Chapter VIII

_Thoodaudana, desirous to see his son, sends messengers to him
-- They become converts -- Kaludari, a last messenger, prevails
on Buddha to go to Kapilawot -- His reception -- Conversion of
the king and of Yathaudara -- Nanda and Raoula put on the
religious habit -- Conversion of Ananda and of several of his
relatives -- Temptation of Ananda -- Conversion of Eggidatta --
Story of Tsampooka._

Whilst the most excellent Phra remained in the Weloowon monastery, enjoying himself in the midst of his disciples and the crowds of hearers that daily resorted thither to listen to his preachings, his father Thoodaudana[1] who had ever been anxiously and sedulously gathering every possible information respecting his son, from the time he withdrew into solitude, and performed during six years the hardest works of bodily mortification, was then informed that his son had already begun to preach the most perfect law, and was actually staying in the city of Radzagio. He felt then an irresistible desire to see him once more before his death. He therefore ordered a nobleman of his court into his presence, and said to him: "Nobleman, take with you a retinue of a thousand followers, and go forthwith to the city of Radzagio. Tell my son that I am now much advanced in years, that I long to see him once more before I die; desire him, therefore, to come over with you to the country of Kapilawot." The nobleman, having received the royal message, took leave from the king, and attended by a thousand followers, set out for Radzagio. When he drew near to the Weloowon monastery, he found it crowded with an innumerable multitude of people, listening with a respectful attention to Buddha's instructions. Unwilling to disturb the audience, the nobleman delayed for a while the delivery of his royal master's message. Halting at the verge of the crowd, he, with his followers, eagerly lent the utmost attention to all that Buddha was saying. They at once obtained the state of Arahat, and applied for admission into the order of Rahans. The favour was granted. To obtain pattas and tsiwarans for so great a number of applicants, Buddha stretched his right arm, when there appeared at once the pattas and dresses required. The new converts put on the dress of their order, when they all appeared with the dignified countenance and meek deportment of Rahans who had had sixty years of profession. Having arrived at the exalted state of Ariahs, they became indifferent and unconcerned about all the things of this material world, and the king's mandate was entirely lost sight of.

The sovereign of Kapilawot, seeing that his nobleman did not return from the country of Magatha,[2] and that no news was heard of him, despatched a second messenger with an equal number of followers on the same errand. They all were taken up with Buddha's preachings and became Rahandas. The same thing happened to seven messengers successively sent to Radzagio for the same purpose. They, with their respective retinues, became converts of the first class.

Disappointed at seeing that none of the messengers had returned to bring him any news regarding his son, King Thoodaudana exclaimed: "Is there no one in my palace that bears any affection unto me? Shall I not be able to get a person who could procure for me some information respecting my son?" He looked among his courtiers and selected one, named Kaludari, as the fittest person for such a difficult errand. Kaludari had been born on the same day as Buddha: with him he had spent the age of his infancy, and lived on terms of the most sincere friendship. The king said to him: "Noble Kaludari, you know how earnestly I long to see my son. Nine messengers have already been sent to the city of Radzagio to invite my son to come over to me, and none of them has as yet come back to me, to bring information respecting the object of my tenderest affections. I am old now, and the end of my existence is quite uncertain; could you not undertake to bring my son over to me? Whether you become Rahan or not, let me have the happiness of contemplating once more my beloved son ere I leave this world." The nobleman promised to the king to comply with his royal order. Attended by a retinue of a thousand followers, he set out for the city of Radzagio. Having reached the Weloowon monastery, he listened to Buddha's preachings, and, like the former messengers, he became at once a Rahanda with all his followers.

Gaudama, having obtained the Buddhaship, spent the first season (Lent) in the solitude of Migadawon. Thence he proceeded to the solitude of Ooroowela, where he remained three months, until he had completed the work of converting the three Kathabas. It was on the full moon of Piatho (January) that he entered into the city of Radzagio, accompanied by his thousand disciples. He had just stayed two months in that place, so that there were five months since he had left the country of Baranathee.

Seven days after Kaludari's arrival, the cold season being nearly over, the new convert addressed Buddha as follows: "Illustrious Phra, the cold season is over, and the warm season has just begun; this is now the proper time to travel through the country; nature wears a green aspect; the trees of the forests are in full blossom; the roads are lined to right and left with trees loaded with fragrant blossoms and delicious fruits; the peacock proudly expands its magnificent tail; birds of every description fill the air with their ravishing and melodious singing. At this season heat and cold are equally temperate, and nature is scattering profusely its choicest gifts." By such and similar allurements Kaludari endeavoured to dispose Buddha to undertake a journey to Kapilawot. Gaudama hearing all these words said: "What means this? To what purpose are uttered so many fine expressions?" Kaludari replied: "Your father, O blessed Buddha, is advanced in years; he has sent me to invite you to come over to Kapilawot, that he might see you before his death. He and your royal parents will be rejoiced at hearing your most excellent law." "Well," said Buddha, "go and tell the Rahans to hold themselves ready for the journey." It was arranged that ten thousand Rahandas from Magatha and ten thousand from Kapilawot would accompany the illustrious traveller. The distance between the two countries is sixty youdzanas.[3] Sixty days were to be employed in going over that distance, so they were to travel at the rate of but one youdzana a day.

Kaludari was anxious to go and inform the king of the happy issue of his negotiation. He flew through the air, and in a short time reached the palace of the lord of Kapilawot. The king, seeing him, was exceedingly glad; he desired the illustrious Rahan to sit in a becoming place, and gave orders that his patta should be filled with the choicest dishes from the royal table. Meanwhile Kaludari related to the king all the circumstances attending his journey. When he had spoken, Thoodaudana desired him to take his meal. Kaludari begged to be excused, saying that he would go and take his meal in the presence of Buddha. "Where is he now?" replied the king. "Mighty lord," answered Kaludari, "Buddha, accompanied by twenty thousand Rahandas, is on his way to this country, to pay a visit to his royal father; on this very day he has left the city of Radzagio." Thoodaudana was exceedingly pleased; he said again to Kaludari, "Eat your meal here, and please to take another meal to my son; I wish to supply him daily with food during his journey." Kaludari acceded to the king's request. When his meal was over, they cleansed his patta with the most exquisite perfumes, and afterwards filled it with the best and choicest eatables. The patta was then respectfully handed to the aerial messenger, who, in the presence of a large crowd of people, rose in the air with the patta under his arm, and in an instant arrived in presence of Gaudama, to whom he offered the vessel containing the delicious food from his father's table. Buddha received the food with pleasure, and ate it. The same thing was daily performed during all the time the journey lasted. Kaludari went every day to the palace through the air, ate his meal there, and brought that of his distinguished instructor, who during all the way partook of no other food but that which was brought over to him from his father's palace. Every day Kaludari carried news of the progress of Buddha's journey. By this means he increased in the heart of all an ardent desire of seeing him, and disposed every one to wait on the great Gaudama with favourable and good dispositions. The services rendered on this occasion by Kaludari were much valued by Buddha himself, who said: "Kaludari is disposing the people to welcome our arrival; he is therefore one of the most excellent among my disciples."

The princes and all the members of the royal family, having heard of Gaudama's arrival, consulted among themselves as to the best means of paying due respect to the noble and illustrious visitor. They selected the grove of Nigraudatha[4] as the fittest place to receive him with his disciples. The place was properly cleared and made ready for the long-expected company. The inhabitants of the country, attended with their richest dress, carrying flowers and perfumes, went out to meet Buddha.[5] Children of both sexes opened the procession; they were followed by the children of the noblest families; next came all the persons belonging to the royal family. All went to the grove of Nigraudatha, where Buddha had just arrived with the twenty thousand Rahans that accompanied him.

The princes, secretly influenced by pride, thus thought within themselves: This Prince Theiddat is younger than we all; he is but our nephew, let the young people prostrate themselves before him; as to ourselves, let us remain sitting down behind them. This was quickly perceived by Buddha, who said to himself: My relatives refuse to prostrate themselves before me; I will now even compel them to do so. Whereupon he entered into ecstasy, rose in the air, and standing over the heads of his relatives, as a person shaking dust over them, he exhibited to their astonished regards, on a white mango-tree, wonders of fire and water. Thoodaudana, surprised at such a wonderful display of supernatural power, exclaimed: "Illustrious Buddha, on the day you were born they brought you to the presence of the Rathee Kaladewela, to do homage to him; on that occasion, having seen you placing your two feet on the Rathee's forehead, I prostrated myself before you for the first time. On the day of the ploughing solemn rejoicings, you were placed under the shade of the tree Tsampoothapye. The sun by its daily motion had caused the shadows of all surrounding trees to change their direction; that of the tree under which you were placed alone remaining unmoved. I prostrated myself a second time before you; and now, at the sight of this new wonder, I again bow down to you." The example of the king was instantly imitated by all the princes, who humbly bowed down to Buddha. Satisfied with having humbled his proud relatives, Buddha came down and sat in the place prepared for him. He then caused a shower of red rain to pour down over the assembled multitudes. It had the virtue to wet those who liked it, and not to wet those who disliked it. "This is not," said Buddha, "the only time when such a wonder has happened; the same thing took place once during one of my former existences, when I was Prince Wethandra." He went on, relating the most interesting circumstances of that former state of existence. The whole assembly now delighted at hearing his preachings and witnessing the display of his power. They all withdrew when the preaching was over, and retired to their respective places, without, however, inviting Buddha to come and take his meals in their houses.

On the following morning, Buddha set out with his twenty thousand followers to get his meal. When he had arrived at the gate of the city, he stood for a while, deliberating within himself whether he would go to the palace to receive his meal, or go from street to street to beg for it. He paused for a while, reflecting on the course of conduct that had been followed by all the former Buddhas. Having known that they all, without exception, had been in the habit of going out from house to house in quest of their food, he resolved at once to follow their example. Whereupon he entered the city and began to perambulate the streets in search of his food. The citizens, from the various stories of their houses, were looking out with amazement at such an unusual sight. "How is this?" said they; "we see Prince Raoula and his mother Yathaudara going out attired in the richest dresses, sitting in the most elegant conveyance, and now Prince Theiddat[6] is appearing in the streets with his hair and beard shaved, and his body covered with a yellow dress befitting a mendicant. Such a thing is unbecoming indeed." Whilst they were holding this language, on a sudden, rays of the purest light shot forth from the body of Buddha, and illuminated all the objects around his person. At this unexpected sight, they all joined in praising and extolling the virtue and glory of Buddha.

King Thoodaudana was soon informed that his son was perambulating the streets of the city in the dress of a mendicant. Startled at such a news, he rose, and seizing the extremity of his outer garment, ran to the encounter of his son. As soon as he saw him he exclaimed: "Illustrious Buddha, why do you expose us to such a shame? Is it necessary to go from door to door to beg your food? Could not a better and more decent mode be resorted to for supplying your wants?" "My noble father," said Buddha, "it is meet and convenient that all Rahans should go out and beg their food." "But," replied the monarch, "are we not the descendants of the illustrious Prince Thamadat? There is not a single person in our illustrious race that has ever acted in such an indecorous manner." Buddha retorted, "My noble father,[7] the descent from the glorious princes Thamadat is something that belongs both to you and your royal family: the lineage of a Buddha is quite different from that of kings and princes; it bears no resemblance to it. Their ways and manners must essentially differ from those of princes. All former Buddhas have always been in the habit of thus going out in search of their food." Then stopping his course and standing in the street, he uttered the following stanzas, "My noble father, it is not proper that I should ever neglect the duty of receiving alms; it is an action good in itself, tallying with truth, deserving of great merits, and productive of happiness in this and future existences." When he had spoken, his father obtained the state of Thautapan. He went to the palace with his father, saying, "Those who go to beg food according to the injunction and prescription of the law, are doing well, and prepare themselves for a state of happiness both for the present and future: those who do go begging, but without any regard to the ordinances of the law, ought to refrain from doing so." He was speaking in that way when he entered the palace. His aunt Gaudamee became a Thautapan. His father, after this second preaching, reached the state Thagadagan.

Thoodaudana invited Phra and his followers to ascend to the upper part of the palace and partake of the meal prepared for them. When the meal was over, all the ladies of the palace came to pay their respects to Buddha. Some of them urged the Princess Yathaudara to do the same. But she refused to comply with their request, in the hope that a greater deference would be shown to her, and Buddha would come and visit her in her apartments. Perceiving her studied inattendance, Phra said to his father, "My noble father, I will go and visit the princess, and will, without saying a single word, make her pay obedience to, and prostrate herself before me." King Thoodaudana took up the patta, and accompanied his son to the princess's apartments, together with his two disciples, Thariputra and Maukalan. Buddha had scarcely been seated on the place destined to him, when Yathaudara threw herself at Buddha's feet, and placing her two hands on both ankles, touched repeatedly the upper part with her forehead. Meanwhile Thoodaudana mentioned to his son the respectful and affectionate regard she had ever entertained for his person. "Since she heard," added the king, "that you had put on the yellow robe, she would wear only clothes of that colour; when she knew that you took but one meal a day, that you slept on a small and low couch, and gave up, without regret, the use of perfumes, she instantly followed your example, ate but one meal a day, slept on a low couch, and gave up without grief the use of essences." "Illustrious monarch," replied Buddha, "I do not wonder at the practices of late observed by the Princess Yathaudara; in former times, when her merits were as yet only few and imperfect, she was living at the foot of a certain mountain, and knew, even then, how to behave with becomingness, and attend with a strict regard to all religious duties."

This very day, that is to say, the second day after the full moon of Katson, was fixed as the time for the taking place of five grand ceremonies. Nanda,[8] the younger brother of Buddha, was to have his head washed, to put on the thingkiit, or royal head ornament, to be raised to the dignity of crown prince, to be put in possession of his own palace, and to be married. When Phra was leaving the palace, he bade the young prince take his patta and follow him. Nanda instantly complied with the request, and departed. He was just leaving the palace, when the young lady he was to marry heard the sound of the steps and of the voice of her lover. She was then busily engaged in combing her beautiful and shining black hair. With the left hand drawing aside her hair, and with the right leaning on the window-frame, she, with a sweet yet tremulous voice, eagerly recommended him soon to return. She then continued to follow him with anxious eyes until he could be seen no longer. Meanwhile, resting against the window-side, she had her heart full of ominous forebodings. Nanda would have gladly given back the patta to his owner; but as he felt backward to hand it over to him, he followed Buddha as far as the monastery. Though he had no intention of becoming Rahan on his way to that place, yet, despite of his former dispositions, he entered into the society of the perfect. So that on the second day after Phra's arrival at Kapilawot, Nanda became a Rahan. Some other writings mention that this happened only on the third day.

On the seventh day after Phra had entered into the city of Kapilawot, the mother of Raoula, Princess Yathaudara, put on her son the choicest ornaments, and sent him to Phra, saying previously to him: "Dearest son, he whom you see surrounded by twenty thousand Rahandas, whose face resembles gold, and whose body is similar to that of the chief of Brahmas, is indeed your father. He was formerly the owner of the four gold vases which disappeared on the very day he withdrew into solitude; go to him now, and say respectfully, that, being at present crown prince of this kingdom, destined to succeed your grandfather on the throne, you wish to become possessed of the property that will fall to you in right of inheritance." The young prince departed. Having come into the presence of Buddha, he endeavoured, with the simplicity and amiability becoming a young lad, to ingratiate himself in his father's favour, and said how happy he was to be with him, adding many other particulars befitting his age and position. Buddha, having eaten his meal and performed his usual devotions, rose up and departed. Raoula followed behind, saying: "Father, give me my inheritance." Buddha appearing neither displeased nor vexed at such a demand, none of his followers durst tell the young prince to desist from his apparently rude behaviour, and go back to the palace. They all soon reached the monastery. Phra thus thought within himself: Raoula is asking from me perishable things, but I will give him something more excellent and lasting. I will make him partaker of those goods I have gathered at the foot of the Bodi tree, and thereby will provide for him a better inheritance for the future. Whereupon he called Thariputra, and said to him: "Beloved disciple, the young Prince Raoula asks from me a worldly inheritance, which would avail him nothing, but I wish to present him with something more excellent, an imperishable inheritance; let him become a Rahan." Maukalan shaved the head of Raoula and attired him with the tsiwaran. Thariputra gave him the first instructions. When hereafter he became Patzing, Kathaba trained him up to the duties of his new profession.

King Thoodaudana had seen his first son Prince Theiddat leave the palace and all the attracting allurements of a brilliant court; despite of all his precautions, he subsequently witnessed his going into a solitude and becoming a Rahan. Next to him, his younger son Nanda, though assured by the promises of soothsayers of becoming a great and mighty ruler, had joined the society of Rahans. These two events had deeply afflicted him. But, on hearing that his grandson had also become a Rahan, he could no longer keep his affliction within himself. "I had," said he, "hoped that my grandson would succeed me on the throne; this thought consoled me for the loss of my two sons. What will become of my throne? Now the royal succession is at an end, and the line of direct descendants is for ever cut and irrevocably broken asunder."

Thoodaudana obtained the state of Anagam. He said to himself: It is enough that I should have had so much to suffer and endure on the occasion of my two sons and my grandson becoming Rahans; I will spare to other parents a similar affliction. He went to Buddha's place, and having paid him his respects in a becoming manner, asked him to establish a regulation forbidding any son to become Rahan, unless he had the consent of his parents. Buddha assented to his father's wish and preached to him the law. When the instruction was finished, the king bowed to him, rose up, turned on the right, and departed. Buddha, calling immediately the Rahans, said to them: "Beloved Bickus, no one is to be admitted to the profession of Rahan, ere he has obtained the consent of his parents: any one that shall trespass this regulation shall be guilty of a sin."

On a certain day, Phra having eaten his meal at his father's palace, the king related to him the circumstance of a Nat, who, whilst he was undergoing great austerities in the solitude, had come and conveyed the report of his son having succumbed under the hardships of mortification; but he would never give credit to such a rumour, as he was certain that his son could not die ere he had become a Buddha. "My illustrious father," replied Buddha, "you are much advanced in merits; there is no wonder at your not believing a false report; but even in former ages, when your merits were as yet very imperfect, you refused to believe your son was dead, though in proof of this assertion bones were exhibited before you in confirmation of the report." And he went on relating many particulars that are to be found in the history of Maha Damma Pala. It was at the conclusion of this discourse that the king became Anagam. Having thus firmly established his father in the three degrees of perfection, Buddha returned to the country of Radzagio.

During this voyage, the most excellent Phra arrived at the village of Anupya, in the country of the Malla Princes. In the neighbourhood of the village there is a grove of mango-trees. To that place he withdrew with his twenty thousand disciples, and enjoyed himself in that secluded and delightful retreat.

While he dwelt on that spot, the seed of the law that he had planted in his native city was silently taking deep root in the hearts of many. His uncle Thekkaudana had two sons, named Mahanan and Anooroudha. On a certain day Mahanan said to his younger brother: "From among the several families of the royal race, many persons have left the world and embraced the religious profession under the guidance of Buddha. Our family is the only one that has not as yet given any member to the assembly. I will make you a proposal: either you will become an ascetic, and leave me your inheritance; or I will myself take that step, and make over to you all that I possess." Anooroudha at once accepted the proposal.

When the intentions of the two brothers became known, five young princes, their playmates and relatives, named Bagoo, Kimila, Baddya, Ananda,[9] and Dewadat, desired to join them in their pious design. Having put on their finest dress, they went into the country, having no other attendant but Oopali, their barber. They shaped their course in the direction of Anupya. Being at a small distance from the mango-trees' grove, the young princes stripped themselves of their rich dresses, and gave them all to the barber, as an acknowledgment of his services. The latter at first accepted them, and was preparing to return, when the following thought occurred to his mind: "If I go back to Kapilawot with these fine and rich apparels, the king and the people will believe that I have come by foul means in possession of so many valuables, and I shall certainly be put to death. I will follow my masters, and never leave them." Hereupon he returned in all haste and joined them at the very moment they were disposing themselves to enter into the Anupya mango-trees' grove. Oopali was admitted into their company, and ushered along with them into Buddha's presence. Having paid their respects in the usual manner, they applied for the dignity of members of the assembly. Their request was granted. But previous to passing through the prescribed ceremonies, the princes said one to another: "Great indeed and deeply rooted is the pride of princes: it is extremely difficult to shake it off, and free oneself of its tyrannical exactions. Let Oopali be first ordained; we will have an opportunity of humbling ourselves by prostrating ourselves before him." Their request was granted. After having paid their respects to the newly ordained convert, they were likewise admitted among the members of the assembly. Their proficiency in spiritual progress was not the same. During the second Lent, which they spent in the Weloowon monastery, Baddya, Bagoo, and Kimila reached the culminating point of perfection by becoming Rahandas. Ananda became Thautapatti. Anooroudha greatly advanced in the higher path of metaphysics. As to Dewadat, he never attained more than the Laukithamabat.

A little while after the conversion of the royal princes, Buddha left Anupya, continued his voyage to Radzagio, and forthwith retired into the Weloowon monastery to spend his second Lent. The time was chiefly employed in training up the new converts in the knowledge of the great truths, and in the practice of virtue. His son Raoula, about eight years old, evinced the greatest dispositions. His attainments were far above his age, and often elicited the admiration of the Rahans. On a certain occasion Buddha overheard them expressing their astonishment at the surprising progress Raoula was making in his studies. Coming among them as if perchance, Phra asked them what was the subject of their conversation. They answered that they were praising and extolling the wonderful abilities of Raoula, and his matchless good dispositions. Thereupon Buddha remarked that this was not to be wondered at. Then he related to them the dzat Miga, by which he showed to them that during former existences Raoula had distinguished himself in a conspicuous manner by his excellent and admirable dispositions. As a reward for his good behaviour and high mental qualifications, he was made Patzin. His mind continuing to expand in an almost miraculous manner, he became a Rahanda with myriads of Nats.

During the same season, Buddha often went to Radzagio to beg his food. There was in that city a flower-seller, who was wont to bring eight bouquets every day to the king, and receive in return from the royal hands eight pieces of silver. On a certain day, as he was coming from the country into the town with his usual supply of flowers for the king, he happened to see Buddha in the streets at a moment when, by a miraculous display of his power, the six glories beamed out of his body. He then said to himself: "I wish to go and offer these flowers to Buddha. But the king will doubtless be much angry with me. He may have me arrested, thrown into prison, and put to death for having failed in offering him the usual present. Despite the great danger that hangs over me, I will go to Buddha and offer him my flowers. Great, indeed, and lasting shall be the merits I will gain; they will follow me during countless existences."

With a heart full of joy, Thoomana, for such is his name, went to the resting-place where Buddha was seated, surrounded by crowds of people, and laid the flowers at his feet. With a marked satisfaction, Gaudama accepted the offer. Thoomana went home and related to his wife what had just happened. The latter, irritated partly by the fear of the king's wrath, and partly by the loss of the money she daily received, began to abuse her husband in the coarsest language. She was so much maddened by passion that she in all haste went to the king, denounced her husband, and instantly sued for a divorce. Pimpathara revolted at such an act of unparalleled audacity, ordered her to withdraw from his presence and go back to her house. Meanwhile he commanded one of his courtiers to order the flower-seller to come to the palace on the following day. As a matter of course, the royal request was punctually complied with. In the presence of the assembled courtiers, the king highly praised the conduct of Thoomana, and instantly rewarded him with great liberality. As Thoomana had offered to Buddha eight bunches of flowers, the king, to acknowledge in a distinct manner such an offering, gave him eight elephants, eight horses, eight slaves, eight bullocks, eight thousand pieces of silver, and the revenue of eight villages. Buddha likewise exceedingly extolled the meritorious behaviour of Thoomana in the presence of the people, and said that during a whole world he would be exempt from the four states of punishment, enjoy happiness in the seat of man and in those of Nats, and finally become a Pitzega-buddha. The value of the offering, though little in itself, became great by the imminent risks he voluntarily exposed himself to. He made his offering, though he was certain of incurring on that account the ruler's displeasure.

When the season of retirement was over, Gaudama travelled through different places. He went to Patzanawonta in the Dzetia country, thence he passed into the Bisakila forest, and returned to Radzagio, in the grove of Yin-daik trees, near the burial-place.

Whilst Buddha was in the splendid Dzetawon monastery, just presented to him, a strong temptation came upon Ananda to renounce his calling and return into the world. He went so far as to tell some of his brethren that he recollected the promise of a prompt return which he made to his young bride Dzanapada-kaliani, and that now he wished to fulfil it by immediately going back into his palace, and resuming his former mode of life. This was soon reported to Gaudama, who resorted to the following expedient to crush in the bud the rising temptation. He took Ananda by the arm, rose with him in the air, and led him in the direction of the Nats' seat of Tawadeintha. On their way, Buddha, by a miraculous process, exhibited to the eyes of his companion the sight of an immense forest in conflagration. On the burnt stump of a tree he showed him a female monkey horribly mutilated, having her tail, ears, and nose cut off. At such a sight the horrified Ananda turned away his eyes in disgust. A little while after this, Buddha exhibited before him the dazzling and heart-captivating sight of a long array of five hundred matchless beauties. They were daughters of Nats going to pay their respects to the great Thagia. Ananda was gazing at them with silent but enraptured feelings. Buddha said to him: "Do you believe those beauties before you to be equal to Dzanapada?" "She is no more to these perfect forms," answered he, "than the bleeding female monkey we have left behind us is to her." "All these celestial damsels," said Buddha, "I shall give to you, provided you agree to remain in the monastery for some years longer." "Willingly do I accept the proposal," replied Ananda; "I will stay cheerfully in the monastery on such favourable terms." Whereupon both returned to the monastery.

* * * * *

The members of the assembly soon became acquainted with what had passed between the master and the disciple, and keenly taunted Ananda with their sarcastic remarks upon the daughters of Nats. Ashamed of himself, Ananda withdrew into solitude. There he devoted himself to reflection and penitential deeds, and finally annihilated the evil desires of his unsubdued passion. When the inward struggle was over and peace had been restored in him, Ananda went to Buddha's presence, and stated his willingness to dwell for ever in a monastery and lead a religious life. Meantime he released him from the promise he had made to him respecting the celestial beauties. Buddha was much pleased at such a happy change. He said to the assembled religious: "Previous to this occurrence, Ananda resembled a badly-roofed house, which lets in the rain of passions; but now it is similar to a well-roofed building, which is so well protected that it is proof against the oozing of passions." Whereupon he related the following story concerning a former existence of Ananda.

A merchant named Kappaka had a donkey which he used to carry goods from place to place. Having one day come near a place covered with trees, Kappaka unloaded his animal, to allow him some time to rest and graze. Meanwhile, a female donkey was likewise grazing in the neighbourhood. Its presence was quickly detected by Kappaka's animal. When the moment of departure had come, the latter, attracted by the female, kicked furiously at his master, and would not allow the load to be replaced on its back. The merchant, enraged at this unusual freak, began to threaten the rebellious beast, and then to hit it with the whip as hard as he could. At last the poor animal, unable to bear any longer the blows, mentioned to his master the cause of his unusual behaviour. Kappaka told him that if he would but continue his voyage, he would give him at the end of the journey several fine females, much superior to the one he was now coveting. The proposal was accepted. At the end of the journey Kappaka said to the beast: "I will keep my promise with you: but I must inform you that your daily provender shall not be increased; you will have to share it with your companion. Subsequently you will have little ones to provide for and maintain, but your daily ration shall not be increased in the least; you shall have to work for me as much as you do at present, and also to provide for the maintenance and support of your family." The donkey, after a few moments of reflection, thought it was better to remain as he was; and from that moment he was entirely cured of his inordinate inclination. At the conclusion of the narration, Buddha said: "The male donkey was he who has now become Ananda; the female donkey, Dzanapa-kaliani; and Kappaka is now the most excellent Phra, who is the teacher of men, Nats and Brahmas."

Buddha, whilst at Wethalie, went out through the country, and in all the places that he visited preached to the crowds of hearers. It was during one of his benevolent errands that he met with a celebrated Pounha, named Eggidatta, who with a great many disciples led an ascetic life, after having been formerly, first, the chief Pounha of King Kothala, and next of his son. Buddha earnestly desired the conversion of so distinguished a personage. Maukalan was at first despatched to that famous hermit, to attempt to bring him over to his master; but he utterly failed. The reception he at first met with was anything but pleasant. The work was to be done and perfected only by the irresistible eloquence of the great preacher. Buddha soon came up to the entrance of Eggidatta's cell. He began to upbraid the Rathee for teaching his disciples to worship mountains, trees, rivers, and all that exists in nature. He then initiated him in the knowledge of the four great truths. Eggidatta, seeing the truth, at once became a convert with all his disciples. When this great spiritual conquest was achieved, Buddha returned to Radzagio, and spent the third season in the Weloowon or bamboo-grove monastery. It was during the three months of the rainy season that Buddha imparted, in a more complete manner, to his disciples the knowledge and science which during his peregrinations he had but superficially conveyed to them. At the same time, he carefully trained them up in the practice and observance of those disciplinary regulations which were intended as a means to subdue passions, to estrange them from the world and all its attractions, and to lead a spiritual life.

During his stay in the monastery, among the many instructions that he gave to his disciples, I will relate the particulars that he mentioned respecting the former doings and the final conversion of the Rahanda Tsampooka.[10]

In the days of the Buddha Kathaba, Tsampooka, or rather the being who in the present existence is called by that name, put on the religious dress in the Thawatie country. He lived in a fine monastery, and had for his supporters the best and richest people of the place. One day, a Rahan, belonging to another country, came to his monastery and begged the favour to be allowed to live therein for some time. The heartless Tsampooka denied him admittance into the interior of the building, but tolerated his staying in the verandah during the cold season. The people, however, actuated by better feelings than those of their teacher, brought regularly food for the head of the house, as well as for the stranger, for whom they felt great affection. The spiteful Tsampooka could not bear to see the people showing marks of kindness and benevolence towards his hated guest. On one occasion he forgot himself so far as to abuse him, by repeating the following coarse expressions: Eat dirt, go naked, and sleep on the bare ground. Such an inhuman behaviour soon met with a condign punishment. The wretched Tsampooka had at first to endure horrible torments in hell.

On his return to the seat of man on earth, he was born from respectable parents, but he was always prone from his infancy to indulge in the lowest habits. He would secretly steal away, and actually satiate the cravings of hunger by eating the most disgusting things; he would not wear clothing, but ran about in a state of nakedness; he would only sleep on the ground. His parents, after many fruitless attempts to correct him, resolved to make him over to the heterodox ascetics. These received him; but he would not eat in the company of his brethren, nor go to beg with them. He, from the moment they were absent, went to devour the refuse he could find. His eccentric and disgusting habits were soon found out, and his new friends said one to the other: "Let this man be no longer allowed to live with us. Should the disciples of the Rahan Gaudama hear that one of our company is behaving in such a manner, our brotherhood would become a laughing-stock to them." He was, therefore, expelled from this place. Tsampooka went to take his abode on a rock near the place that served as receptacle to the sewers of Radzagio. On that rock he remained in the most fatiguing posture; he leaned on his right hand which rested on the rock, and also on his right knee; the left leg was stretched and the left arm raised up. He kept his mouth opened. When the people asked him why he remained with his mouth wide open, as a man who is incessantly drawing air into his lungs, he answered that, refraining from the use of coarse food, he was feeding on air only: when questioned about the singular position of his two legs, he answered, that, were he to stand on both legs, the earth would instantly shake. He had been during fifty-five years in that sad position, when Gaudama, moved with compassion at his pitiable condition, went in person to convert him. He began to relate to him all that he had done during former existences, mentioning in particular the sin he had been guilty of towards a brother hermit. At this unexpected declaration, Tsampooka humbled himself. Buddha then preached to him his law. The repenting Tsampooka firmly believed in all that was said to him. He then rose up, and, with a heart overflowing with joy, instantly left his place, followed his new master, and soon became a Rahanda. His proficiency in science and virtue was such that he soon occupied a distinguished rank among the members of the assembly.

FOOTNOTES

[1] In glancing over the episode of Thoodaudana's deputation to
his son, to invite him to come and visit his native country, the
reader is almost compelled to confess that the motive that
influenced the king was only inspired by the natural feeling of
beholding once more, before he died, him whose fame, spread far
and wide, rendered him an object of universal admiration. Was
the monarch induced by considerations of a higher order to send
for Buddha? There is no distinct proof in support of this
supposition. He was his father, and he but obeyed and followed
the impulse of his paternal heart. He entertained a high sense
of his son's distinguished qualifications. He had faith in the
wonderful signs foretelling his future matchless greatness. He
desired, therefore, to honour him in an extraordinary way, on
the very spot where he had been born. But he appeared to concern
himself very little about the doctrines he was preaching with a
success never before equalled. The king exhibited a great amount
of worldly-mindedness, until his mind had been enlightened by
the oral instructions of the great reformer.

It is difficult, if not impossible, to form an accurate idea of
the effect produced on the mass of the people by Buddha's
preachings. We see that eminent and zealous reformer surrounded
by thousands of distinguished disciples in the country of
Radzagio. These converts belonged chiefly to the class of
anchorites and philosophers, already alluded to in foregoing
notes as existing at the time Buddha began to enter the career
of preaching. But the great bulk of the populations of the
various places he visited seemed to have received for a long
time little or no impressions from his discourses. The opponents
of Buddha, the Brahmins in particular, exercised a powerful
influence over the public mind. They used it most effectually
for retaining their ancient hold over the masses. It required
the extraordinary display of the greatest wonders to break
through the almost insuperable barriers raised by his enemies.
From that period we see the people following Buddha, crowding
round him, and showing unmistakable signs of belief in him.

The only explanation to account for this undeniable result is
the philosophical method adopted by Buddha in expounding the
principles of his system. His mode of proceeding in the gradual
development of his ideas retained the abstruseness peculiar to
subjects discussed in schools of philosophy. The technical terms
so familiar to scholars prove enigmatical to the uninitiated
_vulgus_. It takes a long time before maxims elaborated by
scholars are so far popularised as to be understood by the
unlearned, which in every age and country have always
constituted the great mass of the people. If the mind of the
generality of men is unable to comprehend at first a system of
doctrines, based on metaphysics, we cannot wonder at the slow
progress made by the preachings of the great philosopher: but
the working of wonders is a tangible fact operating upon the
senses of the multitude, eliciting their applauses, and
disposing them to yield an implicit faith to all the
instructions imparted by the wonderful being that is gifted with
supernatural powers. Feelings, and not reason, become the
foundation of a belief which grows stronger in proportion to the
mysterious obscurity that encompasses the proposed dogmas, when
supported by wonderful deeds.

At the time Thoodaudana sent messengers to his son, the great
work of conversion was carried on with a most complete and
hitherto unheard-of success. The hall of the Weloowon monastery
was too small for the thousands that flocked thither to hear
Gaudama. Outside its precincts, crowds stood motionless,
listening with unabated attention to the discourses that fell
from his lips. So crowded was the audience that the messengers
had no chance to make their way to the presence of the preacher.
Struck with the intense attention paid to what was said by their
master's son, they too wished to make themselves acquainted with
the subjects of the instruction. What was listened to from
motives of mere curiosity, soon made a deep impression upon
their mind. The magic power of the irresistible eloquence of
Buddha worked a thorough change almost instantaneously in their
dispositions, and they became converts. So perfect was their
conversion, that they forgot for the sake of truth the very
object of their mission. They became at once members of the
Assembly, and took rank among the Rahans. They attained the
state of Ariahs, and were foremost among the perfect. The great
attainments arrived at by the Ariahs communicate to the material
portion of their being such an extraordinary amount of amazing
virtues or properties, that it becomes so refined as to partake,
to a certain degree, of a spiritual nature. Hence we see the
Rahandas going over immense distances through the air, and
performing deeds of a supernatural order. The power of working
miracles is, therefore, inherent in perfection; and it is
greater or smaller in proportion to the degree of perfection
possessed by individuals. We find that power expanded in Buddha
to an unlimited extent, because his mental attainments were
boundless.

[2] Magatha is a country in the north of India. It occupied
nearly the same extent of territory as that now called North
Behar in Bengal. The Pali or sacred language of the southern
Buddhists is often called the language of Magatha. Hence we may
infer that it was the common language of that country. It is
probable that the Pali language was extensively spoken in the
days of Gaudama, and it was the channel through which he and his
disciples long after him conveyed their religious instructions
to the multitude of converts. The Pitagat, or the last amended
collection of sacred writings, is written in Pali, which is
looked upon in Ceylon, Nepaul, Burmah, and Siam as the language
of sacred literature. Except in some old manuscripts, where the
old square Pali letters are used, the Burmese employ their
common alphabetic characters for writing Pali words. The words,
having to pass first through a Burmese ear, and next being
expressed by Burmese letters, undergo great changes. To such an
extent does the metamorphosis reach, that very often they are
scarcely recognisable. The Burmans, however, deserve great
credit for having, in very many instances, retained in their
orthography of Pali words letters which, though not at all
sounded, indicate to the eye the nature of the word, its origin,
and its primitive form.

In the southern parts of Burmah the Pali language is learned but
not studied, used, but not understood by the inmates of
monasteries. They are all obliged to learn certain formulas of
prayers to be daily recited in private, and, on great and solemn
occasions, to be chanted aloud in the presence of a crowd of
pious hearers. The writer, anxious to acquire some knowledge of
the sacred language, often visited those monks, who, among their
brethren, enjoyed a certain fame for learning, with the express
intention of becoming a humble student, under the direction of
one of the best informed of the society. He was thoroughly
disappointed to find those who proffered their services in great
earnest quite ignorant, and utterly incapable of giving him the
least assistance.

The Burmese have translated in their vernacular tongue most of
the sacred writings. In many instances the translation is not
exactly what we call interlineary, but it approaches to it as
nearly as possible. Two, three, or four Pali words are written
down, and the translation in Burmese follows with a profusion of
words which often confuses and perplexes the reader; then come
again a few other Pali words, accompanied also with the
translation, and so on throughout the whole work. The art of
translating well and correctly from one language into another is
not so common as many persons may imagine. In a good translator
are required many qualifications which are not to be easily met
with, particularly in a Burman, to whom we may give credit for
knowing well his own tongue, but who, without detracting from
his literary attainments, is certainly an indifferent Pali
scholar. These translations may convey, perhaps, the general
meaning of the original, but, as regards the correct meaning of
each term, it is a luxury ever denied to the reader of such
crude and imperfect compositions.

[3] It is difficult to ascertain exactly the length of the
measure called youdzana, formerly used to indicate land
distances. It varies from five to twelve English miles. In
measuring the distance from Radzagio to the Brahmin village of
Nalanda, the birthplace of Thariputra, which is one youdzana,
General Cunningham has found it to be seven miles. This would
induce us to hold as certain that at the epoch when Fa-Hian
visited the place, the youdzana was equal to seven miles or
forty Chinese _li_. But this would not prove that the more
ancient youdzana was not shorter than the one used in the time
of the Chinese pilgrim. Several authors maintain that such is
the case. It appears, likewise, that the length of that measure
of distance has varied with localities and places to such an
extent that it has been found in some countries to be equal to
more than twelve miles. We believe that when that measure of
distance is mentioned in this work, one would not be far from
the truth in estimating its length six or seven English miles at
the utmost.

[4] The attentive reader of this work cannot fail to remark the
general tendencies of Buddhism to isolation, retirement, and
solitude. In a retired position, the mind is less distracted or
dissipated by exterior objects; it possesses a greater share of
self-control, and is fitter for the arduous work of attentive
reflection and deep meditation. Whenever Buddha, attended by his
followers, reaches a place where he is to stay for a while, a
grove outside the city is invariably selected. Thither the great
preacher retires, as to a beloved solitude. He enjoys it beyond
all that can be said. Alone with his spiritual family,
unconcerned about the affairs of this world, he breathes at ease
the pure atmosphere of a complete calm; his undisturbed soul
soars freely in the boundless regions of spiritualism. What he
has seen and discovered during his contemplative errands he
imparts with a placid countenance and a mild voice to his
disciples, endeavouring thereby to make them progress in the way
of knowledge and perfection.

In those solitary abodes of peace Buddha was willing to receive
all those who wished for instruction. They were all, without
distinction of rank or caste, admitted into the presence of him
who came professedly to point to men the way to happiness,
helping them to disentangle themselves from the trammels of
passions. He preached to all the most excellent law. The
tendency to retreat and withdrawal from worldly tumult is, in
our own days, conspicuous in the care taken by Buddhistic monks
to have their houses built in some lonely quarter of a town,
assigned exclusively for that special purpose, or, as is oftener
the case, in fine places at a small distance from the walls.
Some of those groves, in the centre of which rise the peaceful
abodes of Rahans, the writer has often seen and much admired. In
towns or large villages, where the ground is uneven, the small
heights are generally crowned with the dwellings of religious.

[5] The narrative of Buddha's reception in his father's royal
city suggests two reflections. The first is, that the saying
_Nemo Propheta in sua patria_ was as true in the days of Gaudama
as it has been in subsequent ages. The mountains of Kapilawot
had often re-echoed the praises of Buddha and the recital of his
wonderful doings. The splendid retinue of twenty thousand
distinguished converts that attended his person, the hitherto
unwitnessed display of miraculous powers, &c.,--all these
peculiarly remarkable circumstances seemed more than sufficient
to secure for him a distinguished reception among his kinsmen,
who ought to have been proud of being connected with him by the
ties of relationship. Such, however, was not the case. Actuated
by the lowest feelings of base jealousy, his relatives refused
to pay him the respect he was so well entitled to. Their
wretched obduracy was to be conquered by the awe and fear his
miraculous power inspired.

The second reflection suggested by the recital of the ceremonies
observed on the occasion of Buddha's reception in his native
country is the truly pleasing fact of seeing the weaker sex
appearing in public divested of the shackles put upon it by
oriental jealousy. In Burmah and Siam the doctrines of Buddhism
have produced a striking, and, to the lover of true
civilisation, a most interesting result, viz., established the
almost complete equality of the condition of women with that of
men. In those countries women are not miserably confined in the
interior of their houses, without the remotest chance of ever
appearing in public. They are seen circulating freely in the
streets; they preside at the _comptoirs_, and hold an almost
exclusive possession of the bazaars. Their social position is
more elevated in every respect than that of the persons of their
sex in the regions where Buddhism is not the predominating
creed. They may be said to be men's companions, and not their
slaves. They are active, industrious, and by their labours and
exertions contribute their full share towards the maintenance of
the family. The marital rights, however, are fully acknowledged
by a respectful behaviour towards their lords. In spite of all
that has been said by superficial observers, I feel convinced
that manners are less corrupted in those countries where women
enjoy liberty, than in those where they are buried alive by a
barbarous and despotic custom in the grave of an opprobrious and
vice-generating slavery. Buddhism disapproves of polygamy, but
it tolerates divorce. In this respect the habits of the people
are of a damnable laxity. Polygamy is very rare in Burmah among
the people. This nefarious and anti-social practice is left to
the magnates of the land, from the king down to a petty myowon,
who make a part of their greatness consist in placing themselves
above public opinion, above moral and religious precepts, for
enjoying the unrestrained gratification of the basest appetite.
Though divorce be a thing of common occurrence, it is looked
upon as an imperfection, merely tolerated for the sake of human
frailty.

[6] Buddhist monks, out of humility and contempt for all worldly
things, do not allow hairs or beard to grow. They walk
barefooted, wearing a yellow dress of the simplest make. They
are bound to live on the alms that are freely bestowed upon
them. The regulations of the Wini are, in this respect, most
explicit, and leave no room for false interpretation. A Rahan,
having renounced the world, and divested himself of all worldly
property, is bound by his professional vows to rely for his
daily food on what he may obtain by begging. Hence the
appellatio of Bickus, or mendicants, always bestowed on them by
Gaudama, whenever he addresses them in particular on certain
points regarding their profession. In Burmah, as soon as the day
begins to dawn, a swarm of yellow-dressed monks sally forth from
their abode with the patta under the left arm, and perambulate
the streets in quest of food. They never ask for anything; they
accept what is voluntarily tendered to them, without uttering a
single word of thanks, or even looking at their generous
benefactors. This action of bestowing alms on the Rahans is
deemed a most meritorious one. The offerer, therefore, becomes
liberal, not on account of the person he is assisting, but
because of the abundant merits he hopes to derive from the act.
This notion agrees very well with the leading tenets of
Buddhism.

[7] The answer of Buddha to his royal father is a most
remarkable one, and deserves the attention of the observer. The
great moralist does away with all the prerogatives man may
derive from birth, rank, and riches. Law alone can confer titles
of true greatness and genuine nobility. The fervent and zealous
observers of the law are alone entitled to the respect of their
fellow-men. The begging of alms may be, in the eyes of
worldlings, a low and mean action, but it becomes a most
dignified one, because it is enforced by the law. This lofty
principle boldly establishes the superiority of virtue upon the
strongest basis, and sanctions the moral code he was destined to
publish to men and saddle on their conscience. The criterion of
all that is good, excellent, praiseworthy, and meritorious is no
more to depend on the arbitrary and very often erroneous views
of men, but must rest upon the immutable tenets of the eternal
law, discovered, revived, and published by the omniscient
Buddha. This truth, like a flash of light, illuminated the
king's mind, and, at this first preaching of his son, he
attained the first of the four states of perfection.

The princes Thamadat and Thoodaudana boast to have descended
from are, according to Buddhistic sacred books, the princes who
were elected to hold supreme power at the very moment the words
_mine_ and _thine_ began to be heard amongst men, after they had
eaten the rice called Tsale, and become subject to passions,
that is to say, at the origin of society, in the beginning of
the world. The kings of Burmah, down to the present occupant of
the throne, who are descended, in their opinion, from the
Kapilawot line of kings, lay claim to the same distinction. The
writer has heard the present King of Burmah very coolly stating
as a matter of fact, which no one could think of contradicting,
that he was descended from the Thamadat's royal line.

The Princess Yathaudara, mentioned in this narrative, had been
the wife of Buddha, ere he had withdrawn into solitude and
renounced the world. A son had just been born to him when he
left his father's palace. His name was Raoula. The doctrine of
the influence of merits gathered during former existences is
forcibly illustrated in the case of Yathaudara, who, unmindful
of the position she occupied in former years, did not hesitate
to fling herself at Buddha's feet, acknowledging him to be
worthy of all honour and veneration. Her former merits disposed
her to view in him, who had been her husband, the extraordinary
personage who was to lead men through the path of virtue to the
deliverance.

[8] Nanda was Buddha's younger brother, or rather half-brother.
His mother was Patzapati, the younger sister of Maia. Since
Buddha had renounced the world, Nanda had become the presumptive
heir to the crown of Kapilawot. His conversion grieved the king
much, who, to prevent the recurrence of such an event, exacted
from the great reformer that in after times no one could be
admitted into the society of the perfect, without having
previously obtained the consent of his parents; failing such a
condition, the act of admission should be considered as null and
void. Hence, we read in the book of ordination, or admittance to
the dignity of Rahan, that the person directed by the president
of the assembly to examine the candidate never omits to inquire
of him whether he has obtained the consent of his parents.

The conversion of Raoula followed that of Nanda. Of this new and
distinguished convert no mention is made afterwards in the
course of this work. He must, in all likelihood, have become a
celebrated member of the assembly, as he was trained up to the
functions and duties of his profession by the greatest and most
renowned disciples, such as Maukalan, Thariputra, and Kathaba.

In the history of Buddhism, the Dzetawon monastery is not
inferior in celebrity to that of Weloowon. Therein Gaudama
announced during a certain night the thirty-six beatitudes of
the law to a Nat that had come and requested him to make him
acquainted with the most perfect points of his law. In the
division of the scriptures called Thoots, or sermons, we see
that the most important have been delivered in the hall of that
monastery.

Here is another instance of a donation of landed property to a
religious corporation. In the first case, the gift had been made
to him and to his actual followers. But in this circumstance,
Phra desires the rich and pious benefactor to make the donation,
not only in behalf of self and the present assembly, but also in
that of all future members, who might resort to this place. In a
Buddhistic point of view, we may conclude that the advice given
to the donor was intended as a means of multiplying the sum of
the merits of his liberality, which must be commensurate with
the number of the individuals to whom it is designed to be
extended.

According to the principle respecting property, which from
immemorial time has prevailed under almost all despotic
governments in Asia, which recognises the head of the state as
the sole, real, and absolute owner of the soil, it is evident
that the act of donation was, legally speaking, a declaration or
a statement of the disposal an individual made of the rights
such as he had them, viz., those of use, in favour of a
religious body. The landed property, thus conferred, acquired a
kind of sacredness which preserved it from the grasp of even the
most rapacious ruler. On the other hand, the religious body had
no right or power whatsoever to sell or dispose of that
property. In a corporation constituted as the assembly of the
disciples of Buddha was, and is in our own days, the society
alone could have the possession and management of immovable
properties given to monasteries. Donations of this kind must
have stood good as long as there were members of the Buddhistic
religious family willing and ready to maintain their rights.
Nothing short of a complete revolution in the political state of
the country, or the prolonged absence of the individuals vested
with the right of occupation, could put an end to the effect of
those deeds of donation. In Burmah, the Buddhist monks possess
nothing beyond the ground upon which stands the monastery. From
certain inscriptions found in the midst of the ruins of the
temples at Pagan, it is evident that in the palmy days of that
city donations of landed properties, such as paddy-fields,
fruit-trees, bullocks, and peasants, were made to monasteries
and temples. But for the last three or four hundred years, no
vestiges of such deeds have ever been found. So far as I have
been able to make inquiries, I am not aware that the order has
ever become possessor of lands. In Ceylon such is not the case,
at least was not when the English occupied the island. Extensive
tracts of valuable lands were in the hands of the Talapoins, who
thereby obtained over the people the twofold influence conferred
by wealth and religion.

[9] Ananda, whose conversion is here mentioned, was the son of
Amitaudana, a brother of King Thoodaudana, and, therefore, first
cousin to Gaudama. He is one of the best known disciples of the
celebrated philosopher of Kapilawot. He has gained his
well-earned fame, less by the shining attainments of his
intellect than by the amiable qualities of a loving heart. He
bore to Buddha the most affectionate regard and the warmest
attachment from the very beginning of his conversion. The master
repaid the love of the disciple by tokens of a sincere esteem
and tender affection. Though it was a long period afterwards ere
Ananda was officially appointed to minister unto the personal
wants of Buddha, yet the good dispositions of his excellent
heart prompted him to serve Buddha on all occasions, and in
every way that was agreeable to him. He became the medium of
intercourse between his beloved master and all those that
approached him. When he had to communicate orders or give
directions to the religious, or when some visitors desired to
wait on him, Ananda was the person who transmitted all orders,
and ushered visitors into the presence of the great preacher.

Dewadat was both first cousin to Buddha and his brother-in-law.
His father was Thouppabudha, Maia's brother. He was brother of
the Princess Yathaudara, who had married our Gaudama, when he
was crown prince of Kapilawot. Hereafter, we shall have the
opportunity of seeing that his moral dispositions were very
different from those of the amiable Ananda.

[10] The story of Eggidatta gives us an insight into one of the
tenets which was held by that ascetic. His interlocutor
reproached him with worshipping mountains, trees, forests,
rivers, and the heavenly bodies. From the expressions made use
of by the Burmese translator, the writer is inclined to believe
that a direct allusion is made to pantheistic opinions. We know
that most of the Indian schools of philosophy have based their
various systems of metaphysics upon that most erroneous
foundation. According to pantheists, this world is not distinct
from the essence of God; all that exists is but a manifestation
or a development of the substance of God. This world is not the
work of God, existing as distinct from its Maker, but it is God
manifesting Himself substantially in all things. Who could,
then, wonder at the conduct of Tsampooka? He worshipped God, or
rather that portion of the supreme Being he saw in the great and
mighty subjects that surrounded him and attracted his notice.

Spinoza, in the seventeenth century, and his unfortunately too
numerous followers in this century, have recast into a hundred
different moulds the pantheistic ideas of the Hindu
philosophers, and offer to the intelligence of their hearers and
readers, through an almost unintelligible language, the same
deadly food which has finally produced on the Hindu mind the sad
results which we witness. If we were better acquainted with the
variety of doctrines which the Hindu philosophers have exhibited
in the field of metaphysics, we would be soon convinced that the
modern metaphysicians, who have placed themselves out of the
pale of revelation, have not advanced one step in that science,
and that the divergence in their opinions is but a faithful
representation of the confusion which for more than two thousand
years prevailed on the banks of the Ganges among their
predecessors in the same speculative studies.

It appears that Tsampooka was in his days what the Jogies or
Hindoo penitents are up to our time. He remained on his rock, in
the most difficult position, for the space of fifty-five years,
exhibiting himself to the crowd, and aiming at winning their
admiration by the incredible sufferings that he voluntarily
submitted to. His apparent sanctity was made up of very doubtful
materials. He passed himself off for a man who could remain
without eating, and who was gifted with supernatural powers.
Plain humility, which is nothing but the result of the true
knowledge of self, was not the favourite virtue of our spiritual
quack.