives grew very much troubled that their father did not return at the usual hour from visiting his nets. they feared that some untoward accident had overtaken him. they armed themselves and went in search of him. they soon came to the spot where they saw the sad position of their father. at the same moment, perceiving a yellow-dressed individual, they hastily concluded, that, by the power of some charms, he had brought their father into this miserable condition. they made up their mind to kill him. but whilst they were preparing to put their cruel design into execution, their hands, suddenly benumbed, could not grasp the weapons, and they all stood motionless and speechless. awaking at last from contemplation, buddha saw the hunter and all his family standing before him. taking compassion on them, he restored them to their ordinary condition, and preached to them. they all fell at his knees, craved his pardon, believed in him, and became fervent upasakas. buddha returned to thawattie to spend the twentieth season in the dzetawon monastery. it was at that period that there happened a remarkable change in the management of the domestic affairs of gaudama. up to the present time, no one among the religious had been specially appointed to attend on buddha and administer to his wants. but some of them, as circumstances occurred, undertook the agreeable and honourable duty of serving him. however human nature will occasionally let appear, even in the best of men, some marks of its innate imperfections. on two occasions, the rahans who followed buddha and carried his mendicant's pot and a portion of his dress wished to go in one direction, whilst buddha desired them to follow in another. they had the imprudence to part company with him. both paid dearly for their disobedience. they fell into the hands of robbers, who took away all that they had, and beat them severely on the head. this twofold act of insubordination painfully affected buddha. he summoned all the religious into his presence, and declared that, being old, he wished to appoint one of them to the permanent office of personal attendant on himself. thariputra and maukalan immediately tendered their services with a pious and loving earnestness. but buddha declined to accept their offer, as well as that of the eighty principal disciples. the reason was, that their services were required for preaching to the people, and labouring with him for the dissemination of the true science among men. some of the disciples urged ananda to volunteer his services; but out of modesty he remained silent. then he added that, should buddha be willing to accept his humble services, he knew his heart's dispositions and his willingness to attend on him on all occasions; he had but to signify his good pleasure. as to him, he would be too happy to accept the office. buddha expressed his readiness to confer on him the honourable employment. he was formally appointed and nominated phra's attendant, and, during the twenty-five remaining seasons, he acted as the beloved and devoted attendant on buddha's person. through him alone visitors were ushered into buddha's presence, and orders were communicated to the members of the assembly. gaudama was then fifty-five years old. on a certain day he went to the village of dzantoo for the purpose of collecting alms. manh nat, his inveterate foe, entered into the heart of all the villagers to prevent them from giving alms to the mendicant. he succeeded so well in his wicked design that no one noticed gaudama's passage through the street, nor gave him alms. when he drew near to the gate, manh stood by the side of the street, and asked him, with a sarcastic tone, how he felt under the pangs of hunger. buddha replied to him, that he could, by entering into the state of perfect trance, remain, like the great brahma, without using material food, feeding only, as it were, on the inward happiness created by the immediate sight of unclouded truth. five hundred young virgins, who happened to return from the country into the place, prostrated themselves before buddha, listened to his instructions, and reached the state of thautapan. on leaving the place, buddha happened to travel through a forest, which had become an object of terror to all the people of kothala, as being the favourite haunt of ougalimala, a notorious robber and murderer. the ruler of the country, pasenadi, had heard from the windows of his palace the cries of his alarmed subjects. despite the many remonstrances that were made concerning the dangers of such an attempt, buddha went straight forward to the den of the formidable man, who, enraged at such presumptuous boldness, was preparing to make him pay dear for his intrusion. but he had to deal with an opponent that could not easily be frightened. to his threats and attempts to inflict harm gaudama opposed the meekest composure, the mildest expressions, and an invincible patience. softened by the kindness of his opponent, ougalimala altered the tone of his voice, and showed signs of respect to buddha. the latter, quickly perceiving the change that had taken place in the robber's soul, preached to him the law, and made of him a sincere convert. coming out from the forest which had been the scene of so many crimes, he followed buddha, with the behaviour of an humble disciple. the people of kosala could scarcely give credit to the change that had taken place in ougalimala. in a short time he became a rahanda, and died not long after he had become perfect. the members of the assembly were, on a certain day, talking among themselves about the place he had probably migrated to. buddha, who had overheard their conversation on this subject, said to them: "beloved bickus, the rahan ougalimala, who died a little while after his conversion, has reached the deliverance. his conversion was at once prompt and perfect. he was very wicked previous to his conversion, because he never cohabited except with wicked and perverse associates, the company of whom led him into all sorts of disorders. but he no sooner had the good fortune to meet me, hear my instructions, and converse with you, than he at once believed in my doctrine, adhered to me with all his might, and entered into the way leading to perfection. he laboured strenuously to destroy in himself the law of demerits, and thus rapidly reached the summit of perfection." chapter xii. _buddha is slandered in thawattie -- questions put to him by a pounha -- story of anatapein's daughter -- conversion of a pounha whose navel emitted rays of light -- blank in a great part of buddha's life -- story of dewadat -- his jealousy towards buddha -- his friendship with prince adzatathat -- his ambition -- his attempt to kill buddha -- his miserable end._ while the most excellent buddha was in the dzetawon monastery, the heretics of thawattie made another attempt to lower, nay, to destroy his reputation. they prevailed upon thondarie, a woman entirely devoted to their interests, to spread the rumour that she had spent a night in the apartments of buddha. when the calumny had been noised abroad, they suborned a gang of drunkards, to whom they promised a large sum of money, if they would do away with the instrument of the slander. they accordingly selected a favourable opportunity, killed thondarie, and threw her body into a cluster of bushes close to the monastery. when the crime had been perpetrated, the heretics raised a cry all over the country inquiring about thondarie. she could nowhere be found. search was made in every direction, until at last, by the secret directions of their emissaries, the body was found on the spot where it had been apparently concealed. the party hostile to buddha laid the crime at his door. the king of the country, urged on by them, ordered a strict inquiry to be made. the infamous trick was at last discovered in the following manner. the perpetrators of the deed happened to go into a drinking-place. heated by the liquor they had taken, they began to accuse each other of having killed thondarie. their conversation was overheard by one of the king's servants, who had them arrested and led to the palace. the king said to them, "wicked men, is it true that you have killed the woman thondarie?" they answered, "it is true we have killed her." "who advised you to commit the murder?" "the deitty teachers, who have paid us one thousand pieces of silver." indignant at such a horrible deed, the king ordered the murderers and their advisers to be put to death. their punishment consisted in their being buried in the earth up to their waist. they were subsequently covered with a heap of straw, which being set fire to, they were burnt to death. buddha told his disciples that what had happened on this melancholy occasion was but a just retribution for his having in a former existence been drunk, and in that state abused and slandered a holy personage. in one of his preaching excursions, gaudama converted a distinguished pounha, who asked him, "illustrious buddha, what has the great brahma done to merit the extraordinary glory that encompasses his person and the unsurpassed felicity that he enjoys?" to whom he answered, "the great brahma, during several existences, has bestowed abundant alms on the needy, delivered many people from great perils, and delighted in giving instruction to the ignorant. such meritorious deeds have procured for him the transcendent rank that he occupies, and secured to him for an immense period of time the matchless happiness that he possesses." two rich men, one of thawattie, and the other a denizen of the ougga city, had in their youth, when engaged in their studies, promised each other that he who should have a daughter would give her in marriage to the son of the other. when they had grown up, the rich man of thawattie became a disciple of buddha, but his friend followed the teachings of the heretics. in due time anatapein, for such was the name of the former, had a beautiful daughter. his friend ougga had also a fine grown-up son. it came to pass that ougga on a certain day arrived from his place with five hundred carts of goods to thawattie, for the purpose of trading. he lodged, as a matter of course, in his friend's house. during the conversation ougga reminded his host of their former promise, and declared that he would be too happy to have it fulfilled without delay. anatapein, having consulted his wife and daughter, and secured their consent, agreed to the proposal that was made to him. the pious rich man, however, was somewhat concerned respecting the dangers of his daughter's position in the midst of upholders of false doctrines. he gave her a retinue of female attendants, who could, by their advice and conversation, maintain intact in her the faith in buddha. when the bride arrived, after a long journey, to ougga's city, she was desired by her father-in-law to go in the company of his wife to pay her respects to his teachers, who were sitting quite naked, with dishevelled hairs, in the midst of the most disgusting uncleanness, under a shed prepared for them. unused to such an unsightly and revolting display, the modest girl recoiled back with a becoming horror, refusing even to cast a look at them. enraged at the contempt shown to his teachers, the unnatural father-in-law threatened to send her away from his house, as being an unsuitable match for his son. firm in her faith, she withstood all the efforts that were made to induce her to alter her resolution and pay attention to such individuals. she went back into her apartments. having somewhat recovered her spirits, and regained her usual calm and serene composure, the pious young lady began, in the presence of her mother-in-law and other ladies of the town, to praise and extol the glory, modesty, meekness, and all the other qualifications which adorned her great teacher and his disciples. the hearers were delighted at all that they heard, and expressed an eager desire to see them and hear their instructions. on that very day the compassionate buddha was at an early hour, as usual, reviewing the beings dwelling on the island of dzampoudipa, endeavouring to discover those that were well disposed to hear the truth. his searching glance soon discovered what was going on in the house of the rich man ougga, and the good dispositions of many of its inmates. "thither," said he, "i shall hasten to preach the law, for many shall be converted." hereupon he summoned five hundred disciples to attend him. they all took their pattas and other articles. with his company he flew through the air, and soon alighted in the courtyard of the rich man's house. all were rejoiced to see buddha and his disciples. they lent a most attentive ear to his instructions. the rich man, his household, and a great number of the people of the town were converted. anouroudha was left at ougga to complete, perfect, and extend the good work so happily begun. buddha in all haste returned to thawattie. at that time a great noise was made throughout the country on account of a certain pounha whose navel emitted a sort of light in the shape of a moon. he belonged to the party of unbelievers. he was led by them into every village and town, as a living proof of the power they possessed. at last his friends introduced him into the dzetawon monastery. he was no sooner introduced into buddha's presence, when the prodigy suddenly ceased. he went away somewhat annoyed at his misfortune; but he had scarcely crossed the threshold of the monastery when the light reappeared. three times he came before the great preacher, and three times the light was completely eclipsed. no doubt could be entertained that there was in buddha some secret power superior to the one he possessed. the pounha was at once disconcerted and bewildered. in his ignorance he attributed the accident to some superior magical formula possessed by buddha, and asked him to teach him the said formula. buddha said to him, "o pounha! i possess no charm; i ignore all magical formulas. there is in me but one virtue; it is that which i have gathered at the foot of the bodi tree during the forty-nine days that i have spent there in the deepest meditation. as to what attracts now the attention of the people in your person, you are indebted for it to the offering of a gold coronet, in the shape of a moon, you made to a buddha during a former existence. the reward bestowed on you for such a good work is but a transient one. it can afford you no real, substantial, and lasting happiness. hearken to my doctrine; it will confer on you a never-ending recompense." he went on explaining to him many points of the law. the pounha believed in buddha; nay, he applied for the dignity of rahan, and finally became a rahanda. _n.b_.--the history of buddha offers an almost complete blank as to what regards his doings and preachings during a period of nearly twenty-three years,[ ] beginning with the twenty-first season, when he was fifty-six years old, and ending with the forty-fourth season, having reached the patriarchal age of seventy-nine years. so entirely are we kept in ignorance of the important transactions that took place during so long a portion of buddha's life, that the writer, after having vainly consulted several manuscripts, is reluctantly obliged to come to the same conclusion as that which the burmese authors have arrived at, viz., that there is a complete disagreement as to even the names of the places where buddha spent the twenty-three remaining seasons. out of regard for the rich man anatapein, who for so many years had been one of his most liberal supporters, buddha spent the greatest part of the remaining seasons in the dzetawon monastery. during the few others he seems to have stayed at or near radzagio, chiefly in the weloowon monastery. the amount of seasons spent by our phra from the time he obtained the buddhaship till his death is forty-five. i find related, as a fact worthy of notice, the donation by a rich widow of wethalie, named wisaka, of the celebrated pouppayon monastery. it was situated not far from the dzetawon, in an eastern direction from that famous place. it is mentioned that when phra sallied from the dzetawon monastery by the eastern gate, the people of the country knew that he was going to dwell for awhile in the pouppayon monastery; when, on the other hand, he was observed to leave it by the northern gate, all the people understood that he was undertaking a journey through the country for the purpose of preaching. the epoch of this donation is not certain. it appears from some particulars indirectly alluded to that it must have taken place when buddha was sixty years old. in following our manuscript, we find inserted in this place the detailed accounts respecting dewadat, related by buddha himself in the dzetawon monastery, in the presence of a large party of his disciples. the fact of buddha mentioning the name of adzatathat as king of radzagio, leaves no doubt respecting the time when the awful punishment is supposed to have been meted out to dewadat, on account of the many heinous sins laid to his charge. adzatathat, having murdered his father pimpathara, by starving him to death in a prison, became king of radzagio, and succeeded him when buddha was nearly seventy-two years old. he was already king, as the sequel will show, when dewadat was as yet his spiritual adviser. it is probable that the following narrative was made not more than two years after the above date. when the most excellent buddha was in the dzetawon monastery, alluding to the sad fate that had fallen dewadat, he related the causes that had brought on this dreadful occurrence. at a certain time, when buddha was spending a season in the kosamby country, the people came in great numbers every day to the monastery to bring abundant alms, and pay their respects to him and the assembly. on certain occasions they made inquiries about the most distinguished members of the assembly, such as thariputra, maukalan, anouroudda, ananda, bagoo, kimila, and others, giving utterance to the feelings of admiration and love they entertained towards them. but they never took the least notice of dewadat. the latter keenly resented the studied slight; the more so, because he thought that in his capacity of member of the assembly and of his royal descent, he was entitled to as much consideration as many others, who in this twofold respect were greatly his inferiors. he resolved to leave the company of buddha and go to some other place. he went to radzagio and ingratiated himself in the favours of the young prince adzatathat, son of king pimpathara, the young prince, taken up with the grave manners of the new-comer, acknowledged him as his teacher, and built for him a monastery on the yauthitha hill, close to the city. some years afterwards buddha came to radzagio to spend a season in the weloowon monastery. dewadat went to his monastery. having paid his respects in the usual manner and occupied a becoming place, he three times requested the permission of having an assembly or thinga of his own, quite distinct from the other, which was under the immediate management of buddha. on this point he three times received a direct refusal to his demand. from that day the jealousy he entertained towards buddha waxed to a base envy, which soon generated in his soul a deadly hatred against him. he made up his mind to break with buddha all ties of spiritual relationship, and to become the chief of a new religious body. to succeed in his impious design he required the support of the secular arm. the king of magatha was in favour of buddha, but his son had warmly espoused the cause of dewadat. in such a position, the evil-disposed dewadat advised prince adzatathat to compass the destruction of his father, in order to become king. the ambitious son followed the detestable advice, and put an end to his father's life by starving him to death in a prison, in spite of his own mother's exertions to save her royal husband's life. it was in the thirty-seventh season of buddha's public mission that adzatathat ascended the throne of magatha. under the new king's auspices, dewadat carried everything before him with a high hand. assured of the new king's support, he hired thirty bowmen and promised them an ample reward if they killed buddha. the ruffians gladly agreed to the proposal. but when they were on the point of committing the crime, they felt themselves overawed by the presence of buddha. instead of executing the order they had received, they fell at his feet, craved his pardon, listened to his preaching, and were converted one after the other. disappointed on this point, dewadat designed another plan to rid himself of the great preacher. he watched the moment when buddha was walking at the foot of a hill, named weitsa-gout. from the summit he rolled a large stone that was to crush his enemy. fortunately on its way down the hill's side it met with a small obstacle, on which it split into several parts. one splinter alone hurt the toe of one of buddha's feet, and severely bruised it. on hearing of such a nefarious and cowardly attempt, the disciples hastened to the spot and conveyed their beloved master to his monastery. they offered to keep guard round his person, to prevent the repetition of other attempts on his life. but buddha said to them that no mortal had the power to hurt him so far as to cause his death. he thanked them for this new token of their affectionate regard towards him, and bade them return to their respective places. the celebrated physician dzewaka, having been sent for, applied a bandage, which, being removed on the following morning, it was found, to the surprise and joy of all present, that the injured toe was perfectly cured. on another occasion dewadat made a last attempt on buddha's life, in the suburbs of radzagio, by the means of an elephant, infuriated and maddened by strong liquor forced into his throat. the animal was let loose in one of the streets which gaudama was perambulating gathering alms in his mendicant's pot. but far from doing any injury to buddha, the elephant, having come into his presence, stood for awhile, and then knelt before him in token of respect. in this manner dewadat signally failed in this last wicked attempt. dewadat differed from his cousin on some points of discipline; and this difference occasioned the schism that he meditated to establish.[ ] he had proposed to buddha to make it obligatory on all rahans to live in forests at the foot of certain trees; not to receive food from the people in their own places, but to use only as articles of food such things as they could procure by their exertions; to use robes made up of rags collected in the dust of public thoroughfares, and not such as might be offered by pious laymen; to abstain from fish and meat; and to dwell in unroofed places. gaudama positively refused to accede to his demands. meanwhile he meekly warned him against the sin of schism, telling him that the commission of such an offence would throw the perpetrator into the hell awidzi for a whole revolution of nature. deaf to such a salutary warning, dewadat precipitated himself into schism. he gained over to his party five hundred inexperienced rahans of the witzi country, and with them dwelt in the monastery of gayathitha. he signally failed in his attempt to draw ananda to his side. thariputra, by the advice of buddha, went to dewadat's place. profiting from the time he was asleep at a distance, he prevailed upon the five hundred rahans to abandon schism and return to buddha, the centre of unity, who was then in the dzetawon monastery in wethalie. rising from his sleep, dewadat fell into a paroxysm of rage at the trick played on him. he instantly resolved to start for the dzetawon monastery, to have his revenge on buddha for the injury done unto him. he was carried in a litter. messenger after messenger informed buddha of the approach of his antagonist. but he calmly said to his disciples: "beloved sons, do not trouble yourselves. dewadat shall not see my face nor enter the precincts of this place." information was, in haste, conveyed that dewadat had actually reached the tank close to the monastery, and was resting a while under the shade of a tree. gaudama calmly gave the same assurance to his trembling disciples. but the moment of a terrible punishment was at hand. dewadat, quitting his couch, stood up for a while, to refresh his wearied limbs. but he was seen by his astonished and bewildered companions gradually sinking into the earth, first up to his knees, then to his navel, and finally to his shoulders. at that moment he humbled himself, confessed his fault, acknowledged and proclaimed the glory of buddha. he then disappeared, wrapt in flame, and fell to the bottom of the hell awidzi. his punishment consists in having his feet sunk ankle-deep in a burning ground; his head is covered with a red-hot pan, that caps his head down to the lobe of the ears; two huge red-hot iron bars transfixt him horizontally from right to left, two from back to front, and one impales him from top to bottom. he shall have to suffer in that frightful position during a revolution of nature. but, for his tardy and sincere repentance, he shall be delivered, and, by his exertions in practising virtue, he shall become a pitzegabuddha, under the name of atisara. adzatathat ruled over the two countries of enga and magatha. his mother was waydahi, the sister of king pathenadi, who ruled over the two countries of kaci and kosala. adzatathat, who was of a bellicose temper, quarrelled with his uncle on account of some districts in kaci, which he seized by force of arms. unable to resist the army of his nephew, pathenadi offered to the invader the hand of his daughter watzera-komma. the offer was accepted, and a reconciliation followed. three years afterwards, pathenadi lost his throne, which was seized by meittadoubba, a son he had had by a concubine. pathenadi went to radzagio to ask assistance against the usurper from his son-in-law. but he died on his way to that place. it was under the rule of meittadoubba, in the forty-fourth season, that occurred the total destruction of the thagiwi princes of kosala and kapilawot by the ambitious adzatathat. buddha spent the forty-fourth season in the dzetawon monastery. when the season was over, he went to dwell in the weitzagout monastery, near radzagio. while he was in that place, there was spread a rumour that adzatathat entertained hostile feelings towards wethalie. buddha then foretold that as long as the princes of wethalie would be united and avoid internal strife and contention, they would be more than a match for their enemy; but should quarrel take place among them, they and their country would fall an easy prey to the invader. these words, which fell from buddha's mouth, were not forgotten by a pounha who was one of adzatathat's ministers. he planned, with his royal mother's consent and secret encouragement, the destruction of the rulers of wethalie, and the conquest of that country, by contriving to sow the seed of dissension among the letziwi princes. his plan met with complete success some years later, about three years after gaudama's neibban, as we shall have the opportunity of relating. footnotes [ ] this short summary of buddha's life, indicating but little more than the names of the places where he had spent twenty seasons, and leaving us in the dark as to all the particulars regarding the twenty-three other seasons, is another illustration of the assertion, made in some foregoing passages, that the present compilation is very concise and imperfect, supplying us with but an outline of buddha's proceedings during the course of his preachings. he reached the age of eighty. according to the authority of this legend, buddha lived forty-five years after he had obtained the buddhaship. he was therefore thirty-five when he began his public life and entered the career of preaching the law. it is not in my power to say anything positive respecting the antiquity of this work, but the statement of the main facts is borne out by the united testimony of the buddhistic works existing in various parts and in different languages of eastern asia. if it be true that our buddha lived so long, we must believe that his time during the last twenty-five years was employed in the same benevolent undertaking, viz., to preach the sacred law and point out to beings the way that shall lead them to the deliverance. many volumes are full of the disputes on religious subjects between buddha and the heretics, that is to say, his opponents. we may conclude that those controversies took place during the latter part of buddha's life, as it cannot be doubted that they increased in proportion to the progress the new doctrines made among the people. if, however, we are in great part kept in the dark respecting the doings of the great reformer during a long period of his public life, we are amply compensated by the account of many interesting circumstances that occurred chiefly during the last year of his earthly career. [ ] dewadat, in insisting upon the adoption of regulations of a more rigid character, intended to imitate, to a certain extent, the conduct of the mendicants of the opposite party. he aimed at rivalling them in the practice of austere observances. it does not appear that he innovated in the dogmas that he had learned at the school of his great teacher. as his royal pupil, adzatathat, had hitherto supported the party of the pounhas, it is not improbable that dewadat wished to lessen the differences between the practices and observances of the two parties, to render them less perceptible, and by doing so, to prepare the way, by gradual approximation, for a complete fusion. he exhibited himself in the character of a rigid reformer, who was displeased with the too lenient tenor of the disciplinary regulations instituted by buddha. be that as it may, it is certain that jealousy in the beginning inspired him with the idea of separating from the assembly. this first step led him farther than he at first contemplated. he wished to set up an assembly, or thinga of his own, and thereby to place himself on a footing of equality and rivalry with his cousin. meeting with greater resistance than he expected, and being convinced that he could not succeed so long as buddha should be alive, he did not shrink from making several attempts on his life. it is a fact worthy of notice that the disturbances which took place subsequently in the buddhist society had their origin, in most instances, in points of discipline of a trivial importance, which were altered or rejected by a fraction of the assembly, whilst they were upheld with the utmost tenacity by the greater portion of the rahans, as having been established by gaudama. this observation will be fully corroborated by the particulars that we shall relate on the subject of the councils or meetings held after gaudama's death. end of vol. i. printed by ballantyne, hanson & co. edinburgh & london trübner's oriental series. [illustration] kegan paul, trench, trÜbner & co. ltd dryden house, gerrard street, london, w. "a knowledge of the commonplace, at least, of oriental literature, philosophy, and religion is as necessary to the general reader of the present day as an acquaintance with the latin and greek classics was a generation or so ago. immense strides have been made within the present century in these branches of learning; sanskrit has been brought within the range of accurate philology, and its invaluable ancient literature thoroughly investigated; the language and sacred books of the zoroastrians have been laid bare; egyptian, assyrian, and other records of the remote past have been deciphered, and a group of scholars speak of still more recondite accadian and hittite monuments; but the results of all the scholarship that has been devoted to these subjects have been almost inaccessible to the public because they were contained for the most part in learned or expensive works, or scattered throughout the numbers of scientific periodicals. messrs. trübner & co., in a spirit of enterprise which does them infinite credit, have determined to supply the constantly-increasing want, and to give in a popular, or, at least, a comprehensive form, all this mass of knowledge to the world."--_times._ the late oriental scholar, mr. romesh c. dutt, c.i.e., says:-- "i wish to say a word about this series, because i am in a special degree indebted to it. professor max müller, who has, by his lifelong labours, done more than any living scholar to elucidate ancient hindu literature and history, has now conceived the noble idea of enabling english readers to go to the fountain source, and consult oriental works in a series of faithful translations. more than thirty volumes, translated from the sanscrit, chinese, zend, pahlair, pàli, arabic, &c., have already been published, and more volumes are expected. i take this opportunity to own my great indebtedness to the volumes of this series which relate to indian history. i have freely quoted from them--allowing myself the liberty of a verbal alteration here and there; and i have seldom thought it necessary to consult these original sanscrit works which have been translated in this faithful and valuable series." * * * * * in two volumes, post vo, cloth, pp. and , price s. net. albÊrÛnÎ's india. an account of the religion, philosophy, literature, geography, chronology, astronomy, customs, laws, and astrology of india about a.d. . an english edition, with notes and indices. by dr. edward c. sachau, professor in the royal university of berlin, and principal of the seminary for oriental languages; member of the royal academy of berlin, and corresponding member of the imperial academy of vienna honorary member of the asiatic society of great britain and ireland, london, and of the american oriental society, cambridge, u.s.a. extract from preface. albêrûnî, or, as his compatriots called him, abû raihân, was born a.d. , in the territory of modern khiva, then called khwârizm, or chorasmia in antiquity. early distinguishing himself in science and literature, he played a political part as councillor of the ruling prince of his native country of the ma'mûni family. in the opening of his book albêrûnî gives an account of the circumstances which suggested to him the idea of writing the [greek: indiká]. once the conversation with a friend of his, else unknown, ran on the then existing literature on the history of religion and philosophy, its merits and demerits. when, in particular, the literature on the belief of the hindus came to be criticised, albêrûnî maintained that all of it was second-hand and thoroughly uncritical. to verify the matter, his friend once more examines the books in question, which results in his agreeing with our author, and his asking him to fill up this gap in the arabic literature of the time. the book he has produced is not a polemical one. he will not convert the hindus, nor lend a direct help to missionary zealots. he will simply describe hinduism, without identifying himself with it. he takes care to inform the reader that he is not responsible for whatsoever repugnant detail he has to relate, but the hindus themselves. he gives a repertory of information on indian subjects, destined for the use of those who lived in peaceable intercourse with them, and wished to have an insight into their mode and world of thought. the author has nothing in common with the muhammadan ghâzî who wanted to convert the hindus or to kill them, and his book scarcely reminds the reader of the incessant war between islam and india, during which it had been prepared, and by which the possibility of writing such a book had first been given. it is like a magic island of quiet, impartial research in the midst of a world of clashing swords, burning towns, and plundered temples. the object which the author had in view, and never for a moment lost sight of, was to afford the necessary information and training to "_any one_ (in islam) _who wants to converse with the hindus, and to discuss with them questions of religion, science, or literature, on the very basis of their own civilisation_." in general, it is the method of our author not to speak himself, but to let the hindus speak, giving extensive quotations from their classical authors. he presents a picture of indian civilisation as painted by the hindus themselves. many chapters, not all, open with a short characteristic introduction of a general nature. the body of most chapters consists of three parts. the first is a _précis_ of the question, as the author understands it. the second part brings forward the doctrines of the hindus, quotations from sanskrit books in the chapters on religion, philosophy, astronomy, and astrology, and other kinds of information which had been communicated to him by word of mouth, or things which he had himself observed in the chapters on literature, historic chronology, geography, law, manners, and customs. in the third part he does the same as megasthenes had already done; he tries to bring the sometimes very exotic subject nearer to the understanding of his readers by comparing it with the theories of ancient greece, and by other comparisons. in the disposition of every single chapter, as well as in the sequence of the chapters, a perspicuous, well-considered plan is apparent. there is no patchwork nor anything superfluous, and the words fit to the subject as close as possible. he does not blindly accept the traditions of former ages; he wants to understand and to criticise them. he wants to sift the wheat from the chaff, and he will discard everything that militates against the laws of nature and of reason. he criticises manuscript tradition like a modern philologist. he sometimes supposes the text to be corrupt, and inquires into the cause of the corruption; he discusses various readings, and proposes emendations. he guesses at _lacunæ_, criticises different translations, and complains of the carelessness and ignorance of the copyists. this valuable and interesting work has been out of print for many years, and second-hand copies have been very difficult to obtain even at a high premium. at the urgent request of many scholars and students both in england and india, the publishers have decided to issue the present reprint at a cheaper price than the original edition. * * * * * post vo, pp. viii. and , cloth, price s. indian poetry: containing "the indian song of songs." from the sanskrit of the "gita govinda" of jayadeva; two books from "the iliad of india" (mah[.a]bhârata), "proverbial wisdom" from the shlokas of the hitopadesa, and other oriental poems. by sir edwin arnold, m.a., k.c.i.e., c.s.i., &c., &c. contents. the indian song of songs-- introduction. hymn to vishnu. sarga the first--the sports of krishna. sarga the second--the penitence of krishna. sarga the third--krishna troubled. sarga the fourth--krishna cheered. sarga the fifth--the longings of krishna. sarga the sixth--krishna made bolder. sarga the seventh--krishna supposed false. sarga the eighth--the rebuking of krishna. sarga the ninth--the end of krishna's trial. sarga the tenth--krishna in paradise. sarga the eleventh--the union of radha and krishna. miscellaneous oriental poems-- the rajpoot wife. king saladin. the caliph's draught. hindoo funeral song. song of the serpent charmers. song of the flour-mill. taza ba taza. the mussulman paradise. dedication of a poem from the sanskrit. the rajah's ride. two books from "the iliad of india." the great journey. the entry into heaven. the night of slaughter. the morning prayer. proverbial wisdom from the shlokas of the hitopadesa. opinions of the press. "in this new volume sir edwin arnold does good service by illustrating, through the medium of his musical english melodies, the power of indian poetry to stir european emotions. 'the indian song of songs' is not unknown to scholars. sir edwin arnold will have introduced it among popular english poems."--_times._ "complete mastery of the english language, combined with genuine poetic fervour, has enabled the translator of 'the indian song of songs' to spread before his readers a feast of dulcet sounds and lyrical language. music seems to flow from his pen as naturally as rain from the cloud or song from the throat of the thrush."--_morning post._ "the poem abounds with imagery of eastern luxuriousness and sensuousness; the air seems laden with the spicy odours of the tropics, and the verse has a richness and a melody sufficient to captivate the senses of the dullest."--_standard._ * * * * * third edition. post vo, pp. viii.- , cloth, price s. the s[=a]nkhya aphorisms of kapila, with illustrative extracts from the commentaries. translated by j. r. ballantyne, ll.d., late principal of the benares college. edited by fitzedward hall. "the work displays a vast expenditure of labour and scholarship, for which students of hindoo philosophy have every reason to be grateful to dr. hall and the publishers."--_calcutta review._ * * * * * fourth edition. post vo, cloth, pp. xxiv.- , price s. the religions of india. by a. barth, member of the société asiatique of paris. authorised translation by rev. j. wood, edin. india has not only preserved for us in her vedas the most ancient and complete documents for the study of the old religious beliefs founded on nature-worship, which, in an extremely remote past, were common to all the branches of the indo-european family; she is also the only country where these beliefs, in spite of many changes both in form and fortune, continue to subsist up to the present time. whilst everywhere else they have been either as good as extinguished by monotheistic religions of foreign origin, in some instances without leaving behind them a single direct and authentic trace of their presence, or abruptly cut short in their evolution and forced to survive within the barriers, henceforth immovable, of a petty church, as in the case of parseeism,--in india alone they present up to this time, as a rich and varied literature attests, a continuous, self-determined development, in the course of which, instead of contracting, they have continued to enlarge their borders. it is owing in a great measure to this extraordinary longevity that such an interest attaches to the separate and independent study of the hindu religions, irrespective altogether of the estimate we may form of their dogmatic or practical worth. nowhere else do we meet with circumstances, on the whole, so favourable for the study of the successive transformations and destiny, so to speak, of a polytheistic idea of the universe. * * * * * post vo, cloth. pp. cviii.- and viii.- . two volumes, price s. si-yu-ki. buddhist records of the western world. translated from the chinese of huien tsiang (a.d. ). by samuel beal, b.a. (trin. col., camb.), r.n. (retired chaplain and n.i.), professor of chinese, university college, london; rector of wark, northumberland, &c. the progress which has been made in our knowledge of northern buddhism during the last few years is due very considerably to the discovery of the buddhist literature of china. this literature (now well known to us through the catalogues already published) contains, amongst other valuable works, the records of the travels of various chinese buddhist pilgrims who visited india during the early centuries of our era. these records embody the testimony of independent eyewitnesses as to the facts related in them, and having been faithfully preserved and allotted a place in the collection of the sacred book of the country, their evidence is entirely trustworthy. it would be impossible to mention _seriatim_ the various points of interest in these works, as they refer to the geography, history, manners, and religion of the people of india. the reader who looks into the pages of this book will find ample material for study on all these questions. but there is one particular that gives a more than usual interest to the records under notice, and that is the evident sincerity and enthusiasm of the travellers themselves. never did more devoted pilgrims leave their native country to encounter the perils of travel in foreign and distant lands; never did disciples more ardently desire to gaze on the sacred vestiges of their religion; never did men endure greater sufferings by desert, mountain, and sea than these simple-minded, earnest buddhist priests. and that such courage, religious devotion, and power of endurance should be exhibited by men so sluggish, as we think, in their very nature as the chinese, this is very surprising, and may perhaps arouse some consideration. * * * * * in two volumes, post vo, pp. xii.- and x.- , cloth, price s. mediÆval researches from eastern asiatic sources. fragments towards the knowledge of the geography and history of central and western asia from the thirteenth to the seventeenth century. by e. bretschneider, m.d., formerly physician of the russian legation at pekin. extract from preface the subjects dealt with in the two volumes form a carefully revised and improved edition of three essays gathered into one collection, viz.:-- . notes on chinese mediæval travellers to the west, . . notices of the mediæval geography and history of central and western asia, . . chinese intercourse with the countries of central and western asia during the fifteenth century, . since the first publication of these papers, large additions have been made to the stock of our knowledge regarding the regions of central asia which, previously to the russian occupation of these tracts, had been inaccessible to scientific exploration. thus new light has been thrown upon many interesting geographical questions suggested by the narratives of mediæval travellers, or hitherto based only upon more modern but vague and dubious chinese accounts. to bring the new edition of those former researches up to the present advanced state of knowledge on the subject, i had to study a vast amount of literature, written for the greater part in russian, which has come to light, on central asia, and was obliged to read through a great number of works and papers, some of them published in russian turkestan, and, therefore, difficult to obtain. in general, all reading accessible to me bearing on the subject has been made use of for the elucidation of mediæval geographical questions arising out of my researches. * * * * * post vo, pp. xii.- , cloth, price s. d. the history of esarhaddon (son of sennacherib), king of assyria, b.c. - . translated from the cuneiform inscriptions upon cylinders and tablets in the british museum collection; together with a grammatical analysis of each word, explanations of the ideographs by extracts from the bi-lingual syllabaries, and list of eponyms, &c. by e. a. wallis budge, m.a., litt.d., d.lit., keeper of the egyptian and assyrian antiquities in the british museum. "students of scriptural archæology will also appreciate the 'history of esarhaddon.'"--_times._ "there is much to attract the scholar in this volume. it does not pretend to popularise studies which are yet in their infancy. its primary object is to translate, but it does not assume to be more than tentative, and it offers both to the professed assyriologist and to the ordinary non-assyriological semitic scholar the means of controlling its results."--_academy._ "mr. budge's book is, of course, mainly addressed to assyrian scholars and students. they are not, it is to be feared, a very numerous class. but the more thanks are due to him on that account for the way in which he has acquitted himself in his laborious task."--_tablet._ * * * * * post vo, pp. xlviii.- , cloth, price s. the ordinances of manu. translated from the sanskrit, with an introduction. by the late a. c. burnell, ph.d., c.i.e. completed and edited by e. w. hopkins, ph.d., of columbia college, n.y. "this work is full of interest; while for the student of sociology and the science of religion it is full of importance. it is a great boon to get so notable a work in so accessible a form, admirably edited, and completely translated."--_scotsman._ "few men were more competent than burnell to give us a really good translation of this well-known law book, first rendered into english by sir william jones. burnell was not only an independent sanskrit scholar, but an experienced lawyer, and he joined to these two important qualifications the rare faculty of being able to express his thoughts in clear and trenchant english.... we ought to feel very grateful to dr. hopkins for having given us all that could be published of the translation left by burnell."--f. max mÜller in the _academy_. * * * * * third edition. post vo, cloth, pp. vi.- , price s. the bhagavad g[=i]t[=a]; or, the sacred lay. a sanskrit philosophical poem. translated, with notes, by john davies, m.a. (cantab.) member of the royal asiatic society, of the cambridge philological society, &c., and (sometime) rector of walsoken, norfolk. i. introduction. ii. translation. iii. appendix. (i) on the date at which the bhagavad g[=i]t[=a] was probably written, and on the theory that it was written under an influence derived from a knowledge of christian doctrines. (ii) the traditional line of descent of the lunar dynasty. (iii) collation of two mss. with the bonn edition of the bhagavad g[=i]t[=a], and the readings of other editions and mss. in preparing this translation of the bhagavad g[=i]t[=a], the author had before him the greek translation of galanos, and the italian version of stanislao gatti, both supplied by dr. reinhold rost. the author also consulted the french version of burnouf, the latin version of lassen, and the english versions of mr. thomson and k. t. telang. the notes of lassen have given valuable aid, as well as a paper on the bhagavad g[=i]t[=a], read before the "akademie der weissenschaften" of berlin in by w. van humboldt, which contained a scholarly review of the doctrines contained in the poem. the author has also consulted a ms. copy of the commentary on the bhagavad g[=i]t[=a], written by ['s]r[=i]dhara, and, by the kindness of dr. rost, another commentary, attributed to ['s]ankara, but written by ['s]ankara ananda saraswati (quot. at ananda), and called t[=a]tparya bodhin[=i]. * * * * * second edition. post vo, cloth, pp. viii.- , price s. hindu philosophy. the s[=a]nkhya k[=a]rik[=a] of [=i]['s]wara krishna. an exposition of the system of kapila, with an appendix on the ny[=a]ya and vai['s]eshika systems. by john davies, m.a. (cantab.) member of the royal asiatic society, of the cambridge philological society, &c., and (sometime) rector of walsoken, norfolk. extract from preface. i wish to present to my readers the philosophy of kapila as it has been set forth by his indian exponent, [=i]['s]wara krishna. the system of kapila, called the s[=a]nkhya or rationalistic, in its original form, and in its theistic development by patarijali, contains nearly all that india has produced in the department of pure philosophy. other systems, though classed as philosophic, are mainly devoted to logic and physical science, or to an exposition of the vedas. the system of kapila may be said to have only an historical value, but on this account alone it is interesting as a chapter in the history of the human mind. it is the earliest attempt on record to give an answer, from reason alone, to the mysterious questions which arise in every thoughtful mind about the origin of the world, the nature and relations of man, and his future destiny. it is interesting also and instructive to note how often the human mind moves in a circle. the latest german philosophy, the system of schopenhauer and von hartmann, is mainly a reproduction of the philosophic system of kapila in its materialistic part, presented in a more elaborate form, but on the same fundamental lines. in this respect the human intellect has gone over the same ground that it occupied more than two thousand years ago, but on a more important question it has taken a step in retreat. kapila recognised fully the existence of a soul in man, forming indeed his proper nature--the absolute ego of fichte--distinct from matter and immortal; but our latest philosophy, both here and in germany, can see in man only a highly developed physical organisation. "all external things," says kapila, "were formed that the soul might know itself and be free." "the study of psychology is vain," says schopenhauer, "for there is no psyche." * * * * * post vo, pp. , cloth, price s. a classical dictionary of hindu mythology and religion, geography, history, and literature. by john dowson, m.r.a.s., late professor of hindustani, staff college. "this not only forms an indispensable book of reference to students of indian literature, but is also of great general interest, as it gives in a concise and easily accessible form all that need be known about the personages of hindu mythology whose names are so familiar, but of whom so little is known outside the limited circle of _savants_."--_times._ "it is no slight gain when such subjects are treated fairly and fully in a moderate space; and we need only add that the few wants which we may hope to see supplied in new editions detract but little from the general excellence of mr. dowson's work."--_saturday review._ * * * * * revised edition in two volumes, post vo, pp. xxx.- ; xiv.- , cloth, price s. a history of civilisation in ancient india. based on sanskrit literature, by romesh chunder dutt, c.i.e. of the indian civil service, and of the middle temple, barrister-at-law, member of the royal asiatic society of great britain and ireland, and of the asiatic society of bengal. vol. i.--b.c. to ; vol. ii.--b.c. --a.d. . extract from preface. the method on which this work has been written is very simple. my principal object has been to furnish the general reader with a practical and handy work on the ancient history of india--not to compose an elaborate work of discussions on indian antiquities. to study clearness and conciseness on a subject like this was not, however, an easy task. every chapter in the present work deals with matters about which long researches have been made, and various opinions have been recorded. it would have afforded some satisfaction to me to have given the reader the history of every controversy, the account of every antiquarian discovery, and the pros and cons of every opinion advanced. but i could not yield to this temptation without increasing the work to three or four times its present humble size, and thus sacrificing the very object with which it is written. to carry out my primary object i have avoided every needless discussion, and i have tried to explain as clearly, concisely, and distinctly as i was able each succeeding phase of hindu civilisation and hindu life in ancient times. but, while conciseness has been the main object of the present work, i have also endeavoured to tell my story so that it may leave some distinct memories on my readers after they have closed the work. for this reason, i have avoided details as far as possible, and tried to develop, fully and clearly, the leading facts and features of each succeeding age. repetition has not been avoided where such repetition seemed necessary to impress on my readers the cardinal facts--the salient features of the story of hindu civilisation. "mr. dutt has attempted to popularise learned researches, and has undertaken a patriotic work, and in many respects none could he better prepared for the task than he.... as far as possible he allows the original texts to speak for themselves; his book is thus filled with extracts selected and translated with care; and the extracts are connected together by analyses and résumés in which we always find what is necessary, and seldom what is superfluous. he has written with enthusiasm, in a language clear and correct, and without that needless display of erudition which tires more than it instructs. on the whole i know of no work which enables one better to enter into the spirit of ancient indian thought, or which is more fascinating reading."--m. barth, _in revue critique, paris_. (translated.) * * * * * in one volume, post vo, cloth, pp. xvi.- , price s. d. lays of ancient india. selections from indian poetry rendered into english verse. by romesh chunder dutt, c.i.e. barrister-at-law, and of the indian civil service; member of the royal asiatic society, and of the asiatic society of bengal. author of "a history of civilisation in ancient india," &c. extract from preface. the time has come for placing before english readers a carefully prepared book of selections from the entire range of ancient indian poetry. such a book of selections should convey something not only of the beauty of indian poetry in general, but also of the distinctive features of the poetry of each special period--something of the freshness and simplicity of the vedic hymns, the sublime and lofty thought of the upanishads, the unsurpassed beauty of buddhist precepts, and the incomparable richness and imagery of the later or classical sanscrit poetry. and it seems to me that such a book, comprising specimens from the literature of successive periods, is likely to give the english reader a general bird's-eye view of indian poetry, indian thought, and indian religion. * * * * * revised edition. post vo, pp. , cloth, price s. d. religion in china. by joseph edkins, d.d., peking. containing a brief account of the three religions of the chinese, with observations on the prospects of christian conversion amongst that people. "dr. edkins has been most careful in noting the varied and often complex phases of opinion, so as to give an account of considerable value of the subject."--_scotsman._ "as a missionary, it has been part of dr. edkins' duty to study the existing religions in china, and his long residence in the country has enabled him to acquire an intimate knowledge of them as they at present exist."--_saturday review._ "dr. edkins' valuable work, of which this is a second and revised edition, has, from the time that it was published, been the standard authority upon the subject of which it treats."--_nonconformist._ "dr. edkins ... may now be fairly regarded as among the first authorities on chinese religion and language."--_british quarterly review._ * * * * * new and revised edition. post vo, pp. xxiv.- , cloth, price s. chinese buddhism. a volume of sketches, historical and critical. by j. edkins, d.d. author of "china's place in philology," "religion in china," &c., &c. "it contains a vast deal of important information on the subject, such as is only to be gained by long-continued study on the spot."--_athenæum._ "upon the whole, we know of no work comparable to it for the extent of its original research, and the simplicity with which this complicated system of philosophy, religion, literature, and ritual is set forth."--_british quarterly review._ "the whole volume is replete with learning.... it deserves most careful study from all interested in the history of the religions of the world, and expressly of those who are concerned in the propagation of christianity. dr. edkins notices in terms of just condemnation the exaggerated praise bestowed upon buddhism by recent english writers."--_record._ * * * * * third edition. post vo, cloth, pp. xxiv.- , price s. the philosophy of the upanishads and ancient indian metaphysics. as exhibited in a series of articles contributed to the _calcutta review_. by archibald edward gough, m.a., lincoln college, oxford; principal of the calcutta madrasa. extract from preface. those interested in the general history of philosophy will find in it an account of a very early attempt, on the part of thinkers of a rude age and race, to form a cosmological theory. the real movement of philosophic thought begins, it is true, not in india, but in ionia; but some degree of interest may still be expected to attach to the procedure of the ancient indian cosmologists. the upanishads are so many 'songs before sunrise'--spontaneous effusions of awakening reflection, half poetical, half metaphysical--that precede the conscious and methodical labour of the long succession of thinkers to construct a thoroughly intelligible conception of the sum of things. for the general reader, then, these pages may supply in detail, and in the terms of the sanskrit texts themselves, a treatment of the topics slightly sketched in the third chapter of archer butler's first series of 'lectures on the history of ancient philosophy.' the upanishads exhibit the prehistoric view of things in a na[=i]vely poetical expression, and, at the same time, in its coarsest form. any translations will be found to include the whole of the mu[n.][d.]aka, ka[t.]ha, ['s]vet[=a]['s]vatara, and m[=a][n.][d.][=u]kya upanishads, the greater part of the taittir[=i]ya and b[r.]ihad[=a]ro[n.]yaka, and portions of the chh[=a]ndogya and kena, together with extracts from the works of the indian schoolmen. * * * * * third edition. post vo, cloth, pp. xvi.- , price s. essays on the sacred language, writings, and religion of the parsis. by martin haug, ph.d., late of the universities of tübingen, göttingen, and bonn; superintendent of sanskrit studies, and professor of sanskrit in the poona college. edited and enlarged by dr. e. w. west. to which is added a biographical memoir of the late dr. haug by prof. e. p. evans. i. history of the researches into the sacred writings and religion of the parsis, from the earliest times down to the present. ii. languages of the parsi scriptures. iii. the zend-avesta, or the scripture of the parsis. iv. the zoroastrian religion, as to its origin and development. "'essays on the sacred language, writings, and religion of the parsis,' by the late dr. martin haug, edited by dr. e. w. west. the author intended, on his return from india, to expand the materials contained in this work into a comprehensive account of the zoroastrian religion, but the design was frustrated by his untimely death. we have, however, in a concise and readable form, a history of the researches into the sacred writings and religion of the parsis from the earliest times down to the present--a dissertation on the languages of the parsi scriptures, a translation of the zend-avesta, or the scripture of the parsis, and a dissertation on the zoroastrian religion, with especial reference to its origin and development."--_times._ * * * * * post vo, pp. viii. and , cloth, price s. d. manava-dharma-castra: the code of manu. original sanskrit text, with critical notes. by j. jolly, ph.d., professor of sanskrit in the university of wurzburg; late tagore professor of law in the university of calcutta. the date assigned by sir william jones to this code--the well-known great law book of the hindus--is - b.c., although the rules and precepts contained in it had probably existed as tradition for countless ages before. there has been no reliable edition of the text for students for many years past, and it is believed, therefore, that prof. jolly's work will supply a want long felt. * * * * * second edition. post vo, pp. xii.- , cloth, price s. folk-tales of kashmir. by the rev. j. hinton knowles, f.r.g.s., m.r.a.s., &c. (c.m.s.) missionary to the kashmirs. extract from preface. kashmir as a field of folk-lore literature is, perhaps, not surpassed in fertility by any other country in the world; and yet, while every year witnesses the publication of books on the subject from bengal, bombay, madras, porjáb, and other parts, this field, ripe for the harvest, has remained almost ungleaned. no doubt its isolated position and the difficulty of its language have had something to do with this apparent neglect. no apology will be needed for the presentation of this book to the public. the great interest and importance attaching to the folk-tales of any people is manifest from the great attention devoted to them by many learned writers and others. concerning the style and manner of the book, however, i would ask my readers to be lenient with me. i have sought not so much to present these tales in a purely literary form as to give them in a fair translation, and most of the work was done by lamp-light after an ordinary amount of missionary work during the day. however, such as it is, i sincerely hope it will prove a real contribution towards that increasing stock of folk-lore which is doing so much to clear away the clouds that envelop much of the practices, ideas, and beliefs which make up the daily life of the natives of our great dependencies, control their feelings, and underlie many of their actions. * * * * * post vo, pp. ix.- , cloth, price s. d. the sarva-darsana-samgraha; or, review of the different systems of hindu philosophy. by madhava acharya. translated by e. b. cowell, m.a., professor of sanskrit in the university of cambridge, and a. e. gough, m.a., professor of philosophy in the presidency college, calcutta. this work is an interesting specimen of hindu critical ability. the author successively passes in review the sixteen philosophical systems current in the fourteenth century in the south of india; and he gives what appears to him to be their most important tenets. "the translation is trustworthy throughout. a protracted sojourn in india, where there is a living tradition, has familiarised the translators with indian thought."--_athenæum._ * * * * * five volumes, post vo, cloth, price s. each. original sanskrit texts _on the origin and history of the people of india: their religion and institutions._ collected, translated, and illustrated. by j. muir, c.i.e., d.c.l., ll.d., ph.d. third edition, re-written, and greatly enlarged. vol. i.--mythical and legendary accounts of the origin of caste, with an inquiry into its existence in the vedic age. vol. ii.--inquiry whether the hindus are of trans-himalayan origin, and akin to the western branches of the indo-european race. vol. iii.--the vedas: opinions of their authors and of later indian writers on their origin, inspiration, and authority. (out of print.) vol. iv.--comparison of the vedic with the later representations of the principal indian deities. vol. v.--contributions to a knowledge of the cosmogony, mythology, religious ideas, life, and manners of the indians in the vedic age. * * * * * post vo, pp. xliv.- , cloth, price s. metrical translations from sanskrit writers. with an introduction, many prose versions, and parallel passages from classical authors. by j. muir, c.i.e., d.c.l., ll.d., ph.d. "... an agreeable introduction to hindu poetry."--_times._ "... a volume which maybe taken as a fair illustration alike of the religious and moral sentiments and of the legendary lore of the best sanskrit writers."--_edinburgh daily review._ * * * * * post vo, pp. lxv.- , cloth, price s. tibetan tales derived from indian sources. translated from the tibetan of the kah-gyur. by f. anton von schiefner. done into english from the german, with an introduction, by w. r. s. ralston, m.a. "mr. ralston, whose name is so familiar to all lovers of russian folk-lore, has supplied some interesting western analogies and parallels, drawn, for the most part, from slavonic sources, to the eastern folk-tales, culled from the kahgyur, one of the divisions of the tibetan sacred books."--_academy._ "the translation ... could scarcely have fallen into better hands. an introduction ... gives the leading facts in the lives of those scholars who have given their attention to gaining a knowledge of the tibetan literature and language."--_calcutta review._ "ought to interest all who care for the east, for amusing stories, or for comparative folk-lore."--_pall mall gazette._ * * * * * post vo, pp. xvi.- , cloth, price s. udÂnavarga. a collection of verses from the buddhist canon. compiled by dharmatrÂta. being the northern buddhist version of dhammapada. translated from the tibetan of bkah-hgyur, with notes, and extracts from the commentary of pradjnavarman, by w. woodville rockhill. "mr. rockhill's present work is the first from which assistance will be gained for a more accurate understanding of the pali text; it is, in fact, as yet the only term of comparison available to us. the 'udauavarga,' the thibetan version, was originally discovered by the late m. schiefner, who published the tibetan text, and had intended adding a translation, an intention frustrated by his death, but which has been carried out by mr. rockhill.... mr. rockhill may be congratulated for having well accomplished a difficult task."--_saturday review._ * * * * * fifth edition. post vo, pp. xv.- , cloth, price s. d. outlines of the history of religion to the spread of the universal religions. by c. p. tiele, doctor of theology, professor of the history of religions in the university of leyden. translated from the dutch by j. estlin carpenter, m.a. "few books of its size contain the result of so much wide thinking, able and laborious study, or enable the reader to gain a better bird's-eye view of the latest results of investigations into the religious history of nations. as professor tiele modestly says, 'in this little book are outlines--pencil sketches, i might say--nothing more.' but there are some men whose sketches from a thumb-nail are of far more worth than an enormous canvas covered with the crude painting of others, and it is easy to see that these pages, full of information, these sentences, cut and perhaps also dry, short and clear, condense the fruits of long and thorough research."--_scotsman._ * * * * * four volumes ready. volume v. in the press. post vo, cloth, price s. d. each. the shÁhnÁma of firdausÍ. done into english by arthur george warner, m.a., and edmond warner, b.a. february th of the present year ( ) is the nine hundredth anniversary of the completion of the sháhnamá. its author, the persian poet firdausí, spent over thirty laborious years in its composition, only to experience, when the task had been achieved, a heart-breaking disappointment well worthy of inclusion in any record of the calamities of authors. his work has survived the test of time, and by general consent is accounted to be one of the few great epics of the world. geographically and in some other respects it may be said to stand half-way between the epics of europe and those of india. in its own land it has no peer, while in construction and subject-matter it is unique. other epics centre round some heroic character or incident to which all else is subservient. in the sháhnamá there is no lack either of heroes or of incidents, but its real hero is the ancient persian people, and its theme their whole surviving legendary history from the days of the first man to the death of the last sháh in the middle of the seventeenth century of our era. it is the glory of the persian race that they alone among all nations possess such a record, based as it is on their own traditions and set forth in the words of their greatest poet. in another sense, too, the sháhnamá is unique. the author of the other great epics tell us little or nothing of their own personalities or of their sources of information. their works are fairy palaces suspended in mid air; we see the result, but know not how it was achieved. the author of the sháhnamá takes us into his confidence from the first, so that in reading it we are let into the secret of epic-making, and can apply the knowledge thus gained to solve the problem of the construction of its great congeners. to the student of comparative mythology and folk-lore, to the lover of historic romance or romantic history, and to all that are fond of tales of high achievements and the gests of heroes, the sháhnamá is a storehouse of rich and abundant material. to set forth a complete presentment of it with the needful notes and elucidations is the object of the present translation, made from two of the best printed texts of the original--that of vullers and landauer, and that of turner macan. * * * * * third edition. post vo, cloth, pp. xxiv.- , price s. d. the history of indian literature. by albrecht weber. translated from the second german edition by john mann, m.a., and thÉodor zachariae, ph.d., with the sanction of the author. dr. buhler, inspector of schools in india, writes:--"when i was professor of oriental languages in elphinstone college, i frequently felt the want of such a work to which i could refer the students." professor cowell, of cambridge, writes:--"it will be especially useful to the students in our indian colleges and universities. i used to long for such a book when i was teaching in calcutta. hindu students are intensely interested in the history of sanskrit literature, and this volume will supply them with all they want on the subject." professor whitney, yale college, newhaven, conn., u.s.a., writes:--"i was one of the class to whom the work was originally given in the form of academic lectures. at their first appearance they were by far the most learned and able treatment of their subject; and with their recent additions they still maintain decidedly the same rank." "is perhaps the most comprehensive and lucid survey of sanskrit literature extant. the essays contained in the volume were originally delivered as academic lectures, and at the time of their first publication were acknowledged to be by far the most learned and able treatment of the subject. they have now been brought up to date by the addition of all the most important results of recent research."--_times._ * * * * * second edition. post vo, pp. xxxii. and , cloth, price s. d. masnavi i ma'navi: the spiritual couplets of maulÁna jalÁlu-'d-din muhammad i ru'mi. translated and abridged by e. h. whinfield, m.a., late of h.m. bengal civil service. extract from author's preface. this is the book of the masnavi. it contains the roots of the roots of the roots of the faith, and treats of the mysteries of "union" and "certitude." thus saith the feeble slave, in need of the mercy of god, whose name be praised, muhammad, son of muhammad, son of husain, of balkh, of whom may god accept it,--"i have exerted myself to enlarge this book of poetry in rhymed couplets, which contains strange and rare narratives, beautiful sayings and recondite indications; a path for the devout, and a garden for the pious; short in its expressions, but having numerous applications." the author goes on to state that he wrote his book at the instance of shaikh hasan, son of muhammad, "a chief of the gnostics (_'arif[=i]n_) and a leader of right direction and of sure knowledge;" and concludes with a prayer that it may prove "a blessing to those who are possessed of insight, the godly, the spiritual, and the heavenly-minded, the men of light who keep silence and observe, who are absent in spirit though present in the body, very kings though clothed in rags, true nobles among the people, endued with virtues, the lights of guidance." * * * * * post vo, cloth, pp. xxxii.- , price s. d. the quatrains of omar khayyÁm. the persian text with an english verse translation. by e. h. whinfield, m.a., late of the bengal civil service. extract from the introduction. ghiás uddin abul fath omar bin ibrahim al khayyám was a native of nishapúr, one of the principal cities of khorásan. according to the preface of the calcutta ms., he died in a.d., during the reign of sultan sarjar. the date of his birth is nowhere mentioned, but he was contemporary with nizám ul mulk, the celebrated wazir of the seljuk kings, alp arslan and malik shah. this edition contains the persian test of quatrains based on a collation of eight authorities, together with english verse translations. * * * * * second edition, revised. post vo, cloth, pp. viii.- , price s. the quatrains of omar khayyÁm. translated into english verse, by e. h. whinfield, m.a., late of the bengal civil service. this edition contains of the best quatrains in the larger edition, carefully revised. * * * * * post vo, pp. vi.- , cloth, price s. modern india and the indians. being a series of impressions, notes, and essays. by sir monier williams, d.c.l., hon. ll.d. of the university of calcutta, hon. member of the bombay asiatic society, boden professor of sanskrit in the university of oxford. fifth edition, revised and augmented by considerable additions, with illustrations and a map. "in this volume we have the thoughtful impressions of a thoughtful man on some of the most important questions connected with our indian empire.... an enlightened observant man, travelling among an enlightened observant people, professor monier williams has brought before the public in a pleasant form more of the manners and customs of the queen's indian subjects than we ever remember to have seen in any one work. he not only deserves the thanks of every englishman for this able contribution to the study of modern india--a subject with which we should be specially familiar--but he deserves the thanks of every indian, parsee or hindu, buddhist and moslem, for his clear exposition of their manners, their creeds, and their necessities."--_times._ * * * * * post vo, pp. xii.- , cloth, price s. the satakas of bhartrihari. translated from the sanskrit by the rev. b. hale wortham, m.r.a.s., rector of eggesford, north devon. "a very interesting addition to trübner's oriental series."--_saturday review._ "many of the maxims in the book have a biblical ring and beauty of expression."--_st. james' gazette._ * * * * * transcriber's notes . passages in italics are surrounded by _underscores_. . footnotes have been moved from the middle of a paragraph to the end of the chapter. . obvious punctuation errors have been silently corrected. . the original text includes greek characters. for this text version these letters have been replaced with transliterations. . the words coup-d'oeil and oedipus use an oe ligature in the original. . the letters with diacritical marks are enclosed within square braces. . numbers of the form " - / " represent fractional numbers where whole number is followed by hyphen and the fraction / . . the following misprints have been corrected: "similiar" corrected to "similar" (page x) "savans" corrected to "savants" (page xiv) "rasula" corrected to "raoula" (page xx) "ntellectual" corrected to "intellectual" (ch. i, ftn. ) "siting" corrected to "sitting" (page ) "amuesment" corrected to "amusement" (page ) "guadama" corrected to "gaudama" (page ) "ocurrence" corrected to "occurrence" (ch. v, ftn. ) "substantinl" corrected to "substantial" (page ) "undescribable" corrected to "indescribable" (page ) "pathanadi" corrected to "pathenadi" (page ) "ooodaka" corrected to "oodaka" (page ) "rathans" corrected to "rahans" (ch. vi, ftn. ) "succesively" corrected to "successively" (page ) "possesssed" corrected to "possessed" (page ) "drunkennness" corrected to "drunkenness" (page ) "tsadoumaritz" corrected to "tsadoomarit" (page ) "rathan" corrected to "rahan" (page ) "adzatatha" corrected to "adzatathat" (ch. vi, ftn. ) "perfect on" corrected to "perfection" (ch. vii, ftn. ) "morever" corrected to "moreover" (page ) "eft" corrected to "left" (page ) "buddah" corrected to "buddha" (ch. viii, ftn. ) "pracittioners" corrected to "practitioners" (ch. ix, ftn. ) "stockof" corrected to "stock of" (ch. ix, ftn. ) "patzati" corrected to "patzapati" (page ) . other than the corrections listed above, printer's inconsistencies in spelling, punctuation, hyphenation, and ligature usage have been retained.