Chapter IV: Bimbisâra Râga Becomes a Disciple (1)

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

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

The Great Disciple Becomes a Hermit

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

Conversion of the "Supporter of the Orphans and Destitute"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Interview between Father and Son

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

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

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

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