Chapter VII

_Buddha's sermon on the mountain -- Interview of Buddha and King
Pimpathara in the vicinity of the city of Radzagio -- Answer of
Kathaba to Buddha's interrogation -- Instructions delivered to
the king and his attendants -- Solemn entry of Buddha into
Radzagio -- Donation of the Weloowon monastery to Buddha --
Conversion of Thariputra and Maukalan -- The Rahans are keenly
taunted by the people of Radzagio._

Accompanied by his thousand followers, Phra went to the village of Gayathitha. This village stands on the bank of the river Gaia. Close to it, there is a mountain resembling in appearance an elephant's head. On the top of the mountain stands a large rock, wide enough to accommodate Buddha and all his attendants. He ascended the mountain with his disciples, and, having reached its summit, sat down. Summoning all his disciples, he said to them: "Beloved Bickus, all that is to be met with in the three abodes of men, Nats, and Brahmas, is like a burning flame. But why is it so? Because the eyes are a burning flame; the objects perceived by the eyes, the view of those objects, the feeling created by that view, are all like a burning flame. The sensations produced by the eyes cause a succession of pleasant and painful feelings, but these are likewise a burning flame. What are the causes productive of such a burning? It is the fire of concupiscence, of anger, of ignorance, of birth, of death, of old age, and of anxiety. Again, the ear is a burning flame; the sounds, the perception of the sounds, the sensations caused by the sounds, are all a burning flame; the pleasure or pain produced by the sounds are also a burning flame, which is fed by the fire of concupiscence, anger, ignorance, birth, old age, death, anxiety, tears, affliction, and trouble. Again, the sense of smelling is a burning flame; the odours, the perception of odours, the sensations produced by odours, are all a burning flame; the pleasure and pain resulting therefrom are but a burning flame, fed by concupiscence, anger, ignorance, birth, old age, death, disquietude, tears, affliction, and sorrow. Again, the taste is a burning flame; the objects tasted, the perception of those objects, the sensations produced by them, are all a burning flame, kept up by the fire of concupiscence, anger, ignorance, birth, old age, death, anxiety, tears, affliction, and sorrow. Again, the sense of feeling, the objects felt, the perception of those objects, the sensations produced by them, are a burning flame; the pleasure and pain resulting therefrom are but a burning flame, fostered by concupiscence, anger, ignorance, birth, old age, death, anxiety, tears, affliction, and sorrow. Again, the heart is a burning flame, as well as all the objects perceived by it, and the sensations produced in it; the pleasure and pain caused by the heart are too a burning flame, kept up by the fire of concupiscence, anger, ignorance, birth, old age, death, disquietude, tears, affliction, and sorrow. Beloved Bickus, they who understand the doctrine I have preached, and see through it, are full of wisdom and deserve to be called my disciples. They are displeased with the senses, the objects of the senses, matter, pleasure and pain, as well as with all the affections of the heart. They become free from concupiscence, and therefore exempt from passions. They have acquired the true wisdom that leads to perfection; they are delivered at once from the miseries of another birth. Having practised the most excellent works, nothing more remains to be performed by them. They want no more the guidance of the sixteen laws, for they have reached far beyond them."[1]

Having thus spoken, Buddha remained silent. His hearers felt themselves wholly disentangled from the trammels of passion, and disengaged from all affections to material objects, and they who had been but Rahans became Rahandas.

Whilst the most excellent Phra was enjoying himself in the place of Gayathitha, he recollected that, at the time when he was but a Phralaong, being near the mountain Pantawa, he had received from King Pimpathara an invitation to come to his own country and preach the law. Accompanied with his thousand Rahandas, he set out for the country of Radzagio. Having arrived at a small distance from the royal city he went to the Latti grove, about three gawots from Radzagio, a place planted with palm trees. The king, having heard of his arrival, said to his people: "The descendant of a long succession of illustrious princes, the great Rahan Gaudama, has entered into our country, and is now in the grove of palm trees, in the garden of Tandiwana." The happy news was soon re-echoed throughout the country. The people said among themselves: "The great Gaudama is come indeed. He is perfectly acquainted with all that relates to the three states of men, Nats, and Brahmas; he preaches a sublime and lovely law; the morals that he announces are pure, like a shell newly cleansed." Pimpathara, placing himself at the head of 120,000 warriors, surrounded by crowds of nobles and Pounhas, went to the garden of Tandiwana, where Phra was seated in the middle of his disciples. He paid his respects by prostrating himself before him, and then withdrew to a becoming distance. The countless crowd followed the example of their monarch, and seated themselves at a becoming distance. Some of them remained conversing with Buddha, and heard from him words worthy to be ever remembered; some others, having their hands joined to the forehead, remained in a respectful attitude; some were praising his illustrious ancestors; others remained modestly silent. All of them, perceiving the three Kathabas close to the person of Phra, doubted whether Gaudama was their disciple, or they, his disciples. Buddha, seeing at once what thought occupied the mind of the warriors, noblemen, and Pounhas, addressed the elder Kathaba, called Ooroowela Kathaba, and said to him: "Kathaba, you who lived formerly in the solitude of of Ooroowela, answer the question I am now putting to you. You were formerly a teacher of Rathees, who practised works of great mortification, to such an extent that their bodies were emaciated by self-inflicted penances: what has induced you to give up the sacrifices you were wont to make?" "Blessed Buddha," answered Kathaba, "I have observed that exterior objects, the sounds, the taste, the gratification of the senses, are but miserable filth; and, therefore, I take no more delight in the offering of small and great sacrifices." Buddha replied, "Kathaba, if you be no longer pleased with what is beautiful to the eyes, pleasant to the ear, palatable to the taste, and agreeable to the gratification of the senses, in what do you presently find pleasure and delight?" Kathaba answered, "Blessed Buddha, the state of Neibban is a state of rest, but that rest cannot be found as long as we live under the empire of senses and passions. That rest excludes existence, birth, old age, and death; the great mental attainments alone lead thereto. I know and see that happy state. I long for it. I am, therefore, displeased with the making of great and small sacrifices." Having thus spoken, Kathaba rose up, worshipped Buddha by prostrating himself before him, and touching with his forehead the extremities of his feet, and said, "O most excellent Buddha, you are my teacher, and I am your disciple." All the people, seeing what Kathaba had done, knew that he was practising virtue under the direction of Gaudama.[2] Phra, who was acquainted with their innermost thoughts, knew that they were longing to hear the preaching of the law. As he had always done, he began to preach to them the virtue of liberality in almsgiving, and then unfolded before them, with matchless eloquence, the advantages of leaving the world, &c. The hearers felt an inward delight in all that was said to them. Observing the favourable impression made upon them, Gaudama continued to instruct them on the four laws, regarding the miseries of this world, the passions, the practice of excellent works, and the ways to perfection. At the conclusion of these instructions, the king and 100,000 of the assembly, like a piece of white cloth which, when plunged into dye, retains the colour it receives, obtained instantly the state Thautapan.[3] As to the 10,000 remaining hearers, they believed in the three precious things in the capacity of Upathakas.

The ruler of the country of Magataritz, King Pimpathara, having obtained the state of Thautapan, said to Gaudama, "Illustrious Buddha, some years ago, when I was but a crown prince of this country, I entertained five desires, which were all happily accomplished. Here are the five desires--I wished to become king; I desired that the Phra, worthy of receiving the homage of all men, should come into my kingdom; that I might have the privilege of approaching him; that he might preach his doctrine to me; and, finally, that I might thoroughly understand all his preaching. These five wishes have been fully realised. Your law, O most excellent Buddha, is a most perfect law. To what shall I liken it as regards the happy results it produces? It is like replacing on its proper basis a vase that was bottom upwards, or setting to light objects hitherto buried in deep darkness; it is an excellent guide that shows out the right way; it is like a brilliant light, shining forth and dispelling darkness. Now I take refuge in you, your law, and the assembly of the perfect. Henceforth I will be your supporter, and to-morrow I will supply you and your disciples with all that is necessary for the support of nature." Buddha, by his silence, testified his acceptance of the offered favour. Whereupon the king rose up, prostrated himself before him, and, turning on the right, left the place, and returned to his palace.

Early in the morning Pimpathara ordered all sorts of eatables to be prepared. Meanwhile he sent messengers to Buddha to inform him that his meal was ready. Buddha, rising up, put on his dress, and, carrying his patta, set out for Radzagio, followed by his one thousand disciples. At that time a prince of Thagias, assuming the appearance of a handsome young man, walked a little distance in front of Buddha, singing to his praise several stanzas. "Behold the most excellent is advancing towards Radzagio with his one thousand disciples. In his soul he is full of meekness and amiability; he is exempt from all passions; his face is beautiful, and shines forth like the star Thigi; he has escaped out of the whirlpool of existences, and delivered himself from the miseries of transmigration. He is on his way to the city of Radzagio attended by a thousand Rahandas." (The same stanza is thrice repeated.) "He who has obtained the perfection of Ariahs, who has practised the ten great virtues, who has a universal knowledge, who knows and preaches the law of merits, who discovers at once the sublime attainments, the most perfect being, the most excellent, is entering into the city of Radzagio attended by a thousand Rahandas."

The inhabitants of the city, seeing the beautiful appearance of that young man, and hearing all that he was singing aloud, said to each other, "Who is that young man whose countenance is so lovely, and whose mouth proclaims such wonderful things?" The Thagia, hearing what was said of him, replied, "O children of men! the most excellent Phra whom you see is gifted with an incomparable wisdom; all perfections are in him; he is free of all passions; no being can ever be compared to him; he is worthy to receive the homage and respect of men and Nats; his unwavering mind is ever fixed in truth; he announces a law extending to all things. As for me, I am but his humble servant."[4]

Having reached the king's palace, Buddha was received with every demonstration of respect, and led to the place prepared for him. Pimpathara thought within himself of the thing which could prove acceptable to Phra, in order to offer it to him. He said within himself, "My garden, which is situated near the city, would doubtless be a very fit place for Buddha and his followers to live in. As it lies not far from the city, it would be a place of easy resort to all those who should feel inclined to visit Buddha and pay him their respects; it is, moreover, far enough off, so that the noise and cries of the people could not be heard therein. The place is peculiarly fitted for retreat and contemplation; it will assuredly prove agreeable to Buddha." Whereupon he rose up, and, holding in his hand a golden shell like a cup, he made to Phra a solemn offering of that garden which was called Weloowon.[5] Gaudama remained silent, in token of his acceptance of the gift. He preached the law and left the palace. At that time he called his disciples and said to them, "Beloved Rahans, I give you permission to receive offerings."

In the country of Radzagio there was a heterodox Rahan named Thindzi, who had under him five hundred and fifty disciples. Thariputra and Maukalan were at that time practising virtue under the guidance of that master. Here is the way they became Rahans. When they were but laymen, under the names of Oopathi and Kaulita, on a certain day, surrounded by two hundred and twenty companions, they went to the top of a lofty mountain to enjoy the sight of countless multitudes of people sporting and playing in the surrounding flat country. While they were gazing over the crowds of human beings they said to each other, "In a hundred years hence all these living beings shall have fallen a prey to death." Whereupon they rose up and left the place, but their minds were deeply preoccupied with the idea of death. While the two friends were walking silently together, they began at last to communicate to each other the result of their reflections. "If there be," said they, "a principle of death, a universal tendency towards destruction, there must be, too, its opposite principle, that of not dying and escaping destruction." On that very instant they resolved to search ardently for the excellent law that teaches the way of not dying, and obtain the state of perfect fixity and immutability. In those parts there lived six heterodox teachers who were named Mekkali, Gau, Sala, Thindzi, Jani, and Ganti; among them Thindzi was the only one who, with his disciples, wore white clothes. They went to the place where lived the Rahan Thindzi, placed themselves under his direction, and put on the dress of Rahan. Within three days they acquired the science, wisdom, and knowledge of their teacher without having as yet reached the object of their eager pursuit. They said to Thindzi, "Teacher, is this all that you know? And have you no other science to teach us?" "I have indeed," replied the teacher, "taught you all the knowledge I possess." Finding nothing satisfactory in the answer, the two friends said, "Let us continue seeking for the law that has reality in itself; the first that shall have discovered it shall, without delay, communicate it to the other."

On a certain morning one of Gaudama's disciples named Athadzi, having put on his religious habit, and carrying his patta on his left arm, went out to receive his rice. Everything about his person was noble and graceful; his countenance and behaviour were at once gentle and dignified, whether he walked or stopped, looked forward to the right or the left, or sat in a cross-legged position. The false Rahan Oopathi, who became afterwards Thariputra, perceiving the Rahan Athadzi with such a meek and dignified deportment, said to himself, "Such a Rahan is assuredly worthy to receive offerings: he has doubtless attained perfection. I will go to him and ask him, in case he has had a teacher, who is that distinguished instructor under whom he practises virtue; and in case of his being himself a teacher, what is the doctrine that he teaches. But it is not becoming to put to him any question whilst he is on his way to beg alms. I will follow at a distance." Athadzi, having collected alms, left the city and went to a small dzeat, where he sat down and ate his meal. Oopathi followed him thither. Having entered into the dzeat, he rendered to him the services that a disciple usually pays to his teacher. When the meal of Athadzi was over, he poured water over his hands, and with a heart overflowing with joy, he conversed with him for a while. He withdrew then to a becoming distance, and addressed him as follows: "Great Rahan, your exterior is full of meekness and benevolence; your countenance bespeaks the purity and innocence of your soul; if you be a disciple, pray under what teacher have you become a Rahan? Who is your guide in the way to perfection? and what is the doctrine he is preaching to you?" "Young Rahan," replied Athadzi, "have you not heard of the illustrious Buddha, the descendant of a long succession of great monarchs, who has entered the profession of Rahan? I have become Rahan under him; he is my teacher; to his doctrine I cling with all the energy of my soul." "What is the doctrine of that great master?" asked Oopathi. "I am but a novice in the profession," replied modestly Athadzi, "and am as yet imperfectly acquainted with the doctrine of my teacher. The little, however, I know, I will freely communicate to you." Oopathi entreated him to do so. Athadzi replied, "The law which I have learned at the feet of Buddha explains all that relates to matter, to the principles that act upon it, to passions, and to the mind; it makes man despise all that is material, conquer his passions, and regulate his mind." On hearing this doctrine, Oopathi felt the ties of passions gradually relaxing and giving way; his soul became, as it were, disentangled from the influence of the senses. He became enamoured with such a pure and perfect law, and obtained the condition of Thautapan. Convinced that he had at last found what he had hitherto searched after in vain, the law of Neibban, he went without delay to his friend, to make him share in the beneficial result of his fortunate discovery. Kaulita, perceiving his friend coming up to him with a rejoicing countenance, indicative of the happiness his soul was inwardly enjoying, asked him if he had found what he had hitherto vainly looked for. Oopathi related to him all the particulars of his conversation with the Rahan Athadzi. Whereupon Kaulita became instantly a Thautapan. Both resolved to leave their teacher Thindzi, and go immediately to place themselves under the guidance of Buddha. Three times they applied for permission to execute their design, and three times it was denied them. At last they departed, each with his two hundred and twenty companions. Thindzi, enraged at being left alone, died, vomiting blood from his mouth.

When the two friends and their followers were drawing near to the place of Weloowon, Phra assembled all his disciples and said to them, "Behold these two friends coming up to me; they will become my two beloved disciples; their minds are acute and penetrating; they actually take delight in the law of Neibban; their thoughts are converging towards that great centre of truth; they come to me, and they will become my two most excellent disciples." While he was speaking, the two friends crossed the threshold of the monastery, and prostrated themselves at the feet of Buddha, humbly craving the favour of being admitted among his disciples to practise virtue under his immediate direction. On this occasion Phra uttered the following words: "O Bickus, come to me; I preach the most excellent law: apply yourselves to the practice of the most perfect works, which will put an end to all miseries." A suit of dress and a patta were handed to each of the two friends, that were henceforth to be called Thariputra and Maukalan, and they became members of the assembly. Having put on the new dress, they appeared to the eyes of all with the decent and dignified deportment of Rahans that had sixty years of profession. Their followers became Bickus of the second order. Seven days after, Maukalan became a Rahanda; but it took fifteen days for Thariputra to obtain the same favour. The two new converts were elevated to the dignity of disciples of the right and of the left; that is to say, they obtained precedence over all others.

The distinction thus granted to Thariputra and Maukalan excited a feeling of jealousy among the disciples of Buddha. In their conversations they complained to each other of the preference given to those who had just been admitted among the members of assembly. They went so far as to say that Buddha had acted in this case under the influence of human considerations. These remarks were brought to the notice of Buddha, who assembled his disciples, and said to them, "Beloved Bickus, my conduct in this instance has not been guided by unworthy motives; I have acted as I ought to have done. In the days of the Phra Anaumadathi, the two friends were leading the life of ascetics. They paid the greatest respect and veneration to the then existing Buddha, and entreated him, by repeated supplications, to hold out to them the solemn promise that they would become the disciples of the right and of the left of some future Buddha. Anaumadathi replied to them that the object of their wishes should be granted unto them when the Buddha Gaudama would appear in the world. This is, beloved Bickus, the reason that has influenced me in elevating to the first rank the two new converts." The answer completely satisfied the disciples, and effectually silenced all murmurs. Further particulars regarding the promise that these two illustrious friends received in the time of the Buddha Anaumadathi may be read, with circumstantial details, in the book called Apadan-tera.

The inhabitants of the Magatha country, seeing that so many persons, chiefly belonging to the first families, were embracing the profession of Rahans, said amongst themselves, "Behold how the Rahan Gaudama, by his preachings, causes the depopulation of the country, and forces countless wives to the unwished-for state of widowhood. A thousand Rathees have embraced the profession of Rahans; all the disciples of Thindzi have followed their example; many others will soon tread in their footsteps. What will become of our country?" With these and other expressions, they gave vent to their hatred of the Rahans, and endeavoured to pour over them all kinds of ridicule and abuse. They concluded by saying, "The great Rahan has come to the city of Radzagio, which is like a cow-pen, surrounded by five hills;[6] he has now with him the disciples of Thindzi; who will be the next to go to him?" The Rahans, hearing all that was said against them, went to Buddha and related to him all that they had heard. To console them, Buddha said, "Beloved Bickus, the abuses, sarcasms, and ridicule levelled at you shall not last long; seven days hence all shall be over. Here is the reply you will make to the revilers: Like all his predecessors, Buddha is striving to preach a most perfect law; by the means of the truths which he proclaims for the benefit of all, he brings men over to himself. What shall it avail any man to feel envious at the success he obtains by so legitimate a means?" The same torrent of ridicule having been poured on the Rahans, when they went out, they followed the advice of their great teacher, replied in the manner they had been taught to do, and the storm was soon over. The people understood that the great Rahan was preaching a perfect law, and that he never resorted but to fair means to attract disciples round his person. Here ends the narrative of the conversion and vocation of Thariputra and Maukalan.

FOOTNOTES

[1] The philosophical discourse of Buddha on the mountain may be
considered as the summary of his theory of morals. It is
confessedly very obscure and much above the ordinary level of
the human understanding. The hearers whom he addressed were
persons already trained up to his teaching, and therefore
prepared for understanding such doctrines. Had he spoken in that
abstruse style to common people, it is certain he would have
missed his aim and exposed himself to the chance of not being
understood. But he addressed a select audience, whose minds were
fully capable of comprehending his most elevated doctrines. He
calls his disciples Bickus, or mendicants, to remind them of the
state of voluntary poverty they had embraced when they became
his followers, and to impress their minds with contempt for the
riches and pleasures of this world.

He lays it down as a great and general principle that all that
exists resembles a flame that dazzles the eyes by its brilliancy
and torments by its burning effects. Here appears the favourite
notion of Buddhism that there is nothing substantial and real in
this world, and that the continual changes and vicissitudes we
are exposed to are the cause of painful sensations. Buddha
reviews the six senses (the heart, according to his theory, is
the seat of a sixth sense) in succession, and as they are the
channels through which affections are produced on the soul, he
compares to a burning flame the organs of the senses, the
various objects of the action of the senses, the results painful
or agreeable produced by them. Hence he fulminates a general and
sweeping condemnation against all that exists out of man. The
senses, being the means through which matter influences the
soul, share in the universal doom. Buddha sets forth the causes
productive of that burning flame. They are--first, the three
great and general principles of demerits, viz., concupiscence,
anger, and ignorance. In the book of Ethics these three
principles are explained at great length; they are represented
as the springs from which flow all other passions. In a
lengthened digression the author aims at simplifying the
question, and endeavours to show, by a logical process, that
ignorance is the head source from which concupiscence and
passion take their rise. It is, therefore, according to
Buddhists, into the dark recess of ignorance that metaphysicians
must penetrate in order to discover the first cause of all moral
disorders. Every being has his mind more or less encompassed by
a thick mist that prevents him from seeing truth. He mistakes
good for evil, right for wrong; he erroneously clings to
material objects that have no reality, no substance, no
consistence; his passions are kept alive by his love or hatred
of vain illusions. The flame is, moreover, fed by birth, old
age, death, afflictions, &c., which are as many _foci_ wherefrom
radiate out on all surrounding objects fires which keep up the
general conflagration. But they play only a secondary action,
dependent on the three great causes of all evils just alluded
to. What causes birth, old age, and death? inquires the
Buddhist. The law of merits and demerits is the immediate answer
to the question; it might be added thereto, the necessity of
acquiring merits and gravitating towards perfection. A man is
born to innumerable succeeding existences by virtue of his
imperfections, and that he might acquire fresh merits by the
practice of virtue. By birth, a being is ushered into a new
existence or into a new state, where the burning flame which is
supposed to spread over all that exists exercises its teasing
and tormenting influence over him. Old age and death are two
periods when a radical change operates upon a being, and places
him in a different situation where he experiences the baneful
effects of the conflagration. "Blessed are they," says Buddha,
"who understand this; they are full of wisdom; they become
displeased with all passions and with all the things they act
upon. The causes of existences being done away with, they have
reached the terminus of all possible existences; one step more
and they find themselves placed beyond the influence of the
power of attraction that retains forcibly all beings in the
vortex of existences, and brings them towards the centre of
perfection; they are in fact entering into the state of
Neibban."

[2] From the purport of Kathaba's reply to Buddha's question, it
may be inferred with certainty that the Rathees were in the
habit of making sacrifices or burnt-offerings. These sacrifices
again were distinguished into two classes; the one, including
the small or daily ones, and the other, the great
burnt-offerings, made on solemn occasions. That these sacrifices
were not performed by the killing and immolating of animals,
there can be no doubt, as such an act would have been contrary
to the tender regard they always had for the life of animals.
The institutes of Menu come to our help to elucidate this point.
The Brahmin is enjoined, according to that compilation of laws,
to make burnt-offerings of clarified butter and other articles
to the manes of his ancestors. Agreeably to this regulation,
Kathaba performed those rites, which, in the opinion of Buddha,
were perfectly useless, since they could not be the means of
elevating the performer to the knowledge and perfection
requisite for obtaining what he always calls _per excellence_
the deliverance.

Kathaba is rather obscure in his answer. It seems that he
intended to acknowledge that, notwithstanding the sacrifices and
burnt-offerings he had made, and upon the value of which he had
laid much stress, concupiscence and other vicious propensities
were still deeply rooted in him; that, through the channel of
his senses, exterior objects continued to make impressions on
his soul. He had, therefore, become disgusted with practices
which could not free him from the action and influence of
passions and matter.

In the opinion of Buddha, the observance of exterior religious
rites can never elevate man to the sublime knowledge of pure
truth, which alone does confer real perfection to him who has
become a true sage, and is deemed worthy of obtaining the
deliverance. A serious application of the mind to the meditation
of the law and the nature of beings, is the only way leading to
the acquirement of true wisdom. As long as Kathaba was contented
with material acts of worship, and his mind's attention was
engrossed with those vain ceremonials, he had not as yet entered
in the way of perfection. He had hitherto missed the true path;
he had wandered in the broad road of error, encompassed by
mental darkness, and deceived by perpetual illusions. His
extensive knowledge had served but to lead him in the wrong
direction. He wanted the guidance of Buddha to enable him to
retrace his steps and find the right way. He had to become
sensible of the truth of the great fundamental maxims of all
real wisdom, viz., that in this world all is subjected to change
and to pain; and that all beings are mere illusions, destitute
of all reality.

[3] To complete what has already been stated respecting the
Ariahs or venerables in a foregoing note, the following is
added. The reader must bear in mind that the Ariahs are divided
into four classes, named--Thautapan, Thakadagam, Anagam, and
Arahats, and according to the particular position occupied by
the beings of those states, each class is subdivided into two:
Thus, for instance, Thautapatti Megata means he who has entered
and is walking, as it were, in the way of the perfection of
Thautapan; and Thautapatti-pho indicates those who enjoy the
merits and blessings of the state of Thautapan; and so with the
three superior stages of perfection. To obtain the state of
Thautapan, a man must have left the direction followed up by all
creatures and entered into the direction or way that leads to
deliverance. He will have yet to go through 80,000 kaps or
durations of worlds, and must be born seven times more in the
state of man and Nat before he be a perfected being, ripe for
the state of Neibban. Those who have reached the state of
Thakadagam shall have to pass through 60,000 kaps, and be born
once in the state of Nat and once in the state of man, before
they be perfected. Those who have obtained the third step of
Anagam have to travel through 40,000 kaps, and are no more to
undergo the process of birth at the end of that period they are
perfected. The fourth stage of perfection, that of Arahat, is
the highest a being can ever obtain. The fortunate Arahat is
gifted with supernatural powers. At the end of 20,000 kaps he is
perfected, and reaches the state of deliverance. Those four
states are often called the four great roads leading to
deliverance or to Neibban. It may be asked whether the state of
Thautapan is the first step reached by every one that adheres to
Buddha's doctrines or whether it is the one that requires a
certain progress in the way of believing and practising? It
seems, from the narrative of the conversion of King Pimpathara
and his followers, that the state of Thautapan is the reward of
those who have shown a more than common proficiency and fervour
in adhering to Buddha and his doctrines, but not the first step
to enter into the assembly of the faithful and become a member
thereof. One may be a simple hearer, or Upathaka, believing in
the three precious things, without attaining that of Thautapan.
On this occasion, the king and 100,000 of his warriors and
noblemen became Thautapans, whereas the remaining 10,000 became
believers and members of the assembly without reaching any
further. The first entered into the stream or current leading to
perfection. The latter were fervent believers, observed the five
precepts, but in no way aspired to the attainment of the
doctrines of a higher order.

[4] Is not that young man doing the duty of forerunner of Buddha
on the occasion of his solemn entry into the city of Radzagio?

The narrative of the donation of the grove or garden of Weloowon
by King Pimpathara to Buddha, discloses the manner in which
Buddhistic monks have become holders, not as individuals, but as
members of society, of landed properties. Buddha and his
disciples at first had no place as a body or a society to live
in; hitherto he had taken up his quarters in any place where
people were willing to receive him. He must have often been put
to great inconvenience, particularly after the accession of new
disciples, who daily crowded about him. The pious king felt the
disadvantage the society was labouring under: he resolved to
give them a place where the assembly might live and remain. The
donation was as solemn as possible. It transferred to Buddha the
property of the garden, without any condition, for ever. The
donation, on the other hand, was fully accepted. This is, I
believe, the first instance of an act of this description. The
grove and monastery of Weloowon is much celebrated in Buddha's
life.

In Burmese towns a particular spot is allowed for the building
of houses or monasteries for Buddhistic recluses or monks. It is
somewhat isolated from all other buildings, and forms, as it
were, the quarter of the yellow-dressed personages. Here is a
general description of one of these buildings. They are of an
oblong-square shape, raised about eight or ten feet above the
ground, and supported on wooden posts, and sometimes, though
seldom, on brick pillars. The frame of the edifice is of wood,
and planks form the wall. Above the first roof rises a second
one of smaller dimensions, and a third one, yet smaller than the
second. This style of roofing a building is allowed only for
pagodas, Talapoins' houses, and royal palaces. The place between
the soil and the floor is left open and never converted to any
use. A flight of steps, made of wood or bricks, leads to the
entrance of the edifice, the interior whereof is generally
divided as follows:--One vast hall designed for the reception of
visitors, and used also as a schoolroom for the boys who go to
learn the rudiments of reading, writing, and sometimes
ciphering. Except on grand occasions, the Talapoins generally
stay in that hall, doing away with their time in the best way
they can, occasionally reading books, counting their beads,
chewing betel, and very often sleeping. At the extremity of the
hall there is a place raised one or two steps above the level. A
portion of that place is left vacant, and reserved for the
sittings of the Talapoins, when they receive visitors; the other
portion, which extends to the wall, is occupied by idols or
representations of Buddha, raised on pedestals, and sometimes
placed on shelves, with the few implements required for exterior
worship. There, too, are to be seen a few trunks ornamented with
sculptures and gildings, and containing books belonging to the
monastery. The hall and the place as far as the walls occupy
just one-half of the oblong-square. The other half, parallel to
the first, is occupied by rooms intended for the storing of
alms, and as dormitories for the inmates of the house. In some,
monasteries the ceiling is painted and partly gilt. The
cook-room, when there is one, is connected with the extremity of
the square opposite to the one occupied by the idols. It is
generally on the same level with the floor of the building.
Government has nothing to do with the erection, repairs, and
maintenance of these edifices. They are erected and kept up by
private individuals, who deem it very meritorious to build such
places. Those whose piety actuates and prompts them to undertake
such an expensive work assume the title of Kiaong Taga, which
means supporter of a pagoda or Talapoins' residence. They are
proud of such distinction, cause themselves to be called by that
title, and always make it to follow their names in signing any
paper or document.

The above descriptive sketch of a monastery is rather
incomplete, if applied to those found in the large places of
Burmah proper, and particularly in the capital. Some of them are
laid out on a scale of vastness and magnificence difficult to
realise by those who have not examined them. A large open
gallery runs all round the building; a second one of a
rectangular shape, but protected by the roof, forms, as it were,
on the four sides the _vestibulum_ to the central portion of the
edifice. It is the place where the Phongies spend the greater
part of their time, either in talking with the numerous idlers
that visit them, or in teaching children. Large shutters
separate this from the open verandah; they may be thrown all
open by pushing forward the lower part, the upper one remaining
fixed by hinges, and so may be opened to the height required to
protect the inmates from the rain and the sun. The central hall,
by far the finest and loftiest of the building, is reserved for
the idols and all the implements of worship, and the boxes
containing the books of the monastery, commonly put together in
a very disordered way. The ceiling is gilt and adorned, often
with taste and elegance. A partition divides the hall into two
equal parts. The one towards the east is for some huge statue of
Gaudama, and smaller ones with many articles of worship. The
other, facing the south, is used for several purposes; sometimes
as dormitories for the Talapoins. The posts supporting the
interior part are six or eight in number, and offer the finest
specimens of teak timber I have ever seen, some being fully
sixty and seventy feet high. In some of these monasteries the
best parts of the interior are gilt, and sometimes the exterior
sides; the ornaments of the extremities of the roof and the
space between the roofs are covered with gold leaves. In those
two places too are displayed carvings, which reflect great
credit on the skill of native workmen, and elicit the admiration
of foreigners. One of these monasteries called the
kioung-dau-gye, near the place where the Arracan idol is, and
another close to the place where the supreme head of Talapoins
is living, are the finest and largest specimens of monasteries
the writer has ever seen in Burmah.

[5] On the occasion of the presentation to Buddha of the
Weloowon monastery, and of the lands attached to it, by King
Pimpathara, there was observed a curious ceremony, often alluded
to in Buddhist writings. He held in his hands a golden pitcher
full of water, which he kept pouring down on the ground, whilst
he pronounced the formula of donation. This is a ceremony of
Indian origin, which, with many others, has been imported into
these parts along with the religious doctrines. It is intended
to be an exterior sign of, or testimony to, the offering that is
made on the occasion. When it is performed, the parties
pronounce a certain formula, calling the Nats, guardians of the
place, to witness the act of donation, and, in particular, the
Nat that is supposed to rule over the earth; and at the same
time the offerer, not satisfied with receiving for his own
benefit the merits of his pious liberality, expresses the
earnest desire that all men, or rather all beings, should share
with him in the blessings he expects to reap from his good deed.
The generous and liberal disposition of the donor, it may be
observed, exhibits the truly pleasing display of an amount of
charity and brotherly love scarcely to be expected from the
followers of an erroneous creed. The ceremony, therefore, has a
twofold object, conferring unreserved and absolute efficiency on
the act of donation, and dividing or apportioning the merits of
the good work among all beings.

In perusing attentively the contents of this legend, the reader
will easily follow the gradual development of the Buddhist
religious system, and, in particular, the establishment of most
of the disciplinary regulations in full force in our own days in
most of the countries where that form of religion has obtained a
long standing and a predominating footing. At first the
religious that constituted the body of the followers of Buddha
were few, and could easily, in the company of their eminent
teacher, procure, in accordance with the vow of strict poverty
they had made, shelter, food, and raiment. There was no need for
them to accept, in the shape of donation, anything beyond what
was absolutely necessary for the wants of the day. We may
conjecture that their leader watched with a jealous care over
his religious on this point, to establish them in the spirit of
poverty and of a thorough contempt for the things of this world.
But the society or fraternity growing numerous, the dependence
on the daily offerings appeared not to meet in sufficient manner
the real necessities it felt, particularly as regards shelter.
This want was quickly perceived and keenly felt by the pious
King Pimpathara, who came to the resolution of presenting Buddha
and his followers with a proper place to withdraw to at all
times, but particularly during the wet season, when the pouring
of the annual rains puts a check of four months to the religious
peregrinations of the preachers. The same motives that induced
Buddha to accept the proffered royal gift influenced him
likewise to grant to his religious the dangerous, it is true,
but the absolutely necessary permission of receiving offerings
of houses and lands. From that time, the religious communities
have made use of the privilege granted to them in all the places
where they have been established. In Burmah this favour has not
been abused, and the religious body, though never standing in
want of anything required for the daily use, cannot be said to
be wealthy. Having not to cast in the scales of the political
balance the weight of riches, and the preponderance essentially
attending the possession of them, their influence in the
political affairs is not, at least exteriorly, felt.

[6] In his Archaeological Survey Report, General Cunningham has
supplied us with an accurate description of the position and
ruins of the celebrated city of Radzagio. His own measurements
of the old ramparts, that are still visible, agree to a
surprising degree with those of the two Chinese pilgrims,
Fa-Hian and Hwen-Tsan, who visited the same spot in the fourth
and sixth century of our era. The city was situated in a valley,
surrounded by five hills, which are named Gigakuta, Isigli,
Wibhara, Wipula, and Pandawa. It was five miles in
circumference. This is meant for the circuit of the inner wall.
The exterior one was nearly nine miles. On the southern face of
the Wibhara mountain is the famous cave at the entrance of which
was held the first Buddhist council, not long after the
cremation of Buddha's remains. There is no doubt that the
heights were, in the palmy days of Buddhism, covered with
Buddhistic monuments. As the place was subsequently occupied by
Brahmins and Mussulmans, the Dzedis and monasteries have been
mercilessly pulled down to furnish materials for musjids, tombs,
and temples. The eminences are now covered with Mussulman tombs,
which occupy the places formerly adorned with pagodas. Springs
of hot water were numerous in the vicinity of the city. The
writer has only met once in Buddhistic compositions an allusion
to that natural phenomenon so beneficial to people living in hot
climates. The modern Rajghir, both by name and situation, brings
to our recollection the celebrated capital of Magatha, so famous
in Buddhistic annals. As the extent of Radzagio has been so
accurately determined by ancient and modern visitors, one can
well afford to laugh at the immensely exaggerated number of
houses that are supposed by certain Burmese writers to have
composed the city.