Chapter IX

_A rich man of Thawattie, named Anatapein, becomes a convert --
Story of Dzewaha -- He cures Buddha of a painful distemper --
The people of Wethalie send a deputation to Buddha -- Digression
on the manner Buddha daily spent his time -- Settling of a
quarrel between the inhabitants of Kaulia and those of Kapilawot
-- New converts are strengthened in their faith -- Thoodaudana's
death in the arms of his son -- Queen Patzapati and many noble
ladies are elevated to the rank of Rahaness -- Conversion of
Kema, the first queen of King Pimpathara -- Heretics near
Thawattie are confounded by the display of miraculous powers --
Buddha goes to the seat of Thawadeintha, to preach the law to
his mother._

When Buddha was in the country of Radzagio, a certain rich merchant, named Anatapein, came to Radzagio, with five hundred carts loaded with the most precious goods, and took his lodging in the house of an intimate friend. Whilst living with his friend, he heard that Gaudama had become a Buddha. Suddenly, he was seized with an earnest desire of seeing him and hearing his doctrine. On a certain day, he rose at an early hour, and perceived, reflected through the lattices of the window, some rays of an uncommon brightness. He went in the direction of the light to the place where Buddha was preaching the law. He listened to it with great attention, and, at the end of the discourse, he obtained the state of Thautapan. Two days after, he made a great offering to Buddha and to the assembly, and requested him to come to the country of Thawattie. The request was granted. The distance to Thawattie is forty-five youdzanas. Anatapein spent enormous sums that one monastery should be erected at each youdzana distance. When Buddha was approaching, the pious merchant arranged as follows for the reception of the distinguished visitor, and presenting to him a splendid monastery called Dzetawon, which he had made ready for him. He sent first his son, richly attired, with five hundred followers, belonging to the richest families; then followed his two daughters with five hundred girls, all decked with the most costly ornaments. Every one carried flags of five different colours. These were followed by five hundred dames, having the rich man's wife at their head, each carrying a pitcher of water. Last of all, came Anatapein, with five hundred followers, all wearing new dresses. Gaudama let the crowd walk in front, and he followed attended by all the Rahans. When he entered the grove, he appeared as beautiful as the peacock's tail when completely expanded. Anatapein asked Gaudama how he wished the donation should be made and effected? "Let the monastery be offered," said Buddha, "to all the Rahans that may come in future to this place from what quarter soever." Thereupon, the rich man, holding a golden vessel of water, poured its contents on the hands of Buddha, saying: "I present this monastery to Buddha and to all the Rahans that may come hereafter to reside therein." Buddha said prayers and thanks in token of his accepting the offering. Seven days were devoted to making this great offering, and during four months uninterrupted rejoicings went on in commemoration of this great and solemn donation. For the purchase of the place, and the expenses of the ceremony, enormous sums were lavished. During the era of former Buddhas this very place had always been purchased and offered to them and their disciples.

[_N.B._--Here is found narrated in full the history of a celebrated physician named Dzewaka. As such story has no reference whatever to Buddha's career, I will give but a very succinct account of it.]

At a certain time,[1] when Buddha lived in the city of Radzagio, the country of Wethalie was made rich, gay, and attractive by the presence of a famous courtesan. A nobleman of Radzagio, who had just returned from that country, narrated to the king all that he had seen at Wethalie, and induced the monarch to set up, in his own kingdom, some famous courtesan, who would be skilful in music and dancing, as well as attractive by the form and accomplishments of her person. Such a person having been procured, she was, by the munificence of the king, placed on a most splendid footing, and one hundred pieces of silver were to be paid for each evening's visit. The king's son being rather assiduous in his visits to her place, she became pregnant. Aware of her state, the courtesan affected to be sick until her confinement. She directed her servant to throw out the newly-born infant, on a heap of rubbish, in some lonely and distant place. The next morning the king's son, going out with some attendants, chanced to pass close to the spot where the infant had been deposited. His attention having been attracted by the noise of crows hovering close by, he went to see what it was. To his great surprise, he saw an infant, yet breathing, half buried in rubbish. Taken with the beauty of this little creature, the prince ordered the child to be carried to the palace, where he was brought up with the greatest care and attention. He was named Dzewaka, which means life, because the prince, when he found him, inquired if he was alive. The young lad, having reached the years of discretion, was unwilling to remain in the palace, not occupied with any business. In order to afford relief and comfort to his fellow-creatures, he resolved to study medicine. He repaired to Benares, placed himself under the direction of a famous physician, and soon became eminent by his extreme proficiency in the profession. Having left his master, and begun practice in his own name and for his own account, Dzewaka worked the most wonderful cures, which soon procured to him unbounded wealth and an extraordinary reputation.

Dzewaka was at the height of his fame, when, on a certain day, Buddha happened to be troubled with bellyache. He called Ananda and said that he wanted some medicine to relieve him from pain. Ananda went to the place where lived the celebrated Dzewaka, and informed him of Buddha's complaint. The doctor ordered first a rubbing of oil, which was to be repeated three days after. This remedy not having a full effect, Dzewaka took three lily flowers, whereupon he spread several powders, and came to Buddha, saying, "Most glorious Phra, here is one lily flower, please to smell it; this will be followed by ten motions. Here is a second one; the smelling thereof will produce a similar effect; and this one will cause the same result." Having handed over the three flowers, the doctor paid his respects to Buddha, turned to the right, and left the monastery.

When he was crossing the gate, he thought within himself, "I have given a medicine calculated to cause thirty motions, but as the complaint is rather of a serious and obstinate character, twenty-nine motions only will take place; a warm bath would be required to produce the thirtieth;" and with this reflection he departed. Buddha, who saw all that passed in the doctor's mind, called Ananda and directed him to prepare a warm bath. A little while after, Dzewaka came back to Buddha, and explained to him his prescription. Buddha was soon restored to his former health, and Dzewaka told him that the people were preparing to make him offerings. Maukalan went to the son of Thauna, a rich man, to get some rice from a field that had been watered with milk. The owner gave rice to Maukalan and urged him to partake of it, assuring him that there was some other in reserve for Buddha; Maukalan assented. After the meal, his patta was cleaned with perfumed water, and filled with the choicest food. Maukalan took it to Buddha, who ate it. Afterwards he preached the law to the king and to an immense crowd; amongst them was Thauna's son. They all obtained the first degree of perfection, but Thauna reached at once the state of Arahat.

Dzewaka came again to Buddha's presence, and requested the favour of presenting him with two splendid pieces of cloth, which he had received in present from a king whom he had cured of a most distressing distemper. Moreover, he wished that the Rahans should be allowed to receive clothes of a better sort than those they were wont to wear. Buddha received the two pieces and preached the law to the donor, who attained the state of Thautapan. Dzewaka, rising from his place, wheeled to the right and departed.

A little while after, Gaudama called the Rahans and said to them, "Beloved Bickus, now I give permission to the faithful to make offerings of cloth for your dress.[2] Whoever is pleased with his present dress, let him wear it; whoever is disposed to receive some other from the people, let him do so. But I must praise you for having hitherto been satisfied with the ancient dress." The people of the city having heard of the permission given to the Rahans, offered at once more than one hundred thousand pieces of cloth. Their example was followed by the people of the country, who made offerings to the same amount.

A little while after this, Buddha received a deputation from the Wethalie people, inviting him to visit their country. Here is the reason of the invitation. The country was very rich and flourishing. The Malla princes governed it each in turn for a certain space of time. On a sudden a terrific pestilence desolated the land, which was in a short time strewed with dead bodies in every direction. In the midst of so great a calamity some advised to propitiate the Nats, by making offerings to them; others said that recourse must be had to the great teachers; a third party insisted upon calling to their aid the great Gaudama, who had appeared in this world for the purpose of saving mankind. The last opinion prevailed. Having ascertained that he lived at Radzagio, a great number of princes, pounhas, and nobles went to Radzagio, with great presents for King Pimpathara, to induce him to allow the great teacher to come to their country. The object of their mission having become known, Buddha agreed to go. He sallied forth from the Weloowon monastery, attended by the king as far as the southern bank of the Ganges. Having reached the northern one, he was received with every possible mark of the highest respect and veneration. As soon as he set his feet in the country, a heavy rain fell which almost deluged the land. The water carried away the dead bodies. The atmosphere was purified, the pestilence ceased, and all the sick recovered. On the fifth day after the full moon of Nayon (June), Buddha having conferred such a favour to the people of Wethalie, left that country and returned to Radzagio, which he reached on the full moon of Watso (July), just in time to spend the fourth season in the Weloowon monastery.

Here is inserted a short sketch of the manner in which Buddha spent his days during the rainy season, as the translator has found in one of the manuscripts before him.

Each day was divided into five parts, and a certain occupation was reserved to each part. 1. Buddha generally rose at an early hour, a little after daybreak, washed his face, rinsed his mouth, and dressed. He then retired into a private apartment. With his all-seeing eyes, he glanced over all creatures, carefully examined the amount of their merits and demerits, and the real nature of their dispositions. The reason for his taking a survey of the state and condition of all beings was to ascertain the dispositions of the various beings, and discern those who were prepared to hear the preaching of truth from those who, on account of their demerits, were as yet unprepared for receiving beneficially for themselves such a great favour. When this was done, he put on his full canonical dress, and, with the mendicant's pot under his arm, he sallied forth in quest of his food. He invariably directed his steps towards those places where he knew that his preachings would be heard with beneficial results. Sometimes he went alone; at other times he was attended with a certain number of his disciples. His countenance bespoke an unaffected modesty and an inimitable mildness. Occasionally he allowed a display of wonders to take place. Musical instruments emitted, of themselves, sweet tunes, which, revealing to the people the coming of Buddha, rejoiced their heart and disposed them to bestow abundant alms, and to hear the preaching of the law. Some of the hearers became Upasakas, others Thautapans, &c., &c., agreeably to every one's disposition. Then he returned to his monastery.

2. As soon as he had arrived, he washed his feet, and during the ablution he had his disciples assembled round him, and said to them, "Beloved Bickus, be ever watchful and attentive, with a mind ever prone to reflection. It is exceedingly difficult to obtain the nature of man,[3] to hear the law, to become perfect, to obtain the state of Rahanda, and to arrive to the condition of a Buddha." He then pointed out to them some subjects of meditation. Many of the disciples devoted themselves to mental labour; some combined together manual and mental exertions; others withdrew to lonely places at the foot of certain trees, and into the caves of neighbouring hills. Buddha then took his meal, and retired for awhile alone into his own private apartment. When he arose a little after mid-day, he anew contemplated all beings, and fixed his attention on those that were to come and receive his instructions. He soon came out, and at once began to impart instructions to all those that had arrived, from what place soever. When the instruction was completed, the people withdrew.

3. After the people's departure, Buddha bathed and took a walk in the open verandah of the monastery. His mat, cushion, &c., were spread in a becoming and open place. The Rahans hastened at that hour to come and communicate freely the result of their mental exertions. When they wanted any explanation, they were encouraged to put him questions, which were instantly answered; and they received submissively the answers which he condescended to give to them. This exercise lasted until it was dark. The disciples retired from their master's presence.

4. After their departure, the Nats and other celestial beings were admitted. Buddha conversed with and instructed them until nearly midnight.

5. Buddha then walked awhile to relieve his limbs from extreme lassitude, and went into his apartment to take some rest. He rose very early, and began to review the beings who, during the days of former Buddhas, had distinguished themselves by their exertions in the path of virtue and in the high mental attainments.

During one of his usual benevolent errands through the country, Gaudama converted Ouggasena, his wife and companions. Here is an abridged narrative of that event. Ouggasena was the son of a rich man. In the time of his youth a company of comedians came to Radzagio and exhibited during seven days in the presence of King Pimpathara and his court. Our young man, along with many of his companions, attended the exhibition. On a sudden, he became passionately enamoured of a rope dancing-girl, who performed many feats with accomplished grace and uncommon address. Despite his parents' remonstrances and entreaties, he sacrificed to his ungoverned passion all considerations, and he married the damsel. In his new situation, he had no alternative but to learn the art of rope-dancing, tumbling feats, and standing in various attitudes on the extremity of posts or masts, sometimes sixty cubits high. During his noviciate, he had to bear the laughter and taunts of his wife and of his new friends. By dint of exertion he became proficient in the art of performing tumblers' feats with a surprising agility. One day it was announced at the sound of the drum that Ouggasena was to perform on the top of a post sixty cubits high. An immense crowd of citizens went out with great eagerness to see the performance. When the amusements had just begun, Buddha happened to pass by with a number of disciples. He desired Maukalan to go ahead, and begin to preach to Ouggasena. Soon he came up himself in person, and converted the juggler, who forthwith descended from his mast, prostrated himself before Buddha, and asked to be admitted as a member of the assembly. After further instructions he obtained the science of Rahanda. His wife and all the company became likewise converts.[4]

Buddha had now fulfilled the promise he had formerly made to the ruler of Radzagio, to spend three consecutive seasons in his royal city. He went over to the Wethalie country, and fixed his residence in a fine place, in the midst of a forest of sala-trees, called Mahawon. Whilst he enjoyed himself in that place, a quarrel took place between a portion of the people of Kappila and that of Kaulia, who lived on both banks of the little river Rauhani. The cause of the dispute was the irrigation of paddy-fields. The small river had been duly barred, but on account of an unusual drought there was not water enough to supply the quantity required for the fields on both banks. One party wanted to have all the water, the other demurred. Hence a dispute arose which, wildfire-like, spread from the banks of the stream all over both countries. A general appeal to arms ensued, and, in a short time, both armies stood facing each other in battle array.

At an early hour Buddha, having risen from his couch, cast, as usual, a glance over all beings. He soon saw the feud that existed between the country of his birth and that of Kaulia. Moved with compassion over the miseries which that people, blinded by a furious passion, were bringing upon themselves, he went through the air, and stood over and above the stream which separated the two armies. Rays of glory, beaming out of his person, soon attracted general attention. Both parties laid down their arms and prostrated themselves, worshipping him. He said to them, "Princes and warriors, hearken to my words. Which is the most valuable, a small quantity of water or the lives of countless beings, and, in particular, the lives of princes?" They answered, "Of course the lives of princes and warriors are most valuable." "If so," retorted Buddha, "lay aside your passion, conquer your anger, throw away your weapons of destruction, love each other, and live in peace." Both parties, by a low and prolonged tone of voice, expressed their deep regret at what they had done, and their sincere desire to follow his instructions. He preached to them the law in such an impressive and convincing manner that on the spot two hundred and fifty noblemen of Kappila and the same number of Kaulia asked for admittance among the members of the assembly.

The instruction they had heard, and which had determined their vocation, had not had time to cast deep roots in their hearts. They soon regretted their home, their families, and their former gay life. Buddha, who saw what was going on in their souls, said to them, "Will you come with me, and enjoy yourselves on the green banks of the beautiful lake Kontala?" They joyfully accepted the proposal. By the power inherent in his nature, Buddha took them through the air, and soon reached the lake. They alighted on its banks. Delighted with the beautiful scenery that surrounded them, and ignorant of the new objects which they saw, they interrogated Buddha about the names of the new plants and fruits which they perceived. Gaudama condescended to answer all their questions. While thus engaged they saw the king of the birds of the lake resting on the branch of a tree. On a sudden five hundred birds of the same kind came crowding round their chief, and, by their cries and various attitudes, testified the happiness which they felt at being in his company.

The new converts wondered at the admirable instinct of those birds, and communicated to each other their mutual surprise. As an accomplished teacher, Buddha availed himself of the opportune moment, and said to them in a mild manner, "Beloved disciples, what you see now and admire is the lively and true image of my family." So effectually was the instruction conveyed that they all at once became Thautapan, and no longer thought of returning into the world. By the virtue inherent in their new position, they were enabled to fly through the air, and they returned with Buddha into the Mahawon residence.

On their arrival, Buddha began his fifth season in that same place. It was in the middle of that season, in the month of Wakhaong (August), that he heard that his father had been seized with a violent distemper, which left him no rest either day or night. Sensible of his approaching end, Thoodaudana ardently wished to see his son for the last time. In the morning, at the hour when Buddha was reviewing all beings, and examining with a compassionate heart their respective condition, he saw the sad and painful position of his royal father. He instantly summoned, by the means of Ananda, a select band of disciples, and flying through the air, alighted with his company in front of the palace. Without a moment's delay he ascended to the upper apartments, and sat on a place prepared for him, near the head of the couch upon which lay the royal patient.

Buddha, recollecting himself awhile, and then laying one of his hands on his father's head, said, "By the virtue of the merits I have acquired during countless existences, by the power of the fruits gathered during forty-nine days round the tree Bodi, let this head be forthwith relieved from all pain." It happened so in the twinkling of an eye. Nan, or Nanda, the younger brother of Buddha, the son of his aunt Patzapati, holding the right hand of his father, said with a fervent earnestness, "By the merits that I have obtained at the feet of Buddha, let this right hand be freed from all pain." And perfect cure instantly followed. Ananda, Phra's first cousin, held the left arm. Thariputra laid his hand on the back, Maukalan grasped the feet. All of them with a similar faith uttered such like prayers, and the same happy result invariably followed. Thoodaudana was delivered from all pain. But he continued to remain very weak.

Buddha, profiting by that favourable opportunity, preached to his father the law of mutability, and gave him many and truly seasonable instructions on that most important subject. With such a persuasive language did he expound this favourite doctrine that his father became at once a Rahanda. At the same time he distinctly informed him that seven days hence the end of his life would inevitably happen. Thoodaudana, perfectly prepared for the new change, that is to say, for death, by his son's instructions, and thoroughly resigned, saw before him the true state of Neibban, and said, "Now I clearly perceive the instability of all things. I am free from all passions. I am completely disentangled from the trammels of existence." Rocking himself in the bosom of these comforting truths, he spent happily the few days he had yet to live. On the last day, and for the last time, he paid his respects to Buddha by worshipping him. Sitting then on his couch, the royal patient humbly asked pardon in the presence of all his attendants for all offences he had committed by thoughts, words, and deeds. Having performed this act of sincere humility, he consoled his wife Patzapati, who sat bathed in tears, as well as the other members of the royal family, and several times repeated before them the great truth--that all beings, when they come into existence, have within, inherent in their nature, a principle of death that hurries them to their end and dissolution; that the same principle that has brought near and united beings together is always opposed, and at last overpowered by the opposite one that tends to separate them. He then placidly lay on his couch, and gently breathed his last in the day of the full moon of Wakhaong, on a Saturday, at the rising of the sun, in the year of the Eetzana, era 107, at the advanced age of ninety-seven years.

Gaudama, after his father's demise, when all the Rahans were assembled round the deathbed, said to them: "Beloved Bickus, behold my father's remains. He is no longer what he was a little while ago. He has undergone the change. No one can offer an effectual and lasting resistance to the principle of death, inherent in all beings. Be diligent in the practice of good works: follow steadily the four roads leading to perfection." After this lecture, he consoled his aunt Patzapati and the other ladies of the court, who, with dishevelled hair, were wailing aloud and striking their breasts. He minutely explained to them the consequences resulting from the great principle of mutability, which pervades all beings and infallibly leads them to destruction by the separation of their constitutive parts.

When the instruction was finished, Buddha directed Kathaba to go and prepare the spot on which the funeral and cremation of the corpse were to take place. Aided by Thariputra, he washed the corpse, which was subsequently placed in great state, on a magnificent and lofty catafalco, raised for the purpose. The princes of Thekkara, Thoopawa, and Weritzara, came to attend the royal funeral and offer presents. The corpse was carried processionally through the principal streets of the city at the sound of all musical instruments. Buddha, in person, received the corpse, and laid it on the funeral pile. To no one else would he leave the honourable and pious task of setting fire to it. On that occasion there took place an indescribable outburst of wailings and lamentings. The impassible Buddha preached the law on that occasion. He left aside all praises in behalf of the deceased. He was satisfied with announcing the law; and countless beings, both among men and Nats, obtained the deliverance.

After the loss of her royal husband, Queen Patzapati, profoundly impressed with all that she had seen and heard, desired to renounce the world and embrace a religious mode of life. For that purpose she came to the presence of Buddha, and asked three times the permission to follow her inclination and become Rahaness. Three times the solicited favour was denied her. Buddha then left his own native country and returned to Wethalie, fixing his abode in the Gutagaia-thala monastery, in the Mahawon forest.

Buddha had not been long in this place when he had to grant the request which he at first refused to his aunt Patzapati. The wives of the princes of the Kappila and Kaulia countries, who, to the number of 500, had recently renounced the world, desired also to follow the example set before them by their husbands. They went to the queen's apartments and communicated to her their design, entreating her to help them in obtaining the object of their wishes. Patzapati not only promised them her support, but expressed the determination to join their company. As a token of the sincerity and earnestness of their resolution, all the ladies, without the least hesitation, cut their beautiful black hair, put on a dress in accordance with their pious intentions, and resolutely set out on foot in the direction of the Wethalie country.

Unused to such bodily exertions, the pious pilgrims suffered much during their long journey. At last, worn out with fatigue, covered with dust, they arrived near the Mahawon monastery. They respectfully stopped at the gate, and requested an interview with Ananda. The latter, having ascertained from their own mouth the object of their pious and fatiguing errand, hastened into the presence of Buddha, and entreated him to grant the earnest and praiseworthy demand of his aunt and of the other ladies, her companions. On hearing the request, Buddha, for a while, remained silent, as if deliberating on the answer he had to give. Then he said: "Ananda, it is not expedient to allow women to embrace the religious state; otherwise my institutions shall not last long." Ananda, undismayed by that reply, respectfully reminded Buddha of all the favours he had received from Patzapati, who had nursed and brought him up with the utmost care and tenderness, from the day his mother died, when he was but seven days old, and represented with a fervent earnestness the good dispositions of the pious postulants. Buddha's scruples were overcome by the persuasive language of the faithful Ananda. He asked whether women could observe the eight precepts: and added, that in case they would consent to bind themselves to a correct observance of them, they might be admitted as members of the assembly.

Fully satisfied with the answer he had obtained, the venerable Ananda saluted Buddha, and hastened to the gate of the monastery, where his return was impatiently awaited. On hearing the good news, Patzapati, in the name of her companions, spoke to Ananda: "Venerable Ananda, we all rejoice that the favour so often asked for has been at last granted unto us. As a young maid, who has bathed, and washed her hair, is anxiously desirous to put on her fine ornaments, as she receives with delight the beautiful and fragrant nosegays that are offered to her, so we are longing for the eight precepts, and wish for admittance into the assembly." They all promised to observe the rules of their new profession to the end of their lives. Yathaudara and Dzanapada-kaliani were among these converts. They all, owing to their former meritorious works, became subsequently Rahandas.

One of the new female converts seemed to have retained as yet a certain admiration of and fondness for her handsome features, and secretly prided herself on her beauty. Buddha, who quickly perceived the latent enemy lurking in the folds of her heart, resorted to the following expedient to correct her. On a certain day, when the proud and vain woman was in his presence, he created in an instant a consummate beauty, who as much exceeded her in perfection of form as the snow-white swan surpasses the black crow. Whilst she looked on this suddenly appearing rival with somewhat jealous eyes, Buddha caused the beauty of his creation to appear on a sudden very old, with a wrinkled face and an emaciated frame, and to exhibit on her person all the various and disgusting inroads which the most loathsome diseases make on the human body. The change acted as an electric shock on the young religious woman. When Gaudama perceived the change, and that she was so horrified at such a sight that she was nearly fainting, he said to her: "Behold, my daughter, the faithful foreshowing of what shall inevitably happen to that form you are so proud of." He had scarcely spoken those words, when she was instantly and for ever cured of her vanity.

Buddha left Wethalie and went on the Makula mountain, where he spent his sixth season. During his stay in that place thousands of people were converted and obtained the deliverance. At the end of that season, Buddha went to Radzagio, and stayed in the Weloowon monastery.

It was at that time that Kema, the first queen of King Pimpathara, proud of her rank, youth, and beauty, was at last converted. Up to that time she had obstinately refused to see Buddha and hear his doctrine. On a certain day, the queen went to visit a garden which was in the neighbourhood of the Weloowon grove. By a contrivance of the king, her husband, she was brought, almost against her will, into the presence of Buddha, who worked out the spiritual cure of her foolish vanity by a process similar to the one above mentioned. He caused a beautiful female of his creation to pass successively, in the queen's presence, through the various stages of old age, disease, and death. Her mind having been thus well prepared to hear his instructions, Buddha gave her a lengthened explanation of the miseries attending the body. It had the desirable effect to convert her in so perfect a manner that she entered into the current of perfection, and became Thautapan. After having obtained the consent of her lord, she was, upon her pressing solicitations, admitted into the religious order. She became a Rahanda, and among the female members of the assembly she ranked as the disciple of the right. Such a glorious charge was owing to her former merits.

On a certain day, a rich man of the country of Radzagio went to enjoy himself on the banks of the river Ganges. That man was not a disciple of Buddha, nor did he hold the doctrines of the opposite party. He steered a middle course between both doctrines, with a mind disposed, however, to embrace such opinions as should appear to him based on the best and strongest evidence. Chance offered him a favourable opportunity to acknowledge the superiority of Buddha over his opponents. He saw a log of sandal-wood floating on the stream, took it up, and had a beautiful patta made of it. When finished, he wrote upon it these words, "He who can fly in the air let him take it." The patta was raised on the top of a succession of hampers, tied together, and sixty cubits high. Some heretics living in the neighbourhood asked on successive occasions the rich man to get down the patta for them; he answered them that he would give it only to him who by flight could reach it. The head man of those heretics feigned to prepare himself to fly; but when he was extending his arms, and raising one of his feet, his disciples, according to a preconcerted plan, seized him, saying, "It is not becoming that you should exert yourself for such a trifle." But the wily rich man could not be thus deceived; he persisted in his former resolution, and for six days resisted all their entreaties. On the seventh day Maukalan happened to go to that place in search of his food. He was informed of all that had just happened. He was, moreover, told that the rich man and all his family would become disciples under him who could by flight possess himself of the sandal-wood patta. Maukalan was ready, for the glory of Buddha, to raise himself in the air, but his companion refused to allow him to do it, saying that such an easy work could easily be accomplished by one less advanced in merits. Maukalan agreed to his proposal. Whereupon entering into the fourth state of Dzan, his companion rose in the air, carrying with the toes of one of his feet an enormous rock three-quarters of a youdzana wide. The whole space between him and the bystanders appeared darkened. Every one was half dead with fear, lest, perhaps, it should fall over his head. Maukalan's companion had the rock split into two parts, and his person then appeared to the view of the assembled crowd. After having during a whole day exhibited such a mighty power, he caused the rock to fall on the place he had taken it from. The rich man bade him come down, fully satisfied with the display of such power. The sandal-wood patta was taken down, filled with the best rice, and presented to him. The Rahan received it and went back to his monastery. Many persons living at a distance from the place where the wonder had been exhibited, followed him to the monastery, begging him to show some other signs.

As they approached the monastery, Buddha hearing the noise, inquired what it was. He was informed of all the particulars of the event that had just taken place. He called the Rahan into his presence, took the patta, had it broken into pieces and reduced to dust.[5] He then forbade the Rahan ever to make such a display of his power.

The heretics soon heard of the prohibition issued by Gaudama to his disciples. They thought that no one would dare to match them in the display of wonders, and that they could easily ascertain their superiority over him. The ruler of Radzagio, hearing of this news, went to Buddha and inquired as to his motive for such a prohibition. Buddha told him that the prohibition regarded his disciples only, but not himself. The heretics, informed of this, said, "What will become of us? Gaudama himself will show signs." They held a council among themselves as to what was to be done. Gaudama told the king that in four months he would make a grand display of his miraculous power in the country of Thawattie, as it was in that place that all former Buddhas had in former ages showed signs. The heretics from that day never lost sight of Buddha for a moment; they followed him day and night. They gave orders that a large and extensive covered place should be prepared for them, where they might show their power and outshine that of the Rahan Gaudama. Buddha having said that he would select the spot where a white mango-tree stood for the scene of his miracles, the heretics caused the total destruction of all mango-trees in that direction.

On the full moon of Tabaong (February), Gaudama left Radzagio, attended by a large retinue of disciples. He went to preach in different parts. On the seventh of the waxing moon of Watso he entered the country of Thawattie. A gardener gave him by way of present a large mango fruit. Ananda prepared the fruit and Buddha ate it. When this was done, the stone was handed to Ananda with an injunction to plant it in a place prepared to receive it. When planted, Buddha washed his hands over it, and on a sudden there sprang up a beautiful white mango-tree, fifty cubits high, with large branches loaded with blossoms and fruits. To prevent its being destroyed, a guard was set near it by the king's order. Dismayed at such a wonderful sign, the heretics fled in every direction to conceal their shame and confusion. Their head man, named Pourana, took from a husbandman a large jar with a rope, tied up the vessel with one extremity of the rope, passed the other round his neck, and flinging first the jar and next himself into the river, where the water was very deep, he was drowned, and went to the lowest hell, called Awidzi.

Buddha created in the air an immense road, reaching east and west to the extremities of the world. When the sun began to verge towards the west, he thought the time had come to ascend to that road in the presence of an immense crowd, that covered an area of thirty-six youdzanas, and there make a display of his wonderful powers. He was on the point of crossing the threshold of the building that had been erected for him by the care of Nats, when a female convert, named Garamie, who had become an Anagam, came into his presence, and after the usual prostrations said to him, "Glorious Buddha, it is not necessary that you should take the trouble of working wonders; I, your servant, will do it." "What wonder will you work, my daughter, Garamie?" replied Buddha. "I will," said Garamie, "fill up the space with water, and plunging into the water in an eastern direction, I will come back, and reappear in the west like a water-fowl. On my appearance before the crowd they will ask, What is this water-fowl? And I will answer to them, that this water-fowl is Garamie, the daughter of the most excellent Buddha. This is the wonder I will accomplish. The heretics, on seeing it, will say to themselves, If such be the power of Garamie, how much greater and more wonderful must be that of Buddha himself?" "I know," said Buddha, "that you have such a power, but it is not for your sake that these crowds have been gathered together;" and he refused the solicited permission. Garamie said to herself, Buddha would not allow me to work this great wonder, but there is some one else that can do greater things than I; perhaps Buddha will not be so inflexible with them as he is with me. She then withdrew to a becoming place.

Buddha thought within himself, There are many among my disciples who can make a display of great wonders; it is meet that the crowds should be aware of it, and see how, with hearts stout as that of the lion, they are ready to perform the most wonderful feats. He said aloud, "Who are they that can do wonders? let them come forward." Many came into his presence with a lion-like boldness and a thundering voice, craving for the honour of displaying supernatural powers. Among them was a rich man, named Anatapein; a female child, called Tsera; a grown-up woman, and Maukalan. They volunteered their services to perform the most extraordinary wonders, in order both to frighten the heretics, and make them understand that, if such a power belonged to the disciples, what that of Buddha himself must be. But Buddha would not accept their proffered services, and said to them that the people had not been assembled there for their sake, but for his; and that to him alone was reserved the task of enrapturing the crowds by the great wonders he was preparing to show. Addressing Maukalan, he said to him that, being a Buddha, he could not leave to others the trouble of performing his own duty. In a former existence, when he was a bullock, he drew from a muddy place a heavily-laden cart, to save a Brahmin's property and rejoice his heart.

Buddha ascended to the immense road which he had created in the air in the presence of the crowd, that filled a place of eighteen youdzanas in breadth and twenty-four in length. These wonders which he was about to display were the result of his own wisdom, and could not be imitated by any one. He caused a stream of water to issue from the upper part of his body and flames of fire from the lower part, and on a sudden the reverse to take place; again fire issued from his right eye, and streams of water from his left eye, and so on from his nostrils, ears, right and left, in front and behind. The same wonder too happened in such a way that the streams of fire succeeded the streams of water, but without mingling with each other. Each stream in an upward direction reached the seats of Brahmas; each stream in a downward direction penetrated as far as hell; each in a horizontal direction reached the extremities of the world. From each of his hairs the same wonderful display feasted the astonished eyes of the assembled people. The six glories gushed, as it were, from every part of his body, and, made it appear resplendent beyond description. Having no one to converse with, he created a personage, who appeared to walk with him. Sometimes he sat down, while his companion was pacing along; and at other times he himself walked, whilst his interlocutor was either standing or sitting. All the while Buddha put to him questions which he readily answered, and in his turn replied to the interrogations that were made to him. At intervals Phra preached to the crowd, who were exceedingly rejoiced, and sung praises to him. According to their good dispositions, he expounded the various points of the law. The people who heard him and saw the wonderful works he performed, obtained the understanding of the four great principles.

Buddha, having completed the twofold work of preaching to the crowds, and exciting their respect and admiration by the most astonishing display of the most extraordinary miracles, began to think within himself as follows: To what place have all former Buddhas resorted after the display of signs, and spent the season? He saw by a stretch of his incomparable foresight that all of them had gone to the seat of Tawadeintha, in the Nats' country, to announce the perfect law to their mothers. He resolved to go thither too. With one step he reached the summit of the mountain Ugando, at a distance of 160,000 youdzanas, and another step carried him to the top of the Mienmo mountain. This was done without any effort on the part of Buddha. Those mountains lowered their summits to the very spot where he was standing, and rose up again to resume their lofty position. Buddha found himself brought almost instantaneously to the seat of Tawadeintha.[6] He took his position on the immense rock Pantukambala. When he lay extended there upon his tsiwaran, the huge mass on a sudden contracted itself to the very narrow dimensions of his dress.

The people who had seen Buddha, and who could not now descry him, found themselves in a state of bereavement, as if the sun and the moon had disappeared from the sky. They gave full vent to their cries and lamentations, saying: We are now deprived of the blessed presence of him who is the most excellent among the three sorts of beings, men, Nats, and Brahmas. Some said he has gone to this place; some replied, no, he has gone to that place. Many of the people, who had just arrived from different parts of the country, were exceedingly grieved, because they could not see him. They all repaired before Maukalan, to ascertain from him what place Buddha had gone to. Maukalan knew it, but he wished to leave to Anourouda the honour of satisfying their curiosity. The latter said to them that Buddha had gone to the seat of Tawadeintha to preach the law to his mother, and spend there one season on the rock of Pantukambala. He added, that he would be back in three months hence, on the day of the full moon of Thadin-kioot (October). They came to the spontaneous resolution to remain on that very spot, and not to return to their homes, until they had seen Buddha a second time. They erected temporary sheds; and, though the place was small for such a countless multitude, they managed to accommodate themselves in the best way they could. Previous to his departure, Buddha had enjoined on Maukalan to remain with the people and preach to them the law. Maukalan faithfully complied with the request, and during three consecutive months instructed the people, and answered all their questions. The rich man Anatapein fed the Rahans and the assembly abundantly during the whole time.

FOOTNOTES

[1] It is impossible to assign the motive that induced the
compiler of Buddha's life to insert in his work a long episode
on the celebrated physician Dzewaka. The story is in itself
uninteresting, and throws no light whatever on the history of
the supposed originator or reformer of Buddhism. For this reason
it has been thought quite unnecessary to give a complete
translation of the whole passage. The name of Dzewaka is quite
familiar to the adepts of the medical art in Burmah. Many times
the writer has made inquiries respecting the works of the
Hippocrates of India, but he has never been able to meet with
mention of or allusion to such compositions. Hence he has been
led to suppose that the father of medicine in these countries
has left behind him no writings to embody the results of his
theoretical and practical favourite pursuits. Surgery appears to
have been no novelty with our great doctor, since we see him on
an occasion extracting from the body of a prince, by means of an
incision, a snake that put his life in peril.

The numerous quacks who in Burmah assume the name of physicians,
and are ever ready to give medicines in all cases, even the most
difficult and complicated, are ignorant of the very elements of
the surgical art. They possess a certain number of remedies,
made up of plants, which, when applied under proper
circumstances and in certain cases, work wonderful cures. But
the native physicians, unable in most instances to discern the
true symptoms of diseases, prescribe remedies at random, and
obtain, in too many cases, results most fatal to the unfortunate
patient. In medicine as well as in religion, ignorance begets
superstition and recourse to magical practices. We may
positively assert that the black art is, with native
practitioners, an essential concomitant to the practice of
medicine. When a physician has exhausted the limited stock of
remedies that he possesses, and he finds, in spite of his
exertions, that the disease bids defiance to his skill, he
gravely tells the relatives of the patient that some evil spirit
is interfering with his remedies, and that he must be expelled
ere there can be any chance of relieving the sufferer and
obtaining his recovery. Whereupon a shed is erected with the
utmost speed on a spot close to the house of the patient.
Offerings of rice, fruits, and other articles are made to the
pretended evil spirit, who is supposed to have got hold of the
sufferer's body. Dances of the most frantic character are
carried on by his relatives. Males will only officiate in
default of females; preference is always given to the latter.
Young girls, say the Burmese, are the fittest persons for the
occasion, as it is supposed that the evil Nat is more
effectually and easily propitiated by the power of their charms.
This exercise lasts until, strength at last failing them, they
drop down in a state of complete exhaustion and prostration.
They appear as if they had entirely lost their senses. In that
state they are supposed to be inspired by the evil spirit.
Interrogated by the physician on the nature of the disease, and
the proper remedies to be applied for eradicating it, they give
answers, or rather they become channels through which the
spirit, satisfied with the offerings made in his honour,
condescends to declare that he has now left the patient, and
that by placing him under a certain treatment, which he fails
not to indicate, he will soon recover his health. Occurrences of
this nature are exceedingly common. They are called by the
natives festivals of the _Nat-pan_, or of the possessing spirit.

[2] The first followers of Buddha, observing a mode of life much
resembling that of the Rathees, had hitherto made use of the
dress they had purchased previous to their leaving the world.
But when they became professed members of the new society, they
were subjected to the observance of the vow of strict poverty,
and had to depend entirely on public charity for the obtaining
of the required food and raiment. The old clothes brought at the
time of their entering the society were worn out and unfit to be
put on. Others were to be provided for by some means that would
not wound the delicate feeling of absolute poverty. The only one
that occurred was the willing and liberal dispositions of the
lay members of the Buddhist community. This new source of
abundant alms was opened by our Buddha himself, on the occasion
of the offering made by Dzewaka. Desiring likewise to do away
with the scruples many religious might entertain respecting the
lawfulness or unlawfulness of receiving articles of dress,
Gaudama laid it down as a regulation that all the religious
could lawfully accept all that might be willingly offered them
by the faithful. In the foregoing pages we have seen the founder
of Buddhism granting to his followers permission to receive
houses and landed properties presented to communities. Now the
same legislator, adhering to the same principle, gives a fuller
development thereto, and extends to articles necessary for dress
the leave to receive offerings of this description, proffered by
the faithful to the religious. In the book of Buddhist
ordinations, or promotion to the degree of Patzin, mention is
made of these two sorts of permissions given to the Rahans.

[3] It was at that moment that Gaudama delighted to reveal to
his disciples the most startling points of his doctrine, and
made them familiar with certain tenets upon which he laid much
stress. He wished that what he looked upon as subjects of the
greatest importance, should be come familiar to them. No doubt
he intended that those favourite topics should become the
spiritual food upon which his disciples' minds should feed
during the hours devoted to meditation. Those who are
uninitiated in the doctrines of Buddhism will not understand the
meaning of such an expression. It is difficult to obtain the
nature of man. Such language is, however, in perfect accordance
with the principles of that system. A being, who is in one of
the four states of punishment, that of an animal, for instance,
shall have, in many instances, to pass through an immense number
of various existences, ere he can escape from the circle of
animal existences, and at last emerge into that of man. To give
us an idea of the excessive difficulties a being has to
encounter, they make use of the following comparison. Let us
suppose that a needle be dropped from one of the seats of
Brahmas, and at the same time a man on earth be keeping another
needle with the point upwards. It will be more easy for the two
needles' extremities to come in contact one with the other, than
it will be to a being in the condition of animal to reach the
state of man. On the same principle one can easily imagine what
mighty efforts must be made during countless existences ere a
simple man can obtain all the qualifications necessary for
enabling him to become a Buddha. The theory of Gaudama, on this
point, resembles much that of some modern thinkers who preach
the perfectibility of man to an almost infinite degree.

[4] The conversion of Ouggasena and of his companions, procured
by the direct intervention of Buddha himself, is another
instance of the truly liberal spirit which animated the great
preacher. His law was intended for all without exception. The
profession of these individuals whom he so peculiarly selected
was far from being a respectable one. The proud Brahmin would
not have condescended to take notice of people who, in his
opinion, had degraded themselves so low. But the new teacher,
though born from parents belonging to a high caste, entirely
free from the prejudices inculcated by the narrow spirit of
caste, rose himself to such a high position as to look upon man,
whatever his condition or position might be, as a fellow-being
fully entitled to the benefit of his instructions. This is one
of the most striking features of his preachings, its
universality as regards persons and places. It enables us to
account for the rapid and astonishing diffusion of his doctrines
through so many countries. It constitutes the essential and
capital difference between the two great systems which, in days
long passed by, have contested for the religious supremacy over
the Indian peninsula.

In the subsequent story of Thoodaudana's illness, we see Buddha
first, then Ananda, Thariputra, and Maukalan relieving the
illustrious patient from his bodily distemper, by invoking, not
the interference of a supreme Being, whom they ignore, but a
certain power or influence connected with former good deeds. A
great, nay, a miraculous, effect is produced by the agency of a
cause which no one but a Buddhist can understand. He has
recourse to _kan_, or the influence resulting from meritorious
actions, as to a mighty agent who has the power to work any
desired result whatever. But how a man can by his own will
control the influence of his good actions, so as to produce a
grand effect in no way short of a miracle, is a thing which can
in no rational way be explained or accounted for.

[5] The rebuke given by Buddha to the disciple who had, without
permission, made such a display of miraculous power, intended
though it was for the promotion of his glory, was designed to
operate as a salutary check on the pride that might find its way
into the heart of even the most privileged beings. Such a lesson
was deemed of the greatest importance, since we find in the book
of Buddhistic ordinations the sin of boasting of or pretending
to the power of working wonders, &c., ranked among the four
capital sins, excluding a Rahan for ever from the society of the
perfect, and depriving him of his rank and dignity. Buddha, it
seems, wished to reserve to himself alone the honour of working
miracles, or to give the permission, when circumstances should
require it, to some of his disciples to do the same in his name
and for the exaltation of his religion.

The following story of Purana and his five associates holds a
prominent rank among the events that have rendered Buddha so
celebrated. Gaudama, as it has been already mentioned in some
foregoing notes, was an ascetic who had studied philosophy under
eminent masters who belonged to the Brahminical school. In many
of his opinions, as well as in his mode of life, there was no
perceptible difference between him and the followers of the
Brahmins. The writings of the latter, as well as those of the
earliest Buddhists, exhibit to us the sight of a great number of
schools; where opinions on ontology, morals, and dogmas, &c., at
once various, multifarious, and opposite, were publicly taught.
Then the human mind, left to its own resources, launching forth
into the boundless field of speculative philosophy, ran in every
direction, searching after truth. The mania for arguing,
defining, drawing conclusions, &c., in those days, prevailed to
an extent scarcely to be credited. Many centuries before
Aristotle wrote the rules of dialectics, the Indian philosophers
had carried the art of reasoning to a great degree of nicety and
shrewdness. Witness the disputes and discussions between the
Brahmins and the immediate disciples of Buddha. When our Phra
began to attract about his person crowds of hearers and
disciples; when his opinions on the end of man were understood
and appreciated; when the system of castes received the first
shock from the new but rapidly progressing doctrine; when the
eyes and hearts of the people were slowly at first, and rapidly
afterwards, centred on the new preacher and his disciples; when
at last alms, that had hitherto flowed into the abodes of the
Brahmins, began to enter into new channels and carry their
substantial produce to the door of the followers of the new
sect, then jealousy and other passions began to agitate the
hearts of those who had hitherto retained an undisputed sway
over the credulity of the people. They tried, if credit be given
to the works of Buddhists, every effort and devised every means
in order to oppose the progress of the new doctrine.

In this instance, Purana and his friends, assisted, as the
Buddhists pretend, by the agency of the evil one, wished to
enter into discussion with Buddha and to surpass him in the
display of miraculous power. The contest was to take place in
the country of Thawattie, in the presence of the king and of a
countless multitude assembled for the purpose. Purana, as usual
with Buddhists in regard to those who held opinions different
from their own, is styled a heretic. Of the opinions of the
enemies of Buddha nothing is said in the present work, but the
writer has had the opportunity of perusing another work where a
slight allusion is made to those six holders of heterodox
doctrines. Their opinions were at variance on the beginning of
this world, the eternity of matter, the existence of the soul,
and a first principle, creator of all that exists. We may infer
therefrom that they were heads or chiefs of various schools,
who, though not agreeing among themselves upon purely
speculative doctrines, united and combined against the common
enemy. A detailed account of the doctrines held by these six
heretics would prove highly interesting, as it would throw some
light on the very obscure and imperfectly known history of
Indian philosophy, in the days when Buddhism assumed the shape
of a religious system. To those who are unacquainted with Indian
literature, the great progress made by Hindus in philosophical
sciences at such an early period may appear somewhat doubtful:
but modern discoveries made all over the Indian peninsula leave
not the least doubt respecting this startling assertion. At a
period when Greece and the other regions of Europe were sunk in
a state of complete ignorance, most of the branches of
literature were successfully cultivated on the banks of the
Ganges. The study of philosophy always supposes a great
intellectual advancement. There would, therefore, be no rashness
whatever in asserting that the present state and condition of
India, as regards literary progress, are much below the mark
that was attained at such a remote period. The epoch of literary
decadence began with the devastating expeditions of the
fanatical Moslem in the tenth century. It is probable, too, that
the religious and sanguinary conflicts between the Buddhists and
Brahminists have had their share in bringing about a similar
result. The latter, having obtained the ascendancy over their
adversaries, became more bigoted. They would no longer tolerate,
to the same extent as before, the liberty of elaborating new
systems, lest some successful philosopher might hereafter
propagate opinions at variance with their own, undermine the
mighty fabric of their creed, and endanger the holding of that
absolute sway and paramount influence they had recovered, after
centuries of a deadly contest with the disciples of the
philosopher of Kapilawot.

[6] The preachings of Buddha were not to be confined to the
narrow limits of man's abode; they were designed to reach much
further. All beings living in the six seats of Nats were to
share with men the blessings of the publication of the perfect
law. It has been already stated at length, in a foregoing note,
that the condition of Nats is merely a state of pleasure and
enjoyment allotted to those who in former existences had done
some meritorious work. The fortunate inhabitants of these
celestial regions remain in those seats until the sum of their
respective merits being, as it were, exhausted, they return to
the abode of man, the true place of probation for all beings
living therein. The condition of Nat, therefore, is not a
permanent one; the Nat, after his time of reward is over, has to
migrate to our terrestrial abode, begin a new existence, and
endeavour to advance himself in the way of perfection by the
practice of virtue. He is as yet very far from the state of
Neibban. Like man, he has to learn the sublime law, and to
become acquainted with the roads leading to the four high
perfections. Buddha, who came to announce the law of salvation
to all beings, could not but go to the seats of Nats, and teach
them the way to free themselves from the turmoil of never-ending
existence. The preachings of Buddha for three consecutive months
were attended with a success that must have exceeded his most
sanguine expectations. Millions of Nats were converted, and
forthwith obtained the deliverance. Others less advanced in
merits obtained the first, or second, or third state of
perfection.

During his stay in the other seats of Nats, Buddha gave a
decision on the merits of almsgiving, which is certainly to the
advantage of the yellow-dressed Bickus, but appears somewhat
opposed to all principles of justice and reason. In his opinion
the inward dispositions of him who gives alms has nothing to do
with the merits resulting from such a good work. Those merits
are strictly proportionate to the degree of sanctity or
perfection of him who receives alms. Such doctrine, destructive
of the purest and noblest motives that can actuate man to do
good, is openly upheld now both in theory and practice by the
Buddhist monks. When they receive alms from the admirers of
their saintly mode of life, they never think of returning thanks
to those who so liberally administer to all their material
wants; they content themselves with saying, Thadoo, thadoo; that
is to say, Well, well; and the pious offerer withdraws perfectly
satisfied and happy, relying on the merits he has gained on this
occasion, and longing for another opportunity of doing the like.
The liberality of the laity towards the religious is carried to
an excess scarcely to be credited. Government do not interfere
in the maintenance of the perfect, and yet they are abundantly
supplied with all the necessaries, nay, the luxuries, of life.
They live on the fat of the land.

That the crowds of people might be better prepared for hearing
the sacred law and obtaining a correct understanding of it,
Buddha charges Maukalan to a regular fast, or at least
abstinence, carried to a considerable degree. A free and copious
use of nourishing substances unfits man for mental exertions,
occasions in him heaviness and supineness, enervates and weakens
the vigour of the intellect, and gives to matter a
preponderating influence over the soul. The advice will hold
good everywhere, but it becomes particularly pressing and
stringent when addressed to an audience of Buddhists, who
require the full force of their mind to be able to understand
the various bearings of a doctrine resting on the most abstruse
principles, the end of which too is to disentangle the soul from
the influence of materiality. Up to this day in Burmah there are
some remnants of the observance of fast during the three months
of Lent, when the law is oftener expounded to and better
observed by religious people. The obligation of fasting during
the days of the quarters of the moon is generally admitted, and
some few observe it, if not always, at least from time to time.
The generality of the Burmese people entirely disregard fasting.

Curious but interesting is the reply Buddha gave to Thariputra,
who rejoiced exceedingly because men and Nats vied with each
other in paying great honours to him. He unhesitatingly states:
Blessed are all those who rejoice on his account. By this joy we
ought not to understand the transient and momentary affection of
the heart, elicited by some pleasing and agreeable occurrence;
but the kind of joy alluded to is a rational, philosophical, and
religious one, having its origin, first, in a full and perfect
knowledge of Buddha's transcendent excellence, rendering his
person an object of the highest admiration; and, second, in a
lively confidence in his benevolence and goodness towards all
beings, which urge him to labour for their deliverance from all
miseries and their guidance to a state of peace and rest. Such a
joy, diffused over the heart, creates an ardent love for Buddha
and his doctrine; that affection rests, not on Buddha, as a mere
individual, but on him who is the personification of a saviour
of all beings. It implies faith in him and his preachings, as
well as a strong confidence in his power and willingness to
confer the greatest possible benefits. Hence there is no wonder
to hear Buddha declaring all those blessed who on that solemn
occasion rejoiced in him.