Chapter V (3)

12. The town of Wethalie is supposed to have stood north of Patna on the Gunduck, not far from the place where that river joins the Ganges. The large village of Besarh, twenty miles north of Hajipur, occupies a portion of the place on which stood Wethalie. In the seventh century Buddhism was there on its decline; false doctrines, as says one of the Chinese pilgrims, were much prevailing. Nothing was to be seen at that time but a ruined town and many monasteries, almost deserted, and also falling into decay. Many signs of ancient ruins are also to be met with between Besarh and Bakra; they belong to the same city, which was both populous and wealthy. Its circumference was about twelve miles, including the two modern places of Bakra and Besarh. All the mounds of ruins have been carefully searched and described by A. Cunningham, and the sites of ancient tanks exactly laid down. There is a curious episode in the legend connected with the name of Wethalie. A courtesan, who, despite her dishonourable calling, occupied a brilliant position in the country, courted the favour of feeding Buddha with all his followers. The latter accepted her invitation, and received a beautiful grove, which she presented to him and to the assembly. It does not appear that her avocation was looked upon as a disgraceful one. It is probable that persons of this description were as much for the intellectual as for the sensual enjoyments of their visitors. There existed in Greece and at Rome something similar to what is here alluded to. According to Plutarch, Aspasia at Athens was courted by Pericles on account of her high literary attainments and political abilities. Socrates visited her sometimes in company with his disciples. Visitors took occasionally their wives to her place, for the purpose of enjoying the charms of her highly refined and instructive conversation. The same philosophical biographer does not scruple to quote sometimes the sayings of the celebrated Roman courtesan, named Flora.

13. Nala or Nalanda was a Brahmin village about seven miles north of Radzagio. It was the birthplace of the great disciple Thariputra. It seems that there was there a sort of Academia, whither the learned of Radzagio resorted to discourse on moral and philosophical subjects. The magnificent ruins, which subsist up to this day in that locality, have been minutely examined, measured, and described by several visitors. The great temple must, in the opinion of A. Cunningham, have been built in the sixth century of our era.

14. Kootheinaron is the place in the neighbourhood of which Buddha entered into the state of Neibban, or died. Some antiquarians, laying much stress on the name of a village up to this day called Kushia, have placed the position of Kootheinaron on the road between Betiah and Goruckpore. On that spot is to be seen a pyramidical-looking mound of bricks, over which spreads a large banyan tree. But, from the narrative of the legend, we must look for the site of Kootheinaron nearer to the river Higniarati or Gunduck, since the spot where Gaudama died was near to the city, and is described as surrounded on three sides by the river. Kootheinaron was situated a little north or north-west of Betiah, on or near the banks of the Gunduck. There too ruins are to be seen, which doubtless will prove to be those of Kootheinaron. The name may have subsequently migrated to the locality above mentioned.

15. Papilawana, the capital of the Mauria princes, was situated between the Rapti and the Gunduck, nearly east of Goruckpore. South of that place Fa-Hian visited the dzedi of the coals. The Mauria princes, agreeably to the text of the legend, having come too late for sharing in the partition of the relics, took with them the coals that remained after the cremation of Buddha’s remains, carried them into their country, and built a dzedi over them. It was not far from that place that the Brahmin Dauna built another dzedi over the vessel that had contained Buddha’s relics.

16. The village of Rama is the same as the Ramaganio of the Cingalese collection. The two Chinese pilgrims in their relations call that place Lan-mo. Can it be that the modern Ramnagar is indicative of the ancient Ramaganio? At all events we would not be far from the truth if we place it between the Gogra and the Rapti, but nearer to the latter, almost due west of Goruckpore.

17. The Pawa town is supposed by A. Cunningham to have occupied the same site as the large village of Padarawana, twelve miles to the west of the river Gunduck, and forty miles north-north-east of Goruckpore. A large mound of more than 200 feet in length by 120 in breadth exists in that locality. From the excavations made on the place, it is supposed that there was a courtyard, with cells for monks, on each side, the centre being, as was often the case, occupied by a dzedi. The people of Pawa obtained one-eighth of the relics, after the cremation of Buddha’s remains, and built one dzedi over them.

18. Kapilawot, or Kapilawastu, was situated between Fyzabad and Goruckpore, but a little nearer to the latter place. It was on or near the banks of the Gogra. The small river Rohini formed the boundary between the territory of Kapilawot and that of Kaulia.

19. Gaya and Buddha-Gaya are two distinct places. The first is well known as the town of Gaya. The second lies six miles southward, and is famous as the locality of the Pipal or Bodi tree, under which Gaudama obtained the Buddhahood. A tree of the same description is still to be seen on the same spot. The present one was in full vigour in 1811, when Dr. Buchanan saw it. He describes it as not being more than a hundred years old. A. Cunningham says that it is now much decayed. One large stem with three branches on the westward side are still green; but the other branches are barkless and rotten. Hwen Thsang, in his itinerary, speaks of an early renewal of that tree by King Purna Varmma, after its destruction by King Sasangka, who, with a true Brahminical and inimical feeling, dug up the very ground on which it had stood, and moistened the earth with sugar-cane juice, to prevent its renewal. The same eminent archæologist describes a massive brick temple, standing east of the Bodi tree, and with great plausibility maintains that it is the same which has been described by the above-named Chinese pilgrim. As Fa-Hian is silent respecting that temple, A. Cunningham concludes that it was erected during the sixth century of the Christian era, when Buddhism, under the favour of King Amara-sinha and some of his successors, regained a vigorous ascendancy at least in Magatha. It is probable that all the temples, the ruins of which have been examined at Buddha-Gaya, Nalanda, and Behar, having a similarity in architectural plans and ornaments, were erected during the sixth and a part of the seventh century of our era. The inference therefrom is that Buddhism was flourishing in Magatha at that period. Hwen Thsang, who has visited and described those monuments in or about 625, speaks of them in the highest terms. How long lasted the prosperous days of Buddhism in those parts? It is difficult to state with any degree of accuracy. But it seems probable that it maintained itself in a satisfactory condition until the beginning of the tenth century. It had then to give way before the irresistible and triumphant ascendancy of Brahminism.

To the south-east of the great temple is a small tank which is probably that of the Naga, who protected Buddha during one of the several stations that he made round the Bodi tree.

20. Anawadat is the name of a lake famous in Buddhist sacred history. Its etymological meaning is, agreeably to some savans, exempt of tumult, and, according to others, not brightened. This last appellation is owing probably to the high peaks that surround it and prevent its being brightened by the rays of the sun. This is certainly the famous and extensive lake, which covers a portion of the high table-land of Pamir. It has been visited and described by Lieutenant Wood. What he states from a careful observation on the spot agrees well with what is found in the itineraries of the Chinese travellers. From that high plateau which embosoms the lake flows in an eastern direction one of those small streams that form the river Ganges; whilst, in an opposite direction, the Oxus, issuing from the western slope, shapes its course nearly towards the west.

21. Udiana is a country the position of which is fixed on the banks of the Indus, between Cabul and Cashmere, west of the latter country. Gandara is, it appears, the country called Candahar by the Mussulmans, lying between the Swat and the Indus. The Burmese author mentions always Kashmera along with Gandara. This would indicate that the two places are in the vicinity of each other, and that they formed primitively one and the same state. Yaunaka is perhaps the peninsula of Guzerat. But the writer entertains serious doubts on this subject. It might be the countries situated west of the Hindu Kush, that is to say, the ancient Bactriana. The Burmese author states that Yaunaka was inhabited by a people called Pantsays. What people were they? Is it an allusion to the Greeks that had settled in Bactriana? It is not without interest to hear our Chinese traveller stating that religion was flourishing in the above-mentioned countries, whilst in the Punjaub he met with religious with whom he declined holding intercourse, and of whom he speaks in rather unfavourable terms. Hence we may conclude that heretical opinions were then prevailing in that country, and that doctrines at variance with those of Buddha had already taken a deep root, and in their growth almost choked genuine Buddhism, if it had ever been the prevailing creed in the land of the five rivers.

22. On his way down the Ganges, our pilgrim does not appear to have left his boat for any considerable time; he contents himself with mentioning a fact that to some may appear somewhat doubtful, viz., the flourishing condition of the Buddhist religion as far as the neighbourhood of the present metropolis of India. He speaks of the kingdom of Champa. Campapuri, or Karnapura, was the capital of that state. It was situated on the site of the present Bhagulpore, or not far from it. Thence Fa-Hian came to the state of Tamaralipti. The town which bore that name is the modern Tumlook, on the right bank of the Hoogly, not far from Calcutta. It was at that port that he embarked on board of a ship bound to Ceylon. Tamaralipti must have been a famous sea-port several centuries before Fa-Hian’s days. We are informed that Maheinda and his companions, who were appointed to proceed to Ceylon to preach Buddhism to the people of that island, embarked at the same place.

THE SEVEN WAYS TO NEIBBAN.

This is an abridgment of all the principles that constitute the system of Buddhism. In the LEGEND OF BUDDHA the reader has become acquainted with the life of the founder of Buddhism, the establishment of his religion, and the promulgation of his chief doctrine. In the following pages he will find compressed within narrow limits the several observances to be attended to in order to reach the goal of quiescence. As it is chiefly and principally by the help of meditation and contemplation that such a point can ever be attained, the reader must be prepared to wade up to his very chin in the somewhat muddy waters of metaphysics if he has a wish to penetrate into the very sanctuary of Buddhism.

To encourage the reader, and console him in the midst of his fatiguing journey through such dreary tracts, the writer would remind him that he has first borne up the fatigues of such a journey, and that, impelled by friendly feelings, he has endeavoured to smooth the rugged path in behalf of those that would follow him on the same errand. How far he has succeeded in his well-meant efforts he will not presume to state. But he will say this much, that if his success be commensurate with his exertions he may entertain a well-founded hope that he will not be altogether disappointed in his anticipation, and feel somewhat confident that he has afforded to the uninitiated some help to go over the difficult ground of metaphysics.

Following, in this instance, the line of conduct he has adopted through the foregoing pages of this book, the writer will allow the Buddhist author to speak for himself and explain his own views on the different subjects under consideration. His sole aim will ever be to convey as faithfully and as succinctly as possible the meaning of the original he has under his eyes. The task, however simple it may appear, is far from being an easy one, as the Burmese are utterly incapable of fully understanding the metaphysical portion of their religious system. Their ignorance is calculated to render even more obscure what is _per se_ almost beyond the range of comprehension, because they must have frequently put an erroneous interpretation on many Pali words, the meaning of which is far from being accurately determined.

Our Buddhist doctor begins his work with enumerating the advantages to be derived from a serious and constant application to the earnest study of these seven ways. “Such an exercise,” says he, “has the virtue to free us from all evils; it expands the intelligence in the highest degree, and leads straight to Neibban. Man, through it, is delivered from all errors, is happy, and becomes during his life an honour to the holy religion of Buddha.”

The various subjects he intends to treat of in this work are arranged under seven heads, which are laid down in his own original way as follows:—The observance of the precepts and the practice of meditation are the two-fold foundation of the spiritual edifice. The consideration of the nature and form of matter shall be the right foot of the sage; the investigation about the causes and principles of living beings shall be as his left foot; the application of the mind to find out the four high-roads to perfection, and the obtaining the freedom from all passions, shall be as his right and left hands; and the possession of the perfect science or knowledge shall be as his head. The happy man who shall have reached so far will be certain to obtain the deliverance.

This summary is thus divided by our guide into seven distinct parts, which will be condensed into six articles.

It is as well to add that this work, an abridged translation of which is now set before the reader, was composed at first in the Siamese language at Bangkok, and has been subsequently translated into Burmese. We find, therefore, that all the principles expounded throughout are received as genuine on the banks of the Irrawaddy as well as on those of the Meinam, and may be looked upon as a faithful exposition of the highest tenets of Buddhism, such as they are held in both countries. This observation confirms a notion which has been denied by many, viz., that the chief doctrines of Buddhism are pretty nearly the same in all the places where it has become the dominant creed. The discrepancies to be met here and there relate principally to practices and observances which present to the eyes of the observer an infinite variety of hues and forms. When Buddhism was established in several countries, it did not destroy many observances and practices that were found deeply engrafted on the customs and manners of the people; it tolerated them, and made with them a tacit compromise. As, for instance, the worship of Nats existed among the tribes of the Irrawaddy valley long before the introduction of Buddhism. Most of the superstitious rites now prevailing in Burmah originate from that belief. With the Chinese the worship of ancestors continues to subsist side by side with Buddhism, though the latter creed has nothing to do with it. In Nepaul and at Ceylon, Hindu superstitions obtrude themselves on the view of the observer to such an extent that it is not easy to state which of the two creeds obtains the preference.

ARTICLE I.

OF THE PRECEPTS.

Our author, in a truly philosophical spirit, at first puts to himself the three following questions: What is the origin of the law? What is man, the subject of the law? What is the individual who is the promulgator of the law? The three questions he answers in the following manner: 1st. All that exists is divided into two distinct parts, the things which are liable to change and obey the principle of mutability, such as matter, its modifications, and all beings which have a cause;[45] and those which are eternal and immutable, that is to say, the precepts of the law and Neibban. These have neither author nor cause; they are self-existing, eternal, and placed far beyond the reach of the influence that causes mutability. 2d. As to the publisher of the law, Buddha, he is a mere man, who during myriads of centuries has accumulated merits on merits, until he has obtained the Neibban of Kiletha, or the deliverance from all passions. From that moment till his death this eminent personage is constituted the master of religion and the doctor of the law. Owing to his perfect science he finds out and discovers all the precepts that constitute the body of the law. Impelled by his matchless benevolence towards all beings, he promulgates them for the salvation of all. He is not the inventor of those precepts; he merely discovers them by the power of the supreme intelligence, in the same manner as we perceive clearly during the night, by the help of a light, objects hitherto wrapped in utter darkness. 3d. Man, who is to be subjected to the observance of the law, is distinguished by the following characteristics. He possesses more knowledge than the animals and other beings, except the Nats and Brahmas; his intelligence and thoughts reach farther than those of other beings; he is capable of reflecting, comparing, drawing inferences, and observing freely the rules of life;[46] despite the allurement of his passions, he can free himself from the three great passions, concupiscence, anger, and ignorance; finally, he is a descendant from those Brahmas who, in the beginning of this world, came from their seat, lived on earth, and, by their eating the rice _Tsale_, lost all their glorious privileges, and became beings similar to those who are known to us under the denomination of men.

The great end to be aimed at in the observance of the precepts of the law and the exercise of meditation is the obtaining of a state of complete indifference to all things. The state of indifference alluded to does not consist in a stupid carelessness about the things of this world. It is the result of a knowledge acquired with much labour and pain. The wise man who has possessed himself of such science is no longer liable to the influence of that vulgar illusion which makes people believe in the real existence of things that have no reality about them, but subsist only on an ephemeral basis, which incessantly changes and finally vanishes away. He sees things as they truly are. He is full of contempt for things which are at best a mere illusion. This contempt generates a complete indifference for all that exists, even for his own being. He longs for the moment when it shall be given to him to cast away his own body, that he may no longer move within the circle of endless and miserable forms of existence. In this sense must be understood the state of perfect quietism or indifference, which is the last stage the wise man may reach by the help of the science he possesses. The religious of the Brahminical creed have professed the same indifference for all the accidents of life. Hence our Buddha, when he became a perfected being, looked on the wicked Dewadat with the same feelings as he did on the great Maia, his mother. Numberless Rathees or anchorites have ever been eulogised for having allowed themselves to be devoured by ferocious beasts or bit by venomous snakes, rather than offer the least resistance that could exhibit a sign of non-indifference. Entire was their unconcern towards their very body, which they knew well is, as everything else, a compound of the four elements, a mere illusion, totally distinct from self.

Five commandments constitute the very basis whereupon stand all morals, and are obligatory on all men without exception. They include five prohibitions. (It is not a little surprising that the five precepts obligatory on all men are merely five prohibitions designed not to teach men what they have to do, but warning them not to do such things as are interdicted to them. This supposes that man is prone to do certain acts which are sinful. The Buddhist law of the five precepts forbids him to yield to such propensities, but it does not teach him particular duties to perform. It does not elevate man above his original level, but it aims at preventing him from falling lower.) The five prohibitions are: Not to destroy the life of any being; not to steal; not to commit adultery; not to tell lies; not to drink any intoxicating liquors or beverages.

Our author seems to be a perfect master in casuistry, as he shows the greatest nicety and exactness in explaining all the requisite conditions that constitute a trespassing of those precepts. We will give here but a few samples of his uncommon proficiency in this science. As regards the first prohibition, he says, five things are necessary to constitute an offence against the first commandment, viz., a being that has life, the intention and will of killing that being, an act which is capable of inflicting death, and the loss of life of that being consequent on the inflicting of that action. Should but one of these conditions be wanting, the sin could not be said to have taken place, and therefore no complete trespassing of the first prohibition.

Again, as regards the second precept, five circumstances or conditions are necessary to constitute a trespassing, viz., an object belonging to another person, who neither by words nor signs showed any intention to part with it; the knowing that the owner intends to keep possession of it; having the actual intention to take away secretly or forcibly that object; an effort to become possessed of the thing by deceiving, injuring, or by mal-practices causing the owner or keeper of the thing to fall asleep; and, finally, removing the thing from its place, however short may be the distance, should it be but that of the length of a hair of the head.

For the infraction of the third precept the following conditions are required: the intention and will of sinning with any person of another sex, which comes within the denomination of Akamani-jathan, that is to say, persons whom it is forbidden to touch; acting up to that intention and the consummating of such an act. Women that fall under the above denomination are divided into twenty classes. The eight first classes include those that are under the guardianship of their parents or relatives; the ninth class comprises those affianced before they be of age; the tenth, those reserved for the king. Within the ten other classes come all those who, owing to their having been slaves, or from any other cause, have become concubines to their masters, or married their seducers, &c.

The fourth prohibition extends not only to lies, but likewise to slander, coarse and abusive expressions, and vain and useless words. The four following conditions constitute a lie, viz., saying a thing that is untrue; the intention of saying such a thing; making manifest such an intention by saying the thing; and some one’s hearing and clearly understanding the thing that is uttered. That the sin of medisance may be said to exist, it is required that the author of it should speak with the intention of causing parties to hate each other or quarrel with each other, and that the words spoken to that end should be heard and understood by the parties alluded to.

The fifth precept forbids the drinking of Sura and Meria, that is to say, of distilled liquors and of intoxicating juices extracted from fruits and flowers. The mere act of putting the liquor in the mouth does not constitute a sin; the swallowing of it is implied.

Besides these five general precepts, obligatory on all the faithful without exception, there are three other precepts, or rather counsels, that are strongly recommended to the Upasakas, or pious laymen. They are designed as barriers against the great propensity inherent in nature which causes men to exceed in all that is used, through the senses of taste, hearing, seeing, smelling, and feeling. They are so many means that help to obtain a sober moderation in the daily use of the things of the world.

The first counsel regulates all that regards eating. It forbids using any comestible from noon to daybreak of the following morning. The second interdicts the assisting at plays, comedies, and the use of flowers and essences with the intention of fondly handling and smelling them. The third prescribes the form and size of beds, which ought never to be more than one cubit high, plain and without ornaments. The use of mattresses and pillows, filled with cotton or other soft substances, is positively prohibited. The very intention of lying upon these enervating superfluities, and _a fortiori_ reclining on them, constitutes the breaking of such a command.

These three latter precepts are to be observed chiefly in the following days, on the 5th, 8th, 14th, and 15th of the waxing moon, and on the 5th, 8th, and 14th of the waning moon, as well as on the new moon. The pious Upasakas sometimes observe them during the three consecutive months of the season of Lent.

In the opinion of our author those men and women are deserving of the respectable title of Upasakas who have the greatest respect for and entertain a pious affection towards the three precious things, Buddha, the law, and the assembly of the perfect. They must ever view them as the haven of salvation and the securest asylums. They must be ready to sacrifice everything, their very life, for the sake of these three perfect things. During their lifetime, under all circumstances, they must aim at following scrupulously the instructions of Buddha, such as they are embodied in the law and preached by the Rahans.

Five offences disqualify a man for the honourable title of Upasaka, viz., the want of belief and confidence in the three precious things, the non-observance of the eight precepts, the believing in lucky and unlucky days,[47] or in good and bad fortune, the belief in omens and signs, and keeping company with the impious, who have no faith in Buddha.

We now come to the rules which are prescribed to all the Buddhist religious. They are 227 in number, and are found in a book called Patimauk. This book is the _vade mecum_ of all religious. They study it and often learn it by heart. On certain days of each month the religious assemble in the Thein. The Patimauk is then read, explained, and commented upon by one of the elders of the fraternity. It is an abridgment of the Wini, the great book of discipline. It teaches the various rules respecting the four articles offered by the faithful to the religious; that is to say, vestments, food, mats, and the ingredients for mastication. These rules likewise regulate all that relates to the mode of making prayers, devotions, walking, sitting, reclining, travelling, &c. Everything is described with a minute particularity.

Here, if any interest could be awakened, would be the place to enter into the system of casuistry carried by Buddhist religious to a point of nicety and refinement truly astonishing. Suffice it to state that they have gone over the boundless field of speculative conjectures respecting all the possible ways of fulfilling or trespassing the precepts and regulations that concern the body of religious.

Every law and precept must have a sanction. This essential requisite is not wanting in the Buddhist system. Let us examine in what consists the reward attending a regular and correct observance of the precepts, and what is the punishment inflicted on the transgressors of these ordinances. As usual, we will follow our author and allow him to make known his own opinions on this important subject. It is often inquired of us, says he, why some individuals live here during many years, whilst others appear but for a short time on the scene of this world. The reason of the difference in the respective condition of these persons is obvious and evident. The first, during their former existence, have faithfully observed the first command and refrained from killing beings, hence their long life; the second, on the contrary, have been guilty of some trespassings of this precept, and therefore the influence of their former crimes causes the shortness of their life. In a similar manner we account for all the differences that exist in the conditions of all beings. The observance or trespassing of one or several precepts creates the positions of happiness and unhappiness, of riches and poverty, of beauty and ugliness, that chequer the lives and positions of mortals in this world.

In addition to the rewards bestowed immediately in this world, there are the six seats of Nats, where all sorts of recompenses are allotted, during immense periods, to those who have correctly attended to the ordinances of the law. There are likewise places of punishment in the several hells, reserved to the transgressors of the precepts. The conditions of animal, Athoorikes and Preittas, are other states of punishment.

A lengthened account of all that relates to the blissful regions of Nats and the gloomy abodes of hell is found in one of the great Dzats, or accounts of the former existences of Gaudama, given by himself to his disciples, when he was a prince under the name of Nemi. The writer has read and partly translated this work, which delightfully reminded him of the fine episodes on similar subjects he had read in the sixth book of the Æneid. The wildest, most fertile, and inventive imagination seems to have exhausted its descriptive powers, on the one hand, in multiplying the pleasures enjoyed in the seats of Nats, and beautifying and adorning those delightful regions; and, on the other, in representing with a dark and bloody pencil the frightful picture of the numberless and horrid torments of the regions of desolation, despair, and agony.

All that is so abundantly related of the fortunate abodes of Nats in their sacred writings supplies the Buddhist religious with agreeable and inexhaustible topics of sermons which they deliver to their hearers, to excite them more effectually to bestow on them abundant alms. The credulous hearers are always told that the most conspicuous places in those regions are allotted to those who have distinguished themselves by their great liberalities. We think it idle and superfluous, uninteresting and fatiguing to repeat those fabulous accounts of the seats of Nats and abodes of hell, as given at great length by Buddhist authors. The only particulars deserving to be attended to are these: the reward is always proportionate to the sum of merits, and punishment to that of demerit. There is no eternity of reward or of punishment.[48]

This first article shall be concluded by an important remark bearing upon the system under consideration. The seats of happiness, as already mentioned, are divided into two great classes; the one including the superior, and the other the inferior seats. The latter are the six seats of Nats, and are tenanted by beings as yet under the influence of concupiscence and other passions. Those who observe the five general precepts have placed, and, as it were, established themselves on the basis whereupon stands perfection, but not yet in perfection itself; they have just crossed the threshold thereof. They are as yet imperfect; but they have prepared themselves for entering the way that leads towards perfection; that is to say, meditation, or the science of Dzan. The very reward enjoyed in those seats is, therefore, as yet an imperfection. The superior seats can only be reached by those who apply themselves to mental exercises. These exercises are the real foundation of the lofty structure of perfection and the high-road to it.

ARTICLE II.

OF MEDITATION AND ITS VARIOUS DEGREES.

This and the following articles contain subjects of so abstruse and refined a nature, that it would require one to possess the science of a Buddha to come to a right understanding of them. The difficulties arising from this study are due to the confused and very unsatisfactory ideas of the Buddhist philosophers respecting the soul and its spirituality, and perhaps to the inability of the writer to understand the vague and undefined terms employed to convey their ideas on these matters. The field of Buddhist metaphysics is, to a European, in a great measure a new one; the meaning of the terms is half-understood by the Burmese translators; definitions of terms do not convey explanations such as we anticipate, and ideas seem to run in a new channel; they assume, if we may say so, strange forms: divisions and subdivisions of the various topics have no resemblance to what a European is used to in the study of philosophy. The student feels himself ushered into a new region; he is doomed to find his way by groping. Finally, the false position assumed by the Indian philosophers, and the false conclusions they arrive at, contribute to render more complicated the task of elucidating this portion of the Buddhist system. That the difficulties may be somewhat lessened, and the pathway rendered less rugged and a little smooth, the writer proposes to avoid as much as it is in his power overcharging with Pali terms the explanations he is about to afford, under the guidance of the Buddhist author.

In the preceding article we have treated of meritorious actions that are purely exterior, and briefly alluded to the nature of the rewards bestowed on earth and in the six seats of Nats upon those who have performed these good actions. Now we leave behind all the exterior good deeds, and turn the attention of our mind to something more excellent, to those acts that are purely interior, and are performed solely by the soul and the right exercise of its faculties; that is to say, by meditation and contemplation.

The root of all human miseries is ignorance. It is the generating principle of concupiscence and other passions. It is the dark but lofty barrier that encircles all beings and retains them within the vortex of endless existences; it is the cause of all existences, and of all those illusions to which beings are miserably subjected; it causes those continual changes which take place in the production of all beings. This great cause once found and proclaimed by Buddha, it was necessary to procure a remedy to counteract the action of ignorance, and successfully oppose its progress. Another antagonistic and opposite principle had to be found, adequate to resist the baneful agency of ignorance and stem its sad and misfortune-creating influence. That principle is science or knowledge. Ignorance is but a negative agent: it is only the absence of science. Let knowledge be, and ignorance shall vanish away in the same manner as darkness is noiselessly but irresistibly dissipated by the presence of light.

All beings in this universe, says our author, are doomed to be born and die. We quit this place to go and live in another; we die here to be born elsewhere. We can never be freed from pain, old age, and death. Whether we like it or not, we must suffer and always suffer. But why is it so? Because we do not possess the perfect science. Were we blessed with it, we would infallibly look towards Neibban, and then, escaping from the pursuit of pain and miseries, we would infallibly obtain the deliverance from those evils which now incessantly press upon us. It rests with us only to perfect our intelligence, so that we might gradually attain to the perfect science, the source of all good. But by what means is so desirable an end to be obtained? By the exercise of meditation, answers, with a decided tone, our philosopher. This word implies, besides, our intellectual operations of a superior order, such as contemplation, visions, ecstasy, union, &c., which are the more or less complete results of that intellectual exercise.

The act of meditating can take place but in the heart, where resides the _mano_, or the faculty of knowing. Its object can never be but the _nam-damma_, literally the name of the thing; or, in other terms, the things of a purely intellectual nature. But it can by no means happen in the seats of the other senses or organs, such as the eyes, the ears, &c., which are only channels to communicate impressions to the faculty of _mano_.

The constitutive parts of meditation are five in number. _Witteka_, the action of raising the mind to an object; _Witzara_, the attentive consideration of that object; _Piti_, the bringing of the soul and body to a state of satisfaction; _Suka_, the pleasure enjoyed in the thing considered; _Ekatta_, the perseverance or stability of the mind in that object. There is also _Upekka_, which implies a greater and more intense degree of fixity of the mind, extending not only to one object in particular, but to all things.

It may be called the absolute quietism of the soul, and the net result of a complete course of general meditation on the universality of things. It is the last and highest point that can ever be reached.

To explain more fully the nature and definitions of the two first parts, our philosopher has recourse to the following comparison. Let us suppose a man that has to cleanse a rusty copper vessel. With one hand he grasps the vessel, and with the other he rubs it up and down, right and left. This is exactly what is done by the means of Witteka and Witzara. The first gets hold of the object of meditation, and the second causes the mind to pass and repass over it, until it has perfectly seen it in all its particulars.

The third stage in the exercise of meditation is that of Piti, which consists in a sort of transitory delectation, experienced by him who has reached that third step of mental labour. It produces on the whole frame the following effects:—It seems to him that is engaged in that exercise that the hairs of his head stand on an end, so strong is the sensation he then feels; at other times it produces in the soul sensations similar to that of the lightning that rends the atmosphere. Sometimes it is in a commotion resembling that of mighty waves breaking on the shore; at other times the subject is, as it were, carried through the air, or only raised above the ground, and occasionally it causes a chill running throughout all the limbs. When these results have been, through persevering efforts, repeatedly experienced with an ever-increasing degree of intensity, the following effects are attained:—The body and the soul are completely restrained, subdued, and composed; they are almost beyond the influence of concupiscence. Both acquire a remarkable lightness, so that the exercise of meditation offers no further trouble or labour; the natural repugnance or opposition to self-recollection is done away with, then the exercise of meditation becomes pleasing from the pleasurable state of the soul and body, and finally both parts are in a true and genuine condition, so that what there was previously in them either vicious or opposed to truth disappears at once and vanishes away. Such are the various effects experienced by the soul that has reached the degree of Piti, or mental satisfaction.

When the soul and body have thus been perfectly subdued, and freed from all that could wrongly affect them, the soul then reaches the state of _Suka_, that is to say, of perfect and permanent pleasure and inward delight. The effects or results thereof are called _Samati_, or peace or quiescence of the soul. As a matter of course, that state of inward peace has several degrees both as regards the time it lasts and the intensity of the affection. It lasts sometimes for a moment, or for a period of uncertain duration, as it happens when we reflect on some subject, or we listen to a sermon. At other times its duration is longer; when, for instance, we are about to enter into contemplation or ecstasy, and it lasts as long as we are in one of these states.

From _Piti_ originates the _Samati-tseit_, the idea or consciousness of inward quiescence. It is the secondary cause of the real joy and delight, and is followed by an unshaken resolution to adhere to all the precepts of the law. It produces in the soul a certain freshness, expansion, and ravishment in the practice of virtue. Such a state is illustrated by the following comparison. A traveller has to go over a very difficult road; he is exposed to an intense heat, and tormented with a burning thirst. Let us imagine the intensity of his delight when he finds himself on the brink of a rivulet of clear and cool water; such is precisely the state of the soul under the influence of _Piti_. The state of _Suka_ follows it very soon. It is exemplified by the condition of the traveller who has been perfectly refreshed and relieved from thirst and fatigue, and enjoys the delightful and pleasurable effects resulting therefrom.

The last state or the crowning point to be arrived at by the means of meditation is that of _Upekka_, or perfect fixity, whence originates an entire indifference to love or hatred, pleasure or pain. Passions can no more affect the soul in that happy condition. But in this, as well in the preceding states, there are several degrees, according to the various objects it refers to. In the _Upekka_, relating to the five senses, man is no more affected by beautiful or unseemly objects, by harsh or melodious sounds, &c. As to what refers to creatures, man has neither love nor dislike for them. Man obtains the state of _Upekka_, relating to science or knowledge, by examining and considering all things through the medium of the three great principles, _aneitsa_, _duka_, _anatta_, that is to say, change, pain, and illusion. There is also the _uirya upekka_; as when a man, after great struggles and efforts to obtain a certain object, sees that he cannot reach it, he becomes indifferent to it, and without trouble or the least disquiet gives up the undertaking. There are many other effects of the Upekka mentioned by our author, the enumeration of which would prove tedious. What has been just stated is sufficient to afford a correct idea of the nature of the highest state of meditation that the human mind can ever reach. The last and most transcendent result of the condition of Upekka is this: when an individual, by successful exertions, has ascended to the top of the spiritual ladder, there is a certain virtue that attracts everything to him. He becomes a centre to which all appear to converge. He is like the central point of our planet, that ever remains distinct from the bodies it incessantly draws to itself. Seated in the centre of the most complete quietism, the sage contemplates, without the least effort, the unclouded truth that indefinitely unfolds itself before him. Hence, as our author observes, the sage that has reached the state of Upekka has no more to pass successively through the four preceding stages to be enabled to meditate; that is to say, he no more requires the help of thought, reflection, satisfaction, and pleasure. He is in the middle of the cloudless atmosphere of truth which he enjoys, and therein remains as unmoved as truth itself.

As stated in the previous article, the observance of the precepts, or the performance of exterior good actions, draws abundant rewards upon those who faithfully comply with them. These rewards are bestowed either in the seat of man or in the six abodes of Nats, which we will agree to call the six inferior heavens, where concupiscence as yet holds its empire.

The inward good deeds produced by the operation of the intellectual faculties of the soul being of an incomparably greater value than the external ones, the recompense of the former is of a higher order than that of the latter. Hence there are twenty superior heavens reserved to the sages that have made progress in meditation.[49] The accounts of the Buddhists respecting the extent of these seats, their respective distance in a perpendicular direction, the myriads of centuries to stay in each of them, &c., are puerilities not worth attending to, and in no way belonging to the genuine and original Buddhism. They are the inventions in subsequent ages of individuals who wished to emulate their neighbours and rivals, the Hindus, at a time when the latter substituted the gross and revolting idolatry of the Puranas for the purer doctrines of the Vedas. But what is directly to our purpose is the distinction of these twenty seats into two classes. The first comprises sixteen seats, under the designation of _Rupa_, or matter; the second includes four seats, called _Arupa_, or immaterial abodes or conditions. Here are located on a grand and immense scale, according to their respective proficiency in science and meditation, the beings that have striven to advance in knowledge by the exertion of the mental faculties. The general appellation given to each class bears a great meaning, and therefore deserves explanation. In the sixteen seats of _Rupa_ are placed the contemplatives who have as yet a body, and have not been hitherto able to disengage themselves from some affection to matter. The subjects of their meditations are still the beings inhabiting this material world, together with some of the _Kathain_, or coarser portion of their being. But in the four seats called _Arupa_, which terminate the series of Buddhist heavens, the contemplatives are destitute of shape and body; they are almost brought to the condition of pure spirits. In their sublime and lofty flight in the regions of spiritualism, they seem to have bid a last farewell to this world, and to be no longer concerned with material things.

Let us glance rapidly over these various seats, and pay a visit to the beings that have been rewarded with a place in them, owing to their great proficiency in the mental exercise of meditation. We will begin with the lowest seat, and from it successively ascend to the loftiest. We must bear in remembrance that there are, as above stated, five degrees of meditation or five parts, viz., perception, reflection, satisfaction, happiness, and fixity. He who has been much exercised in the first degree shall inhabit one of the three first seats of Rupa. Those who, leaving aside the first degree, shall delight in the second and third, shall inhabit, according to their respective progress, one of the three following seats. Those who take delight only in the fourth degree, having no further aid of the three first parts, perception, consideration, and satisfaction, shall be located in the seventh, eighth, and ninth seats. When the fifth degree of Dzan, or meditation, has been attained, that is to say, when a privileged contemplative is able to meditate and contemplate, without having recourse to the representation and consideration of the object, without allowing himself to be influenced by pleasures or joy, then he has attained to the state of fixity and indifference; he occupies the tenth and eleventh seats. The five remaining seats bear the collective name of _Thoodawata_, or abodes of the pure or perfect, that is to say, the dwelling-place of those who have entered into the current of perfection. They are inhabited by the Kaliana Putadzans, and the four sorts of contemplatives called Thautapan, Thakadagan, Anagan, and Rahandas. The latter have entered into the _Thoda_, or current of perfection. The Thautapans and Thakadagans are pure and exempt from all influence of demerits; the Anagans are delivered from the five concupiscences. The Rahandas are enjoying a perfect indifference for all. They are strangers to such language as this: I am great, I am greater, I am greatest. Such terms of comparison are but mere illusions; they are deceitful sounds that confuse, distract, and bewilder the ignorant.

Above the _Thoodawata_ seats are the four called _Arupa_, or immaterial. The denizens of these places first recognise that the miseries attending man in this world have their origin in the body. They then conceive the utmost disgust and horror for it; they long for the dissolution of this agent to all wickedness. So great is their horror for bodies and matter, that they no longer select them for subjects of meditation; they endeavour to cross beyond the limits of materiality, and launch forth into the boundless space, where this material world does not seem to reach. The inhabitants of the first seat have assumed for their subject of meditation the _Akasa_, the air, the fluid of the atmosphere, or the space. Those of the second meditate on the _Winiana_, or the spirit, or life of beings, taken in an abstract sense; those of the third contemplate the _Akintzi_, or immensity; those of the fourth, _Newathagnia_, lose themselves in the infinity.

By what mental process has the sage to pass in order to reach the first degree of sublime contemplation? He will have to begin with the consideration of the form of some material object, say one of the four elements. Let him afterwards set aside those _Kathain_, or material portions of the element brought under consideration, and occupy his mind with the ether, or fluid, or space; the former, that is to say, the kathain, shall disappear to give place to something divested of all those coarser forms, and the mind shall be fixed only on the _akatha_. The sage then shall repeat ten hundred thousand times these words,—The space or air is infinite, until there will appear at last the first _tseit_, or idea of _arupa_. In a similar manner, the _tseit akan_, or the idea of conformity with purpose, disappears; then begins the science of _upekka_, or indifference, with its four degrees; the idea that then succeeds is precisely that of _akasa ananda_, or infinite ether, or space. This unintelligible mental process is explained by a comparison. If they shut with a white cloth the opening of a window, the persons inside the room, turning their eyes in the direction of the opening, see nothing but the white cloth. Should the cloth be suddenly removed, they perceive nothing but that portion of the space corresponding with the extent of the window. The piece of cloth represents the material forms, that are the subjects of meditation, or contemplation, of those living in the seats of _Rupa_; the free opening of the window exemplifies the subjects of contemplation reserved to the first class of _arupa_. Having reached so far, the contemplative soon feels the utmost disgust for all material forms, and is entirely delivered from the three _Thagnia_, or false persuasions, supplied by matter, by the action of the senses, and by the result of merits and demerits. He is displeased with all the coarser forms of beings. The action of the contemplative has its sphere in the _mano_, or seat of knowledge. The ideas originating from the action of the senses have no share in that purely intellectual labour. In that state, the sage has fallen into a condition of so perfect abstraction, that all the accidents on the part of the elements can produce no effect over him. The action of the senses is completely suspended during all the time that the contemplation lasts. In fact this is nothing else but _thamabat_, or ecstasy.

The same course of meditation must be followed by the sages inhabiting the other three seats; only the object to be contemplated will be different.

Having explained the important subject of meditation, endeavoured to show the different parts or degrees of that intellectual exercise, and given a faint outline of the recompenses bestowed on those that have distinguished themselves by proficiency in that exercise, we have now to follow our author, and, with him, make ourselves acquainted with the principal subjects that attract the attention of the contemplative.

ARTICLE III.

OF THE NATURE OF BEINGS.