Chapter V (4)

The Buddhist philosopher, in his earnest prosecution after the antidote of ignorance, that is, science, rightly states that all beings, and man, in particular, must ever be the first and most interesting subject the sage has to study. The knowledge of man in particular constitutes a most important portion of the science he must acquire, ere he can become a perfect being, and be deemed worthy to be admitted to the state of Neibban. In the very limited sketch of this part of the work under consideration, the attention of the reader will be directed on man as the most interesting of all beings. With our Buddhist author, therefore, he will take human beings as the subject of his investigations. Provided with the philosophical dissecting knife, he will anatomise all the component parts of that extraordinary being, whose nature has ever presented an insoluble problem to ancient sages. What is to be said on this subject will be sufficient to convey a correct idea of the mode of reasoning and arguing followed by Buddhist philosophers, when they analyse other beings and select them for the subjects of their meditations.

At the very beginning, our author proclaims this great maxim: All beings living in the three worlds, heaven, earth, and hell, have in themselves but two things or attributes, _Rupa_ and _Nam_, form and name. Accustomed as we are to a language that expresses clear and distinct notions, we would like to hear him say, in nature there are but two things, matter and spirit. But such is not the language of Buddhists, and I apprehend that were we giving up their somewhat extraordinary, and, to us, unusual way of expressing their ideas, we could not come to a correct knowledge of the notions they entertain respecting the nature of man. Let us allow our author to speak for himself, and, as much as possible, express himself in his own way. By _rupa_, we understand form and matter; that is to say, all that is liable _per se_ to be destroyed by the agency of secondary causes. _Nam_, or _nama_, is the thing, the nature of which is known to the mind by the instrumentality of _mano_, or the knowing principle. In the five aggregates constituting man, viz., materiality or form, the organs of sensation, of perception, of consciousness, and those of intellect, there is nothing else to be found but form and name. We are at once brought to this materialist conclusion, that in man we can discover no other element but that of form and that of name.

To convey a sort of explanation of this subject, our author gives here a few notions respecting the six senses. I say six senses, because with him, besides the five ordinary senses, he mentions the _mano_, or the knowing principle that resides in the heart, as one of the senses. The organs or faculties of seeing, hearing, feeling, tasting, smelling, and knowing, he calls the inward senses. These same organs, as they come in contact with exterior objects, are called exterior senses. The faculty inherent in each of the senses whereby is operated the action between the organ and its object is designated by the appellation of the life of the senses, as, for instance, the eye seeing, the ear hearing, &c. In this treble mode of considering the senses, what do we meet with but form and name, ideas and matter? Supposing the organ of seeing to exist, and an object to be seen, there will necessarily result, as an essential consequence, the perception or idea of such a thing. Even as regards the _mano_, where there exists the heart on one side, and truth on the other, there will follow immediately the idea or perception of truth.

This materialist doctrine, if the meaning of our author be accurately understood, is further confirmed by the method he proposes for carrying on the investigation respecting the nature of things. He who desires to penetrate deeply into such a sublime science must have recourse to the help of meditation. Having selected an object, he considers it by the means of _witekka_. He passes successively through the ideas and impressions he derives from the contemplation of such an object. He then says to himself: the ideas obtained by means of _witekka_, or the first degree of dzan, or meditation, are nothing but _nam-damma_, since their nature is to offer themselves to the _arom_, as the thought to its object. But where is the seat of that _arom_? It resides in the substance of the heart, which, in reality, affords asylum both to it and to the _nam-damma_. It is nowhere else to be found. But what is the heart? Whence does it come? By what is it formed? To these three questions we answer, that the heart is composed of the four elements. It is but one and the same thing with them. This startling doctrine is explicit, and excludes at once the idea of a spiritual substance.

Our author has now reached the elements of the parts constituting all that exists with a form. He boldly asserts that all that has an existence is but an aggregate of earth, water, fire, and air; all the forms are but modifications and combinations of the four elements. The bare enumeration of this general principle is not sufficient to satisfy our philosopher. He wishes to know and explain the reason of everything. Here begins an analysis entirely unknown to our chemists and philosophers of the west. The body is divided into thirty-two parts, which are often enumerated in formulas of prayer by pious Buddhists. Each of these thirty-two parts is subdivided into forty-four. The hair, how slender soever it appears, is submitted to that minute analysis. The result of this subtle division is to show what is the proportion of each element that enters into the formation of these atomical parts. We have not the patience to write down these uninteresting details, nor do we believe that the reader will be displeased if we spare him the trouble of going over such worthless nomenclature. There is another division of matter, or body, into forty-two parts, called _akan_. This is based upon the distinction of the four elements that enter unequally into the formation of the body; twenty parts belong to the earth, twelve to water, six to fire, and six to wind. Then again the body is divided into sixty parts; the division is based upon the distinction of the ten constitutive parts belonging to each of the senses, as it will be hereafter explained. The object which Buddhist philosophers have in view in entering into so many divisions and subdivisions of the forms of the body is to prove, in their opinion to demonstration, that, by the nicest analysis of every part of the body, we find in the end nothing but the primary elements that are called the supports of all that exist.

We have now to follow our author through a path more difficult than the preceding one, and hear him explain the theory of ideas and their various modifications. These, says he, are known, not by their forms, since they have none, but only by their name. Through the practice of reflection and meditation we become acquainted with them. We call them _arupa damma_, things without a form or shape. They are designated under the name of _tseit_ and _tsedathit_,[50] that is to say, ideas and the result of ideas. Where are these ideas to be met? Where have they their seat? In the six senses and nowhere else, is the answer. Having already become acquainted with the organs of the senses, it will be easy to find out the ideas that are as the tenants of the senses.

All the _tseits_ inhabiting the organs of sense are called _loki tseit_, that is to say, ideas of the world, because they are to be met with in all the beings as yet subjected to concupiscence. They are distinct from _lokoudra tseits_, which belong properly to the beings free from passions, and who have entered into the four _megga_, or ways to perfection. The _tseits_ of this world are eighty-one in number, classified as follows: the perception of each of the five organs, and the perception of the respective faculties of those organs. This gives ten tseits. There are three for the sense of the heart, the perception of the substance of the heart, of its faculty of knowing, and of the object of its knowledge.

Each of the six senses has ten constitutive forms or parts, viz.: earth, water, fire, air, colour, odour, taste, fluid, life, and the body attached primitively thereto. Now there is an action from each of these forms upon the subject. Thence ten _tseits_ to each of the six senses.

There are no words so ill defined and so ill understood by our philosopher as the two words Tseit and Tsedathit. The first in a moral sense means idea, thought, perception, etc.; in a physical sense it means that secondary cause created by _kan_, producing the living being, the senses wherein reside the moral _tseit_. Tsedathit, being the result of ideas, must, of course, have likewise two meanings. In the first place it will designate the impressions made upon us by ideas; in the second, it will mean the secondary cause or life in the body, or the modifications of the principles of corporeal life.

This being premised, we may a little understand our author when he says: There are seven _tsedathits_ existing at the same time as the eighty-one above-mentioned _tseits_, viz.: _pasa tsedathit_, so called because it is the real effect of the tsedathit to attain its object, and, as it were, to touch it. We may call it the agreement between the idea and its object. _Wedana tsedathit_, the feeling of the impression of an idea; _thagnia tsedathit_, the comprehension of the object; _dzetana tsedathit_, the inclination for the object; _eketa tsedathit_, the fixity on the object; _dziwi-teindre tsedathit_, the observance of what relates to form and name; and _mana sikaramana tsedathit_, consciousness. It is evident, therefore, that the tsedathit is neither the idea nor the object of the idea, but the result from the idea that has come in contact with an object. These seven results are, if we may say so, the third part of the idea. They do not give occasion to modifications of ideas. But those which really give rise to the greatest variety of results are the _akuso tsedathit_, or the results of evil thoughts and ideas, and their opposite, or _kuso tsedathit_, or the consequence of good and virtuous thoughts. To mention here all the _kuso_ and _akuso tsedathit_ would be but a dry exposition of the nomenclature of the vices and virtues, such as is met with in the catalogues of Buddhist moralists. They are all enumerated in the preceding note.

ARTICLE IV.

OF THE CAUSE OF THE FORM[51] AND OF THE NAME, OR OF MATTER AND SPIRIT.

The duty of our intelligence is to investigate the cause of all the modifications of forms and names. This being effected, we are delivered from all doubts and disquietude. When we perceive such a form, such an idea, &c., we are able forthwith to account for its causes. In this study we must copy the conduct of the physician, who, when attending a patient, sits by his bedside, closely examines the nature of the distemper and the causes that have given rise to it, in order to find out counteracting agents or remedies to check its progress at first, and gradually to uproot it from the constitution. In the moral order, the philosopher too has to examine the nature of all moral distempers, ascertain the principles or causes they spring from, and thereby become qualified to cure those disorders.

The beings that inhabit the three worlds, says our author, must have a cause. To say that they exist of themselves and without a cause is an absurdity. The very dissimilarity we observe among them indicates that their mode of existence results from certain causes. We, however, cannot agree with our antagonists, the Brahmins, who maintain that Maha Brahma is the cause of all that exists. This being is not out of the circle of Rupa and Nam; he is himself a compound of Nam and Rupa, that is to say, effect but not cause. In vain our opponents will add that all that is distinct of Maha Brahma is subjected to a cause, but that the Rupa and Nam, constituting his essence, are without a cause. This is removing the difficulty a little further, without advancing a step towards its solution; our answer must ever be the same.

Before expounding the opinions of our philosopher on this important subject, it is necessary to state the views entertained by that class of philosophers whose doctrines appear to have taken root in these parts. It is easy to perceive that they are modifications of the opinion of the Hindus on the same subject, and akin to that respecting the Adi Buddha, or supreme Buddha.

Some doctors maintain that there is a first cause or being that has made matter and spirit. Others, admitting the eternal co-existence of matter and of the supreme being, say that he is the remote cause of the organisation of matter, as we at present see it. But all agree in this, that no one can ever come to the knowledge of that first cause, and it is impossible ever to have an idea of it. Hence it is the height of folly and rash presumption to attempt to come to the knowledge of what is placed beyond the range of human investigation. It behoves us to apply all the powers of the mind to discover the immediate cause that certainly produces existence.

The sage, to be worthy of his sublime calling, must remain satisfied with striving to find out that immediate cause which brings into action the form and name, and causes the appearance of all those modifications which we call beings or forms of existence. He ought to strive to account for the organisation of matter and all its modifications, by discovering the hidden spring that effectually sets all in motion, in action, in combination of existences.

Now, our author puts this important question: What thing is to be considered as the mover of the forms and ideas? We know, says he, that the human body has its beginning in the womb of the mother; we are acquainted with its position in that fœtid and narrow prison; its being surrounded with nerves, veins, &c., having above it the new elements, and under it the old ones. The manner in which the body originates in the womb much resembles the process by which worms and insects are formed in rotten substances, and in putrid and stagnant water. But this is not accounting for the real cause of living bodies. The real causes, according to some doctors, are five in number, viz., ignorance, concupiscence, desire, _kan_ (the influence of merits and demerits), and _ahan_ (the aliments). They concur together in the formation of the living body in the following manner. Ignorance, concupiscence, and desire give asylum to the body, as the mother supplies the infant with a refuge in her womb. Kan, like the father, is the cause productive of the body. Ahan affords nourishment to the body.

The ideas are but the result of the formation of the organs of senses. Let us suppose, for instance, the organ of seeing. The _Tsekkou Wignian_, that is to say, the life of the eyes, or the ideas connected with the use of that sense, presupposes two things, the organ and a form or an object on which the organ acts. These existing, there necessarily result the idea of vision, the perception, &c., in a word, all the ideas arising from the action of the eyes upon various objects. The same mode of arguing is employed relatively to the other five senses.

Other philosophers argue in the following way. The primary causes of all ideas and thoughts are disposed under two heads, that of ideas which have a fixed place, and that of those that have no fixed place. Under the first head are comprised the six _Ayatana_, or seats of senses, and the six _Arom_, or the objects of senses. Thence flow all the ideas and consequences that relate to merit and demerit. Under the second head are placed the causes or agents that produce ideas and thoughts, the exercise of the intellect holding the first rank. He who applies his mind to the meditation of what is good, such as the commands and other parts of the most excellent law, and labours to find out that all that is in this world is subjected to change, pain, and illusion, opens at once the door to the coming in of the _tseit_, or ideas connected with merit. On the other hand, the application of the mind to things bad and erroneous, contrary to the prescriptions of the holy law, generates the idea of demerit. Such are the causes of the ideas and thoughts. As to the cause of form, they assert that _kan_, _tseit_, fire, and _ahan_ are the sole agents in the formation of the living body. Kan, as the workman, makes the body and sets in it all that relates to its good and bad qualities. The _tseit_, seventy-five in number, are also principles of the existence of the body, of which forty-four are called Kamawatzara tseit; they relate to the demerit and merit of those who are still under the influence of concupiscence; fifteen _rupa_ watzara tseit, relating to beings in the seats of rupa; eight _arupa_ watzara tseit, relating to those in the seats of arupa; eight _lokoudara_ tseit, relating to the beings that have entered on the four ways of perfection. The _Tedzo-dat_, or the element of fire, contributes its share by the head and rays of light, and _ahan_ by supplying the required aliments.

Some other philosophers account for the causes of form and ideas following this course of argument. The form and ideas that constitute all beings are liable to miseries, old age, and death, because there is generation and death. Generation exists because there are worlds, worlds exist because there is desire, desire exists because there are organs, organs exist because there are form and name, form and name exist because there are concepts, concepts exist because there is merit and demerit, merit and demerit exist because there is ignorance. The latter is, indeed, the real cause of all forms and ideas. There is no doubt but this latter opinion is the favourite one with our author. It is based upon the theory of the twelve Nidanas, or causes and effects, and appears to be the orthodox opinion, and bears the stamp of great antiquity.

Having thus accounted in the best way he could for the existence of all that relates to the beings in the three worlds, our author fondly dwells on the benefits that accrue from the knowledge of causes. It dissipates all the doubts that had previously darkened the mind; it quiets all the anxieties of the heart, and affords perfect peace. For want of it, the impious fall from one error into another; the disciples of Buddha are chiefly perfected by its help.

We read in the Buddhist scriptures that a Brahmin went to consult Buddha on some points that much perplexed his mind. He said to him, “I am beset with doubts respecting the past, the present, and the future. Respecting the past, I ask myself, Have I passed through former generations or not? What was my condition during those existences? My answer is, I am ignorant on all those points. What was my position previous to those generations? I know it not. As to the present, is it true that I exist? or is my existence but an illusion? Shall I have to be born again or not? What are those living beings that surround me at present? Are they but so many illusions which deceive me by their appearance of reality? On these points I am sunk in complete ignorance. The future is likewise full of doubts and most perplexing uncertainties. Shall I have other generations or not? What shall be my condition during these coming existences? A thick veil hides from my eyes all that concerns my future destiny. What are the means to clear up all those doubts that encompass me on all sides?”

Buddha said to him, “Reflect first on this main point, that what we are wont to call self, or _moi_, is nothing but name and form—that is to say, a compound of the four elements, which undergoes perpetual changes under the action or influence of _Kan_. Having acquired the conviction of the truth of this principle, it remains with you to investigate carefully the causes which produce both name and form. This simple examination will lead you at once to the perfect solution of all your doubts. Behold the difference that exists between the holders of false doctrines and the true believers. The former, whom we may almost call animals, never take the trouble to examine the nature of beings or the causes of their existence. They are stubbornly attached to their false theories, and persist in saying that what the ignorant, delivered up to illusion, are used to call an animal, a king, a subject, a foot, and a hand, &c., is really an animal, a king, a subject, a foot, and a hand, &c.; whilst all living beings and their component parts are nothing else but name and form—that is to say, a compound made up of the four elements. Those impious are delivered up to error; hence it happens that they follow all different ways. We reckon among them more than sixty different sects, all at variance among themselves, but all uniting in a common obstinacy to reject the true doctrine of Buddha. They are doomed to move incessantly within the circle of endless and wretched existences.

“How different is the condition of the true believers, our followers! They know that the living beings inhabiting the world have a beginning. But they are sensible of the folly of attempting to reach this beginning or first cause. This is above the capacity of the loftiest intelligence. It is evident, for instance, that the seeds of plants and trees, which are continually in a state of reproduction, have a beginning; but what that beginning is, no one presumes to determine. So it is with man and all living beings. They know well, too, that what is vulgarly called man, woman, eyes, mouth, are all illusory distinctions, vanishing away in the presence of the sage, who sees nothing in all that but name and form, the production of Kan and Wibek, that is to say, of the first and second causes. These two things are not the man and the woman, &c., but they are the efficient causes of both. What we say respecting man and woman may be applied to animals and to all other beings. They are all the productions or results of Kan and Wibek, quite as distinct from these two agents as effect is distinct from its cause. To explain this doctrine, Buddhists have recourse to the comparison of a burning-glass. When there is such an instrument in one hand, and the rays of the sun pass through it to the other, fire is then produced; but fire is quite distinct from the two causes that have concurred jointly in producing it. Our disciples, too, are aware that the five _khandas_, or aggregates constituting a living being, succeed each other at each generation, but in such a way that the second generation partakes or retains nothing of the _khandas_ of the first. But the causes producing them—such as Kan and Wibek—never change; they ever remain the same. Let us suppose lamps lighted up. If they burn always, it is owing to the action of individuals that supply them with oil, and light them as soon as they are extinguished. Such is the condition of the _khandas_. Those which belong to one existence have no more in common with those of the following one than the fire of the lamp just lighted anew has with that of the fire of the lamp that has just died away. As to the way beings are reproduced, we say that when a man is dying, the last _tseit_ having appeared and soon disappeared, it is succeeded forthwith by the _patti_ tseit or the tseit of the new existence; the interval between both is so short that it can scarcely be appreciated. This first _tseit_ has nothing in common with the last one. It is, let it be well remembered, the production of _kan_, or of the influence of merits and demerits, as well as the _khandas_ above alluded to.”

This article is by far the most important of all. The latter part, in particular, elucidates in a distinct manner the genuine opinions of Buddhism on points of the greatest concern. We may sum up the whole as follows:—

1. There is a first cause that has acted in bringing into being all that exists; but that first cause is unknown, nor can we ever come to the knowledge of it.

2. The immediate causes of all the modifications of beings, or states of being, are ignorance and _kan_.

3. All beings are but compounds of the four elements. The intellectual operations are carried on by the instrumentality of the heart, in the same manner as vision is obtained by the means of the eye and of an object to act upon.

4. Each succeeding existence is brought on and modified by the action of Kan, or the influence of merits and demerits.

5. The component parts of a new being are in no way connected with those of the previous being. This is the key to the difficulty many persons find in accounting, in a Buddhistic sense, for the process of metempsychosis. A new term ought to be coined to express that doctrine.

6. The question respecting Neibban may be theoretically resolved without difficulty, by application of the principles contained in this and the preceding article. There is no doubt that the solution forced upon the mind from what has been above stated is that the end of the perfected being is annihilation. Horrifying as this conclusion is, it is not, after all, worse than that which is the terminus of the theories of some modern schools. What an abyss is the poor human mind liable to fall into when it ceases to be guided by Revelation!

ARTICLE V.

OF THE TRUE MEGGAS OR WAYS TO PERFECTION.

The subject under consideration is a very important one. It comprehends and comprises a summary of many particulars already alluded to in the foregoing two articles. The reader will find the path he has to follow less rugged, and the ground he will have to go over not so arid.

Our author seems to lay great stress on this special point. The sage, says he, who is desirous to arrive at the supreme perfection, must apply all the powers of his mind to discern the true ways from the false ones. Many are deceived in the midst of their researches after wisdom. The real criterion between the true and false ways is this: when, in considering an object, and making a philosophical analysis of it, the sage finds it somehow connected with concupiscence and other passions so far that he cannot, as it were, dissolve it by the application of the three principles of aneitsa, duka, and anatta—that is to say, change, pain, and illusion, then he must conclude that he is out of the right ways; the high road to perfection is barred before him. But on the contrary, whenever, by the appliance of the three great principles, he sees that all the objects brought under his consideration are nothing more or less than the mere compound of the four elements, divested of these illusory appearances which deceive so many, then he may be certain that he is in the right position, and is sure of making progress in the way to perfection.

To facilitate the study of the _Meggas_, Buddhists have classified all real and imaginary beings under a certain number of heads. The sage, to complete his laborious task, has to examine separately each of these subjects and submit them to the following lengthened, difficult, and complicated process. He takes up one subject, attentively considers its exterior and interior compound parts, its connection and relation with other things, its tendency to adhere to or part with surrounding objects. Pursuing his inquiries into the past, he endeavours to make himself acquainted with the state and condition of that object during several periods that have elapsed; when his mind is satisfied on this point he follows up in future the same object, and calculates from the experience of the past what change it may hereafter become subjected to. This study enables him to perceive distinctly that it is subjected to the three great laws of mutability, pain, and illusion. This conviction once deeply seated in his soul, the sage holds that object in supreme contempt; far from having any affection for or attachment to it, he feels an intense disgust at it, and longs for the possession of Neibban, which is the exemption from the influence of mutability, pain, and illusion.

What we have now stated is tolerably clear and intelligible; but what follows is less evident. It partakes of that obscurity and complication so peculiar to Buddhist metaphysics. This state of things is created and maintained chiefly by a mania for divisions and subdivisions that would have puzzled even the schoolmen of the middle ages. We have to listen to what our author says respecting the method to be observed in carrying on the great examination of all subjects of investigation. If that labour be patiently and perseveringly prosecuted until all the objects of inquiry be exhausted, ample and magnificent shall be the reward for such labours. The sage will be in possession of the perfect science; Neibban will appear to him; he will long for it, and unremittingly shape his course in its direction: in a word, he shall have reached the acme of perfection. Seated on that lofty position, enjoying a perfect calm in the bosom of absolute quietism, the sage is beyond the reach of passions; there is no illusion for him; he has cut the last thread of future generations by the destruction of the influence of merits and demerits; he has obtained the deliverance from all miseries; he has reached the peaceful shores of Neibban. But such a prize is not easily obtained; it is to be purchased only at the expense of an immense amount of lasting and strenuous mental exertion.

The sage, agreeably to the old and always true saying, Know thyself, very properly begins his mightily difficult task with the examination of the five aggregates constituting a living being, the organs of the six senses, and all that relates to them. Then he applies himself to the studies of the five Dzan, or the parts of meditation and contemplation, and to all that is connected with the seats of Rupa and Arupa. All the objects of examination ranged on that scale are 600 in number. We shall rapidly glance over this table, indicating but the heads of the principal divisions.

We ought not to forget that the five aggregate, or _khandas_, constituting a living being, are form, sensation, perception, consciousness, and intellect. Supposing that we take the first of those attributes as subject of examination. We must represent it to the mind, carefully examine it in all its bearings and properties, respecting the past, the present, and the future. We must proceed on and bring it in contact with the three great principles of aneitsa, duka, and anatta, and inquire whether form be changeable or not, passive or impassive, transient or permanent. We thereby acquire the knowledge of the following great truth; viz., form is essentially liable to change, pain, and illusion. The examination of each of the four other attributes is proceeded on in a like manner, and a similar result ensues.

The six organs of the senses come next under consideration. These are the eyes, the ears, the nose, the tongue, the body, or rather the skin that envelops it, and the heart in a physical sense, and _mano_ in a moral one. Each of the six senses partakes of the eleven conditions or attributes we are about to describe; and each of these eleven attributes being brought successively into relation with each of the six senses, must be considered, as above stated, under the treble relation to mutability, pain, and illusion. This will supply the inquirer with a good amount of information. But to shorten this long enumeration, we will mention now successively those eleven attributes the senses may be affected by, and make the application of all to one of the senses, the eye. The same process may be easily repeated for each of the other senses. Nothing is to be changed but the name of the sense that has become the subject of examination.

1. _Ayatana_, the door, the opening of each of the senses. Applied to the eye, it is the opening through which exterior sensations are communicated to the heart by the organ of seeing.

2. _Arom_, the object of each of the senses. With regard to the eye, it is the appearance or form perceived by the eye; with respect to the ear, it is the sound.

3. _Winian_, the action of perceiving and knowing. Applied to the eyes, it is the eye seeing and perceiving, or the sight.

4. _Phasa_, literally the feeling or coming in contact with objects, applied to each of the senses. With the eye, it is the passive and active impression it derives from the objects it considers, and which it conveys to the heart. With the ear it is the impression it receives, and similarly communicates to the heart.

5. _Wedana_, the sensation of pain or pleasure obtained through the senses. With the eye it is the sensation created by the sight of objects perceived by the eye, and communicated to the heart.

6. _Thangia_, the idea or persuasion resulting from the six senses, or, according to some doctors, the identity of the appearance with reality. With the eye, it is the conviction we have that such an object, perceived by the eyes, is round or square, &c., according to the impressions received by that organ.

7. _Dzetana_, the inclination or rather adhesion to good or bad, consequently to the impressions received from each of the six senses.

8. _Tahna_, concupiscence originating from the impressions of agreeableness communicated by the six senses.

9. _Witeka_, the idea or representation of objects to the mind through the agency of the senses.

10. _Witzara_, the consideration of the objects offered to the mind by the instrumentality of the senses.

11. _Dat_, the matter or elements of the six senses, or, to speak the language of our author, that on which the organs rest, that which supports them.

After the examination of the senses and of the eleven subjects just related, we find the almost boundless field of inquiry to expand in proportion as we appear to make rapid progress. Then come successively for examination: 1. The ten _Kasaings_, or the ten parts or elements to be found in each part of a living being, viz., earth, water, fire, colour, odour, flavour, and grease, to which we add the _Dziwa_ or life, and that of the organ to which belongs the part under consideration. 2. The thirty-two _Akan_, or thirty-two parts of the living body, of which the first are the hairs, the beard, the nails, the teeth, &c. 3. The twelve _Ayatana_, or seats of the six senses. Each sense is double, as far as it is considered in a double capacity, that of receiving and that of transmitting the impressions. 4. The eighteen _Dat_, or matter of the six senses. The organs afford six _Dat_; the objects that act upon the organs supply six other _Dat_; and the last six are afforded by the objects submitted to the action of the senses. 5. The twenty-two _indre_, or faculties or capabilities of the organs. Each organ has three. The eye, for instance, is capable of receiving an impression and of transmitting it; the eye really receives and transmits impressions. The _mano_, or heart, being a double organ, has six faculties; three if it be considered physically, and three if morally or intellectually. 6. The nine _Bon_, or seats occupied by the Brahmas. 7. The five _Rupa Dzan_, or degrees of contemplation proper to the Brahmas who have a form. 8. The four _Megga_, or ways that lead near to Neibban. They are followed by the Brahmas occupying the four superior seats of _Rupa_. 9. The _Arupa Dzan_, or contemplation proper to those who inhabit the four immaterial seats. 10. The nineteen _Damma_. This word means what we know as certain by the use of our mental faculties. When the _mano_, by a right use of its three faculties, has freed itself from the principle of illusion and error, then there will be the sixteen virtues or good qualities, known by the name of _Phola_ and _Megga_. 11. Finally, the twelve _Patan_, or elements that are in the _mano_, which constitute the memory, and enable man to remember, and silently repeat the impressions transmitted by the senses.

Such is the immense extent of observations the sage has to range for obtaining the perfect science. This task is truly an Herculean one; very few can perform it.

Before coming to the last article, the writer will make a remark tending to show that there is more of the analytic spirit in all what is told us by Buddhist philosophers respecting those abstruse subjects than one may be tempted to give them credit for. We have seen that the number of precepts and counsels is almost countless, yet it is agreed by all doctors that the five general precepts are the basis of all, and that he who observes them in all their bearings is as much advanced in the path of righteousness as can be expected. Again, Buddhists can never exhaust the stores of all that they have to say about the mental operations and meditation. Yet all is summed up in the comparatively short doctrine of _tseit_ and _tsedathit_. The living beings are by them infinitely modified, yet after all we find everything condensed in two words, Nama and Rupa. The theory respecting the generation of beings and their mutual dependence upon each other is a boundless field. We find, however, that, after all, _kan_, or the influence of merits and demerits, is the sole cause of and agent in the existence and modification of all beings. Mental operations are numbered by hundreds, but the six senses are, after all, the foundation on which that enumeration is raised. The general principles and primary ideas of all these metaphysical theories doubtless belong to genuine and early Buddhism. But such plain and elementary principles having been got hold of by heads of philosophical schools, and worked upon in their intellectual laboratory, there have come out therefrom at various periods those theories which have given to the doctrines of Buddhism so many different hues, and at the same time contributed so much to puzzle and torment the European student.

ARTICLE VI.

OF THE PROGRESS IN PERFECT SCIENCE.

In the preceding article we have reviewed the whole scale of beings, and analysed summarily some of them, merely to show the way to the general analysis of all others. The ultimate result of such an investigation is to acquire the conviction that all beings are subjected to mutability, pain, and illusion. This conviction, once seated in the soul, generates a generous contempt for such miserable objects. In this article we must see by what means this philosophical sentiment may be firmly rooted in the soul, and man may finally entertain a thorough disgust for all creatures, even for his own body. This loathsomeness for all that exists is immediately followed up by an ardent desire of becoming free and disentangled from all the ties and trammels that encompass other beings. When a man has become familiar with such a conviction to the extent that his thoughts, desires, and actions are entirely regulated by its immediate influence, he is free from the errors that deceive almost all other beings; he sees things as they are in their nature, and appreciates them by their real value. He estranges himself from them. He is in mind in the state of Neibban, until death will complete outwardly what was already existing inwardly in his mind.

We are all aware, says our author, that the principle of instability pervades all that exists in hell, on earth, and in the superior seats. But this important science is with many too superficially and but imperfectly understood. Our great object is to root it deeply in our mind, so that we might ever be preserved from those false impressions which too often tempt us to believe that mutability and changes are not affecting all beings. What are the obstacles that oppose in us the progress to true science? There are three. The first is _Santi_, or duration of existence. We allow ourselves to be lulled into the opinion that our life shall be much longer prolonged; that we have as yet many days, months, and years to spend in this world. This groundless supposition prevents us from attending to the principle of mutability. To counteract this dangerous impression, let us examine how all things are born only soon to die, and therefore let us have always death present to our mind. Let us consider the short duration and vanity of our being, then we will soon be convinced that the form of the body is like the waves of the sea, that swell for a moment and soon disappear; that sensation is produced like froth from the dashing of the waves; that the _Thangia_, or persuasion we acquire, has no more stability or reality than lightning; that the _Sangkara_, or concept, or production, is like the plantain-tree without strength, and that the view of objects through our senses deserves no more credit than the words of a quack. Let us reason in a similar manner on the ephemeral existence of all the beings that are in this world; we will easily come to a similar conclusion, that they are the victims of mutability, incessantly tossed about as a piece of wood by the billows of the sea.

A second obstacle to our perceiving the great principle that pain is heavily weighing on all creatures is the _iriabot_, or the four situations or positions which the body assumes, viz., sitting, standing, lying, and walking. If a man enjoys good health, he owes it chiefly to the change of situation. Were he doomed to occupy always the same place, or remain in the same situation, he would feel quite miserable. He momentarily relieves himself from his temporary afflictions by a change of situation. This relief makes him forgetful of the great principle of _duka_. But in truth our body is like a patient that requires the constant attendance of the physician. We must feed it, refresh it, wash it, clothe it, &c., to save it from hunger, thirst, dirt, and cold. What is all that but a sad and constant proof that we are slaves to pain? There is nothing but pain and affliction in this wretched world. The same fate awaits all other beings; they are all in a state of endurance and suffering, proclaiming aloud the irresistible action of duka.

A third obstacle to our being convinced that all is illusion in this world is that false persuasion which makes us to say, This is a foot, a hand, a woman, &c.; whilst these things have no reality, no consistence, but are mere shades, ready at any moment to vanish and disappear. These and like expressions being always used, impart at last a sort of conviction that they are true; but, after all, what are all these things but a compound of the four elements, or more simply nama and rupa?

In addition to this examination, the sage considers also our ideas and the operations of our mental faculties. Here he sees these ideas appearing for a moment and then disappearing; he concludes that ideas are likewise subjected to the great law of mutability. He finds as much misery in his own mind as he has met with in the exterior objects; all around his mind is only illusion. When he has reached this point, he is delivered at once of the three _Nimeit_ that make one believe that there is something real in birth, existence, and action. The destruction of all beings, of all things, is ever present to his mind. In such a state, the sage is free from all erroneous doctrines; he is disgusted with life; the exercise of meditation is easy to him, and almost uninterrupted. He is free from all passions.

Our author has another chapter devoted to the consideration of the miseries attending all living beings. To make us better informed on this subject, he desires the sage to meditate upon the miseries attending birth, existence, old age, and death; he wishes him to examine attentively the condition of all creatures, that he might never be seduced by the dazzling appearance that encompasses them. He insists at great length upon the dangers surrounding the wise man, as yet compelled to remain in contact with this material world. To make us better understand this subject, he makes use of the following similitude. A man worn out with fatigue enters a cave wherein he longs to enjoy a refreshing rest. He is just lying down in the hope of abandoning himself to the sweet delight of undisturbed repose, when, on a sudden, he perceives close by him an infuriated tiger. At that moment all idea of rest, of sleep, of happiness, vanishes away; he is taken up solely with the imminent danger of his position. Such is the position of the sage who, living among creatures, may be tempted to allow himself to look on them with an idea of enjoyment. But when he has come to that state, to be disgusted with all the modifications matter is subjected to, he is likened to the pure swan who never sets his feet in low and dirty places, but delights to rest on the bosom of a beautiful lake, of limpid and clear water. Our sage, who has in abhorrence all the filth of this miserable world, is delighted only in the consideration of truth. He is displeased with the world and all things that are therein. His mind is busily engaged in finding out the most effectual means to break with this world, and rend asunder the ties that retain him linked to it. He is like a fish caught in the net, or a frog seized by a snake, or a man shut up in a dungeon. All three strive, to their utmost, to escape the danger that threatens them and regain their liberty. Such is the condition of the perfect who has attentively considered the many snares that are around them. He, too, has but one object in view, that of freeing himself from them and obtaining the deliverance.

The best and surest means to save himself from the dangers attending existence is a profound and unremitting meditation on the three great principles: aneitsa, duka, and anatta. We will select among many reflections supplied by our author, a few on each of these principles, to convey to the reader some ideas respecting the subjects that engross much of the attention of the Buddhist sage. Most of these reflections are strikingly true, and could as well find place in the mind of a Christian as in that of a Buddhist.

Speaking of _aneitsa_, our author says: Let us reflect on this, that there is nothing permanent or stable in this world. We hold all things as a sort of borrowed property, or on tenure; we are by no means proprietors of what we possess. We acquire goods but to lose them very soon. All in nature is subjected to pain, old age, and death; everything comes to an end, either by virtue of its own condition, or by the agency of some external cause. Shall we ever be able to find in this world anything stable? No; we leave one place, but only to go and occupy another, which, in its turn, is soon vacated. No one is able to enumerate the countless changes that incessantly take place. What exists to-day disappears to-morrow. In fact, all nature is pervaded from beginning to end by the principle of mutability, which incessantly works upon it.

On the miseries of this world our philosopher speaks as follows: Pain is the essential appendage of this world. Survey, if you can, the whole of this universe, and everywhere you will find a heavy load of pain and afflictions, so harassing and oppressing that we can scarcely bear them with a tolerable amount of patience. Look at birth, examine existence during its duration, consider senses, the organs of our life. In every direction our eyes will meet with an accumulation of pain, sufferings, and miseries; on every side we are beset with dangers, difficulties, and calamities; nowhere lasting joy or permanent rest is to be found. In vain we may go in quest of health and happiness; both are chimerical objects nowhere to be met with. Everywhere we meet with afflictions.

In speaking of the _anatta_, or illusion in which we are miserably rocked as long as we stay in this world, our philosopher is equally eloquent. If we consider with some attention this world, we will never be able to discover in it anything else but name and form; and, as a necessary consequence, all that exists is but illusion. Here is the manner we must carry on our reasoning. The things that I see and know are not myself, nor from myself, nor to myself. What seems to be myself is in reality neither myself nor belongs to myself. What appears to me to be another is neither myself nor from myself. The organs of senses, such as the eyes, the ears, &c., are neither myself nor to myself. They are but illusions, or as nothing relatively to me. The form is not a form; the attributes of a living being are not attributes; beings are not beings. All that is an aggregate of the four elements, and these again are but form and name, and these two are but an illusion, destitute of reality. In a being, then, there are two attributes, form and sensation, that appear to have some more consistency than other things. Yet they have no reality; their nature and condition is to be destitute of all reality and stability.[52] Penetrated with the truth of these and like considerations, the sage declares at once that all things are neither himself nor belong to himself. Nothing, therefore, appears worthy his notice. He at once divorces himself from the world and all the things that are therein. He would fain have nothing to do with it; he holds it in supreme contempt and utter disgust.

He who has reached this lofty point of sublime science is at once secure from the snares of seduction and the path of error. He will escape from the whirlpool of human miseries, and infallibly reach the state of Neibban. The most perfect among the perfect are so much taken upon with and deeply affected by the view of Neibban, that they tend in that direction without effort. Others, somewhat less advanced in the sublime science, discover, it is true, the state of Neibban at a distance, but its sight is as yet dimmed and somewhat obscured. They want as yet to train up their mind to and perfect it in the exercise of that meditation of which we have given an abbreviated analysis.

NOTICE ON THE PHONGYIES, OR BUDDHIST MONKS, SOMETIMES CALLED TALAPOINS.[53]