Chapter XVIII: Section III: Gautama Buddha.15

SUBDIVISION 1. _The Historical Buddha._

Were we to write the history of the Buddha according to the fashion of Buddhist historians, we should have to begin our story several ages before his birth. For the theory of his disciples is, that during many millions of years, through an almost innumerable series of different lives, he had been preparing himself for the great office of the savior of humanity which he at length assumed. Only by the practice of incredible self-denial, and unbounded virtue, during all the long line of human births he was destined to undergo, could he become fitted for that consummate duty, the performance of which at last released him forever from the bonds of existence. For the total extinction of conscious life, not its continuation in a better sphere, is, or at any rate was, the goal of the pious Buddhist. And it was the crowning merit of the Buddha, that he not only sought this reward for himself, but qualified himself by ages of endurance to enlighten others as to the way in which it might be earned.

But we will not encumber ourselves with the pre-historic Buddha, the tales of whose deeds are palpable fictions, but will endeavor to unravel the thread of genuine fact which probably runs through the accepted life of Sakyamuni in his final appearance upon earth. And here we are met with a preliminary difficulty. That life is not guaranteed by any trustworthy authority. It cannot be traced back to any known disciple of Buddha. It cannot be shown to have been written within a century after his death, and it may have been written later. Ancient, however, it undoubtedly is. For the separation of northern from southern Buddhism occurred at an early period in the history of the Church, probably about two hundred years after the death of its founder; and this life is the common property of all sections of Buddhists. It was consequently current before that separation. But its antiquity does not make it trustworthy. On the contrary, it is constructed in accordance with an evident design. Every incident has a definite dogmatic value, and stands in well-marked dogmatic relations to the rest. There is nothing natural or spontaneous about them. Everything has its proper place, and its distinct purpose. And it is useless to attempt to deal with such a life on the rationalistic plan of sifting the historical from the fabulous; the natural and possible from the miraculous and impossible elements. The close intermixture of the two renders any such process hopeless. We are, in fact, with regard to the life of Gautama Buddha, much in the position that we should be in with regard to the life of Jesus Christ, had we no records to consult but the apocryphal gospels.

Nevertheless, while holding that his biography can never now be written, it is by no means my intention to imply that it is impossible to know anything about him. On the contrary, a picture not wholly imaginary may unquestionably be drawn of the character and doctrines of the great teacher of the Asiatic continent. Let us venture on the attempt.

An imposing array of scholars agrees in fixing the date of his death in B.C. 543, and as he is said to have lived eighty years, he would thus have been born in B.C. 623. Without entering now into the grounds of their inference, I venture to believe that they have thrown him back to a too distant date. I am more inclined to agree with Köppen, who would place his death from B.C. 480 to 460, or about two centuries before the accession of the great Buddhist king Asoka. Westergaard, it is true, would fix this event much later, namely about B.C. 370. Supposing the former writer to be correct in his conclusions, the active portion of the Buddha's life would fall to the earlier years of the fifth century B.C., and possibly to the conclusion of the sixth. His birth, about B.C. 560-540, occurred in a small kingdom of the north of India, entitled Kapilavastu. Of what rank his parents may have been, the accounts before us do not enable us to say. The tradition according to which they were the king and queen of the country, I regard with Wassiljew as in all probability an invention intended to shed additional glory upon him. The boy is said to have been named Siddhartha, though possibly this also was one of the many titles bestowed on him by subsequent piety. At an early age he felt—as so many young men of lofty character have always done—the hollowness of worldly pleasures, and withdrew himself from men to lead a solitary and ascetic life. After he had satisfied the craving for self-torture, and subdued the lusts of the flesh, he came forth, full of zeal for the redemption of mankind, to proclaim a new and startling gospel. India was at that time, as always, dominated by the system of caste. The Buddha, boldly breaking through the deepest prejudices of his countrymen, surrounded himself with a society in which caste was nothing. Let but a man or even a woman (for it is stated that at his sister's request he admitted women) become his disciple, agree to renounce the world, and lead the life of an ascetic, and he or she at once lost either the privileges of a high caste, or the degradations of a low one. Rank depended henceforth exclusively upon capacity for the reception of spiritual truth; and the humblest individual might, by attending to and practicing the teacher's lessons, rise to the highest places in the hierarchy. "Since the doctrine which I teach," he is represented as saying in one of the Canonical Books, "is completely pure, it makes no distinction between noble and commoner, between rich and poor. It is, for example, like water, which washes both noblemen and common people, both rich and poor, both good and bad, and purifies all without distinction. It may, to take another illustration, be compared to fire, which consumes mountains, rocks, and all great and small objects between heaven and earth without distinction. Again, my doctrine is like heaven, inasmuch as there is room within it, without exception, for whomsoever it may be; for men and women, for boys and girls, for rich and poor" (W. u. T., p. 282). This was the practical side of Sakyamuni's great reform. Its theoretical side was this. Life was regarded by Indian devotees, not as a blessing, but as an unspeakable misery. Deliverance from existence altogether, not merely transposition to a happier mode of existence, was the object of their ardent longing. The Buddha did not seek to oppose this craving for annihilation, but to satisfy it. He addressed himself to the problem, How is pain produced, and how can it be extinguished? And his meditations led him to what are termed "the four truths"—the cardinal dogma of Buddhism in all its forms. The four truths are stated as follows:—

1. The existence of pain.
2. The production of pain.
3. The annihilation of pain.
4. The way to the annihilation of pain.

The meaning of the truths is this:—Pain exists; that is, all living beings are subject to it; its production is the result of the existence of such beings; its annihilation is possible; and lastly, the way to attain that annihilation is to enter on the paths opened to mankind by Gautama Buddha. In other words, the way to avoid that awful series of succeeding births to which the Indian believed himself subject, was to adopt the monastic life; to practice all virtues, more especially charity; to acquire a profound knowledge of spiritual truths; and, in fine, to follow the teaching of the Buddha. Renounce the world, and you will—sooner or later, according to your degree of merit—be freed from the curse of existence; this seems to sum up, in brief, the gospel proclaimed with all the fervor of a great discovery by the new teacher. After about forty-five years of public life devoted to mankind, he died at the age of eighty, at Kusinagara, deeply mourned by a few faithful disciples who had clustered around him, and no doubt regretted by many who had found repose and comfort in his doctrines, and had been strengthened by his example. The names of his principal disciples become almost as familiar to a reader of Buddhist books as those of Peter, James, and John, to a Christian. Maudgalyâyana and Sariputtra, the eminent evangelists, and Ananda, the beloved disciple, the close friend and servant of the Buddha, are among the most prominent of this little group. With them rested propagation of the faith, and the vast results, which in two centuries followed their exertions, prove that they were not remiss. The stories of the thousands who embraced the proffered salvation in the life-time of the Buddha are pious fancies. It was the apostles and Fathers of the Church who, while developing his doctrines and largely adding to their complexity and number, almost succeeded in rendering his religion the dominant creed of India.

Such is, in my opinion, the sum total of our positive knowledge with regard to the life lived, and the truths taught, by this great figure in human history. The two points to which I have adverted—namely, the formation of a society apart from the world in which caste was nothing, and the hope held out of annihilation by the practice of virtues and asceticism—are too fundamental and too ancient to be derived from any but the founder. After all, ecclesiastical biographers, while they adorn their heroes with fictitious trappings, do not invent them altogether. A man from whose tuition great results have flowed, cannot be a small man; something of those results must needs be due to the impulse he has given. And if the Buddha must have taught something, must have inaugurated some reform, what is he more likely to have taught, than the way to the annihilation of pain? what reform more likely to have inaugurated than the creation of a society held together by purely spiritual ties? Both are absolutely essential to Buddhism as we know it. Both are closely connected. For Buddhism would have had nothing to offer without the hope of extinction; and this hope, while leading to the practice of an austere and religious life, can itself be fulfilled only by that life; implying as it does a detachment from the bonds of carnality which hold us to this scene of suffering. Thus, these corner-stones of Buddhism—flowing as they must have done from a master-mind—may, with the highest probability, be assigned to its author.

On one other point there is no reason to call in question the testimony of the legend. We need not doubt he really was the pure, gentle, benevolent, and blameless man which that legend depicts him to have been. Even his enemies have not attempted (I believe) to malign his character. He stands before us as one of the few great leaders of humanity who seem endowed with every virtue, and free from every fault.

SUBDIVISION 2. _The Mythical Buddha._

Buddhistic authorities divide the life of their founder into twelve great periods, under which it will be convenient to treat of it:—

1. His descent from heaven.
2. His incarnation.
3. His birth.
4. His display of various accomplishments.
5. His marriage, and enjoyment of domestic life.
6. His departure from home, and assumption of the monastic character.
7. His penances.
8. His triumph over the devil.
9. His attainment of the Buddhaship.
10. His turning the Wheel of the Law.
11. His death.
12. His cremation, and the division of his relics.

1. Following, then, the guidance of the accepted legend, we must begin with his resolution to be born on earth for the salvation of the world. After thousands of preparatory births, he was residing in a certain heaven called Tushita, that being one of the numerous stages in the ascending series of the abodes of the blessed. At length, the end of his sojourn in this heaven arrived. He determined to quit the gods who were his companions there, and to be born on earth. Careful consideration convinced him that the monarch Suddhodana, and his queen, Maya Devi, alone possessed these preëminent qualifications which entitled them to become the parents of a Buddha. Suddhodana lived in the town of Kapila, and belonged to the royal family of the Sakyas, the only family which the Bodhisattva (or destined Buddha) had discovered by his examination to be free from faults by which it would have been disqualified to receive him as one of its members. His wife, in addition to the most consummate beauty, was distinguished for every conjugal and feminine virtue. Here, then, was a couple worthy of the honor about to be conferred upon their house.

2. At this critical moment Maya had demanded, and obtained, the permission of the king to devote herself for a season to the practice of fasting and penance. While engaged in these austerities, she dreamt that a beautiful white elephant approached her, penetrated her side, and entered her womb. At this very time, Bodhisattva actually descended in the shape of a white elephant, and took up his abode within her body. On waking, she related the dream to her husband, who called upon the official Brahmins to interpret it. They declared it to be of good augury. The queen, they said, carried in her womb a being who would either be a "Wheel King," or Sovereign of the whole world; or if he took to a monastic career, would become a Buddha. All things went well during Maya's pregnancy. According to all accounts she underwent none of the discomforts incidental to that state. One writer states that "her soul enjoyed a perfect calm, the sweetest happiness; fatigue and weariness never affected her unimpaired health." Another remarks that she enjoyed "the most perfect health, and was free from fainting fits." An additional gratification lay in the fact, that she was able to see the infant Bodhisattva sitting calmly in his place within her person.

3. Ten months having passed (a Buddha always takes ten), the queen expressed a desire to walk in a beautiful garden called Lumbini; and, with the king's ready permission, proceeded thither with her attendants. In this garden the hour of her delivery came on. Standing under a tree (the _ficus religiosa_), which courteously lowered its branches that she might hold on by them during labor, she gave birth to the child who was afterwards to be the first of humankind. Gods from heaven received him when born, and he himself at once took several steps forward, and exclaimed: "This is my last birth—there shall be to me no other state of existence: I am the greatest of all beings." Ananda, his cousin, and afterwards his disciple, was born at the same moment. Maya, notwithstanding her excellent health, died seven days after her child's birth. This was not from any physical infirmity, but because it is the invariable rule that the mother of a Buddha should die at that exact time. The reason of this, according to the Lalitavistara, is, that when the Buddha became a wandering monk her heart would break. Other respectable authorities assert, that the womb in which a Bodhisattva has lain is like a sanctuary where a relic is enshrined. "No human being can again occupy it, or use it" (P. A., No. III. p. 27). Maya was born again in one of the celestial regions, and the infant was confided to her sister, his aunt Prajapati, or Gautami, who was assisted in the care of her charge by thirty-two nurses. He was christened Sarvarthasiddha, usually shortened into Siddhartha. He is also known as Gautama Buddha, by which name he is distinguished from other Buddhas: as Sakyamuni, the hermit of the Sakya race; as the Tathâgata, he who walks in the footsteps of his predecessors; as Bhagavat, Lord; and by other honorific titles.

Soon after the birth of the Bodhisattva, he was visited and adored by a very eminent Rishi, or hermit, known as Asita (or Kapiladevila), who predicted his future greatness, but wept at the thought that he himself was too old to see the day when the law of salvation would be taught by the infant whom he had come to contemplate.

4. When the appropriate age for the marriage of the young prince arrived, a wife, possessing all the perfections requisite for so excellent a husband, was sought. She was found in a maiden named Gopa (or Yasodhara), the daughter of Dandapani, one of the Sakya race. An unexpected obstacle, however, arose. The father of the lovely Gopa complained that Siddhartha's education had been grossly neglected, and that he was wanting alike in literary accomplishments and in muscular proficiency—things which were invariably demanded of the husbands of Sakya princesses. It does, indeed, appear that Suddhodana had taken little pains to cultivate his son's abilities, and that he had mainly confined himself to the care of his personal safety by surrounding him with attendants. Accordingly, he asked the prince whether he thought he could exhibit his skill in those branches of knowledge, the mastery of which Dandapani had declared to be a necessary condition of his consent. Siddhartha assured his father that he could; and in a regular competitive examination, which was thereupon held, he completely defeated the other princes, not only in writing, arithmetic, and such matters, but in wrestling and archery. In the last art, especially, he gained a signal victory, by easily wielding a bow which none of the others could manage.

5. Gopa was now won, and conducted by her husband to a magnificent palace, where, surrounded by a vast harem of beautiful women, he spent, some years of his life in the enjoyment of excessive luxury. But worldly pleasure was not to retain him long in its embrace.

6. A crisis in his life was now approaching. Suddhodana had been warned that Siddhartha would assume the ascetic character if four objects were to meet his sight; an old man, a sick man, a corpse, and a recluse. Suddhodana, who would have much preferred his son being a universal monarch to his becoming a Buddha, anxiously endeavored to guard him from coming across these things. But all was in vain. One day, when driving in the town, he perceived a wrinkled, decrepit, and miserable old man. Having inquired of the coachman what this strange creature was, and having learnt from him that he was only suffering the general fate of humanity, the Bodhisattva was much affected; and, full of sad thoughts, ordered his chariot to be turned homewards. Meeting on two other occasions, likewise when driving, with a man emaciated by sickness, and with a corpse, he was led to still further reflections on the wretchedness of the conditions under which we live. Prepared by these meditations, he yielded completely to the tendencies aroused within him when, on a fourth excursion, he came across a monk. The aspect of this man—his calmness, his dignity, his downcast eyes, his decent deportment—filled him with desire to abandon the world like him.

The die was cast. Nothing could now retain the Bodhisattva, at this time a young man of nine-and-twenty, from the course that approved itself to his conscience. In vain did his father cause his palace to be surrounded with guards. In vain did the ladies of the harem (acting under instructions) deploy their most ravishing arts to captivate and to amuse him. His resolution was finally fixed by a singular circumstance. The beautiful damsels who ministered to him had sought to engage his attention by an exhibition of the most graceful dancing, accompanied by music, displaying their forms before his eyes as they executed their varied movements. But the Bodhisattva, deep in his meditations, was wholly unaffected. He fell asleep; and the women, baffled in their attempts and wearied out, soon followed his example. But in the course of the night the prince awoke. And then the sight of these girls, slumbering in all sorts of ungainly and ungraceful postures, utterly disgusted him. Summoning a courtier, named Chandaka, he ordered him at once to prepare his favorite horse Kantaka, that he might quit the city of his fathers, and lead the life of a humble recluse. But before thus abandoning his home, there was one painful parting to be gone through. One tie still held him to the world. His wife had just become a mother. Anxious to see his infant son, Rahula, before his departure, he gently opened the door of his wife's apartment. He found her sleeping with one hand over the head of the child. He would fain have taken a last look at his little boy, but fearing that if he withdrew the mother's hand she would awake and hinder his departure, he retired without approaching the bed. In the dead of night, mounted on Kantaka, and with the one attendant whom he had taken into the secret, he managed to leave Kapilavastu unperceived, never to return to it again till he had attained the full dignity of a Buddha.

7. Having sent back Chandaka with the horse, the Bodhisattva commenced, alone and unaided, a course of austerities fitted to prepare him for his great duty. He tried Brahminical teachers, but was soon dissatisfied with their doctrine. Five of the disciples of one of these teachers followed him for six years in the homeless and wandering life he now began. He adopted the most rigid asceticism, reducing his body to the last degree of feebleness and emaciation. But this too discovered itself to his mind as an error. He took to eating again, and regained his strength, whereupon the five disciples left him, viewing him as a man who had weakly abandoned his principles.

8. After this period of gradual approach to the required perfection the Bodhisattva went to Bodhimanda, the place appointed for his reception of the Buddhaship. Here he had to withstand a furious attack by the demon Mara, who first endeavored to annihilate him by his armies, and then to seduce him by the fascination of his three daughters. But Gautama withstood his male and female adversaries with equal calmness and success. Of the latter he had possibly had enough in his princely palace.

9. All these trials having been surmounted, he placed himself under the Bodhi (or Intelligence) tree, and there, engaging in the most intense meditations, gradually reached the intellectual and moral height towards which he had long been climbing. He was now in possession of Bodhi, or that complete and perfect knowledge which constitutes a Buddha. He was thus fit to teach the law of salvation, but the Lalitavistra represents him as still doubting for a moment whether he should engage in a task which he feared would be thankless and unavailing. Men, he thought, would be incapable of receiving so sublime a doctrine, and he would incur fatigue and make exertions in vain. Silence and solitude recommended themselves at this moment to his spirit. But from a resolution so disastrous he was turned aside by the intercession of the god Brahma.

10. He proceeded accordingly to "turn the Wheel of the Law," or to preach to others, during the forty-five remaining years of his long life, the truths he had arrived at himself. The current lives speak, in their exaggerated manner, of his magnificent receptions by the kings whose countries he visited, and of the thousands of converts whom he made by his preaching, or who, in technical language, obtained Nirvâna through him. His father and other members of his family were among his followers. But among the first-fruits of his teaching were the five Brahmins who had abandoned him when he had relaxed in his ascetic habits. These, on first perceiving him, spoke of him with contempt as a glutton and a luxurious fellow spoilt by softness. But his personal presence filled them with admiration, and they at once acknowledged his perfect wisdom. During this time the two orders of monks and nuns, with their strict regulations enforcing continence and temperance, were founded. Gautama's aunt and nurse, Prajapati, was the first abbess; the Buddha, who had intended to exclude women from his order, having consented to admit them at her request. Rahula, his son, received the tonsure.

11. After he had firmly established his law in the hearts of many devoted disciples, the Buddha "entered Nirvâna" at the age of eighty, at Kusinagara. That his death was deeply mourned by the friends who had hung upon his lips, and drawn their knowledge of religious truth from him, need not be related.

12. A pompous account is given of his funeral rites, of which it will be sufficient to mention here that his body was laid upon a pyre, and burnt after the manner of burning in use for Chakravartins, or Universal Monarchs. The princes of Kusinagara wished to keep his relics to themselves; but seven kings, each of whom demanded a share, made threatening demonstrations against them, and after some quarrelling it was agreed to distribute the relics among the whole number. They were therefore divided into eight portions, the royal family of each country taking one. A dagoba, or monument, was erected over them in each of the capitals governed by these royal Buddhists.

Of the numerous stories that are told with regard to the effects of the Buddha's preaching, of the amazing miracles he is said to have performed, and of the wonders reported to have happened at his death and his cremation, there will be an opportunity of speaking in another place. For the present, it is enough to relate the legend of his life in its main features, according to the version piously believed by the millions of human beings who—in China, Tartary, Mongolia, Siam, Burmah, Thibet, and Ceylon—look to him as their law-giver and their savior.