[1] Phralaong having overcome with uncommon fort.i.tude the numberless obstacles which he had encountered on the part of men, will have now to meet another foe, perhaps more formidable, a wicked Nat, or demon. His name, according to its orthography, is Mar or Mara, but the Burmese call him Manh, which means pride. Manh is, therefore, the evil spirit of pride, or rather personified pride, and the enemy of mankind, ever ready to oppose the benevolent designs and generous efforts of Buddha in carrying on his great undertaking, conceived to benefit humanity, by teaching men the way that leads to deliverance from all miseries. The first plan concocted by Manh for stopping, at the very outset, the progress of Phralaong, was to flatter his ambition by promising him _all the kingdoms of this world and their glory_. From that day the tempter never lost sight of the benevolent Buddha, but followed him everywhere, endeavouring to prevent the immense success that was to attend his future mission. The evil propensities which const.i.tute, as it were, the very essence of Manh's nature, are concupiscence, envy, and an irresistible p.r.o.neness to do harm. The devil indeed could hardly be made up of worse materials.

It is really interesting through the course of this Legend to read of the uninterrupted efforts made by the personification of evil to thwart Buddha in all his benevolent designs. The antagonism begins now, but it will be maintained with an obstinate and prolonged activity during the whole life of Buddha.

[2] This circ.u.mstance explains one peculiarity observable in all the statues representing Buddha. The head is invariably covered with sharp points, resembling those thorns with which the thick envelope of the durian fruit is armed. Often I had inquired as to the motive that induced native sculptors to leave on the head of all statues that sort of inverted nails, without ever being able to obtain any satisfactory answer. It was only after having read this pa.s.sage of the life of Buddha that I was enabled to account for this apparently singular custom, which is designed to remind all Buddhists of the ever-continued wonder whereby the hairs which remained on Buddha's head never grew longer from the day he cut them with his sword.

[3] Every talapoin or recluse must be provided with one needle, wherewith he is to sew his dress, one hatchet to cut the wood he may be in need of, either for erecting a shelter for himself or for other purposes, and one filter to strain the water he intends to drink, that it might be cleared from all impurities, but chiefly of insects or any living body that might be in it, which would expose the drinker thereof to the enormous sin of causing the death of some animal.

[4] The various accounts that are given of the horse Kantika, and the grief he feels at parting with his master, grief which reaches so far as to cause his death, may appear somewhat extraordinary, puerile, and ridiculous to every one except to Buddhists. One great principle of that religious system is that man does not differ from animals in nature, but only in relative perfection. In animals there are souls as well as in men, but these souls, on account of the paucity of their merits and the multiplicity of their demerits, are yet in a very imperfect state. When the law of demerits grows weak, and that of merits gathers strength, the soul, though continuing to inhabit the body of animals, has the knowledge of good and evil, and can attain to a certain degree of perfection. Buddhistic writings supply many instances of this belief. Whilst Buddha was in the desert, an elephant ministered to all his wants. As a reward for such a series of services, Buddha preached to him the law, and led him at once to the deliverance, that is to say, to the state of Neibban. When one animal has progressed so far in the way of merits as to be able to discern between good and bad, it is said that he is ripe, or fit to become man. The horse Kantika seems to have reached that state of full ripeness, since, after his death, he pa.s.sed to the state of Nat. This peculiar tenet of Buddhistic faith accounts for the first of the five great commands, which extends the formal injunction of "thou shalt not kill" to animals. When a candidate is admitted, according to the prescriptions contained in the sacred Kambawa, into the order of Rahans, he is expressly and solemnly commanded to refrain from committing four sins, which would deprive him _de facto_ of the dignity he has been elevated to. The taking away willingly of the life of anything animated, is one of these four trespa.s.sings.

[5] The fact of Buddha placing himself under the tuition of two masters or teachers, leading an ascetic life, to learn from them notions of the most abstruse nature, establishes, beyond all doubt, the high antiquity of the existence in India of a large number of individuals, who, living in some retired spot, far from the tumult of society, endeavoured, by constant application, to dive into the deepest recesses of morals and metaphysics. The fame of the learning of many among them attracted to their solitude crowds of disciples, anxious to study under such eminent masters. Hence we see some of these Rathees at the head of four or five hundred disciples. There is no doubt that the most distinguished Rathees became the founders of many of those philosophico-religious schools for which India was renowned from the remotest antiquity. Like many others who thirsted for knowledge, Phralaong resorted to the schools of the Rathees, as to the then most celebrated seats of learning.

From this fact we may be allowed to draw another inference, which may be considered as a consequence of what has been stated in a foregoing note, regarding the superior antiquity of Brahminism over Buddhism. Phralaong was brought up in the bosom of a society regulated and governed by Brahminical inst.i.tutions.

He must have been imbued from the earliest days of his elementary education with the notions generally taught, viz.: the Brahminical ones. When he grew up and began to think for himself, he was displeased with certain doctrines which did not tally with his own ideas. Following the example of many that had preceded him in the way of innovation, he boldly shaped his course in a new direction, and soon arrived at a final issue on many points, both with his teachers and some of the doctrines generally received in the society in which he had been brought up. We may, therefore, safely conclude that the doctrines supposed to have been preached by the latest Buddha are but an off-shoot of Brahminism. This may serve to account for the great resemblance subsisting between many doctrines of both creeds.

The cardinal points on which these two systems essentially differ are the beginning and the end of living beings. Between these two extremes there is a mult.i.tude of points on which both systems so perfectly agree that they appear blended together.

The Rathees seem, according to the inst.i.tutes of Menoo, to have been first in observing two practices, much enforced by the Wini in subsequent times. They were supported by the alms bestowed on them by their disciples and the admirers of their singular mode of life. They were courted and esteemed by the world, in proportion to the contempt they appeared to hold it in. Denying to themselves the pleasures which were opposed to their austere life, they observed, as long as they remained Rathees, the rules of the strictest celibacy.

Phralaong, preparing himself for his future high calling, began to study the science of _Dzan_ under distinguished masters. What is meant by Dzan? This Pali word means thought, reflection, meditation. It is often designed by the Burmese to mean a peculiar state of the soul that has already made great progress in the way of perfection. Phralaong intended, by placing himself under the direction of those eminent teachers, to learn the great art of training his mind for the obtaining, by constant and well-directed meditations, of high mental attainments. In the book of Buddhistic metaphysics, I have found the science of Dzan divided into five parts, or rather five steps, which the mind has to ascend successively ere it can enjoy a state of perfect quiescence, the highest point a perfected being can arrive at before reaching the state of Neibban. In the first step the soul searches after what is good and perfect, and having discovered it, turns its attention and the energy of its faculties towards it. In the second, the soul begins to contemplate steadily what it has first discovered, and rivets upon it its attention. In the third stage, the soul fondly relishes, and is, as it were, entirely taken with it. In the fourth, the soul calmly enjoys and quietly feasts on the pure truths it has loved in the former state. In the fifth, the soul, perfectly satiated with the knowledge of truth, remains in a state of complete quietude, perfect fixity, unmoved stability, which nothing can any longer alter or disturb. The Burmese and all Buddhists, always fond of what is wonderful, attribute supernatural perfections to those who have so far advanced in mental attainments. Their bodies become, as it were, half-spiritualised, so that they can, according to their wishes, carry themselves through the air from one place to another, without the least hindrance or difficulty.

[6] Kamatan means the fixing of the attention on one object, so as to investigate thoroughly all its const.i.tuent parts, its principle and origin, its existence and its final destruction.

It is that part of metaphysics which treats of the beginning, nature, and end of beings. To become proficient in that science, a man must be gifted with a most extensive knowledge and an a.n.a.lysing mind of no common cast. The process of Kamatan is as follows. Let it be supposed that man intends to contemplate one of the four elements, fire, for instance; he abstracts himself from every object which is not fire, and devotes all his attention to the contemplation of that object alone; he examines the nature of fire, and finding it a compound of several distinct parts, he investigates the cause or causes that keep those parts together, and soon discovers that they are but accidental ones, the action whereof may be impeded or destroyed by the occurrence of any sudden accident. He concludes that fire has but a fict.i.tious ephemeral existence. The same method is followed in examining the other elements, and gradually all other things he may come in contact with, and his final conclusion is, that all things placed without him are dest.i.tute of real existence, being mere illusions, divested of all reality. He infers, again, that all things are subjected to the law of incessant change, without fixity or stability. The wise man, therefore, can feel no attachment to objects which, in his own opinion, are but illusions and deception: his mind can nowhere find rest in the midst of illusions always succeeding to each other. Having surveyed all that is distinct of self, he applies himself to the work of investigating the origin and nature of his body. After a lengthened examination, he arrives, as a matter of course, at the same conclusion. His body is a mere illusion without reality, subjected to changes and destruction. He feels that it is as yet distinct from self. He despises his body, as he does everything else, and has no concern for it. He longs for the state of Neibban, as the only one worthy of the wise man's earnest desire. By such a preliminary step, the student, having estranged himself from this world of illusions, advances towards the study of the excellent works which will pave the way to Neibban. The Burmese reckon forty Kamatans. They are often repeated over by devotees, whose weak intellect is utterly incapable of understanding the meaning they are designed to convey to the mind.

Notwithstanding his singular apt.i.tude in acquiring knowledge, Phralaong devoted six whole years, in the solitude of Oorouwela, busily engaged in mastering the profound science he aimed at acquiring. It was during that time that he received the visits of five Rahans, whose chief was named Koondanha. They were very probably, like so many of their profession, travelling about in search of knowledge. They placed themselves under the direction of Phralaong, and in exchange for the lessons they received from him, they served him as humble and grateful disciples are wont to attend on a highly esteemed teacher. In this, as well as many other circ.u.mstances, we see that, previous to Gaudama's preachings, there already existed in India an order of devotees or enthusiasts, who lived secluded from the world, devoted to the study of religious doctrines and the practice of virtues of the highest order. The order of Buddhistic monks or talapoins, which was subsequently established by the author of Buddhism, is but a modification of what actually subsisted in full vigour in his own country and in his own time.

[7] In a Buddhistic point of view the only reason that may be a.s.signed for the extraordinary fast of Phralaong is the satisfaction of showing to the world the display of wonderful action. Fasting and other works of mortification have always been much practised by the Indian philosophers of past ages, who thereby attracted the notice, respect, admiration, and veneration of the world. Such rigorous exercises, too, were deemed of great help for enabling the soul to have a more perfect control over the senses, and subjecting them to the empire of reason. They are also conducive towards the calm and undisturbed state in which the soul is better fitted for the arduous task of constant meditation. The fast of Gaudama, preparatory to his obtaining the Buddhaship, recalls to mind that which our Lord underwent ere He began His divine mission.

If the writer, in the course of this work, has made once or twice a remark of similar import, he has done so, not with the intention of drawing a parallel as between facts, but to communicate to the reader the feelings of surprise and astonishment he experienced when he thought he met with circ.u.mstances respecting the founder of Buddhism which apparently bore great similarity to some connected with the mission of our Saviour.

[8] Bells are common in Burmah, and the people of that country are well acquainted with the art of casting them. Most of the bells to be seen in the paG.o.das are of small dimensions, and differing in shape somewhat from those used in Europe. The inferior part is less widened, and there is a large hole in the centre of the upper part. No tongue is hung in the interior, but the sound is produced by striking with a horn of deer or elk the outward surface of the lower part. No belfry is erected for the bells; they are fixed on a piece of timber, laid horizontally, and supported at its two extremities by two posts, at such a height that the inferior part of the bell is raised about five feet above the ground.

The largest specimens of Burmese art in casting bells of great weight are the two bells to be seen, the one in the large paG.o.da of Rangoon, called Shway Dagon, and the other at Mingon, about twelve or fifteen miles north of Amerapoura, on the western bank of the Irrawaddy. The first, in the town of Rangoon, was cast in 1842, when King Tharawaddy visited the place, with the intention of founding a new city, more distant from the river, and nearer to the mount upon which rises the splendid Shway Dagon. In its shape and form it exactly resembles the kind of bells above described. Here are some particulars respecting that large piece of metal, collected from the inscription to be seen upon it. It was cast on the fifth day of the full moon of Tabodwai (February), 1203 of the Burmese era. The weight of metal is 94,682 lbs.; its height 9-1/2 cubits; its diameter 5 cubits; its thickness 20 fingers or 15 inches. But during the process of melting, the well-disposed came forward and threw in copper, silver, and gold in great quant.i.ties. It is supposed, says the writer of the inscription, that in this way the weight was increased one-fourth.

The bell of Mingon was cast in the beginning of this century. In shape and form it resembles our bells in Europe. It is probable that some foreigner residing at Ava suggested the idea of giving such an unusual form to that monumental bell. Its height is 18 feet, besides 7 feet for hanging apparatus. It has 17 feet in diameter, and from 10 to 12 inches in thickness. Its weight is supposed to exceed two hundred thousand English pounds.

In the interior large yellowish and greyish streaks indicate that considerable quant.i.ties of gold and silver had been thrown in during the process of melting. No idea can at present be had of the power of the sound of that bell, as its enormous weight has caused the pillars that support it partially to give way. To prevent a fatal disaster, the orifice of the bell has been made to rest on large short posts, sunk in the ground and rising about three feet above it. In no respect can these bells bear any comparison with those of Europe. They are mightily rough and rude attempts at doing works on a scale far surpa.s.sing the abilities of native workmen, who otherwise succeed tolerably well in casting the comparatively small bells commonly met with in the courtyards of paG.o.das.

[9] One of the genuine characters of Buddhism is correctly exhibited in this observation of Phralaong's respecting fasts, mortifications, and other self-inflicted penances. They are not looked upon as the immediate way leading to perfection, nor as _a portion_ or a part of perfection itself. Such deeds are but means resorted to for weakening pa.s.sions and increasing the power of the spiritual principle over the natural one: they are preparatory to the great work of meditation or the study of truth, which is the only high-road to perfection. To the sage that has already begun the laborious task of investigating truth, such practices are of no use, and are nowhere insisted on as necessary, or even useful. In the book of discipline, no mention is made of them. The life of the initiated is one of self-denial; all superfluities and luxuries are strictly interdicted; all that is calculated to minister to pa.s.sions and pleasure is carefully excluded. But the great austerities and macerations practised by the religious of the Brahminical sect are at once rejected by the Buddhist sages as unprofitable and unnecessary to them. The inmates of the Buddhist monasteries in our days are never seen indulging in those cruel, disgusting, and unnatural practices performed from time immemorial by some of their brethren of the Hindu persuasion. This const.i.tutes one of the princ.i.p.al differences or discrepancies between the two systems. With the founder of Buddhism fasts and penitential deeds are of great concern to him who is as yet in the world, living under the tyrannical yoke of pa.s.sions and the influence of the senses. By him they are viewed as powerful auxiliaries in the spiritual warfare for obtaining the mastery over pa.s.sions.

This point once gained, the sage can at once dispense with their aid as being no longer required. The follower of the Hindu creed looks upon those practices as _per se_ eminently meritorious and capable of leading him to perfection; hence the mania for carrying those observances to a degree revolting to reason, and even to the plain good sense of the people.

CHAPTER V.

_Thoodzata's offering to Phralaong -- His five dreams -- He shapes his course towards the gniaong tree -- Miraculous appearance of a throne -- Victory of Phralaong over Manh Nat -- His meditations during forty-nine days near the Bodi tree -- He at last obtains the perfect science -- He overcomes the temptation directed against him by the daughters of Manh -- Buddha preaches the law to a Pounha and to two merchants._

At that time, in the solitude of Oorouwela, there lived in a village a rich man, named Thena. He had a daughter named Thoodzata. Having attained the years of p.u.b.erty, she repaired to a place where there was a gniaong tree, and made the following prayer to the Nat guardian of the place[1]:--"If I marry a husband that will prove a suitable match, and the first fruit of our union be a male child, I will spend annually in alms deeds 100,000 pieces of silver, and make an offering at this spot."

Her prayer was heard, and its twofold object granted. When Phralaong had ended the six years of his fasting and mortification, on the day of the full moon of the month Katson, Thoodzata was preparing to make her grateful offering to the Nat of the place. She had been keeping one thousand cows in a place abounding with sweet vines; the milk of those thousand was given to five hundred cows; these again fed with their own milk two hundred and fifty others, and so on, in a diminishing proportion, until it happened that sixteen cows fed eight others with their milk. So these eight cows gave a milk, rich, sweet, and flavoured beyond all description.

On the day of the full moon of Katson,[2] Thoodzata rose at an early hour to make ready her offering, and disposed everything that the cows should be simultaneously milked. When they were to be milked, the young calves of their own accord kept at a distance; and as soon as the vessels were brought near, the milk began to flow in streams from the udders into the vessels. She took the milk and poured it into a large caldron, set on the fire which she had herself kindled. The milk began to boil; bubbles formed on the surface of the liquid, turned on the right and sunk in, not a single drop being spilt out; no smoke arose from the fireplace. Four kings of Nats watched about while the caldron was boiling; the great Brahma kept open an umbrella over it; a Thagia brought fuel and fed the fire. Other Nats, by their supernatural power, infused honey into the milk, and communicated thereto a flavour, such as the like is not to be found in the abode of men. On this occasion alone, and on the day Phralaong entered the state of Neibban, the Nats infused honey into his food. Wondering at the so many extraordinary signs which she saw, Thoodzata called her female slave, named Sounama, related to her all that she had observed, and directed her to go to the gniaong tree, and clear the place where she intended to make her offering. The servant, complying with her mistress' direction, soon arrived at the foot of the tree.

On that very night Phralaong had had five dreams.[3] 1st, It appeared to him that the earth was his sleeping place, with the Himawonta for his pillow. His right hand rested on the western ocean, his left on the eastern ocean, and his feet on the southern ocean. 2nd, A kind of gra.s.s, named Tyria, appeared to grow out of his navel and reach to the skies.

3rd, Ants of a white appearance ascended from his feet to the knee and covered his legs. 4th, Birds of varied colour and size appeared to come from all directions and fall at his feet, when, on a sudden, they all appeared white. 5th, It seemed to him that he was walking on a mountain of filth, and that he pa.s.sed over it without being in the least contaminated.

Phralaong, awaking from his sleep, said to himself, after having reflected for a while on those five dreams,--"Today I shall certainly become a Buddha." Thereupon he rose instantly, washed his hands and face, put on his dress, and quietly waited the break of day, to go out in quest of his food. The moment being arrived to go out, he took up his patta, and walked in the direction of the gniaong tree. The whole tree was made shining by the rays which issued from his person; he rested there for a while. At that very moment arrived Sounama, to clear, according to her mistress' orders, the place for her offering. As she approached, she saw Phralaong at the foot of the tree. The rays of light which beamed out of his person were reflected on the tree, which exhibited a most splendid and dazzling appearance. On observing this wonder, Sounama said to herself: "Of course the Nat has come down from the tree to receive the offering with his own hands." Overcome with an unutterable joy, she immediately ran to her mistress and related her adventure. Thoodzata was delighted at this occurrence, and wishing to give a substantial proof of her grat.i.tude for such good news, she said to Sounama: "From this moment you are no more my servant; I adopt you for my elder daughter." She gave her instantly all the ornaments suitable to her new position. It is customary for all the Phralaongs to be provided, on the day they are to become Buddha, with a gold cup of an immense value. Thoodzata ordered a golden vessel to be brought, and poured therein the nogana or boiled milk. As the water glides from the leaf of the water-lily without leaving thereon any trace, so the nogana slided from the pot into the golden cup and filled it up. She covered this cup with another of the same precious metal, and wrapped up the whole with a white cloth. She forthwith put on her finest dress, and, becomingly attired, she carried the golden cup over her head; and with a decent gravity walked towards the gniaong tree. Overwhelmed with joy at seeing Phralaong, she reverentially advanced towards him, whom she mistook for a Nat. When near him, she placed gently the golden vessel on the ground, and offered him in a gold basin scented water to wash his hands. At that moment, the earthen patta offered to Phralaong by the Brahma Gatikara disappeared. Perceiving that his patta had disappeared, he stretched forth his right hand, and washed it in the scented water; at the same time Thoodzata presented to him the golden cup containing the nogana. Having observed that she had caught the eyes of Phralaong, she said to him: "My Lord Nat, I beg to offer you this food, together with the vessel that contains it." Having respectfully bowed down to him, she continued: "May your joy and happiness be as great as mine; may you always delight in the happiest rest, ever surrounded by a great and brilliant retinue." Making then the offering of the gold cup, worth 100,000 pieces of silver, with the same disinterestedness as if she had given over only the dry leaf of a tree, she withdrew and returned to her home with a heart overflowing with joy.

Phralaong rising up took with him the golden cup, and having turned to the left of the gniaong tree, went to the bank of the river Neritzara, to a place where more than 100,000 Buddhas had bathed, ere they obtained the supreme intelligence. On the banks of that river is a bathing-place.

Having left on that spot his golden cup, he undressed himself, and descended into the river. When he had bathed, he came out and put on his yellow robe, which in shape and form resembled that of his predecessors.

He sat down, his face turned towards the east; his face resembled in appearance a well-ripe palm-fruit. He divided his exquisite fruit into forty-nine mouthfuls, which he ate entire, without mixing any water with it. During forty-nine days he spent round the Bodi tree, Buddha never bathed, nor took any food, nor experienced the least want. His appearance and countenance remained unchanged; he spent the whole time absorbed, as it were, in an uninterrupted meditation. Holding up in his hands the empty golden vessel, Phralaong made the following prayer: "If on this day I am to become a Buddha, let this cup float on the water and ascend the stream." Whereupon he flung it into the stream, when, by the power and influence of Phralaong's former good works, the vessel, gently gliding towards the middle of the river, and then beating up the stream, ascended it with the swiftness of a horse to the distance of eighty cubits, when it stopped, sunk into a whirlpool, went down to the country of Naga, and made a noise, on coming in contact with and striking against the three vessels of the three last Buddhas, viz.: Kaukathan, Gaunagong, and Kathaba. On hearing this unusual noise, the chief of Nagas awoke from his sleep, and said: "How is this? yesterday, a Buddha appeared in the world; today, again, there is another." And in more than one hundred stanzas he sung praises to Buddha.

On the banks of the river Neritzara there is a grove of Sala trees, whither Phralaong repaired to spend the day under their cooling shade.

In the evening he rose up and walked with the dignified and n.o.ble bearing of a lion, in a road eight oothabas wide, made by the Nats, and strewed with flowers, towards the gniaong tree. The Nats, Nagas, and Galongs joined in singing praises to him, playing instruments, and making offerings of the finest flowers and most exquisite perfumes, brought from their own seats. The same rejoicings took place in ten thousand other worlds. Whilst on his way towards the tree, he met with a young man, just returning with a gra.s.s-load he had cut in the fields.

Foreseeing that Phralaong might require some portion of it for his use, he presented him an offering of eight handfuls of gra.s.s, which were willingly accepted.

Arrived close to the gniaong tree,[4] Phralaong stopped at the south of the tree, his face turned towards the north, when, on a sudden, the southern point of the globe seemed to lower down to the h.e.l.l Awidzi, the lowest of all, whilst the northern one appeared to reach the sky. Then he said, "Verily this is not the place where I shall become a Buddha."

Thence Phralaong went on his right side towards the east of the tree, and standing up, his face turned towards the west, he said, "This is indeed the place where all the preceding Buddhas have obtained the supreme intelligence. Here, too, is the very spot whereupon I shall become a Buddha, and set up my throne." He took, by one of their extremities, the eight handfuls of gra.s.s and scattered them on the ground, when, on a sudden, there appeared emerging, as it were, from the bottom of the earth, a throne fourteen cubits high, adorned with the choicest sculptures and paintings, superior in perfection to all that art could produce. Phralaong, then facing the east, uttered the following imprecation: "If I am not destined to become a Buddha, may my bones, veins, and skin remain on this throne, and my blood and flesh be dried up." He then ascended the throne, with his back turned against the tree, and his face towards the east. He sat down in a cross-legged position, firmly resolved never to vacate the throne, ere he had become a Buddha. Such firmness of purpose, which the combined elements could not shake for a moment, no one ought to think of ever becoming possessed of.

Whilst Phralaong was sitting on the throne in that cross-legged position, Manh Nat said to himself, "I will not suffer Prince Theiddat to overstep the boundaries of my empire." He summoned all his warriors and shouted to them. On hearing their chief's voice, the warriors gathered thick round his person. His countless followers in front, on his right and on his left, reached to the distance of eighteen youdzanas, and above him to that of nine only. Behind him, they extended to the very limits of the world. The cries of that immense mult.i.tude were re-echoed at a distance of ten thousand youdzanas, and resembled the roaring of the mighty sea. Manh Nat rode the elephant Girimegala, measuring in length five youdzanas. Supplied with one thousand right arms, he wielded all sorts of the most deadly weapons. His countless warriors, to avoid confusion, were all disposed in ranks, bearing their respective armour. They appeared like immense clouds, slowly rolling on and converging towards Phralaong.

At that time, Nats surrounded Phralaong, singing praises to him; the chief Thagia was playing on his conch, whereof a single blowing resounds for four entire months; the chief Naga was uttering stanzas in his honour; a chief Brahma held over him the white umbrella. On the approach of Manh Nat's army, they were all seized with an uncontrollable fear, and fled to their respective places. The Naga dived into the bottom of the earth, to a depth of five hundred youdzanas, and covering his face with his two wings, fell into a deep sleep. The Thagia, swinging his conch upon his shoulders, ran to the extremity of the world. The Brahma, holding still the umbrella by the extremity of the handle, went up to his own country. Phralaong was, therefore, left alone. Manh Nat, turning to his followers, cried to them, "There is, indeed, no one equal to the Prince Theiddat; let us not attack him in front, but let us a.s.sail him from the north side."

At that moment, Phralaong, lifting his eyes, looked on his right, left, and front, for the crowd of Nats, Brahmas, and Thagias that were paying him their respects. But they had all disappeared. He saw the army of Manh Nat coming thick upon him from the north, like a mighty storm.

"What!" said he, "is it against me alone that such a countless crowd of warriors has been a.s.sembled? I have no one to help me, no father, no brothers, no sisters, no friends, and no relatives. But I have with me the ten great virtues which I have practised; the merits I have acquired in the practice of these virtues will be my safeguard and protection; these are my offensive and defensive weapons, and with them I will crush down the great army of Manh." Whereupon he quietly remained meditating upon the merits of the ten great virtues.

Whilst Phralaong was thus absorbed in meditation, Manh Nat began his attack upon him. He caused a wind to blow with such an extraordinary violence that it brought down the tops of mountains, though they were one or two youdzanas thick. The trees of the forests were shattered to atoms. But the virtue of Phralaong's merits preserved him from the destructive storm. His tsiwaran itself was not agitated. Perceiving that his first effort was useless, Manh caused a heavy rain to fall with such violence that it tore the earth, and opened it to its very bottom. But not even a single drop touched Phralaong's person. To this succeeded a shower of rocks, accompanied with smoke and fire; but they were changed into immense ma.s.ses of flowers, which dropped at Buddha's feet. There came afterwards another shower of swords, knives, and all kinds of cutting weapons, emitting smoke and fire. They all fell powerless at the feet of Phralaong. A storm of burning ashes and sand soon darkened the atmosphere, but they fell in front of him like fragrant dust. Clouds of mud succeeded, which fell like perfumes all round and over Phralaong.

Manh caused a thick darkness to fill the atmosphere, but to Phralaong it emitted rays of the purest light. The enraged Manh cried to his followers, "Why do you stand looking on? Rush at once upon him and compel him to flee before me." Sitting on his huge elephant, and brandishing his formidable weapons, Manh approached close to Phralaong and said to him, "Theiddat, this throne is not made for you; vacate it forthwith; it is my property." Phralaong calmly answered, "You have not as yet practised the ten great virtues, nor gone through the five acts of self-denial; you have never devoted your life to help others to acquire merits; in a word, you have not yet done all the needful to enable you to attain the supreme dignity of Phra. This throne, therefore, cannot be yours." Unable to control any longer his pa.s.sion, Manh threw his formidable weapons at Phralaong; but they were converted into garlands of beautiful flowers, that adapted themselves gracefully round his body. His sword and other weapons, that could cut at once through the hardest rocks, were employed with no better success. The soldiers of Manh, hoping that their united efforts would have a better result, and that they could thrust Phralaong from his throne, made a sudden and simultaneous rush at him, rolling against him, with an irresistible force, huge rocks, as large as mountains; but by the virtue of their opponent's merits, they were converted into fine nosegays, that gently dropped at his feet.

At that time the Nats, from their seats, looked down on the scene of the combat, suspended between hope and fear. Phralaong at that moment said to Manh: "How do you dare to pretend to the possession of this throne?

Could you ever prove, by indisputable evidence, that you have ever made offerings enough to be deserving of this throne?" Manh, turning to his followers, answered: "Here are my witnesses; they will all bear evidence in my favour." At the same moment they all shouted aloud, to testify their approval of Mania's words. "As to you, Prince Theiddat, where are the witnesses that will bear evidence in your favour and prove the justness of your claim to the possession of this throne?" Phralaong replied: "My witnesses are not like yours, men or any living beings.[5]

The earth itself will give testimony to me. For, without alluding even to those offerings I have made during several previous existences, I will but mention the forty-seven great ones I made whilst I lived as Prince Wethandra." Stretching out his right hand, which he had kept hitherto under the folds of his garments, and pointing to the earth, he said with a firm voice: "Earth, is it not true that at the time I was Prince Wethandra I made forty great offerings?" The earth replied with a deep and loud roaring, resounding in the midst of Manh's legions, like the sound of countless voices, threatening to spread death and destruction in their ranks. The famous charger of Manh bent his knees, and paid homage to Phralaong. Manh himself, disheartened and discomfited, fled to the country of Wathawatti. His followers were so overpowered by fear that they flung away all that could impede their retreat, and ran away in every direction. Such was the confusion and disorder that prevailed that two warriors could not be seen following the same course in their flight.

Looking from their seats on the defeat of Manh and the glorious victory of Phralaong, the Nats[6] rent the air with shouts of exultation. The Brahmas, Nagas, and Galongs joined the Nats in celebrating his triumph over his enemies. They all hastened from more than ten thousand worlds to pay their respects and offer their felicitations, presenting him with flowers and perfumes, saying: "Victory and glory to Phralaong! Shame and defeat to the infamous Manh!"

It was a little while before sunset when Phralaong had achieved his splendid victory over his proud foe. At that time he was wrapped up, as it were, in the profoundest meditation. The extremities of the branches of the Bodi tree[7] fell gently over him, and, by their undulations, seemed caressing, as it were, his tsiwaran; they resembled so many beautiful nosegays of red flowers that were offered to him. At the first watch of the night Phralaong applied all the energies of his powerful mind to ascertain the laws of the causes and effects, in order to account for all that is in existence. He argued in the following manner: "Pain and all sorts of miseries do exist in this world. Why do they exist? Because there is birth. Why is there birth? Because there is conception. Now conception does take place, because there is existence, or that moral state produced by the action or influence of merits and demerits. Existence is brought in by _Upadan_, or the combining of affections calculated to cause the coming into existence. The latter has for its cause the desire. The desire is produced by sensation. The latter is caused by the contact. The contact takes place because there are the six senses. The six senses do exist, because there is name and form, that is to say, the exterior sign of the ideal being and the type of the real being. Name and form owe their existence to erroneous knowledge; the latter in its turn is produced by the imagination, which has for its cause ignorance."[8]

Having followed in his mind the succession of the twelve causes and effect, and reached the last link of that chain, Phralaong said to himself: "Ignorance, or no science, is the first cause which gives rise to all the phenomena I have successively reviewed. From it springs the world and all the beings it contains. It is the cause of that universal illusion in which man and all beings are miserably lulled. By what means can this ignorance be done away with? Doubtless by knowledge and true science. By means of the light that science spreads I clearly see the unreality of all that exists, and I am freed from that illusion which makes other beings to believe that such thing exists, when, in reality, it does not exist. The imagination, or the faculty to imagine the existence of things which do not exist, is done away with. The same fate is reserved to the false knowledge resulting therefrom to the name and form, to the six senses, to contact, to sensation, to desire, to conception, to existence, to birth, and to pain or miseries."

Then Phralaong says to himself: "The knowledge of the four great truths is the true light that can dispel ignorance and procure the real science, whereby the coming out from the whirlpool of existences, or from the state of illusion, can be perfectly effected. These four truths are: 1, The miseries of existence; 2, The cause productive of misery, which is the desire, ever-renewed, of satisfying oneself without being able ever to secure that end; 3, The destruction of that desire, or the estranging oneself from it, is the important affair deserving the most serious attention; 4, The means of obtaining the individual annihilation of that desire is supplied solely by the four Meggas, or highways, leading to perfection. But these Meggas can be followed only by those who have a right intention, a right will, and who, throughout life, exert themselves to regulate their action, conduct, language, thought, and meditations." It was then that the heart of Phralaong acquired an unshakable firmness, a perfect purity or exemption from all pa.s.sions, an unutterable meekness, and a strong feeling of tender compa.s.sion towards all beings.

When these fundamental truths had been known, felt, and relished,[9]

Phralaong's mind, casting a glance over the past, was able to discover at once all that had taken place during the countless states of his former existences. He recollected the name he had borne, those of his parents, the places he had seen and visited, the caste he had belonged to, and all the chief events that had marked the course of his progress through the continual migrations. He likewise saw reflected, as in a mirror, the former conditions of existence of all other beings. The immense development and expansion of his mind, which enabled him to fathom the depth of the past, happened during the first watch of the night.

He applied now all the expanded powers of his incomparable mind to take a correct survey of all the beings now in existence. He glanced over all those that were in h.e.l.l, and the other three states of punishment, those living on earth, and those dwelling in the twenty-six superior seats. He at once understood distinctly their state, condition, merits, demerits, and all that appertained to their physical and moral const.i.tutive parts.

This labour occupied his mind up to midnight.