GIFT OF HORACE W. CARPENT1ER BUDDHIST STORIES A MANUAL OF BUDDHISM By DUDLEY WRIGHT Author of "Was Jesus an Essene?" &c With Introduction by Prof. Edmund Mills, LL.D., F.R.S. Crown 8vo. 2s. 6d. net "A Pocket Book for Earnest Men, mainly in the lucid and beautiful words of the Euddha himself," is the description applied to the present work by Prof. Mills, Chairman of the Council of the Buddhist Society of England and Wales. KEGAN PAU L, TRENCH, TRUBNER& CO., LTD. BUDDHIST STORIES BY PAUL DAHLKE AUTHOR OF "BUDDHIST ESSAYS," "BUDDHISM AND SCIENCE," ETC. TRANSLATED BY THE BHIKKHU SILACARA. LONDON : KEGAN PAUL, TRENCH, TRUBNER & CO., LTD. BROADWAY HOUSE, 68-74, CARTER LANE, E.C, 1913 Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2007 with funding from Microsoft Corporation http://www.archive.org/details/buddhiststoriesOOdahlrich BUDDHIST STORIES DEATH AND LIFE IN a certain place, not far from Benares, there lived a man, by name Gautama, who, after having experienced some- thing of life, resolved to leave all behind him, and with one or two others to depart from his native place and travel far away. So, along with these others, he forsook his village, and took nothing with him but a staff and a calabash, and on his body a red robe. Now when they came to the cross-roads, his companions went straight on. But Gautama thought, " Why should I go straight on? I will turn to the left." The others, however, called to him, " This is where the way lies, Friend Gautama ! " But he answered, "My way lies this way," whereupon the -others considered, "Leave him alone. What is it to us ? He is a fool ! M 2 BUDDHIST STORIES But now, as Gautama went on alone, he soon found himself in a place where he had never before been. "How is this?" he asked himself. " I am well acquainted with this neighbourhood all around, and yet I never saw this place before." Indeed, it seemed to him as if the sun shone here with another light than it did elsewhere. But he kept stepping boldly on, always towards the east. As evening approached, he came to a vast desert that spread all round him like a smooth cloth, and before him, like some monstrous thing, lay always his shadow. Now when Gautama saw the vast desert and the long shadow before him, he thought, " What is this life to me if I do not prevail over death ? The lust of money have I overcome. The lust of honour have I over- come. The love of woman have I over- come. But what is all this to me if I do not also vanquish death ? " Thoughtfully and with lowered eyes he went further on. When next he lifted up his eyes, he saw DEATH AND LIFE 3 before him a lovely little wood, and in it a hut, in front of which in the evening calm sat a grey old man. Gautama greeted him respectfully. He thought, " I will ask this grey old man. May- hap he knows how one may vanquish death/' So he went up to him, and, sitting down respectfully by his side, he began — " Does the venerable one happen to know how one may vanquish death ? " The old man smiled. " Hast thou yet overcome the lust of gold ? " he asked. " Yes," answered Gautama. " Hast thou yet overcome the lust of fame?" " Yes," answered Gautama. " Hast thou yet overcome the love of woman ? " " Yes," answered Gautama. " Through what hast thou vanquished the lust of gold?" " Through doubt." " Through what hast then vanquished the lust of fame ? " 4 BUDDHIST STORIES "Through doubt." 11 Through what hast thou vanquished the love of woman ? " "Through doubt." " Tell me," said the old man. Then this Gautama began to tell — rt Long time I lived in that place not far from Benares, and earned my bread by traf- ficking. Then one day it happed that all unforeseen I made a great gain. When I saw all the money in a heap together, greed laid hold of me. I began to add to my store penny by penny. When the amount be- came so great that I could not any longer well keep it by me for fear of thieves, I entrusted it to a brother trader. But now that I possessed money, I lived more miserably than ever. My only joy was the increase of my treasure ; my only sorrow that I might some day lose what I had gathered together. But this was the thing most wretched about this wretched condi- tion — I was so entirely taken up with my greed that I had not the faintest notion of its wretchedness. My constant care and DEATH AND LIFE 5 anxiety seemed to me to be so natural that I never once thought of asking myself, ' Must this be ? ' "One day the man I trusted went bank- rupt. My whole fortune was gone. Groan- ing and rending my hair, I lay in my lodging. Then there came a religious mendicant to my door and begged an alms. I screamed out at him with all my might, I I have lost my all, and yet you require an alms/ " Thereupon he silently took his alms-bowl and shook half of its contents into my vessel. " I said, ■ Of what use is that tome?' He said, * To satisfy your hunger. What more do you wish ? ' " I replied, ' I have whereof to eat and to drink without this, but my fortune is gone, all my hoardings/ " The beggar turned to go. Doing so, he said, ' O thou fool, if thou knewest how sweet is the poverty of those that understand/ "When he had departed I looked at the rice in my vessel. I became thoughtful. 'This man,' I reflected, 'lives from hand to mouth, and yet he gives away the half of 6 BUDDHIST STORIES that which he has begged.' But when any one begins to reflect upon his misfortune, already it has lost its bitterest taste ; for all lamentation arises from lack of reflection. " A doubt awoke in me as to whether my previous manner of life had been the right one. Already half comforted, I fell asleep. On the very next day I was thinking quite otherwise of my misfortune. * What does it matter to you/ I said to myself, ' whether or not you live with the consciousness that such and such a purse of money lies deposited with such and such a merchant ? You would just as little have touched any of it as if it had belonged to another; you would have starved yourself to death first. Have you not hitherto lived like one who has placed the most vulnerable part of his body just where it can be got at by every one? Have you not been like a ship in a storm that trails its cargo, tied to a rope, behind it through the waves? Are you not living now just as you were before ? Nay, will you not now live more richly and more at peace than ever you did before ? ' DEATH AND LIFE ^ 'Ml was not very long before I had made such progress in this new way of thinking, that I was earnestly convinced that I had secured a lifelong advantage through the loss of my money. "With this newly-acquired knowledge I ought well to have been able to lead a quiet and rational life, a life of outward as well as inward equipoise. But further doubts began to torment me. 'Do I now stand sufficiently secure for life, now that I have lost my fortune and carry on this trade ? May not this business also some day go to ruin, and shall I not then once more experience a similar, nay, perhaps a greater grief? Were it not better that I take my place of my own free will upon the lowest step, where I can no longer lose anything, simply because I have no more to lose ? \ " Thus night and day was I tortured by doubts and fears, like a man unable to con- fine himself to the happy mean. At last I resolved to give up all and to spend my life in the penance-groves as a religious men- dicant. 8 BUDDHIST STORIES " Since my mind was in a state of strain when I entered upon this mode of life, I threw myself with ardour into the study of the Vedas * and the practice of mortifications. From the words of another ascetic I one day perceived that I was beginning to attract attention by my strict manner of life. Immediately my ardour redoubled, and soon I was the shining light of this religious company. To me alone was the honour permitted of wearing an iron girdle round my body, to signify that I might burst if my wisdom and intellectual bulk should increase much further. " Then one day there came to us an alien priest out of the East. He had a reputation for the profoundest learning. A tourna- ment of knowledge was arranged between us, like those contests which men are wont to have between fighting-cocks. Through one question about the seat of the highest Brahman f I involved myself in contradictions. I had a mind to extricate myself by means * The primitive Hindu Scriptures. t The first deity in the Hindu triad. DEATH AND LIFE 9 of an untruth. But when my opponent said to me, ' I see a spirit over you with drawn sword, who will cleave your head in twain if you speak falsehood,' I yielded and owned myself vanquished. " And so my reputation was gone for ever, and in addition I had the consciousness of having been minded to tell a lie in order to save this reputation, which is the worst thing of all for one who strives after purity. " ' Hither then has thy lust of fame brought thee/ I thought, as, dejected and despair- ing, I sat before the door of my cell. The sweat of the effort and the excitement of the tourney still stood undried upon my brow. "It happened that a fan lay near me, though I could not say how it came to be there. I took it up mechanically and began to fan myself. As the cooling air passed over my face, the thought came to me — "'What is this now? When this fan is moved backwards and forwards, a wind arises. May not the great wind that blows over the four quarters of the world arise in a similar fashion ? We say, " That is io BUDDHIST STORIES Indra's* doing, that is Varuna'sf doing;" but may it not also be merely the effect of a cause like this tiny breeze here blowing on my face ? May not that Gautama be right who call himself the Buddha, and has begun at Benares to turn the wheel of the Law, when he says that there is nothing in the universe save that which, as effect, follows upon cause ? And so, gone are all the gods ! ' " ' Honestly, how do I know that there is something supreme which leads this entire universe along its own chosen path ? It may be so ; it may not be so. Who can ever prove it one way or another ? Oh, if we would only cease from our conjecturings upon the highest things ! If we would only seek after what is certain in ourselves ! Whether there are gods or not might keep us arguing for a whole year of Brahma. Lies, however, still remain lies ; evil dispositions of the heart still remain evil dispositions of the heart, whether with gods or without them. Verily we must lay hold there where we can hold.' * The king of heaven. t The god of rain, clouds and ocean. DEATH AND LIFE u " After such a form of doubt as this had laid hold of me, I thought I understood the utter pitiableness of this lust of fame. ' The two of us/ I said to myself, * have been striv- ing over a thing about which we neither of us know anything, nor ever shall know any- thing. Is that other any the greater that his sharpness has been proved superior to mine ? Is such a thing really worthy of our having sacrificed to it our rest at nights ? ' " By main force I tore from my body the girdle of iron that encircled it, and resolved on the spot to renounce the worldly doings of this ascetic life, that I might seek peace in some quiet hut and in the pursuit of some useful occupation. And so I became a schoolmaster in a neighbouring village, and lived there quietly for several years that brought me neither joys nor sorrows. " One day I had to make a journey to a distant village. When I arrived there in the evening, I saw a girl with a pitcher on her head, at sight of whom it seemed as if I wholly and completely burst into flames like the camphor that is burnt before the 12 BUDDHIST STORIES shrine of Siva.* After I had made the customary inquiries, I sued for this maiden's hand in marriage. I was rejected on the ground that I was too poor. Gone was the peace of my hut. I again took up business and worked as diligently as an ant. As soon as I had saved up something, I bought a golden bracelet and sent it to my adored one as a bridal present. She accepted it kindly, for she also loved me. " Now it happened about this time that we had great floods, by reason of which the Ganges overflowed its banks to an extent never before known in the memory of man. The place, however, where I lived lay upon a hill. " At night I went along the stream in order to see the rising of the waters. Then I saw lying on the bank a human form that had been floated down by the flood. It lay on its face and moaned. Full of sympathy, I sprang to its help, for the lower part of the body still lay in the water. As I bent over it, I saw that the hands were tightly clasped * The third deity in the Hindu triad. DEATH AND LIFE 13 about a little case. At that moment greed came over me, sudden as a lightning flash. I thought, * Here is thy marriage settle- ment.' And without once thinking of straightening myself up and reflecting (even as I half stooped I was transformed from a compassionate saver of human life to a murderous shore robber) I wrenched the case out of the hands that held it and rolled the body quickly back again into the water. As it rolled, the hair which had hitherto enveloped the entire head like a hood parted a little. Just then the moon emerged from behind a cloud, and I beheld the face of my beloved sweetheart. " With a mighty effort I plucked the fainting form back out of the flood and threw myself down on the earth near her. Here I must have lain for quite a long time, like one bereft of his senses. Then the thought drove me to my feet, ' She will die here if you do not get help/ I took the heavy body in my arms and, by a superhuman effort, dragged myself to the nearest hut. Through the efforts of the good people there, H BUDDHIST STORIES who were more skilful than I, she came back to life. Meanwhile I slipped away to my lodging, for it would have been impossible for me to look her in the face. " That night it was as if a storm-wind raged within me, tossing my heart ceaselessly to and fro. I did not know what to do; whether to fling myself into the flood where I would have cast her, or to throw myself at her feet, confess everything, and implore her pardon. Any third course did not seem to me to be possible. Ever tenser stretched the strings in this inward stress and struggle. One view seemed just to hold the balance with the other, until at last my brain, in this condition of forced equipoise, fell into a sort of stupor resembling sleep. " I awoke with the thought, 'What, after all, is this love through attachment to which thou hast been willing to become a murderer, nay, hast become a murderer ? ' And in the light of this doubt I began to look sharply into this love, and suddenly I perceived its uncertainty and its misery. But I could now see clearly, because all the love in me DEATH AND LIFE 15 had been burnt up in this one night, as a mighty conflagration in one night may burn up a whole forest. All others, however, when they think upon love, peer through the smoke and mist of the love that is present in them. " Then there came over me, as it were, indignation, and I resolved to cast from me for ever this love to which I had hitherto clung so closely. " On the morrow the entire village re- sounded with my fame, because, at the danger of my own life, I had saved my betrothed from death. I had become a hero, and the father of the girl came to me and said, * Because you have saved my daughters life, I give her to thee, and with her the due dowry. For she loves thee, and when the flood came, she took nothing but thy letter and thy bracelet and put them in that little case.' " I could not answer a word, but turned away in silence ; and because I saw some people just leaving the village, I hastily donned this red robe, took staff and calabash, and went with them. 16 BUDDHIST STORIES "My thoughts were turned towards nothing but death. It was to me as if only through longing for death could I at all endure life. I clung to that longing. So soon, however, as I remarked that, I started, for I knew that all clinging brings suffering. I thought, 1 What boots it that I have vanquished the lust of gold and the lust of fame and the love of woman, if now I cling to this thing death ? How can I live serenely so long as there is aught to which I cling ? ' " So I resolved to vanquish death also, even as I had vanquished these three. Therefore I ask once more, ' Does the venerable one know how one may vanquish death ? ' n The old man smiled. " Remain here ; sweep my hut ; bring me fresh water ; beg alms for me and speak no word. Do this for three years, and after that ask your question again ! " Gautama replied, " Venerable one, what good will that do me ? How can I wait for three years ? May not death come to- morrow, nay, to-day ? I would vanquish him at once that I may at last have peace." DEATH AND LIFE 17 Then the old man smiled again and said, " Then go to the old man of the moun- tain !" " Of what mountain ? " " Of Mount Meru ! " " How can I get there ? " ? Only keep going along the banks of this sacred Ganges, until you come to where it springs out of a blue-gleaming cleft in a glacier. There you will see Mount Meru." u But how shall I recognise it ? " " When you see it, it will see you." " And how shall I recognise the old man of the mountain ? " " When he sees you, you will see him." Gautama arose in silence, that he might, on the instant, enter upon his pilgrimage. The old man called after him — " Only give heed to this, my son ! When you have left behind you the haunts of men, you will come to wide wastes of sand and endless fields of snow. There you may wear your robe of red no more, nor speak aloud, nor take with you your calabash, else raging storms will fall upon your head. For, c 18 BUDDHIST STORIES this you must know, 'Whoso turns against the realm of nature, against him also nature turns. But the wise man subdues her by his wisdom.' You may keep your staff, however." Gautama promised to lay all this to heart. Thereupon the old man again began, M One thing more, my son: When you have found Mount Meru, you can only reach it by going towards it with closed eyes. As often as you open your eyes, it will recede again to the horizon." After Gautama had thus been informed of everything, he went fortfi boldly on his way. When now he had been travelling many days, he came to the sacred city of Mathura. There stood the great image of Mahakala, which is otherwise known as Vishnu.* Sky- blue in colour, with four arms, it stood there four and twenty feet high, with naked paunch and teeth protruding like monstrous fangs. In its ears it wore snakes in place of rings, and two enormous snakes encircled its body. On its head it bore a crown of human skulls ; around its throat a necklace of * The second deity in the Hindu triad. DEATH AND LIFE 19 human skulls. From the elephant's hide, however, with which its back was covered, there fell drops of blood. Now, when Gautama saw all the faithful who lay there' rubbing their foreheads on the ground, he asked — "Who is that?" The people answered, " Do you not know Mahakala, the Mighty Lord of Time, the All-destroyer ? " " Is Mahakala death ? " " We do not know." "Is Mahakala life?" "We do not know." " Why then do you pray to Mahakala ? " " We do not know. Our fathers prayed to him, and their fathers before them." Then Gautama thought, "These are in- fatuated fools. I like not fools," and passed on his way. When, again, he had been travelling many days, he came to Hastinapura, the elephant town. There, a powerful king reigned who had twenty thousand war elephants and a hundred thousand warriors. And the 20 BUDDHIST STORIES inhabitants of his city dwelt under his pro- tection in plenty and in safety. Now when Gautama entered the city and saw the garlanded houses, and on all hands heard the sounds of games and dance and song, he inquired what festival they were celebrating that day. The man whom he asked, however, answered — " Stranger, our festivals are every day." Meanwhile, a company of gaily-adorned young men and women came along the street. When they saw Gautama they said — " Come with us, O stranger, to yonder shady wood." But Gautama answered, " I cannot go to the shady wood while my task remains undone." Thereupon they all laughed, and asked, " What sort of task have you got, you poor man?" Then Gautama replied, " I want to go to Mount Meru, there to vanquish death." They were filled with astonishment when they heard him say this, and each said to the other — DEATH AND LIFE 21 " He wants to go to Mount Mem, there to vanquish death ! " " Why do you bother yourself about death ? Why do you wish to vanquish him ? " " Because I have desire for him, because I cling to him — therefore do I wish to overcome him." When now Gautama saw how astounded they were, he asked — "Will you also go with me to overcome death?" " Stranger," they replied, u we have no time." "What, then, have you got to do now ? f- "We must dance the processional dance in the shady wood." "And then?" " Then we must bathe and anoint our- selves before the sun goes down." * And then ? " " Then we must eat and drink." " And then ? " " Then comes the night and its shining pleasures." 22 BUDDHIST STORIES "And then?" " Then we must bathe again and anoint ourselves and eat and make sport with our friends, and rest upon soft cushions in the breath of the breeze." " And then ? " u Then we must again dance the proces- sional dance even as now." Then Gautama thought : " These are wise fools. I like not fools," and passed on his way. When, again, he had been travelling for many days, he came to Indraprastha, the great ascetic grove. There he found a thousand holy men, who by powerful pen- ances would fain have fought their way to the highest knowledge, for that is the ancient wisdom : " Knowing Brahman, he himself becomes Brahman." One of them ate only stone-apples and the young shoots of trees. Another ate only one grain of rice a day, for, a fixed diet purifies. Another stood up to his hips in water day and night, and continually poured water over himself, for, water purifies. Another DEATH AND LIFE 23 stood there motionless and stared into the sun's face with eyelids torn off, for, sun- light purifies. Another stood naked in the sun with four fires built up round him, for, fire purifies. Others again did other things. And thus in this grove such a mass of merit was heaped up by the pious penitents, that all the world wondered how the four quarters of the earth could continue to support the weight of this merit. As Gautama approached this sacred as- sembly, the pious penitents asked him — " Wilt thou also become one of us and practise the great penance ? " But Gautama answered — " I have no time to tarry with you and to practise the great penance ; I wish to go to Mount Meru, there to vanquish death." " Venerable one," those penitents then replied, "indeed we also wish to vanquish death." " How, then, would you vanquish death ? " " Even by becoming one with highest Brahman, for, 'Whoso himself is Brahman — him death no more compels.' ' 24 BUDDHIST STORIES M But how would you become one with that highest Brahman ? " Y By the highest knowledge, for, ■ Whoso knows Brahman, he is Brahman.' That is the ancient wisdom." " But how would you attain to this highest knowledge ? " " By penitential practices and by reflection." "Where, then, dwells that highest Brah- man ? " " It dwells in us, venerable one; yea, in us. Even because of that is it said : 'Knowing Brahman, he becomes Brahman/" " Can you, then, see this highest Brahman in you with your eyes ? " " Nay, venerable one ! How could the eye see Him through Whom it itself is the eye r " Then you are well able to perceive it with the understanding?" 14 Nay, venerable one ! How could the understanding perceive Him through Whom it itself is the understanding ? " "Then you are well able to feel it with the heart ? " DEATH AND LIFE 25 " Nay, venerable one ! How could the heart feel Him through Whom it itself is the heart ? " " But how now, O venerable ones ? You see not this great Brahman with the eye, you perceive it not with the understanding, you feel it not with the heart. Whence, then, have you the knowledge that this great Brahman really is ? " " The rishis teach it." "Then the rishis have perceived it and know that it is ? " " We believe so." " And so you have desire for that highest Brahman ? " " How should we not ? We long for Him as the wanderer for his home, as the weary eagle for its nest." Then Gautama thought, " These pious men cling to that highest Brahman. Verily these pious men know not that all clinging brings pain. But must it not bring double pain when one clings to that of which he does not know whether it is or not ? These holy men do not wish to overcome death, but only to escape 26 BUDDHIST STORIES him by hiding themselves in their own sophisms. They are foolish sages. I like not the foolish." Thereupon he took his departure from thence. After he had again been wandering many days, he came to those endless wastes of sand and those fields of snow of which the old man had told him, and he put away from him his red robe and his calabash. " How should I let forth spoken words from me here ? " he thought, " since there is no one here with whom to hold speech ? " He kept his staff however. So he wandered on until he came to the place where the sacred Ganges breaks forth from a blue-gleaming cleft in a glacier. And here he looked around for Mount Meru. He examined one after the other the mountain peaks that towered around him ; each resembled every other in all particulars. Then one of the mountains, as his eye fell upon it, began to grow ever higher and higher, so that at last Gautama was obliged to throw his head far back in DEATH AND LIFE 27 order to be able to look up to its summit, notwithstanding that the mountain lay far away on the horizon. Then Gautama knew that this was Mount Meru, and with long strides made towards it. But, no matter how fast he walked, he never came any nearer to the mountain. Exhausted, he stopped to draw breath. Only then did the words of the old man occur to him — " You can only reach it by going towards it with closed eyes." But now the way led over boulders and past precipices. " How can I go on such a road with closed eyes ? " thought Gautama. " I shall tumble into a ravine and be dashed to pieces." He closed his eyes by way of trial, and carefully and anxiously groped his way forward. After a while he thought, " I will just take a little careful wink to see if I am any nearer yet to this mountain." But the mountain still stood there far away on the utmost horizon, and its summit towered so high that Gautama was obliged to bend his 28 BUDDHIST STORIES head far back in order to be able to see to the top. The mountain was tremendous to look at in its mantle of ice and snow that gleamed purple. But the clefts shone green like emeralds. Again and again in like manner Gautama tried to advance towards it, but every peep he took revealed the mountain as far away as ever. At last desponding he sat down on the ground. " The old man has hoaxed me," was his thought. " For, even if I went on for seven whole days with my eyes shut, at the very moment when I opened my eyes the mountain would recede again to the horizon. On the other hand, if I keep my eyes closed, how shall I ever know whether I have reached it ? " Anger at the old man wholly mastered him. " Rascal ! " he shouted, and shook his clenched fist. And then the storm was upon him. From the mountain afar it came raging on, but to our Gautama it was as though it were roaring in his ears. He jumped up in terror. Not a single place anywhere around wherein DEATH AND LIFE 29 to hide himself! And now the snow began to fall like the blossoms of the champak tree, and hailstones came down as big as mangoes. Gautama turned around and threw himself flat on the ground. " Now," he thought, " it will blow me over into the abyss like a tuft of cotton from the bush. Very good! So be it ! " And then suddenly all was deathly still. He got up. Mount Meru stood before him, notwithstanding that it ought now to haye been behind him. " How wonderful ! " thought Gautama. " I will follow the old man's counsel." And without once looking behind him to see if there might not be another Mount Meru still towering aloft in the old place, he closed his eyes and strode straight forward in the direction of the mountain, giving no thought to boulders or abysses, and immediately his mind within him became so strange, so still. Wholly at peace he walked on, and the road seemed suddenly to become as smooth as the path before his hut and as the sandy seashore at the ebb of the tide. FThen thought Gautama, " How splendid, 30 BUDDHIST STORIES after all, are closed eyes ! How wonderful that I never yet tried to go with closed eyes at home ! " So he kept on walking quietly along, and never thought of the old man of the mountain nor yet of death, enjoying only his felicity. At last he became weary and fell asleep as he walked, but only for as long as is needed to pass from the right foot to the left, or from the left foot to the right. But when he opened his eyes, it was to him as if he had slept through the whole night, and just in front of him there sat a little old man mending his clothes. Of the mountain, however, nothing more was to be seen. Gautama thought, "I will ask him there whether he cannot show me the old man of the mountain." Then the little man lifted his eyes and looked at him, whereupon Gautama saw that it was the old man of the mountain himself. Meanwhile the man opened his mouth and said — " Art thou there, Gautama ? " DEATH AND LIFE 31 u Dost thou know me then ? " asked Gautama. The old man smiled. „" I have known thee for countless thousands of years, but only by name. Wherefore dost thou come to me ? " " I would ask thee how one may vanquish death ? " The old man smiled again. " Hast thou yet vanquished the lust of gold ? " he asked. " Yes," replied Gautama. " Hast thou yet vanquished the lust of fame ? " "Yes." " Hast thou yet vanquished the love of woman ? " " Yes." " Through what hast thou vanquished the lust of gold ? " " Through doubt." " And through what hast thou vanquished the lust of fame ? " "Through doubt." "And through what hast thou vanquished the love of woman ? " "Through doubt." 32 BUDDHIST STORIES " Tell me." Then Gautama began and again told his story. When he had ended the old man nodded his head and said — " Good, good, my son ! Thou hast van- quished the lust of gold, thou hast vanquished the lust of fame, thou hast vanquished the love of woman. But hast thou yet van- quished life also ? For else thou canst not vanquish death." " I know not," answered Gautama. " What is life, my father ? Show it to me. I would fain overcome it also." " Thou art life." " And what am I, my father ? " " Thou art the love of thyself. It thou must overcome before thou canst vanquish death." Then Gautama stretched forth his arms so that the muscles stood out upon them and he said — " Very good, my father, teach me. I am ready." The old man still smiled. " Son," he said, DEATH AND LIFE 33 " thou hast done many deeds, but know that the highest lies not in doing, but in ceasing from doing." " Have I not ceased from all, my father? n " Thy ceasing is naught but a doing ! " " Then teach me, my father." The old man gave him three doves which were black as night, with not a single white feather upon them. " Come again to-morrow and tell me what thou hast seen on these." Then Gautama took the three doves and departed thence. But his thought was : " What have I to do with these three birds ? They are black as night, and there is not a single white feather on them." When he came to the old man next morn- ing the latter said to him — " Hast thou seen anything, my son ? " Then Gautama answered — " Each of the three has got a white feather." M Sadhu, my son ! Have courage ! Thou shalt yet vanquish death. This is the token thereof. Every day they will each get a 34 BUDDHIST STORIES fresh white feather, so wait in patience until the last black feather has gone. Then thou must eat all three birds. As soon as thou hast done that, come again to me. Then I shall be able to tell thee how thou mayst vanquish death." This seemed to our Gautama a very easy task, and, light of heart, he departed thence. So he waited day after day, and month after month, and year after year, and counted each fresh white feather. And, because he saw progress every day, he remained at peace and lived content and free from desires. At first, indeed, he thought: "Ah, if only the last black feather were gone ! " But, when he had waited and watched and counted for three long years, this thought no longer came to him, and that was why he lived free from desires. When now six years were come and gone and he was entering upon the seventh, almost all the black feathers were gone. And the three doves from day to day became ever more beautiful to look upon in their gleaming white feathers. Also they sat amicably all DEATH AND LIFE 35 together and cooed to each other, whereas in the beginning they had often pecked at each other. Also they now began to sing, so wonderful to hear, whereas in the begin- ning they had only croaked hoarsely. And all day long Gautama stood and watched and peeped at them. When now the day came upon which the last black feather had appeared, Gautama thought: "To be sure I came hither that I might vanquish death. But what boots it to rob these creatures of their lives ? Were it not better that I contained myself in equanimity ? Were it not better that I hold death even as life, and life even as death ? Why should I strive ? I am aweary of willing." So he went over and opened the cage. The three doves fluttered out, encircled him three times, and thereupon soared straight aloft until they appeared only as tiny gleam- ing points, and then still higher soared until they quite disappeared in the blue ether. Then Gautama thought, " I will go to 36 BUDDHIST STORIES the old man of the mountain and tell him." But when he came to the place, behold there was no old man of the mountain there ; there was, however, a still lake which lay before his eyes like a mirror of crystal, and out in the middle there swam a crane. It sat motionless, and had its head hidden under its wings. Gautama slipped down quietly to the water's edge, and looked out at the crane, and looked down to the very bottom of the lake, where the many-coloured pebbles lay and the white sand-grains with the nimble fish darting to and fro. And he felt so wonderfully at peace, so full of delight in his mind, that he thought within himself: " When was I ever so wonderfully at peace, so full of delight in my mind, as now when I sit by this clear lake, and see the sleeping crane and the many-coloured pebbles and the little fish down below. How sweet is peace ! " Thus he sat till the sun disappeared behind the mountains. Then he got up DEATH AND LIFE 37 and went homewards, and although there was neither sun nor moon, yet he saw his way before him as if it had been day. And next morning he stood before that old man in the hut. The old man smiled and said : " Art thou there, Gautama ? Hast thou vanquished death ? " " Venerable one," replied Gautama, " I have not vanquished him, because I could not eat those three doves. But what do I care about death ? Death is to me even as life, and life is to me even as death. Vener- able one, I live in peace, without discord." " Tell me," said the old man. Then that Gautama began to tell what had happed to him upon his wanderings and when he was with the old man of the mountain. And when he had ended, the other said : " Sadhu, my son ! Thou hast vanquished death ! " Now when this Gautama came again to the cross-road and turned to the right into the high-road, there came from the other direction those others together with whom 38 BUDDHIST STORIES he had once left the village, and at this very same time they turned to the left into the high-road. And as they drew near to each other, those others greeted Gautama with much respect for they did not recognise him. All about them they carried sacks beneath the weight of which they groaned and sweated. But Gautama carried nothing but his stick in his right hand, and went along quietly and in comfort. Whoso reads this story, let him know that that turning to the left when the others turned to the right signifies the love of soli- tude, and is the beginning of all that is good. For, as everything of the fruit nature requires warmth for its proper development, so every- thing in man that is good requires solitude that it may come to ripeness. The bound- less plain around that stretched out like a smooth cloth — that is freedom from worldly thoughts ; and the shadow is conscience. For, as it is only in the open plain that we can see the full measure of our shadow, no matter in what oosition the sun may be, so it is DEATH AND LIFE 39 only in freedom from worldly thoughts that we experience the full power of conscience. And as at times our shadow lies behind us and at times runs before us, so conscience runs back and forth between the events of the past and the projects of the future. The old man before the hut, whom Gautama saw when he lifted his eyes, is the voice of reason which always speaks so soon as the confusion and foolishness of what is worldly is stilled. The Ganges is the stream of human sufferings, up which he must go who strives for the highest, until he comes to the source, that is, to the origin of all sufferings. The red robe is the token of lust and sensuality, the calabash the sign of self-conceit and arrogance, and loud speech the sign of anger and hatred. All three must be laid aside by whoso passes beyond the haunts of men, that is, by him who would flee from the tumult and turmoil of the world out into the loneliness of the /". The staff is right thought. The storms and snowy weather are the voices of conscience, which here in these solitudes speak in tones 40 BUDDHIST STORIES of thunder what they only whisper among the abodes of men. As one who stops his ear with his finger hears the sounds in his body like a deafening uproar, so one who has closed his ears against the tumult of the world hears the voice of conscience resound within himself like thunder. Mount Meru, however, is that holiest in us which is capable of raising us above our- selves. Gautama saw Mount Meru so soon as it saw him, and it grew before his eyes till it reached the zenith, and lay behind him as it also lay before him, all which means : This all-holy, so soon as we get sight of it, is known by us as verily the all-holy, and we see nothing else beside it. It fills up the entire field of our spiritual vision. Where- soever we turn our gaze, there it is : there is nothing else beside it. And as Gautama could only reach Mount Meru with eyes closed — in sleep, so to speak — so we can attain this holiest in us, not by action and strain, but by letting go. The old man of the mountain is the voice of this holiest within us, and as Gautama, DEATH AND LIFE 41 when the old man saw him, saw also the old man and knew that it was the old man, so is it with the voice of this holiest within us. Its speech is truth, and at the same time the evidence of the truth of that which is spoken. Word is here no longer mere formula or sign, but being itself. The three black doves are self-ness in its threefold fundamental form of love for one's own /, ill-will against any other external /, and the delusion which represents these two as natural and justifiable. The gradual transition from black to white is the gradual dying out of this three-headed self-ness through a life of attentiveness and reflective- ness. In whomsoever this three-headed self- ness has died out — for him there is no longer any death. For as night is only present where day is present, and only so long as there is day, so is death only present where there is life, and only so long as there is life ; but life is self-ness. That crystal-clear mountain lake is the fruit and reward of that renunciation, of that 42 BUDDHIST STORIES letting go. As, however, that crane hid his head in his own feathers, so this letting go hides its reward in itself, is deed and the reward of deed in one, because it is the state of letting go. He in whom the holiest is awake — he is inward light, hence he needs no outward light. Going homeward is this : As a man who has raised himself by a mighty upward leap must yet come back to earth again, so one who has raised himself above his own / must yet come back again to this /. But he brings somewhat with him of that from which he returns. And this is just the reason that he is greeted with respect, and that the others do not know him. That in going forth he turns to the left off the high-road, and in returning turns once more to the right into the high-road — this means that in the beginning he is as a fool in the eyes of men, but in the end, a sage and a saint. ARCHITECT OF HIS FATE IN Colombo, in the suburb of Kolupitiya, there lived a man named Nanda, who had neither parents nor brothers nor sisters, but who possessed something better than these, namely, the gracious memory of their love and of their virtues. Besides these, however, he had a friend and a sweet- heart. His friend's name was Kosiya and his sweetheart's, Punna. The latter was observing a year of mourning for the death of her father, so that they had still some ten months to wait for their wedding. One day, Nanda went alone to take a walk in the wood of coco-palms that lay along the shore. Cool and strong blew the ocean wind ; low bowed the tops of the palm trees ; in thunder broke the white- rimmed sea. Our Nanda was in an extremely happy 44 BUDDHIST STORIES frame of mind. As he walked quietly along he thought within himself, "Am not I the luckiest man in the world ? Who else has such a friend, such a bride to be, so beautiful, so sensible, so pious, and both of them so true?" Meanwhile he came to a clearing through which the wind blew gustily. And since here, almost the whole year round, the wind blew from the sea, the vegetation had assumed an extraordinary shape. It had only grown upon the side turned away from the wind. Now our Nanda was in that state of inward equipoise, in which the merest trifle produces a profound effect upon us ; he was in that condition in which a dog, sleeping in the sun, or a pair of kittens at play, may become objects of the greatest interest, and give rise to the deepest reflections, and so he came to a halt, pondering, before these strange-looking bushes. "How truly great is the might of per- severance!" he thought. "Real strength lies in persistent endurance. Will my ARCHITECT OF HIS FATE 45 Kosiya in friendship and my Punna in love thus persistently endure ? " All at once it seemed to him that he as good as knew nothing if he did not know this. In that moment he fell into man's great vice — the vice of sacrificing the flow- ing cup of the present and the treasure- house of the past, in order to filch a tiny crumb from the future ; no, not to filch any such crumb, for the future will elude no man and no man will elude the future. Yet, just to get this tiny crumb a little bit earlier, they give up their all. The whole of philo- sophy, which teaches man to stand still under the hammer of necessity, they sur- render for the petty arts of the soothsayer and the fortune-teller. He began to brood. " Certainly ," ran his thought, "my good fortune is great, but it would be still greater good fortune if only I knew that it was going to last. I must devise some test for this." So he thought and thought, until the setting sun warned him that it was time to turn homewards. 46 BUDDHIST STORIES The whole night through he was kept from sleeping by this one thought. At long last, with the morning light his plan took shape. At one stroke he would put to the test the faithfulness both of betrothed and of friend. He would go a long journey as if upon urgent business, and during his absence would entrust his bride to the care of his friend. Neither of them as yet had seen the other, for his friend led a life of solitude. More and more absorbed did he become in his plan. It was now no longer a question of, Would lie or not ? it was only a question of How ? A voice within him spoke in warning, "Why stake all your happiness upon a single card ? " But already the madness was too strong upon him. Even the prospect of a lengthy separation from his beloved no longer had power to dismay him. When he thought his plan sufficiently worked out in all its details, he betook him- self to his friend Kosiya at Bambalupitiya. The latter lived in a little house flanked by a couple of banana trees, and led up ARCHITECT OF HIS FATE 47 to by two wooden steps. Kosiya fared rather scantily. In the morning he ate a cake of rice which he bought at the bakers for a halfpenny. At noon he ate a dish of rice and a little vegetable curry, and in the evening, he took what was left over, along with a couple of bananas. At all meals his only drink was pure spring water. Thus he lived, a diligent reader of the Suttas,* and fully occupied with the work of reflecting upon himself. For he had seen and understood that all good here below is comprehended in the avoiding of evil, and that evil is only overthrown by reflection, is consumed in it as camphor in fire, naught remaining, not even ashes. " My work," he would say, " does not lie in doing, but in refraining from doing. ,, One day Nanda said to him, "You live like a monk. Why do you not enter the Order of the Exalted One ? You would live more comfortably." With a smile, Kosiya replied : " Because I am a glutton ; that is why I do not enter * The Discourses of the Buddha. 48 BUDDHIST STORIES the Order of the Exalted One. My stomach demands an evening meal." The brothers of the Order of the Buddha may not partake of food after noon. " Moreover," Kosiya continued, " I am vain. I could not endure to go about with shaven head." And, indeed, he had a head of hair so full and long, and withal so fine and glossy, as was possessed by scarcely another in Colombo, and he wore it after the old fashion, coiled up high, with a comb of tortoise-shell stuck in it. " For," he would say, "that was the way of our fathers, and ought not to be laid aside except under necessity." For the rest, he was strong and tall of stature, with serious, regular features, and at this time might have been some- where about the beginning of the thirties in age. Moreover, he had not always lived as a recluse, but had passed his earlier years like other young fellows, and had been through more than a few love adventures. All at once, after a certain night of revelling, he had become this present Kosiya ARCHITECT OF HIS FATE 49 Nanda once was sitting in the shade, reading an English book. " What sort of book is that you are read- ing ? " Kosiya asked. "What sort of book should it be?" answered Nanda. " Love ! love ! As always, nothing but love! Just as you came, they were kissing and fondling one another and enjoying the keenest delight; but I'll wager you, on the very next page they will both be lamenting in the deepest despair. What a madness is this, which impels us again and again to inflame our fancy with these imaginings ! It sometimes seems to me as if we played with these love-images over and over again, only in order that we may not perceive the reality — I mean, death. For, confess it yourself, what hinders us from clear thinking more than love ? " " Nanda," said the other, " what a way to talk ! I see you, I hear your voice, and yet it is as if it were some one else speaking ! Truly it is a frenzy, an in- toxication that has taken possession of us all. Is not intoxication intoxication ? Is 50 BUDDHIST STORIES not one kind of intoxication equally as dis- graceful as any other? We deride and despise a person who has become a child through the inebriation that comes of indul- gence in wine, but we ourselves every day become childish again through the inebria- tion of love ! Nanda, ought we not to try to become sober ? Ought not the pleasures of sobriety to have as great charms for us as the pleasures of drunkenness ? And can I not better enjoy every pleasure when my understanding is clear and my brain vigilant ? Simply out of desire for increased enjoyment, ought we not to become sober and shun drunkenness ? Ought we not to train ourselves in sober thinking, as the athlete trains the muscles of his arms and legs ? Nay, ought we not to be much more ardent than he, since our goal is so much the more important ? Nanda, your words have brought light to me ! This very day I make a beginning ! " " Dear Kosiya," began Nanda, " for me, I much fear me, it is all too late to begin the career of an athlete in sobriety. You ARCHITECT OF HIS FATE 51 must know, my friend, since yesterday I have fallen in love past all redemption. From that circumstance alone springs my present disgust at this love story. I cannot see her again until to-morrow. How shall I pass the time till then? I would almost have despaired, and actually thought of death. Finally, in my distress I seized this book, and then you came. Forgive me that I have unintentionally lured you along a false track." " You call that a false track ! Do you really think that, as a drunken man, you are capable of distinguishing what is true from what is false ? " " Oh, if you knew Punna ! There is none like her in all the world. Follow my example, Kosiya !" " What's the use of the whole world, of me included, falling in love, when you have already appropriated the best before- hand ? " " Don't mock ! Follow my example, Kosiya ! There is only one real happiness in the world. If only you knew what true 52 BUDDHIST STORIES love is ! Ah, if I could only remain for ever in this delightful drunkenness ! M " Nanda, I now see with my own eyes how great is the danger. Hitherto I have known it only by hearsay. It is to me as if something were emitted from you like the breath from a drunken man. Since I am not yet inebriated like you, I will try first the worth of soberness, for I think it is easier to turn one's self from being a sober man to being a drunkard, than to turn from being a drunkard to being a sober man. Hence, if I don't find sobriety to my taste, drunkenness is still left to me ! " " But, dear Kosiya, can a sober man and a drunkard remain friends ? M 11 Our friendship, my Nanda, will become stronger than ever. For, the man who has become sober is more capable of true friend- ship than he was before, and the drunkard stands more than ever in need of him." Thus did the two friends shake hands upon a bond of friendship for life, and thus from this hour onwards did Kosiya begin his life of sobriety. He had now lived it ARCHITECT OF HIS FATE 53 for more than three years, and when Nanda would jestingly ask him — " Now, friend, is not sobriety a rather tasteless dish ? " he would answer thought- fully— " It tastes pure. It is the only dish that tastes pure." Nanda, on the other hand, in the winning of his Punna, had come through a year of torment and agitation, until finally a few months ago he had succeeded in securing her promise to be his bride. The death of her father postponed the date of their marriage, and Nanda was left with sufficient leisure in which to revel in dreams of future bliss. We have seen how he was minded to employ this leisure. Entering Kosiya's house, he found him seated cross-legged on the floor of the back veranda, attired in an immaculate white jacket and loin-cloth. He was busily en- gaged studying a palm-leaf manuscript. After due greetings, Nanda began — "Would it not be better, friend, if you again began to mix a little among men ? " 54 BUDDHIST STORIES In some surprise Kosiya looked at him. Nanda went on — " You will end by completely dying out in yourself." But then, "Oh dear ! " he cried, "there, I've gone and put my foot in it! Your precise aim is to die out ! " " It is not dying out that is our goal," answered Kosiya, "but a life free from desire and craving. Cessation follows of itself, as darkness follows when the light burns itself out." " Kosiya, I am not a clever talker. If I were to go on talking with a hidden object in view, I would be sure to make a bundle of it. So I will just say to you straight out ; you must do me a favour." " Most willingly, friend, if it is in my power." " Oh, you won't be asked to give me money or put in a word for me anywhere. This is quite within your power and is quite simple. The thing is this. When I was walking yesterday on the shore and came to the clearing where the wind-twisted shrubbery grows, the thought came to me that real ARCHITECT OF HIS FATE 55 strength lies in constancy. Hence the strength of love also must rest in constancy. Hence, also, the greatest love must be that which is the most constant. I thought further, * How can I make sure whether my Punna's love will prove constant or not ? ' And all at once it seemed to me that all the world was worth nothing to me if I could not discover this. So I resolved to put her to the test, and have pondered over it the whole night through, and finally came to the conclusion that this can only come about through you. For you are true, and will never do anything unworthy of our friend- ship. To be brief, I will go upon a lengthy journey, and in the mean time you shall pay court to her, and do everything seemly that a man may do to make a woman fall in love with him. If she stands this test, I will be completely satisfied, and henceforth believe that I enjoy the greatest happiness possible upon earth." Kosiya was silent for a space ; then he began — " Friend Nanda, I am only some two 56 BUDDHIST STORIES years older than you. I am not sure if it is exactly my place to tender you advice ; all the same, I think you had better abandon your scheme." " But why ? " cried Nanda, warmly. " Because it is not the straight way. Whoso puts crooked questions to Fate ought not to be surprised if he receives crooked answers." " What do you mean by your crooked and straight ? What else do I want to do, but assure myself of the faithfulness of my betrothed ? This is the straight road to that end." "All right! Let it be that it is the straight road, the question remains, 'Is it necessary that you should go this straight road?' It is not necessary that a road should be followed simply because it is a straight one." " Kosiya, believe me, if ever I am to enjoy peace of mind in this life, I must make this test. Is it not a friend's duty to give peace of mind to his friend ? " " There we come to the other side of t he ARCHITECT OF HIS FATE 57 business. You say it is quite simple and is quite within my power. To be sure, you require from me neither money nor recom- mendations, but you ask for my own /. I am to give up my own peace, the care of my own /, in order to bring about your peace." " Can you not sacrifice your peace for a paltry couple of weeks out of love for your friend ? " " Do you not know that the Exalted One teaches — * Turn not aside from thine own goal For others, be they ne'er so great ! ' n " Your speech is not particularly like a friend's. But do you seriously think that it will endanger your wellbeing, if you make believe to pay court to a woman for a few weeks ? " Thus he went on pleading and urging, with all the more vehemence the more the other resisted. Then an idea occurred to Kosiya. He thought, " How can my friend's love be perfect, if even now he raises doubts as to the faithfulness of his betrothed ? Will he 58 BUDDHIST STORIES ever be certain? Will he not continually torture himself? For there are some men to whom all those good things bring only torment, which to others are a source of joy. Would it not be right that I should make the attempt to bring him also that secure peace of mind, free from desiring, which I have myself enjoyed these last few years ? " In this guise did vanity insinuate itself into Kosiya's heart ; thus did he forget his own weal that he might take upon himself the burden of his friend's wellbeing. He began. " If you really insist upon it I will do as you wish. Only you must promise me that you will stay away for at least three months, and also, in case the results of the test do not correspond with your expectations, that you will try to keep calm and lend your ear to exhortation." Filled with pleasure, Nanda fell on his neck. u I promise everything. Only, during the three months that I am away, you must write to me often." ARCHITECT OF HIS FATE 59 "Once a month is enough, my friend. You will hear from Punna much oftener than that." "Good, good! My best of friends! This very day I will take you to her, and to- morrow I start off. It will be best that you come with me now/' Thus toils the fool at the overthrowing of his fortune, even more zealously than he had laboured at its up-building. On their way to Punna Kosiya began again — " I see three possibilities, Nanda. I might see four of them, if at the same time you would like to put your friend also to the test." Nanda coloured up on the instant ; but Kosiya did not notice, for he was looking straight ahead of him. " Which three possibilities do you mean ? " " The first is, that her love remains true to you. In that case, all is well, at least for you. The second is, that she does not remain true. In this case all may be made 60 BUDDHIST STORIES well. The third is, that we may fall mutually in love with one another." Our Nanda began to feel uncomfortable. " How you talk ! M he said, " I feel quite sure of you." " No man is sure but he who shuns temptation. What is to be done in the last eventuality ? In that case she will belong to you by right, and to me by nature." " Punna belongs to me, and to no one else." Kosiya threw a side glance at him. They were now in front of the house. " Nanda, friend," he again began, " would you not rather leave this business alone? Time will teach you more surely than any test, whether or no your dear one is true to you. " Oho ! Do you think I am afraid you will cut me out ? " he laughed, at the same time knocking rather loudly at the door. The Tamil servant opened it. They entered the reception room where they found present both mother and daughter. The mother, a venerable-looking matron, ARCHITECT OF HIS FATE 61 was a cripple, and remained seated in a big Indian basket-work chair. Somewhat hurriedly, Nanda informed his betrothed that he must start next morning upon a long journey. Kosiya's presence seemed to be grateful to him, since it saved him from the first outbreak of surprise on his sweetheart's part. In accordance with the demands of etiquette, Punna listened in silence. Only a light u Oh i " came from her lips. After a brief interval, Kosiya took his departure, so as not to intrude upon the scene of parting. But before he went, Nanda, with a certain impressiveness, made him pledge himself to visit Punna at quite frequent intervals. In parting, Nanda shook his hand with such force that it hurt. I will not paint the parting scene between Nanda and Punna ; so many writers, skilled in the picturing of emotions, have described the most touching farewell scenes, that the reader may just pick out himself what he thinks is the best of them, and insert it at this part of my narrative. For, if manners 62 BUDDHIST STORIES in the East and in the West differ somewhat from one another, yet lovers are alike all the world over. So, next morning early, Nanda set off to Madras on the mainland. It happened to be exactly the first day of September. I would have it understood, that the only letters which will be exhibited in full are those from Kosiya to Nanda ; that those from Punna to Nanda will be given only in part, and those from Nanda to Punna not at all. For what publisher could undertake to publish all the scribblings of lovers ? Already, on the seventh of September, Kosiya received the following note : " Madras, 4th September. " Dear Kosiya, — " I am eagerly awaiting a letter from you. What do you think of Punna ? "Thy Nanda." To this Kosiya replied as follows : " Colombo, 8th September. " Dear Nanda, " Please bear in mind that it is part of our agreement that I am to write to you ARCHITECT OF HIS FATE 63 only once a month. So, have patience ! Besides, what can I write to you so soon already ? I as yet know no more than my eyes, and the eyes of everybody else for that matter, must tell them, that your betrothed is perfectly beautiful — so perfectly beautiful that one can say nothing- further than just, ' She is perfectly beautiful/ She possesses that peculiar type of beauty which is more frequently found amongst the Hindus than among the Sinhalese. However, you are perhaps still in a position to be able to call to mind from former times, that beauty is a property which your intended possesses in common with many another woman. Beauty alone, especially such perfect beauty, is, for a man of understanding and experience, no ground whatever for falling hopelessly in love. So I suppose that your adored one possesses certain specific excellences which for you make her unique, but which I in this short space of time have so far been unable to discover. So you must have patience until the end of the month, when my first letter is rightly due. This present epistle I shall be gracious enough not to in- clude in the reckoning, since it really contains nothing that has to do with our agreement. " So farewell ! and bear in mind the promises you made me. "Thy Kosiya." 64 BUDDHIST STORIES Punna to Nanda. " My best beloved Nanda, " I am still as if stupefied. When I awoke this morning early, my pain was greatest. I woke up with a sorrowful sensation in my heart, but knew nothing of yesterday. Then, like a flash of lightning, memory returned, and I felt so lonely in my heart, so sick to death. I cannot describe it to you. It seemed to me as if everything in me was all burnt up and could never, never grow again. ' How shall I live through this day ? ' was my thought. But it now seems to me, that the best way to teach any one to endure is to lay upon them a still heavier burden. For, when evening came, and the time returned in which you have always been with me, then I wished that the morning were back again, which at least had the day behind it. "It is now time to go to sleep, but I cannot. My relief must be this letter. il Beloved, I cannot write any more. I have sat up long into the night. I feel as if all my senses were frozen. Nanda, I think that if you loved me as I love you, there would not be any business in the world of sufficient importance to tear you away from me for three months. " Dearest, in spirit I now say good-night ARCHITECT OF HIS FATE 65 to thee. I feel thy hand on mine. How gently you stroke it ! Ah, how painful happiness can be ! "Thy Punna." " Colombo, 8th September. " My only beloved Nanda, " I have read both letters with the sweetest emotions. I carry them about with me and keep on reading them and reading them, although I knew them both by heart long ago. Beloved, how comes it that my greatest comfort is to know that you also suffer ? What a peculiar thing is the torment of love ! "You ask me if I have wept. Alas, Beloved ! I am such a foolish girl. I know well that weeping is useless. Our religion teaches it so often. But the comforts of religion at present appear to me so un- satisfying, so useless, as if not meant for us at all. You must not think, however, that I go about all the day with streaming eyes. I must let you know frankly that tears came to my eyes just twice, but then I thought of the promise that I gave you, and I crushed them down again. "You ask if your friend has visited me often. He was here the day after your departure, before I had written the first letter. I quite forgot to tell you. Yester- day he was here again. Every time that F 66 BUDDHIST STORIES my sorrow allows me the opportunity, I have wondered why you wish him to call so often. I have just a little suspicion that in him you have placed a spy upon me, but do not think, beloved, that I say that in earnest. " I will privately confide to you that I hope for a letter from you to-morrow again. I cannot think of it without my heart leaping. "Thy foolish Punna." * Colombo, 26th September. 11 My only Dearest, " You complain that, since your departure, I have only written four letters to you, and that I do not tell everything I do and suffer through the day with sufficient detail. Believe me, dearest, the whole day is spent in telling you what I do and suffer. I speak only to thee. To others I speak only as a puppet to puppets. But it is so difficult to write down what one feels. It is so cold looking, so lifeless. I am afraid my letters give you a very poor idea of my love for you. " For your friend, who at first was an object of indifference to me, and then — for- give me — somewhat tiresome, I am begin- ning to feel thankful to you. He has been here several times ; his latest visit was last ARCHITECT OF HIS FATE 67 night. We spoke continually of you. Last night we happened by chance to speak of the views of philosophers concerning love. He is going to tell me something about it out of a book next time he comes. He maintains that it is not good for people to continue in grief and sadness. He holds that it is not distraction but thinking about pain that is the best cure for pain. What an extra- ordinary idea ! Altogether, he holds very peculiar views, but many a time I half think that he is right. For, when I am almost sick with longing, and I think strongly of the object of my longing — guess who that is — it seems to me as if I found relief. But I frankly believe that he meant it quite another way. " Ah, my beloved, how I long for thee ! "Thy Punna." Kosiya to Nanda. " Colombo, 30th September. "My dear Nanda, " I imagine that you have been expecting a letter from me these last few days. But I will not tease you, I know that you have been counting the days. " When I think that one-third of the testing time has passed, I must frankly admit that so far I have not done very much ; indeed, up till now I have been 68 BUDDHIST STORIES unable to arrange any test. During the first few days, your intended was insensible in her grief to all external influences. At the very outset I had to find some means of calling her attention to my existence. This I succeeded in doing by speaking continually about you. In this way she grew accustomed to me, but it was a long time before the waves of the pain of parting had subsided. Only lately did I succeed in making a little progress, by passing from love as it reigned between a certain Nanda and a certain Punna, to love in general. From this position I think I shall be able to make a safe advance. I shall pose as a despiser of love and of its joys, and in this I shall be all the more successful, seeing that, as you know, I shall here be saying what I really feel. For my part, I frankly feel that, in this domain, it is out of place to amuse one's self and practise deception, and I also know that later on I shall receive my punishment for it, but I comfort myself with the thought that I am doing it all in the service of friendship. " My plan is this. This contempt for love must call forth from her a rebuttal. She will begin to fight against me. But that is a sort of lover's sport. For, love also is nothing else but a fight, which is to be distinguished from other fighting only in ARCHITECT OF HIS FATE 69 this, that the pleasure derived from it is found, not so much in victory, as in the fight itself and in submission. Victory and defeat here signify much about the same thing and are both equally sweet. Hence, where two fight with one another, even to the point of mutual hatred, they only, as it were, prepare the soil of love. Indifference only is the death of love. " I now expect, however, unless she is quite different from all other feminine creatures, that she will »try to convert me, not only by words but also by deeds ; in a word, my hope is, that in order to convince me of the falsity of my ideas, she will attempt to make me fall in love with her myself. Every girl, every woman thinks that she can venture on this in perfect safety, because she knows herself to be only jesting. But in love, jest only too often passes unnoticed into earnest ; the deceiver becomes a deceived deceiver, and cannot find his way back again. I know that the truth of this law may be demonstrated, not only in women, but also in men ; and amongst these latter in a certain one called Kosiya. But my safety lies precisely in this, that I know that this is the case. "You see, my good Nanda, that I am zealous about the work. Perhaps you are wondering at my zeal. To-day I only want 70 BUDDHIST STORIES to let you know that I shall carry out my plan. Oh, I hope that everything will turn out all right for you, for me, and perhaps also for her. At all events, so much in her is steadfast, that this is the only art and fashion from which I promise myself any result. In case, however, you think that a test of this kind is against our agreement, just let me know, and we will give up the whole affair. For I can inform you that nothing is to be done with your betrothed by the usual methods, by flattery and lover-like languishings. She would only laugh at such things, for she is sensible to a high degree and has a rare turn for logical thought. In one word, she is sound through and through and inaccessible to any sickly sentiment. The only point where she is vulnerable is, as said, in that love of battle which every healthy person possesses, so long as he has not had it dried up within him through reflection. "In order to complete the picture of your beloved, I must add that she is discreet, and does not appear to be conscious either of her beauty or of her rare virtues. The crown of all, however, I consider to be her good-natured inoffensiveness, which is always inclined to see and to think the best of everybody — a quality exceptionally rare among clever women, the which, however, I ARCHITECT OF HIS FATE 71 feel disposed to prize more highly than all other excellences taken together. " So much for one day. " Best wishes and greetings, "From Thy Kosiya." " Punna to Nanda. * Colombo, 9th October. " My beloved Nanda, " I really do not know how to write letters properly, but I know very well how to read them — that is, your letters ; of others I know nothing. What was troubling your mind when you wrote your last letter ? Have you met with some annoyances in the affairs that have called you away to Madras, or have I unwittingly said something to cross you ? Dearest, do tell me what it is ! I am so disquieted. Ah, if only your business were all finished and I only had you back with me again ! Do you still remember that evening when we sat to- gether, a short time before your departure, and a big fire-fly alighted on my shoulder, so that suddenly in the darkness we could see one another's faces ? Do you still remember how at that moment we smiled to each other ? Ah, dearest, best beloved, how could I ever possibly live without you ? Only come soon, come soon ! Oh, I can still remember a whole host of such glances, 72 BUDDHIST STORIES and I would not exchange one of them for a kingdom ! I am looking for you every day, every day. "Alas, beloved! What a terrible thing is parting to lovers ! But ought we then to misunderstand one another ? Wert thou here, one glance would make everything right. You reproach me that at the beginning of my letter I say — ' I speak only like a puppet to puppets,' and then at the end — * I had an animated conversation with your friend Kosiya/ Dearest Nanda, we have always spoken of nothing but of thee. He told me so many beautiful things about you. I was so grateful and loved you so much. Only once did we wander from you, to speak of the views of the philosophers about love. It came in quite appropriately. Indeed, I think it was myself that turned the con- versation in that direction, and your friend then began to unfold his own views on the subject. Only think, dearest ! He holds love in contempt. He seeks some stand- point superior to love. I only laughed. As if there were any standpoint higher than love ! What do you think, Nanda ? Is not that the highest standpoint which yields the highest happiness ? And is not love the highest happiness ? Would it not be a triumph for our love to lead this unbeliever back to love ? For, I refuse to believe that ARCHITECT OF HIS FATE 73 any one can be by nature a foe to love. Certainly he also formerly thought other- wise. But, dearest, if you think that I should not engage any more in such con- versations, just write to me so at once. I will stop it at once and tell him — ' Nanda does not like it.' " With longing I await a letter from thee. " Thine ever faithful Punna." " Colombo, 1 8th October. u Dearest, how long you have kept me waiting and then what a cruel letter ! Ah, have pity ! You say that the disquietude which I feel is not the result of your letter, for your letter was written with feelings entirely unchanged. How cold ! But the disquietude lay in myself. Ah, perhaps you are quite right, my Nanda. Truly I am tormented with disquietude day and night by reason of your absence. It seems to me as if I have been more quiet before than I am now. I am so sad and miserable all the day. Yesterday evening your friend was here. He comes mostly in the evenings. He has such a peculiar way of rousing me and provoking me to contradict him. He speaks of love, hope and happiness as coldly as if he were teaching mathematics. He is a remarkable man. I believe I have already convinced him on several points, but I am 74 BUDDHIST STORIES not yet quite sure. This I think I ought to tell you. At first, however, I did not want to, but because you want to hear everything I tell it also to you. Your friend has just read me bits out of the Suttas * about love. He clearly proved to me that, wherever life is recognised to be suffering, love is the worst of all things, since it fetters us for ever to life and at the same time to suffering. At first I shrank a little. But then I thought, and told him, J That all life is suffering I know quite well, just because all life is transitory. But that love is the best thing in the world — this I know just as surely. And the Exalted One himself cannot abate my belief/ Then he laughed, and said that I reasoned just the way all women reason. But what harm is there in that ? My pride it is just that I am a woman. But then he began to paint the greatness of solitude and of the recluse. He called him the only freeman : all others were the slaves of love. He compared him with the sun, and made use of such words and images, that I could do nothing but sit and listen to him in admiration. But do not imagine that I allowed him to see anything of it. After all they are only ideals that he sets forth — ideals which neither your friend nor any one else in the world can ever realise. My * Portions of the Pali Buddhist Scriptures. ARCHITECT OF HIS FATE 75 Nanda, have you ever reflected upon love from this point of view ? But what a silly question to ask ! " How splendid is this night, so dark and so luminous ! I am in such a mood of fore- boding, like one who looks upon something vast ! And is not this splendour something vast ! Ah, if only you were sitting beside me ! But I feel quite serene and happy, exactly as if you really were sitting beside me. It seems as if the night-wind gave me tidings of thee. Only come back soon, my Nanda, and stroke my hand again as you used to do. "Thy faithful Punna." Kosiya to Nanda. "Colombo, 31st October. " Dearest Friend, " Everything has gone exactly as I had anticipated. She has taken up the challenge. She is trying to convert me. I would scarcely have known that she was a woman if this womanly trait had not at last come to light. How moving she is ! Her coquetry is even more natural than the naturalness of coquettes. Nanda, if I carry this test through to a finish and in the pro- cess do not myself fall in love, I am a rascal. What torments me always is the doubt if I am doing right, but I will tell you later, 76 BUDDHIST STORIES dearest friend, what in reality drives me on. Oh, how splendidly everything may turn out. " I have just been reading out to her some passages from the Suttas about love. I in- vited her to make the deductions that follow upon the law, 'All life is suffering,' as it affects love. I am aware that I was merci- less, and showed no sympathy with her anguished fluttering. When she no longer knew what to do to save herself, she took a defiant leap over the boundaries of logic, away into that domain in which no rules any longer hold good. But when I then began to speak of the greatness of solitude, I saw clearly by her shining eyes how she felt and understood along with me. How I envy thee such a noble heart! Marriage is not for her. She is quite capable of compre- hending the highest in the teaching of the Blessed One. When I promised you to put her to the test, I did so because I did not know her. Now I continue just because I do know her! Perhaps a double benefit will flow from my action. I speak in riddles ; but only have patience, my best of friends ! " You naturally will know if there is actually anything happening. What shall I say ? I only have certain impressions. The only thing that does not seem to be quite right is this — that she has denied her- self to me for the last two or three days. ARCHITECT OF HIS FATE 77 The servant said that she was ill, that she was in bed. But I heard in the next room the rustling of her robe. I cannot have been mistaken. " That is about all that I have to tell you to-day. I have forgotten something. Her coquetry does not run in the direction of changes in her dress, flowers, perfumes, etc., as you may perhaps imagine. Oh no ! Punna is far above such devices. It was only a coquetry of thought, a sort of dwelling upon points where one had expected more rapid progress. Somewhat as if a musician should coquet with his theme, and by some fresh transposition bring it once more in a fresh form to the astonished ear. " But enough ! If I go on chattering like this, you will have good right to say that I am already in love, and that thus the fourth of my possibilities has come to pass. But I place reliance in the fact that I see each step I take. " Farewell, my only friend." Punna to Nanda. " Colombo, 2nd November. l( My good Nanda, " You keep impressing on me again and again that I am to let you know every little thing that occurs every individual day. I am doing so faithfully. I cannot do more than I am already doing. You distress me 78 BUDDHIST STORIES with your insistence. If you only knew how scattered are my thoughts ! How can I seize all of them ? I am restless as I have never been before in all my life. You ask if, perhaps, my intercourse with your friend has not something to do with it. That means : You think it might perhaps be as well if I dismissed him. But why, my Nanda ? I really do not know why. Let him keep on coming ; it does not trouble me. I mean — do not take me up wrongly — he speaks of high things which must trouble every thinking being. I am really telling you everything. Last night I was not able to see him because I was ill ; that is to say, not so ill that I had to lie down — you need not be anxious about me — but I only had an indisposition which will soon pass away. On the whole, if you should think anything — but what am I saying ? My Nanda, and jealous ? Dearest, I have trust only in thee. It seems to me as if I hated this Kosiya. I hate this cold calculator, this so — I do not know what to say, but you know him better than I do. But I speak so, just in case this may have something to do with my unrest. But really, what silly stuff I am writing ! " My Nanda, think, think always of me, as I shall make it my principal occupation to think of thee. " Thy faithful Punna." ARCHITECT OF HIS FATE 79 "Colombo, 13th November. ? Dear heaven, Nanda, how shall I write to you if you take up my words that way ? What is this that you have made out of my harmless expression, that thinking of thee is my principal occupation ? For the ex- pression is really harmless. Alas ! Alas ! and yet — O miserable me ! But you dare not make out of it what you have made out of it. How can you know that it is now a toilsome occupation for me to think of you ? But perhaps there was something in my letter that you have misread. It was written so badly. Alas, I really do not know ! But surely, Nanda, that is not just. No ! And I think that justice is the first thing I must require from my future husband. I do not think that I could love any one who is not just. Oh, what a mad woman I am ! Forgive me, forgive me ! I cannot write another word. As soon as I can I will write more. I think I must write you something. I must indeed. " Thy unhappy Punna." 11 Colombo, 22nd November. "Alas, Nanda, your words are sharper than daggers in my heart. I convert any- one to the happiness of love ? Unfortunate that I am ! Who was it that taught me that love was the greatest happiness ? It is the greatest torture ! O Nanda, you know all. 80 BUDDHIST STORIES But if you only knew how I suffer; how every night I sob and cry ! Oh, I ought to have told you long ago. But what ? What ? Oh what is going to happen ? Where shall I find comfort ? In religion ? How shall I look in religion for something which I can only find in myself? But if I had had religion in me I should never have come to this, for the Exalted One has shown us clearly what is to be avoided. I cry for comfort and find none. O Nanda, my dear beloved, my delight, my only happiness, where art thou ? Only stay ! Oh, I stretch out my arms to you. Come, I will fly to thy breast. Woe is me, I am raving ! Oh how I hate dissimulation ! More than poison, more than death ! I might be at peace if only I knew that I was now at least speak- ing without dissimulation. Oh if only you had never gone away ! Is that true ? Oh, my brain is turned. I know nothing, only that I am the most unfortunate of women." Kosiya to Nanda. " Colombo, 24th November. "My Nanda, " Friend I may not any longer call you — my fate has overtaken me. I write this because my members do their service out of old use and habit, but inwardly I am ARCHITECT OF HIS FATE Si as one mangled, crushed flat beneath the iron wheels of Fate. My foolishness and my presumption are to blame for everything. "The third month is not yet completed but the game is over. It all happened this way. When day after day I could not get to see her, I became impatient. My fancy began to work. I thought that she with- drew herself from me because love was beginning to work. Presumptuous that I was ! At last I began to watch the house. One day when I saw the servant go off to the bazaar I knocked at the door. She opened it herself. I knew well that she must open it herself. In that moment, as her glance met mine, I felt that my fate was sealed for ever. A peculiar gleam was in her eye, such as I had never seen there before. She seemed to me to be a little thinner. She must have suffered. I felt how my heart clave to her and I stood there like a culprit. Never in all my life have I felt at once so happy and so miserable. I talked a few stupid commonplaces for which I could have kicked myself. Certainly the loss of inward assurance is, for the man, a much more serious loss than for the woman, because, with the latter, helplessness may only give her a fresh charm ; the man, however, it only makes laughable or contemptible. 11 1 begged her to let me call again. She 82 BUDDHIST STORIES agreed with perfect simplicity. So I saw her again, saw her more often than ever. She remained perfectly calm and dignified. I, on the contrary, behaved like a boy, like a fool. I spoke at the wrong time, and was silent at the wrong time, and my speech, like my silence, said only one thing : * I love thee ! ' Oh how ashamed I was of this shameless openness ! But, what was worse, my former impudent assurance of her love for me, in the face of her present behaviour, became ever more and more turned into doubt. All my self-confidence was gone. Day after day I was mercilessly tossed hither and thither. I groaned at the caprices of women. To-day I know that it was not their caprices that tortured me but my own foolishness. I in fact saw everything only through the frenzy of my love. " At last, yesterday, I could bear it no longer. So, in a sort of despair, I made my venture. I knew I was betraying my friend, ruining my own future in this and in the next life, and insulting perhaps the noblest woman that lives. But nothing mattered. That is precisely the madness of love. What I said or did I do not know, for I was out of my senses. But, Nanda, you ought to have seen the dignity and kindness with which she refused me. O Exalted One, what cloistered quiet is deep enough ever to lead ARCHITECT OF HIS FATE 83 me to forget that scene ? She was as a goddess to me. " The betrayed betrayer am I, Nanda. I am he who, from the safe shore of reflective- ness, ventured out upon the high seas of love, and there, seized by a whirlwind, was no longer able to make his way back again. Believe me, she herself did nothing but fight out the honourable contest into which she was lured by my cunning. On me lies all the blame. " Nanda, I will confess everything to you. When you came into the quiet of my hut and pressed me to play a part towards your intended, it was my duty, the duty of the reflective man, to convince you by reason- ing of the foolishness of your plan. But I allowed myself to be led away by pre- sumption. I thought, * If I cause the betrothed of this my only friend to be un- faithful to him, I shall be able to lead him also into this serene peace which I myself now so fully enjoy.' Fool that I was ! I had nothing but a look, ever the same, in the mirror of my pride. It was thus that I departed from that first rule of prudence in all virtue — to shun temptation. Thus did I fling heedlessly away my own spiritual good, in order — perhaps! — to save thine. Once more, Fool that I was! How did I know what your good was, whether, indeed, it might 84 BUDDHIST STORIES not lie precisely in love ? For, as through a gateway, through love also may well lie the road to Nibbana. What, however, was my own ill — that I knew, and yet I went that road. " That is one thing. The other is this. I was not straightforward with you when you were quite straightforward with me and trusted everything to our friendship. I ought to have informed you of this concealed idea of mine. And so it is I that am to blame for everything, and on me appro- priately the punishment falls. Gladly, too, will I take it all upon me, if I could only know that no disturbance in your relation- ship has taken place through my rascally cunning. If anything of that kind should occur, Nanda, I do not know how I could bear it. If I have ever been anything to you, believe me this once when I say, ' She is the noblest, most intelligent, gentlest and faithfullest of all women.' That shall be the last cry that shall go forth from me into the world. My heart shall henceforth bleed behind the walls of the cloister ; that shall be my punishment. You shall see me no more, save in the yellow robe and with shaven head. Cursed be vanity ! " You will say, ' What sort of punishment is that ? For long already you have been living the life of a monk/ This is the ARCHITECT OF HIS FATE 85 punishment, Nanda ; that I shall take with me, into the quiet of the cloister, a worldly heart, and that I shall take up the struggle against sensuality without any hope. And yet, in spite of all, something lives in me which calls me to further effort. I still retain an appreciation of the inestimable value of man's life. Wholly unhappy he only is, who has lost all faith in himself. This, indeed, is our blessedness, that, not only the evil, but also the smallest good bears its due fruit. The earnest may well again upraise a ladder of cobwebs out of the depths of their misery. To struggle here is to be victorious. " But enough ! I scent pride. Faults are to be quelled as long as they are at their beginnings. " 1 have nothing more to say. I wish thee a true farewell, thou good, thou faithful one ! O Nanda, forgive me ! " Punna to Nanda. " Colombo, 24th November. "A madwoman has been writing to you. To-day, one who has awaked from madness to reason writes to you. "Nanda, I will tell you all, as frankly as I would tell it to myself. First of all, then, you must understand that I am to blame for everything. My pride, my foolishness have S6 BUDDHIST STORIES brought me to this pass, and plunged all three of us into misery. 11 When I saw what a contemner of love this Kosiya was, I thought I would convert him and teach him the might of love. Wretch that I was ! So I began a wicked piece of sport with him who first came under my roof as your friend. The more I saw how cold he was, the warmer did I become. You must understand, my — Forgive me ! I cannot any longer so address you ! You must understand that very soon I no longer sought to convince him through reasoning, but only through myself, just as if that were my highest duty, when, in fact, there was no higher duty for me, but to be devoted wholly to thee in love and esteem. The position of a betrothed is with us what the marriage state is among others. But I thought, ' Oh, it is only a piece of sport, which it lies in my power to give up at any time I choose. Besides, what harm can come of it to me ? What to him? What to thee?' So our foolishness thinks. " When I saw that I was not making any headway, I had recourse to cunning. I feigned illness and denied myself to him. I do not know how I fell into this — I who have always been a friend of straightforward- ness. But surely it must have been my fate, elsQ would the consequences not have been ARCHITECT OF HIS FATE S7 so terrible. I swear to you, however, that up till then I had never been anything but the actress. " One day there was a knock at the door at an unusual hour. The servant was not at home. I opened the door myself. How I started to find Kosiya himself before mc ! I think I grew pale a little with surprise. As I looked at him, I noticed something peculiar in his glance, a sort of glow such as up till then I had never before seen in him. Suddenly I knew that he loved me, and with that the torture in my heart began. For no one can be quite insensible in face of the love of another. Also, I felt the weight of my guilt, and to-day it is incon- ceivable to me, why I did not make clear to myself beforehand all the consequences of my possible victory. There now began in me such a confusion of my feelings as I have never experienced at any other time in my life. Everything in me became vague and doubtful. My feelings towards him were different from those towards other men, but I could not tell whether I loved him, or whether I only thought myself pledged to him on account of my guilt. Heavens, how I speak ! Thou wast indeed still present, but in so monstrous a fashion that I no longer knew even if I loved thee. Thus terribly was I punished for my wicked trifling. 88 BUDDHIST STORIES "So I lived in a state of twilight gloom. O Nanda, what torture ! This struggle for clearness ! And those nights ! When I look back now on those days, I know that I have fully atoned, and if I find any com- fort at this present moment, it is in the thought, * I have atoned/ For, how can one who has done evil find any peace except in expiation ! " I felt that I could now no longer perjure myself. It would have been useless, and would only have made both of us still more distracted. We were now together oftener than ever. I sat there like one justified, and spoke like a fool. He could not help noticing it and taking confusion for love. My inward struggles, on the other hand, only increased my confusion, and hence the possibility of illusion on his part. It seemed to me almost unthinkable, that there should have been a time when I was master, and could decide whether all these perplexities should or should not arise. Oh, if only we paid more heed to the beginnings of things, how powerful, how happy, how peaceful we all might be ! " So I carried on my jest with him, at first designedly, and latterly without design. I say, * jest/ Oh, if it had only been clear to myself at least whether it was jest or earnest ! As surely as I hope one day to be a better ARCHITECT OF HIS FATE 89 woman than I now am, I tested myself until I was utterly exhausted, tested myself with the utmost strictness, but I never attained to clearness in my mind. Nay, it seemed to me as if the more I examined myself, the more confused did everything become. " I saw how he was suffering. I admired him that, in spite of all, he preserved his dignity and good manners, his sense of duty and his love to you. Then, the evening before yesterday, it all broke loose. I tell you this because I know that he himself will tell you. I felt that it must come. We would both have been overcome in the oppressive atmosphere. But when it came, it appeared to me to be so uncalled for, so outrageous, so like a hurricane. I have never in all my life seen a man in such a state of suppressed passion. I shrank ; I was really frightened. Like a rude creature I only screamed out to him, ' Never ! Never ! ' and fled into the house to my mother. 4 'Of the night that followed I cannot write you anything. I can only say that I finally came to a crowning height of pain where I felt, * This is the summit. There is nothing beyond.' I was on the verge of madness. It was like a miracle. Suddenly I felt an irresistible craving for reflection, and at the same moment also I felt in oo BUDDHIST STORIES myself the ability to reflect. And so I began to reflect, and, the more I reflected, the more peaceful I became. And, the more peaceful I became, all the more clearly I beofan to understand. I understood the origin of the relations between Kosiya and myself to lie in my foolishness and heedless- ness. I understood that I did not love him, but only the high thoughts that had a dwelling-place in him. " When I was quite clear about this, I began to reflect, * What, then, is the origin of my love for Nanda?' It is noteworthy that the moment I put this question to myself, I was perfectly clear as to what its consequences would be. I saw in visible form the worm that gnawed at the root of our love. But I remained quite calm. It was a delight to me to go on further, step by step. It was a delight to me to bring clearly before my own eyes the uncertainty, the frailty, the misery of love. It seemed to me as if all at once I enjoyed the fruit of Kosiya's teaching. I was so full of peace that even the thought, ' I am the hateful instrument by which he himself may come at the fruit of the teaching ' had no power to disturb my serenity. " One thing I now know for a surety. No happiness in this world, not even the highest, can outweigh the torments which ARCHITECT OF HIS FATE 91 I have come through during these last few weeks. It is clear to me now that, so long as I love, I am exposed to the possibility of these torments. This bare possibility frightens me. I ask myself, ' How shall I find shelter from this possibility ? ' Judge yourself. Is there any other way but this — wholly and completely to give up love ? Ah, my good friend, I am so sad when I think upon you, but it is to me as if I had thought all love away, as the fire burns away the hedge. More clearly than I ever knew anything before in my life, I now know this. I cannot belong to you any more than to any one else. 1 am resolved to follow the straight road of peace and safety. Before you come back from Madras, both my mother and myself will have entered the cloister. To be sure, my mother says that a life of safety may be led in the house also. But why give chance more food to feed on than is necessary, in order to toy with our frailty ? My mind is firmly made up, and so farewell ! Ah, thou, my beloved, what suffering I have brought thee ! How evilly have I repaid thy trust, thy faithfulness, unworthy that I am ! If only you saw the tears that now roll down my cheeks, surely you would feel, not anger, but compassion ! But do not think that anything whatever can make me weaken in my resolve. I go, 92 BUDDHIST STORIES not out of despair, but only because I have perceived something better than love, a happiness higher far ! " And so farewell ! " Punna." Nanda received these two letters at the same time, and read them in the above order, because he considered that Kosiyas would be the more important and Punnas the pleasanter. When he had finished Punnas letter, he sat for a while as if stupefied, staring straight before him ; then he laughed aloud as people laugh when they are mad, and then with closed fists began to belabour himself with all his strength on breast, face and head. At the same time he shrieked out wildly. " How spendidly you have carried it all out, O Kosiya ! The bride lost ! The friend lost ! And the test of their faithfulness ? How is it with that ? Are they, then, true now ? " He shrieked louder and louder, all the while beating himself more furiously with his fists. He would perhaps have killed himself if he had not fallen down fainting with exhaustion. ARCHITECT OF HIS FATE 93 When he came to himself again, he dragged himself like a sick dog to the place where both the letters lay. Again he began to read them, but at first, like a drunken man, without apprehending their meaning. Then, little by little, things grew clearer to him. Here and there as he perused them, he nodded thoughtfully. When he had read through everything for the third time, he said quietly, " It seems to me that, when man puts questions to Fate, he not only frames the question but also the answer. I put a question to Fate out of pure wanton- ness, out of bravado. Is it not a trick worthy of admiration that, simultaneously with the beginning of the answer, there is present also the necessity of the answer ? And the further the answer proceeds, all the more apparent becomes this necessity. And now this solution ! So does Nature answer. She answers questions by the dissolution of what is questioned, perhaps also by the dissolution of the questioner." Again he began to read. Suddenly he started. 94 BUDDHIST STORIES "How was that, then ? " He took up the other letter and read. Again he nodded thoughtfully. "Something peculiar in his glance; a peculiar gleam was in her eye," he murmured. " So a sudden flaring up has decided the fate of my love, that is, has decided my fate. But if each had only seen in the eye of the other nothing more than a mere reflection, and had taken that for something belonging to the other ? Perhaps, if just at the moment of the opening of the door, a shadow had passed over Punna's or Kosiya's face, or a grain of dust had flown into the eye of one of them, or perhaps if the sun had been in another position — who knows ? Can Punna be right about the frailty and the misery of love ? I will think about it." THE LOVE OF HUMANITY CLOSE to the town of Colombo there lies a village named Mutwalla, in- habited for the most part by fisher- men only, who live in plain mud huts ; of fine-looking buildings there are but few. Hence it was nothing surprising that Revata's house, though certainly no palace, was yet the finest in the village. A neat veranda of dark wood, communicating with a staircase, ran round it on all sides ; and a wide door that stood open all day provided passers-by with a glimpse of its comfortably furnished interior. Revata's wife had died young, and he had scorned to marry again, notwithstanding the two children, a boy and a girl, whom she had left behind. Yet it was not that he had deliberately nursed his life long the wound which the parting from his wife had 96 BUDDHIST STORIES made in his heart, although he had loved her sincerely and had heartily esteemed her ; for, if she had not been beautiful of feature, she had at least been gentle, kind and firm withal. " A peaceable wife is the prettiest wife," Revata's mother had been accustomed to say. " Peaceableness, my son, is like daily bread; outward beauty and wit, however, are like seasoning. Marriage is a lifelong affair. A man in the long run can manage fairly well without seasoning, but he cannot manage without bread. Where there is peaceableness, my son, there is health ; where there is health there is beauty." How true his mother's words had been ! How happily he had passed the few years of his wedded life with the wife of his choice ! Cheerful but not boisterous, nicely but not extravagantly dressed, reserved but not bashful — such his wife had always been. Certainly his pain at her death had been great, but since on his part he had always been a good husband to her, always con- siderate, always kind, entirely devoted to THE LOVE OF HUMANITY 97 her without any kind of reserve, the wound in his heart had healed in the natural course of time. For grief on account of the dead endures lifelong only where one has to say, " Too late ! alas ! too late ! " It endures only where conscience tears off again and ever again the skin that has formed anew upon the wound. And so Revata might well have entered again the state of matrimony but that he began to reflect, " Why should I again take a wife ? " And, while he was reflecting upon mar- riage, marriage passed him by. His friends said, M Get married, Revata ! It is the natural thing." " What an extraordinary way of talking, this ' It is the natural thing ! '" thought Revata. " It is like a screen behind which one may hide anything. It is like a mantle which one may draw over everything. Are we obliged to do a thing just because it is natural ? It is also natural that each man should crush other men to the earth so as to make a roomier road for himself, like the H 98 BUDDHIST STORIES elephant that tramples down the bamboo shoots in his path. We must ask, not what is natural, but what is good. What is 'good/ however — this has been clearly- taught only by the Buddha, the Exalted One, the first among gods and men. ! Good ' is not the doing of this or of that, for, what is called ■ doing good ' here is called ■ doing bad* there. To the thoughtful man there is only one good : renunciation, giving up, letting go. "What impels us to marriage? Sensuality. That, later on, the sensuality departs, and the care of a family invests us with an air of dignity — this certainly is no merit of ours. No one ever married solely that he might participate in the dignity that attaches to the father of a family. It is a good thing to resist sensuality. " So the years passed over the head of the reflective man. His reflectiveness, however, did not prevent him from clinging with the tenderest love to his two children, or from doing everything necessary for their proper upbringing. The boy was called Silananda, THE LOVE OF HUMANITY 99 after his uncle, who was abbot of the neigh- bouring monastery. The girl's name was Amba, which means mango-fruit. She re- ceived her name in the following circum- stances : — Some time before the baby girl was born, it was the time of the year when mangoes are first ripe, and the mother was passionately fond of the fruit. One day a particularly fine mango fell to the ground. A maidservant spied it, and with the inten- tion of giving her mistress a treat, burst into her bedroom (it was about mid-day) with the words : " See, mistress ! Look at this beautiful mango ! ? Contrary to her custom, however, the mistress was asleep. Waking with a start, she jumped up hurriedly from her couch. Very soon after this inci- dent, the child was born, and it received the name of Amba. The boy was born about two years later. At an extremely early age the latter exhibited signs of his father's inquiring, meditative spirit. The girl, on the other hand, seemed to inherit the peaceful serenity ioo BUDDHIST STORIES of her mother. She would sit perfectly still in the shade of the mango tree for hours on end. When her father asked, "What are you doing, my child ? " she would answer, " Father, I am enjoying myself." " With what are you enjoying yourself ? " " With what ? Why, father, I am just enjoying myself." " My daughter, long may you retain such joy ! It is the only kind of joy that leaves no bitter after-taste." The father sent his boy to the leading Buddhist school in Colombo. He did not like Englishmen's schools. " They make streets and railways, and do all sorts of wonderful things which make the country rich, but when all is said and done, they only make us rich in wants, and leave us poor in contentment. The man of under- standing will keep away." His son, it must be said, was of another opinion. The older the boy grew, the more his leaning towards things European showed itself. The meditative character of Buddhism — the meditation that teaches the dissolution of one's self in one's self, THE LOVE OF HUMANITY 101 went against his nature. The exact sciences were his delight ; expertness therein his admiration. When he had completed his studies at the Buddhist school at Colombo, he asked his father to send him to the High School at Calcutta. Nothing could have been more distasteful to the father than this. He would very much rather have seen his son enter the Order of the Buddha, and apply his abilities in that direction, but he did not consider him- self justified in disappointing a wish, in itself quite proper, and which his means amply permitted him to gratify. More than any other people, Buddhists regard their children merely as goods lent. So he gave his child the necessary equipment, and the lad sailed gaily away for Calcutta. The youth was absent for four years. One day his father received a letter to the effect that the curriculum was drawing to a close, but that he considered it necessary, before returning home, to inform his father that he had been converted to Christianity. 102 BUDDHIST STORIES He begged him to send a reply to this before he returned. The father replied — " Beloved son ! It matters little whether a man calls himself Buddhist or Christian or by any other name. It does matter, how- ever, that a man should be contented and at peace with himself. There is nothing better than this. If you think that the god of the Christians offers you more than the word of the Tathagata,* well and good ! I do not know this god, and see no necessity for learning to know him ; for, in the Dhamma,f I clearly behold the conclusion of the whole matter. I think, however, that this religion, too, cannot do other than teach men to do good, to speak good and to will good. You cannot yet have so completely forgotten the religion of your childhood's days, as not to know that your deed stands closer to you than aught else in the world. Your deed is the mother's womb that has borne you ; your deeds are the sons whom you beget. In the one thing, ' Be good ! f all religions * The Buddha. t Buddhism. THE LOVE OF HUMANITY 103 agree. To be frank, however, no religion in my opinion shows the way to being good more clearly than does ours. Therefore I am sad and anxious about you, but my love for you remains unchanged." The son read this letter, not without mingled emotions. When any one goes over to another faith, he is prepared to do battle for his new faith and play the martyr. Both anticipations were nullified by what Nalanda called his father's indifference. His father made it all unexpectedly easy for him. When his term expired, he returned home provided with letters to the clergy of the place. In Calcutta the idea had been im- pressed upon him that the noblest of all tasks was to work for the progress and eleva- tion of the people, that the Indian people more than any other stood in need of this elevation, and that among them the task was simpler than elsewhere, since here, with the extension of Christianity, everything, or at least the greater part of the rough work, was already done. Such ideas are the glittering net in which youthful minds are caught. 104 BUDDHIST STORIES Silananda had now lived for about a year in his father s house, and all his efforts were directed only to one end, he burned for one thing only — the elevation of his people, their diversion into the path of true culture, of progress, humanity, Christianity. Since his mind was completely filled with these thoughts, it was only natural that, every time it encountered a resisting object, something of its contents overflowed, and that little by little, despite his father's striking tolerance, a coolness sprang up between them. Revata disapproved of his son's activity. Religion to him was the highest good, but the highest good to him was something which a man should guard like a precious jewel, not put on exhibition at every street corner. And the highest religion to him was that religion which teaches one to treat the con- victions of others with consideration and in a respectful spirit. Hence the Christian mission, which in its zeal swept over the old like some coarse broom, was in his eyes a despicable thing, and his son's activity on behalf of this mission an abomination. But THE LOVE OF HUMANITY 105 he contained himself in patience with the thought, " His deed has nothing to do with me ; it concerns himself more than any one." One day towards sunset the two men were sitting on the veranda in front of the house in comfortable long chairs ; the old man, a powerful-looking form just a trifle inclined to corpulence, the strong face framed in a short grey beard ; the son, slim, neatly built, with big, living eyes. In accordance with Sinhalese custom the old man wore only a loin cloth, and on his bare feet, heavy leather sandals. The upper half of his body was entirely nude, and his head, with its closely cropped hair, uncovered. The son was dressed after the European fashion in a suit of light flannels, with immaculate linen and shoes to match. The old man sat in thoughtful mood, occupied only with chewing betel. The young man, on his part, was busily engaged in studying a London paper which the Rev. Mr. Stevenson had given him earlier in the day. 106 BUDDHIST STORIES He read the journal through from the first to the last word. Not only did the scientific, political and industrial news interest him ; even the advertisements did not remain un- read. Many of them told of such wonderful things, awakened in him such unaccustomed imaginings. Why ! What a country that must be ! How infinitely advanced in culture ! Could his Ceylon, his Sinhalese fellow countrymen, ever be raised to such a height ? It seemed to him as if he must jump up and act; do something, no matter what. His glance fell upon the lowered eyes of his father sitting there chewing betel, and, passing thence through the crown of the coco-nut palms which swayed majestically in the monsoon wind, rested upon the sea with its great snow-white surges. He appeared to have no eyes for the beauty, the sweet restfulness of his surroundings. The sun was on the point of disappearing there, far away over the sea. The evening sky glowed with unwonted splendour, until the mass of glowing colour extended high up into the zenith. Like a bath of coolness the sea wind THE LOVE OF HUMANITY 107 passed over the limbs. Flowers exhaled their odour all around. Pretty little children were playing on the streets. Little things with nothing on but a string tied round their loins crawled about in the 'sand. In the middle of the road a brown little fellow sat in a wash-tub, and, under the supervision of his father who squatted on his heels in front of him, with comical gravity poured floods of water over his streaming little head. Laugh- ing women went to the well with their water- pots, and men stood about the beach working over their nets and chatting the while. For some time Silananda looked into the distance, then, as if bored, his eyes turned back to the paper. He had already reached the last page of this many-sided monster. He now read — " Cut and combed hair bought by Madame X. . . ." Those white people ! How striking ! What a perspective ! And further on he read — 11 A high-minded, well-educated lady, young in years, desires to enter into 108 BUDDHIST STORIES correspondence with an equally high-minded and well-educated gentleman, with a view eventually to marriage in order to escape melancholy." He read this a second and a third time, and then fell to reflecting. Naturally of keen understanding and far superior in education and learning to the average European, he lost the faculty of criticism when confronted by this new world. He did not clearly comprehend this " to escape melancholy ; " he was still too whole and healthy ; but it met him like the piquant odour of some unknown dish, and marvelling much, he thought — " What a world ! What a life for a woman ! It would be worth while, united with such a woman, to work by her side, to endeavour to help to ameliorate things." Again he fell to reflecting. Turning sud- denly to his father, he began — "When I was on my way back from Calcutta, at Tanjore railway station, a sort of peasant came in, carrying nothing but his stick, and behind him came his wife, quite THE LOVE OF HUMANITY 109 young, carrying on her hips a baby, and on her back the whole of the family travelling baggage as high as a tower. I tell you, father, as she came into the shadow of the hall, the poor woman was nearly dropping, yet she fondled the child, and without hesita- tion offered it to suck of her dried- up breast. The man stood by as if it were all none of his business. It was revolting. I went over to him and said in Tamil, 'The poor woman is very tired.' He didn't answer me. I went on, ■ You mustn't burden your wife so much.' Then he replied calmly, ' It is her business ! ' At that I lost patience and I shouted at him, * Man ! brute ! Is that the way to treat one's wife ? ' " The elder man had listened to all this with composure. He had been annoyed, as he always was, when his son had begun to read the journal. The daily press in his eyes was the most pernicious of poisons, and most offensive in itself. He now interrupted his son with the question — " Are you quite sure that it was his wife ? " no BUDDHIST STORIES " Why, father ! Who else could she have been ? Besides, it certainly made no differ- ence in this case whether she was his wife or simply a woman." "You are quite right. But in what way did you make matters better ? " " Make matters better ? What do you mean ? I did my duty ! " " Do you really mean to say that you consider it your duty to call a stranger, a brute?" The son got up hastily from his comfortable chair. " Father, is it quite impossible to talk to you about such matters ? Do you not see " " All right, all right, my son ! " broke in Revata. tf My question was merely a rather unfortunate joke. But, all jesting aside, I want to ask you quietly if you think that, by your interference in this affair, as to the upshot of which I am not in the least curious " Here the son interrupted him. " I will tell you the ending. This brute in human THE LOVE OF HUMANITY in shape gave the poor woman a push and drove her to the other end of the hall. Revolting, I say ! The authorities ought to have interfered." " The authorities are the guardians of the State ; they are not the guardians of morality. " " Cattle are treated with more mercy than human beings. ,, "My child, men are treated most mer- cilessly of all by themselves. Grow older, and you will understand that. But once more, I would seriously ask you, ■ Do you think you did any kind of good to any one whatsoever by your interference in this affair?'" Silananda hesitated. The elder man went on. "You interfered in order to teach the man; you only succeeded in making him obstinate. Further, you interfered in order to help the woman ; instead of help she received cuffs and blows. You were the third party in the affair ; your heart was roused to vexation and anger. In other H2 BUDDHIST STORIES words, you hurt yourself, and you called * Brute ! ' a man, who certainly acted with- out evil intent, and merely lacked better teaching. But, worst of all, you caused him to pass from unintentional to intentional harshness. Certainly the whole business had only one result — you offended your fellow man/' Silananda laughed scornfully. "So the other man did quite a meritorious action when he thumped the poor woman in the ribs?" " Son ! I ask you in all earnestness, 1 What have you to do with others ? ' See to yourself! Struggle for yourself! You have made a mistake. In what way does it help you that another has made a greater ? When you are hungry, does it appease your hunger to learn that another is still more hungry than you ? If only people wouldn't be so ready to forget their own weal with thinking of the weal of others ! The world as a whole would be far better off ! " " And now, father, I must tell you also, in all earnestness, that my faith teaches me that THE LOVE OF HUMANITY 113 the supreme duty is to do good to others, to sacrifice one's self for others, to forget one's self in thinking of others. Love is the greatest of all things." " Son ! In the fabric of the world there is nothing so dangerous, so two-edged, so liable to misuse, as that same word, Move/ Woe to the religion that is founded upon love! It rests upon a quicksand; it builds upon a rainbow. Love is a thing like the plantain stalk, which looks as if one might carve a stout staff or crutch out of it. When, however, you start upon your task, you find nothing but a rolled-up sheath, and your labour comes to naught. You get nothing for your labour but your labour. " " Do you then know of a tree that can provide a better staff or crutch ? " " Knowledge, my son ! Not that know- ledge, however, which is so termed by the world, but the knowlege which the Buddha has taught us : that all things are transient, that all things are painful, that all things are soulless. That penetrates to our innermost ; that gives strength and support." U4 BUDDHIST STORIES " I am very well acquainted with these formulas, but they have always appeared to me to be a poor guide for the world." " Because you only learned them ; never lived them ! V " Now, father, if everybody were to think like you Buddhists, if everybody were to care only for himself, what would become of the world ? How would it ever make pro- gress ? Our very highest duty is to contri- bute our share towards the upward tendency, the evolutionary movement which we find in the world to-day." The old man spat out his betel hastily. * Do you really think so ? I consider that the highest duty of every one is to see that the world advances in virtue and moral knowledge. If any one thinks to attain this by taking care for the world — well and good ! Let him try ! I should have thought, how- ever, that, when one aims at an unknown goal, he ought to take the sure road. The sure road begins at the personal /. Let each man start there, and he will make the world better. Let each man take care to THE LOVE OF HUMANITY 115 be good, and in so doing he will best take care for the world." The son contented himself with a some- what contemptuous smile. The elder man proceeded — " I see well in what a net you have been caught. Here, the further one presses for- ward, the more completely does one become involved. Here yielding alone leads to victory. Do you really believe that there is such a thing as a continuous development of the world ? You all take your shop- keeping tricks and technical juggling for development, and never think that true development does not lie outwards in the distance, but is an entirely inward affair. The heights of true development are to be found in the Buddha-thought. Than the knowledge which leads to the loftiest morality, and in thought to the annulment of self — than this, there is nothing loftier." "If everybody looked upon it as loftiest to annul himself by thought, it would be a poor look-out for the world." " Your foolishness betrays itself. Rather n6 BUDDHIST STORIES we should have that age of gold of which the ancients fable. But don't distress your- self. They are but few who regard it as the loftiest to turn the searchlight of their thought inwards, and, in the accumulated illumination of the resulting cognition, to learn to know themselves. So that every- thing will continue to go splendidly, at least so far as that world about which you are so anxious is concerned." " Then you think that in no way can one be of greater service to the world than by taking heed to ones own excellence ? " " One's own excellence is not a thing over which to take a comfortable nap. One's own excellence is a thing for which one must persistently struggle and fight, and when once a man really asks himself, * How stands it with me ? ' and has really found out, 4 It stands but ill/ and earnestly labours for betterment, then he must wrestle till the perspiration breaks from every pore in his body, like one endeavouring to extricate himself from a creeper-grown morass. And as such a one will look neither to the right THE LOVE OF HUMANITY 117 nor to the left, but only to his own deliver- ance, so also will you look neither to right nor to left, once you too have recognised, 4 So stands it with me ! ' and the question, ( What will become of the world ? ' will seem to you, of all questions, the idlest/' c< Never, father ! Activity in the service of humanity will always be to me the highest duty and the highest reward. Per- haps events will yet convince you that my manner of looking at things is superior to your passivity, by which, ultimately, every- thing is left just as it is ; to mere stagnation." " You are still young, my son." At this moment Silananda's sister appeared outside. " Father, there is a man "out here. He wants a subscription for the Mission.'' " Give him something. You know quite well." The girl disappeared. Silananda stood reflecting for a moment. There came over him something like admiration for his father, because he adhered with such inflexible con- sistency to the precept that enjoins giving. u8 BUDDHIST STORIES The next moment, however, he experienced something very much like annoyance at his own admiration. " So that is how it is with your giving, father ! You give, although in your heart you are opposed to the Mission and its work. You give, only that you may not fail to carry out the Buddha's precept. You give without love, and yet it is love alone that imparts value to any gift." "You are hard on your father," replied the old man. He read his son's heart. " I give according to my means, because I have been taught to give. You are quite right ; I gave just now without love ; merely in order to do a meritorious deed, to do a good turn to myself; for giving is the easiest way to acquire merit. When, in proportion to my means, I so give, it does not concern me to whom or for what I give. If you really believe that love is the most important thing in giving, then you will only give for things which in your opinion are good. But where are we to find the standard test of what is good and what is evil ? How can you know THE LOVE OF HUMANITY 119 that you are not doing merely apparent good, or perhaps supporting an evil thing ; or if, in giving to one man, you are not neglecting a more deserving man, or one in greater need of assistance ; perhaps even letting him perish ? So soon as you depart from the /, you are like a ship at sea without a compass." He paused for a moment and resumed. " To be sure, I am not exactly in love with the Mission, but that is only because I have not yet reached that height to which the Exalted One points the way. Had I reached that eminence, it would be impos- sible for me to cherish an unloving thought towards anything whatsoever in the world." " But not a loving thought either." " You are hard on your father," said the old man once more, but this time without smiling. The son preserved an oppressed silence, and in a little while departed with the un- comfortable sensation of having wounded the father who had always manifested toward him the utmost care and love. His way led to the Rev. Mr. Stevenson's, 120 BUDDHIST STORIES who had invited him to call and see him in the evening. About this time several important matters were on foot at the Mission. Only a short time before, a sort of colony of Christian converts had been established in the Kelani district, so as to withdraw them more effec- tively from old influences. Hitherto these people had lived in their huts and had only been visited by missionaries from Colombo. Mr. Cook, a rich merchant in the suburb of Colpetty, had promised a certain sum to be spent in the erecting a building in the Euro- pean style, thus giving the whole affair the character of an institution, and Mr. Stevenson, the president of the Mission, had selected Silananda to be the leader of this particular project. When the young Sinhalese arrived at the house, he was shown into the room where all the missionaries were assembled. " My young friend/' said Stevenson, ad- dressing him, u we have unanimously agreed to select you as the head of the Kelani project. Are you prepared to take it up ? " THE LOVE OF HUMANITY 121 " You know, reverend sir, that I am ready now and always to place all my energies at your service in this matter. I am burning with zeal." " I know, I know," answered Stevenson. "To be quite frank, however, I must call your attention to the fact that we are scarcely prepared to give you any salary, at least to begin with." " Upon my word," interrupted Silananda, " I would not have taken a salary had you offered it." " Excellent, my young friend ! But you have already heard that Mr. Cook proposes to expend a certain sum. A suitable house will be built, and something done for the poor who are denied all education. You see, there opens before you here a field of work, which under God's blessing will abundantly and more than abundantly repay all your efforts." Silananda was silent with his tongue, but his answer gleamed from his eyes. " At first," went on Stevenson, " you will travel out to the place every day and 122 BUDDHIST STORIES superintend affairs, teaching and exhorting. So soon as the house is all ready, you will take up your permanent residence there, so as to come into closer touch with your pupils. And so I bid you heartily welcome as our fellow labourer in the Lord's vineyard, and pray that God's richest blessing may descend upon our, and more especially upon your, labours." He stretched out a welcoming hand to the young man, who seized it with the deepest emotion. Mr. Ross, the secretary, a small, lean gentleman, now began. " You must not think, young man — that is to say, I mean — we were not entirely unanimous with regard to you. Several other names were considered, that is to say, to be exact, one — the church-officer, Clark, who possesses the great recommendation of being a white man." Stevenson grew uncomfortable. Silananda sat with his hands on his knees, feeling rather awkward, like a boy on certificate-giving day. " That is to say," said Ross, after a glance THE LOVE OF HUMANITY 123 over at Stevenson, " not as if I meant to say that the colour of one's skin makes any real difference ; on the contrary, your knowledge of the Sinhalese language and of Sinhalese ways and so forth is in your favour/' " As I have already told you, Clark drinks and is quite uneducated," Stevenson coldly interrupted. " Quite so ! No doubt he is open to some censure as regards that particular matter. That, in fact, was why we passed him over. But, er . . . you know your father " He hesitated a little. " My father is a man of honour." " Certainly, certainly ! Your father is a man of honour. No one doubts it. But you yourself know better than any one how much opposed he is to our work." " I am old enough to be able to stand up for my own opinions." "That is what we hoped, young man. It was for that reason that we resolved to entrust this more than usually responsible post to you. But to come at once to busi- ness. How old are you ? " I2 4 BUDDHIST STORIES "Twenty-five." Ross noted it down. " Born, where ? " " Mutwalla." " Father and mother Sinhalese ? " " Yes," answered Silananda, somewhat sur- prised. u Where were you educated ? " " But you all know this ! " " It is only in compliance with regulations, because we must send in a report about you," said Stevenson, with a rather forced smile. "Your education, then?" Ross asked again, dipping his pen. " At first at Ananda College in Colombo ; afterwards at the High School at Calcutta." " Thank you ! As soon as possible you will receive your formal letter of appointment. You are quite agreed, then, to work without any salary ? " " I have just said so." "Good! Good!" Mr. Ross shut his minute-book. " Gentlemen ! " Mr. Stevenson now said in a loud voice, " I think we may now declare THE LOVE OF HUMANITY 125 our sitting at an end," and, turning in a friendly way to Silananda, he said, " May I ask you to be my guest for this evening ? " Silananda looked his thanks. The gentlemen all shook hands with one another and departed. When they had all gone, Stevenson turned to Silananda — " Excuse me leaving you by yourself for a minute or so," and disappeared into the neighbouring room. He had invited Silananda to be his guest this evening, solely because his kindly nature impelled him to make up as far as possible for the tactless behaviour of Mr. Ross. Stevenson was a widower and had but one child, a daughter. It was only the previous day that the latter had arrived in Colombo by a German steamer, after a five years' stay in Europe. Stevenson did not exactly know what his daughter's views were with regard to race distinctions, and it only just now occurred to him that it might perhaps be a case of "out of the frying-pan into the fire," with h\s protege. So he thought it advisable to give his daughter a few hints beforehand. 126 BUDDHIST STORIES Silananda might, perhaps, have been pacing up and down the minister's study for two or three minutes, when the minister himself reappeared and beckoned him into the sitting-room. Here, Henrietta Stevenson came towards him with a friendly smile, holding out her hand to him, and all three took their places at the tea-table which was already laid out. Stevenson's daughter was too thin and her features too irregular for her to be called beautiful, but when she spoke or smiled, one saw nothing but the grey, expressive eyes, and the sweet curve of the mouth. The abundant, dark brown hair seemed only with difficulty to find room for itself on the well- shaped head, and looked to be almost too heavy for that slim, delicate neck to support. "So you are Mr. Silananda. My father has told me what an unselfish warrior you are in the good cause. I am so glad to make your acquaintance. You see, I also have come here with the firm resolve to devote my whole life to this work. So I hope we shall in future work together." THE LOVE OF HUMANITY 127 Silananda was not quite ready with a suitable reply to this speech. The young lady proceeded rapidly — " You have left Buddhism behind and have come over to Christianity. What a resolution ! Especially since, in your case, no considerations of speedier promotion in the service of the State have entered into the matter. Any one who goes in quest of a new religion out of an inward necessity seems to me to be like one who lives his life twice over. It is magnificent! The moment when it is at last found must be divine !" Silananda still kept silence. He felt almost oppressed by her words. " You see," she went on, " I, too, have made investigations into all kinds of religions. Not that I have doubted our own religion or failed to find satisfaction in it. But it is the heart's travel-hunger, as it were, and the fatherland never seems more beautiful than when one returns to it from abroad. My fatherland is the word of our God, and at the end of all my religious pilgrimages I 128 BUDDHIST STORIES have returned to its bosom with a delight that has only been increased." 14 Are not these somewhat daring, perhaps also unnecessary, experiments, Henrietta ? " her father interposed. It could not be said that he had a weakness for studying the religions of other peoples. " No, father ! My faith is a natural, inborn thing that cannot be shaken by anything. My faith is so deep, that I am even prepared to appreciate the peculiar merits of other religions. For example, there is this Buddhism," she went on, again turning towards Silananda, " for one thing, the religion which, as an object of study, is surely the most interesting of them all." " How so ?" The two words came from him with shameful lightness. The inter- ruption, however, appeared to her to be quite appropriate. " How so ? " she said with animation. "Why, because it is the only one of all the religions in the world which completely dis- misses every idea of God, and which there- fore is to be mastered purely with the THE LOVE OF HUMANITY 129 understanding, through knowledge, without the co-operation of faith. There is something of the greatness, but also something of the coldness, of mathematics about this system." " But Buddhism has hosts of gods." " Yes, that is so, but they are only like so many supernumeraries upon the stage. The real hero of the drama is Kamma* and Kamma, ultimately, is nothing but an idea which pertains to natural science put into a moral-religious form." " Which idea do you mean ? " " I mean the idea of action and reaction. Every deed inevitably brings in its train its due consequence, as each stroke of the piston-rod inevitably produces the counter- stroke ; as the body is always accompanied by its shadow. And just as the deed is, so also is the result. Hence, don't look to the right, don't look to the left ! Look only at yourself and your deed. That is the morality of Buddhism in its entirety. It must be fright- ful to know one's self under such an iron rod. And just look at what follows ! What * Actions, both physical and mental. K 130 BUDDHIST STORIES frightful egoism ! You must only never lose sight of the precious * I'J But, as I have just said, the great thing in favour of this religion is that, without making use of faith, it leads its adherents to a definite conclusion. One cannot be taught to believe ; one must be born with the capacity for it already present in one. Buddhism is the religion of the void of faith. Every inquiring, not indifferent, doubter is a born Buddhist/' " The Buddha's religion is the religion of all those for whom life is sorrow." " That is the same thing, Mr. Silananda. Wherever there is no belief in God, one's whole life is an entirely aimless thing ; some- thing that had better not have been, therefore a painful thing." " How deeply you have thought over these matters ! Looking at things from this stand- point, do you consider the natural sphere of Buddhism to be an extensive one ? I mean, do you consider that the percentage of un- believing men in the world is a large one ? " " God be thanked, no ! Else, what would be the use of our Mission in Asia ? I believe THE LOVE OF HUMANITY 131 that every mentally healthy person possesses tendencies towards faith, and that these ten- dencies only need to be directed into the right channels. No amount of instruction, no Mission, can make a man of faith out of a man void of faith. Conversion means no more than to change or modify faith." She saw the admiration that spoke from his eyes. Flattered and roused, she went on with renewed vivacity — "Just as a cork, no matter how deeply one pushes it down into the water, always comes up again, so a man void of faith, no matter how deeply he may be dipped in Christianity, will always be drawn back again into the sphere of Buddhism, and re-converted," she added, with conviction. Dazzled, he did not immediately compre- hend. Only, by her slight inclination in his direction, he knew that the last words con- tained something that applied particularly to himself. Thus, one endowed with faith, however deeply he might dive into Buddhism, would still, by reason of his faith, always be forced 132 BUDDHIST STORIES out again, like the cork out of the water. Astonishing! He, for his part, had never represented to himself this peculiarity of the religion of his fathers in such clearly formu- lated fashion. Had this, then, been the effective cause of his own conversion ? Was it this faculty of faith that had driven him out of Buddhism and into Christianity ? Did he at all possess this natural faith ? He had never yet tried to make all this clear to himself. " You don't appear to agree with me quite," she again began. " It may be that I have misunderstood. Perhaps I shall have the opportunity of asking you many questions about these things ; for some points are not yet quite clear to me."