Dialogues of the Buddha — T.W. Rhys Davids

translated by T.W. Rhys Davids

The Digha Nikaya, or Collection of Long Discourses, preserves the most expansive dialogues attributed to the Buddha. This 1899 translation by T.W. Rhys Davids presents the first thirteen suttas of the collection, each prefaced with a scholarly introduction. The Brahma-gala Sutta opens with a comprehensive taxonomy of sixty-two philosophical views that the Buddha rejects. The Samannaphala Sutta offers a vivid portrait of six rival teachers and the Buddha's own account of the stages of spiritual progress. The remaining dialogues address caste, sacrifice, the nature of consciousness, and the relationship between Brahmanical and Buddhist thought. Rhys Davids' introductions remain among the finest short essays on early Buddhist philosophy in English.

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PREFACE.

NOTE ON THE PROBABLE AGE OF THE DIALOGUES.

The Dialogues of the Buddha, constituting, in the Pâli ext, the Dîgha and Magghima Nikâyas, contain a full exposition of what the early Buddhists considered the teaching of the Buddha to have been. Incidentally they contain a large number of references to the social, political, and religious condition of India at the time when they were put together. We do not know for certain what that time exactly was. But every day is adding to the number of facts on which an approximate estimate of the date may be based. And the ascertained facts are already sufficient to give us a fair working hypothesis.
In the first place the numerous details and comparative tables given in the Introduction to my translation of the Milinda show without a doubt that practically the whole of the Pâli Pitakas were known, and regarded as final authority, at the time and place when that work was composed. The geographical details given on pp. xliii, xliv tend to show that the work was composed in the extreme North-West of India. There are two Chinese works, translations of Indian books taken to China from the North of India, which contain, in different recensions, the introduction {} and the opening chapters of the Milinda{1}, For the reasons adduced (loco citato) it is evident that the work must have been composed at or about the time of the Christian era. Whether (as M. Sylvain Levy thinks) it is an enlarged work built up on the foundation of the Indian original of the Chinese books; or whether (as I am inclined to think) that original is derived from our Milinda, there is still one conclusion that must be drawn—the Nikâyas, nearly if not quite as we now ha ve them in the Pâli, were known at a very early date in the North of India.
Then again, the Kathâ Vatthu (according to the views prevalent, at the end of the fourth century A.D., at Kâñkipura in South India, and at Anurâdhapura in Ceylon; and recorded, therefore, in their commentaries, by Dhammapâla and Buddhaghosa) was composed, in the form in which we now have it, by Tissa, the son of Moggalî, in the middle of the third century B.C., at the court of Asoka, at Pâtaliputta, the modern Patna, in the North of India, It is a recognised rule of evidence in the courts of law that, if an entry be found in the books kept by a man in the ordinary course of his trade, which entry speaks against himself, then that entry is especially worthy of credence. Now at the time when they made this entry about Tissa's authorship of the Kathâ Vatthu the commentators believed, and it was an accepted tenet of those among whom they mixed—just as it was, mutatis mutandis, among the theologians in Europe, at the corresponding date in the history of their faith—that the whole of the canon was the word of the Buddha. They also held that it had been actually recited, at the Council of Râgagaha, immediately after his decease. It is, I venture to submit, absolutely impossible, under these circumstances, that the commentators can have invented this information {} about Tissa and the Kathâ Vatthu. They found it in the records on which their works are based. They dared not alter it. The best they could do was to try to explain it away. And this they did by a story, evidently legendary, attributing the first scheming out of the book to the Buddha. But they felt compelled to hand on, as they found it, the record of Tissa's authorship. And this deserves, on the ground that it is evidence against themselves, to have great weight attached to it.

The text of the Kathâ Vatthu now lies before us in a scholarly edition, prepared for the Pâli Text Society by Mr. Arnold C. Taylor. It purports to be a refutation by Tissa of 250 erroneous opinions held by Buddhists belonging to schools of thought different from his own. We have, from other sources, a considerable number of data as regards the different schools of thought among Buddhists—often erroneously called 'the Eighteen Sects{1}.' We are beginning to know something about the historical development of Buddhism, and to be familiar with what sort of questions are likely to have arisen. We are beginning to know somethmg of the growth of the language, of the different Pâli styles. In all these respects the Kathâ Vatthu fits in with what we should expect as possible, and probable, in the time of Asoka, and in the North of India.
Now the discussions as carried on in the Kathâ Vatthu are for the most part, and on both sides, an appeal to authority. And to what authority? Without any exception as yet discovered, to the Pitakas, and as we now have them, in Pâli. Thus on the appeal is to the passage translated below, on , § 6; and it is quite evident that the quotation is from our Suttanta, and not from any other passage where {} the same words might occur, as the very name of the Suttanta, the Kevaddha (with a difference of reading found also in our MSS.), is given. The following are other instances of quotations:—

Kathâ Vatthu.The Nikâyas.

= A. II, 50.

345 = S. I, 33.

345 = A. II, 54.

347 = Kh. P. VII, 6,7.

348 = A. III, 43.

351 = Kh. P. VIII, 9.

369 = M. I, 85, 92, &c.

404 = M. I, 4.

413 = S. IV, 362.

426 = D. I, 70.

440 = S. I, 33.

457 = D. (M. P. S. 23).

457 = A. II, 172.

459 = M. I, 94:

481 = D. I, 83, 84.

483 = D. I, 84.

484 = A. II, 126.

494 = S. I, 206 = J. IV, 496.

505 = M. I, 490.

506 = M. I, 485 = S. IV, 393 (nearly).

513 = A. I, 197.

522 = M. I, 389.

525 = Dhp. 164.

528 = M. I, 447.

549 = S. N. 227 = Kh. P. VI, 6.

554 = S. I, 233.

554 = Vim. V. XXXIV, 25-27.

565 = D. I, 156.

588, 9 = P. P. pp. 71, 72.

591 = M. I, 169.

597, 8 = A. I, 141, 2.

602 = Dh. C. P. Sutta, §§ 9-23.

There are many more quotations from the older Pitaka books in the Kathâ Vatthu, about three or four times as many as are contained in this list. But this is enough to show that, at the time when the Kathâ Vatthu was composed, all the Five Nikâyas were extant; and were considered to be final authorities to any question that was being discussed. They must themselves, therefore, be considerably older.

Thirdly, Hofrath Bühler and Dr. Hultsch have called attention{1} to the fact that in inscriptions of the third century B.C. we find, as descriptions of donors to the dâgabas, the expressions dhammakathika, petakî, suttantika, suttantakinî, and pañka-nekâyika.

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The Dhamma, the Pitakas, the Suttantas, and the five Nikâyas must have existed for some time before the brethren and sisters could be described as preachers of the Dhamma, as reciters of the Pitaka, and as guardians of the Suttantas or of the Nikâyas (which were not yet written, and were only kept alive in the memory of living men and women).

Simple as they seem, the exact force of these technical designations is not, as yet, determined. Dr. K. Neumann thinks that Petakî does not mean 'knowing the Pitakas,' but 'knowing the Pitaka,' that is, the Nikâyas—a single Pitaka, in the sense of the Dhamma, having been known before the expression 'the Pitakas' came into use{1}. As he points out, the title of the old work Petakopadesa, which is an exposition, not of the three Pitakas, but only of the Nikâyas, supports his view. So again the Dialogues are the only parts or passages of the canonical books called, in our MSS., suttantas. Was then a suttantika one who knew precisely the Dialogues by heart? This was no doubt the earliest use of the term. But it should be recollected that the Kathâ Vatthu, of about the same date, uses the word suttanta also for passages from other parts of the scriptures.

However this may be, the terms are conclusive proof of the existence, some considerable time before the date of the inscriptions, of a Buddhist literature called either a Pitaka or the Pitakas, containing Suttantas, and divided into Five Nikâyas.

Fourthly, on Asoka's Bhabra Edict he recommends to the communities of the brethren and sisters of the Order, and to the lay disciples of either sex, frequently to hear and to meditate upon seven selected passages. These are as follows:—
Vinaya-samukkamsa.
Ariya-vâsâni from the Dîgha (Samgîti Suttanta), Anâgata-bhayâni from the Anguttara III, 105-108.
Muni-gâthâ from the Sutta Nipâta 206-220.

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Moneyya Sutta from the Iti Vuttaka 67 = A. I, 272.
Upatissa-pasina.
Râhulovâda = Râhulovâda Suttanta (M. I, 414-42O).

Of these passages Nos. 1 and 6 have not yet been satisfactorily identified. The others may be regarded as certain, for the reasons I have set out elsewhere{1}. No. 2 also occurs in the tenth book of the Anguttara. It is clear that in Asoka's time there was acknowledged to be an authoritative literature, probably a collection of books, containing what was then believed to be the words of the Buddha: and that it comprised passages already known by the titles given in his Edict. Five out of the seven having been found in the published portions of what we now call the Pitakas. and in the portion of them called the Five Nikâyas, raises the presumption that when the now unpublished portions are printed the other two will also, probably, be identified. We have no evidence that any other Buddhist literature was in existence at that date.

What is perhaps still more important is the point to which M. Senart{2} has called attention, and supported by numerous details:—the very clear analogy between the general tone and the principal points of the moral teaching, on the one hand of the Asoka edicts as a whole, and on the other of the Dhammapada, an anthology of edifying verses taken, in great part, from the Five Nikâyas. The particular verses selected by M. Senart, as being especially characteristic of Asoka's ideas, include extracts from each of the Five.
Fifthly, the four great Nikâyas contain a number of stock passages, which are constantly recurring, and in which some ethical state is set out or described. Many of these are also found in the prose passages {} of the various books collected together in the Fifth, the Khuddaka Nikâya. A number of them are found in each of the thirteen Suttantas translated in this volume. There is great probability that such passages already existed, as ethical sayings or teachings, not only before the Nikâyas were put together, but even before the Suttantas were put together.

There are also entire episodes, containing not only ethical teaching, but names of persons and places and accounts of events, which are found, in identical terms, at two or more places. These should be distinguished from the last. But they are also probably older than our existing texts. Most of the parallel passages, found in both Pâli and Sanskrit Buddhist texts, come under one or other of these two divisions.

Sixthly, the Samyutta Nikâya (III, 13) quotes one Suttanta in the Dialogues by name; and both the Samyutta and the Anguttara Nikâyas quote, by name and chapter, certain poems now found only in a particular chapter of the Sutta Nipâta. This Suttanta, and these poems, must therefore be older, and older in their present arrangement, than the final settlement of the text of these two Nikâyas.

Seventhly, several of the Dialogues purport to relate conversations that took place between people, cotemporaries with the Buddha, but after the Buddha's death. One Sutta in the Anguttara is based on the death of the wife of Munda, king of Magadha, who began to reign about forty years after the death of the Buddha. There is no reason at all to suspect an interpolation. It follows that, not only the Sutta itself, but the date of the compilation of the Anguttara, must be subsequent to that event.
There is a story in Peta Vatthu IV, 3, 1 about a King Pingalaka. Dhammapâla, in his commentary, informs us that this king, of whom nothing is otherwise known, lived two hundred years after the Buddha. It follows that this poem, and also the Peta Vatthu in which it is found, and also the Vimâna Vatthu, with which the Peta Vatthu really forms one whole work, {} are later than the date of Pingalaka. And there is no reason to believe that the commentator's date, although it is evidently only a round number, is very far wrong. These books are evidently, from their contents, the very latest compositions in all the Five Nikâyas.

There is also included among the Thera Gâthâ, another book in the Fifth Nikâya, verses said, by Dhammapâla the commentator{1}, to have been composed by a thera of the time of King Bindusâra, the father of Asoka, and to have been added to the collection at the time of Asoka's Council.

Eighthly, several Sanskrit Buddhist texts have now been made accessible to scholars. We know the real titles, given in the MSS. themselves, of nearly 200 more{2}. And the catalogues in which the names occur give us a considerable amount of detailed information as to their contents. No one of them is a translation, or even a recension, of any one of the twenty-seven canonical books. They are independent works; and seem to bear to the canonical books a relation similar, in many respects, to that borne by the works of the Christian Fathers to the Bible. But though they do not reproduce any complete texts, they contain numerous verses, some whole poems, numerous sentences in prose, and some complete episodes, found in the Pâli books. And about half a dozen instances have been already found in which such passages are stated, or inferred, to be from older texts, and are quoted as authorities. Most fortunately we may hope, owing to the enlightened liberality of the Academy of St. Petersburg, and the zeal and scholarship of Professor d'Oldenbourg and his co-workers, to have a considerable number of Buddhist Sanskrit Texts in the near future. And this is just what, in the present state of our knowledge of the history of Buddhist writings, is so great a desideratum.

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It is possible to construct, in accordance with these facts, a working hypothesis as to the history of the literature. It is also possible to object that the evidence drawn from the Milinda may be disregarded on the ground that there is nothing to show that that work, excepting only the elaborate and stately introduction and a few of the opening chapters, is not an impudent forgery, and a late one, concocted by some Buddhist in Ceylon. So the evidence drawn from the Kathâ Vatthu may be disregarded on the ground that there is nothing to show that that work is not an impudent forgery, and a late one, concocted by some Buddhist in Ceylon. The evidence drawn from the inscriptions may be put aside on the ground that they do not explicitly state that the Suttantas and Nikâyas to which they refer, and the passages they mention, are the same as those we now have. And the fact that the commentators point out, as peculiar, that certain passages are nearly as late, and one whole book quite as late, as Asoka, is no proof that the rest are older. It may even be maintained that the Pâli Pitakas are not therefore Indian books at all: that they are all Ceylon forgeries, and should be rightly called 'the Southern Recension' or 'the Simhalese Canon.'
Each of these propositions, taken by itself, has the appearance of careful scruple. And a healthy and reasonable scepticism is a valuable aid to historical criticism. But can that be said of a scepticism that involves belief in things far more incredible than those it rejects? In one breath we are reminded of the scholastic dulness, the sectarian narrowness, the literary incapacity, even the senile imbecility of the Ceylon Buddhists. In the next we are asked to accept propositions implying that they were capable of forging extensive documents so well, with such historical accuracy, with so delicate a discrimination between ideas current among themselves and those held centuries before, with so great a literary skill in expressing the ancient views, that not only did {} they deceive their contemporaries and opponents, but European scholars have not been able to point out a single discrepancy in their work{1}. It is not unreasonable to hesitate in adopting a scepticism which involves belief in so unique, and therefore so incredible, a performance.

The hesitation will seem the more reasonable if we consider that to accept this literature for what it purports to be—that is, as North Indian{2}, and for the most part pre-Asokan—not only involves no such absurdity, but is really just what one would a priori expect, just what the history of similar literatures elsewhere would lead one to suppose likely.

The Buddha, like other Indian teachers of his time, taught by conversation. A highly educated man (according to the education current at the time), speaking constantly to men of similar education, he followed the literary habit of his time by embodying his doctrines in set phrases, sûtras, on which he enlarged on different occasions in different ways. In the absence of books—for though writing was widely known, the lack of writing materials made any lengthy written books impossible{3}—such sûtras were the recognised form of preserving and communicating opinion. These particular ones were not in Sanskrit, but in the ordinary conversational idiom of the day, that is to say, in a sort of Pâli.

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When the Buddha died these sayings were collected together by his disciples into the Four Great Nikâyas. They cannot have reached their final form till about fifty years afterwards. Other sayings and verses, most of them ascribed not to the Buddha himself, but to the disciples, were put into a supplementary Nikâya. We know of slight additions made to this Nikâya as late as the time of Asoka. And the developed doctrine found in certain short books in it—notably in the Buddhavamsa and Kariyâ Pitaka. and in the Peta- and Vimâna-Vatthus—show that these are later than the four old Nikâyas.
For a generation or two the books as originally put together were handed down by memory. And they were doubtless accompanied from the first, as they were being taught, by a running commentary. About 100 years after the Buddha's death there was a schism in the community. Each of the two schools kept an arrangement of the canon—still in Pâli (or possibly spme allied dialect). Sanskrit was not used for any Buddhist works till long afterwards, and never used at all, so far as we know, for the canonical books. Each of these two schools broke up, in the following centuries, into others; and several of them had their different arrangements of the canonical books, differing also no doubt in minor details. Even as late as the first century after the Christian Era, at the Council of Kanishka, these books, among many others then extant, remained the only authorities{1}. But they all, except only our present Pâli Nikâyas, have been lost in India. Of the stock passages of ethical statement, and of early episodes, used in the composition of them, and of the Suttas now extant, numerous fragments have been preserved in the Hînayâna Sanskrit texts. And some of the Suttas, and of the separate books, as used in other schools, are represented in Chinese translations of the fourth and {} fifth centuries A.D. A careful and detailed comparison of these remains with the Pâli Nikâyas, after the method adopted in Windisch's 'Mâra und Buddha,' cannot fail to throw much light on the history, and on the method of composition, of the canonical books, which in style and method, in language and contents and tone, bear all the marks of so considerable an antiquity.

Hofrath Dr. Bühler, in the last work he published, expressed the opinion that these books, as we have them in the Pâli, are good evidence, certainly for the fifth, probably for the sixth, century B.C. Subject to what has been said above, that will probably become, more and more, the accepted opinion. And it is this which gives to all they tell us, either directly or by implication, of the social, political, and religious life of India, so great a value{1}.
It is necessary, in spite of the limitations of our space, to add a few words on the method followed in this version. We talk of Pâli books. They are not books in the modern sense. They are memorial sentences intended to be learnt by heart; and the whole style, and method of arrangement is entirely subordinated to this primary necessity. The leading ideas in any one of our Suttantas, for instance, are expressed in short phrases not intended to convey to a European reader the argument underlying them. These are often repeated with slight variations. But neither the repetitions nor the variations—introduced, and necessarily introduced, as aids to memory—help the modern reader very much. That of course was not their object. For the object they were intended {} to serve they are singularly well chosen, and aptly introduced.

Other expedients were adopted with a similar aim. Ideas were formulated, not in logically co-ordinated sentences, but in numbered groups; and lists were drawn up such as those found in the tract called the Sîlas, and in the passage on the rejected forms of asceticism, both translated below. These groups and lists, again, must have been accompanied from the first by a running verbal commentary, given, in his own words, by the teacher to his pupils. Without such a comment they are often quite unintelligible, and always difficult.

The inclusion of such memoria technica makes the Four Nikâyas strikingly different from modern treatises on ethics or psychology. As they stand they were never intended to be read. And a version in English, repeating all the repetitions, rendering each item in the lists and groups as they stand, by a single English word, without commentary, would quite fail to convey the meaning, often intrinsically interesting, always historically valuable, of these curious old documents.
It is no doubt partly the result of the burden of such memoria technica, but partly also owing to the methods of exposition then current in North India, that the leading theses of each Suttanta are not worked out in the way in which we should expect to find similar theses worked out now in Europe. A proposition or two or three, are put forward, re-stated with slight additions or variations, and placed as it were in contrast with the contrary proposition (often at first put forward by the interlocutor). There the matter is usually left. There is no elaborate logical argument. The choice is offered to the hearer; and, of course, he usually accepts the proposition as maintained by the Buddha. The statement of this is often so curt, enigmatic, and even—owing not seldom simply to our ignorance, as yet, of the exact force of the technical terms used—so {} ambiguous, that a knowletige of the state of opinion on the particular point, in North India, at the time, or a comparison of other Nikâya passages on the subject, is necessary to remove the uncertainty.

It would seem therefore most desirable that a scholar attempting to render these Suttantas into a European language—evolved in the process of expressing a very different, and often contradictory, set of conceptions—should give the reasons of the faith that is in him. He should state why he holds such and such an expression to be the least inappropriate rendering: and quote parallel passages from other Nikâya texts in support of his reasons. He should explain the real significance of the thesis put forward by a statement of what, in his opinion, was the point of view from which it was put forward, the stage of opinion into which it fits, the current views it supports or controverts. In regard to technical terms, for which there can be no exact equivalent, he should give the Pâli. And in regard to the mnemonic lists and groups, each word in which is usually a crux, he should give cross-references, and wherever he ventures to differ from tht Buddhist explanations, as handed down in the schools, should state the fact, and give his reasons. It is only by such discussions that we can hope to make progress in the interpretation of the history of Buddhist and Indian thought. Bare versions are of no use to scholars, and even to the general reader they can only convey loose, inadequate, and inaccurate ideas.
These considerations will, I trust, meet with the approval of my fellow workers. Each scholar would of course, in considering the limitations of his space, make a different choice as to the points he regarded most pressing to dwell upon in his commentary, as to the points he would leave to explain themselves. It may, I am afraid, be considered that my choice in these respects has not been happy, and especially that too many words or phrases have been left without comment, where reasons were necessary. But I have {} endeavoured, in the notes and introductions, to emphasise those points on which further elucidation is desirable; and to raise some of the most important of those historical questions which will have to be settled before these Suttantas can finally be considered as having been rightly understood.
T. W. RHYS DAVIDS. ,' April, 1899.

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INTRODUCTION

BRAHMA-GÂLA SUTTA.

THE phase of beliefs which this Suttanta is intended to meet, into which its argument fits, has been set out in some detail in the opening chapter of my 'American Lectures.' As there pointed out{1}, the discussion which thus opens this series of dialogues forms also the first question in the Kathâ Vatthu, and the first question in the Milinda, We cannot be far wrong if, in our endeavours to understand the real meaning of the original Buddhism, we attach as much weight to this question as did the author or authors of these ancient and authoritative Buddhist books.

The Suttanta sets out in sixty-two divisions{2} various speculations or theories in which the theorisers, going out always from various forms of the ancient view of a 'soul'—a sort of subtle manikin inside the body but separate from it, and continuing, after it leaves the body, as a separate entity—attempt to reconstruct the past, or to arrange the future. All such speculation is condemned. And necessarily so, since the Buddhist philosophy is put together without this ancient idea of 'soul.'
The Buddhist scheme endeavours, in other words, to include all the truth which previous thinkers had grafted on to the old savage theories of a semi-material, subtle, permanent entity inside the body, while rejecting those theories themselves; it endeavours to retain all the philosophic truth which previous thinkers had grafted on to the theosophies—the corollaries of the soul theories—while rejecting those theosophies themselves. The reasons given for this position are threefold: firstly, that such speculators about ultimate things, {} either in the past or the future, have insufficient evidence. see only one side of the shield{1}; secondly, that such speculations do not lead to emancipation, to Arahatship{2}; and thirdly, that such theories are really derived from the hopes, the feelings, and the sensations arising from evanescent phenomena{3}—they belong, in other words, to the realm of hastily formed, empirical opinion (ditthi), not to that of the higher wisdom (paññâ). So that Buddhism, in the first place, holds a position somewhat similar to the modern Agnostic position. Secondly, while acknowledging the importance of feeling and of intellect, it lays special stress upon the regulation, the cultivation, of the will{4}. And thirdly, it distinguishes between a lower and a higher wisdom{5}.

Several scholars, and especially—with more knowledge and detail—Dr. Karl Neumann, have maintained that the position of Buddhism in the history of Indian philosophy is analogous to that of Schopenhauer in European philosophy. On the other hand, it is maintained by Professor Deussen that Schopenhauer's position is analogous to that of the Upanishads. The reconciliation will probably be found to be that what Buddhism took over, with more or less of modification, from the Upanishads, is about the same as that part of the Upanishad doctrine which is found, in European phraseology, in Schopenhauer; and what Buddhism rejected altogether is not to be found in Schopenhauer. He himself, who however knew both systems only from second-hand and inaccurate authorities, says, 'If I am to take the results of my own philosophy as the standard of truth, I should be obliged to concede to Buddhism the pre-eminence over other (systems of philosophy).'
However this question may be decided—and its discussion, at the necessary length, by a competent student of philosophy, is a very pressing want—it is certain from the details given in our Suttanta that there were then current in Northern India many other philosophic and theosophic speculations besides those the priests found it expedient to adopt, and have preserved for us in the Upanishads. And who can doubt but that some, if not all of them, may also have had their influence on the new doctrine? There was always much philosophising in India outside the narrow and inexact limits {} of the so-called six Darsanas; and we have to thank Buddhist scholars for preserving, in their Pâli and Sanskrit works, the evidences of such philosophy as the priests wished to exclude from notice{1}.

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DIALOGUES OF THE BUDDHA.

DÎGHA NIKÂYA.

[COLLECTION OF LONG DIALOGUES.]

I. BRAHMA-GÂLA SUTTA.

[THE PERFECT NET.]

I. 1. Thus have I heard. The Blessed One was once going along the high road between Râgagaha and Nâlandâ{2} with a great company of the brethren, with about five hundred brethren. And Suppiya the mendicant{3} too was going along the high road between Râgagaha and Nâlandâ with his disciple the youth Brahmadatta. Now just then Suppiya the mendicant was speaking in many ways in dispraise of the Buddha, in dispraise of the Doctrine, in dispraise of the Order. But young Brahmadatta, his pupil, gave utterance, in many ways, to praise of the Buddha, to praise of the Doctrine, to praise of the Order. Thus they two, teacher and pupil, holding opinions in direct contradiction one to the other, were following, step by {} step, after the Blessed One and the company of the brethren.
Now the Blessed One put up at the royal rest-house in the Ambalatthikâ pleasance{l} to pass the night, and with him the company of the brethren. And so also did Suppiya the mendicant, and with him his young disciple Brahmadatta. And there, at the rest-house, these two carried on the same discussion as before.

And in the early dawn a number of the brethren assembled, as they rose up, in the pavilion; and this was the trend of the talk that sprang up among them, as they were seated there. 'How wonderful a thing is it, brethren, and how strange that the Blessed One, he who knows and sees, the Arahat, the Buddha Supreme, should so clearly have perceived how various are the inclinations of men! For see how while Suppiya the mendicant speaks in many ways in dispraise of the Buddha, the Doctrine, and the Order, his own disciple young Brahmadatta, speaks, in as many ways, in praise of them. So do these two, teacher and pupil, follow step by step after the Blessed One and the company of the brethren, giving utterance to views in direct contradiction one to the other.'

Now the Blessed One, on realising what was the drift of their talk, went to the pavilion, and took his seat on the mat spread out for him. And when he had sat down he said: 'What is the talk on which you are engaged sitting here, and what is the subject of the conversation between you?' And they told him all. And he said:

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'Brethren, if outsiders should speak against me, or against the Doctrine, or against the Order, you should not on that account either bear malice, or suffer heart-burning, or feel illwill. If you, on that account, should be angry and hurt, that would stand in the way of your own self-conquest. If, when others speak against us, you feel angry at that, and displeased, would you then be able to judge how far that speech of theirs is well said or ill?'

'That would not be so, Sir.'

'But when outsiders speak in dispraise of me, or of the Doctrine, or of the Order, you should unravel what is false and point it out as wrong, saying: "For this or that reason this is not the fact, that is not so, such a thing is not found among us, is not in us."

'But also, brethren, if outsiders should speak in praise of me, in praise of the Doctrine, in praise of the Order, you should not, on that account, be filled with pleasure or gladness, or be lifted up in heart. Were you to be so that also would stand in the way of your self-conquest. When outsiders speak in praise of me, or of the Doctrine, or of the Order, you should acknowledge what is right to be the fact, saying: "For this or that reason this is the fact, that is so, such a thing is found among us, is in us."

'It is in respect only of trifling things, of matters of little value, of mere morality, that an unconverted man, when praising the Tathâgata, would speak. And what are such trifling, minor details of mere morality that he would praise?'

[THE MORALITIES. PART I.]

'"Putting away the killing of living things, Gotama the recluse holds aloof from the destruction {} of life. He has laid the cudgel and the sword aside, and ashamed of roughness, and full of mercy, he dwells compassionate and kind to all creatures that have life." It is thus that the unconverted man, when speaking in praise of the Tathâgata, might speak{1}.

'Or he might say: "Putting away the taking of what has not been given, Gotama the recluse lived aloof from grasping what is not his own. He takes only what is given, and expecting that gifts will come{2}, he passes his life in honesty and purity of heart."

'Or he might say: "Putting away unchastity, Gotama the recluse is chaste. He holds himself aloof, far off, from the vulgar practice, from the sexual act{3}."

'Or he might say: "Putting away lying words, Gotama the recluse holds himself aloof from falsehood. He speaks truth, from the truth he never swerves; faithful and trustworthy, he breaks not his word to the world."
'Or he might say: "Putting away slander, Gotama the recluse holds himself aloof from calumny. What he hears here he repeats not elsewhere to raise a quarrel {} against the people here; what he hears elsewhere he repeats not here to raise a quarrel against the people there. Thus does he live as a binder together of those who are divided, an encourager of those who are friends, a peacemaker, a lover of peace, impassioned for peace, a speaker of words that make for peace."

'Or he might say: "Putting away rudeness of speech, Gotama the recluse holds himself aloof from harsh language. Whatsoever word is blameless, pleasant to the ear, lovely, reaching to the heart, urbane{1}, pleasing to the people, beloved of the people—such are words he speaks."

'Or he might say: "Putting away frivolous talk{2}, Gotama the recluse holds himself aloof from vain conversation. In season he speaks, in accordance with the facts, words full of meaning, on religion, on the discipline of the Order. He speaks, and at the right time, words worthy to be laid up in one's heart, fitly illustrated, clearly divided, to the point."

'Or he might say: "Gotama the recluse holds himself aloof from causing injury to seeds or plants{3}.

He takes but one meal a day, not eating at night, refraining from food after hours (after midday).

He refrains from being a spectator at shows at fairs, with nautch dances, singing, and music.

He abstains from wearing, adorning, or ornamenting himself with garlands, scents, and unguents.

He abstains from the use of large and lofty beds.

He abstains from accepting silver or gold.

He abstains from accepting uncooked grain.

He abstains from accepting raw meat.

He abstains from accepting women or girls.

He abstains from accepting bondmen or bondwomen.

{}

He abstains from accepting sheep or goats.

He abstains from accepting fowls or swine.

He abstains from accepting elephants, cattle, horses, and mares.

He abstains from accepting cultivated fields or waste.

He abstains from the acting as a go-between or messenger.

He abstains from buying and selling.

He abstains from cheating with scales or bronzes{1} or measures.

He abstains from the crooked ways of bribery, cheating, and fraud.

He abstains from maiming, murder, putting in bonds, highway robbery, dacoity, and violence."

'Such are the things, brethren, which an unconverted man, when speaking in praise of the Tathâgata, might say.'

Here ends the Kûla Sîla [the Short Paragraphs on Conduct].
'Or he might say: "Whereas some recluses and Brahmans, while living on food provided by the faithful, continue addicted to the injury of seedlings and growing plants whether propagated from roots or cuttings or joints or buddings or seeds{2}—Gotama the {} recluse holds aloof from such injury to seedlings and growing plants."
'Or he might say: "Whereas some recluses and Brahmans, while living on food provided by the faithful, continue addicted to the use of things stored up; stores, to wit, of foods, drinks, clothing, equipages, bedding, perfumes, and curry-stuffs{1}—Gotama the recluse holds aloof from such use of things stored up."
'Or he might say: "Whereas some recluses and Brahmans, while living on food provided by the faithful, continue addicted to visiting shows{2}; that is to say, (1) Nautch dances (nakkam){3}.

(2) Singing of songs (gîtam).

(3) Instrumental music (vâditam).

(4) Shows at fairs (pekkham){4}.

{}

(5) Ballad recitations (akkhânam){1}.

(6) Hand music (pânissaram){2}.

(7) The chanting of bards (vetâlam){3}.

(8) Tam-tam playing (kumbhathûnam){4}.

{}

(9) Fairy scenes (Sobhanagarakam){1}.

(10) Acrobatic feats by Kandâlas(Kandâla-vamsa-dhopanam){2}.

(11) Combats of elephants, horses, buffaloes, bulls, goats, rams, cocks, and quails.

(12) Bouts at quarter-staff{3}, boxing, wrestling{4}.

(13-16) Sham-fights, roll-calls, manreuvres, reviews{5}.—

Gotama the recluse holds aloof from visiting such shows."
'Or he might say: "Whereas some recluses and Brahmans, while living on food provided by the faithful, continue addicted to games and recreations{6}; that is to say, (1) Games on boards with eight, or with ten, rows of squares{7}.
(2) The same games {} played by imagining such boards in the air{1}.

(3) Keeping going over diagrams drawn on the ground so that one steps only where one ought to go{2}.

(4) Either removing the pieces or men from a heap with one's nail, or putting them into a heap, in each case without shaking it, He who shakes the heap, loses.

(5) Throwing dice{4}.

(6) Hitting a short stick with a long one{5}.

(7) Dipping the hand with the fingers stretched out in lac, or red dye, or flour-water, and striking the wet hand on the ground or on a wall, calling out 'What shall it be?' and showing the form required—elephants, horses, &c.{6}

(8) Games with balls{7}.

(9) Blowing through toy pipes made of leaves{8}.

(10) Ploughing with toy ploughs{9}.

(11) Turning summersaults{10}.

(12) Playing with toy windmills made of palm-leaves{11}.

{}

(13) Playing with toy measures made of palm-leaves.

(14, 15) Playing with toy carts or toy bows{1}.

(16) Guessing at letters traced in the air, or on a playfellow's back{2}.

(17) Guessing the playfellow's thoughts.

(18) Mimicry of deformities.

Gotama the recluse holds aloof from such games and recreations."
'Or he might say: "Whereas some recluses and Brahmans, while living on food provided by the faithful, continue addicted to the use of high and large couches; that is to say{3}, (1) Moveable settees, high, and six feet long (Âsandi){4}.

(2) Divans with animal figures carved on the supports (Pallanko){5}.

{}

(3) Goats' hair coverlets with very long fleece (Gonako){1}.

(4) Patchwork counterpanes of many colours (Kittakâ).

(5) White blankets (Patikâ).

(6) Woollen coverlets embroidered with flowers (Patalikâ).

(7) Quilts stuffed with cotton wool (Tûlikâ).

(8) Coverlets embroidered with figures of lions, tigers, &c. (Vikatikâ).

(9) Rugs with fur on both sides (Uddalomî).

(10) Rugs with fur on one side (Ekantalomi).

(11) Coverlets embroidered with gems (Katthissam).

(12) Silk coverlets (Koseyyam).

(13) Carpets large enough for sixteen dancers (Kuttakam).

(14-16) Elephant, horse, and chariot rugs.

(17) Rugs of antelope skins sewn together (Agina-paveni).

(18) Rugs of skins of the plantain antelope.
(19) Carpets with awnings {} above them (Sauttara-kkhadam).

(20) Sofas with red pillows for the head and feet."
'Or he might say: "Whereas some recluses and Brahmans, while living on food provided by the faithful, continue addicted to the use of means for adorning and beautifying themselves; that is to say,—Rubbing in scented powders on one's body, shampooing it, and bathing it. Patting the limbs with clubs after the manner of wrestlers{1}. The use of mirrors, eye-ointments, garlands, rouge, cosmetics, bracelets, necklaces, walking-sticks, reed cases for drugs, rapiers, sunshades, embroidered slippers, turbans, diadems, whisks of the yak's tail, and long-fringed white robes—

Gotama the recluse holds aloof from such means of adorning and beautifying the person{2}."
'Or he might say: "Whereas some recluses and Brahmans, while living on food provided by the faithful, continue addicted to such low conversation as these:
Tales of kings, of robbers, of ministers of state; tales of war, of terrors, of battles; talk about foods and drinks, clothes, beds, garlands, perfumes; talks about relationships, equipages, villages, town, cities, and countries; tales about women , and about heroes; gossip at street corners{3}, or places whence {} water is fetched; ghost stories{1}; desultory talk{2}; speculations about the creation of the land or sea{3}, or about existence and non-existence{4}—

Gotama the recluse holds aloof from such low conversation."
'Or he might say: "Whereas some recluses and Brahmans, while living on food provided by the faithful, continue addicted to the use of wrangling phrases{5}: such as— "You don't understand this doctrine and discipline, I do." "How should you know about this doctrine and discipline?" "You have fallen into wrong views. It is I who am in the right." "I am speaking to the point, you are not{6}." "You are putting last what ought to come first, and first what ought to come last{7}." "What you've excogitated so long, that's all quite upset."
{} "Your challenge has been taken up{1}." "You are proved to be wrong{2}." "Set to work to clear your views{3}." "Disentangle yourself if you can.{4}"—

Gotama the recluse holds aloof from such wrangling phrases."
'Or he might say: "Whereas some recluses and Brahmans, while living on food provided by the faithful, continue addicted to taking messages, going on errands, and acting as go-betweens; to wit, on kings, ministers of state, Kshatriyas, Brahmans, or young men, saying: 'Go there, come hither, take this with you, bring that from thence'—

Gotama the recluse abstains from such servile duties."
'Or he might say: "Whereas some recluses and Brahmans, while living on food provided by the faithful, are tricksters{5}, droners out (of holy words for pay){6}, {} diviners{1}, and exorcists{2}, ever hungering to add gain to gain{3}—Gotama the recluse holds aloof from such deception and patter."'

Here ends the Magghima Sîla [the Longer Paragraphs on Conduct].
'Or he might say: "Whereas some recluses and Brahmans, while living on food provided by the faithful, earn their living by wrong means of livelihood, by low arts, such as these:—

(1) palmistry-prophesying long life, prosperity, &c. (or the reverse), from marks on a child's hands, feet, &c.{4}

(2) Divining by means of omens and signs{5}.

(3) Auguries drawn from thunderbolts and other celestial portents{6}.

{}

(4) Prognostication by interpreting dreams{1}.

(5) Fortune-telling from marks on the body{2}.

(6) Auguries from the marks on cloth gnawed by mice{3}.

(7) Sacrificing to Agni{4}.

(8) Offering oblations from a spoon{5}.

(9-13) Making offerings to gods of husks, of the red powder between the grain and the husk, of husked grain ready for boiling, of ghee, and of oil{6}.

(14) Sacrificing by spewing mustard seeds, &c., into the fire out of one's mouth{7}.

(15) Drawing blood from one's right knee as a sacrifice to the gods{8}.

{}

(16) Looking at the knuckles, &c., and, after muttering a charm, divining whether a man is well born or lucky or not{1}.

(17) Determining whether the site, for a proposed house or pleasance, is lucky or not{2}.

(18) Advising on customary law{3}.

(19) Laying demons in a cemetery{4}.

(20) Laying ghosts{5}.

(21) Knowledge of the charms to be used when lodging in an earth house{6}.

(22) Snake charming{7}.

{}

(23) The poison craft{1}.

(24) The scorpion craft{2}.

(25) The mouse craft{2}.

(26) The bird craft{3}.

(27) The crow craft{4}.

(28) Foretelling the number of years that a man has yet to live.

(29) Giving charms to ward off arrows{5}.

(30) The animal wheel{6}.

Gotama the recluse holds aloof from such low arts."
'Or he might say: "Whereas some recluses and Brahmans, while living on food provided by the faithful, earn their living by wrong means of livelihood, by low arts, such as these—

Knowledge of the signs of good and bad qualities in the following things and of the marks in them denoting the health or luck of their owners:—to wit, gems{7}, staves, garments, swords, arrows, bows, other weapons, women{8}, men{8}, boys{8}, girls{8}, slaves, slave-girls, elephants, horses, buffaloes, balls, oxen, goats{9}, sheep{9}, fowls{9}, quails{9}, iguanas{10}, earrings{10}, tortoises, and other animals—

Gotama the recluse holds aloof from such low arts."
'Or he might say: "Whereas some recluses {} and Brahmans, while living on food provided by the faithful, earn their living by wrong means of livelihood, by low arts, such as soothsaying, to the effect that—

The chiefs will march out.

The chiefs will march back.

The home chiefs will attack, and the enemies' retreat.

The enemies' chiefs will attack, and ours will retreat.

The home chiefs will gain the victory, and the foreign chiefs suffer defeat.

The foreign chiefs will gain the victory, and ours will suffer defeat{1}—

Thus will there be victory on this side, defeat on that—

(1) There will be an eclipse of the moon.

(2) There will be an eclipse of the sun.

(3) There will be an eclipse of a star (Nakshatra){2}.

(4) There will be aberration of the sun or the moon.

(5) The sun or the moon will return to its usual path.

(6) There will be aberrations of the stars.

(7) The stars will return to their usual course{3}.

{}

(8) There will be a fall of meteors{1}.

(9) There will be a jungle fire{2}.

(10) There will be an earthquake.

(11) The god will thunder.

(12-15) There will be rising and setting, clearness and dimness, of the sun or the moon or the stars{3}, or foretelling of each of these fifteen phenomena that they will betoken such and such a result" 'Or he might say: 'Whereas some recluses and Brahmans, while living on food provided by the faithful, earn their living by wrong means of livelihood, by low arts, such as these:—

Foretelling an abundant rainfall.

Foretelling a deficient rainfall.
Foretelling a good harvest Foretelling scarcity of food.

Foretelling tranquillity.

Foretelling disturbances.

Foretelling a pestilence.

Fortelling a healthy season.

Counting on the fingers{4}.

{}

Counting without using the fingers{1}.

Summing up large totals{2}.

Composing ballads, poetizing{3}.

Casuistry, sophistry{4}—

Gotama the recluse holds aloof from such low arts."
Or he might say: "Whereas some recluses and Brahmans, while living on food provided by the faithful, earn their living by wrong means of livelihood, by low arts, such as—

{}

(1) Arranging a lucky day for marriages in which the bride or bridegroom is brought home{1}.

(2) Arranging a lucky day for marriages in which the bride or bridegroom is sent forth{2}.

(3) Fixing a lucky time for the conclusion of treaties of peace [or using charms to procure harmony]{3}.

(4) Fixing a lucky time for the outbreak of hostilities [or using charms to make discord]{3}.

(5) Fixing a lucky time for the calling in of debts [Or charms for success in throwing dice]{3}.

(6) Fixing a lucky time for the expenditure of money [or charms to bring ill luck to an opponent throwing dice]{3}.

(7) Using charms to make people lucky{4}.

(8) Using charms to make people unlucky.

(9) Using charms to procure abortion.

(10) Incantations to bring on dumbness.

(11) Incantations to keep a man's jaws fixed.

(12) Incantations to make a man throw up his hands.

(13) Incantations to bring on deafness{5}.

{}

(14) Obtaining oracular answers by means of the magic mirror{1}.

(15) Obtaining oracular answers through a girl possessed{2}.

(16) Obtaining oracular answers from a god{3}.

(17} The worship of the Sun{4}.

(18} The worship of the Great One{5}.

(19) Bringing forth flames from one's mouth.

(20) Invoking Sirî, the goddess of Luck{6}—

Gotama the recluse holds aloof from such low arts."

{}
'Or he might say: "Whereas some recluses and Brahmans, while living on food provided by the faithful, earn their living by wrong means of livelihood, by low arts, such as these:—

(1) Vowing gifts to a god if a certain benefit be granted.

(2) Paying such vows.

(3) Repeating charms while lodging in an earth house{1}.

(4) Causing virility{2}.

(5) Making a man impotent{2}.

(6) Fixing on lucky sites for dwellings{3}.

(7) Consecrating sites{3}.

(8) Ceremonial rinsings of the mouth.

(9) Ceremonial bathings{4}.

(10) Offering sacrifices.

(11-14) Administering emetics and purgatives.

(15) Purging people to relieve the head (that is by giving drugs to make people sneeze).

(16) Oiling people's ears (either to make them grow or to heal sores on them).

(17) Satisfying people's eyes (soothing them by dropping medicinal oils into them).

(18) Administering drugs through the nose{5}.

(19) Applying collyrium to the eyes.

(20) Giving medical ointment for the eyes.

(21) Practising as an oculist.

(22) Practising as a surgeon.

(23) Practising as a doctor for children.

{}

(24) Administering roots and drugs.

(25) Administering medicines in rotation{1}—

Gotama the recluse holds aloof from such low arts."

'These, brethren, are the trifling matters, the minor details, of mere morality, of which the unconverted man, when praising the Tathâgata, might speak.'

Here end the Long Paragraphs on Conduct.
'There are, brethren. other things, profound, difficult to realise, hard to understand, tranquillising, sweet, not to be grasped by mere logic, subtle, comprehensible only by the wise{2}. These things the Tathâgata, having himself realised them and seen them face to face, hath set forth; and it is of them that they, who would rightly praise the Tathâgata in accordance with the truth, should speak.

'And what are they?
'There are recluses and Brahmans, brethren, who reconstruct the ultimate beginnings of things, whose speculations are concerned with the ultimate past{3}, and who on eighteen grounds put forward various {} assertions regarding it. And about what, with reference to what, do those venerable ones do so?
'There are, brethren, some recluses and Brahmans who are Eternalists{1}, and who, on four grounds, proclaim that both the soul and the world are eternal. And about what, with reference to what, do those venerable ones do so?
'In the first place, brethren, some recluse or Brahman by means of ardour, of exertion, of application, of earnestness, of careful thought, reaches up to such rapture of heart that, rapt in heart, he calls to mind his various dwelling-places in times gone by—in one birth, or in two, or three, or four, or five, or ten, or twenty, or thirty, or forty, or fifty, or a hundred, or a thousand, or in several hundreds or thousands or laks of births—to the effect that "There I had such and such a name, was of such and such a lineage{2} and caste{3}, lived on such and such food, experienced such and such pains and pleasures, had such and such a span of years. And when I fell from thence I was reborn in such and such a place under such and such a name, in such and such a lineage and caste, living on such and such food, experiencing such and such pains and pleasures, with such and such a span of years. And when I fell from thence I was reborn here." Thus does he recollect, in full detail both of condition and of custom, his various dwelling-places {} in times gone by. And he says to himself: "Eternal is the soul; and the world, giving birth to nothing new, is stedfast as a mountain peak, as a pillar firmly fixed; and though these living creatures transmigrate and pass away, fall from one state of existence and spring up in another, yet they are for ever and ever. And why must that be so? Because I, by means of ardour of exertion of application of earnestness of careful thought, can reach up to such rapture of heart that, rapt in heart, I can call to mind, and in full detail both of condition and of custom, my various dwelling-places in times gone by—by that is it that I know this—that the soul is eternal; and that the world, giving birth to nothing new, is stedfast as a mountain peak, as a pillar firmly fixed; and that though these living creatures transmigrate and pass away, fall from one state of existence and spring up in another, yet they are for ever and ever."

'This, brethren, is the first state of things on account of which, starting from which, some recluses and Brahmans are Eternalists, and maintain that both the soul and the world are eternal.
[The second case put is in all respects the same save that the previous births thus called to mind extend over a still longer period up to ten world aeons{1}.]
[The third case put is in all respects the same save that the previous birth: "thus called to mind extend over a still longer period up to forty world aeons.]
'And in the fourth place, brethren, on what ground is it, starting from what, that those venerable ones are Eternalists, and maintain that the soul and the world are eternal.
'In this case, brethren, some recluse or Brahman {} is addicted to logic and reasoning. He gives utterance to the following conclusion of his own, beaten out by his argumentations and based on his sophistry{1}; "Eternal is the soul; and the world, giving birth to nothing new, is stedfast as a mountain peak, as a pillar firmly fixed; and these living creatures, though they transmigrate and pass away, fall from one state of existence and spring up in another, yet they are for ever and ever."

'This, brethren, is the fourth state of things on the ground of which, starting from which, some recluses and Brahmans are Eternalists, and maintain that the soul and the world are eternal.

'These, brethren, are those recluses and Brahmans who are Eternalists, and in four ways maintain that both the soul and the world are eternal. For whosoever of the recluses and Brahmans are such and maintain this, they do so in these four ways, or in one or other of the same, and outside these there is no way in which this opinion is arrived at.
'Now of these, brethren, the Tathâgata knows that these speculations thus arrived at, thus insisted on, will have such and such a result, such and such an effect on the future condition of those who trust in them. That does he know, and he knows also other things far beyond (far better than those speculations){2}; and having that knowledge he is not puffed up, and thus untarnished he has, in his own heart{3}, realised the way of escape from them{4}, has understood, as they really are, the rising up and passing away of sensations, their sweet taste, their danger, how they cannot be relied on; and not grasping after any (of {} those things men are eager for) he, the Tathâgata, is quite set free{1}.
'These{2}, brethren, are those other things, profound, difficult to realise, hard to understand, tranquillising, sweet, not to be grasped by mere logic, subtle, comprehensible only by the wise, which the Tathâgata, having himself realised and seen face to face, hath set forth; and it is concerning these that they who would rightly praise the Tathâgata in accordance with the truth, should speak.'

Here ends the First Portion for Recitation.

CHAPTER II.

'There are, brethren, some recluses and Brahmans who are Eternalists with regard to some things, and in regard to others Non-Eternalists; who on four grounds maintain that the soul and the world are partly eternal and partly not.

'And what is it that these venerable ones depend upon, what is it that they start from, in arriving at this conclusion?

'Now there comes a time, brethren, when, sooner or later, after the lapse of a long long period, this world-system passes away. And when this happens beings have mostly been reborn in the World of Radiance, and there they dwell made of mind, feeding on joy, radiating light from themselves, traversing the air, continuing in glory; and thus they remain for a long long period of time.
'Now there comes also a time, brethren, when, {} sooner or later, this world-system begins to re-evolve. When this happens the Palace of Brahmâ appears, but it is empty. And some being or other, either because his span of years has passed or his merit is exhausted, falls from that World of Radiance, and comes to life in the Palace of Brahmâ. And there also he lives made of mind, feeding on joy, radiating light from himself, traversing the air, continuing in glory; and thus does he remain for a long long period of time.

'Now there arises in him, from his dwelling there so long alone, a dissatisfaction and a longing: "O! would that other beings might come to join me in this place!" And just then, either because their span of years had passed or their merit was exhausted, other beings fall from the World of Radiance, and appear in the Palace of Brahmâ as companions to him, and in all respects like him.

'On this, brethren, the one who was first reborn thinks thus to himself: "I am Brahmâ, the Great Brahmâ, the Supreme One, the Mighty, the All-seeing, the Ruler, the Lord of all, the Maker, the Creator, the Chief of all, appointing to each his place, the Ancient of days, the Father of all that are and are to be{1}. These other beings are of my creation. And why is that so? A while ago I thought, 'Would that they might come!' And on my mental aspiration, behold the beings came."
'And those beings themselves, too, think thus: "This must be Brahmâ, the Great Brahmâ, the Supreme, the Mighty, the All-seeing, the Ruler, the Lord of all, the Maker, the Creator, the Chief of all, appointing to each his place, the Ancient of days, the Father of all that are {} and are to be, And we must have been created by him. And why? Because, as we see, it was he who was here first, and we came after that."

'On this, brethren, the one who first came into existence there is of longer life, and more glorious, and more powerful than those who appeared after him. And it might well be, brethren, that some being on his falling from that state, should come hither. And having come hither he might go forth from the household life into the homeless state, And having thus become a recluse he, by reason of ardour of exertion of application of earnestness of careful thought, reaches up to such rapture of heart that, rapt in heart, he calls to mind his last dwelling-place, but not the previous ones. He says to himself: "That illustrious Brahmâ, the Great Brahmâ, the Supreme One, the Mighty, the All-seeing, the Ruler, the Lord of all, the Maker, the Creator, the Chief of all, appointing to each his place, the Ancient of days, the Father of all that are and are to be, he by whom we were created, he is stedfast immutable eternal, of a nature that knows no change, and he will remain so for ever and ever. But we who were created by him have come hither as being impermanent mutable limited in duration of life.

'This, brethren, is the first state of things on account of which, starting out from which, some recluses and Brahmans, being Eternalists as to some things, and Non-eternalists as to others, maintain that the soul and the world are partly eternal and partly not.
'And what is the second?

'There are, brethren, certain gods called the "Debauched by Pleasure{1}," For ages they pass their time in the pursuit of the laughter and sport of sensual lusts. In consequence thereof their self-possession is corrupted, and through the loss of their self-control they fall from that state:{2}.

{}
'Now it might well be, brethren, that some being, on his falling from that state, should come hither. And having come hither he should, as in the last case, become a recluse, and acquire the power of recollecting his last birth, but only his last one.

'And he would say to himself: "Those gods who are not debauched by pleasure are stedfast, immutable, eternal, of a nature that knows no change, and they will remain so for ever and ever. But we—who fell from that state, having lost our self-control through being debauched by pleasure—we have come hither as being impermanent, mutable, limited in duration of life."
'And what is the third?

'There are, brethren, certain gods called "the Debauched in Mind{1}." They burn continually with envy{2} one against another, and being thus irritated, their hearts become ill-disposed towards each other, and being thus debauched, their bodies become feeble, and their minds imbecile. And those gods fall from that state.
'Now it might well be, brethren, that some {} being, on his falling from that state, should come hither; and having become a recluse should, as in the other cases, acquire the power of recollecting his last birth, but only his last one.

I And he would say to himself: "Those gods who are not debauched in mind do not continually burn with envy against each other, so their hearts do not become evil disposed one towards another, nor their bodies feeble and their minds imbecile. Therefore they fall not from that state; they are stedfast, immutable, eternal, of a nature that knows no change, and they will remain so for ever and ever. But we were corrupted in mind, being constantly excited by envy against one another. And being thus envious and corrupt our bodies became feeble, and our minds imbecile, and we fell from that state, and have come hither as being impermanent, mutable, limited in duration of life."

'This, brethren, is the third case.
'And what is the fourth?

'In this case, brethren, some recluse or Brahman is addicted to logic and reasoning. He gives utterance to the following conclusion of his own, beaten out by his argumentations and based on his sophistry: "This which is called eye and ear and nose and tongue and body is a self which is impermanent, unstable, not eternal, subject to change. But this which is called heart, or mind, or consciousness is a self which is permanent, stedfast, eternal, and knows no change, and it will remain for ever and ever{1}."
'This, brethren, is the fourth state of things, on the ground of which, starting from which, some recluses {} and Brahmans are Semi-eternalists, and in four ways maintain that the soul and the world are in some respects eternal, and in some not.

'These, brethren, are those recluses and Brahmans who are Semi-eternalists, and in four ways maintain that the soul and the world are eternal in some cases and not in others. For whosoever of the recluses and Brahmans are such and maintain this, they do so in these four ways or in one or other of the same; and outside these there is no way in which this opinion is arrived at.

'These, brethren, are those other things, profound, difficult to realise, hard to understand, tranquillising, sweet, not to be grasped by mere logic, subtle, comprehensible only by the wise, which the Tathâgata, having himself realised and seen face to face, hath set forth; and it is concerning these that they who would rightly praise the Tathâgata in accordance with the truth, should speak.'
'There are, brethren, certain recluses and Brahmans who are Extensionists{1}, and who in four ways set forth the infinity or finiteness of the world. And {} on what ground, starting out from what, do these venerable ones maintain this?
'In the first case, brethren, some recluse or Brahman, by means of ardour of exertion of application of earnestness of careful thought, reaches up to such rapture of heart that he, rapt in heart, dwells in the world imagining it finite. And he says thus to himself: "Finite is the world, so that a path could be traced round it{1}. And why is this so? Since I, by means of ardour of exertion of application of earnestness of careful thought, can reach up to such rapture of heart that, rapt in heart, I dwell in the world perceiving it to be finite—by that I know this."

'This, brethren, is the first case.
'The second case is similar, only that the conclusion is: "Infinite is the world without a limit. Those recluses and Brahmans who say it is finite, so that a path could be traced round it, are wrong{2}."

'The third case is similar, only that the conclusion is that he imagines the world limited in the upward and downward directions, but infinite across; he declares both the former conclusions to be wrong.

'In the fourth case, brethren, some recluse or Brahman is addicted to logic and reasoning. He gives utterance to the following conclusion of his own, beaten out by his argumentations and based on his sophistry: "This world is neither finite nor yet infinite, Those recluses and Brahmans who maintain either the first, or the second, or the third conclusion, are wrong. Neither is the world finite, nor is it infinite."

'This, brethren, is the fourth case.

{}
'These, brethren, are those recluses and Brahmans who are Extensionists, and in four ways maintain that the world is finite or infinite. For whosoever of the recluses and Brahmans are such, and maintain this, they do so in these four ways or in one or other of the same; and outside these there is no way in which this opinion is arrived at.

'Now on what ground, starting out from what, do those venerable ones do so?
'In the first place, brethren, some recluse or Brahman does not understand the good in its real nature, nor the evil. And he thinks: "I neither know {} the good, as it really is, nor the evil. That being so, were I to pronounce this to be good or that to be evil, I might be influenced therein by my feelings or desires, by illwill or resentment. And under these circumstances I might be wrong; and my having been wrong might cause me the pain of remorse; and the sense of remorse might become a hindrance to me{1}." Thus fearing and abhorring the being wrong in an expressed opinion, he will neither declare anything to be good, nor to be bad; but on a question being put to him on this or that, he resorts to eel-wriggling, to equivocation, and says: "I don't take it thus. I don't take it the other way. But I advance no different opinion. And I don't deny your position. And I don't say it is neither the one, nor the other{2}."

'This is the first case.

'And what is the second?
[The same, reading] '. . . "Under these circumstances I might fall into that grasping condition of heart which causes rebirth; and my so falling might cause me the pain of remorse; and the sense of remorse might become a hindrance to me." Thus fearing and abhorring the falling into that state{3}, he will neither declare (&c., as in § 24).

'This is the second case.

'And what is the third?
[The same, reading] 'And he thinks: "I neither know the good, as it really is, nor the evil. Now there are recluses and Brahmans who are clever, subtle, experienced in controversy, hair-splitters, who go about, methinks, breaking to pieces by their wisdom {} the speculations of others. Were I to pronounce this to be good, or that to be evil, these men might join issue with me, call upon me for my reasons, point out my errors. And on their doing so, I might be unable to explain{1}. And that might cause me the pain of remorse; and the sense of remorse might become a hindrance to me." Thus fearing and abhorring the joinder of issue, he will neither declare (&c., as in § 24).

'This is the third case.

'And what is the fourth?
'In this case, brethren, some recluse or Brahman is dull, stupid. And it is by reason of his dullness, his stupidity, that when a question on this or that is put to him, he resorts to equivocation, to wriggling like an eel—"If you ask me whether there is another world,—well, if I thought there were, I would say so. But I don't say so. And I don't think it is thus or thus. And I don't think it is otherwise. And I don't deny it. And I don't say there neither is, nor is not, another world." Thus does he equivocate, and in like manner about each of such propositions as the following{2}:— a.(2) There is not another world.

(3) There both is, and is not, another world.
(4) There neither is, nor is not, another world. b.(1) There are Chance Beings (so called because they spring into existence, either here or in another world, without the intervention of parents, and seem therefore to come without a cause).

(2) There are no such beings.

(3) There both are, and are not, such beings.
(4) There neither are, nor are not, such beings. c.(1) There is fruit, result, of good and bad actions.

{}

(2) There is not.

(3) There both is, and is not.
(4) There neither is, nor is not. d.(1) A man who has penetrated to the truth{1} continues to exist after death.

(2) He does not.

(3) He both does, and does not.

(4) He neither does, nor does not.

This, brethren, is the fourth case{2}.
'These, brethren, are those recluses and Brahmans who wriggle like eels; and who, when a question is put to them on this or that, resort to equivocation, to eel-wriggling; and that in four ways. For whosoever do so, they do so in these four ways, or in one or other of the same; there is no other way in which they do so.

'Now of these, brethren, the Tathâgata knows that these speculations thus arrived at, thus insisted on, will have such and such a result, such and such an effect on the future condition of those who trust in them. That does he know, and he knows also other things far beyond (far better than those speculations); and having that knowledge he is not puffed up, and thus untarnished he has, in his own heart, realised the way of escape from them, has understood, as they really are, the rising up and passing away of sensations, their sweet taste, their danger, how they cannot be relied on, and not grasping after any (of those things men are eager for) he, the Tathâgata, is quite set free.
'These, brethren, are those other things, profound, difficult to realise, hard to understand, tranquillising, {} sweet, not to be grasped by mere logic, subtle, comprehensible only by the wise, which the Tathâgata; having himself realised and seen face to face, hath set forths and it is concerning these that they who would rightly praise the Tathâgata in accordance with the truth, should speak.'

'There are, brethren, some recluses and Brahmans who are Fortuitous-Originists{1}, and who in two ways maintain that the soul and the world arise without a cause. And on what ground, starting out from what, do they do so?
'There are, brethren, certain gods called Unconscious Beings{2}. As soon as an idea occurs to them they fall from that state. Now it may well be, brethren, that a being, on falling from that state, should come hither; and having come hither he might go forth from the household life into the homeless state. And having thus become a recluse he, by reason of ardour and so on (as in the other cases) reaches up to such rapture of heart that, rapt in heart, he calls to mind how that idea occurred to him, but not more than that. He says to himself: "Fortuitous {} in origin are the soul and the world. And why so? Because formerly I was not, but now am. Having not been, I have come to be."

'This, brethren, is the first state of things on account of which, starting out from which, some recluses and Brahmans become Fortuitous-Originists, and maintain that the soul and the world arise without a cause.

32, 33. 'And what is the second?

'In this case, brethren, some recluse or Brahman is addicted to logic and reasoning. He gives utterance to the following conclusion of his own, beaten out by his argumentations, and based on his sophistry: "The soul and the world arose without a cause."

'This, brethren, is the second case.
'Now of these, brethren, the Tathâgata knows that these speculations thus arrived at, thus insisted on, will have such and such a result, such and such an effect on the future condition of those who trust in them. That does he know, and he knows also other things far beyond (far better than those speculations); and having that knowledge he is not puffed up, and thus untarnished he has, in his own heart, realised the way of escape from them, has understood, as they really are, the rising up and passing away of sensations, their sweet taste, their danger, how they cannot be relied on, and not grasping after any (of those things men are eager for) he, the Tathâgata, is quite set free.

'There are, brethren, recluses and Brahmans who arrange the future, whose speculations are concerned with the future, and who on forty-four grounds put forward various assertions regarding the future. And on account of what, starting out from what, do they do so?
'There are, brethren, recluses and Brahmans who hold the doctrine of a conscious existence after death{2}, and who maintain in sixteen ways that {} the soul after death is conscious. And how do they do so?
'They say of the soul: "The soul after death, not subject to decay, and conscious, (1) has form{1}, (2) is formless{2}, (3) has, and has not, form, (4) neither has, nor has not, form, (5) is finite, (6) is infinite, (7) is both, (8) is neither, (9) has one mode of consciousness, (10) has various modes of consciousness, (11) has limited consciousness, (12) has infinite consciousness, (13) is altogether happy, (14) is altogether miserable, (15) is both, (16) is neither."
'These, brethren, are those recluses and Brahmans who hold the doctrine of a conscious existence after death, and who maintain in sixteen ways that the soul after death is conscious. And those who do so, all of them, do so in one or other of these sixteen ways. There is none beside.

{}

'These, brethren, are those other things, profound, difficult to realise, hard to understand. tranquillising, sweet, not to be grasped by mere logic, subtle, comprehensible only by the wise, which the Tathâgata, having himself realised and seen face to face, hath set forth; and it is concerning these that they who would rightly praise the Tathâgata in accordance with the truth, should speak.'

Here ends the Second Portion for Recitation.

CHAPTER III.

'There are, brethren, recluses and Brahmans who hold the doctrine of an unconscious existence after death, and who maintain in eight ways that the soul after death is unconscious. And how do they do so?
'They say of the soul: "The soul after death, not subject to decay, and unconscious, (1) has form, (2) is formless, (3) has, and has not, form, (4) neither has, nor has not, form (5) is finite, (6) is infinite, (7) is both, (8) is neither."
'These, brethren, are those recluses and Brahmans who hold the doctrine of an unconscious existence after death, and who maintain in eight ways that the soul after death is unconscious. And those who do so, all of them, do so in one or other of those eight ways. There is none beside.
'Now of these, brethren, the Tathâgata knows that these speculations thus arrived at, thus insisted on, will have such and such a result, such and such an effect on the future condition of those who trust in them. That does he know, and he knows also other things far beyond (far better than those speculations); and having that knowledge he is not puffed up, and thus untarnished he has, in his own heart, realised the {} way of escape from them, has understood, as they really are, the rising up and passing away of sensations. their sweet taste, their danger, how they cannot be relied on, and not grasping after any (of those things men are eager for) he, the Tathâgata, is quite set free.

5-8. [Similar sections for those who maintain in eight ways that the soul after death is neither conscious nor unconscious.]

{1}9. 'There are, brethren, recluses and Brahmans who are Annihilationists, who in seven ways maintain the cutting off, the destruction, the annihilation of a living being{2}. And on account of what, starting out from what, do they do so?

'In the first place, brethren, some recluse or Brahman puts forth the following opinion, the following view: "Since, Sir, this soul has form, is built up of the four elements, and is the offspring of father and mother, it is cut off, destroyed, on the dissolution of the body; and does not continue after death; and then, Sir, the soul is completely annihilated." Thus is it that some maintain the cutting off, the destruction, the annihilation of a living being.
'To him another says: "There is, Sir, such a soul as you describe. That I do not deny. But the whole soul, Sir, is not then completely annihilated. For there is a further soul—divine, having form, belonging to the sensuous plane, feeding on solid food. That you neither know of nor perceive. But I know {} and have experienced it. And since this soul, on the dissolution of the body, is cut off and destroyed, does not continue after death, then is it, Sir, that the soul is completely annihilated." Thus is it that some maintain the cutting off, the destruction, the annihilation of a living being.

'To him another says: "There is, Sir, such a soul as you describe. That I do not deny. But the whole soul, Sir, is not then completely annihilated. For there is a further soul-divine, having form, made of mind, with all its major and minor parts complete, not deficient in any organ. This you neither know of nor perceive. But I know and have experienced it. And since this soul, on the dissolution of the body, is cut off and destroyed, does not continue after death, then is it, Sir, that the soul is completely annihilated." Thus is it that some maintain the cutting off, the destruction, the annihilation of a living being.

'To him another says: "There is, Sir, such a soul as you describe. That I do not deny. But the whole soul, Sir, is not then completely annihilated. For there is a further soul, which by passing beyond ideas of form, by the dying out of ideas of resistance, by paying no heed to ideas of difference, conscious that space is infinite, reaches up to the plane of the infinity of space{1}. This you neither know of nor perceive. But I know and have experienced it. And since this soul, on the dissolution of the body, is cut off and destroyed, does not continue after death, then is it, Sir, that the soul is completely annihilated." Thus is it that some maintain the cutting off, the destruction, the annihilation of a living being.

'To him another says: "There is, Sir, such a soul as you describe. That I do not deny. But the whole soul, Sir, is not then completely annihilated.

{}

For there is a further soul, which having passed beyond the plane of the infinity of space, knowing that consciousness is infinite, reaches up to the plane of the infinity of consciousness{1}. This you neither know of nor perceive. But I know and have experienced it. And since this soul, on the dissolution of the body, is cut off and destroyed, does not continue after death, then is it, Sir, that the soul is completely annihilated." Thus is it that some maintain the cutting off, the destruction, the annihilation of a living being.

'To him another says: "There is, Sir, such a soul as you describe. That I do not deny. But the whole soul, Sir, is not then completely annihilated. For there is a further soul, which by passing quite beyond the plane of the infinity of consciousness, knowing that there is nothing, reaches up to the plane of no obstruction{2}. This you neither know of nor perceive. But I know and have experienced it. And since this soul, on the dissolution of the body, is cut off and destroyed, does not continue after death, then is it, Sir, that the soul is completely annihilated." Thus is it that some maintain the cutting off, the destruction, the annihilation of a living being.
'To him another says: "There is, Sir, such a soul as you describe. That I do not deny. But the whole soul, Sir, is not then completely annihilated. For there is a further soul, which by passing quite beyond the plane of no obstruction, realises 'This is good, this is excellent,' and reaches up to the plane of neither ideas nor the absence of ideas{3}. This you {} neither know of, nor perceive. But I know and have experienced it. And since this soul, on the dissolution of the body, is cut off, destroyed, does not continue after death, then is it, Sir, that the soul is completely annihilated." Thus is it that some maintain the cutting off, the destruction, the annihilation of a living being.

'These, brethren, are the recluses and Brahmans who are Annihilationists and in seven ways maintain the cutting off, the destruction, the annihilation of a living being. And whosoever do so they, all of them, do so in one or other of these seven ways. There is none beside.
[Repetition of § 40, above , setting forth that other, higher, knowledge of a Tathâgata, for which alone he can be rightly praised.]
'There are, brethren, recluses and Brahmans who hold the doctrine of happiness in this life, who in five ways maintain the complete salvation, in this visible world, of a living being. And relying on what, starting out from what, do they do so?
'Hereon, brethren, some recluse or Brahman may have the following opinion, the following view: "Whensoever the soul, in full enjoyment and possession {} of the five pleasures of sense, indulges all its functions, then, Sir, the soul has attained, in this visible world, to the highest Nirvâna{1}." Thus do some maintain the complete happiness, in the visible world, of a living being.

'To him another says: "There is, Sir, such a soul as you describe. That I do not deny. But the soul does not by that alone attain to the highest Nirvâna. And why not? Sensuous delights, Sir, are transitory, they involve pain, their very nature is to fluctuate. And grief, lamentation, pain, sorrow, and loathing arise out of their inconstancy and change. But whensoever the soul, putting away sensuous delights and evil dispositions, enters into and abides in the First Ghâna, the state of joy and ease, born of seclusion, accompanied by reflection, accompanied by investigation, then, Sir, has the soul attained, in this visible world, to the highest Nirvâna." Thus do some maintain the complete happiness, in the visible world, of a living being.

'To him another says: "There is, Sir, such a soul as you describe. That I do not deny. But the soul does not by that alone attain to the highest Nirvâna. And why not? Because inasmuch as that state involves reasoning and investigation it is stamped as being gross. But whensoever, Sir, the soul, suppressing both reasoning and investigation, enters into and abides in the Second Ghâna, the state of joy and ease, born of serenity, without reflection or investigation, a state of elevation of mind, internal calm of heart, then, Sir, has the soul attained, in this visible world, to the highest Nirvâna." Thus do some maintain the complete happiness, in the visible world, of a living being.

{}
'To him another says: "There is, Sir, such a soul as you describe. That I do not deny. But the soul does not by that alone attain to the highest Nirvâna. And why not? Because inasmuch as that state involves the sense of joy, of exhilaration of heart, it is stamped as being gross. But whensoever, Sir, the soul, by absence of the longing after joy remains in equanimity, mindful and self-possessed, and experiences in the body that ease of which the Arahats speak (when they say) 'the man serene and thoughtful dwells at ease,' and so enters into and abides in the Third Ghâna—then, Sir, has the soul attained, in this visible world, to the highest Nirvâna." Thus do some maintain the complete happiness, in the visible world, of a living being.

'To him another says: "There is, Sir, such a soul as you describe. That I do not deny. But the soul does not by that alone attain to the highest Nirvâna. And why not? Because inasmuch as that state involves a constant dwelling of the mind on the ease it has enjoyed it is stamped as gross. But whensoever, Sir, the soul, by putting away ease, by putting away pain. by the previous dying away both of joys and griefs has entered into and abides in the Fourth Ghâna{1}—a state made pure by self-possession and equanimity, without pain arid without ease—then, Sir, has the soul attained, in this visible world, to the highest Nirvâna." Thus do some maintain the complete happiness, in the visible world, of a living being.
'These, brethren, are the recluses and Brahmans who hold the doctrine of happiness in this life, who in five ways maintain the complete salvation, in this visible world, of a living being. And those who do {} so, all of them, do so in one or other of these five ways. There is none beside.
[Repetition of § 40, above , setting forth that other, higher, knowledge of a Tathâgata, for which alone he ean be rightly praised.]
'These, brethren, are the recluses and Brahmans who arrange the future, whose speculations are concerned with the future, and who on forty-four grounds put forward various assertions regarding the future. And those who do so, all of them, do so in one or other of these forty-four ways. There is none beside.
[Repetition of § 40, above , setting forth that other, higher, knowledge of a Tathâgata, for which alone he can be rightly praised.]
'These, brethren, are the recluses and Brahmans who reconstruct the past, and arrange the future, or who do both, whose speculations are concerned with both, and who in sixty-two ways put forward propositions with regard to the past and to the future, and those who do so, all of them, do so in one or other of these sixty-two ways. There is none beside.
[Repetition of § 40, above , setting forth that other, higher, knowledge of a Tathâgata, for which alone he can be rightly praised.]
'Of these, brethren, those recluses and Brahmans who are Eternalists, who in four ways maintain that the soul and the world are eternal:

(2) those who are Semi-eternalists, who in four ways maintain that the soul and the world are partly eternal and partly not:

(3) those who are Extensionists, who in four ways maintain the infinity or the finiteness of the world:

(4) those who are Eel-wrigglers, who when a question is put to them on this or that resort, in four ways, to equivocation, to wriggling like eels:

(5) those who are Fortuitous-Originists, who in two ways maintain that the soul and the world arose without a cause:

{}

(6) those who in any of these eighteen ways reconstruct the past:

(7) those who hold the doctrine of a conscious existence after death, who maintain in sixteen ways that the soul after death is conscious:

(8) those who hold the doctrine of an unconscious existence after death, who maintain in eight ways that the soul after death is unconscious:

(9) those who maintain in eight ways that the soul after death is neither conscious nor unconscious:

(10) those who are Annihilationists, who maintain in seven ways the cutting off, the destruction, the annihilation of a living being:

(11) those who hold the doctrine of happiness in this life, who in five ways maintain the complete salvation, in this visible world, of a living being—

That opinion of theirs is based only on the personal sensations, on the worry and writhing consequent thereon{1}, of those venerable recluses and Brahmans, who know not, neither perceive, and are subject to all kinds of craving:

45 foll. [41, 42] 'Those opinions of theirs are therefore based upon contact (through the senses).

58 foll. 'That they should experience those sensations without such contact, such a condition of things could not be.
'They, all of them, receive those sensations through continual contact in the spheres of touch. To them on account of the sensations arises craving, on account of the craving arises the fuel (that is, the necessary condition, the food, the basis, of future lives). from the fuel results becoming, from the tendency to become arises rebirth, and from rebirth comes death, and grief, lamentation, pain, sorrow, and despair. It is, brethren, when a brother understands, {} as they really are, the origin and the end, the attraction, the danger, and the way of escape from the six realms of contact, that he gets to know what is above, beyond, them all{1}.

'For whosoever, brethren, whether recluses or Brahmans, are thus reconstructors of the past or arrangers of the future, or who are both, whose speculations are concerned with both, who put forward various propositions with regard to the past and to the future, they, all of them, are entrapped in the net of these sixty-two modes; this way and that they plunge about, but they are in it; this way and that they may flounder, but they are included in it, caught in it.

'Just, brethren, as when a skilful fisherman or fisherlad should drag a tiny pool of water with a fine-meshed net he might fairly think: "Whatever fish of size may be in this pond, everyone will be in this net; flounder about as they may, they will be included in it, and caught"—just so is it with these speculators about the past and the future, in this net, flounder as they may, they are included and caught.

'The outward form, brethren, of him who has won the truth{2}, stands before you, but that which binds it to rebirth is cut in twain. So long as his body shall last, so long do gods and men behold him. On the dissolution of the body, beyond the end of his life, neither gods nor men shall see him.

'Just, brethren, as when the stalk of a bunch of mangoes has been cut, all the mangoes that were hanging on that stalk go with it; just so, brethren, though the outward form of him who has won the truth stands before you, that which binds it to rebirth has been cut in twain. So long as his body shall last, so long do gods and men behold him. On the dissolution of the body, beyond the end of his life, neither gods nor men shall see him.'

{}
When he had thus spoken, the venerable Ananda said to the Blessed One: 'Strange, Lord, is this, and wonderful! And what name has this exposition of the truth?'

'Ananda, you may remember this exposition as the Net of Advantage, and as the Net of Truth, and as the Supreme Net, and as the Net of Theories; remember it even as the Glorious Victory in the day of battle!'

Thus spake the Blessed One, and glad at heart the brethren exalted his word. And on the delivery of this discourse the thousandfold world-system shook.

Here ends the Brahma-gâla Sutta.

{}

INTRODUCTION

SÂMAÑÑA-PHALA SUTTA.

THE first Dialogue deals with the most fundamental conceptions that lay at the root of the Buddha's doctrine, his Dharma, his ethical and philosophical view of life—the second puts forth his justification for the foundation of the Order, for the enunciation of the Vinaya, the practical rules of canon law by which life in the Order is regulated. The Rules themselves are not discussed. It is only certain ethical precepts that are referred to in so many words. The question is a larger and wider one than the desirability of any particular injunction. It is as to the advantage, as to the use, of having any Order at all.

King Agâtasattu of Magadha, after pointing out the advantages derived from their occupations by a long list of ordinary people in the world, asks whether the members of the Order, who have given up the world, derive any corresponding advantage, visible in this life, from theirs. The answer is a list of such advantages, arranged in an ascending scale of importance, each one mentioned being said to be better and sweeter than the one just before described.

The list of ordinary occupations given in the question is interesting evidence, especially as compared with the later lists of a similar kind referred to in the notes, of social conditions in the Ganges valley at the time when this Dialogue was composed. And the introductory story, in which the king explains how he had put a similar question to the founders of six other orders, and gives the six replies he received, is interesting evidence of the views held by the authors of the Dialogue as to beliefs current at the time.
The replies are no less interesting from the fact, pointed out by the king, that they are not to the point. Each of the six teachers goes off into a general statement of his theory instead of answering the question put. But as the works, if any, of all these teachers save one—Nigantha Nâta-putta—have been irretrievably lost, the summary here given of their doctrines is of great importance as evidence of the sort of {} speculation they favoured. The six paragraphs are short and obscure, and this is just what we should expect. As is the case with the accounts given by early Catholic writers of opinions they held to be heretical, the versions of these six sets of belief are neither adequate nor clear. But a number of other references to these six theories are found, as pointed out in the notes, both in the Buddhist and in the Gain records. And it would be premature to discuss our six paragraphs until the whole of the available evidence is made accessible to scholars. It is noteworthy that in at least two of these answers some of the expressions used seem to be in a Prâkrit differing in dialect from the Pâli of the Pitakas. And these are not the only instances of the preservation in the Pitakas of ancient dialectical varieties.

The answer which the Buddha is represented to have given, in his turn, to the question raised by the king, takes (as is so often the case) the form of a counter-question. 'The very man whom, under ordinary circumstances, you would treat as slave or servant—what treatment would you mete out to him after he had joined an Order?' The king confesses that he would treat him as a person worthy of honour and respect. And neither in question nor answer is there any reference specially to the Buddhist Order. It is taken for granted, alike by the Buddha and the king, that any one who had devoted himself to the religious life, whatever the views or opinions he held, or the association he had joined, would, in accordance with the remarkable tolerance of that age and country, be treated with equal respect and courtesy. And the same note runs all through the Dialogue. The Buddha shows the advantages of the 'life of a recluse,' not necessarily of a follower of his own. And most of what he says would apply as much to his strongest opponents as to the members of his own Order.

The following, in a constantly ascending order of merit, are the advantages, visible in this life, which he claims for such a recluse:— The honour and respect shown to a member of a religious order. The training in all those lower kinds of mere morality set out in the very ancient document called 'The Sîlas.' The importance of this document has been discussed above, in the Introduction to the Brahma-gâla. The details of it may be summarised here as follows:— a. Mercy and kindness to all living things; § 43{1}.
{} b. Honesty. c. Chastity. d. Truthfulness, peacefulness, courtesy, and good sense in speech; § 44. e. Abstinence from luxury of twelve different kinds, and freedom from trickery and violence; § 45. f. Not injuring plants; § 46. g. Not laying up treasure, of seven kinds; § 47. h. Not frequenting shows, of twenty-six specified kinds; § 48. i. Not playing games, eighteen being mentioned by name; § 49. j. Not using luxurious rugs, &c., of twenty different kinds; § 50. k. Not using toilet luxuries, of which twenty-two are specified;§51. l. Not talking vain things, of which twenty-seven instances are given; § 52. m. Not using sophistical and rude phrases when talking of higher things; § 53. n. Not acting as go-between; § 54. o. Not practising trickery and mystery under the guise. of religion; § 55. p. Not gaining a living by low arts, such as auguries (§ 56); advising as to the best sorts of various things (§ 57); prophesying as to war and its results (§ 58); astrology (§ 59); foretelling famine or plague or the reverse (§ 60); arranging marriages, using spells, or worshipping gods (§ 61); various sorts of medical trickery (§ 62).
The confidence of heart, absence of fear, resulting from the consciousness of right doing; § 63.
The habit of keeping guarded the door of his senses; § 64.
The constant self-possession he thus gains; § 65.
The power of being content with little, with simplicity of life; § 66.
The emancipation of heart from the Five Hindrances to self-mastery—covetousness, ill-temper, laziness, worry and flurry, and perplexity; §§ 68-74.
The joy and peace that, as a result of the sense of this emancipation, fills his whole being; § 75.

{}
The practice of the Four Ghânas; §§ 75-82{1}.
The Insight arising from knowledge (ñâna-dassana); §§ 83, 84.
The power of projecting mental images; §§ 85, 86.
The five modes of mystic Insight (abhiññâ); §§ 87-96— a. The practice of Iddhi. b. The Heavenly Ear-hearing heavenly sounds. c. Knowledge of others' thoughts. d. Memory of his own previous births. e. Knowledge of other people's previous births (the Heavenly Eye).
The realisation of the Four Truths, the destruction of the Âsavas, and attainment of Arahatship; §§ 97, 98.

Now it is perfectly true that of these thirteen consecutive propositions, or groups of propositions, it is only the last, No. 13, which is exclusively Buddhist. But the things omitted, the union of the whole of those included into one system, the order in which the ideas are arranged, the way in which they are treated as so many steps of a ladder whose chief value depends on the fact that it leads up to the culminating point of Nirvâna in Arahatship—all this is also distinctively Buddhist. And further, the whole statement, the details of it, the order of it, must have soaked very thoroughly into the minds of the early Buddhists. For we find the whole, or nearly the whole, of it repeated (with direct reference by name to our Sutta as the oldest and most complete enumeration of it) not only in all the subsequent dialogues translated in this volume, but also in many others.

In these repetitions the order is always the same, and the details (so far as they occur) are the same. Kut one or other of the thirteen groups is often omitted, and the application of those of them that remain is always different—that is to say, they are enumerated in support, or in illustration; of a different proposition.

A comparison of some of these other applications of the list is full of suggestion as to its real meaning here.
In the Ambattha the point is as to caste. The Kshatriya caste is the most honourable, but wisdom and conduct are higher still. What then is the right conduct, what the right {} wisdom? The conduct (karana) is all the above paragraphs from 2-9 inclusive; the wisdom (viggâ) is the rest, 10-13{1}.

In the Sonadanda the question is: 'What is the true Brahman?' After, by his usual Socratic method, leading Sonadanda to acknowledge that the only two essential requisites are goodness and intelligence, these last are explained as above (2-9 and 10-13).

In the Kûtadanta the question is as to the right sort of sacrifice. After rejecting animal sacrifice we have generosity (of various kinds, each better than the last), faith, training in the precepts, and 2-13, set forth as each of them abetter sacrifice than the last.

In the Gâliya the question is whether the soul is the same as, or is other than, the body. The answer is a counter-question. Repeating our sections 2-13 (omitting 11 and 12) the Buddha asks, at the end of each subdivision, whether men who do that would be likely to trouble themselves as to speculations about the soul? And the answer being, of course, 'No,' rejoins that neither does he.

In the Potthapâda the question is as to the way in which various recluses attain to mystic trance. The Buddha's answer is that it is by training; and the training should be first in morals (our groups 2 and 3) then in the things mentioned in our groups 4-9, and then in the Four Arûpa Vimokkhas. The Dialogue then takes up other questions, omitting our groups 10-13.

In the Kevaddha the talk is on miracles, mystic powers. And the Buddha, disparaging all others, calls attention to our groups 2-13.

In the Lohikka the question is as to who is the right sort of teacher; and the answer is that it is the one whose pupil carries out our groups 2-13.

In the Tevigga the question is as to the way by which one can attain to union with God (Brahmâ-sahavyatâ). The answer gives our groups 1-8, and then adds the Four Brahma-vihâras.
In the shorter of the two Hatthipadopama Suttas {}

(No. 27 in the Magghima), the question discussed between a Brahman and an ascetic is as to the ascendancy of the Buddha over the other teachers of the time. The Buddha himself giving afterwards the full reason, repeats our group 2 (omitting however clauses f to p inclusive{1}), then repeats our groups 6, 3, 4, 5, 7, 8, 9, then omitting groups 1O and 11, quotes two only, the last two (omitting the first three){2} of the five Abhiññâs in group 12, and concludes with group 13 in full.

In the Mahâ Tanhâ-sankhaya Sutta (No. 38 in the Magghima), we have the same sequence—our group 2 (omitting f to p), then 6, 3, 4, 5, 7, 8, and 9. The rest is omitted.

In the next Sutta, the longer of the Assapuras, after a summary in different words of most of the contents of our group 2, we have our group 4, then two paragraphs not in our Sutta, then our groups 5, 7, 8, 9, and the last two only out of group 12, and then (as a climax) our group 13—all enumerated to show what is the true Brahman, the true samana.

Then again in the Sakuludâyi, No. 79 of the Magghima, it is declared to be not for the sake of realising happiness that recluses take up the celibate life in the Order under the Buddha; but for the sake of those matters set forth in our groups 2-9 inclusive 3, of the two last of the Abhiññâs, and above all for the sake of the attainment of Arahatship.

Besides the differences pointed out above between the Suttas preserved in the Digha, and in the Magghima, respectively—differences due, I think, solely to the difference in the subjects under discussion—there are also a few verbal differences, amounting to scarcely more than 'various readings,' due, perhaps, to the divergent traditions of the Digha-bhânakâ and the Magghima-bhânakâ (the students and repeaters of the two collections in which the Dialogues are handed down to us).
However this may be, it is clear that the sum and the sequence of the paragraphs in our Sutta is regarded as of {} great importance, not as a statement of Buddliist ethics, or of Buddhist philosophy, or of the Buddhist religion, but as a statement of the advantages that may be looked for as the result of life in an Order. And further that the statement has to be slightly modified and shortened when the question is the narrower one of life in the particular community which we call the Buddhist Order.

The difference is interesting—in the scheme for the Buddhist Order the ñâna-dassana, the power of projecting a mental image (apparently of oneself, which seems like the earliest germ of the modern Yoga ideas about the astral body), the powers of Iddhi, the power of hearing heavenly sounds (something like hearing the music of the spheres), and the power of knowing the thoughts of others, are all omitted.

In the abstract given above, I have called these last three, together with the power of calling to mind one's own, and other peoples', previous births, the Five Abhiññâs, or Intuitions. And this is in accord with the passages on which Childers's article sub voce is based. But these powers are not so called either in our text, or in any other Dialogue yet published. The use of the word abhiññâ in this technical sense would seem therefore (to judge from the published texts) to be a sign of the later date of the book in which it occurs{1}. In the oldest portions of the Pitakas the word is always used in the general sense of insight, and if any special limitation is hinted at, it is simply the insight of Arahatship that is emphasised (as in Dhammapada 423, which is a quotation from Iti-Vuttaka, No. 99, and is quoted also at Anguttara I, 165){2}.
The Eightfold Path is not mentioned in our Sutta. This is not merely because it is not possible always to mention {} everything. The Path does not come within the special advantages of life in the Order. To enter upon the Path to Arahatship, to walk along it, is not peculiar to members of the Order. A bhikshu might reach the goal either along that path, open also to laymen{1}, or by the process set out in our Sutta. They are two quite distinct methods of training, of which our Sutta deals only with one It is essential, in order to understand Buddhist ethics, to bear in mind that there are (and must be in such a system) several different lines along which both speculation and edifying teaching run. These are: The course of conduct laid down for the ordinary Buddhist layman, contained in the Gahapati-vaggas found in the various nikâyas{2}.

The rules as to the outward conduct of the members of the Order, laid down in the Pâtimokkha and in the Khandhakas{3}.

The system of self-training in higher things prescribed for members of the Order. Of this our present Sutta is a striking example.

The method of self-training laid down for those who have entered upon the Path to Arahatship. (The Four Truths, the Eightfold Path, and the Âsavas.)

In the first of these Buddhism goes very little beyond the current ethics of the day. In the second a very great deal has been simply incorporated from the rules found expedient by previous recluses, both Brahman and non-Brahman, though there are numerous differences, both of the positive regulations included, and also of things deliberately omitted. Even the third, as we have seen, cannot be considered, except in a very limited sense, as exclusively Buddhist. It is in the fourth that the essential doctrines of Buddhism are to be found. All four have, no doubt, become welded together into a more or less consistent whole. But to understand the whole, the relation of its various parts has to be kept constantly in view.

This will explain an apparent contradiction. The last Sutta quoted, the Sakuludâyi, states that the aim of the religious or celibate life as led in the Buddha's Order, is the attainment, in order, of the various things set out in our Sutta (groups 2-9, 12 and 13).

{}

Now in other passages other things are stated to be the aim.

Thus in the Samyutta (IV, 51) the Buddha himself is represented as explaining that the celibate life (the brahma-kariyâ){1} is led by his followers for the sake of the complete understanding of pain (dukkha-pariññâ). Further on in the same book (VI, 253 = V, 6, 27) this is three times repeated, with the suggestive addition that there is one way to this, to wit, the Noble Eightfold Path.

Again, in the Anguttara (IV, 7) the higher life is said to be for the sake of getting rid of, of cutting through, seven Bonds which prevent one from attaining Arahatship. The argument on pp. 88, 99 (though the word brahma-kariyâ does not occur) comes to much the same thing. And further on in the same book (IV, 272) the object is stated to be for the sake of getting rid of five particular sorts of envy.

Nâgasena is therefore quite right when he says that the object of renouncing the world to live in the Order is for the sake of righteousness and peace{2}; and in another place that it is to the end that sorrow may pass away{3}. All these explanations belong to the Path, not to the rules of the Order. They are not really inconsistent with the other aim that our Sutta sets out. And they are only additional proof, if such were needed, that it is no more possible to sum up in a single phrase (as some writers have tried to do) the aim of Buddhism, or the object of life in the Order, than it would be to sum up in a similar way the aim of Christianity, or the object for which men enter a Christian Order. The aims are necessarily as various as the character and circumstances of the various individuals who take them up. And Nâgasena does not hesitate to add—and to add in speaking to a king—that some had joined the Order in terror at the tyranny of kings, some in fear of robbers, some because they were harassed by debt, and some perhaps merely to gain a livelihood.

This also would apply to other Orders both in India and elsewhere, and is quite consistent with our Sutta, which only purports to set forth the advantages the early Buddhists held to be the likely results of joining, from whatever motive, such an Order as their own.

{}

II. SÂMAÑÑA-PHALA SUTTA.

[THE FRUITS OF THE LIFE OF A RECLUSE.]

I. Thus have I heard. The Blessed One was once dwelling at Râgagaha in the Mango Grove of Gîvaka the children's physician{2}, with a great company of the brethren, with twelve hundred and fifty of the brethren. Now at that time the king of Magadha, Agâtasattu, the son of the Videha princess{3}, on the Uposatha day, held on the fifteenth, on Komudi (white {} water-lily), the full moon day of the fourth month{1}, at night, when the moon was full, was seated on the upper terrace roof of his palace surrounded by his ministers. And the king, on that sacred day, gave utterance to a hymn of joy, saying:

'How pleasant, friends, is the moonlight night!

How beautiful, friends, is the moonlight night!

How lovely, friends, is the moonlight night!

How soothing, friends, is the moonlight night!

How grand a sign, friends, is the moonlight night!

'Who is the recluse or Brahman whom we may call upon to-night, who, when we call upon him, shall be able to satisfy our hearts{2}?'

When he had thus spoken, a certain minister said to the king: 'There is, Sire, Pûrana Kassapa, the head of an order, of a following, the teacher of a school, well known and of repute as a sophist, revered by the people, a man of experience, who has long been a recluse, old and well stricken in years. Let your Majesty pay a visit to him. It may well be{3} that, on calling upon him, your heart, Sire, shall find peace.' But when he had thus spoken Agâtasattu the king kept silence.

3-7. Then other five ministers spake in the same terms of Makkhali of the cow-pen, of Agita of the garment of hair, of Pakudha Kakkâyana, of Sañgaya of the Belattha clan, and of the Nigantha of the Nâta clan. And still, to each, Agâtasattu the king kept silence.

{}
Now at that time Gîvaka the physician was seated, in silence, not far from Agâtasattu the king. And the king said to him: 'But you, friend Gîvaka, why do you say nothing?'

'The Blessed One, Sire, the Arahat, the all-awakened-one, is now lodging in our Mango Grove, with a great company of the brethren, with twelve hundred and fifty brethren. And this is the good report that has been noised abroad as to Gotama the Blessed One: "An Arahat, fully awakened, is the exalted One, abounding In wisdom and goodness, happy, with knowledge of the worlds, unsurpassed as a guide to mortals willing to be led, the teacher of gods and men, a blessed Buddha." Let your Majesty pay a visit to him. It may well be that, on calling upon him, your heart, Sire, shall find peace.'

'Then, friend Gîvaka, have the riding-elephants made ready.'— 'Very good, Sire!' said Gîvaka the physician in assent to the words of the king. And he had five hundred she-elephants made ready, and the state elephant the king was wont to ride, and had word brought to the king: 'The elephants, Sire, are caparisoned. Do now what seemeth to you meet.' Then the king had five hundred of his women mounted on the she-elephants, one on each; and himself mounted the state elephant; and he went forth, the attendants bearing torches, in royal pomp, from Râgagaha to Gîvaka the physician's Mango Grove.

And the king, when close upon the Mango Grove, was seized with a sudden fear and consternation, and the hairs on his body stood erect. And anxious and excited, he said to Gîvaka: 'You are playing me no tricks, Gîvaka? You are not deceiving me? You are not betraying me to my foes? How can it be that there should be no sound at all, not a sneeze nor a cough, in so large an assembly of the brethren, among twelve hundred and fifty of the brethren?'
'Fear not, O king. I play no trick, neither deceive you; nor would I betray you to the foe. Go on, O king, {} go straight on! There, in the pavilion hall, the lamps are burning.'
Then the king went on, on his elephant as far as the path was passable for elephants, and then on foot, to the door of the pavilion; and then said to Gîvaka:

'But where, Gîvaka, is the Blessed One?'

'That is he, O king, sitting against the middle pillar, and facing the East, with the brethren around him.'

Then the king went up, and stood respectfully on one side. And as he stood there and looked on the assembly, seated in perfect silence, calm as a clear lake, he broke out: 'Would that my son, Udâyi Bhadda, might have such calm as this assembly of the brethren now has!'

'Do your thoughts then go where love guides them?'

'I love the boy, and wish that he, Udâyi Bhadda, might enjoy such calm as this assembly has.'
Then the king bowed to the Blessed One, and stretching forth his joined palms in salutation to the Order took his seat aside, and said to the Blessed One: 'I would fain question the Blessed One on a certain matter, if he give me opportunity to set forth the question.'

'Ask, O king, whatsoever you desire.'
'There are, Sir, a number of ordinary crafts:—mahouts, horsemen, charioteers, archers, standard bearers, camp marshalls, camp followers, high military officers of royal birth, military scouts{1}, men brave as elephants, champions, heroes, warriors in buckskin, home-born slaves, cooks, barbers, bath attendants, confectioners, garland-makers, washermen, weavers, basket-makers, potters, arithmeticians, accountants, and whatsoever others of like kind there may be. All {} these enjoy, in this very world, the visible fruits of their craft. They maintain themselves, and their parents and children and friends, in happiness and comfort. They keep up gifts, the object of which is gain on high, to recluses and Brahmans,—gifts that lead to rebirth in heaven, that redound to happiness, and have bliss as their result. Can you, Sir, declare to me any such immediate fruit, visible in this very world, of the life of a recluse{1}?'
'Do you admit to us, O king, that you have put the same question to other recluses or to Brahmans?'

'I do, Lord.'

'Then tell us how they answered it, if you do not mind.'

'I have no objection where the Blessed One, or others like him, are.'
'Then speak, O king.' "Once I went to Pûrana Kassapa{2}. And after exchanging with him the greetings and compliments of friendship and courtesy, I seated myself beside him, and put to him the same question as I have now put, Lord, to you.
'Then Pûrana Kassapa said to me: "To him who acts, O king, or causes another to act, to him who mutilates or causes another to mutilate, to him who punishes or causes another to punish, to him who causes grief or torment, to him who trembles or causes others to tremble, to him who kills a living creature, who takes what is not given, who breaks into houses, who commits dacoity, or robbery, or highway robbery, or adultery, or who speaks lies, to him thus acting there is no guilt. If with a discus with an edge sharp as {} a razor he should make all the living creatures on the earth one heap, one mass, of flesh, there would be no guilt thence resulting, no increase of guilt would ensue. Were he to go along the south bank of the Ganges striking and slaying, mutilating and having men mutilated, oppressing and having men oppressed, there would be no guilt thence resulting, no increase of guilt would ensue. Were he to go along the north bank of the Ganges giving alms, and ordering gifts to be given, offering sacrifices or causing them to be offered, there would be no merit thence resulting, no increase of merit. In generosity, in self-mastery, in control of the senses, in speaking truth there is neither merit, nor increase of merit." Thus, Lord, did Pûrana Kassapa, when asked what was the immediate advantage in the life of a recluse, expound his theory of non-action{1}. Just, Lord, as if a man, when asked what a mango was, should explain what a bread fruit is, just so did Pûrana Kassapa, when asked what was the fruit, in this present state of being, of the life of a recluse, expound his theory of non-action. Then, Lord, it occurred to me: "How should such a one as I think of giving dissatisfaction to any recluse or Brahman in my realm?" So I neither applauded nor blamed what he said, and though dissatisfied I gave utterance to no expression of dissatisfaction, and neither accepting nor rejecting that answer of his, I arose from my seat, and departed thence.
['In the same manner I went to five other teachers, and receiving to this same question put an answer not to the point, I behaved in each case as just set forth. And the answers of the five were thus:]{2}

{}
'When one day I had thus asked Makkhali of the cow-pen{1}, he said: "There is, O king, no cause, either ultimate or remote, for the depravity of beings; they become depraved without reason and without cause. There is no cause, either proximate or remote, for the rectitude of beings; they become pure without reason and without cause. The attainment of any given condition, of any character, does not depend either on one's own acts, or on the acts of another, or on human effort. There is no such thing as power or energy, or human strength or human vigour. All animals, all creatures (with one, two, or more senses), all beings (produced from eggs or in a womb), all souls (in plants){2} are without force and power and energy of their own. They are bent this way and that by their fate, by the necessary conditions of the class to which they belong, by their individual nature: and it is according to their position in one or other of the six classes that they experience ease or pain.

{}

'"There are fourteen hundred thousands of the principal sorts of birth, and again six thousand others, and again six hundred. There are five hundred sorts of Karma, and again five (according to the five senses), and again three (according to act, word, and thought); and there is a whole Karma and a half Karma (the whole being a Karma of act or word, the half a Karma of thought).

'"There are sixty-two paths (or modes of conduct), sixty-two periods, six classes (or distinctions among men){1}, eight stages of a prophet's existence{2}, forty-nine hundred sorts of occupation{3}, forty-nine hundred sorts of wandering mendicants, forty-nine hundred regions dwelt in by Nâgas, two thousand faculties, three thousand purgatories, thirty-six places where dust accumulates, seven sorts of animate and seven of inanimate production, and seven of production by grafting, seven sorts of gods, and of men, and of devils, and of great lakes, and seven principal and again seven hundred minor sorts of Pakutas{4} of precipices, and of dreams.
'"There are eighty-four hundred thousand periods during which both fools and wise alike, wandering in transmigration, shall at last make an end of pain. Though the wise should hope: 'By this virtue or this performance of duty, or this penance, or this righteousness will I make the Karma (I have inherited), that is not yet mature, mature'—though the fool should hope, by the same means, to get gradually rid of Karma that has matured—neither of them can do it. The ease and pain, measured out, as it were, with a measure, cannot be altered in the course of transmigration; there {} can be neither increase nor decrease thereof, neither excess nor deficiency. Just as when a ball of string is cast forth it will spread out just as far, and no farther, than it can unwind, just so both fools and wise alike, wandering in transmigration exactly for the allotted term, shall then, and only then, make an end of pain."

'Thus, Lord, did Makkhali of the cow-pen, when asked what was the immediate advantage in the life of a recluse, expound his theory of purification through transmigration.

'When, one day, I had thus asked Agita of the garment of hair, he said{1}: "There is no such thing, O king, as alms or sacrifice or offering. There is neither fruit nor result of good or evil deeds. There is no such thing as this world or the next. There is neither father nor mother, nor beings springing into life without them. There are in the world no recluses or Brahmans who have reached the highest point{2}, who walk perfectly, and who having understood and realised, by themselves alone, both this world and the next, make their wisdom known to others.
'"A human being is built up of the four elements. When he dies the earthy in him returns and relapses to the earth, the fluid to the water, the heat to the fire, the windy to the air, and his faculties{3} pass into space. The four bearers, on the bier as a fifth, take his dead body away; till they reach the burning-ground men utter forth eulogies, but there his bones are bleached, {} and his offerings{1} end in ashes. It is a doctrine of fools, this talk of gifts. It is an empty lie, mere idle talk, when men say there is profit therein. Fools and wise alike, on the dissolution of the body, are cut off, annihilated, and after death they are not."

'Thus, Lord, did Agita of the garment of hair, when asked what was the immediate advantage in the life of a recluse, expound his theory of annihilation.

'When, one day, I had thus asked Pakudha Kakkâyana, he said: "The following seven things, O king, are neither made nor commanded to be made, neither created nor caused to be created, they are barren (so that nothing is produced out of them), stedfast as a mountain peak, as a pillar firmly fixed. They move not, neither do they vary, they trench not one upon another, nor avail aught as to ease or pain or both. And what are the seven? The four elements—earth, water, fire, and air-and ease, and pain, and the soul as a seventh. So there is neither slayer nor causer of slaying, hearer or speaker, knower or explainer. When one with a sharp sword cleaves a head in twain, no one thereby deprives any one of life, a sword has only penetrated into the interval between seven elementary substances."

'Thus, Lord, did Pakudha Kakkâyana, when asked what was the immediate advantage in the life of a recluse, expound the matter by expounding something else.
'When, one day, I had thus asked the Nigantha of the Nâta clan, he said: "A Nigantha, O king (a man free from bonds}, is restrained with a fourfold self-restraint. He lives restrained as regards all water; restrained as regards all evil; all evil has he washed away; and he lives suffused with the sense of evil held at bay. Such is his fourfold self-restraint. And since he is thus tied with this fourfold {} bond, therefore is he, the Nigantho (free from bonds), called Gatatto (whose heart has gone; that is, to the summit, to the attainment, of his aim) Yatatto (whose heart is kept down; that is, is under command), and Thitatto (whose heart is fixed){1}."

'Thus, Lord, did the Nigantha of the Nâta clan, when asked what was the immediate advantage in the life of a recluse, expound his theory of the fourfold bond.

'When, one day, I had thus asked Sañgaya of the Belattha clan, he said: "If you ask me whether there is another world—well, if I thought there were, I would say so. But I don't say so. And I don't think it is thus or thus. And I don't think it is otherwise. And I don't deny it. And I don't say there neither is, nor is not, another world. And if you ask me about the beings produced by chance; or whether there is any fruit, any result, of good or bad actions; or whether a man who has won the truth continues, or not, after death—to each or any of these questions do I give the same reply{2}."
'Thus, Lord, did Sañgaya of the Belattha clan, when asked what was the immediate advantage in the life of a recluse, show his manner of prevarication. And to hint, as to all the others, I expressed neither approval nor dissatisfaction, but neither accepting nor {} rejecting what was said, I arose from my seat, and departed thence{1}.

34, 'And now, Lord, I put the same question to the Blessed One. Can you show me any immediate fruit, in this world, of the life of a recluse, such as those who follow each of the occupations I have mentioned are, each of them, able tO show?'

'I can, O king. And to that end I would fain put a question to you. Answer it as you may think most fit.
'Now what do you think, O king. Suppose among the people of your household there were a slave who does work for you, rises up in the morning before you do and retires later to rest, who is keen to carry out your pleasure, anxious to make himself agreeable in what. he does and says, a man who watches your every look. Suppose he should think, "Strange is it and wonderful, this issue of meritorious deeds, this result of merit! Here is this king of Magadha, Agâtasattu, the son of the Videha princess—he is a man, and so am I. But the king lives in the full enjoyment and possession of the five pleasures of sense—a very god, methinks—and here am I a slave, working for him, rising before him and retiring later to rest, keen to carry out his pleasure, anxious to make myself agreeable in deed and word, watching his very looks. Would that I were like him, that I too might earn merit. Why should not I have my hair and beard shaved off, {} and don the yellow robes, and going forth from the household state, renounce the world?" And suppose, after a time, he should do so. And having been admitted into an Order, should dwell restrained in act and word and thought, content with mere food and shelter, delighting in solitude. And suppose your people should tell you of this, saying: "If it please your majesty, do you know that such a one, formerly your slave, who worked for you, and so on (all as before) has now donned the yellow robes, and has been admitted into an Order, and dwells restrained, content with mere food and shelter, delighting in solitude?" Would you then say: "Let the man come back; let him become a slave again, and work for me"?'

'Nay, Lord, rather should we greet him with reverence , and rise up from our seat out of deference towards him, and press him to be seated. And we should have robes and a bowl, and a lodging place, and medicine for the sick—all the requisites of a recluse—made ready, and beg him to accept of them. And we should order watch and ward and guard to be kept for him according to the law.'

'But what do you think, O king. That being so, is there, or is there not, some fruit, visible in this world, of the life of a recluse?'

'Certainly, Lord, that is so.'

'This then, O king, is the first kind of the fruit, visible in this world, which I maintained to arise from the life of a recluse.'
'Can you, Lord, show me any other fruit, visible in this world, of the life of a recluse?'

'I can, O king. And to that end I would fain put a question, &c. [as before, to the end of § 36, the case now put being that of a free man who cultivates his land, a householder, who pays taxes and thus increases the king's wealth, but gives up his little property and his position in his clan, and enters an Order.]' 'Can you, Lord, show me any other fruit, visible in this world, of the life of a reclase, a fruit higher and sweeter than these?'

{}

'I can, O king. Give ear therefore, O king, and give good heed, and I will speak.
'Suppose, O king, there appears in the world one who has won the truth, an Arahat, a fully awakened one, abounding in wisdom and goodness; happy, who knows all worlds, unsurpassed as a guide to mortals willing to be led, a teacher for gods and men, a Blessed One, a Buddha. He, by himself, thoroughly knows and sees, as it were, face to face this universe,—including the worlds above of the gods, the Brahmas, and the Maras, and the world below with its recluses and Brahmans, its princes and peoples,—and having known it, he makes his knowledge known to others. The truth, lovely in its origin, lovely in its progress, lovely in its consummation, doth he proclaim, both in the spirit and in the letter, the higher life doth he make known, in all its fullness and in all its purity{1}.

'A householder{2} or one of his children, or a man of inferior birth in any class listens to that truth; and on hearing it he has faith in the Tathâgata (the one who has found the truth); and when he is possessed of that faith, he considers thus within himself:

'"Full of hindrances is household life, a path for the dust of passion. Free as the air is the life of him who has renounced all worldly things. How difficult is it for the man who dwells at home to live the higher life in all its fullness, in all its purity, in all its bright perfection! Let me then cut off my hair and beard, let me clothe myself in the orange-coloured robes, and let me go forth from the household life into the homeless state."
'Then, before long, forsaking his portion of wealth, be it great or small, forsaking his circle of relatives, be they many or be they few, he cuts off his hair and beard, he clothes himself in the orange-coloured robes, {} and he goes forth from the household life into the homeless state.
'When he has thus become a recluse he lives self-restrained by that restraint that should be binding on a recluse{1}. Uprightness is his delight, and he sees danger in the least of those things he should avoid. He adopts, and trains himself in, the precepts. He encompasses himself with good deeds in act and word. Pure are his means of livelihood, good is his conduct, guarded the door of his senses. Mindful and self-possessed he is altogether happy.
'And how, O king, is his conduct good?

'In this, O king, that the Bhikshu, putting away the killing of living things, holds aloof from the destruction of life. The cudgel and the sword he has laid aside, and ashamed of roughness, and full of mercy, he dwells compassionate and kind to all creatures that have life.

'This is part of the goodness that he has.

[Here follow the whole of the Sîlas (the paragraphs on minor morality), in the words already translated above in the Brahma-gâla Sutta, §§ 8 to 27. Only for 'Gotama the recluse' one should read 'the Bhikshu'; and alter in each case the words of the refrain accordingly.]
'And then that Bhikshu, O king, being thus master of the minor moralities, sees no danger from any side; that is, so far as concerns his self-restraint in conduct. Just, O king, as a sovereign, duly crowned, whose enemies have been beaten down, sees no danger from any side; that is, so far as enemies are concerned, so is the Bhikshu confident. And endowed with this body of morals, so worthy of honour, he experiences, within himself, a sense of ease without alloy. Thus is it, O king, that the Bhikshu becomes righteous.
'And how. O king, is the Bhikshu guarded as to the doors of his senses{2}?'

{}

'When, O king, he sees an object with his eye he is not entranced in the general appearance or the details of it{1}. He sets himself to restrain that which might give occasion for evil states, covetousness and dejection, to flow in over him so long as he dwells unrestrained as to his sense of sight. He keeps watch upon his faculty of sight, and he attains to mastery over it. And so, in like manner, when he hears a sound with his ear, or smells an odour with his nose, or tastes a flavour with his tongue, or feels a touch with his body, or when he cognises a phenomenon with his mind he is not entranced in the general appearance or the details of it. He sets himself to restrain that which might give occasion for evil states, covetousness and dejection, to flow in over him so long as he dwells unrestrained as to his mental (representative) faculty. He keeps watch upon his representative faculty, and he attains to mastery over it. And endowed with this self-restraint, so worthy of honour, as regards the senses, he experiences, within himself, a sense of ease into which no evil state can enter{2}. Thus is it, O king, that the Bhikshu becomes guarded as to the doors of his senses.
'And how, O king, is the Bhikshu mindful and self-possessed?'
'In this matter, O king. the Bhikshu in going forth or in coming back keeps clearly before his mind's eye (all that is wrapt up therein—the immediate object of {} the act itself, its ethical significance, whether or not it is conducive to the high aim set before him, and the real facts underlying the mere phenomenon of the outward act). And so also in looking forward, or in looking round; in stretching forth his arm, or in drawing it in again; in eating or drinking, in masticating or swallowing, in obeying the calls of nature, in going or standing or sitting, in sleeping or waking, in speaking or in being still, he keeps himself aware of all it really means{1}. Thus is it, O king, that the Bhikshu becomes mindful and self-possessed.
'And how, O king, is the Bhikshu content?

'In this matter, O king, the Bhikshu is satisfied with sufficient robes to cherish his body, with sufficient food to keep his stomach going. Whithersoever he may go forth, these he takes with him as he goes—just as a bird with his wings, O king, whithersoever he may fly, carries his wings with him as he flies. Thus is it, 'O king, that the Bhikshu becomes content{2}.

{}
'Then, master of this so excellent body of moral precepts, gifted with this so excellent self-restraint as to the senses, endowed with this so excellent mindfulness and self-possession, filled with this so excellent content, he chooses some lonely spot to rest at on his way—in the woods, at the foot of a tree, on a hill side, in a mountain glen, in a rocky cave, in a charnel place, or on a heap of straw in the open field. And returning thither after his round for alms he seats himself, when his meal is done, cross-legged, keeping his body erect, and his intelligence alert, intent.

'Putting away the hankering after the world{1}, he remains with a heart that hankers not, and purifies his mind of lusts. Putting away the corruption of the wish to injure, he remains with a heart free from ill-temper, and purifies his mind of malevolence. Putting away torpor of heart and mind{2}, keeping his ideas alight{3}, mindful and self-possessed, he purifies his mind of weakness and of sloth. Putting away flurry and worry, he remains free from fretfulness, and with heart serene within, he purifies himself of irritability and vexation of spirit. Putting away wavering, he remains as one passed beyond perplexity; and no longer in suspense as to what is good, he purifies his mind of doubt.
'Then just, O king, as when a man, after contracting a loan{4}, should set a business on foot, and his {} business should succeed, and he should not only be able to pay off the old debt he had incurred, but there should be a surplus over to maintain a wife. Then would he realise : "I used to have to carry on my business by getting into debt, but it has gone so well with me that I have paid off what I owed, and have a surplus over to maintain a wife." And he would be of good cheer at that, would be glad of heart at that:— 'Then just, O king, as if a man were a prey to disease, in pain, and very ill, and his food would not digest, and there were no strength left in him; and after a time he were to recover from that disease, and his food should digest, and his strength come back to him; then, when he realised his former and his present state, he would be of good cheer at that, he would be glad of heart at that:— 'Then just, O king, as if a man were bound in a prison house, and after a time he should be set free from his bonds, safe and sound, and without any confiscation of his goods; when he realised his former and his present state, he would be of good cheer at that, he would be glad of heart at that:— 'Then just, O king, as if a man were a slave, not his own master, subject to another, unable to go whither he would; and after a time he should be emancipated from that slavery, become his own master, not subject to others, a free man, free to go whither he would; then, on realising his former and his present state, he would be of good cheer at that, he would be glad of heart at that:— 'Then just, O king, as if a man, rich and prosperous, were to find himself on a long road, in a desert, where no food was, but much danger; and after a time were to find himself out of the desert, arrived safe; on the borders of his village, in security and peace; then, on realising his former and his present state, he would be of good cheer at that, he would be glad of heart at that:— 'Just so, O king, the Bhikshu, so long as these {} five Hindrances are not put away within him looks upon himself as in debt, diseased, in prison, in slavery, lost on a desert road. But when these five Hindrances have been put away within him, he looks upon himself as freed from debt, rid of disease, out of jail, a free man, and secure; 'And gladness springs up within him on his realising that, and joy arises to him thus gladdened, and so rejoicing all his frame becomes at ease, and being thus at ease he is filled with a sense of peace, and in that peace his heart is stayed{1}.

75 A. 'Then estranged from lusts, aloof from evil dispositions, he enters into and remains in the First Rapture—a state of joy and ease born of detachment{2}, reasoning and investigation going on the while.

'His very body does he so pervade, drench, permeate, and suffuse with the joy and ease born of detachment, that there is no spot in his whole frame not suffused therewith.

'Just, O king, as a skilful bathman or his apprentice will scatter perfumed soap powder in a metal basin, and then besprinkling it with water, drop by drop, will so knead it together that the ball of lather, taking up the unctuous moisture, is drenched with it, pervaded by it, permeated by it within and without, and there is no leakage possible.

{}

'This, O king, is an immediate fruit of the life of a recluse, visible in this world, higher and sweeter than the last.

'Then further, O king, the Bhikshu suppressing all reasoning and investigation enters into and abides in the Second Ghâna, a state of joy and ease, born of the serenity of concentration, when no reasoning or investigation goes on,—a state of elevation{1} of mind, a tranquillisation of the heart within.

'And his very body does he so pervade, drench, permeate, and suffuse with the joy and ease born of concentration, that there is no spot in his whole frame not suffused therewith.

'Just, O king, as if there were a deep pool, with water welling up into it from a spring beneath, and with no inlet from the east or west, from the north or south, and the god should not from time to time send down showers of rain upon it. Still the current of cool waters rising up from that spring would pervade, fill, permeate, and suffuse the pool with cool waters; and there would be no part or portion of the pool unsuffused therewith.

'This, O king, is an immediate fruit of the life of a recluse, visible in this world, and higher and sweeter than the last.

'Then further, O king, the Bhikshu, holding aloof from joy, becomes equable{2}; and mindful and self-possessed he experiences in his body that ease which the Arahats talk of when they say: "The man serene and self-possessed is well at ease," and so he enters into and abides in the Third Ghâna.
'And his very body does he so pervade, drench, {} permeate, and suffuse with that ease that has no joy with it, that there is no spot in his whole frame not suffused therewith. "Just, O king, as when in a lotus tank the several lotus flowers, red or white or blue, born in the water, grown up in the water, not rising up above the surface of the water, drawing up nourishment from the depths of the water, are so pervaded, drenched, permeated, and suffused from their very tips down to their roots with the cool moisture thereof, that there is no spot in the whole plant, whether of the red lotus, or of the white, or of the blue, not suffused therewith.

'This, O king, is an immediate fruit of the life of a recluse, visible in this world, and higher and sweeter than the last.

'Then further, O king, the Bhikshu, by the putting away alike of ease and of pain, by the passing away alike of any elation, any dejection, he had previously felt, enters into and abides in the Fourth Ghâna, a state of pure self-possession and equanimity. without pain and without ease.

'And he sits there so suffusing even his body with that sense of purification, of translucence, of heart, that there is no spot in his whole frame not suffused therewith.

'Just, O king, as if a man were sitting so wrapt from head to foot in a clean white robe, that there were no spot in his whole frame not in contact with the clean white robe—just so, O king, does the Bhikshu sit there, so suffusing even his body with that sense of purification, of translucence, of heart, that there is no spot in his whole frame not suffused therewith.

'This, O king, is an immediate fruit of the life of a recluse, and higher and sweeter than the last.
'With his heart thus serene, made pure, translucent, cultured, devoid of evil, supple, ready to act, firm, and imperturbable, he applies and bends down his mind to that insight that comes from knowledge. He grasps the fact: "This body of mine has form, it is built up of the four elements, it springs from father {} and mother, it is continually renewed by so much boiled rice and juicy foods, its very nature is impermanence, it is subject to erasion, abrasion, dissolution, and disintegration{1}; and therein is this consciousness{2} of mine, too, bound up, on that does it depend."

'Just, O king, as if there were a Veluriya gem, bright, of the purest water, with eight facets, excellently cut, clear, translucent, without a flaw, excellent in every way. And through it a string, blue, or orange-coloured, or red, or white, or yellow should be threaded. If a man, who had eyes to see, were to take it into his hand, he would clearly perceive how the one is bound up with the other{3}.

'This, O king, is an immediate fruit of the life of a recluse, visible in this world, and higher and sweeter than the last.
'With his heart thus serene, made pure, translucent, cultured, devoid of evil, supple, ready to act, firm, and imperturbable, he applies and bends down his mind to the calling up of a mental image. He calls up from this body another body, having form; {} made of mind, having all (his own body's) limbs and parts, not deprived of any organ{1}.
'Just, O king, as if a man were to pull out a reed from its sheath. He would know: "This is the reed, this the sheath. The reed is one thing, the sheath another. It is from the sheath that the reed has been drawn forth{2}." And similarly were he to take a snake out of its slough, or draw a sword from its scabbard{3}.

'This, O king, is an immediate fruit of the life of a recluse, visible in this life, and higher and sweeter than the last.
'With his heart thus serene, made pure, translucent, cultured, devoid of evil, supple, ready to act, firm and imperturbable, he applies and bends down his mind to the modes of the Wondrous Gift{4}. He enjoys the Wondrous Gift in its various modes—being one he becomes many, or having become many becomes one again; he becomes visible or invisible; he goes, feeling no obstruction, to the further side of a wall or rampart or hill, as if through air; he penetrates up and down through solid ground, as if through water; he walks on water without breaking {} through as if on solid ground; he travels cross-legged in the sky, like the birds on wing; even the Moon and the Sun, so potent, so mighty though they be, does he touch and feel with his hand; he reaches in the body even up to the heaven of Brahmâ.

'Just, O king, as a clever potter or his apprentice could make, could succeed in getting out of properly prepared clay any shape of vessel he wanted to have—or an ivory carver out of ivory, or a goldsmith out of gold.

'This, O king, is an immediate fruit of the life of a recluse, and higher and sweeter than the last.

'With his heart thus serene, made pure, translucent, cultured, devoid of evil, supple, ready to act, firm and imperturbable, he applies and bends down his mind to the Heavenly Ear. With that clear Heavenly Ear surpassing the ear of men he hears sounds both human and celestial, whether far or near.

'Just, O king, as if a man were on the high road and were to hear the sound of a kettledrum or a tabor or the sound of chank horns and small drums he would know: "This is the sound of a kettledrum, this is the sound of a tabor, this of chank horns and of drums{1}."

'This, O king, is an immediate fruit of the life of a recluse, visible in this life, and higher and sweeter than the last.

'With his heart thus serene (&c. as before), he directs and bends down his mind to the knowledge which penetrates the heart. Penetrating with his own heart the hearts of other beings, of other men, he knows them. He discerns—
The passionate mind to be passionate, and the calm mind calm; The angry mind to be angry, and the peaceful mind peaceful; The dull mind to be dull, and the alert mind alert; {}
The attentive mind to be attentive, and the wandering mind wandering; The broad mind to be broad, and the narrow mind narrow; The mean mind to be mean, and the lofty mind lofty{1}; The stedfast mind to be stedfast; and the wavering mind to be wavering; The free mind to be free, and the enslaved mind enslaved.
'Just, O king, as a woman or a man or a lad, young and smart, on considering attentively the image of his own face in a bright and brilliant mirror or in a vessel of clear water would, if it had a mole on it, know that it had, and if not, would know it had not.

'This, O king, is an immediate fruit of the life of a recluse, visible in this world, and higher and sweeter than the last.
'With his heart thus serene (&c. as before), he directs and bends down his mind to the knowledge of the memory of his previous temporary states. He recalls to mind his various temporary states in days gone by—one birth, or two or three or four or five births, or ten or twenty or thirty or forty or fifty or a hundred or a thousand or a hundred thousand births, through many an aeon of dissolution, many an aeon of evolution, many an aeon of both dissolution and evolution{2}. "In such a place such was my name, such my family, such my caste{3}, such my food, such my experience of discomfort or of ease, and such the limits of my life. When I passed away from that state, I took form again in such a place. There I had {} such and such a name and family and caste and food and experience of discomfort or of ease, such was the limit of my life. When I passed away from that state I took form again here"—thus does he call to mind his temporary state in days gone by in all their details, and in all their modes.

'Just, O king, as if a man were to go from his own to another village, and from that one to another, and from that one should return home. Then he would know: "From my own village I came to that other one. There I stood in such and such a way, sat thus, spake thus, and held my peace thus. Thence I came to that other village; and there I stood in such and such a way, sat thus, spake thus, and held my peace thus. And now, from that other village, I have returned back again home{1}."

'This, O king, is an immediate fruit of the life of a recluse. Visible in this world, and higher and sweeter than the last.
'With his heart thus serene (&c. as before), he directs and bends down his mind to the knowledge of the fall and rise of beings. With the pure Heavenly Eye{2}, surpassing that of men, he sees beings as they pass away from one form of existence and take shape in another; he recognises the mean and the noble, the well favoured and the ill favoured, the happy and the wretched, passing away according to their deeds: "Such and such beings, brethren, evil in act and word and thought, revilers of the noble ones, holding to wrong views, acquiring for themselves that Karma which results from wrong views, they, on the dissolution of the body, after death, are reborn in some unhappy state of suffering or woe. But such and such beings, my brethren, well doers in act and word and thought, not revilers of the noble ones, holding to right views, {} acquiring for themselves that Karma that results from right views, they, on the dissolution of the body, after death, are reborn in some happy state in heaven." Thus with the pure Heavenly Eye, surpassing that of men, he sees beings as they pass away from one state of existence, and take form in another; he recognises the mean and the noble, the well favoured and the ill favoured, the happy and the wretched, passing away according to their deeds{1}.

'Just, O king, as if there were a house with an upper terrace on it in the midst of a place where four roads meet, and a man standing thereon, and with eyes to see, should watch men entering a house, and coming forth out of it, and walking hither and thither along the street{2}, and seated in the square in the midst. Then he would know: "Those men are entering a house, and those are leaving it, and those are walking to and fro in the street, and those are seated in the square in the midst."

'This, O king, is an immediate fruit of the life of a recluse, visible in this world, and higher and sweeter than the last.
'With his heart thus serene (&c. as before), he directs and bends down his mind to the knowledge of the destruction of the Deadly Floods{3}. He knows {} as it really is: "This is pain." He knows as it really is: "This is the origin of pain." He knows as it really is: "This is the cessation of pain." He knows as it really is: "This is the Path that leads to the cessation of pain." He knows as they really are: "These are the Deadly Floods." He knows as it really is: "This is the origin of the Deadly Floods." He knows as it really is: "This is the cessation of the Deadly Floods." He knows as it really is: "This is the Path that leads to the cessation of the Deadly Floods." To him, thus knowing, thus seeing, the heart is set free from the Deadly Taint of Lusts{1}, is set free from the Deadly Taint of Becomings{2}, is set free from the Deadly Taint of Ignorance{3}. In him, thus set free, there arises the knowledge of his emancipation, and he knows: "Rebirth has been destroyed. The higher life has been fulfilled. What had to be done has been accomplished. After this present life there will be no beyond!"
'Just, O king, as if in a mountain fastness there were a pool of water, clear, translucent, and serene; and a man, standing on the bank, and with eyes to see, should perceive the oysters and the shells, the gravel and the pebbles and the shoals of fish, as they move about or lie within it: he would know: "This {} pool is clear, transparent, and serene, and there within it are the oysters and the shells, and the sand and gravel, and the shoals of fish are moving about or lying still{1}."

'This, O king, is an immediate fruit of the life of a recluse, visible in this world, and higher and sweeter than the last. And there is no fruit of the life of a recluse, visible in this world, that is higher and sweeter than this{2}.'

And when he had thus spoken, Agâtasattu the king said to the Blessed One: 'Most excellent, Lord, most excellent! Just as if a man were to set up that which has been thrown down, or were to reveal that which is hidden away, or were to point out the right road to him who has gone astray, or were to bring a lamp into the darkness so that those who have eyes could see external forms—just even so, Lord, has the truth been made known to me, in many a figure, by the Blessed One. And now I betake myself, Lord, to the Blessed One as my refuge, to the Truth, and to the Order. May the Blessed One accept me as a disciple, as one who, from this day forth, as long as life endures, has taken his refuge in them. Sin has overcome me, Lord, weak and foolish and wrong that I am, in that, for the sake of sovranty, I put to death my father, that righteous man, that righteous king! May the Blessed One accept it of me, Lord, that do so acknowledge it as a sin, to the end that in future I may restrain myself.'
'Verily, O king, it was sin that overcame you in acting thus. But inasmuch as you look upon it as sin, and confess it according to what is right, we accept your confession as to that. For that, O king, is custom in the discipline of the noble ones{3}, that whosoever {} looks upon his fault as a fault, and rightfully confesses it, shall attain to self-restraint in future.'

When he had thus spoken, Agâtasattu the king said to the Blessed One: 'Now, Lord, we would fain go. We are busy, and there is much to do.'

'Do, O king. whatever seemeth to thee fit.'

Then Agâtasattu the king, pleased and delighted with the words of the Blessed One, arose from his seat, and bowed to the Blessed One, and keeping him on the right hand as he passed him, departed thence.

Now the Blessed One, not long after Agâtasattu the king had gone, addressed the brethren, and said: 'This king. brethren, was deeply affected, he was touched in heart. If, brethren, the king had not put his father to death, that righteous man, and righteous king, then would the clear and spotless eye for the truth have arisen in him, even as he sat there{1}.'

Thus spake the Blessed One. The brethren were pleased and delighted at his words.

Here ends the Discourse on the Fruits of the Life of a Recluse.

Sâmañña-phala Sutta is ended.

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INTRODUCTION

AMBATTHA SUTTA.

THIS is one of several Suttas (mentioned in the notes to the celebrated verse quoted at the end of Chapter I) which deal with the subject of caste.

It is sufficiently evident from the comparative frequency of the discussions on the matter of Brahman pretensions that this was a burning question at the time when the Dialogues were composed. No other social problem is referred to so often; and Brahmans would not be so often represented as expressing astonishment or indignation at the position taken up regarding it by the early Buddhists unless there had really been a serious difference on the subject between the two schools. But the difference, though real, has been gravely misunderstood.

Some writers on Buddhism do not hesitate to ascribe to Gotama the rôle of a successful political reformer, by representing him as having fought for the poor and despised against the rich and privileged classes, and as having gone far to abolish caste. Other writers gird at the Buddha because most of the leaders of this Order were drawn from the ranks of the respectable and the well-to-do, with an education in keeping with their social position; and disparage him for neglecting the humble and the wretched, for not using his influence to abolish, or to mitigate, the harshness of caste rules.

Both views are equally unhistorical. It is well known that the population of India is now divided into a number of sections (we call them 'castes'), the members of which are debarred from the right of intermarriage (from the connubium) with those outside their caste, and also, but in constantly varying degrees, from the right of eating together (of commensality) with the members of other sections. Each such 'caste' has also a councilor committee by which it is governed, and which settles all disputes regarding the caste.
The disastrous effects, from the ethical, social, and political points of view, of these restrictions, and of caste as a whole, have been often grossly exaggerated, and the benefits of the {} system ignored. And we are entirely unwarranted in supposing the system, as it now exists, to have been in existence also at the time when Buddhism arose in the valley of the Ganges. Our knowledge of the actual facts of caste, even as it now exists, is still confused and inaccurate. The theories put forward to explain the facts are loose and irreconcilable. And an accurate statement of the corresponding facts, if any, at the time of Gotama, has yet to be drawn up.

We have long known that the connubium was the cause of a long and determined struggle between the patricians and the plebeians in Rome. Evidence has been yearly accumulating on the existence of restrictions as to intermarriage, and as to the right of eating together, among other Aryan tribes—Greeks, Germans, Russians, and so on. Even without the fact of the existence, now, of such restrictions among the modern successors of the ancient Aryans in India, it would have been almost certain that they also were addicted to similar customs. It is certain that the notion of such usages was familiar enough to some at least of the tribes that preceded the Aryans in India. It is quite a mistake to look upon all these tribes as far below the Aryans in culture. Both the Kolarians and the Dravidians were probably quite the equals of the Aryans in social organisation. And the Aryans probably adopted much from them, especially in matters relating to land tenure, village community, government, taxation, and so on. Their custom of endogamy and exogamy, their ideas as to purity and the reverse, may have differed from those of the Aryans, but were similar in kind. Rules of endogamy and exogamy; privileges, restricted to certain classes, of eating together, are not only Indian or Aryan, but world-wide phenomena. Both the spirit, and to a large degree the actual details, of modern Indian caste usages, are identical with these ancient, and no doubt universal, customs. It is in them that we have the key to the origin of caste.
At any moment in the history of a nation such customs seem, to a superficial observer, to be fixed and immutable. As a matter of fact they are never quite the same in successive centuries, or even generations. A man's visible frame, though no change is at any moment perceptible, is really never the same for two consecutive moments, and the result of constant minute variations becomes clear after the lapse of time. The numerous and complicated details which we sum up under the convenient (but often misleading) single name of caste are solely dependent for their sanction on public opinion. That opinion seems stable. But it is always tending to vary as to the degree of importance attached to some particular one of {} the details, as to the size and complexity of the particular groups in which each detail ought to be observed.

This last statement may be illustrated by the case of the Chaliyas. When the Dutch started cinnamon cultivation in Ceylon on a large scale, they wanted labourers. The peasantry, who belonged almost exclusively to one caste, the Goigamas, regarded it as unworthy of a free man to work for hire. Some of them, however, in the struggle of motives, found the pressure of poverty too strong for them, and accepted service as coolies. The others, thinking this bad form, became averse to giving their daughters in marriage to such coolies. These feelings were naturally stronger at first among the Goigamas of good social position, and it became a mark of superiority not to have a relative married to a worker in the cinnamon gardens. And such workers were called Chaliyas. By the time that the families of Chaliyas were numerous enough to afford mates for the male or female coolies, the Chaliyas found it impossible to find wives elsewhere. And thus, under the very eyes of Europeans, the size of one group had been diminished by the very considerable number of persons engaged in a new and despised trade; In other words, what we call a new caste had arisen, the caste of the Chaliyas. When the English took Ceylon they gave up the government cultivation of cinnamon. The gardens were carried on, in ever lessening numbers, by private individuals. The number of the Chaliyas consequently declined. Numbers of them, as they gradually returned to ordinary peasant work, became reabsorbed among the Goigammas. This was an instance of a change precisely contrary to that which happened when the caste gradually arose. But all did not succeed in returning; and there are, therefore, still some Chaliyas left. And the caste survives though the members of it are now no longer exclusively, or even largely, employed in cinnamon gardens; and many of them have become wealthy and honoured.

What had happened in this case was, not two separate and striking revolutions, but a long series of slight changes in public opinion, no doubt quite imperceptible at the time to the very people among whom the changes were taking place. And after all the changes were not so very slow. Three or four generations were enough to cover the whole series with the consequent results. Who can doubt but that the history of ancient India, if we had only access to the necessary evidence, would be found to cover, in its two thousand five hundred years, and through its wide territory, a constant succession of similar variations; and that similar variations are recurring still to-day.

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Owing to the fact that the particular set of people who worked their way to the top based its claims on religious grounds, not on political power or wealth, the system has, no doubt, lasted longer in India than in Europe. But public opinion still insists in considerable circles, even in Europe, on restrictions of a more or less defined kind, both as to marriage and as to eating together. And in India the problem still remains to trace in the literature the gradual growth of the system—the gradual formation of new sections among the people, the gradual extension of the institution to the families of people engaged in certain trades, belonging to the same sect or tribe, tracing their ancestry (whether rightly or wrongly) to the same source, All these factors, and others besides, are real factors. But they are phases of the extension and growth, not explanations of the origin, of the system.
There is no evidence to show that at the time when the conversations recorded in the Dialogues took place (that is to say, in the sixth century B.C.) there was any substantial difference, as regards the barriers in question, between the peoples dwelling in the valley of the Ganges and their contemporaries dwelling on the shores of the Mediterranean. The point of greatest weight in the establishment of the great difference in the subsequent development—the supremacy, in India, of the priests—was still being hotly debated. And all our evidence tends to show that at least in the wide extent of territory covered by the Pitakas—countries close upon a hundred thousand square miles in area—the struggle was being decided rather against the Brahmans than for them. There were distinctions as to marriage; endogamous and exogamous groups. In a few instances, all among the lower classes of the people, these amounted, probably, to what would now be called caste-divisions. But of castes, in the modern sense, among the preponderating majority there is little or no conclusive evidence, There was a common phrase current among the people, which divided all the world into four vannâ (colours or complexions)—the nobles, the priests, the other Aryan people, and the non-Aryan Sûdras (Khattiyâ, Brâhmanâ, Vessâ, and Suddâ). The priests put themselves first, and had a theological legend in support of their contention. But it is clear from the Pitakas that this was not admitted by the nobles, And it is also clear that no one of these divisions was a caste. There was neither connubium nor commensality between all the members of one vannâ, nor was there a governing council for each. The fourth was distinguished from the others by race, The remaining three were distinguished from each other by {} social position. And though in a general rough way the classification corresponded to the actual facts of life, there were insensible gradations within the four classes, and the boundary between them was both variable and undefined.

And this enumeration of the populace was not complete. Outside these classes there were others, resembling in many points the modern low castes, and always when mentioned in the Pitakas following after the above four. Thus in Anguttara I, 162{1}, the argument is that just as there is no real difference in oxen, in spite of the fact that they can be arranged in classes by difference of colour (vanna), and the strong, active, well-trained ox is selected by preference, without regard to his colour (vanna); so also, when presenting gifts, the man of strong, active, well-trained mind should be selected as donee—without reference to the fact of his belonging to any one of the four classes of society (vannâ), or of his being a Kandâla or a Pukkusa. It is plain that this passage distinguishes the last two from the four vannâ and therefore from the Sûdras.

Other old texts{2} insert between these two three further names—the Venas, the Nesâdas, and the Rathakâras, that is to say, the workers in rushes{3}, bird-catchers, and cart-makers. By these are meant aboriginal tribesmen who were hereditary craftsmen in these three crafts; for they are called hîna-gâtiyo, low tribes. They no doubt formed castes in the modern sense, though we have no information as to their marriage customs. They are represented in the Gâtaka book as living in villages of their own; outside the towns in which ordinary people dwelt, and formed evidently a numerically insignificant portion of the populace.
In the last passage quoted in the previous note there are mentioned, as distinct from these low tribes (the hîna-gâtiyo), certain low occupations (hîna-sippâni)—mat-makers, potters, weavers, leather-workers, and barbers. As they are excluded from the list of those distinguished by birth (gâti), it is implied that there was no hard and fast line, determined by birth, for those who gained their living by these trades. There would be a natural tendency for the son to follow the father's craft{4}; {} centuries afterwards they had become castes, and they were then on the border line. But they were not castes as yet.

Besides the above, who were all freemen, there were also slaves. We only hear of them quite occasionally, as domestic servants, in the houses of the very rich. Individuals had been captured in predatory raids, and reduced to slavery (Gât. IV, 220); or had been deprived of their freedom as a judicial punishment (Gât. I, 200); or had submitted to slavery of their own accord ('Vinaya Texts,' I, 191; Sum. I, 168). Children born to such slaves were also slaves, and the emancipation of slaves is often referred to. But we hear nothing of such later developments of slavery as rendered the Roman latifundia, or the plantations of some Christian slave-owners, scenes of misery and oppression. For the most part the slaves were household servants, and not badly treated, and their numbers seem to have been insignificant{1}.

What we find then, in the Buddha's time, is caste in the making. The great mass of the people were distinguished quite roughly into four classes—social strata—of which the boundary lines were vague and uncertain. At the one end of the scale certain outlying tribes, and certain hereditary crafts of a dirty or despised kind, were already, probably, castes. At the other end of the scale Brahmans by birth (not necessarily sacrificial priests, for they followed all sorts of occupations) were putting forward caste claims that were not yet universally admitted. There were social customs about the details of which we know very little (and dependent probably, more exactly upon the gotta rather than upon the gâti), which raised barriers, not seldom broken through, as to intermarriage of people admittedly belonging to the same vanna, and a fortiori of others. And there was a social code, based on the idea of impurity, which prevented familiar intercourse (such as commensality) between people of different rank; and rendered disgraceful the use of certain foods. We find, however, no usages which cannot be amply paralleled in the history of other peoples throughout the world in similar stages of social evolution. The key-stone of the arch of the peculiarly Indian caste organisation—the absolute supremacy of the Brahmans—had not yet been put in position, had not, in fact, been yet made ready. The caste-system, in any proper or exact use of the term, did not exist.
In the face of this set of circumstances Gotama, took up {} a distinct position. It meets us, it is true, in two phases; but it forms one consistent and logical whole.

In the first place, as regards his own Order, over which alone he had complete control, he ignores completely and absolutely all advantages or disadvantages arising from birth, occupation, and social status, and sweeps away all barriers and disabilities arising from the arbitrary rules of mere ceremonial or social impurity.

One of the most distinguished members of his Order, the very one of them who was referred to as the chief authority, after Gotama himself, on the rules of the Order, was Upâli, who had formerly been a barber, one of the despised occupations. So Sunita, one of the brethren whose verses are chosen for insertion in the Thera Gâthâ, was a Pukkusa, one of the low tribes. Sâti, the propounder of a deadly heresy, was of the sons of the fisherfolk, afterwards a low caste, and even then an occupation, on account of its cruelty, particularly abhorred. Nanda was a cowherd. The two Panthakas were born out of wedlock, to a girl of good family through intercourse with a slave (so that by the rule laid down in Manu 31, they were actually outcasts). Kâpâ was the daughter of a deer-stalker, Punnâ and Punnikâ had been slave girls. Sumangalamâtâ was daughter and wife to workers in rushes, and Subhâ was the daughter of a smith. More instances could doubtless be quoted already, and others will become known when more texts are published.

It does not show much historical insight to sneer at the numbers as small, and to suggest that the supposed enlightenment or liberality was mere pretence. The facts speak for themselves; and the percentage of low-born members of the Order was probably in fair proportion to the percentage of persons belonging to the despised gâtis and sippas as compared with the rest of the population. Thus of the Therîs mentioned in the Therî Gâthâ we know the social position of sixty, of whom five are mentioned above—that is, 8½ per cent. of the whole number were base-born. It is most likely that this is just about the proportion which persons in similar social rank bore to the rest of the population.
Whether the Buddhist Order differed in this respect from the other similar communities which are mentioned in the Buddhist books as having already existed when the Buddhist Order was founded, is still matter of controversy. The Buddhist books are mostly silent on the matter. But that very silence is valuable evidence. It is scarcely likely that if there had been much difference, there should be no allusion to it in the Pitakas. And the few passages in print confirm this. We {} have seen how in the Sâmañña-phala Sutta (above, ) it is taken for granted that a slave could join an Order (that is any order, not the Buddhist). And in the Aggañña Sutta of the Dîgha, and the Madhura Sutta of the Magghima, there is express mention of Sûdras becoming Samanas, as if it were a recognised and common occurrence, long before the time of the rise of Buddhism. So in the Gâtaka (III, 381) we hear of a potter, and at IV, 392 of a Kandala, who become Samanas (not Buddhist Samanas){1}.

On the other hand, it is just possible that in these passages the custom afterwards followed in the Buddhist Order is simply put back to earlier times, and is an anachronism. The low-born, however earnest in their search after truth, were no doubt excluded from any community of hermits or religious recluses in which Brahmans had the upper hand. But all the twice-born (the Dvigas, that is the Khattiyas, Brâhmanas, and Vessas) were certainly justified, by public opinion, in becoming Samanas. To what extent the Sûdras, and the tribes below the Sûdras, were accorded, in communities other than the Buddhist, a similar privilege, is at present doubtful. But the Buddha certainly adopted, and probably extended, the most rational view current at the time.

There is one point, however, in which he seems to have restricted (and for a valid reason) the existing custom. It is impossible to avoid the inference from the passage just referred to (in the Sâmañña-phala, above, ), that the existing orders, or most of them, admitted slaves to their ranks. Now among a number of rules laid down to regulate admission to the Buddhist Order, in such wise that the existing rights of third parties should not be encroached upon, there is a rule (translated in 'Vinaya Texts,' S. B. E., I, 199) that no runaway slave shall be admitted. And in the form of words to be used at the chapter held for admitting new members, one of the questions asked of the candidate is: 'Are you a freeman{2}?' Whenever slaves were admitted to the Order, they must have previously obtained the consent of their masters, and also, I think, have been emancipated.
Secondly, as regards all such matters as we may now fairly call 'questions of caste' outside the Order, the Buddha adopted the only course then open to any man of sense; that is to say, he strove to influence that public opinion, on which the observances depend, by a constant inculcation of reasonable views. Thus in the Âmagandha Sutta{3} of the Sutta {}

Nipâta (certainly one of the very oldest of our documents) it is laid down, in eloquent words, that defilement does not come from eating this or that, prepared or given by this or that person, but from evil deeds and words and thoughts.

This is a particularly interesting passage, being one of the few in which sayings of previous Buddhas are recorded. In other words the Buddhists put forward this view as having been enunciated long ago—with the intended implication that it was a self-evident proposition which was common ground to the wise. No originality, no special insight, is claimed on account of a view that would have put an end to so many foolish prejudices based on superstition. The Buddha's position is again to adopt, in this matter, the sensible position already put forward by others.

As to other details also, which it would take too long to set out here, Gotama followed the same plan. On the general question, however, he had opinions, presumably his own. For they are not found elsewhere. And in the early Buddhist texts (always ready to give credit to others, and even anxious wherever possible to support their views by showing that others, especially in ancient times, had held them) these views are not referred to as part of the doctrine of either earlier or contemporary teachers.

We may class the utterances on this point under three heads—biological, ethical, and historical.
In the Vâsettha Sutta of the Sutta Nipâta (several verses of which have been inserted also in the Dhammapada) the question, as in the Sonadanda Sutta, translated below, is as to what makes a man a Brahman. As his answer the Buddha reminds his questioners of the fact that whereas in the case of plants (large or small), insects, quadrupeds, serpents, fish, and birds, there are many species and marks (due to the species) by which they can be distinguished—in the case of man there are no such species, and no such marks. 'Herein,' as pointed out by Mr. Chalmers{1}, 'Gotama was in accord with the conclusion of modern biologists, that "the Anthropidae are represented by the single genus and species, Man"—a conclusion the more remarkable as the accident of colour did not mislead Gotama' as it did so many of his contemporaries then; and even, within living memory, so many in the West. He goes on to draw the conclusion that distinctions made between different men are mere matters of prejudice and custom; that it is wisdom and goodness that make the only valid distinction, that make a man a Brahman; that the {}

Arahat is therefore the true Brahman; and that it is only the ignorant who had, for so long, maintained that it was birth that made a man a Brahman.

Similar arguments frequently recur. In the Madhura Sutta, a dialogue, shortly after the Buddha's death, between the king of Madhura and Kakkâna, the point raised is whether the Brahmans are right in their exclusive claims. 'The Brahmans say thus, Kakkâna:—"The Brahmans are the most distinguished of the four divisions into which the people is classified{1}; every other division is inferior. The Brahmans are the white division; all the rest are black. The Brahmans alone are accounted pure, not those who are not Brahmans. The Brahmans are the legitimate sons of God (of Brahmâ), born from His mouth, specially made by Him, heirs of Brahmâ! What do you, Sir, say to this?"'

The Buddhist answer is first to remind the king of the actual facts of life—how a prosperous member of any one of the four vannas would find members of each of the other three to wait upon him and serve him. There was no difference between them in this respect. Then, secondly, he points out how a wicked man (whatever his vanna), in accordance with the doctrine of Karma acknowledged by all good men (not only by Buddhists), will be reborn in some state of woe; and a good man in some state of bliss. Thirdly, a criminal, whatever his vanna, would be equally subject to punishment for his crime. And lastly, a man, whatever his vanna, would, on joining an order, on becoming a religieux, receive equal respect and honour from the people{2}.
A Brahman might object that all this ignores the important point that the Brahmans were, originally, born of Brahmâ, and are his legitimate heirs. It was this claim to especial connection with the mysterious powers of a supernatural kind, so widely believed in, that formed their chief weapon in the struggle. We find the Buddhist reply to that in the Aggañña Sutta of the Dîgha, in many respects one of the most interesting and instructive of all the Dialogues{3}. It is a kind {} of Buddhist book of Genesis. In it the pretensions of the Brahmans are put forward in the same terms as those just quoted above from the Madhura Sutta.

Gotama replies that they make these claims in forgetfulness of the past. The claims have no basis in fact. It is righteousness (dhamma) and not class distinction (vanna) that makes the real difference between man and man{1}. Do we not daily see Brahman women with child and bearing sons just like other folk? How can they then say that they are born of God? And as to their origin, when the evolution of the world began, beings were at first immaterial, feeding on joy, giving light from themselves, passing through the air. There was thick darkness round about them, and neither sun nor moon, nor stars, nor sex, nor measures of time. Then the earth rose in the midst of the waters, beautiful as honey in taste and colour and smell, and the beings, eating thereof, lost their brightness, and then sun and moon and stars appeared, and time began to run. And then also their bodies became more coarse and material, and differences of complexion (vanna) became manifest among them. Then some prided themselves, and despised others, on the ground of their finer complexion. And thereupon the fine-tasting earth ceased to be so.

Then successively fine moss, and sweet creepers, and delicate rice appeared, and each time the beings ate thereof with a similar result. Then differences of sex appeared; and households were formed; and the lazy stored up the rice, instead of gathering it each evening and morning; and the rights of property arose, and were infringed. And when lusts were felt, and thefts committed, the beings, now become men, met together, and chose certain men, differing from the others in no wise except in virtue (dhamma), to restrain the evil doers by blame or fines or banishment. These were the first Kshatriyas. And others they chose to restrain the evil dispositions which led to the evil doing. And these were the first Brahmans, differing from the others in no wise, except only in virtue (dhamma).
Then certain others, to keep their households going, and maintain their wives, started occupations of various kinds. And these were the first vessas. And some abandoned their homes and became the first recluses (samanas). But all were alike in origin, and the only distinction between them was in virtue. And the highest of them all was acknowledged {} to be the Arahat, who had made himself so by the destruction of the Four Mental Intoxications (the Âsavas) and by breaking the bonds that tied him to rebirths; the man who had laid aside every burden, who had lived the life, had accomplished all that had to be done, had gained his end, and by the highest knowledge was set free!

We may not accept the historical accuracy of this legend. Indeed a continual note of good-humoured irony runs through the whole story, with its fanciful etymologies of the names of the four vannâ; and the aroma of it would be lost on the hearer who took it au grand sérieux. But it reveals a sound and healthy insight, and is much nearer to the actual facts than the Brahman legend it was intended to replace.

Had the Buddha's views on the whole question won the day—and widely shared, as they were, by others, they very nearly prevailed—the evolution of social grades and distinctions would have gone on in India on lines similar to those it followed in the West, and the caste system of India would never have been built up{1}.

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III. AMBATTHA SUTTA.

[A YOUNG BRAHMAN'S RUDENESS AND AN OLD ONE'S FAITH.]

I. 1. Thus have I heard. The Blessed One, when once on a tour through the Kosala country with a great company of the brethren, with about five hundred brethren, arrived at a Brahman village in Kosala named Ikkhânankala; and while there he stayed in the Ikkhânankala Wood.

Now at that time the Brahman Pokkharasâdi was dwelling at Ukkattha, a spot teeming with life, with much grassland and woodland and corn, on a royal domain, granted him by King Pasenadi of Kosala as a royal gift, with power over it as if he were the king{1}.
Now the Brahman Pokkharasâdi{2} heard the news:

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'They say that the Samana Gotama, of the Sâkya clan, who went out from a Sâkya family to adopt the religious life, has now arrived, with a great company of the brethren of his Order, at Ikkhânankala, and is staying there in the Ikkhânankala Wood. Now regarding that venerable Gotama, such is the high reputation that has been noised abroad:—That Blessed One is an Arahat, a fully awakened one, abounding in wisdom and goodness, happy, with knowledge of the worlds, unsurpassed as a guide to mortals willing to be led, a teacher for gods and men, a Blessed One, a Buddha. He, by himself, thoroughly knows and sees, as it were, face to face this universe,—including the worlds above of the gods, the Brahmas, and the Mâras, and the world below with its recluses and Brahmans, its princes and peoples,—and having known it, he makes his knowledge known to others. The truth, lovely in its origin, lovely in its progress, lovely in its consummation, doth he proclaim, both in the spirit and in the letter, the higher life doth he make known, in all its fullness and in all its purity.

'And good is it to pay visits to Arahats like that.'
Now at that time a young Brahman, an Ambattha{1}, was a pupil under Pokkharasâdi the Brahman. And he was a repeater (of the sacred words) knowing the mystic verses by heart, one who had mastered the Three Vedas, with the indices, the ritual, the phonology, and the exegesis (as a fourth){2}, and the legends {} as a fifth. learned in the idioms and the grammar, versed in Lokâyata sophistry, and in the theory of the signs on the body of a great man{1},—so recognised an authority in the system of the threefold Vedic knowledge as expounded by his master, that he could say of him: 'What I know that you know, and what you know that I know.'

And Pokkarasâdi told Ambattha the news, and said: 'Come now, dear Ambattha, go to the Samana Gotama, and find out whether the reputation so noised abroad regarding him is in accord with the facts or not, whether the Samana Gotama is such as they say or not.'
'But how, Sir, shall I know whether that is so or not?'
'There have been handed down, Ambattha, in our mystic verses thirty-two bodily signs of a great man,—signs which, if a man has, he will become one of two things, and no other{2}. If he dwells at home he will become a sovran of the world, a righteous king, bearing rule even to the shores of the four great oceans, a conqueror, the protector of his people, possessor of the seven royal treasures. And these are the seven treasures that he has—the Wheel, the Elephant, the Horse, the Gem, the Woman, the Treasurer, and the {}

Adviser as a seventh{1}. And he has more than a thousand sons, heroes, mighty in frame, beating down the armies of the foe. And he dwells in complete ascendancy over the wide earth from sea to sea, ruling it in righteousness without the need of baton or of sword. But if he go forth from the household life into the houseless state, then he will become a Buddha who removes the veil from the eyes of the world. Now I, Ambattha, am a giver of the mystic verses; you have received them from me.'

'Very good, Sir,' said Ambattha in reply; and rising from his seat and paying reverence to Pokkharasâdi, he mounted a chariot drawn by mares, and proceeded, with a retinue of young Brahmans, to the Ikkhânankala Wood. And when he had gone on in the chariot as far as the road was practicable for vehicles, he got down, and went on, into the park, on foot.

Now at that time a number of the brethren were walking up and down in the open air. And Ambattha went up to them, and said: 'Where may the venerable Gotama be lodging now? We have come hither to call upon him.'

Then the brethren thought: 'This young Brahman Ambattha is of distinguished family. and a pupil of the distinguished Brahman Pokkharasâdi. The Blessed One will not find it difficult to hold conversation with such.' And they said to Ambattha: 'There, Ambattha, is his lodging{2}, where the door is shut, go quietly up and enter the porch gently, and give a cough, and knock on the cross-bar. The Blessed One will open the door for you.'
Then Ambattha did so. And the Blessed One opened the door, and Ambattha entered in. And the other young Brahmans also went in; and they exchanged with the Blessed One the greetings and {} compliments of politeness and courtesy, and took their seats. But Ambattha, walking about, said something or other of a civil kind in an off-hand way, fidgeting about the while, or standing up, to the Blessed One sitting there.

And the Blessed One said to him: 'Is that the way, Ambattha, that you would hold converse with aged teachers, and teachers of your teachers well stricken in years, as you now do, moving about the while or standing, with me thus seated?'

'Certainly not, Gotama. It is proper to speak with a Brahman as one goes along only when the Brahman himself is walking, and standing to a Brahman who stands, and seated to a Brahman who has taken his seat, or reclining to a Brahman who reclines. But with shavelings, sham friars, menial black fellows, the offscouring of our kinsman's heels{1}—with them I would talk as I now do to you!'

'But you must have been wanting something, Ambattha, when you came here. Turn your thoughts rather to the object you had in view when you came. This young Brahman Ambattha is ill bred, though he prides himself on his culture; what can this come from except from want of training{2}?'
Then Ambattha was displeased and angry with the Blessed One at being called rude; and at the thought that the Blessed One was vexed with him, he said, scoffing, jeering, and sneering at the Blessed One: 'Rough is this Sâkya breed of yours, Gotama, and rude; touchy is this Sâkya breed of yours and {} violent. Menials, mere menials{1}, they neither venerate, nor value, nor esteem, nor give gifts to, nor pay honour to Brahmans. That, Gotama, is neither fitting, nor is it seemly!'

Thus did the young Brahman Ambattha for the first time charge the Sâkyas with being menials.
'But in what then, Ambattha, have the Sâkyas given you offence?'

'Once, Gotama, I had to go to Kapilavatthu on some business or other of Pokkharasâdi's, and went into the Sâkyas' Congress Hall{2}. Now at that time there were a number of Sâkyas, old and young, seated in the hall on grand seats, making merry and joking together, nudging one another with their fingers{3}; and for a truth, methinks, it was I myself that was the subject of their jokes; and not one of them even offered me a seat. That, Gotama, is neither fitting, nor is it seemly, that the Sâkyas, menials as they are, mere menials, should neither venerate, nor value, nor esteem, nor give gifts to, nor pay honour to Brahmans.'

Thus did the young Brahman Ambattha for the second time charge the Sâkyas with being menials.

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'Why a quail, Ambattha, little hen bird though she be, can say what she likes in her own nest. And there the Sâkyas are at their own home, in Kapilavatthu. It is not fitting for you to take offence at so trifling a thing.'

'There are these four grades{1}, Gotama,—the nobles, the Brahmans, the tradesfolk, and the work-people. And of these four, three—the nobles, the tradesfolk, and the work-people—are, verily, but attendants on the Brahmans. So, Gotama, that is neither fitting, nor is it seemly, that the Sâkyas, menials as they are, mere menials, should neither venerate, nor value, nor esteem, nor give gifts to, nor pay honour to the Brahmans.'

Thus did the young Brahman Ambattha for the third time charge the Sâkyas with being menials.
Then the Blessed One thought thus: 'This Ambattha is very set on humbling the Sâkyas with his charge of servile origin. What if I were to ask him as to his own lineage.' And he said to him:

'And what family do you then, Ambattha, belong to?'

'I am a Kanhâyana.'

'Yes, but if one were to follow up your ancient name and lineage, Ambattha, on the father's and the mother's side, it would appear that the Sâkyas were once your masters, and that you are the offspring of one of their slave girls. But the Sâkyas trace their line back to Okkâka the king{2}.

'Long ago, Ambattha, King Okkâka, wanting to divert the succession in favour or the son of his favourite queen, banished his elder children—Okkâmukha, Karanda, Hatthinika, and Sinipura—from the land. And being thus banished they took up their dwelling on the slopes of the Himâlaya, on the borders of a lake where a mighty oak tree grew.

{}

And through fear of injuring the purity of their line they intermarried with their sisters.

'Now Okkâka the king asked the ministers at his court: "Where, Sirs, are the children now{1}?"'

'There is a spot, Sire, on the slopes of the Himâlaya, on the borders of a lake, where there grows a mighty oak (sako). There do they dwell. And lest they should injure the purity of their line they have married their own (sakâhi) sisters.'

'Then did Okkâka the king burst forth in admiration : "Hearts of oak (sakyâ) are those young fellows! Right well they hold their own (paramasakyâ){2}!"

'That is the reason, Ambattha, why they are known as Sâkyas. Now Okkâka had a slave girl called Disâ. She gave birth to a black baby. And no sooner was it born than the little black thing said, "Wash me, mother. Bathe me, mother. Set me free, mother, of this dirt. So shall I be of use to you."

'Now just as now, Ambattha, people call devils "devils," so then they called devils "black fellows" (kanhe). And they said: "This fellow spoke as soon as he was born. 'Tis a black thing (kanha) that is born, a devil has been born!" And that is the origin, Ambattha, of the Kanhayanas s. He was the ancestor of the Kanhâyanas{3}. And thus is it, Ambattha, that if one were to follow up your ancient name and lineage, on the father's and on the mother's side, it would appear that the Sâkyas were once your masters, and that you are the offspring of one of their slave girls.'
When he had thus spoken the young Brahmans said to the Blessed One: 'Let not the venerable {}

Gotama humble Ambattha too sternly with this reproach of being descended from a slave girl. He is well born, Gotama, and of good family; he is versed in the sacred hymns, an able reciter, a learned man. And he is able to give answer to the venerable Gotama in these matters.'

Then the Blessed One said to them: 'Quite so. If you thought otherwise, then it would be for you to carry on our discussion further. But as you think so, let Ambattha himself speak{1}.'

'We do think so; and we will hold our peace. Ambattha is able to give answer to the venerable Gotama in these matters.'

Then the Blessed One said to Ambattha the Brahman: 'Then this further question arises, Ambattha, a very reasonable one which, even though unwillingly, you should answer. If you do not give a clear reply, or go off upon another issue{2}, or remain silent, or go away, then your head will split in pieces on the spot{3}. What have you heard, when Brahmans old and well stricken in years, teachers of yours or their teachers, were talking together, as to whence the Kanhâyanas draw their origin, and who the ancestor was to whom they trace themselves back?'
And when he had thus spoken Ambattha remained silent. And the Blessed One asked the same question again. And still Ambattha remained silent. Then the Blessed One said to him: 'You {} had better answer, now, Ambattha. This is no time for you to hold your peace. For whosoever, Ambattha, does not, even up to the third time of asking, answer a reasonable question put by a Tathâgata (by one who has won the truth), his head splits into pieces on the spot.'

Now at that time the spirit who bears the thunderbolt{1} stood over above Ambattha in the sky with a mighty mass of iron, all fiery, dazzling, and aglow, with the intention, if he did not answer, there and then to split his head in pieces. And the Blessed One perceived the spirit bearing the thunderbolt, and so did Ambattha the Brahman. And Ambattha on becoming aware of it, terrified, startled, and agitated, seeking safety and protection and help from the Blessed One, crouched down beside him in awe{2}, and said: 'What was it the Blessed One said? Say it once again!'

'What do you think, Ambattha? What have you heard, when Brahmans old and well stricken in years, teachers of yours or their teachers, were talking together, as to whence the Kanhâyanas draw their origin, and who the ancestor was to whom they trace themselves back?'

'Just so, Gotama, did I hear, even as the venerable Gotama hath said. That is the origin of the Kanhâyanas, and that the ancestor to whom they trace themselves back.'

And when he had thus spoken the young Brahmans fell into tumult, and uproar, and turmoil; and said: 'Low born, they say, is Ambattha the Brahman; his family, they say, is not of good standing; they say he is descended from a slave girl; and the Sâkyas were his masters. We did not suppose that the Samana Gotama, whose words are righteousness itself, was not a man to be trusted!'
And the Blessed One thought: 'They {} go too far, these Brahmans, in their depreciation of Ambattha as the offspring of a slave girl. Let me set him free from their reproach.' And he said to them: 'Be not too severe in disparaging Ambattha the Brahman on the ground of his descent. That Kanha became a mighty seer{1}. He went into the Dekkan, there he learnt mystic verses, and returning to Okkâka the king, he demanded his daughter Madda-rûpî in marriage. To him the king in answer said: "Who forsooth is this fellow, who—son of my slave girl as he is—asks for my daughter in marriage;" and, angry and displeased, he fitted an arrow to his bow. But neither could he let the arrow fly, nor could he take it off the string again{2}.
'Then the ministers and courtiers went to Kanha the seer, and said: "Let the king go safe, Sir; let the king go safe{3}." "The king shall suffer no harm. But should he shoot the arrow downwards, then would the earth dry up as far as his realm extends." "Let the king, Sir, go safe, and the country too." "The king shall suffer no harm, nor his land. But should he shoot the arrow upwards, the god would not rain for seven years as far as his realm extends{4}." "Let the king, Sir, go safe, and the country too; and let the god rain." "The king shall suffer no harm, nor the land either, and the god shall rain. But let the king aim the arrow at his eldest son. The prince shall suffer no harm, not a hair of him shall be touched."
'Then, O Brahmans, the ministers told this to Okkâka, {} and said: "Let the king aim{1} at his eldest son. He will suffer neither harm nor terror." And the king did so, and no harm was done. But the king, terrified at the lesson given him, gave the man his daughter Madda-rûpî to wife. You should not, O Brahmans, be too severe to disparage Ambattha in the matter of his slave-girl ancestress. That Kanha was a mighty seer: Then the Blessed One said to Ambattha: 'What think you, Ambattha? Suppose a young Kshatriya should have connection with a Brahman maiden, and from their intercourse a son should be born. Now would the son thus come to the Brahman maiden through the Kshatriya youth receive a seat and water (as tokens of respect) from the Brahmans?'

'Yes, he would, Gotama.'

'But would the Brahmans allow him to partake of the feast offered to the dead, or of the food boiled in milk{2}, or of the offerings to the gods, or of food sent as a present?'

'Yes, they would, Gotama.'

'But would the Brahmans teach him their verses or not?'

'They would, Gotama.'

'But would he be shut off, or not, from their women?'

'He would not be shut off.'

'But would the Kshatriyas allow him to receive the consecration ceremony of a Kshatriya?'

'Certainly not, Gotama.'

'Why not that?'

'Because he is not of pure descent on the mother's side.'
'Then what think you, Ambattha? Suppose a Brahman youth should have connection with a Kshatriya maiden, and from their intercourse a son should be born. Now would the son thus come to the Kshatriya maiden through the Brahman youth receive {} a seat and water (as tokens of respect) from the Brahmans?'

'Yes, he would, Gotama.'

'But would the Brahmans allow him to partake of the feast offered to the dead, or of food boiled in milk, or of an offering to the gods, or of food sent as a present?'

'Yes, they would, Gotama.'

'But would the Brahmans teach him their verses or not?'

'They would, Gotama.'

'But would he be shut off, or not, from their women?'

'He would not, Gotama.'

'But would the Kshatriyas allow him to receive the consecration ceremony of a Kshatriya?'

'Certainly not, Gotama.'

'Why not that?'

'Because he is not of pure descent on the father's side.'
'Then, Ambattha, whether one compares women with women, or men with men, the Kshatriyas are higher and the Brahmans inferior.

'And what think you, Ambattha? Suppose the Brahmans, for some offence{1} or other, were to outlaw a Brahman by shaving him and pouring ashes over his head{2}, were to banish him from the land or from the township. Would he be offered a seat or water among the Brahmans?'

'Certainly not, Gotama.'

'Or would the Brahmans allow him to partake of the food offered to the dead, or of the food boiled in milk, or of the offerings to the gods, or of food sent as a present?'

'Certainly not, Gotama.'

{}

'Or would the Brahmans teach him their verses or not?'

'Certainly not, Gotama.'

'And would he be shut off, or not, from their women?'

'He would be shut off.'
'But what think you, Ambattha? If the Kshatriyas had in the same way outlawed a Kshatriya, and banished him from the land or the township, would he, among the Brahmans, be offered water and a seat?'

'Yes, he would, Gotama.'

'And would he be allowed to partake of the food offered to the dead, or of the food boiled in milk, or of the offerings to the gods, or of food sent as a present?'

'He would, Gotama.'

'And would the Brahmans teach him their verses?'

'They would, Gotama?'

'And would he be shut off, or not, from their women?'

'He would not, Gotama.'

'But thereby, Ambattha, the Kshatriya would have fallen into the deepest degradation, shaven as to his head, cut dead with the ash-basket, banished from land and township. So that, even when a Kshatriya has fallen into the deepest degradation. still it holds good that the Kshatriyas are higher, and the Brahmans inferior.
'Moreover it was one of the Brahmâ gods, Sanam-kumâra{1}, who uttered this stanza{2}:
{} "The Kshatriya is the best of those among this folk who put their trust in lineage. But he who is perfect in wisdom and righteousness, he is the best among gods and men."
'Now this stanza, Ambattha, was well sung and not ill sung by the Brahmâ Sanam-kumâra, well said and not ill said, full of meaning and not void thereof. And I too approve it; I also, Ambattha, say: "The Kshatriya is the best of those among this folk who put their trust in lineage. But he who is perfect in wisdom and righteousness, he is the best among gods and men."'

Here ends the First Portion for Recitation{4}.

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CHAPTER II.

II. 1. 'But what, Gotama, is the righteousness, and what the wisdom spoken of in that verse?'

'In the supreme perfection in wisdom and righteousness, Ambattha, there is no reference to the question either of birth, or of lineage, or of the pride which says: "You are held as worthy as I," or "You are not held as worthy as I," It is where the talk is of marrying, or of giving in marriage, that reference is made to such things as that, For whosoever, Ambattha, are in bondage to the notions of birth or of lineage, or to the pride of social position, or of connection by marriage, they are far from the best wisdom and righteousness. It is only by having got rid of all such bondage that one can realise for himself that supreme perfection in wisdom and in conduct,' 'But what, Gotama, is that conduct, and what that wisdom?'
[Here follow, under Morality (Sîla){1}, The introductory paragraphs (§§ 40-42 of the Sâmañña-phala, pp. 62, 63 of the text) on the appearance of a Buddha, his preaching, the conversion of a hearer, and his renunciation of the world: then come
The Sîlas, above, pp. 4-12 (§§ 8-27) of the text, Only the refrain differs, It runs here, at the end of each clause, through the whole of this repeated passage: 'This is reckoned in him as morality.'

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Then under Conduct (Karana), The paragraph on Confidence, above, p. 69 of the text, § 63. The refrain from here onwards is: 'This is reckoned to him as conduct.' The paragraph on 'Guarded is the door of his senses,' above, p. 70 of the text, § 64. The paragraph on 'Mindful and self-possessed,' above, p. 70 of the text, § 65. The paragraph on Content, above, p. 71 of the text, § 66. The paragraph on Solitude, above, p. 71 of the text, § 67. The paragraphs on the Five Hindrances, above, pp. 71-2 of the text, §§ 68-74. The paragraphs on the Four Rapt Contemplations{1}, above, pp. 73-76, §§ 75-82. The refrain at the end of each of them ('higher and better than the last') is here, of course, to be read not as higher fruit of the life of a recluse, but as higher conduct.

Under Wisdom (Viggâ), The paragraphs on Insight arising from Knowledge (Nâna-dassanam), above, p. 76 of the text, §§ 83, 84. The refrain from here onwards is: 'This is reckoned in him as wisdom, and it is higher and sweeter than the last.' The paragraphs on the Mental Image, above, p. 77 of the text, §§ 85, 86. The paragraphs on Mystic Gifts (Iddhi), above, p. 77 of the text, § 87, 88. The paragraphs on the Heavenly Ear (Dibbasota). above, of the text, §§ 89, 90. The paragraphs on Knowledge of the hearts of others (Keto-pariya-ñânam), above, of the text, §§ 91, 92. The paragraphs on Memory of one's own previous

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births (Pubbe-nivâsa-anussati-ñâna), above, of the text, §§ 93, 94.
The paragraph on the Divine Eye (Dibbakakkhu), above, of the text, § 95, 96.
The paragraphs on the Destruction of the Deadly Floods (Âsavânam khaya-ñânam), above, of the text, §§ 97, 98{1}.]

'Such a man, Ambattha, is said to be perfect in wisdom, perfect in conduct, perfect in wisdom and conduct. And there is no other perfection in wisdom and conduct higher and sweeter than this.'

'Now, Ambattha, to this supreme perfection in wisdom and goodness there are Four Leakages{2}. And what are the four?'

'In case, Ambattha, any recluse or Brahman, without having thoroughly attained unto this supreme perfection in wisdom and conduct, with his yoke on his shoulder (to carry fire-sticks, a water-pot, needles, and the rest of a mendicant friar's outfit), should plunge into the depths of the forest, vowing to himself: "I will henceforth be one of those who live only on fruits that have fallen of themselves"—then, verily, he turns out worthy only to be a servant unto him that hath attained to wisdom and righteousness.

'And again, Ambattha, in case any recluse or Brahman, without having thoroughly attained unto this supreme perfection in wisdom and conduct, and without having attained to living only on fruits fallen of themselves, taking a hoe and a basket with him, should plunge into the depths of the forest, vowing to himself: "I will henceforth be one of those who live only on bulbs and roots and fruits"—then, verily, he turns out worthy only to be a servant unto him who hath attained to wisdom and righteousness.

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'And again, Ambattha, in case any recluse or Brahman, without having thoroughly attained unto this supreme perfection in wisdom and conduct, and without having attained to living only on fruits fallen of themselves, and without having attained to living only on bulbs and roots and fruits, should build himself a fire-shrine near the boundaries of some village or some town, and there dwell serving the fire-god{1}—then, verily, he turns out worthy only to be a servant unto him that hath attained to wisdom and righteousness.

'And again, Ambattha, in case any recluse or Brahman, without having thoroughly attained unto this supreme perfection in wisdom and conduct, and without having attained to living only on fruits fallen of themselves, and without having attained to living only on bulbs and roots and fruits, and without having attained to serving the fire-god{2} should build himself a four-doored almshouse at a crossing where four high roads meet, and dwell there, saying to himself: "Whosoever, whether recluse or Brahman, shall pass here, from either of these four directions, him will I entertain according to my ability and according to my power"—then, verily, he turns out worthy only to be a servant unto him who hath attained to wisdom and righteousness.

'These are the Four Leakages, Ambattha, to supreme perfection in righteousness and conduct{2}.
'Now what think you, Ambattha? Have you, as one of a class of pupils under the same teacher, been instructed in this supreme perfection of wisdom and conducts?'
'Not that, Gotama. How little is it that I can profess {} to have learnt! How supreme this perfection of wisdom and conduct! Far is it from me to have been trained therein?'

'Then what think you, Ambattha? Although you have not thoroughly attained unto this supreme perfection of wisdom and goodness, have you been trained to take the yoke upon your shoulders, and plunge into the depths of the forest as one who would fain observe the vow of living only on fruits fallen of themselves?'

'Not even that, Gotama.'

'Then what think you, Ambattha? Although you have not attained unto this supreme perfection of wisdom and goodness, nor have attained to living on fruits fallen of themselves, have you been trained to take hoe and basket, and plunge into the depths of the forest as one who would fain observe the vow of living only on bulbs and roots and frutts?'

'Not even that, Gotama.'

'Then what think you, Ambattha? Although you have not attained unto this supreme perfection of wisdom and goodness, and have not attained to living on fruits fallen of themselves, and have not attained to living on bulbs and roots and fruits, have you been taught to build yourself a fire-shrine on the borders of some village or some town, and dwell there as one who would fain serve the fire-god?'

'Not even that, Gotama.'

'Then what think you, Ambattha? Although you have not attained unto this supreme perfection of wisdom and goodness, and have not attained to living on fruits fallen of themselves, and have not attained to living on bulbs and roots and fruits, and have not attained to serving the fire-god, have you been taught to build yourself a four-doored almshouse at a spot where four high roads cross, and dwell there as one who would fain observe the vow to entertain whosoever might pass that way, from any of the four directions, according to your ability and according to your power?'

'Not even that, Gotama.'

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'So then you, Ambattha, as a pupil, have fallen short{1} of due training, not only in the supreme wisdom and conduct, but even in any one of the Four Leakages by which the complete attainment thereof is debarred. And your teacher too, the Brahman Pokkharasâdi, has told you this saying: "Who are these shavelings, sham friars, menial black fellows, the offscouring of our kinsman's heels, that they should claim converse with Brahmans versed in the threefold Vedic lore!"—he himself not having even fulfilled any one even of these lesser duties (which lead men to neglect the higher ones). See, Ambattha, how deep]y your teacher, the Brahman Pokkharasâdi, has herein done you wrong.'

'And the Brahman Pokkharasâdi, Ambattha, is in the enjoyment of a grant from Pasenadi, the king of Kosala. But the king does not allow him to come into his presence. When he consults with him he speaks to him only from behind a curtain. How is it, Ambattha, that the very king, from whom he accepts this pure and lawful maintenance, King Pasenadi of Kosala, does not admit him to his presence? See, Ambattha, how deeply your teacher, the Brahman Pokkharasâdi, has herein done you wrong{2}.'
'Now what think you, Ambattha? Suppose a king, either seated on the neck of his elephant or on the back of his horse, or standing on the footrug of his chariot , should discuss some resolution of state with his chiefs or princes. And suppose as he left the spot and stepped on one side, a workman (Sûdra) or the slave of a workman should come up and, standing there, should discuss {} the matter, saying: "Thus and thus said Pasenadi the king." Although he should speak as the king might have spoken, or discuss as the king might have done, would he thereby be the king, or even as one of his officers?'

'Certainly not, Gotama.'
'But just so, Ambattha, those ancient poets (Rishis) of the Brahmans, the authors of the verses, the utterers of the verses, whose ancient form of words so chanted, uttered, or composed, the Brahmans of to-day chant over again and rehearse, intoning or reciting exactly as has been intoned or recited—to wit, Atthaka, Vâmaka, Vâmadeva, Vessâmitta, Yamataggi, Angirasa, Bhâradvaga, Vâsettha, Kassapa, and Bhagu{1}—though you can say: "I, as a pupil, know by heart their verses," that you should on that account be a Rishi, or have attained to the state of a Rishi—such a condition of things has no existence!'

'Now what think you, Ambattha? What have you heard when Brahmans, old and well stricken in years, teachers of yours or their teachers, were talking together—did those ancient Rishis, whose verses you so chant over and repeat, parade about well groomed, perfumed, trimmed as to their hair and beard, adorned with garlands and gems, clad in white garments, in the full possession and enjoyment of the five pleasures of sense, as you, and your teacher too, do now?'

'Not that, Gotama.'

'Or did they live, as their food, on boiled rice of the best sorts, from which all the black specks had been sought out and removed, and flavoured with sauces and curries of various kinds, as you, and your teacher too, do now?'

'Not that, Gotama.'
'Or were they waited upon by women with fringes {} and furbelows{1} round their loins, as you, and your teacher too, do now?'

'Or did they go about driving chariots, drawn by mares with plaited manes and tails{2}, using long wands and goads the while, as you, and your teacher too, do now?'

'Not that, Gotama.'

'Or did they have themselves guarded in fortified towns, with moats dug out round them{3} and crossbars let down before the gates{4}, by men girt with long swords, as you, and your teacher too, do now?'

'Not that, Gotama.'
'So then, Ambattha, neither are you a Rishi, nor your teacher, nor do you live under the conditions under which the Rishis lived. But whatever it may be, Ambattha, concerning which you are in doubt or perplexity about me, ask me as to that. I will make it clear by explanation.'
Then the Blessed One went forth from his chamber, and began to walk up and down. And Ambattha did the same. And as he thus walked {} up and down, following the Blessed One, he took stock of the thirty-two signs of a great man, whether they appeared on the body of the Blessed One or not. And he perceived them all save only two. With respect to those two—the concealed member and the extent of tongue{1}—he was in doubt and perplexity, not satisfied, not sure.

And the Blessed One knew that he was so in doubt. And he so arranged matters by his Wondrous Gift that Ambattha the Brahman saw how that part of the Blessed One that ought to be hidden by clothes was enclosed in a sheath. And the Blessed One so bent round his tongue that he touched and stroked both his ears, touched and stroked both his nostrils, and the whole circumference of his forehead he covered with his tongue{2}.

{}

And Ambattha, the young Brahman, thought: 'The Samana Gotama is endowed with the thirty-two signs of a great man, with them all, not only with some of them.' And he said to the Blessed One: 'And now, Gotama, we would fain depart. We are busy, and have much to do.'

'Do, Ambattha, what seemeth to you fit.'

And Ambattha mounted his chariot drawn by mares, and departed thence. Now at that time the Brahman Pokkharasâdi had gone forth from Ukkattha with a great retinue of Brahmans, and was seated in his own pleasaunce waiting there for Ambattha. And Ambattha came on to the pleasaunce. And when he had come in his chariot as far as the path was practicable for chariots, he descended from it, and came on foot to where Pokkharasâdi was, and saluted him, and took his seat respectfully on one side. And when he was so seated, Pokkharasâdi said to him: 'Well, Ambattha! Did you see the Blessed One?'

'Yes, Sir, we saw him.'

'Well! is the venerable Gotama so as the reputation about him I told you of declares; and not otherwise. Is he such a one, or is he not?'

'He is so, Sir, as his reputation declares, and not otherwise. Such is he, not different. And he is endowed with the thirty-two signs of a great man, with all of them, not only with some.'

'And did you have any talk, Ambattha, with the Samana Gotama?'

'Yes, Sir, I had.'

'And how did the talk go?'

Then Ambattha told the Brahman Pokkharasâdi all the talk that he had had with the Blessed One.
When he had thus spoken, Pokkharasâdi said to him: 'Oh! you wiseacre! Oh I you dullard! Oh! you {} expert, forsooth, in our threefold Vedic lore! A man, they say, who should carry out his business thus, must, on the dissolution of the body, after death, be reborn into some dismal state of misery and woe. What could the very points you pressed in your insolent words lead up to, if not to the very disclosures the venerable Gotama made{1}? What a wiseacre; what a dullard; what an expert, forsooth, in our threefold Vedic lore.' And angry and displeased, he struck out with his foot, and rolled Ambattha over. And he wanted, there and then, himself, to go and call on the Blessed One.

But the Brahmans there spake thus to Pokkharasâdi: 'It is much too late, Sir, to-day to go to call on the Samana Gotama. The venerable Pokkharasâdi can do so to-morrow.'

So Pokkharasâdi had sweet food, both hard and soft, made ready at his own house, and taken on wagons, by the light of blazing torches, out to Ukkattha. And he himself went on to the Ikkhânankala Wood, driving in his chariot as far as the road was practicable for vehicles, and then going on, on foot, to where the Blessed One was. And when he had exchanged with the Blessed One the greetings and compliments of politeness and courtesy, he took his seat on one side, and said to the Blessed One: 'Has our pupil, Gotama, the young Brahman Ambattha, been here?'

'Yes, Brahman, he has.'

'And did you, 'Gotama, have any talk with him?'

'Yes, Brahman, I had:
'And on what wise was the talk that you had with him: Then the Blessed One told the Brahman Pokkharasâdi all the talk that had taken place. And when {} he had thus spoken Pokkharasâdi said to the Blessed One:

'He is young and foolish, Gotama, that young Brahman Ambattha. Forgive him, Gotama.'

'Let him be quite happy, Brahman, that young Brahman Ambattha.'
And the Brahman Pokkharasâdi took stock, on the body of the Blessed One, of the thirty-two marks of a Great Being. And he saw them all plainly, save only two. As to two of them—the sheath-concealed member and the extensive tongue—he was still in doubt and undecided. But the Blessed One showed them to Pokkharasâdi, even as he had shown them to Ambattha{1}. And Pokkharasâdi perceived that the Blessed One was endowed with the thirty-two marks of a Great Being, with all of them, not only with some. And he said to the Blessed One: 'May the venerable Gotama grant me the favour of taking his to-morrow's meal with me, and also the members of the Order with him.' And the Blessed One accepted, by silence, his request.

Then the Brahman Pokkharasâdi, seeing that the Blessed One had accepted, had (on the morrow) the time announced to him: 'It is time, oh Gotama, the meal is ready.' And the Blessed One, who had dressed in the early morning, put on his outer robe, and taking his bowl with him, went, with the brethren, to Pokkharasâdi's house, and sat down on the seat prepared for him. And Pokkharasâdi, the Brahman, satisfied the Blessed One, with his own hand, with sweet food, both hard and soft, until he refused any more, and the young Brahmans the members of the Order. And when the Blessed One had finished his meal, and cleansed the bowl and his{2} hands, Pokkharasâdi took a low seat, and sat down beside him.
Then to him thus seated the Blessed One {} discoursed in due order; that is to say, he spake to him of generosity, of right conduct, of heaven, of the danger, the vanity, and the defilement of lusts, of the advantages of renunciation. And when the Blessed One saw that Pokkharasâdi, the Brahman, had become prepared, softened, unprejudiced, upraised, and believing in heart, then he proclaimed the doctrine the Buddhas alone have won; that is to say, the doctrine of sorrow, of its origin, of its cessation, and of the Path. And just as a clean cloth from which all stain has been washed away will readily take the dye, just even so did Pokkharasâdi, the Brahman, obtain, even while sitting there, the pure and spotless. Eye for the Truth, and he knew: 'Whatsoever has a beginning in that is inherent also the necessity of dissolution.

And then the Brahman Pokkharasâdi, as one who had seen the Truth, had mastered it, understood it, dived deep down into it, who had passed beyond doubt and put away perplexity and gained full confidence, who had become dependent on no other man for his knowledge of the teaching of the Master, addressed the Blessed One, and said:
'Most excellent, oh Gotama (are the words of thy mouth), most excellent! Just as if a man were to set up that which has been thrown down, or were to reveal that which has been hidden away, or were to point out the right road to him who has gone astray, or were to bring a light into the darkness so that those who had eyes could see external forms,—just even so, Lord, has the truth been made known to me, in many a figure, by the venerable Gotama. And I, oh Gotama, with my sons, and my wife, and my people, and my companions, betake myself to the venerable Gotama as my guide, to the truth, and to the Order. May the venerable Gotama accept me as a disciple, as one who from this day forth, as long as life endures, has taken him as his guide. And just as the venerable Gotama visits the families of others, his disciples, at Ukkattha, so let him visit {} mine. Whosoever there may be there, of Brahmans or their wives, who shall pay reverence to the venerable Gotama, or stand up in his presence, or offer him a seat or water, or take delight in him, to him that will be, for long, a cause of weal and bliss.'

'It is well, Brahman, what you say.'

Here ends the Ambattha Sutta.

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INTRODUCTION

SONADANDA SUTTA.

THIS Dialogue comes very appropriately immediately after the Ambattha. That dealt with the general question of pride of birth, or social position. This deals with the special question of what is the essential quality which makes a man a Brahman. The conclusion is, no doubt, substantially the same. But there is a difference, and the difference is instructive.

In trying to gain over Ambattha to his (the Buddha's) view of the essential distinction—rather than birth or social position—between man and man, Gotama includes the whole list as set out above in the thirteen divisions of the Sâmañña-phala{1}. In trying to gain over Sonadanda to his (the Buddha's) view of what is the essential quality that makes a man a Brahman, he gives the same details, but puts the Ghânas (the states of Ecstasy) not under Conduct, but under Paññâ (Intelligence).

The reason seems to be simply that the verse, on which the exposition in the Ambattha turns, mentions only Wisdom and Conduct (containing no word for Intelligence), and that it is not thought accurate to put the states of Ecstasy (which are Indian, not specially Buddhist) under Wisdom. It is true that the Buddhist position is that 'goodness is a function of intelligence, as beauty is of health' (to quote the words of Matthew Bassendine). But under Intelligence they always distinguish two phases—the enquiring, and necessarily therefore doubting, activity, of the mind; and the final stage of emancipation and peace when the laws of the universe are clearly seen, and firmly grasped, and cheerfully acquiesced in.

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It is this latter phase which they call Wisdom (Viggâ){1}—the contrary of the Aviggâ, which is ignorance of the action of Karma, of the Four Noble Truths, and of the doctrine of the Âsavas or Intoxications. The man who knows these; who, finally and permanently out of the jungle and in the open, quite beyond the stage of 'wasting his wonder on the fabulous soul,' has attained to, and remains in this state of Nirvâna in Arahatship, is not only, in Buddhist terminology, called a Brahman, but is, in fact, declared to be the only true Brahman.

It is amazing that Sonadanda, as learned as he is wealthy, does not see that this, the logical outcome of the Buddha's argument, and carefully led up to in the final paragraph of the exposition{2}, is really incompatible with the supremacy of the Brahmans in the ordinary sense of that word. He is baffled by the skill with which he is gradually led on, by the usual Socratic method adopted in so many of the Dialogues, to accept one self-evident truth after another. There is indeed nothing, till we come to that last paragraph, which any intelligent Brahman could not, with safety, and with due regard to his own doctrine, fully accept. In other words, the doctrine of Brahman supremacy was intellectually indefensible. It was really quite inconsistent with the ethical standard of the times, which the Brahmans, in common with the rest of the people, fully accepted.

Our Sutta is by no means the only one in which the same, or a similar, argument leads up to the same, or a similar, conclusion. It will aid us in understanding the real gist of our Sutta to mention one or two of these.

In the Tikanna and Gânussoni Suttas of the Anguttara{3} the question put by the Buddha is: 'What sort of person do you Brahmans acknowledge to be a Tevigga Brahman (a Brahman with threefold lore)?'
The answer of each of the Brahmans is, in the words of our Sutta, § 4: 'A Brahman well born on both sides, of pure descent, through the father and through the mother, back through seven generations, with no slur put upon him, and no reproach, in respect of birth—a repeater (of the sacred words) knowing the mystic verses by heart, one who has mastered the Three Vedas, with the indices, the ritual, the phonology, and the exegesis (as a fourth), and with the {} legends as a fifth—a man learned in the (etymologies of the) words and in the grammar, versed in Lokâyata (Nature-Lore){1} and in the theory of the signs on the body of a great man.'
Whereupon the Buddha rejoins that in the teaching of the Arahats the 'threefold lore' is different; and on being asked what it is, answers in the words of sections 93, 95, and 97 of the Sâmañña-phala Sutta, which are quoted as the last three paragraphs of his exposition in our Sutta, that is to say, a. The knowledge of one's own previous births. b. The knowledge of other people's previous births. c. The knowledge of the Four Truths, and of the Four Intoxications (Âsavas), leading on to the emancipation of Arahatship.

The only difference is that at the end of each section, and after the words setting forth the emancipation, the following sentence is added:

'This first (or second, or third) lore hath he required. Ignorance is dispelled within him, and wisdom has been born. The darkness has been dissipated, the light has appeared. (And all this) inasmuch as he has continued in earnestness, in zeal, in mastery of himself.'

And at the end of the whole the following verses are also added:
'Him do they honour whose heart,—unswerving in goodness, and wise, Given to earnest thought,—rests in his own control, Pacified, stedfast. And him resolute, able in method, Threefold in knowledge, dispelling the darkness, the conqueror of Death, who Lived for the weal of gods and of men delivered from folly, Him of the threefold lore, mindful and self-possessed, Him do they honour, the Buddha, our Gotama, wearing now, Conqueror, too, of Birth, the last of his mortal frames!
''Tis he who is a Brâhmana indeed Who knows the births that he has lived before; And sees (with Heavenly Eye) the states of bliss, And states of woe, that other men pass through; Has reached the end of all rebirths, become A sage, perfect in insight, Arahat, In these three modes of knowledge threefold wise.

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Him do I call a Brahman, threefold wise, And not the man who mutters o'er again The mystic verse so often muttered through before.'

How important a place this doctrine occupied in early Buddhism is made evident by the fact that this latter stanza, with variations at the close, is so constantly repeated. We find it in the 99th Sutta of the Iti-vuttaka () and in the 91st Sutta of the Magghima (the Brahmâyu Sutta). And it is quoted also, not only in this Sutta in the Anguttara, and in another Sutta in the Samyutta (I, 167), but also in the collection of verses from the Pitakas called the Dhammapada (verse 423); and also in the other collection of such verses (probably belonging to some other school of Buddhists), now preserved in the oldest MS. yet discovered in India, the so-called Kharoshthi MS., portions of which have simultaneously found their way, last year, to both St. Petersburg and Paris.

The whole section of the Dhammapada, which contains this quotation, consists of no less than forty verses, each of which, from one point of view or another, emphasise this point of the identification, by the Buddhists, of the Arahat with the Brahman. Twenty-seven of them are taken from the Vâsettha Sutta of the Sutta Nipâta, in which the question raised is precisely the same as that raised in our Sutta, and in which the reply, though different in details, amounts to much the same as the reply given here.
Two conclusions force themselves upon us. It is, in the first place, a striking proof of the high social esteem in which the Brahmans, as such, and quite irrespective of character, were held by the masses of the people. We have hitherto only had the views which the Brahmans held about themselves. And very absurd they seem to readers whose own vivid sense of superiority rests on a self-complacency quite as inexpugnable as that of the Brahmans. Here we have evidence from an independent source,—evidence all the stronger because it is found in Suttas in which the exclusive claims of the Brahmans by birth are vigorously contested. When the Buddhists, in selecting a title of honour for those they valued so highly, for the best of men, for the Arahats, selected the name of Brahman, it is clear that that word, in the opinion of the early Buddhists, conveyed to the minds of the people an exalted meaning, a connotation of real veneration and respect. And it is not likely that this would have been the case unless the Brahmans had, at least as {} a general rule, deserved it—and on other grounds than the mere prerogative of birth.

In the second place, if the contention of the Buddhists had been universally accepted—if the word Brahman had come to mean, not only a man of a certain descent, but exclusively a man of a certain character and insight—then the present caste system of India could never have grown up. But it was obviously impossible that the contention should succeed.

The method, adopted by all reformers, of pouring new wine into old bottles, putting new meanings into ancient words, can only succeed under conditions, that, in this case, were non-existent. And it is always open to the danger that, with the old and hallowed word, the old superstition associated with it will also survive. It was a method largely adopted by the Buddhists; and in numerous other cases, to which I have elsewhere called attention, adopted with success. The subsequent language of India is full of phrases and words which bear, not the meaning which they previously bore, but the new and higher meaning put into them by Buddhists. But in this case the two ideas were too widely apart, too contradictory. A physical meaning cannot be replaced by an ethical one. The actual facts of life, which they could not alter,—Could not, indeed, attempt to alter,—were a constant influence, against their view, too strong to be overcome. Brahmans by birth, many of them, perhaps most of them, engaged in various worldly trades and occupations, and therefore Brahmans only by birth, were so constant and so important a factor in the daily and hourly life of the people, that the idea of birth could not be dissociated from the word. The Buddhists failed. And they not only failed, their very choice of the word as a title of honour, must (through the wide influence they exercised for so many centuries throughout and beyond the valley of the Ganges) have actually afforded a fresh strength to the veneration which the word inspired. The very means they adopted to lend weight to their doctrine of emancipation became a weapon to be turned against themselves.

It is unlikely that this really mattered much. The point was only one detail in a broad scheme which was doomed from the outset to failure—that is if failure to attain immediate and lasting acceptance can rightly be called the failure of a theory of life.
A theory which placed the ideal in Self-conquest, regarded final salvation as obtainable in this world, and in this world {} only, and only by self-conquest—a view of life that ignored the 'soul' and brought the very gods themselves under the domain of law—a religious movement which aimed its keenest shafts against all those forms of belief in the supernatural and mysterious, appealing most strongly alike to the hopes and to the fears of the people—a philosophy that confined itself to going back, step by step, from effect to cause, and poured scorn on speculations as to the ultimate origin and end of all things—might gain, by the powerful personality of its founder and the enthusiasm and zeal of his early followers, a certain measure of temporary success. But it fought against too many vested interests at once, it raised up too many enemies, it tried in 'pouring new wine into the old bottles' to retain too much of the ancient phraseology, for lasting victory—at least at that time, and in an advancing country then assimilating to itself surrounding peoples at a lower grade of culture. The end was inevitable. And it was actually brought about, not by persecution, but by the gradual weakening of the theory itself, the gradual creeping back, under new forms and new names, of the more popular beliefs.

The very event which seemed, in the eyes of the world, to be the most striking proof of the success of the new movement, the conversion and strenuous support of Asoka, the most powerful ruler India had had—indeed the first real overlord over practically the whole of India—only hastened the decline. The adhesion of large numbers of nominal converts, more especially from the newly incorporated and less advanced provinces, produced weakness, rather than strength, in the movement for reform. The day of compromise had come. Every relaxation of the old thoroughgoing position was widely supported by converts only half converted. And the margin of difference between the Buddhists and their opponents gradually faded almost entirely away. The soul theory, step by step, gained again the upper hand. The caste system was gradually built up into a completely organised system. The social supremacy of the Brahmans by birth became accepted as an incontrovertible fact. And the in flood of popular superstition which overwhelmed the Buddhist movement, overwhelmed also the whole pantheon of the Vedic gods. Buddhism and Brahmanism alike passed practically away, and modern Hinduism arose on the ruins of both.
The struggle is now being renewed under conditions perhaps, on the whole, more favourable. The tone of worldliness and love of material comfort, the eager restlessness {} of modern social, and economic competition, the degradation of learning to a mere means of getting on and making money, are no doubt all unfavourable to any movement for the social and religious elevation of a people. But history shows, notably in the case of the Reformation in Europe, how powerfully the contact of two diverse views of life tends to widen the thoughts of men. Both India and Europe in the twentieth century may be fairly expected to afford fresh examples of the same influence. And in India the powerful aid of the new methods of science and of historical criticism will lend their invaluable aid to the party endeavouring, now once again, to place the ideal, not in birth, but in character and wisdom.

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IV. SONADANDA SUTTA.

[CHARACTERISTICS OF THE TRUE BRAHMAN.]

I. Thus have I heard. The Blessed One once, when going on a tour through the Anga country with a great multitude of the brethren, with about five hundred brethren, arrived at Kampâ{1}. And there at Kampâ he lodged on the bank of the Gaggarâ Lake{2}.

Now at that time the Brahman Sonadanda was dwelling at Kampâ, a place teeming with life{3}, with much grassland and woodland and water and corn, on a royal domain granted him by Seniya Bimbisâra, the king of Magadhâ{4}, as a royal fief, with power over it as if he were the king.
Now the Brahmans and householders of Kampâ heard the news: 'They say that the Samana Gotama of the Sâkya clan, who went out from a Sâkya family to adopt the religious life, has now arrived, with a great {} company of the brethren at Kampâ, and is staying there on the shore of the Gaggarâ Lake. Now regarding that venerable Gotama, such is the high reputation that has been noised abroad:—That Blessed One is an Arahat, a fully awakened one, abounding in wisdom and goodness, happy, with knowledge of the worlds, unsurpassed as a guide to mortals willing to be led, a teacher for gods and men, a Blessed One, a Buddha. He, by himself, thoroughly knows and sees, as it were, face to face this universe,—including the worlds above of the gods, the Brahmas, and the Mâras, and the world below with its recluses and Brahmans, its princes and peoples,—and having known it, he makes his knowledge known to others. The truth, lovely in its origin, lovely in its progress, lovely in its consummation, doth he proclaim, both in the spirit and in the letter, the higher life cloth he make known, in all its fullness and in all its purity.

'And good is it to pay visits to Arahats like that.'

And the Brahmans and householders of Kampâ began to leave Kampâ in companies and in bands from each district{1}, so that they could be counted, to go to the Gaggarâ Lake.

Now at that time Sonadanda the Brahman had gone apart to the upper terrace of his house for his siesta, and seeing the people thus go by, he said to his doorkeeper: 'Why are the people of Kampâ going forth like this towards the Gaggarâ Lake?'

Then the doorkeeper told him the news. And he said: 'Then, good doorkeeper, go to the Brahmans and householders of Kampâ, and say to them: "Sonadanda the Brahman desires them to wait. He will himself come to see the Samana Gotama."'

'Very well, Sir,' said the doorkeeper, and he did so.
Now at that time there were about five hundred Brahmans from different kingdoms lodging at Kampâ for some business or other. And when they heard that Sonadanda was intending to visit the {}

Samana Gotama, they went to Sonadanda, and asked whether that was so.

'That is my intention, Sirs. I propose to call on the Samana Gotama.'

'Let not the venerable Sonadanda do that. It is not fitting for him to do so. If it were the venerable Sonadanda who went to call upon him, then the venerable Sonadanda's reputation would decrease and the Samana Gotama's would increase. This is the first reason why you, Sir, should not call upon him, but he upon you.'
And they laid before Sonadanda the Brahman in like manner also other considerations, to wit:

That he was well born on both sides, of pure descent through the mother and through the father back through seven generations, with no slur put upon him, and no reproach, in respect of birth.—

That he was prosperous, well to do, and rich—

That he was a repeater (of the sacred words), knowing the mystic verses by heart, one who had mastered the Three Vedas, with the indices, the ritual, the phonology, and the exegesis (as a fourth), and the legends as a fifth, learned in the words and in the grammar, versed in Lokâyata (Nature-lore), and in the theory of the signs on the body of a great man—

That he was handsome, pleasant to look upon, inspiring trust, gifted with great beauty of complexion, fair in colour, fine in presence{1}, stately{2} to behold—

That he was virtuous, increased in virtue, gifted with virtue that had waxed great—

That he had a pleasant voice and pleasing delivery, and was gifted with polite address, distinct, not husky{3}, suitable for making clear the matter in hand—
That he was the teacher of the teachers of many, {} instructing three hundred Brahmans in the repetition of the mystic verses, and that many young Brahmans, from various directions and various counties, all craving for the verses, came to learn them by heart under him—

That he was aged, old, and well stricken in years, long-lived and full of days—

That he was honoured, held of weight, esteemed worthy, venerated and revered by Seniya Bimbisâra, the king of Magadhâ—

That he was honoured, held of weight, esteemed worthy, venerated and revered by Pokkharasâdi, the Brahman—

That he dwelt at Kampâ, a place teeming with life, with much grassland and woodland and corn, on a royal fief granted him by Seniya Bimbisâra, the king of Magadhâ, as a royal gift, with power over it as if he were the king—

For each of these reasons it was not fitting that he, Sonadanda the Brahman, should call upon the Samana Gotama, but rather that the Samana Gotama should call upon him.
And when they had thus spoken, Sonadanda said to them:

'Then, Sirs, listen, and hear why it is fitting that I should call upon the venerable Gotama, and not he should call upon me—

'Truly, Sirs, the venerable Gotama is well born on both sides, of pure descent through the mother and the father back through seven generations, with no slur put upon him, and no reproach in respect of birth—

'Truly, Sirs, the Samana Gotama has gone forth (into the religious life), giving up the great clan of his relations{1}—

'Truly, Sirs, the Samana Gotama has gone forth (into the religious life), giving up much money and gold, treasure both buried and above the ground—

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'Truly, Sirs, the Samana Gotama, while he was still a young man, without a grey hair on his head, in the beauty of his early manhood, has gone forth from the household life into the homeless state—

'Truly, Sirs, the Samana Gotama, though his father and mother were unwilling, and wept, their cheeks being wet with tears, nevertheless cut off his hair and beard, and donned the yellow robes, and went out from the household life into the homeless state—

'Truly, Sirs, the Samana Gotama is handsome, pleasant to look upon, inspiring trust, gifted with great beauty of complexion, fair in colour, fine in presence, stately to behold—

'Truly, Sirs, the Samana Gotama is virtuous with the virtue of the Arahats, good and virtuous, gifted with goodness and virtue—

'Truly, Sirs, the Samana Gotama hath a pleasant voice, and a pleasing delivery, he is gifted with polite address, distinct, not husky, suitable for making clear the matter in hand—

'Truly, Sirs, the Samana Gotama is the teacher of the teachers of many—

'Truly, Sirs, the Samana Gotama has no passion of lust left in him, and has put away all fickleness of mind—

'Truly, Sirs, the Samana Gotama believes in Karma, and in action{1}, he is one who puts righteousness in the forefront (of his exhortations) to the Brahman race—

'Truly, Sirs, the Samana Gotama went forth from a distinguished family primeval{2} among the Kshatriya clans—

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'Truly, Sirs, the Samana Gotama went forth from a family prosperous, well to do, and rich—

'Truly, Sirs, people come right across the country from distant lands to ask questions of the Samana Gotama—

'Truly, Sirs, multitudes of heavenly beings put their trust in the Samana Gotama—

'Truly, Sirs, such is the high reputation noised abroad concerning the Samana Gotama, that he is said to be an Arahat, exalted, fully awakened, abounding in wisdom and righteousness, happy, with knowledge of the worlds, a Blessed One, a Buddha—

'Truly, Sirs, the Samana Gotama has all the thirty-two bodily marks of a Great Being—

'Truly, Sirs, the Samana Gotama bids all men welcome, is congenial, conciliatory, not supercilious, accessible to all, not backward in conversation—

'Truly, Sirs, the Samana Gotama is honoured, held of weight, esteemed and venerated and revered by the four classes (of his followers—the brethren and sisters of the Order, laymen and lay women)—
'Truly, Sirs, many gods and men believe in the Samana Gotama— "Truly, Sirs, in whatsoever village or town the Samana Gotama stays, there the non-humans do the humans no harm—
'Truly, Sirs, the Samana Gotama as the head of an Order, of a school, as the teacher of a school, is the acknowledged chief of all the founders of sects. Whereas some Samanas and Brahmans have gained a reputation by all sorts of insignificant matters{1}, not {} so the Samana Gotama. His reputation comes from perfection in conduct and righteousness—

'Truly, Sirs, the king of Magadhâ, Seniya Bimbisâra, with his children and his wives, with his people and his courtiers, has put his trust in the Samana Gotama—

'Truly, Sirs, King Pasenadi of Kosala, with his children and his wives, with his people and his courtiers, has put his trust in the Samana Gotama—

'Truly, Sirs, Pokkharasâdi the Brahman, with his children and his wives, with his people and his intimates, has put his trust in the Samana Gotama—

'Truly, Sirs, the Samana Gotama is honoured, held of weight, esteemed, and venerated and revered alike by Seniya Bimbisâra, the king of Magadhâ, by Pasenadi the king of Kosala, and by Pokkharasâdi the Brahman—

'Truy, Sirs, the Samana Gotama has now arrived at Kampâ and is staying on the shores of the Gaggarâ Lake. But all Samanas and Brahmans who come into our village borders are our guests. And guests we ought to esteem and honour, to venerate and revere. And as he is now so come, he ought to be so treated, as a guest—

'For each and all of these considerations it is not fitting that the Samana Gotama should call upon us, but rather does it behove us to call upon him. And so far only do I know the excellencies of the Samana Gotama, but these are not all of them, for his excellence is beyond measure.'

And when he had thus spoken, those Brahmans said to him: 'The venerable Sonadanda declares the praises of the Samana Gotama on such wise, that were he to be dwelling even a hundred leagues from here, it would be enough to make a believing man go thither to call upon him, even had he to carry a bag (for the provisions for the journey) on his back{1}. Let us then all go to call on the Samana Gotama together!'

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So Sonadanda the Brahman went out to the Gaggarâ Lake with a great company of Brahmans.
Now the following hesitation arose in Sonadanda's mind as he passed through the wood: 'Were I to ask the Samana Gotama a question, if he were to say: "The question ought not to be asked so, thus ought the question to be framed;" the company might thereupon speak of me with disrespect, saying: "Foolish is this Sonadanda the Brahman, and inexpert. He is not even able to ask a question rightly." But if they did so my reputation would decrease; and with my reputation my incomings would grow less, for what we have to enjoy, that depends on our reputation. But if the Samana Gotama were to put a question to me, I might not be able to gain his approval{1} by my explanation of the problem. And if they were then to say to me: "The question ought not to be answered so; thus ought the problem to be explained;" the company might thereupon speak of me with disrespect, saying: "Foolish is this Sonadanda the Brahman, and inexpert. He is not even able to satisfy the Samana Gotama by his explanation of the problem put." But if they did so, my reputation would decrease; and with my reputation my incomings would grow less, for what we have to enjoy, that depends upon our reputation. But on the other hand if, having come so far, I should turn back without calling upon the Samana Gotama, then might the company speak disrespectfully of me, saying: "Foolish is this Sonadanda the Brahman, and inexpert, though obstinate with pride, he is so afraid that he dare not call on the Samana Gotama. How can he turn back after having come so far?" But if they did so, my reputation would decrease; and with my reputation my incomings would grow less. For what we have to enjoy, that depends upon our reputation.
So Sonadanda the Brahman went up to where the {}

Blessed One was. And when he had come there he exchanged with the Blessed One the greetings and compliments of politeness and courtesy, and took his seat on one side. And as to the Brahmans and householders of Kampâ, some of them bowed to the Blessed One and took their seats on one side; some of them exchanged with him the greetings and compliments of politeness and courtesy, and then took their seats on one side; some of them called out their name and family, and then took their seats on one side; and some of them took their seats on one side in silence.

Now as Sonadanda was seated there he was still filled with hesitation, thinking as before set out; and he added to himself: 'Oh! would that the Samana Gotama would but ask me some question on my own subject, on the threefold Vedic lore. Verily, I should then be able to gain his approval by my exposition of the problem put!'

Now the Blessed One became aware in his own mind of the hesitation in the mind of Sonadanda, and he thought: 'This Sonadanda is afflicted in his heart. I had better question him on his own doctrine.' And he said to him: 'What are the things, Brahman, which the Brahmans say a man ought to have in order to be a Brahman, so that if he says: "I am a Brahman," he speaks accurately and does not become guilty of falsehood?'

Then Sonadanda thought: 'What I wished and desired and had in my mind and hoped for—that the Samana Gotama should put to me some question on my own subject, on the threefold Vedic lore—that he now does. Oh! that I may be able to satisfy his heart with my exposition thereof!'
And drawing his body up erect, and looking round on the assembly, he said to the Blessed One: 'The Brahmans, Gotama, declare him to be a Brahman who can accurately say "I am a Brahman" without being guilty of falsehood, who has five things. And what are the five? In the first place, Sir, a Brahman is well born on both sides, on the mother's side and on {} the father's side, of pure descent back through seven generations, with no slur put upon him, and no reproach, in respect of birth—

'Then he is a repeater (of the sacred words), knowing the mystic verses by heart, one who has mastered the Three Vedas, with the indices, the ritual, the phonology, and the exegesis (as a fourth), and the legends as a fifth, learned in the phrases and in the grammar, versed in Lokâyata sophistry, and in the theory of the signs on the body of a great man—

'Then he is handsome, pleasant to look upon, inspiring trust, gifted with great beauty of complexion, fair in colour, fine in presence, stately to behold,—

'Then he is virtuous, increased in virtue, gifted with virtue that has grown great—

'Then he is learned and wise, the first, or it may be the second, among those who hold out the ladle{1}.'

'But of these five things, oh Brahman, is it possible to leave one out, and to declare the man who has the other four to be a Brahman, to be one who can accurately, and without falling into falsehood, claim to be a Brahman?'

'Yes, Gotama, that can be done. We could leave out colour{2}. For what does colour matter? If he have the other four—good birth, technical training, virtue, and wisdom, as just set forth{3}-Brahmans would still declare him to be a Brahman; and he could rightly, without danger of falsehood, claim to be one.'

'But of these four things, oh Brahman, is it possible to leave one out, and to declare the man who has the other three to be a Brahman, to be one who can rightly, and without falling into falsehood, claim to be a Brahman?'
'Yes, Gotama, that could be done. We could leave out the verses. For what do the verses matter? If {} he have the other three—good birth, virtue, and wisdom—Brahmans would still declare him to be a Brahman; and he could rightly, without danger of falsehood, claim to be one.'

'But of these three things, Brahman, is it possible to leave one out, and to declare the man who has the other two to be a Brahman, to be one who can accurately, and without falling into falsehood, claim to be a Brahman?'

'Yes, Gotama, that could be done. We could leave out birth. For what does birth matter? If he have the other two—virtue and wisdom—Brahmans would still declare him to be a Brahman; and he could rightly, without danger of falsehood, claim to be one.'

And when he had thus spoken the other Brahmans said to Sonadanda: 'Say not so, venerable Sonadanda, say not so! He depreciates not only our colour, but he depreciates our verses and our birth. Verily the venerable Sonadanda is going over to the doctrine of the Samana Gotama.'

Then the Blessed One said to those Brahmans: 'If you, oh Brahmans, think that Sonadanda is unlearned, that he speaks unfittingly, that he is unwise, that he is unable to hold his own with me in this matter, let him keep silence, and do you discuss with me. But if you think him learned, able in speech, wise, able to hold his own, then do you keep silence, and let him discuss with me.'

And when he had thus spoken, Sonadanda the Brahman said to those Brahmans: 'Let not the venerable ones say so. Say not so, Sirs. I do not depreciate either our colour, nor our verses, nor our birth.'
Now at that time a young Brahman named Angaka{1}, sister's son to Sonadanda the Brahman, was seated in that company. And Sonadanda said to those {}

Brahmans: 'Do the venerable ones see this Angaka, our nephew?'

'Yes, Sir, we see him.'

'Well! Angaka, Sirs, is handsome, pleasant to look upon, inspiring trust, gifted with great beauty of complexion, fair in colour, fine in presence, stately to behold—none in this assembly is like unto him in colour, save only the Samana Gotama.

'And Angaka, Sirs, is a repeater (of the sacred words), knowing the mystic verses by heart, one who has mastered the Three Vedas, with the indices, the ritual, the phonology, and the exegesis (as a fourth), and the legends as a fifth, learned in the phrases and the grammar, versed in Lokâyata (Nature-lore), and in the theory of the signs on the body of a great man—I myself have taught him the verses.

'And Angaka, Sirs, is well born on both sides, on the mother's side and on the father's side, of pure descent back through seven generations, with no slur put upon him, and no reproach in respect of birth—I myself know his forebears, on the mother's side and on the father's.

'If Angaka, Sirs, should kill living things, and take what has not been given, and go the way of the adulterer, and speak lies, and drink strong drink, what then, Sirs, would his colour avail him? what the verses? what his birth?

'It is in so far, Sirs, as a Brahman is virtuous, increased in virtue, gifted with virtue that has grown great; in so far as he is learned and wise, the first, or it may be the second, among those who hold out the ladle, that Brahmans would declare him, as endowed with these two qualities, to be a Brahman, to be one who could rightly say "I am a Brahman" without falling into falsehood.'

'But of these two things, oh Brahman, is it possible to leave one out, and to declare the man who has the other to be a Brahman, to be one who can rightly, and without falling into falsehood, claim to be a Brahman?'

{}

'Not that, Gotama! For wisdom, oh Gotama, is purified by uprightness, and uprightness is purified by wisdom. Where there is uprightness, wisdom is there, and where there is wisdom, uprightness is there. To the upright there is wisdom, to the wise there is uprightness, and wisdom and goodness are declared to be the best thing in the world{1}. Just, oh Gotama, as one might wash hand with hand, or foot with foot, just even so, oh Gotama, is wisdom purified by uprightness, and uprightness is purified by wisdom. Where there is uprightness, wisdom is there, and where there is wisdom, uprightness is there. To the upright, there is wisdom, to the wise there is uprightness, and wisdom and goodness are declared to be the best thing in the world.'
'That is just so, oh Brahman. And I, too, say the same. But what, then, is that uprightness and what that wisdom?, 'We only know, oh Gotama, the general statement in this matter. May the venerable Gotama be pleased to explain the meaning of the phrase.'

'Well then, oh Brahman, give ear, and pay earnest attention, and I will speak.'
'Very well, Sir,' said Sonadanda in assent to the Blessed One. And the Blessed One said:

[Here follow the paragraphs 40-63 in the Sâmañña-Phala Sutta above, pp. 62-70 of the text; that is, the paragraph on the appearance of a Buddha, his preaching, the conversion of the hearer, his renunciation of the world, all the Sîlas, and the paragraph on Confidence, § 63.]

'This also, oh Brahman, is that uprightness' (Sîla).

[Here follow the paragraphs on the Ghânas, beginning

{} at So vivikk' eva kâmehi in § 75 of the Sâmañña-phala down to the end of § 82*, then the paragraphs on Insight arising from Knowledge, on the Mental Image, on the Wondrous Gifts, on the Heavenly Ear, on Knowledge of the hearts of others, on Memory of one's own previous births, on the Divine Eye, and on the Destruction of the Deadly Floods, all as in the Sâmañña-phala,* §§ 83-98 inclusive.]

'This, oh Brahman, is that wisdom{1}.'
When he had thus spoken, Sonadanda the Brahman said to the Blessed One:

'Most excellent, oh Gotama (are the words of thy mouth), most excellent! Just as if a man were to set up that which has been thrown down, or were to reveal that which has been hidden away, or were to point out the right road to him who has gone astray, or were to bring a light into the darkness so that those who had eyes could see external forms—just even so has the truth been made known to me, in many a figure, by the venerable Gotama. I, even I, betake myself to the venerable Gotama as my guide, to the truth, and to the Order. And may the venerable Gotama accept me as a disciple, as one who, from this day forth, as long as life endures, has taken him as his guide. And may the venerable Gotama grant me the favour of taking his to-morrow's meal with me, and also the members of the Order with him.'
Then the Blessed One signified, by silence, his consent. And Sonadanda, on seeing that he had done so, arose from his seat and bowed down before the Blessed {}

One, and walking round him with his right hand towards him, departed thence. And at early dawn he made ready at his house sweet food, both hard and soft, and had the time announced to the Blessed One: 'It is time, oh Gotama, and the meal is ready.'

Then the Blessed One, who had dressed in the early morning, put on his outer robe, and taking his bowl with him, went with the brethren to Sonadanda's house, and sat down on the seat prepared for him. And Sonadanda the Brahman satisfied the Blessed One, and the brethren, with his own hand, with sweet food, both hard and soft, until they refused any more.
And when the Blessed One had finished his meal, and cleansed the bowl and his hands, Sonadanda took a low seat, and sat down beside him, and said: 'If, oh Gotama, after I have entered the assembly, I should rise from my seat to bow down before the venerable Gotama, then the assembly would find fault with me{1}. Now he with whom the assembly should find fault, his reputation would grow less; and he who should lose his reputation, his income would grow less. For that which we have to enjoy, that depends upon our reputation. If then, when I am seated in the assembly, I stretch forth my joined palms in salutation, let the venerable Gotama accept that from me as arising up from my seat. And if when I am seated in the assembly I take off my turban, let the venerable Gotama accept that from me as a salutation with my head. So if, when I am in my chariot, I were to get down from the chariot to salute the venerable Gotama, the surrounders would find fault with me. If, then, when mounted on my chariot, I bend down low the staff of my goad, let the venerable Gotama accept that from me as if I had got down. And if, when mounted on my chariot, I should wave {} my hand, let the venerable Gotama accept that from me as if I had bowed low in salutation{1}!'
Then the Blessed One instructed and roused and incited and gladdened Sonadanda the Brahman with religious discourse, and then rose from his seat and departed thence.

Here ends the Sonadanda Sutta.

{}

INTRODUCTION

KÛTADANTA SUTTA.

WHOEVER put this Sutta together must have been deeply imbued with the spirit of subtle irony that plays no less a part in the Suttas than it does in so many of the Gâtakas. I have already called attention to the great importance for the right understanding of early Buddhist teaching of a constant appreciation of this sort of subtle humour{1}. It has been hitherto, so far as I am aware, entirely overlooked—that is, in the Suttas; everyone recognises it in the Gâtaka tales. The humour is not at all intended to raise a laugh, scarcely even a smile. And the aroma of it, pervading the whole of an exposition—none the less delightful because of the very serious earnestness of the narrator, all the while, as regards the ethical point at issue—is apt to be lost sight of precisely because of that earnestness. And just as a joke may be explained, but the point of it spoilt in the process, so in the attempt to write about this irony, much more delicate than any joke, one runs great danger of smothering it under the explanatory words.
The attempt, nevertheless, must be made. And it is most easy, perhaps, to do so by an example which no one will dispute. In the Râgovâda Gâtaka{2} we are told of the two kings, reigning over the famous lands of Benares and Kosala, who simultaneously determined to examine into their own faults! No courtier would tell them of any. So they each went, and went in vain, to the people in the city, outside the palace on a similar quest. Finding no fault-finders there, they each went on to the city gate, and then to the surrounding suburbs, all in vain. So they each made over the kingdom to their respective ministers, and with a single attendant as charioteer, sallied forth into the world, {} to find some one to tell them of their faults. Bent on this, so serious, quest, the two came face to face in a low cart-track with precipitous sides. Each calls on the other to make way for a king. Both are kings! How to settle the point? 'I have it,' says one charioteer: 'Let the younger give way.' The kings turn out to be exactly of an age. 'Then let the lord of the lesser realm go back.' Their kingdoms are exactly equal in size. And so on, in succession, are found to be the strength of their two armies, the amount of their treasure, the glory of their renown, the fame of their realms, the distinction of their caste, and tribe, and family. Then at last comes the solution. The king of Kosala overcomes evil by evil. Of the other, the king of Benares, it is said:
'Anger he conquers by calmness, And by goodness the wicked, The stingy he conquers by gifts, And by truth the speaker of lies{1}.'

And on this being proclaimed, the king of Kosala and his charioteer alighted from their chariot. And they took out the horses, and removed their chariot, and made way for the king of Benares.

There is not a word in the whole story, here told in abstract{2}, to suggest that it is not all sober history. But of course the whole story is invented. The two kings are brought on to the stage merely to carry on their broad shoulders the moral of the tale, and the dry humour of the predicament in which they find themselves is there to attract attention to, to add emphasis to, the lesson taught.
What is the especial point in this fun—a kind of fun quite unknown in the West? It is the piquancy of the contrast between the mock seriousness of the extravagant, even impossible details, and the real serious earnestness of the ethical tone. The fun of the extravagance can be matched, easily enough, in European, and especially in American humour. The piquancy of this contrast is Indian, and especially Buddhist. Even the theosophic myth-makers of the Vedas had a sense of the humour in the incongruities, the half realities of their myths. One feels it occasionally even in the Brâhmanas. In the Upanishads it is very marked. The Liturgy of the Dogs, the Fable of the Senses, the War of the Devas and Asuras, and several other such episodes {} have this mixture of unreality and earnestness, and it finds its perhaps most touching expression in the legend of Nakiketas. And the Buddhists, in their Gâtaka stories, often adopted and developed old Indian tales of a similar sort.

But why should we think that this sort of humour is confined to the Gâtakas? We have a Gâtaka story of the Great King of Glory, certainly based on the Sutta of the same name, for it expressly quotes it, and embodies the numerous details which lead up to the sublime lesson at the end of it{1}. And those details are at least as extravagant as the details in the Râgovâda Gâtaka. Allowing for all the earnestness undeniably animating both the story-teller and the hearers, it is clear that they enjoyed, all the time, the dry humour of the exaggeration and grotesqueness of the details of the story as it went along. Now the details are given only in the Sutta; and omitted, as well known, in the Gâtaka. They build up a gorgeous fairy tale in which the ancient mythology of the sun-myth is brought into play in order to show how the greatest possible majesty and glory of the greatest and best of all possible kings is, after all, but vanity. And the details, here also, in the Sutta, are enlivened by an intentional exaggeration, a designed dry humour, similar to that in the Râgovâda Gâtaka, above referred to.

A similar state of things is found in the Aggañña Sutta, as pointed out above in the Introduction to the Ambattha; in the Kevatta Sutta, translated below; and in many other Suttas. In all of them there is the same exaggeration, the same dry humour, the same restrained art of the story-teller. It is impossible not to see that to the early tellers and hearers of these legends, always striking, often with a special beauty of their own, the unreality of the whole thing was just as evident, and was meant to be as evident, as it is now to us. They knew quite well that the lesson taught was the principal matter, the main point compared with which all others were quite subservient. And it made no difference that, for instance, the Great King of Glory was expressly identified with the Buddha in a former birth. They accepted it all; and entered none the less into the spirit of the legend as legend, because they enjoyed both the lesson and the manner of the telling of it.
And so, I would submit, stands the case also with our present Sutta. The whole legend is obviously invented ad hoc. Its details are not meant to be taken seriously as {} historical fact. The forced twist given to the meaning of the words vidhâ and parikkhâro is not serious. The words could not be used in the new sense assigned. What we have is a sort of pun, a play upon the words, a piece of dialectic smartness, delightful to the hearers then, and unfortunately quite impossible to be rendered adequately, in English prose, for readers now.

And it is quite open to question whether this does not apply as much to the whole Sutta as to the legend of King Wide-realm. The Brahman Kûtadanta (pointed-tooth) is mentioned nowhere else, and is very likely meant to be rather the hero of a tale than an historical character. In that case we should have before us a novelette, an historical romance, in which the Very Reverend Sir Goldstick Sharptooth, lord of the manor of Khânumata,—cruel enough, no doubt, and very keen on being sure that his 'soul' should be as comfortable in the next world as he was, now, in this,—makes up his mind to secure that most desirable end by the murder of a number of his fellow creatures, in honour of a god, or as he would put it, by celebrating a sacrifice.

In order to make certain that not one of the technical details—for to the accurate performance of all these the god was supposed to attach great weight—should be done wrong, the intending sacrificer is ironically represented as doing the very last thing any Brahman of position, under similar circumstances, would think of doing. He goes to the Samana Gotama for advice about the modes of the ritual to be performed at the sacrifice; and about the requisite utensils, the altar-furniture, to be used in making it.

The Buddha's answer is to tell him a wonderful legend of a King Wide-realm, and of the sacrifice he offered—truly the most extraordinary sacrifice imaginable. All its marvellous details, each one settled, be it noted, on the advice of a Brahman, are described with a deliberate extravagance none the less delicious because of the evident earnestness of the moral to be inferred.
The Brahman of our Sutta wants to know the three modes in which the ritual is to be performed. The three 'modes' are declared in the legend (§ 15) to be simply three conditions of mind, or rather one condition of mind at three different times, the harbouring of no regret, either before or during or after the sacrifice, at the expenditure involved. And the material accessories required, the altar-furniture, the priest's outfit, what is that? It is the hearty co-operation with the king of four divisions of his people, the nobles, the officials, the Brahmans, and the householders. That {} makes four articles of furniture. And eight personal qualifications of the king himself. That makes other eight. And four personal qualifications of his advising Brahman make up the total of the sixteen articles required. No living thing, either animal or vegetable, is injured. All the labour is voluntary. And all the world co-operates in adding its share to the largesse of food, on strict vegetarian principles, in which, alone, the sacrifice consists. It is offered on behalf, not only of the king himself, but of all the good. And the king desires to propitiate, not any god, but living men. And the muttering of mystic verses over each article used and over mangled and bleeding bodies of unhappy victims, verses on which all the magic efficacy of a sacrifice had been supposed to depend, is quietly ignored.

It is all ironical, of course—just the very contrary, in every respect, of a typical Vedic sacrifice. And the evident unreality of the legend may be one explanation of the curious fact that the authors of the Gâtaka book (notwithstanding that King Wide-realm's Chaplain is actually identified in the Sutta with the Buddha himself in a previous birth) have not included this professedly Gâtaka story in their collection. This is the only case, so far discovered, in which a similar omission has been made.

Having thus laughed the Brahman ideal of sacrifice out of court with the gentle irony of a sarcastic travesty, the author or authors of the Sutta go on to say what they think a sacrifice ought to be. Far from exalting King Wide-realm's procedure, they put his sacrifice at the very bottom of a long list of sacrifices each better than the other, and leading up to the sweetest and highest of all, which is the attainment of Arahatship.
Here again, except in the last paragraph, there is nothing exclusively Buddhistic. That a sacrifice of the heart is better than a sacrifice of bullocks, the ethical more worthy than any physical sacrifice, is simply the sensible, rational, human view of the matter. The whole long history of the development of Indian thought, as carried on chiefly by Brahmans (however much it may have owed in the earliest period to the nobles and others), shows that they, the more enlightened and cultured of the Brahmans, were not only as fully alive to this truth as any Buddhist, but that they took it all along for granted. Even in the Vedas themselves there is already the germ of this view in the mental attitude as regards Aditi and Varuna. And in the pre-Buddhistic Khândogya, in the mystic identification of the sacrifice with man{1}, we find {} certain moral states placed on an equality with certain parts of the sacrificial procedure. And among these moral states, ahimsâ, the habit of causing no injury to any living thing, is especially mentioned. This comes very near to the Hebrew prophet's: 'I will have mercy, and not sacrifice{1}.' The more characteristically Indian point of view is, no doubt, in the words of the old saying long afterwards taken up into the Mahâbhârata, that it is truth (not mercy) that outweighs a thousand sacrifices{2}. But there is a very great probability that the ahimsâ doctrine, foreshadowed in the Upanishad, and afterwards so extravagantly taken up by the Niganthas, the Gains of the Buddha's time, was also a part of the earlier Gain doctrine, and therefore not only in germ, but as a developed teaching, pre-Buddhistic. Though the Buddhists did not accept this extreme position, there would seem therefore to be no valid reason for doubting the accuracy of the Buddhist tradition that their view of sacrifice was based on a very ancient belief which was, in fact, common ground to the wise, whether inside or outside the ranks of the Brahmans.

Our Sutta is, then, merely the oldest extant expression, in so thorough and uncompromising a way, of an ancient and widely held trend of opinion. On this question, as on the question of caste or social privileges, the early Buddhists took up, and pushed to its logical conclusions, a rational view held also by others. And on this question of sacrifice their party won. The Vedic sacrifices, of animals, had practically been given up when the long struggle between Brahmanism and Buddhism reached its close. Isolated instances of such sacrifices are known even down to the Muhammadan invasion. But the battle was really won by the Buddhists and their allies. And the combined ridicule and earnestness of our Sutta will have had its share in bringing about the victory.
That they did win is a suggestive fact. How could they have done so if the Indians of that time had been, as is so often asserted of them by European writers, more deeply addicted to all manner of ritual than any other nation under heaven, more superstitious, more averse to change in religious ceremonial? There seems to me no reason to believe that they were very different, in these respects, from {}

Greeks or Romans of the same period. On the contrary there was a well marked lay feeling, a wide-spread antagonism to the priests, a real sense of humour, a strong fund of common sense. Above all there was then the most complete and unquestioned freedom of thought and expression in religious matters that the world had yet witnessed. To regard the Indian peoples through Brahman spectacles, to judge them from the tone prevalent in the Srauta and Grihya Sûtras, it would seem impossible that this victory could have been won. But it was won. And our views of Indian history must be modified accordingly.

There is a curious expression in the stock phrase describing the learned Brahman, so often found in the Pitakas, which I have left untranslated in this Sutta, being uncertain as to the meaning in which it was used at the time when our Sutta was composed. It will be instructive, in more ways than one, to collect and consider the other passages in which the word occurs.

Lokâyata is explained by Wilson as 'the system of atheistical philosophy taught by Kârvâka{1},' and by the Petersburg Dictionary as 'Materialism.' Now the description of the good Brahman as put, in the Buddhist Suttas, into the mouth of Brahmans theinselves{2}, mentions Lokâyata as one branch of his learning. The whole paragraph is complimentary. And though the exact connotation of one or two of the other terms is doubtful, they are all descriptive of just those things which a Brahman would have been rightly proud to be judged a master of. It is evident, therefore, that the Dictionary interpretations of the word are quite out of place in this connection.
Yet they are each of them, at least for a later period, well authenticated. Kumârila Bhatta, in his Vârttika (verse 10), charges the Mîmâmsâ system with having been, for the most part, converted into a Lokâyata system, and claims for his own book the merit of bringing it back to theistic lines{3}. Now of course the Mîmâmsists would indignantly deny this. Kumârila, who seems to have been a good deal of a bigot, is here merely hurling at adversaries, who claimed to be as orthodox as himself, a term of abuse. But it is clear that he uses that term in the sense of 'atheistic.' The exact phrase {} would be nâstika, as opposed to his own âstika-patha: that is, the system or the man who says 'there is not,' an infidel. This is somewhat wider than atheist; it comes however, in Kumârila's mouth, to much the same thing.

Sankarâkârya uses the word Lokâyata several times{1}, and always in the same specific sense as the view of those who look upon the soul as identical with the body, as existing only so long as the body exists, not continuing, after death, in a new condition and separate from the body. A very similar, if not indeed the very same view is also controverted in the Brahma-gâlla Sutta (above, ); and is constantly referred to throughout the Pitakas under the stock phrase tam gîvam tam sarîram{2}. But it is never called Lokâyata in the Pitakas. It seems to be the view that there is a soul; but that it is diffused through the body, and dies with it; and is not a separate unity, within the body but not of it, which flies away from the body after death. It is not necessary to suppose that either Sankara or the Buddhists had in their minds any book setting forth a philosophy based on this single proposition, or any actual school using such a book as a manual. It may have been so. But the expressions used point rather to an opinion held by certain thinkers, in union with other opinions, and not expounded in any special treatise. Nor do either the Buddhists or Sankara pretend to set out that opinion in full. They are dealing with it only so far as is necessary to enforce their own contrary positions. And though 'materialist,' as a rough and ready translation of Sankara's Lokâyatika, gives a good idea, to a European reader, of the sort of feeling conveyed to Sankara's Indian readers, yet it is not quite exact. European 'materialists' (and one or two may be discovered by careful search) do not hold the view which Sankara describes to his Lokâyatikas.
Buddhaghosa in our passage has: Lokâya tam vukkati vitanda-vâda-sattham,' the Lokâyata is a text-book of the Vitandas (Sophists){3}.' This does not help us much; but previously, , he explains Lokakkhâyikâ as follows: 'Foolish talk according to the Lokâyata, that is the Vitanda, such as: "By whom was this world created? By {} such a one. A crow is white from the whiteness of its bones; cranes are red from the redness of their blood."'

Other Pâli comments on the word are the Abhidhâna Padîpikâ (verse 112), which says simply, probably following Buddhaghosa: Vitanda-sattham viññeyyam yam tam lokâyatam. The date of this work is the middle of the twelfth century A.D. Much clearer is Aggavamsa in the Sadda-nîti, which is a generation older. He says{1}:

Loko ti bâla-loko; ettha âyatanti ussâhanti vâyamanti vâdassâdenâti lokâyatam. Ayatati vâ tena loko, na yatati na îhati vâ, lokâyatam. Tam hi gandham nissâya sattâ puñña-kiriyâya kittam na uppâdenti. Lokâyatam nâma: sabbam ukkhittham sabbam anukkhittham seto kâko kâlo bako iminâ va iminâ va kâranenâti evam-âdi-niratthaka-karana-patisamyuttam titthiya-sattham, yam loke Vitanda-sattham vukkati, yam sandhâya Bodhisatto asamadhuro Vidhura-pandito:

Na seve Lokâyatikam, n'etam puññâya vaddhanam ti âha.
'Loko means the common world. Lokâyata means: "on that they âyatanti;" that is, they exert themselves about it, strive about it, through the pleasure they take in discussion. Or perhaps it means: "the world does not yatati by it;" that is, does not depend on it, move on by it. For living beings do not stir up their hearts to right-doing by reason of that book{2}. Now the Lokâyata is the book of the unbelievers (of the Titthiyas) full of such useless disputations as the following: "All is impure; all is not impure; the crow is white, the crane is black; and for this reason or for that"—the book known in the world as the Vitanda-sattha, of which the Bodisat, the incomparable leader, Vidhura the pandit, said: "Follow not the Lokâyata, that works not for progress in merit."'

{}

The verse quoted—certainly a very old one—is in the Vidhûra Gâtaka{1}, and the commentator there says: 'This means: Follow not Lokâyata disputation, Vitanda chatter, concerned with useless matters which neither give paradise nor lead men on into the Path.'

Sankara says: 'There is thus, according to them, no soul, separate from the body, and capable of going to the heavenly world or obtaining release{2}: The unknown author of the Gâtaka commentary, who certainly wrote however in the fifth century, gives the allied proposition as his own conclusion from the uselessness of their discussions, not as the opinion of the Lokâyatikas themselves. It would be an easy transition from the one expression to the other. And the difference is suggestive, especially in the light of other passages in both Sanskrit and Pâli books.

For while the Mahâbhârata has precisely the same use of the word as the Pitakas, later works use it in a manner approximating more and more nearly to that of Sankara. The passage in the Mahâbhârata is at I, 2889 ( = Hari Vamsa 14O68), where, at the end of a list of the accomplishments of learned Brahmans, they are said to be 'masters of the Lokâyata. Being mentioned, as in our passage, at the end of the list, it is plain that this branch of learning is meant to be taken as of minor importance. But it is not yet considered unfavourably, much less opprobiously. And the Petersburg Dictionary, from which I take most of these references, points out that the word may possibly, in this passage, have some other meaning than 'Materialism.'
The Râmâyana goes further. There the word is also in a list, but the Laukâyatikâ are blamed as 'clever in useless things{3}.' So in the Saddharma Pundarîka the good Mahâyânist does not serve or court or wait upon (among other low people) 'the Lokâyatikas who know by heart the Lokâyata mantras (mystic verses){4}.' The date of {} this may be a century or two after Christ. And in the Gain book, entitled the Bhagavatî, which Weber puts at about the same time, the Lokâyatikas occur in a similar list of blameworthy persons{1}.

In the Milinda, which is probably somewhat earlier, the word is mentioned twice. One passage ascribes a knowledge of the Lokâyata (in a sentence expanded from the very clause in our Sutta) to the hero of the story, Nâgasena{2}. Here the Milinda is quite at the old standpoint. The other passage is in a parenthesis{3} in which the sub-hero, the king, is described as 'fond of wordy disputations, and in the habit of wrangling against the quibbles of Lokâyatas and Vitandas.' This may possibly be a gloss which has crept into the text. But in any case it is evidence that, at the time when it was written, the later view of the meaning of the word had become prevalent.

In the long list of various sorts of hermits given in the Harsha Karita the Lokâyatikas come among others who would be classed by Vedântists as heretics{4}. We cannot, unfortunately, draw any certain conclusion as to whether or not there were actually any Lokâyatikas living in Bâna's time. In expanding previous descriptions of the concourse of hermits in the forest, he may be merely including in his list all the sorts of such people he had ever heard or read of.

Lastly, the Lokâyata system is, in various works of the fourteenth century and later, appropriately fathered on Kârvâka, a mythical character in the Mahâbhârata, an ogre, who appears in the garb of a Brahman{5}. It is not certain whether this is due to the ingenuity of a friend or a foe. In either case, like the fathering of the later Sânkhya on the ancient sage Kapila; or the fathering of the collection of fables, made by Planudes in the fourteenth century A.D., upon Aesop the story-teller of the fifth century B.C., it has been eminently successful, has deceived many, and is still widely accepted.
Pending the discovery of other texts, and especially of {} such as are not only the testimony of opponents, the best working hypothesis to explain the above facts seems to be that about 500 B.C. the word Lokâyata was used in a complimentary way as the name of a branch of Brahman learning, and probably meant Nature-lore—wise sayings, riddles, rhymes, and theories handed down by tradition as to cosmogony, the elements, the stars, the weather, scraps of astronomy, of elementary physics, even of anatomy, and knowledge of the nature of precious stones, and of birds and beasts and plants. To be a master of such lore was then considered by no means unbecoming to a learned Brahman, though it ranked, of course, below his other studies. At that time there was no school so called, and no special handbook of such knowledge. But portions of it trenched so closely upon, were so often useful as metaphor in discussing the higher and more especially priestly wisdom, that we find sayings that may well have belonged to it preserved in the pre-Buddhistic literature. Such passages, for instance, as Bri. Âr. Up. III, 8, 3, Khând. Up. IV, 17, 1, and VI, 2-7, on the worlds and on cosmogony; Khând. III. on the colour of the rays of the sun; Bri. Âr. Up. II, 1, 5-7, and III, 7, 3-7, on the elements; Ait. Âr. III, 2, 1, 4, and others, on the parts of the body; and many others of a similar kind on these and other subjects might be cited as examples.

The amount then existing of such lore was too small to make a fair proficiency in it incompatible with other knowledge. As the amount of it grew larger, and several branches of natural science were regularly studied, a too exclusive acquaintance with Lokâyata became looked upon with disfavour. Even before the Christian era masters of the dark sayings, the mysteries, of such mundane lore were marked with sophists and casuists. This feeling is increasingly vouched for in the early centuries of our era. In the fifth century we hear of a book, presumably on the riddles and mysteries of the craft, as it is called 'a book of quibbles.' Various branches of mundane science had been by that time fairly well worked out. Lokâyata was still the name for the old Nature-lore, on the same level as folk-lore, and in contradistinction, not only to theosophy on the one hand, but to such science as there was on the other.
In the first half of the eighth century Kumârila uses the word as a mere term of abuse, and in the sense of infidel, of his equally orthodox opponents, the Mîmâmsists. And shortly afterwards Sankara, in setting forth his theory of the soul, controverts a curious opinion which he ascribes to Lokâyatikas,—possibly wrongly, as the very same opinion {} was controverted ages before in the Pitakas, and not there called Lokâyata, though the word was in use in Pitaka times.

Finally in the fourteenth century the great theologian Sâyana-Mâdhava has a longish chapter in which he ascribes to the Lokâyatikas the most extreme forms of the let-us-eat-and-drink-for-to-morrow-we-die view of life; of Pyrrhonism in philosophy, and of atheism in theology. The Lokâyata had no doubt, at that time, long ceased to exist. His very able description has all the appearance of being drawn from his own imagination; and is chiefly based on certain infidel doggrel verses which cannot possibly have formed a part of the Lokâyata studied by the Brahmans of old{1}. It is the ideal of what will happen to the man of some intellect, but morally so depraved that he will not accept the theosophist position.

Throughout the whole story we have no evidence of any one who called himself a Lokâyatika, or his own knowledge Lokâyata. After the early use of the word in some such sense as Nature-lore, folk-lore, there is a tone of unreality over all the statements we have. And of the real existence of a school of thought, or of a system of philosophy that called itself by the name there is no trace. In the middle period the riddles and quibbles of the Nature-lorists are despised. In the last period the words Lokâyata, Lokâyatika, become mere hobby horses, pegs on which certain writers can hang the views that they impute to their adversaries, and give them, in doing so, an odious name.

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V. KÛTADANTA SUTTA.

[THE WRONG SACRIFICE AND THE RIGHT.]

Thus have I heard. The Blessed One once, when going on a tour through Magadhâ, with a great multitude of the brethren, with about five hundred brethren, came to a Brahman village in Magadhâ called Khânumata. And there at Khânumata he lodged in the Ambalatthikâ pleasaunce{1}.

Now at that time the Brahman Kûtadanta was dwelling at Khânumata, a place teeming with life, with much grassland and woodland and water and corn, on a royal domain presented him by Seniya Bimbisâra the king of Magadhâ, as a royal gift, with power over it as if he were the king.

And just then a great sacrifice was being got ready on behalf of Kûtadanta the Brahman. And a hundred bulls, and a hundred steers, and a hundred heifers, and a hundred goats, and a hundred rams had been brought to the post for the sacrifice.

Now the Brahmans and householders of Khânumata heard the news of the arrival of the Samana Gotama{2}. And they began to leave Khânumata in companies and in bands to go to the Ambalatthikâ pleasaunce.

And just then Kûtadanta the Brahman had gone apart to the upper terrace of his house for his siesta; and seeing the people thus go by. he asked his doorkeeper the reason. And the doorkeeper told him{3}.

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Then Kûtadanta thought: 'I have heard that the Samana Gotama understands about the successful performance of a sacrifice with its threefold method and its sixteen accessory instruments. Now I don't know all this, and yet I want to carry out a sacrifice. It would be well for me to go to the Samana Gotama, and ask him about it.'

So he sent his doorkeeper to the Brahmans and householders of Khânumata, to ask them to wait till he could go with them to call upon the Blessed One.

But there were at that time a number of Brahmans staying at Khânumata to take part in the great sacrifice. And when they heard this they went to Kûtadanta, and persuaded him, on the same grounds as the Brahmans had laid before Sonadanda, not to go. But he answered them in the same terms as Sonadanda had used to those Brahmans. Then they were satisfied, and went with him to call upon the Blessed One{1}.

And when he was seated there Kûtadanta the Brahman told the Blessed One what he had heard{2}, and requested him to tell him about success in performing a sacrifice in its three modes{3} and with its accessory articles of furniture of sixteen kinds{4}.

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'Well then, O Brahman, give ear and listen attentively and I will speak.'

'Very well, Sir,' said Kûtadanta in reply; and the Blessed One spake as follows:— 'Long ago, O Brahman, there was a king by name Wide-realm (Mahâ Vigita){1}, mighty, with great wealth and large property; with stores of silver and gold, of aids to enjoyment{2}, of goods and corn; with his treasure-houses and his garners full. Now when King Wide-realm was once sitting alone in meditation he became anxious at the thought: "I have in abundance all the good things a mortal can enjoy. The whole wide circle of the earth is mine by conquest to possess. 'Twere well if I were to offer a great sacrifice that should ensure me weal and welfare for many days."

'And he had the Brahman, his chaplain, called; and telling him all that he had thought, he said: "So I would fain, O Brahman, offer a great sacrifice—let the venerable one instruct me how—for my weal and my welfare for many days."
'Thereupon the Brahman who was chaplain said to the king: "The king's country, Sire, is harassed and harried. There are dacoits abroad who pillage the villages and townships, and who make the roads unsafe. Were the king, so long as that is so, to levy a fresh tax, verily his majesty would be acting wrongly. But perchance his majesty might think: 'I'll soon put a stop to these scoundrels' game by degradation and banishment, and fines and bonds and death!' But their licence cannot be satisfactorily put a stop to so. The remnant left unpunished would still go on harassing the realm. Now there is one method to adopt to {} put a thorough end to this disorder. Whosoever there be in the king's realm who devote themselves to keeping cattle and the farm, to them let his majesty the king give food and seed-corn. Whosoever there be in the king's realm who devote themselves to trade, to them let his majesty the king give capital. Whosoever there be in the king's realm who devote themselves to government service{1}, to them let his majesty the king give wages and food. Then those men, following each his own business, will no longer harass the realm; the king's revenue will go up; the country will be quiet and at peace; and the populace, pleased one with another and happy, dancing their children in their arms. will dwell with open doors."

'Then King Wide-realm, O Brahman, accepted the word of his chaplain, and did as he had said. And those men, following each his business, harassed the realm no more. And the king's revenue went up. And the country became quiet and at peace. And the populace, pleased one with another and happy, dancing their children in their arms, dwelt with open doors.

'So King Wide-realm had his chaplain called, and said: "The disorder is at an end. The country is at peace. I want to offer that great sacrifice—let the venerable one instruct me how—for my weal and my welfare for many days."

'Then let his majesty the king send invitations to whomsoever there may be in his realm who are Kshatriyas, vassals of his, either in the country or the towns; or who are ministers and officials of his, either in the country or the towns; or who are Brahmans of position, either in the country or the towns; or who are householders of substance, either in the country or the towns, saying: "I intend to offer a great sacrifice. Let the venerable ones give their sanction to what will be to me for weal and welfare for many days."
'Then King Wide-realm, O Brahman, accepted the {} word of his chaplain, and did as he had said, And they each—Kshatriyas and ministers and Brahmans and householders—made alike reply: "Let his majesty the king celebrate the sacrifice. The time is suitable, O king{1}!"

'Thus did these four, as colleagues by consent, become wherewithal to furnish forth that sacrifice{2}, 'King Wide-realm was gifted in the following eight ways:—

'He was well born on both sides, on the mother's side and on the father's, of pure descent back through seven generations, and no slur was cast upon him, and no reproach, in respect of birth—

'He was handsome, pleasant in appearance, inspiring trust, gifted with great beauty of complexion, fair in colour, fine in presence, stately to behold—

'He was mighty, with great wealth, and large property, with stores of silver and gold, of aids to enjoyment, of goods and corn, with his treasure-houses and his garners full—

'He was powerful, in command of an army, loyal and disciplined, in four divisions (of elephants, cavalry, chariots, and bowmen), burning up, methinks, his enemies by his very glory—

'He was a believer, and generous, a noble giver, keeping open house, a welling spring s whence Samanas and Brahmans, the poor and the wayfarers, beggars, and petitioners might draw, a doer of good deeds—

'He was learned in all kinds of knowledge—

'He knew the meaning of what had been said, and could explain: "This saying has such and such a meaning, and that such and such"—

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'He was intelligent, expert and wise, and able to think out things present or past or future{1}—

'And these eight gifts of his, too, became wherewithal to furnish forth that sacrifice.
'The Brahman his chaplain was gifted in the following four ways:—

'He was well born on both sides, on the mother's and on the father's, of pure descent back through seven generations, with no slur cast upon him, and no reproach in respect of birth—

'He was a student repeater who knew the mystic verses by heart, master of the Three Vedas, with the indices, the ritual, the phonology, and the exegesis (as a fourth ), and the legends as a fifth, learned in the idioms and the grammar, versed in Lokâyata (Nature-lore) and in the thirty marks on the body of a great man—

'He was virtuous, established in virtue, gifted with virtue that had grown great—

'He was intelligent, expert, and wise; foremost, or at most the second, among those who hold out the ladle.'

'Thus these four gifts of his, too, became wherewithal to furnish forth that sacrifice.
'And further, O Brahman, the chaplain, before the sacrifice had begun, explained to King Wide-realm the three modes:

'Should his majesty the king, before starting on the great sacrifice, feel any such regret as: "Great, alas, will be the portion of my wealth used up herein," let not the king harbour such regret. Should his majesty the king, whilst he is offering the great sacrifice, feel any such regret as: "Great, alas, will be the portion of my wealth used up herein," let not the king harbour such regret. Should his majesty the king, when the great sacrifice has been offered, feel any such regret as: "Great, alas, has been the portion of my wealth used up herein," let not the king harbour such regret:

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'Thus did the chaplain, O Brahman, before the sacrifice had begun, explain to King Wide-realm the three modes.

'And further, O Brahman, the chaplain, before the sacrifice had begun, in order to prevent any compunction that might afterwards, in ten ways, arise as regards those who had taken part therein, said: "Now there will come to your sacrifice, Sire, men who destroy the life of living things, and men who refrain therefrom—men who take what has not been given, and men who refrain therefrom—men who act evilly in respect of lusts, and men who refrain therefrom—men who speak lies, and men who do not—men who slander, and men who do not-men who speak rudely, and men who do not—men who chatter vain things, and men who refrain therefrom—[139, 140] men who covet, and men who covet not—men who harbour illwill, and men who harbour it not—men whose views are wrong, and men whose views are right. Of each of these let them, who do evil, alone with their evil. For them who do well let your majesty offer, for them, Sire, arrange the rites, them let the king gratify, in them shall your heart within find peace."

'And further, O Brahman, the chaplain, whilst the king was carrying out the sacrifice, instructed and aroused and incited and gladdened his heart in sixteen ways: "Should there be people who should say of the king, as he is offering the sacrifice: 'King Wide-realm is celebrating sacrifice without having invited the four classes of his subjects, without himself having the eight personal gifts, without the assistance of a Brahman who has the four personal gifts;' then would they speak not according to the fact. For the consent of the four classes has been obtained, the king has the eight, and his Brahman has the four, personal gifts. With regard to each and everyone of these sixteen conditions the king may rest assured that it has been fulfilled. He can sacrifice, and be glad, and possess his heart in peace{1}."

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'And further, O Brahman, at that sacrifice neither were any oxen slain, neither goats, nor fowls, nor fatted pigs, nor were any kinds of living creatures put to death. No trees were cut down to be used as posts, no Dabbha grasses mown to strew around the sacrificial spot. And the slaves and messengers and workmen there employed were driven neither by rods nor fear, nor carried on their work weeping with tears upon their faces. Whoso chose to help, he worked; whoso chose not to help, worked not. What each chose to do, he did; what they chose not to do, that was left undone. With ghee, and oil, and butter, and milk, and honey, and sugar only was that sacrifice accomplished.

'And further, O Brahman, the Kshatriya vassals, and the ministers and officials, and the Brahmans of position, and the householders of substance, whether of the country or of the towns, went to King Wide-realm, taking with them much wealth, and said: "This abundant wealth, Sire, have we brought hither for the king's use. Let his majesty accept it at our hands!"

'"Sufficient wealth have I, my friends, laid up, the produce of taxation that is just. Do you keep yours, and take away more with you!"

'When they had thus been refused by the king, they went aside, and considered thus one with the other: "It would not beseem us now, were we to take this wealth away again to our own homes. King Wide-realm is offering a great sacrifice. Let us too make an after-sacrifice!"

'So the Kshatriyas established a continual largesse to the east of the king's sacrificial pit, and the officials to the south thereof, and the Brahmans to the west thereof, and the householders to the north thereof. And the things given, and the manner of their gift, was in all respects like unto the great sacrifice of King Wide-realm himself.
'Thus, O Brahman, there was a fourfold co-operation, and King Wide-realm was gifted with {} eight personal gifts, and his officiating Brahman with four. And there were three modes of the giving of that sacrifice. This, O Brahman, is what is called the due celebration of a sacrifice in its threefold mode and with its furniture of sixteen kinds!'— And when he had thus spoken, those Brahmans lifted up their voices in tumult, and said: 'How glorious the sacrifice, how pure its accomplishment!' But Kûtadanta the Brahman sat there in silence.

Then those Brahmans said to Kûtadanta: 'Why do you not approve the good words of the Samana Gotama as well-said?'

'I do not fail to approve: for he who approves not as well-said that which has been well spoken by the Samana Gotama, verily his head would split in twain. But I was considering that the Samana Gotama does not say: "Thus have I heard," nor "Thus behoves it to be," but says only "Thus it was then," or "It was like that then." So I thought: "For a certainty the Samana Gotama himself must at that time have been King Wide-realm, or the Brahman who officiated for him at that sacrifice. Does the venerable Gotama admit that he who celebrates such a sacrifice, or causes it, to be celebrated, is reborn at the dissolution of the body, after death, into some state of happiness in heaven?'

'Yes, O Brahman, that I admit. And at that time I was the Brahman who, as chaplain, had that sacrifice performed.'

'Is there, O Gotama, any other sacrifice less difficult and less troublesome, with more fruit and more advantage still than this?'

'Yes, O Brahman, there is.'

'And what, O Gotama, may that be?'

'The perpetual gifts kept up in a family where they are given specifically to virtuous recluses.
'But what is the reason, O Gotama, and what the cause, why such perpetual givings specifically to virtuous recluses, and kept up in a family, are less difficult and troublesome, of greater fruit and greater {} advantage than that other sacrifice with its three modes and its accessories of sixteen kinds?'

'To the latter sort of sacrifice, O Brahman, neither will the Arahats go, nor such as have entered on the Arahat way. And why not? Because at it beating with sticks takes place, and seizing by the throat{1}. But they will go to the former, where such things are not. And therefore are such perpetual gifts above the other sort of sacrifice.'

'And is there, O Gotama, any other sacrifice less difficult and less troublesome, of greater fruit and of greater advantage than either of these?'

'Yes, O Brahman, there is.'

'And what, O Gotama, may that be?'

'The putting up of a dwelling place (Vihâra) on behalf of the Order in all the four directions.'
'And is there, O Gotama, any other sacrifice less difficult and less troublesome, of greater fruit and of greater advantage than each and all of these three?'

'Yes, O Brahman, there is.'

'And what, O Gotama, may that be?'

'He who with trusting heart takes a Buddha as his guide, and the Truth, and the Order—that is a sacrifice better than open largesse, better than perpetual alms, better than the gift of a dwelling place.'

'And is there, O Gotama, any other sacrifice less difficult and less troublesome of greater fruit and of greater advantage than all these four?'

'When a man with trusting heart takes upon himself the precepts—abstinence from destroying life; abstinence from taking what has not been given; abstinence from evil conduct in respect of lusts; abstinence from lying words; abstinence from strong, intoxicating, maddening drinks, the root of carelessness—that is a sacrifice better than open largesse, better than perpetual alms, better than the gift of dwelling places, better than accepting guidance.'

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'And is there, O Gotama, any other sacrifice less difficult and less troublesome, of greater fruit and of greater advantage than all these five?'

'Yes, O Brahman, there is.'

'And what, O Gotama, may that be?'

[The answer is the long passage from the Sâmañña-phala, § 40, (of the text), down to § 75 (), on the First Ghâna, as follows;—
The Introductory paragraphs on the appearance of a Buddha, his preaching, the conversion of a hearer, and his renunciation of the world.
The Sîlas (minor morality).
The paragraph on Confidence.
The paragraph on 'Guarded is the door of his senses.'
The paragraph on 'Mindful and self-possessed.'
The paragraph on Content.
The paragraph on Solitude.
The paragraphs on the Five Hindrances.
The description of the First Ghâna.]

'This, O Brahman, is a sacrifice less difficult and less troublesome, of greater fruit and greater advantage than the previous sacrifices.'

[The same is then said of the Second, Third, and Fourth Ghânas, in succession (as in the Sâmanna-phala, §§ 77-82), and of the Insight arising from knowledge (ibid. §§ 83, 84), and further (omitting direct mention either way of §§ 85-96 inclusive) of the knowledge of the destruction of the Âsavas, the deadly intoxications or floods (ibid. §§ 97-98).]

'And there is no sacrifice man can celebrate, O Brahman, higher and sweeter than this,' And when he had thus spoken, Kûtadanta the Brahman said to the Blessed One:
'Most excellent, O Gotama, are the words of thy mouth, most excellent! Just as if a man were to set up {} what has been thrown down, or were to reveal that which has been hidden away, or were to point out the right road to him who has gone astray, or were to bring a light into the darkness so that those who had eyes could see external forms—just even so has the truth been made known to me in many a figure by the venerable Gotama. I, even I, betake myself to the venerable Gotama as my guide, to the Doctrine and the Order. May the venerable One accept me as a disciple, as one who, from this day forth, as long as life endures, has taken him as his guide. And I myself, O Gotama, will have the seven hundred bulls, and the seven hundred steers, and the seven hundred heifers, and the seven hundred goats, and the seven hundred rams set free. To them I grant their life. Let them eat green grass and drink fresh water, and may cool breezes waft around them.'

Then the Blessed One discoursed to Kûtadanta the Brahman in due order; that is to say, he spake to him of generosity, of right conduct, of heaven, of the danger, the vanity, and the defilement of lusts, of the advantages of renunciation. And when the Blessed One became aware that Kûtadanta the Brahman had become prepared, softened, unprejudiced, upraised, and believing in heart, then did he proclaim the doctrine the Buddhas alone have won; that is to say, the doctrine of sorrow, of its origin, of its cessation, and of the Path. And just as a clean cloth, with all stains in it washed away, will readily take the dye, just even so did Kûtadanta the Brahman, even while seated there, obtain the pure and spotless Eye for the Truth, and he knew: 'Whatsoever has a beginning, in that is inherent also the necessity of dissolution.'

And then the Brahman Kûtadanta, as one who had seen the Truth, had mastered it, understood it, dived deep down into it, who had passed beyond doubt, and put away perplexity and gained full confidence, who had become dependent on no other for his knowledge of the teaching of the Master, addressed the Blessed One and said:

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'May the venerable Gotama grant me the favour of taking his to-morrow's meal with me, and also the members of the Order with him.'

And the Blessed One signified, by silence, his consent. Then the Brahman Kûtadanta, seeing that the Blessed One had accepted, rose from his seat, and keeping his right towards him as he passed, he departed thence. And at daybreak he had sweet food, both hard and soft, made ready at the pit prepared for his sacrifice, and had the time announced to the Blessed One: 'It is time, O Gotama; and the meal is ready.' And the Blessed One, who had dressed early in the morning, put on his outer robe, and taking his bowl" with him, went with the brethren to Kûtadanta's sacrificial pit, and sat down there on the seat prepared for him. And Kûtadanta the Brahman satisfied the brethren with the Buddha at their head, with his own hand, with sweet food, both hard and soft, till they refused any more. And when the Blessed One had finished his meal, and cleansed the bowl and his hands, Kûtadanta the Brahman took a low seat and seated himself beside him. And when he was thus seated the Blessed One instructed and aroused and incited and gladdened Kûtadanta the Brahman with religious discourse; and then arose from his seat and departed thence.

Kûtadanta Sutta is ended.

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INTRODUCTION

MAHÂLI SUTTA.

THE form of this Sutta is remarkable. We have two distinct subjects discussed. First the question of the ability to see heavenly sights and hear heavenly sounds being raised, the Buddha says that it is not for the sake of acquiring such powers that people join the Order under him. And being asked what their object then is, he gradually leads the questioner on to Arahatship, as the aim, along the Eightfold Path. There the Sutta might appropriately have ended. But the Buddha himself then raises a totally different question—whether the soul and the body are the same. And though, for the reason stated below, he gives no answer, he leads the discourse again up to Arahatship along the series of mental states set out in the Sâmañña-phala.

This second part of our Dialogue might form a separate Sutta, and it is in fact added, as a Sutta by itself, to the present division of the Dialogues. Why then is it also included here? Buddhaghosa's answer is that the young noble Mahâli, who raises the first point, was known to harbour the heresy that there is a soul, and that it has form. (The words the commentator uses are very short, and the context must, I think, be supplied from the passage translated above, § 10 on .) It was to clear his mind of this notion that the Buddha specially raised the second point.

However this may be, the Sutta must have been already a double one, must have had its present form, before it received a place in that division of the Buddhist scriptures where it now stands. Each Sutta in that division incorporates the whole of the very ancient tract called the Sîlas. The division is therefore called the Sîla Vagga. And no Sutta not containing the Sîlas can belong to it. Our Sutta only contains the Sîlas in the second part. That part, therefore, must have belonged to it when the dialogues were arranged as they now stand.
The question raised in that second part is one of a group of questions on which primitive Buddhism expresses no {} opinion. They are called the Ten Avyâkatâni, the Indeterminates, points not determined. Besides being often mentioned in the Dialogues translated in the present work and elsewhere, they form the subject of the Avyâkata Samyutta (No. 44 in vol. iv of the Samyutta Nikâya), and they are as follows{1}:—

1, 2. Whether the world is eternal or not.

3, 4. Whether the world is infinite or not.

5, 6. Whether the soul is the same as the body, or distinct from it{2}.

7-10. Whether a man who has attained to the truth (a Tathâgata) exists, or not, and in any way, after death.

There are others mentioned occasionally by themselves; but these form the usual group. Of them, those numbered 1-4 and 7-10 are speculations already condemned in the Brahma-gâla (above, pp. 27 foll., pp. 35 foll., and respectively). The remaining two, those numbered 5 and 6, form the subject of the Gâliya, incorporated in our present Sutta.
The position taken by the primitive Buddhists as to these Indeterminates is so often referred to that it undoubtedly was an important item in the Buddha's actual belief. It is rendered very clear by the old legend put into the Buddha's mouth in the Udâna just quoted. There the various non-Buddhist teachers of the time are represented as expressing strong opinions one way or the other on these questions; and as getting so excited about them that they came to blows. Gotama thereupon tells a story how, in ancient days, a similar riot having taken place, the king had all the blind men in the city brought together, and had an elephant brought in. Each of the blind men touches a different part of the elephant. The king then asks them to explain what an elephant is like. He who had felt the head said it was like a water-pot. He who had felt the ear said it was like a winnowing basket. He who had felt the tusk said it was like a plough-share. He who had felt the trunk said it was like a plough-handle. He who had felt the body said it was like a granary. He who had felt its legs said it was like a pillar. He who had felt its back said it {} was like a mortar. He who had felt its tail said it was like a pestle. He who had felt its bristles said it was like a broom. And each one was so sure he was right that they clamoured one against the other, and came to blows, to the amusement of the king. Then comes the moral;—

'In such points Brahmans and recluses stick Wrangling on them, they violently discuss— Poor folk! they see but one side of the shield!'

The inference is obvious. To discuss such questions is Mere speculation, useless, because it is based on insufficient evidence. This is the philosophic position; and it resembles very closely the position taken up, in the West, many centuries afterwards, by Hume and his followers. And, as usual in primitive Buddhism, the ethical corollary is very emphatically insisted upon. It is several times pointed out in the Dialogues{1} of these ten speculations that they—

'The jungle, the desert, the puppet show, the writhing, the entanglement, of speculation—are accompanied by sorrow, by wrangling, by resentment, by the fever of excitement; they conduce neither to detachment of heart, nor to freedom from lusts, nor to tranquillity, nor to peace, nor to wisdom, nor to the insight of the higher stages of the Path, nor to Arahatship.'

In other words the speculations, being based on insufficient evidence, are not only useless—they are also, therefore, wrong; that is, from the Buddhist point of view, a disadvantage in the struggle towards the only aim worth striving for—the perfection and emancipation of Arahatship.

As for the special point of our Sutta—the lesson that no wise man will condescend to discuss the question whether the soul is, or is not, the same as the body—it must be remembered that the negative is the view now known to be so widely, indeed universally prevalent among unthinking people throughout the world that it was almost certainly held also in India. The general opinion about the soul in the pre-Buddhistic Upanishads is somewhat different. There (to judge by the passages set out in my article in the J. R. A. S. for January 1899) it is looked upon as being, at least during life, smaller than the body, though after death, when it flies away from the body through an aperture in the top of the head, it was apparently regarded as a subtle and very impalpable, but still material, double of the body of the deceased.
It was the refusal to allow any place for this universal {} belief in a semi-material soul in his own system that is the most striking, and perhaps the most original feature in Gotama's teaching. No other religion of which we have sufficient records to enable us to form an opinion on the point has been constructed without the 'soul.' Where the others said 'soul,' Gotama said usually 'Action,' which comes to much the same as character.

In this respect he came very near to our modern use of the word in such expressions as 'a high-souled man' or 'a soul for music.' And it is worth calling attention to the fact that even in Shakspere more than half the times the word is used it is in this secondary, ethical, emotional sense. Even in the old authorised translation of our Bible, in which the word occurs altogether 449 times, it is used 55 times merely in the sense of person{1}, only 85 times in the animistic sense, and 306 times in the sense of emotional or intellectual qualities or disposition{2}.

This will make Gotama's position, which is really very simple; more clear. He rejected entirety the use of the word in the old animistic sense. He retained it in a personal sense, in the meaning of 'oneself, himself,' &c.{3} And though, of course, be acknowledged the reality of the emotional and intellectual dispositions, he refused absolutely to look upon them as a unity.

The position is so absolute, so often insisted on, so fundamental to the right understanding of primitive Buddhism, that it is essential there should be no mistake about it. Yet the position is also so original, so fundamentally opposed to what is usually understood as religious belief, both in India and elsewhere, that there is great temptation to attempt to find a loophole through which at least a covert or esoteric belief in the soul and in future life (that is of course of a soul), can be recognised, in some sort of way, as part of so widely accepted a religious system. There is no loophole, and the efforts to find one have always met with unswerving opposition, both in the Pitakas themselves and in extra-canonical works{4}.

{}

Our available records are not at present sufficient to enable us to judge either of the numbers, or of the importance, of those Buddhists who made such attempts. But it is clear from the tone of the first chapter of the Kathâ Vatthu, and from the express statements of the commentary on it, that there were such Buddhists as early as the time of Asoka. They belonged to two out of the eighteen schools of thought which had then arisen. The names of these schools are the Sammitiyâ and the Vaggi-puttakâ{1}. We may yet hope to recover a work which will contain their arguments in their own words. But if the opinion condemned at pp. 14-19 of the Kathâ Vatthu be really theirs, as the commentator declares it is, then it would seem that they held a view practically the same as that opinion of Mahâli, which the Buddha, in our Sutta, goes out of his way to raise in the form of a question, and to put aside as unworthy of discussion.

The expression sambodhi-parâyano used in this Sutta, § 13, has been hitherto misunderstood.

The Buddhist ideal is a subjective state to be reached, in this world, by going along an eightfold path, so called because of the eight good qualities or characteristics which make up its eight parts. Progress along this path is divided into four stages in which certain evil dispositions, the ten so-called Bonds, are got rid of. The Sambodhi is the insight, wisdom, intelligence, awakening, which is essential to the three higher stages of this state of Arahatship. And what is connoted by the term can best, perhaps, be understood by bearing in mind its seven constituent parts, the Sambogghangâ—self-possession, investigation into the truth, energy, calm, joy, concentration, and magnanimity.

In describing the first and lowest of the four stages of the Path, it is always stated (Dîgha I, 156; M. P. S. II, 27; A. II, 238, &c.) of the disciple—not that he has then attained the sambodhi, he has only attained abhisamaya—but that he is sambodhi-parâyano. Childers (sub voce parâyano) explains this as 'having the Four Truths as his support.' But Buddhaghosa (Sum. I, 313) says: 'He has the sambodhi—by which is meant that of the three higher stages—as his furthermost aim; in other words, he will attain to that.'
Buddhaghosa's explanation is the only one possible in {} the context, and is confirmed by every other passage in the Pâli Pitakas where the word sambodhi has been traced. It never means the wisdom of a Buddha, but always the insight of the higher stages of the path to Arahatship. But it is necessary to point this out because the distinction is of the first importance for the history of Buddhism; and also because the erroneous rendering of Burnouf has been followed by Childers in the Dictionaty, sub voce sambodhi ('attainment of Buddhaship, Buddhahood'), and has not been corrected by any of the distinguished scholars who have discussed the meaning of Asoka's eighth edict in which the word occurs{1}. The king there says that he 'set out for the sambodhi.' If this means that he had started, in his own opinion, along the line of the Pârâmitâs, towards the attainment, in some future birth, of Buddhahood, then it is most interesting and important as giving us the earliest mention of a doctrine not found in the Pâli Pitakas, and entirely opposed to their view of Buddhism. But the word does not necessarily imply this, nor does the context require it. The doctrine spoken of with contempt, by the Mahâyânist doctors, as the 'Lesser Vehicle' is quite possible here, and more in accordance with all the rest of the Asoka expressions. There would seem to be no sufficient reason why we should not understand Asoka to mean that he had started, in his own opinion, along the Eightfold Path, towards the attainment, doubtless in some future birth, of Arahatship. Whether this be so or not, this is the only meaning of the word so far found in the Pitakas.
And further, this entering on the Path—the Eightfold Path to the wisdom of the Arahat—is a quite different thing from becoming a Buddhist. There are numerous passages where the very nature of the discourse held not only to laymen (upâsakas), but even to members of the Order (bhikkhus), shows that they were not supposed to have attained as yet to the state of mind described as 'entering upon the Path.' Both the rules of the Order, and the precepts laid down for laymen, are, from the Pitaka point of view, on a different plane altogether, lower than, apart from, that of the Path. Acting up to those rules, carrying out those precepts, can never even result in 'conversion' without the awakening of the new life. It is therefore very doubtful whether the word 'conversion' should be used, in English translations of Buddhist texts, to express a man's {} becoming an upâsaka or a bhikkhu. For though the word 'conversion' is used in English in two senses—either that of joining the outward organisation of a new faith, or that of having one's eyes opened to the higher life—the second is the more accurate use of the word, and ought always to be implied in the first.

The word sambodhi-parâyano occurs in the passage first above quoted (Dîgha I, 156) in the answer to the question, 'What is the aim of the life of the recluse (that is, of the member of the Buddhist Order)?' Opponents and controversialists are fond of asking this question, and it is interesting to notice how it is answered. It is never the attainment of Buddhahood, but always (though the phraseology differs) the attainment of Arahatship. Thus, in the standing phrase used to state that so and so has become an Arahat (M. P. S., , at the end of Chapter V, and often elsewhere), it is said he has realised the aim of the higher life (brahmakariya-pariyosânam). The Ratha-vinîta and the Kulla Sakuludâyi Dialogues (Nos. 24 and 79 of the Magghima Collection) lead up to the same conclusion. In the Samyutta IV, 51, the aim is said to be the complete understanding of sorrow (dukkhassa pariññâ), and the same reply is expanded further on in the same book (IV, 233) by the explanation that the way of gaining this understanding is to follow out the whole of the Eightfold Path to Arahatship. And this is repeated further on (S. V, 6: compare Mil. 49, 101). In the Anguttara (IV, 7) the object is said to be the destruction of the seven bonds, the destruction of which is precisely Arahatship.

So sambodhi-patto is used in the Sutta Nipâta, 478, 503, to describe the Arahat, of whom it is said (Itivuttaka, No. 47, : compare ibid. = A. II, 14, and also A. II, 200, 202; S. N. 765) that even here, in this world, he will reach up to the sambodhi, the way to which is said to be the Eightfold Path (M. I, 431 and the Dhamma-kakka-ppavattana Sutta, &c.). And sambodhi-parâyano, with which we started, is only another way of stating what is expressed by amata-parâyano ('having the ambrosia of Arahatship as his aim') in a Sutta, not yet traced, but quoted by Moggallîputta Tissa at Kathâ Vatthu XXII, 7{1}. Of course the above is not intended to imply that the Buddha had not attained the sambodhi. He was an Arahat, and, as such, had all the graces an Arahat should have{2}.

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On the same page of this Sutta we have two instances of a curious manner of address not infrequent in the Pitakas, but as yet very imperfectly understood. After being told that Nâgita was the name of the Buddha's personal attendant, we find him suddenly, and without any explanation, addressed as Kassapa. And the young Likkhavi, introduced to us at the beginning of the Sutta by the name 'Hare-lip' (Otthaddha), is addressed both by Nâgita and by the Buddha, neither by his name Otthaddha, nor as Likkhavi, but (and again without any explanation) as Mahâli.
There are several points in this question of address which cannot yet be solved, but several others are already pretty clear. There are at least eight different modes of speaking of or to a person:— A nickname arising out of some personal peculiarity. Such are Lambakanna (Hanging-eared), Kûtadanta (with a protruding tooth), Otthaddha (Hare-lipped), Anâthapindika (the beggars' friend), Dârupattika (the man with the wooden bowl). All these are used in a quite friendly, but familiar way. And such names occur so often that it would seem as if nearly everybody was known by a nickname. A personal name, called in Pâli the mûla-nâma. This, like our own so-called Christian names, is not connected with any personal peculiarity. Some of these names (like similar ones among ourselves) are of very obscure derivation, but others are clear enough as adjectives with a good or lucky meaning. Such are Tissa (after the lucky star of that name), Devadatta (our Theodore), Bhaddiya (nearly the same as our Frederick), Nanda or Ânanda (Joy), Abhaya (Fearless), and many others. The name of the Gotta or gens, what we should call a surname or family name. These are usually patronymic in form; such as Opamañña, Kanhâyana, Moggallâna, Kassapa, Kandarâyana, Kondañña, Vâsettha, Vessâyana, Bhâradvâga, Vakkhâyana. The name of the clan, called in Pâli Kula-nâma, such as Sakka, Kâlâma, Buli, Koliya, Likkhavi, Vaggi, Malla, &c. The name of the mother, with putta (son) added to it; such as Sâri-putta (the more usual name by which the famous disciple Upatissa is called), Vedehi-putta (a name of Agâtasattu king of Magadhâ, Mandîkâ-putta (= Upaka), {}

Mantâni-putta (= Punna), Godhi-putta (= Devadatta), Moggali-putta (= Tissa, author of the Kathâ Vatthu). Less frequently the reverse is the case, and a mother or father, whose child has become famous, is simply referred to as the mother, or father, of so and so.

It is noteworthy that the name of the father is never used in this way, and that the mother's name is never a personal name; but always taken either from the clan, or from the family, to which she belonged. Occasionally the root-form of the name of the clan, or of the trade, has -putto added to it in a similar way (Vanganta-putto, Todeyya-putto{1}, rathakâra-putto). But these cases, which are rare, should rather be classified under the next division.
The name of the position in society, or the occupation, of the person addressed. Such are brâhmana, gahapati, mahârâga, thapati, &c.
A mere general term of courtesy or respect, not containing any special application to the person addressed—such as bhante, âvuso, ayye, &c.

Lastly there is the local name, never used in addressing a person, but prefixed or added to the mûla or gotta name, in narrative sentences, to distinguish between two or more people of the same name. Thus of the eighteen different Kassapas mentioned in the books, three are distinguished, in narrative, as Uruvela- Nadi- and Gaya-Kassapa respectively; of the eight different Kittas one is distinguished as Makkhi-kâsandika; of the seventeen different Bhâradvâgas one is distinguished as Kâpathika. Other instances are probably Hatthako Âlavako, Bâhiyo Dârukîriyo, Pokkharasâdi Subhagavaniko, &c.

On the rules regulating the choice as to which one of these various sorts of names should, under the circumstances, be used in any particular case, the following observations may be made.

It is not considered courteous among equals, except in the case of close familiarity, to use either of the two sorts of personal names, that is, either the nickname or the mûla-nâma.
The Buddha addresses Brahmans as Brâhmana (for instance Sonadanda and Kûtadanta above in the Suttas so called; Gânussoni at M. I, 16, 178; A. I, 56, 159, 166; II, 173; IV, 54; Sañgaya at M. II, 127, 132, though his gotta name is {} given, Âkâsa-gotta; Sikha at A. II, 232, though his gotta name is given, Moggallâna). But we have had one instance above where he addresses a young Brahman as Ambattha, apparently a clan name (his gotta was Kanhâyana). This solitary exception may be because of his youth.

On the other hand the Buddha usually addresses ascetics not as paribbâgaka, but by their gotta name. Thus at M. I, 228-250 he calls Sakkako, the Nigantha, by his gotta name Aggi-vessâyana. At M. I, 497-500 he calls Dîgha-nakho (so called, no doubt, because he kept his nails long) by his gotta name, which is again Aggi-vessâyana. And at M. II, 40 he calls Vekhanaso by his gotta name of Kakkâna. This is only in accord with the usage followed by others besides the Buddha. Thus Gânussoni, a Brahman, at M. I, 175, addresses the ascetic Pilotika by his gotta name of Vakkhâyana, and Assagi, a member of the Buddhist order, also calls Sakkako by his gotta name (loc. cit.), and everybody, not a Buddhist, addresses the Buddha by his gotta name, as Gotama. When therefore we find other ascetics addressed by the Buddha by the same name as has been used in the introductory narrative (as, for instance. in the case of Sarabha, A. I, 186; Potaliya, A. II, 100; Potthapâda, D. I, 178 foll.), one may conclude that these also are probably gotta names. This custom of addressing people by their gotta name, no doubt a common one in certain cases, was expressly forbidden to Niganthas (Jacobi, 'Gaina-Sûtras,' II, 305). They called their own Order a gotra (ibid. 321, 327), and apparently thought it worldly to recognise the existence of any other.

The Buddha addresses members of his own clan, whether members of his Order or not, by their personal names (so of Vappa, A. II, 197; of Mahânâma, M. I, 91, 354; A. I, 220; III, 284). The same holds good of the junior members of the Order, but some at least of the more distinguished among them are always addressed by him either by their gotta, or by their mother's, name (compare Moggallâna, Kakkâna, Kassapa, Gotamî, Sâriputta). Nâgita, for instance, though he is addressed as Kassapa by his nephew, the novice Sîha, is addressed by the Buddha simply as Nâgita.
Probably every Brahman, and every member of each of the free clans, had a gotta name. We have no certain instance of such a name in any other case. The gotta names used in the clans are the same as those given in Brahman books to Brahmans. It has been concluded that they are Brahman names, and that the clans must have adopted them from the Brahmans, each family or gens taking the gotta name of {} their private chaplain, their purohita priest. But in that case we should surely expect to find some evidence that such priests were usually maintained in such clans. There is no evidence of the kind. All that we can fairly conclude is that the clans claimed, by the very use of these names, to be descended from the same ancestors as the Brahmans, who also bore the names; and that the claim was admitted to be well founded. As shown above, even Brahmans use these gotta names of non-Brahmans. It would seem that the nickname, when once generally known, tended, in speaking of a person, to drive the others out of use. But it is never used in speaking to the person referred to by it.

From the usage referred to, as followed by the Buddha and others, it would seem that the gotta name was considered as more honourable than either of the personal names, and also than the descriptive general name or title of paribbâgaka (wandering mendicant, recluse). Even the title Brâhmana was dropped for the gotta name in the case of a recluse.

There are a number of problems, both as to general principles and as to details, that still remain, in this matter of names, unsolved. Is Âlâra, for instance, a nickname or a mûla-nâma; is Kâlâmo a gotta name or a clan name{1}? To what classes of the people was the use of gotta names limited, and what is the historical explanation of this limitation? Were there as many as a dozen clan names in Magadhâ and Kosala combined? What was exactly implied by the clan-name, the Kula-nâma? The word gotta probably had the same meaning, when the Pitakas were composed, as gotra has in the later law books written by the priests. How comes it then that the number of gottas referred to is so very small? Are there much more than a score altogether? What light does the meaning of the mûla and gotta names throw on the religious conceptions and social customs of the people?

I hope to return to these and similar questicns when I can find time to publish my Pâli Onomasticon, of the names in the Pitakas and in the older inscriptions. What has here been said is probably sufficient to make the use of the names in this Sutta clear{2}.

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VI. MAHÂLI SUTTA.

[THE AIM OF THE BRETHREN.]

Thus have I heard. The Blessed One was once staying at Vesâlî at the Gabled Hall in the Great Wood{1}. Now at that time a number of Brahmans, who had been sent on pressing business of one kind or another from Kosali and Magadhâ, were lodging at Vesâlî.
And they heard the news: 'They say that the Samana Gotama of the Sâkya clan, who went out from a Sâkya family to adopt the religious life, is now staying at Vesâlî at the Gabled Hall in the Great Wood. Now regarding that venerable Gotama, such is the high reputation that has been noised abroad: "That Blessed One is an Arahat, a fully awakened one, abounding in wisdom and goodness, happy, who knows all worlds, unsurpassed as a guide to mortals willing to be led, a teacher for gods and men, a Blessed One, a Buddha. He, by himself, thoroughly knows and sees, as it were, face to face this universe,—including the worlds above of the gods, the Brahmâs, and the Mâras, and the world below with its recluses and Brahmans, its princes and peoples,—and having known it, he makes his knowledge known to others. The truth, lovely in its origin, lovely in its progress, lovely in its {} consummation, doth he proclaim, both in the spirit and in the letter, the higher life doth he make known, in all its fullness and in all its purity. And good is it to pay visits to Arahats like that."'
So those Brahmans from Kosala and Magadhâ went out to the Great Wood, and to the Gabled Hall. Now at that time the venerable Nâgita was acting as the personal attendant on the Blessed One. And they went to him, and said: 'Where is it, Nâgita, that that venerable Gotama is lodging now, for we wish to see him.

'It is not a fitting time, Sirs, to call upon the Blessed One. He has retired into solitude.'

Then they sat down round about, saying, 'We will not go away without seeing the venerable Gotama.'
And Hare-lip the Likkhavi, too, came to the Great Wood, and to the Gabled Hall, with a retinue of his clan; and going up to the venerable Nâgita, he saluted him, and reverently standing apart, he said to him: 'Where, venerable Nâgita, is the Blessed One now lodging, the Arahat, the Buddha; for we wish to see him?' And on receiving a similar reply he, too, sat down apart, saying: 'I will not go till I have seen the August One, the Arahat, the Buddha.'

But Sîha, a novice{1}, came up to the venerable Nâgita, and saluted him, and standing reverently apart, he said to him: 'These envoys of the Brahmans from Kosalâ and Magadhâ, many of them, have come, O Kassapa{2}, to call upon the Blessed One; and Hare-lip the Likkhavi, too, with a retinue of his clan, has come to do the same. 'Twere best, O Kassapa, that all this folk should be allowed to see the Blessed One.'

{}

'Very well, then, Sîha. Tell the Blessed One yourself.'

'Very good, Sir,' said Sîha the novice in assent to the venerable Nâgita. And he went where the Blessed One was, and saluted him, and standing reverently apart, he said to him even as he had said to Nâgita.

'Very well, Sîha. Spread out a mat for me in the shade in front of the house.'
And Sîha did so. And the Blessed One came out from the house, and sat down. And the Brahmans from Kosalâ and Magadhâ exchanged with him the greetings and compliments of politeness and courtesy, and took their seats on one side. And Hare-lip the Likkhavi also, with the retinue of his clan, bowed down to the Blessed One, and seated himself on one side. And when he was thus seated he addressed the Blessed One, and said:

'Some few days ago, Sir, Sunakkhatta of the Likkhavis{1} came to me, and said: "It is only three years, Mahâli{2}, since I first came under the Blessed One, and I can see heavenly forms, pleasant to behold, fitted to satisfy all one's desires, exciting longing in one's heart. But I cannot hear heavenly sounds like that." Now, Sir, are there such heavenly sounds, which he could not hear, or have they no existence?'

'They are real, those heavenly sounds, pleasant, fitted to satisfy one's desires, exciting longing in one's heart, which he could not hear. They are not things of nought.'

But we do not hear that Sunakkhatta ever came back to the fold.
This is again the name of the gotta, the gens. Buddhaghosa () calls him a râga.}

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'But what then is the proximate, and what the ultimate cause, why he could not hear them, they being thus real and not things of nought?'

'Suppose a recluse, Mahâli, to have practised one-sided concentration of mind with the object of seeing such heavenly forms in any one direction,—in the East, or the South, or the West, or the North, or above; or below, or across,—and not with the object of hearing such heavenly sounds. Then since he has practised one-sided concentration, with the one object only in view, he only sees the sights, he hears not the sounds. And why not? Because of the nature of his self-concentration [samâdhi].

8, 9. 'And so also, Mahâli, if he have practised one-sided concentration with the object of hearing, in any one direction, the heavenly sounds. Then, and for the same reason, he hears the sounds, but he sees not the sights.

10, 11. 'But suppose, Mahâli, he has practised self-concentration with the double object in view of seeing and hearing, in any one direction, those heavenly sights and those heavenly sounds. Then since he has practised self-concentration with the double object in view, he both sees the sights and hears the sounds. And why so? Because of the nature of his self-concentration.'

'Then, Sir, is it for the sake of attaining to the practice of such self-concentration that the brethren lead the religious life under the Blessed One?'

'No, Mahâli. There are things, higher and sweeter than that, for the sake of which they do so.'
'And what, Sir, may those other things be?'
'In the first place, Mahâli, a brother by the complete destruction of the Three Bonds (the Delusions of self, Doubt, and Trust in the efficacy of good works and ceremonies){1} becomes a converted man, one who cannot be reborn in any state of woe, and is assured of {} attaining to the Insight (of the stages higher still){1}. That, Mahâli, is a condition, higher and sweeter, for the sake of which the brethren lead the religious life under me.

'And then further, Mahâli, a brother by the complete destruction of those Three Bonds, and by reducing to a minimum lust, illwill, and dullness, becomes a Once-returner, one who on his first return to this world shall make an end of pain. That, Mahâli, is a condition higher still and sweeter, for the sake of which the brethren lead the religious life under me.

'And then further, Mahâli, a brother by the complete destruction of the Five Bonds that bind people to this world{2} becomes an inheritor of the highest heavens{3}, there to pass away, thence never to return{4}. That, Mahâli, is a condition higher still and sweeter, for the sake of which the brethren lead the religious life under me.

'And then further. Mahâli, when a brother by the destruction of the Deadly Floods (or Intoxications—Lusts, Becomings, Delusion, and Ignorance) has, by himself, known and realised and continues to abide here, in this visible world, in that emancipation of mind, that emancipation of heart, which is Arahatship—that, Mahâli, is a condition higher still and sweeter still, for the sake of which the brethren lead the religious life under me.
'Such, Mahâli, are the conditions higher and sweeter {} (than seeing heavenly sights and hearing heavenly sounds), for the sake of which the brethren lead the religious life under me.'
'But is there, Sir, a path, is there a method, for the realisation of these conditions?'

'Yes, Mahâli, there is.'

'And what, Sir, may be that path, what that method?'

'Verily it is this Noble Eightfold Path, that is to say: Right views, right aspirations, right speech, right action, a right means of livelihood, right effort, right mindfulness, and right ecstasy in self-concentration{1}. This, Mahâli, is the path, and this the method, for the realisation of these conditions.

'One day, Mahâli, I was staying at Kosambî, in the Ghosita pleasaunce. There two recluses, Mandissa the wandering mendicant, and Gâliya the pupil of Dârupattika (the man with the wooden bowl), came to me, and exchanged with me the greetings and compliments of politeness and courtesy, and stood reverently apart. And so standing they said to me:

'How is it then, O venerable Gotama, is the soul the same thing as the body? Or is the soul one thing and the body another?'

'Listen then, Sirs, and give heed attentively, and I will speak.'

'Very good. Sir: said those two mendicants in assent, and I spake as follows:—

[Here follows the whole of the exposition given in the Sâmañña-Phala Sutta, §§ 40-75*, that is to say:*
The appearance of a Buddha and his preaching.
The awakening of a hearer, and his entry into the Order.
His self-training in act, word, and speech.
The minor details of morality which he observes.
The absence of fear, confidence of heart thence resulting.

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The way in which he learns to guard the door of his senses.
The Constant self-possession he thus gains.
The power of being content with little, with simplicily of life.

9, The emancipation of heart from the five hindrances—covelousness, illwill, sloth of body and mind, excitement and worry, and perplexity.
The resulting joy and peace that he gains.]
'Then estranged from lusts, aloof from evil states, he enters into and remains in the First Rapture—a state of joy and ease, born of detachment, reasoning and investigation going on the while. Now, Sirs, when a Bhikshu knows thus and sees thus, would that make him ready to take up the subject: "Is the soul the same thing as the body, or is the soul one thing and the body another?"'

'Yes, it would, Sir{1}.'

'But I, Sirs, know thus and see thus, And nevertheless I do not say either the one or the other,'

17, 18. [The cases are then put of a Bhikshu who has acquired the second, third, and fourth Raptures (D. II, 77-81) and the knowledge arising from insight (Ñâna-dassana; D. II, 83, 84); and the same question, reply, and rejoinder are given in each case.]
19, 'With his heart thus serene (&c. above, p, 85), he directs and bends down his mind to the knowledge of the destruction of the Deadly Floods, He knows as it really is: "This is pain." He knows as it really is: "This is the origin of pain." He knows as it really is: "This is the cessation of pain." He knows as it really is: "This is the Path that leads to the cessation of pain." He knows as they really are: "These are the Deadly Floods." He knows as it really is: "This is the origin of the Deadly Floods." He knows as it really is: "This is the cessation of the Deadly Floods." He knows as it really is: "This is the {}

Path that leads to the cessation of the Deadly Floods." To him, thus knowing, thus seeing, the heart is set free from the Deadly Taint of Lusts, is set free from the Deadly Taint of Becomings, is set free from the Deadly Taint of Ignorance. In him, thus set free, there arises the knowledge of his emancipation, and he knows: "Rebirth has been destroyed. The higher life has been fulfilled. What had to be done has been accomplished. After this present life there will be no beyond!"

'When a Bhikshu, Sirs, knows thus and sees thus, would that make him ready to take up the question: "Is the soul the same as the body, or is the soul one thing and the body another?"'

'No, Sir, it would not{1}.'

'And I, Sirs, know thus and see thus. And nevertheless I do not say either the one or the other.'

Thus spake the Blessed One; and Hare-lip the Likkhavi, pleased at heart, exalted the word of the Blessed One.

Here ends the Mahâli Sutta.

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VII. GÂLIYA SUTTA.

[IS THE SOUL DISTINCT FROM THE BODY?]

[This Sutta having been incorporated, word for word, as §§ 15-19, inclusive, in the last Sutta, the reader is referred to the translation given there.

The Mahâli Sutta must have already included, when the Dîgha was put together, this Gâliya episode. For there would otherwise be no reason for the Mahâli Sutta being put into the Sîlakkhanda Vagga, the Sîlas being contained only in that episode.

Why then should the episode appear also again, in full, as a separate Sutta? Is it merely because of the importance of the question? We have another instance of a similar kind, where the episode of Nigrodha's question, only referred to at § 23 of the Kassapa-Sîhanâda Sutta, is set out afterwards, in full, in the Udumbarîka Sîhanâda Sutta (No. 25 in the Dîgha). But there the whole episode is not given twice in full. Such cross-references are fairly frequent in the Pitakas, and are of importance for the history of the literature. One of the most striking cases is where the Samyutta quotes a Sutta, now contained in the Dîgha, by name. (Sakka-pañha Sutta, S. III, 13; compare Sum. I, 51; Mil. 350.)]

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INTRODUCTION

KASSAPA-SÎHANÂDA SUTTA.

IN this Sutta the Buddha, in conversation with a naked ascetic, explains his position as regards asceticism—so far, that is, as is compatible with his invariable method (as represented in the Dialogues) when discussing a point on which he differs from his interlocutor.

When speaking on sacrifice to a sacrificial priest, on union with God to an adherent of the current theology, on Brahman claims to superior social rank to a proud Brahman, on mystic insight to a man who trusts in it, on the soul to one who believes in the soul theory, the method followed is always the same. Gotama puts himself as far as possible in the mental position of the questioner. He attacks none of his cherished convictions. He accepts as the starting-point of his own exposition the desirability of the act or condition prized by his opponent—of the union with God (as in the Tevigga), or of sacrifice (as in the Kûtadanta), or of social rank (as in the Ambattha), or of seeing heavenly sights, &c. (as in the Mahâli), or of the soul theory (as in the Potthapâda). He even adopts the very phraseology of his questioner. And then, partly by putting a new and (from the Buddhist point of view) a higher meaning into the words; partly by an appeal to such ethical conceptions as are common ground between them; he gradually leads his opponent up to his conclusion. This is, of course, always Arahatship—that is the sweetest fruit of the life of a recluse, that is the best sacrifice, that the highest social rank, that the best means of seeing heavenly sights, and a more worthy object; and so on. In our Sutta it is the path to Arahatship which is the best asceticism.
There is both courtesy and dignity in the method employed. But no little dialectic skill, and an easy mastery of the ethical points involved, are required to bring about the result. On the hypothesis that the Buddha is a sun myth, and his principal disciples personifications of the stars, {} the facts seem difficult to explain. One would expect, then, something quite different. How is it that the other disciples who must, in that case, have concocted these Dialogues, refrain so entirely from astrological and mythological details? How is it they attribute to their hero qualities of courtesy and sympathy, and a grasp of ethical problems, all quite foreign, even antagonistic, to those usually ascribed to sun-heroes—mostly somewhat truculent and very un-ethical personages?

On the hypothesis that he was an historical person, of that training and character he is represented in the Pitakas to have had, the method is precisely that which it is most probable he would have actually followed.

Whoever put the Dialogues together may have had a sufficiently clear memory of the way he conversed, may well have even remembered particular occasions and persons. To the mental vision of the compiler, the doctrine taught loomed so much larger than anything else, that he was necessarily more concerned with that, than with any historical accuracy in the details of the story. He was, in this respect, in much the same position as Plato when recording the dialogues of Socrates. But he was not, like Plato, giving his own opinions. We ought, no doubt, to think of compilers, rather than of a compiler. The memory of co-disciples had to be respected, and kept in mind. And so far as the actual doctrine is concerned our Dialogues are probably a more exact reproduction of the thoughts of the teacher than the dialogues of Plato.

However this may be, the method followed in all these Dialogues has one disadvantage. In accepting the position of the adversary, and adopting his language, the authors compel us, in order to follow what they give us as Gotama's view, to read a good deal between the lines. The argumentum ad hominem can never be the same as a statement of opinion given without reference to any particular person. That is strikingly the case with our present Sutta.
When addressing his five hearers—the Pañkavaggiyâ, the first five converts, and the first Arahats—in the Deer-park at Benares, on the occasion of his first discourse, the Buddha is represented to have spoken of asceticism in a very different way. He there calls it one of 'two extremes which are to be avoided'; and describes it as 'painful, unworthy, and unprofitable{1}.' So in the Puggala Paññatti (IV, 24) the very practices set out in our Sutta, by Kassapa the ascetic, {} as desirable and praiseworthy, are set out as the actions by which a man injures himself. There is nothing of this sort in our Sutta. To judge from it alone one might fairly conclude that the Buddha approved of asceticism, only insisting that the self-mastery and self-control of the Path were the highest and best forms of it. There is really no inconsistency in these three Suttas. But while the first discourse and the Puggala passage were both addressed to disciples, our Sutta is addressed to an ascetic, and the language used is modified accordingly. The conclusion in all is exactly the same. It is clear that at the time when our Sutta was put together the practice of self-mortification had already been carried out to a considerable extent in India. And further details, in some of which the self-imposed penances are even more extreme, are given in other Dialogues of the same date, notably in the twelfth Sutta of the Magghima. This is oddly enough also called a Sîhanâda Sutta, and the reason is not far to seek.
The carrying out of such practices, in all countries, wins for the ascetic a very high reputation. Those who despise earthly comforts, and even submit themselves to voluntary torture, are looked upon with a kind of fearsome wonder, as more holy than other men. And no doubt, in most cases, the ascetics laid claim to special virtue. In the Suttas dealing with the practices of the ascetics, Gotama, in laying stress on the more moderate view, takes occasion also to dispute this claim. He maintains, as in our Sutta, that the insight and self-control and self-mastery of the Path, or of the system of intellectual and moral self-training laid down for the Bhikkhu, are really harder than the merely physical practices so much more evident to the eye of the vulgar. It was a point that had to be made. And the Suttas in which it is made are designated as Sîhanâdas, literally 'the lion's roars'—the proud claim by the Arahat to a dignity and veneration greater than that allowed by the people to the self-torturer, or even to the man who 'Bescorched, befrozen, lone in fearsome woods, Naked, without a fire, afire within, Struggled, in awful silence, towards the goal{1}!'
And the boast goes really even further. Not only were the ascetics no better than the Arahats, they were even not so practical. The self-mortification was an actual hindrance. It turned men's minds from more essential matters. Diogenes was not only not superior to other men, no nearer to the {} truth than they, by reason of his tub and of his physical renunciation; he was their ethical inferior, and was intellectually wrong. So hard, so very hard, was the struggle{1} that the Arahat, or the man striving towards Arahatship, should be always sufficiently clothed, and take regular baths, regular exercise, regular food. The line was to be drawn at another point. He was to avoid, not what was necessary to maintain himself in full bodily vigour and power, but all undue luxury, and all worry about personal comfort. It was his duty to keep himself in health.

It is open to question whether the earnest and unworldly would now draw the line at the precise point at which Gotama drew it; either as regards what they would think proper for themselves now, or what they would have thought most proper for those living in India then. Probably they would think rather that he erred on the side of austerity. His contemporaries the Niganthas thought the other way. And the most serious schism in the Buddhist Order, that raised by Devadatta, was especially defended on the ground that Gotama would not, as regards various points, adopt ascetic practices which Devadatta held to be then necessary.

It is probable that Gotama was largely guided by the opinions and practice of previous recluses. For we have already seen that in other matters, important it is true but not essential, Gotama adopted and extended, so far as it agreed with the rest of his system, what had already been put forward by others. But we cannot, as yet, speak on this point with as much certainty as we could in the other cases of the ethical view of sacrifice, of the ethical connotation attached to the word Brahman{2}, and of the reasonable view as to social distinctions and questions of impurity. Our available texts are only sufficient, at present, to suggest the probability.
The technical term tapas is already found in the Rig-veda, though only in the latest hymns included in the collection. It is literally 'glow, burning,' and very early acquired the secondary sense of retirement into solitude, and of the attempted conquest of one's lower nature by the burning heat of bodily austerity. And this must have been a common practice, for the time of the year most favourable to such {} tapas came to be known as the month tapas. There was no association with the word of what we call 'penance,' a conception arising out of an entirely different order of religious ideas. There was no idea of atonement for, punishment of, making amends for sin. But just as the sacrificer was supposed, by a sort of charm that he worked by his sacrifice, to attain ends desirable for himself, so there was supposed to be a sort of charm in tapas producing mystic and marvellous results. The distinction seems to have been that it was rather power, worldly success, wealth, children, and heaven that were attained by sacrifice; and mystic, extraordinary, superhuman faculties that were attained by tapas.

By a natural anthropomorphism the gods too were supposed, for like ends, to offer sacrifice and to perform tapas. Thus it is sometimes by sacrifice, but more often by tapas, that in the different cosmological legends one god or the other is supposed to bring forth creation{1}. In the latter case an expression often used on such occasions is tapas atapasyata, literally 'he glowed a glow,' and the exact meaning of this enigmatic phrase is by no means certain. It may have been meant to convey that he glowed with fierce resolve, or that he glowed with deep thought, or that he glowed with strong desire, or that he carried out each or some or all of the practices given in Kassapa's three lists of self-mortifications in our Sutta. All these various ideas may possibly be meant to be inferred together, and before they were ascribed to gods similar actions must have been well known among men.
There were some, as one would expect, who therefore placed austerity above sacrifice, or held that it could take the place of sacrifice{2}. The more conservative view of the learned Brahman—that it is repeating by heart to oneself, and teaching others, the Vedic verses, that is the chief thing (with which twelve other qualities or practices should always be associated)—is only given with the interesting note that one teacher thinks 'the true' only, another thinks austerity only to be necessary, and yet a third thinks that learning and teaching the Veda is enough by itself, 'for that is tapas, that is tapas{3}.' There are several passages making similar comparisons. Thus one text says: 'There are three branches of duty—sacrifice study of the Veda and charity are the first, austerity (tapas) is the second, to dwell as a learner one's life {} long in the house of one's teacher is the third. All these have as reward heavenly worlds. But he who stands firm in Brahman obtains deathlessness{1}.'

So in the passages which explain (by no means consistently) where the soul goes to after it leaves the body, we have a somewhat corresponding division{2}. According to the Khândogya, those who know a certain mystical doctrine about five fires, and those who in the forest follow faith and austerity (tapas), go along the path of the gods to the Brahma worlds. On the other hand, they who sacrifice, and give alms go to the moon, and thence return to earth, and are reborn in high or low positions according to their deeds. But the bad become insects.

According to the Brihadâranyaka, those who know the mystic doctrine of the five fires, and those who in the woods practise faith and truth (not tapas) go to the Brahma worlds. on the other hand, those who practise sacrifice, charity, and austerity (tapas) go to the moon, and are thence reborn on earth. But those who follow neither of these two paths become insects.

Here austerity is put into a lower grade than it occupies in the last extract. Other later passages are Mundaka II, 7; III, 2, 4, 6; Prasna I, 9; V, 4. Though the details differ there is a general consensus that above both sacrifice and austerity, which are themselves meritorious, there is a something higher, a certain kind of truth or faith or wisdom.

This is the exact analogue, from the Upanishad point of view, to the doctrine of the Buddhists that Arahatship is better than austerity. And though the Upanishad belief is not worked out with the same consistency, nor carried so far to its logical conclusion, as the Buddhist, that is simply to be explained by the facts that it is not only earlier, belonging to a time when thought was less matured, but is also not the work of one mind, but of several. There can be but little doubt that Gotama, during his years of study and austerity before he attained Nirvana under the Tree of Wisdom, had come into contact with the very beliefs, or at least with beliefs similar to those, now preserved in the Upanishads; and that his general conclusion was based upon them. That he practically condemns physical tapas (austerity) altogether is no argument against his indebtedness, so far as the superiority of wisdom to austerity is concerned, to the older theory.
In the passages in which that older theory is set forth we {} have the germs—indistinct statements, no doubt, and inconsistent, but still the first source—of the well-known theory of the Âsramas; the Efforts (or perhaps Trainings), four stages into which the life of each member of the ranks of the twice-born (the Dvigas) should be divided. In later times these are (1) the student, (2) the householder, (3) the hermit, and (4) the wandering ascetic; that is, the Brahmakârin, the Grihastha, the Vânaprastha, and the Yati{1}. And stress was laid on the order in which the stages of effort were taken up, it being held improper for a man to enter the latter without having passed through the former.

The Upanishad passages know nothing or the curious technical term of Effort (Âsrama) applied to these stages. And they have really only two divisions (and these not regarded as consecutive stages), that of the sacrificer and of the hermit (not the Bhikshu). Of course studentship is understood as preliminary to both. But we are here at a standpoint really quite apart from the Âsrama theory, and Sankara and other commentators are obliged to resort to curious and irreconcilable shifts when they try to read back into these old texts the later and more developed doctrine{2}.

Even the names of the several Âsramas do not occur, as such, in the older Upanishads. Brahmakârin is frequently used for pupil, Yati in two or three passages means ascetic; but Grihastha, Vânaprastha, and Bhikshu do not even occur{3}. The earliest mention of the four Efforts is in the old law books. Gautama (III, 2) gives them as Brahmakârin, Grihastha, Bhikshu, and Vaikhânasa (student, householder, wandering beggar, and hermit). Âpastamba (II, 9, 21, 1) has a different order, and different names for the four stages—Gârhasthyam, Âkâryakulam, Maunam, and Vânaprasthyam{4}.
Hofrath Bühler dated these works (very hypothetically) in the fifth and third, or possibly in the sixth and fourth centuries B.C.{5} The theory of the Four Efforts was then {} already current, but by no means settled as to detail. It must evidently have taken shape between the date of the Upanishads just quoted and that of the law books; that is to say, either just before or some time after the rise of Buddhism. We can, I think, go safely further, and say that it must have been, in all probability, after Buddha, and even after the time when the Pitaks were put together. For neither the technical term Âsrama, nor any of the four stages of it, are mentioned in the Pitakas.

The theory has become finally formulated, in the order as to detail which has permanently survived, in the later law books from Vasishtha onwards. He gives the Four Efforts or stages in the life of an orthodox person, as (1) Student, (2) Householder, (3) Hermit, (4) Wandering Mendicant—Brahmakârin, Grihastha, Vânaprastha, and Parivrâgaka{1}.

It will be noticed that this final arrangement differs in two—respects—and both of them of importance—from the earliest. In the first place the wandering beggar is put in the last, that is in the highest, place. He is not subordinated, as he was at first to the hermit. In the second place the expression Bhikshu, applied in Gautama to the wandering mendicant, is dropped in the later books.

The commentators are at great pains to harmonise the divergent order. And they do so by suggesting that the earlier arrangement (which, of course, the strange one) is meant to infer exactly the same as does the contrary later arrangement so familiar to them. To them the wandering mendicant had become the last, in order of time and importance, of the Four Efforts; and they try to put back their own view into the words of the ancient writers they are dealing with. But if the order they were familiar with implies one thing, the older order, which is exactly the reverse can scarcely imply the same. Or if it does, then the question arises, why should it? In either case the explanation may be sought for in the history of the two ideas.
Now the distinction befween the twois quite clear, though the ambiguity of the English word 'ascetic,' often applied to both, may tend to hide it from view{2}. Gautama starts his {} description of the hermit by saying that he is to feed on roots and fruits, and practise tapas. And all the later books lay stress on the same point; often giving, as instances of the tapas, one or other of the very practices detailed by Kassapa the tâpasa, in his three lists, in our Sutta{1}. On the other hand, the wandering mendicant does not practise these severe physical self-mortifications. He is never called tâpasa, and though he has abandoned the world, and wanders without a home, simply clad, and begging his food, his self-restraint is mental rather than physical. Of the fifteen rules laid down for him by Gautama, who calls him the Bhikshu (in X, 11-25), four or five are precisely equivalent to rules the Buddhist Bhikshu has to observe. There is one significant rule in Baudhâyana, however, which is quite contrary to the corresponding Buddhist rule. According to it the twice-born mendicant of the priestly books is, in begging for food, to observe the rules of ceremonial purity, what we call now the rules of caste{2}.

Now while the belief in the special efficacy and holiness of austerity, self-torture, tapas; is a world-wide phenomenon, and the practice of it was, no doubt, very early in India too, the idea of the wandering mendicant is peculiar to India. And though the origin and early history of this institution are at present obscure, we have no reason to believe that it was of ancient date.
It was older than the Buddha's time. Both Buddhist and Gain records agree on this point. And they are confirmed by an isolated passage in an Upanishad which, as a whole, is pre-Buddhistic{3}. There it is said that he who desires to see {} the god Brahman cannot attain his end by speculation; he must put away learning and become childlike, put away childishness and become a muni (a silent one){1}, put away silence and become a Brâhmana (that is, of course, not a Brahmana by birth, but one in a sense nearly the same as Gotama attaches to the word in the Sonadanda Sutta). This is to explain why it is that 'Brâhmanas' (in the ethical sense) give up cravings for children and wealth and the world and adopt begging as a regular habit (bhikshâkaryam karanti). Another recension of the same passage, also preserved in the same Upanishad{2}, but in a connection which Deussen thinks is a later interpolation{3}, ascribes this habit to 'men of old.' The statement is no doubt ambiguous. It might be taken to apply to the hermit (the tâpasa) who also begged. But I think on the whole that the wandering mendicant is more probably referred to, and referred to as belonging to a higher sphere than the muni, the ascetic. If that be so, this is the earliest passage in which any one of these three ideas (the wandering mendicant, his superiority to the ascetic, and the special ethical sense of the word Brahmana{4}) have, as yet, been found.

The oldest reference in the priestly literature to unorthodox Bhikshus (not necessarily Buddhists) is probably the Maitrî Upanishad VII, 8, which is much later. There is a custom, often referred to in the law books, of students begging their food. This was doubtless of long standing. But it is a conception altogether different from that of the wandering mendicant. The word Bhikshu does not occur in any of these passages. And indeed of all the Upanishads indexed in Colonel Jacob's 'Concordance' the word only occurs in one—in the little tract called the Parama-hamsa Upanishad.
Whenever it may have arisen, the peculiar institution of the Bhikshu is quite as likely, if not more likely, to have originated in Kshatriya circles than among the learned Brahmans. All our authorities—Brahman Upanishads, Buddhist Pitakas, Gain Angas—agree in ascribing to Kshatriyas a most important, not to say predominant, part in such religious activity as lay apart from sacrifice. To take for granted that {} the Brahmans must have originated the idea, or the practice, is to ignore all these authorities. And it is only in the Kshatriya books—those of the Buddhists and Gains—that the details of the practice receive much weight, or are dealt with in full detail.

The oldest law book has barely a page on the rules for Bhikshus, whereas the regulations, of about the same age, preserved in the Buddhist texts, fill the three volumes translated, under the title 'Vinaya Texts,' in the 'Sacred Books of the East.' And as time goes on the priestly literature continues to treat the life of a Bhikshu as entirely subordinate, and in the curtest manner. Even Manu has only three or four pages on the subject. The inconsistency, brevity, and incompleteness of the regulations in the priestly books lead one to suppose that, at the time when they were written, there were not enough Bhikshus, belonging to those circles, to make the regulations intended for them alone a matter of much practical importance. In other words, the development also of the Bhikshu idea was due rather to the Kshatriyas than to the sacrificing priests.

The latter were naturally half-hearted in the matter. Even after they had invented the Âsrama theory, they did not seem to be very keen about it. On the contrary, there are several passages the other way. Âpastamba closes his exposition of them with a remark that upsets the whole theory: 'There is no reason to place one Âsrama before another{1}.' And just before that he quotes a saying of Pragâpati from which it follows that those who become Bhikshus do not gain salvation at all, 'they become dust and perish.'

This was no doubt the real inmost opinion of the more narrow-minded of the priests. But the first maker of the phrase did not quite like to put this forward in his own name—the idea of the Bhikshu as a man worthy of special esteem had already become too strong for that. So he makes the god his stalking-horse; and tries, by using his name, to gain respectability and acceptance for his view. And it survives accordingly as late as the earlier portion of Manu (II, 230), where mention is made of 'the Three Âsramas,' omitting the Bhikshu. We ought not to be surprised to find that, though the whole passage is reproduced, in other respects, in the Institutes of Vishnu (XXXI, 7), this very curious and interesting phrase is replaced by another which avoids the difficulty.

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Baudhâyana also actually quotes with approval another old saying: 'There was forsooth an Asura, Kapila by name, the son of Prahlâda. Striving against the gods he made these divisions (the Âsramas). A wise man should not take heed of them{1}.

If the priests, when the custom of 'going forth' as a Bhikshu was becoming prevalent, had wished to counteract it, to put obstacles in the way, and especially to prevent any one doing so without first having become thoroughly saturated with the priest1y view of things, they could scarcely have taken a more efficacious step than the establishment of this theory. And so far as it served this purpose, and so far, only, do they seem to have cared much for it. We have no evidence that the theory had, at any time, become a practical reality—that is, that any considerable number of the twice-born, or even of the Brahmans, did actually carry out all the four Âsramas. Among the circles led by the opinion of learned and orthodox priests it was, no doubt, really held improper for any man to become a religieux until he was getting old, or without having first gone through a regular course of Vedic study. And whenever he did renounce the world he was expected to follow such of the ancient customs (now preserved in the priestly books under the three heads of Vânaprastha, Parivrâgaka, and Vedasamnyâsin) as he chose to follow. But even then he need not observe a clear distinction between these various heads. The percentage of elderly Brahmans who followed any of the three at all must always have been very small indeed, and of these a good many probably became Vedasamnyâsins, a group which lies outside of the Âsramas. The rules are admitted to be obsolete now. Sankara says they were not observed in his time{2}. And the theory seems to be little more than a priestly protest against the doctrine, acted upon by Buddhists, Gains, and others, and laid down in the Madhura Sutta, that even youths might 'go forth' without any previous Vedic study{3}.
There were, in other words, in the Indian community of that time, a number of people—very small, no doubt, compared with the total population, but still amounting to some thousands—who estimated the mystic power of tapas above that of sacrifice; who gave up the latter, and devoted themselves, in the woods, to those kinds of bodily austerity and {} self-torture of which our Sutta gives the earliest detailed account. There were others who rejected both, and preferred the life of the wandering mendicant. In both classes there were unworthy men who used their religious professions for the 'low aims' set out in the tract on the Sîlas incorporated in our Sutta, whose very words, in not a few instances, recur in the old law books.

But there was also no little earnestness, no little 'plain living and high thinking' among these 'irregular friars.' And there was a great deal of sympathy, both with their aims and with their practice (provided always they keep to the priestly view of things), among the official class, the regular sacrificing priests. Instead of condemning them, the priests tried, therefore, rather to regulate them. One Vikhanas compiled a special book on Tapas, called either after the author the Vaikhânasa Sûtra, or after the subject the Srâmanaka Sûtra, which is several times referred to as an authority in the law books whose precepts are doubtless, in part, taken from it{1}. Tapas was then, in accordance with the general view in the circles in which the law books were composed, regarded as the higher of the two, and put therefore at the end in the list of Âsramas. But there was also another view which had already made itself felt in the Upanishads, which is the basis of our Sutta, and which no doubt became more widely spread in consequence of its having been the view taken up by the progressive party we now call Buddhists. According to this view the life of the Bhikshu, of the wandering mendicant, was the higher. This view, disliked by the more narrow-minded, but regarded with favour by the more spiritually-minded of the Brahmans, gradually attained so unquestionably the upper hand, that the order of the last two of the Âsramas had to be changed. Tapas became then a preliminary stage to, instead of the final crown of, the religious life.
But the other view continued to be held by a large and influential minority. The strong leaning of the human heart to impute a singular efficacy to physical self-mortifications {} of all kinds could not be eradicated. Many of the laity still looked on those who carried out such practices with peculiar favour. The tendency made itself felt even in Buddhism, in spite of our present Sutta, and of many other passages to a similar effect. There is a special name for the 'extra vows,' the dhutangas, carried out by such of the brethren as were inclined that way. And these receive special glorification in a whole book at the end of the Milinda{1}. It is true that, even in these 'extra vows,' all the extreme forms of tapas are omitted. But this is only a matter of degree. In the priestly law books, also, though they go somewhat further than the dhutangas, the most extreme forms are omitted, especially in the rules for hermits and mendicants contained in the earlier books. This is another point in which the early Buddhists and the more advanced of the learned Brahmans of their time are found to be acting in sympathy. But the discussion of the details would take us too far from our subject.

The Niganthas, Âgîvakas, and others went to the other extreme, and like the Buddhists, they never admitted any theory like that of the distinction in time between the Four Âsramas{2}. It is even doubtful how far that distinction became a really valid and practical reality among the learned priests. They alone, as we have seen, always laid stress on the importance of not 'going forth,' either as ascetic or as wandering mendicant (tâpasa or bhikshu), unless first the years of studentship, and then the life as a sacrificing householder, had been fulfilled. They spoke occasionally of Three Efforts only. And as we have seen the lawyers differed in the order in which they mention the two classes of religieux{3}.

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By the time that the later order was settled the word Bhikshu had come to mean so specially a Buddhist mendicant that the learned Brahmans no longer thought it fitting to apply the term to their own mendicants. This at least may be the explanation of the fact that it is used in Gautama's law book, and not afterwards.

The history of the word is somewhat doubtful. It is not found as yet, as we have seen above, in any pre-Buddhistic text. Perhaps the Gains or the Buddhists first used it. But it was more probably a term common before their time, though not long before, to all mendicants. The form is sufficiently curious for Pânini to take special notice of it in the rule for the formation from desideratives of nouns in u{1}. In another rule{2} he mentions two Bhikshu Sûtras—manual for mendicants, as the Vaikhânasa Sûtra was for the hermits (tâpasas). These are used by the Pârâsârinas and the Karmaandinas, two groups or corporations, doubtless, of Brahmanical mendicants. Professor Weber refers to this in his History of Indian Literature, pe 305, and Professor Kielhorn has been kind enough to inform me that nothing more has been since discovered on the matter. These Sûtras are not mentioned elsewhere. And they can never have acquired so much importance as the Vaikhânasa Sûtra, or they would almost certainly have been referred to in the sections in the later law books on mendicants, just as the Vaikhânasa is in the sections of the tâpasas.

It is also very curious to find Brâmana Bhikshus with special class names as if they belonged to an Order like those of the Buddhists and the Gains. No such Brahmanical Orders of recluses (pabbagitâ) are mentioned in the Pitakas. When Brâmana Bhikshus are referred to, it is either as isolated recluses, or by a generic name not implying any separate Order. Thus in an important passage of the Anguttara we have the folowing list of religieux, contemporaries of the Buddha:—
Âgivikâ.
Niganthâ.
Munda-sâvakâ.
Gatilakâ.
Paribbâgakâ.
Magandikâ.
Tedandikâ.
Aviruddhakâ.
Gotamakâ.
Devadhammikâ.
No. 1. The men of the livelihood, among whom Makkhali Gosâ was a recognised leader, were especially addicted to {} tapas of all kinds, and went always quite naked. The name probably means: 'Those who claimed to be especially strict in their rules as to means of livelihood.' The Buddhists also laid special stress on this. The fifth of the eight divisions of the Eightfold Path is sammâ âgîvo{1}.

No. 2. The Unfettered are the sect we now call Gains, then under the leadership of the Nâtaputta. They were also addicted, but to a somewhat less degree, to tapas; and Buddhaghosa here adds that they wore a loin cloth.

No. 3. The disciples of the Shaveling are stated by Buddhaghosa to be the same as No. 2. The reading is doubtful, and his explanation requires explanation. Perhaps some special subdivision of the Gains is intended.

No. 4. Those who wear their hair in braids. To do so was the rule for the orthodox hermits (the Vânaprasthas or Tâpasas, Gautama III, 34). The Brâmana Bhikshu, on the other hand, was either to be bald, or to have only a forelock (ibid. 22).

No. 5. The wanderers. This is a generic term for wandering mendicants. They went, according to Buddhaghosa, fully clad.

Nos. 6-10 are said by Buddhaghosa to be followers of the Titthiyâ, that is the leaders of all schools that were non-Buddhist. It is precisely here that the list becomes most interesing, the first five names being otherwise known. And it is much to be regretted that the tradition had not preserved any better explanation of the terms that the vague phrase repeated by Buddhaghosa.

No. 6 is quite unintelligible at present.

No. 7.* The Bearers of the triple staff* have not been found elsewhere, as yet, earlier than the latest part of Manu (XII, 10). It is very possibly the name given in the Buddhist community to the Brahmana Bhikshus (not Tâpasas). They carried three staves bound up as one, as a sign, it is supposed, of their self-restraint in thought, word, and deed. This explanation may possibly hold good for so early a date. But it may also be nothing more than an edifying gloss on an old word whose original meaning had been forgotten. In that case the gloss would be founded on such passages as Gaut. III, 17{2}, where the idea of this threefold division of conduct recurs in the law books. But the technical term tridandin is not mentioned in them.

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No.8. The not opposing ones, the Friends, are not mentioned elsewhere.

No. 9. The followers of Gotama means, almost certainly, the followers of some other member of the Sâkya clan, distinct from our Gotama, who also founded an Order. We only know of one who did so, Devadatta. The only alternative is that some Brâmana, belonging to the Gotama gotra, is here referred to as having had a community of Bhikshus named after him. But we know nothing of any such person.

No. 10. Those who follow the religion of the God are not mentioned elsewhere, Who is 'the God'? Is it Sakka (Indra) or Siva? The Deva of the names Devadatta, Devasetthi, Devadaha, &c, is probably the same.

We find in this suggestive list several names, used technically as the designation of particular sects, but in meaning applicable quite as much to most of the others. They all claimed to be pure as regards means of livelihood, to be unfettered, to be friends; they all wandered from place to place, they were all mendicants. And the names can only gradually have come to have the special meaning of the member of one school, or order, only. We should not, therefore, be surprised if the name Bhikshu, also, has had a similar history{1}.

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VIII. KASSAPA-SÎHANÂDA SUTTA.

[THE NAKED ASCETIC.]

Thus have I heard. The Blessed One was once dwelling at Uguññâ, in the Kannakatthala deer-park{1}. Now Kassapa, a naked ascetic, came to where the Exalted One was, and exchanged with him the greetings and compliments of civility and courtesy, and stood respectfully aside. And, so standing, he said to the Exalted One: 'I have heard it said, O Gotama, thus: "The Samana Gotama disparages all penance; verily he reviles and finds fault with every ascetic, with every one who lives a hard life." Now those, O Gotama, who said this, were they therein repeating Gotama's words, and not reporting him falsely? Are they announcing, as a minor tenet of his, a matter really following from his Dhamma (his system)? Is there nothing in this opinion of his, so put forward as wrapt up with his system, or as a corollary from it, that could meet with objection{2}? For we would fain bring no false accusation against the venerable Gotama.' 'No, Kassapa. Those who said so were not {} following my words, On the contrary, they were reporting me falsely. and at variance with the fact, 'Herein, O Kassapa, I am wont to be aware, with vision bright and purified, seeing beyond what men can see, how some men given to asceticism, living a hard life, are reborn, on the dissolution of the body, after death, into some unhappy, fallen state of misery and woe; while others, living just so, are reborn into some happy state, or into a heavenly world—how some men given to asceticism, but living a life less hard, are equally reborn, on the dissolution of the body, after death into some unhappy, fallen state of misery and woe; while others, living just so, are reborn in some happy state, or into a heavenly world. How then could I, O Kassapa, who am thus aware, as they really are, of the states whence men have come, and whither they will go, as they pass away from one form of existence, and take shape in another,—how could I disparage all penance; or bluntly revile and find fault with every ascetic, with every one who lives a life that is hard?

Now there are, O Kassapa, certain recluses and Brahmans who are clever, subtle, experiences in controversy, hair splitters, who go about, one would think, breaking itno pieces by teir wisdom the speculations of their adversaries. And as between them and me there is, as to some points, agreement, and as to some points, not. As to some of those things they approve, we also approve thereof. As to some of those things they disapprove, we also disapprove thereof. As to some of the things they approve, we disapprove thereof. As to some of the things they disapprove, we approve thereof. And some things we approve of, so do they. And some things we disapprove of, so do they And some things we approve, they do not. And some things we disapprove of, they approve of.
'And I went to them, and said: "As for those things, my friends, on which we do not agree, let us leave them alone. As to those things on which we {} agree, let the wise put questions about them, ask for reasons as to them, talk them over, with or to their teacher, with or to their fellow disciples; saying: 'Those conditions of heart, Sirs, which are evil or accounted as evil among you, which are blameworthy or accounted as such among you, which are insufficient for the attainment of Arahatship, or accounted as such among you, depraved or accounted as such among you—who is it who conducts himself as one who has more absolutely put them away from him, the Samana Gotama, or the other venerable ones, the teachers of schools?'"
'Then it may well be, O Kassapa, that the wise, so putting questions one to the other, asking for reasons, talking the matter over, should say: "The Samana Gotama conducts himself as one who has absolutely put those conditions away from him; whereas the venerable ones, the other teachers of schools, have done so only partially." Thus is it, O Kassapa, that the wise, so putting questions one to the other, asking for reasons, talking the matter over, would, for the most part, speak in praise of us therein.

'And again, O Kassapa, let the wise put questions one to another, ask for reasons, talk the matter over, with or to their teacher, with or to their fellow disciples, saying: "Those conditions of heart, Sirs, which are good or accounted as such among you, which are blameless or accounted as such among you, which suffice to lead a man to ArahatShip or are accounted as sufficient among you, which are pure or accounted as such among you—who is it who conducts himself as one who has more completely taken them upon him, the Samana Gotama, or the other venerable ones, the teachers of schools?"
'Then it may wen be, O Kassapa, that the wise, so putting questions one to the other, asking for reasons, talking the matter over, should say: "The Samana Gotama conducts himself as one who has completely taken these conditions upon him, whereas the venerable {} ones, the other teachers of schools, have done so only partially." Thus it is, O Kassapa, that the wise, so putting questions one to the other, asking for reasons, talking the matter over, would, for the most part, speak in praise of us therein.

9-12. '[And further, also, O Kassapa, the wise would, for the most part, acknowledge that the body of my disciples were more addicted to that which is generally acknowledged to be good, refrain themselves more completely from that which is generally acknowledged to be evil, than the venerable ones, the disciples of other teachers{1}.]
'Now there is, O Kassapa, a way, there is a method which if a man follow he will of himself, both see and know that: "The Samana Gotama is one who speaks in due season, speaks that which is, that which redounds to advantage, that which is the Norm (the Dhamma), that which is the law of self-restraint (the Vinaya)."

'And what, Kassapa, is that way, what that method, which if a man follow, he will, of himself, know that, and see that. Verily it is this Noble Eightfold Path, that is to say: Right Views, Right Aspirations, Right Speech, Right Action, Right Mode of Livelihood, Right Effort, Right Mindfulness, and Right Rapture.

'This, Kassapa, is that way, this that method, which if a man follow, he will of himself, both know and see that: "The Samana Gotama is one who speaks in due season, speaks that which is, that which redounds to profit, that which is the Norm, that which is the law of self-restraint."'
And when he had spoken thus, Kassapa, the naked ascetic, said to the Exalted One:
'And so also, Gotama, are the following ascetic practices accounted, in the opinion of some Samanas {} and Brâhmanas, as Samana-ship and Brâhmana-ship{1}.—.

'He goes naked:—

'He is of loose habits (performing his bodily functions, and eating food, in a standing posture, not crouching down, or sitting down, as well-bred people do):—

'He licks his hands clean (after eating, instead of washing them, as others do){2}:—

'(When on his rounds for alms, if politely requested to step nearer, or to wait a moment, in order that food may be put into his bowl), he passes stolidly on (lest he should incur the guilt of following another person's word):—

'He refuses to accept food brought (to him, before he has started on his daily round for alms):—

'He refuses to accept (food) if told that it has been prepared) especially for him:—

'He refuses to accept any invitation (to call on his rounds at any particular house, or to pass along any particular street) or to go to any particular place):—
'He will not accept (food taken direct) from the mouth of the pot or pans (in which it is cooked; lest {} those vessels should be struck or scraped, on his account, with the spoon):—

'(He will) not (accept food placed) within the threshold (lest it should have been placed there specially for him):—

'(He will) not (accept food placed) among the sticks{1} (lest it should have been placed there specially for him):—

'(He will) not (accept food place) among the pestles (lest it should have been placed there specially for him):—

'When two persons are eating together he wil not accept (food, taken from what they are eating, if offered to him by only one of the two):—

'He will not accept food from a woman with child (lest the child should suffer want):—

'He will not accept food from a woman giving suck (lest the milk should grow less):—

'He will not accept food from a woman in intercourse with a man{2} (lest their intercourse be hindered):—

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'He will not accept food collected (by the faithful in time of drought){1}:—

'He will not accept food where a dog is standing by (lest the dog should lose a meal):—

'He will not accept food where flies are swarming round (lest the flies should suffer):—

'He will not accept fish, nor meat, nor strong drink, nor intoxicants, nor gruel{2}:—

'He is a "One-houser" (turning back from his round as soon as he has received an alms at any one house), a "One-mouthful-man":—

'Or he is a "Two-houser," a "Two-mouthful-man":—

'Or he is a "Seven-houser," a "Seven-mouthful-man":—

'He keeps himself going on only one alms{3}, or only two, or so on up to only seven:—

'He takes food only once a day, or once every two days, or so on up to once every seven days. Thus does he dwell addicted to the practice of taking food according to rule, at regular intervals, up to even half a month.

'And so also, Gotama, are the following ascetic practices accounted, in the opinion of some Samanas and Brâhmanas, as Samanaship and Brâhmanaship:—

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'He feeds on potherbs, on wild rice{1}, on Nivâra seeds, on leather parings{2}, on the water-plant called Hata, on the fine powder which adheres to the grains of rice beneath the husk, on the discarded scum of boiling rice, on the flour of oil-seeds{3}, on grasses, on cow-dung, on fruits and roots from the woods, on fruits that have fallen of themselves.

'And so also, Gotama, are the following ascetic practices accounted, in the opinion of some Samanas and Brâhmanas, as Samanaship and Brâhmanaship:—

'He wears coarse hempen cloth:—

'He wears coarse cloth of interwoven hemp and other materials:—

'He wears cloths taken from corpses and thrown away{4}:—

'He wears clothing made of rags picked up from a dust heap:—

'He wears clothing made of the bark of the Tiritaka tree{6}:—

'He wears the natural hide of a black antelope:—

'He wears a dress made of a network of strips of a black antelope's hide{6}:—

'He wears a dress made of Kusa grass fibre:—

'He wears a garment of bark:—

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'He wears a garment made of small slips or slabs of wood (shingle) pieced together{1}:—

'He wears, as a garment, a blanket of human hair{2}:—

'He wears, as a garment, a blanket made of horses' tails{3}:—

'He wears, as a garment, a blanket made of the feathers of owls:—

'He is a "plucker-out-of-hair-and-beard," addicted to the practice of plucking out both hair and beard:—

'He is a "stander-up," rejecting the use of a seat:—

'He is a "croucher-down-on-the-heels," addicted to exerting himself when crouching down on his heels{4}:—

'He is a "bed-of-thorns-man," putting iron spikes or natural thorns under the skin on which he sleeps{5}:—

'He uses a plank bed:—

'He sleeps on the bare ground{6}:—

'He sleeps always on one side:—

'He is a "dust-and-dirt-wearer," (smearing his body with oil he stands where dust clouds blow, and lets the dust adhere to his body):—

'He lives and sleeps in the open air{7}:—
'Whatsoever seat is offered to him, that he accepts {} (without being offended at its being not dignified enough):—

'He is a "filth-eater," addicted to the practice of feeding on the four kinds of filth (cow-dung, cow's urine, ashes, and clay){1}:—

'He is a "non-drinker," addicted to the practice of never drinking cold water (lest he should injure the souls in it){2}:—

'He is an "evening-third-man," addicted to the practice of going down into water thrice a day (to wash away his sins).

'If a man, O Kassapa, should go naked, and be of loose habits, and lick his hands clean with his tongue, and do and be all those other things you gave in detail, down to his being addicted to the practice of taking food, according to rule, at regular intervals up to even half a month—if he does all this, and the state of blissful attainment in conduct, in heart, in intellect, have not been practised by him, realised by him, then is he far from Samanaship, far from Brâhmanaship. But from the time, O Kassapa, when a Bhikkhu has cultivated the heart of love that knows no anger, that knows no illwill—from the time when, by the destruction of the deadly intoxications (the lusts of the flesh, the lust after future life, and the defilements of delusion and ignorance), he dwells in that emancipation of heart, that emancipation of mind, that is free from those intoxications, and that he, while yet in this visible world, has come to realise and know-from that time, O Kassapa, is it that the Bhikkhu is called a Samana, is called a Brâhmana!'

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'And if a man, O Kassapa, feed on potherbs, on wild rice, on Nivâra seeds, or on any of those other things you gave in detail down to fruits that have fallen of themselves, and the state of blissful attainment in conduct, in heart, in intellect, have not been practised by him, realised by him, then is he far from Samanaship, far from Brâhmanaship. But from the time, O Kassapa, when a Bhikkhu has cultivated the heart of love that knows no anger, that knows no illwill—from the time when, by the destruction of the deadly intoxications (the lusts of the flesh, the lust after future life, and the defilements of delusion and ignorance), he dwells in that emancipation of heart, that emancipation of mind, that is free from those intoxications, and that he, while yet in this visible world, has come to realise and know—from that time, O Kassapa, is it that the Bhikkhu is called a Samana, is called a Brâhmana!

'And if a man, O Kassapa, wear coarse hempen cloth, or carry out all or any of those other practices you gave in detail down to bathing in water three times a day, and the state of blissful attainment in conduct, in heart, in intellect, have not been practised by him, realised by him, then is he far from Samanaship, far from Brâhmanaship. But from the time, O Kassapa, when a Bhikkhu has cultivated the heart of love that knows no anger, that knows no illwill—from the time when, by the destruction of the deadly intoxications (the lusts of the flesh, the lust after future life, and the defilements of delusion and ignorance), he dwells in that emancipation of heart, that emancipation of mind, that is free from those intoxications, and that he, while yet in this visible world, has come to realise and know—from that time, O Kassapa, is it that the Bhikkhu is called a Samana, is called a Brâhmana!'

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And when he had thus spoken, Kassapa, the naked ascetic, said to the Blessed One: 'How hard then, Gotama, must Samanaship be to gain, how hard must Brâhmanaship be!'

'That, Kassapa, is a common saying in the world that the life of a Samana and of a Brâhmana is hard to lead. But if the hardness, the very great hardness, of that life depended merely on this ascetism, on the carrying out of any or all of those practices you have detailed, then it would not be fitting to say that the life of the Samana, of the Brâhmana, was hard to lead. It would be quite possible for a householder, or for the son of a householder, or for any one, down to the slave girl who carries the water-jar, to say: "Let me now go naked, let me become of low habits," and so on through all the items of those three lists of yours. But since, Kassapa, quite apart from these matters, quite apart from all kinds of penance, the life is hard, very hard to lead; therefore is it that it is fitting to say: "How hard must Samanaship be to gain, how hard must Brâhmanaship be!" For from the time, O Kassapa, when a Bhikkhu has cultivated the heart of love that knows no anger, that knows no illwill—from the time when, by the destruction of the deadly intoxications (the lusts of the flesh, the lust after future life, and the defilements of delusion and ignorance), he dwells in that emancipation of heart, in that emancipation of mind, that is free from those intoxications, and that he, while yet in this visible world, has come to realise and know—from that time, O Kassapa, is it that the Bhikkhu is called a Samana, is called a Brâhmana{1}!'

And when he had thus spoken, Kassapa, the naked ascetic, said to the Blessed One: 'Hard is it, Gotama, to know when a man is a Samana, hard to know when a man is a Brâhmana!'
'That, Kassapa, is a common saying in the world {} that it is hard to know a Samana, hard to know a Brâhmana. But if being a Samana, if being a Brâhmana, depended merely on this asceticism, on the carrying out of any or each of those practices you have detailed, then it would not be fitting to say that a Samana is hard to recognise, a Brâhmana is hard to recognise. It would be quite possible for a householder, or for the son of a householder, or for any one down to the slave girl who carries the water-jar, to know: "This man goes naked, or is of loose habits, or licks his fingers with his tongue," and so on through all the items of those three lists of yours. But since, Kassapa, quite apart from these matters, quite apart from all kinds of penance, it is hard to recognise a Samana, hard to recognise a Brâhmana, therefore is it fitting to say: "Hard is it to know when a man is a Samana, to know when a man is a Brâhmana!" For from the time, O Kassapa, when a Bhikkhu has cultivated the heart of love that knows no anger, that knows no illwill—from the time when, by the destruction of the deadly intoxications (the lusts of the flesh, the lust after future life, and the defilements of delusion and ignorance), he dwells in that emancipation of heart, in that emancipation of mind, that is free from those intoxications, and that he, while yet in this visible world, has come to realise and know—from that time, O Kassapa, is it that the Bhikkhu is called a Samana, is called a Brâhmana!'

And when he had thus spoken, Kassapa, the naked ascetic, said to the Blessed One: 'What then, Gotama, is that blissful attainment in conduct, in heart, and in mind?'

[The answer [171-173] is all the paragraphs in the Sâmanna-phala translated above, and here divided as follows:—

Under Conduct (Sila).
The paragraphs on the appearance of a Buddha, the conversion of a layman, his entry into the Order (§§ 40-42 above, pp. 78-79).

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The Sîlas, as in the Brahma-gâla, §§ 8-27. See above, pp. 57, 58.
The paragraph on Confidence (§ 63 above, ).

Under the heart (Kitta).
The paragraph on 'Guarded is the door of his senses' (§ 64 above, pp. 79, 80).
The paragraph on 'Mindful and Self-possessed' (§ 65 above, pp. 80, 81).
The paragraph on Simplicity of Life, being content with little (§ 66 above, ).
The paragraphs on Emancipation from the Five Hindrances—covetousness, ill-temper, laziness, worry, and perplexity (§§ 67-74 above, pp. 82-84).

The paragraph on the Joy and Peace, that, as a result of this emancipation, fills his whole being (§ 75 above, ).
The paragraphs on the Four Ecstasies (Ghânas,—§§ 75-82 above, pp. 84-86).

Under Intelligence (Paññâ).
The paragraphs on the Insight arising from Knowledge (Ñâna-dassana,—§§ 83, 84 above, pp. 86, 87.)
The paragraphs on the power of projecting mental images (§§ 85, 86 above, ).
The paragraphs on the five modes of special intuition (abhiññâ):— a. The practice of Iddhi. b. Hearing heavenly sounds. c. Knowledge of other people's thoughts. d. Knowledge of one's own previous births. e. Knowledge of other people's previous births.
The realisation of the Four Noble Truths, the destruction of the Intoxications, and the attainment of Arahatship.]
'And there is no other state of blissful attainment {} in conduct and heart and mind which is, Kassapa, higher and sweeter than this{1}.
'Now there are some recluses and Brahmans, Kassapa, who lay emphasis on conduct. They speak, in various ways, in praise of morality. But so far as regards the really noble, the highest conduct, I am aware of no one who is equal to myself, much less superior. And it is I who have gone the furthest therein; that is, in the highest conduct (of the Path).

'There are some recluses and Brahmans, Kassapa, who lay emphasis on self-mortification, and scrupulous care of others. They speak in various ways in praise of self-torture and of austere scrupulousness. But so far as regards the really noblest, the highest sort of self-mortification and scrupulous regard for others, I am aware of no one else who is equal to myself, much less superior. And it is I who have gone the furthest therein; that is, in the highest sort of scrupulous regard for others{2}.

'There are some recluses and Brahmans, Kassapa, who lay emphasis on intelligence. They speak, in various ways, in praise of intelligence. But so far as regards the really noblest, the highest intelligence, I am aware of no one else who is equal to myself, much less superior. And it is I who have gone the furthest therein; that is, in the highest Wisdom{3} (of the Path).

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'There are some recluses and Brahmans, Kassapa, who lay emphasis on emancipation. They speak, in various ways, in praise of emancipation. But so far as regards the really noblest, the highest emancipation, I am aware of no one else who is equal to myself, much less superior. And it is I who have gone the furthest therein; that is, in the most complete emancipation (of the Path).

'Now it may well be, Kassapa, that the recluses of adverse schools may say: "The Samana Gotama utters forth a lion's roar; but it is in solitude that he roars, not where men are assembled." Then should they be answered: "Say not so. The Samana Gotama utters his lion's roar, and that too in the assemblies where men congregate."
'And it may well be, Kassapa, that the recluses of adverse schools should thus, in succession, raise each of the following objections:— "But it is not in full confidence that he roars:— "But men put no questions to him:— "But even when questioned, he cannot answer:— "But even when he answers, he gives no satisfaction by his exposition of the problem put:— "But men do not hold his opinion worthy to be listened to:— "But even when men listen to his word, they experience no conviction therefrom:— "But even when convinced, men give no outward sign of their faith:— "But even when they give such outward sign, they arrive not at the truth:— "But even when they arrive at the truth they cannot carry it out:"—
'Then in each such case, Kassapa, they should be answered as before, until the answer runs:—"Say not so. For the Samana Gotama both utters forth his {} lion's roar, and that too in assemblies where men congregate, and in full confidence in the justice of his claim, and men put their questions to him on that, and on being questioned he expounds the problem put, and by his exposition thereof satisfaction arises in their hearts, and they hold it worthy to listen to his word, and in listening to it they experience conviction, and being convinced they give outward signs thereof, and they penetrate even to the truth, and having grasped it they are able also to carry the truth out!

'I was staying once, Kassapa, at Râgagaha, on the hill called the Vulture's Peak. And there a follower of the same mode of life as yours, by name Nigrodha, asked me a question about the higher forms of austere scrupulousness of life. And having been thus questioned I expounded the problem put. And when I had thus answered what he asked, he was well pleased, as if with a great joy{1}:

'And who, Sir, on hearing the doctrine of the Exalted One, would not be well pleased, as if with a great joy. I also, who have now heard the doctrine of the Exalted One, am thus well pleased, even as if with a great joy. Most excellent, Lord, are the words of thy mouth, most excellent, just as if a man were to set up what has been thrown down, or were to reveal that which has been hidden away, or were to point out the right road to him who has gone astray, or were to bring a lamp into the darkness, so that those who have eyes could see external forms—just even so, Lord, has the truth been made known to me, in many a figure, by the Exalted One. And I, even I, betake myself as my guide to the Exalted One, and to the Doctrine, and to the Brotherhood. I would fain, Lord, renounce the world under the Exalted One; I would fain be admitted to his Order.'
'Whosoever, Kassapa, having formerly been a member of another school, wishes to renounce the world and receive initiation in this doctrine and {} discipline, he temains in probation for four months{1}. And at the end of the four months the brethren, exalted in spirit, give him initiation, and receive him into the Order, raising him up into the state of a Bhikkhu. But nevertheless I recognise, in such cases, the distinction there may be between individuals.'

'Since, Lord, the four months' probation is the regular custom, I too, then, will remain on probation for that time. Then let the brethren, exalted in spirit, give me initiation and raise me up into the state of a Bhikkhu.'

So Kassapa, the naked ascetic, received initiation, and was admitted to membership of the Order under the Exalted One. And from immediately after his initiation the venerable Kassapa remained alone and separate, earnest, zealous, and master of himself. And e'er long he attained to that supreme goal{2} for the sake of which clansmen go forth from the household life into the homeless state: yea, that supreme goal did he, by himself, and while yet in this visible world, bring himself to the knowledge of, and continue to realise, and to see face to face. And he became sure that rebirth was at an end for him, that the higher life had been fulfilled, that everything that should be done had been accomplished, and that after this present life there would be no beyond!

And so the venerable Kassapa became yet another among the Arahats.

Here ends the Kassapa-Sihanada Suttanta{3}.

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INTRODUCTION

POTTHAPÂDA SUTTA.

THIS Sutta, beginning with a discussion on the mystery of trance, passes over, by a natural transition, or association of ideas, to the question of soul. For trance (as is pointed out by Potthapâda in § 6) had been explained by adherents of the soul theory as produced by the supposed fact of a 'soul' having gone away out of the body.

As is well known, this hypothesis of a soul inside the body has been adopted, and no doubt quite independently, among so many different peoples in all parts of the world that it may fairly be described as almost universal. It is even by no means certain that it has not been quite universal; in which case its adoption is probably a necessary result of the methods of thought possible to men in early times. But it is, unfortunately, very easy for us, who now no longer use the word 'soul' exclusively in its original sense, to misunderstand the ancient view, and to import into it modern conceptions{1}. The oldest and simplest form of the hypothesis was frankly materialistic. The notion was that of a double—shadowy, no doubt, and impalpable—but still a physical double of the physical body; and made up, like the body, of the four elements.

When the 'soul' was away the body lay still, without moving, apparently without life, in trance, or disease, or sleep. When the 'soul' came back, motion began again, and life. Endless were the corollaries of a theory which, however devoid of the essential marks of a sound scientific hypothesis, underlies every variety of early speculation in India, as elsewhere.
Long before the date of the earliest records of Indian belief this theory, among the ancestors of the men to whom we owe those records, had gone through a whole course of development of which the Vedas show us only the results. They take the theory so completely for granted that thc {} details of it, as they held it, are nowhere set out in full, or in any detail. The hypothesis having been handed down from time immemorial, and being accepted by all, it was considered amply sufficient to refer to it in vague and indirect phraseology{1}. And the stage which the theory had reached before the time when our Sutta was composed can only be pieced together imperfectly from incidental references in the Upanishads.

I have collected these references together in the article already referred to (J. R. A. S., 1899), and need here only state the result. This is that the Upanishads show how the whole theory of the priests, as there set out, is throughout based on this old theory of a soul inside the body. The numerous details are full of inconsistencies, more especially on the point, so important to theologians, as to what happens to the soul after it flies away from the body, But not one of these inconsistent views leaves for a moment the basis of the soul theory. That is always taken for granted. And the different views set out in these priestly manuals by no means exhaust the list of speculations about the soul that must have been current in India when Buddhism arose, and when our Sutta was composed. There were almost certainly other views, allied to one or other of the thirty-two theories controverted above (pp. 44, 45), A careful search would no doubt reveal passages, even in the later priestly literature itself, acknowledging views which do not happen to be referred to in the Upanishads, but which bear the stamp of great antiquity—such passages as Mahâbhârata XII, 11704, where we are told that if the soul, in departing from the body, goes out by way of the knees, it will go to the Sâdhyas.
However, that may be, it is certain that all the religions, and all the philosophies, the existing records show to have existed in India, in the time when Buddhism arose, are based on this belief in a subtle but material 'soul' inside the body, and in shape like the body. It would scarcely be going too far to say that all religions, and all philosophies, then existing in the world, were based upon it. Buddhism stands alone among the religions of India in ignoring the soul. The vigour and originality of this new departure are evident from the complete isolation in which Buddhism stands, in this respect, from all other religious systems then existing in the world. And the very great difficulty which those European writers, who are still steeped in animistic {} preconceptions, find in appreciating, or even understanding the doctrine, may help us to realise how difficult it must have been for the originator of it to take so decisive and so far-reaching a step in religion and philosophy, at so early a period in the history of human thought.

Nearly a quarter of a century ago I put this in the forefront of my first exposition of Buddhism. The publication, since then, of numerous texts has shown how the early Buddhist writers had previously followed precisely the same method{1}. They reserve, as is only natural, the enthusiasm of their poetry and eloquence for the positive side of their doctrine, for Arahatship. But the doctrine of the impermanence of each and every condition, physical or mental; the absence of any abiding principle, any entity, any sub-stance, any 'soul' (anikkatâ, nissattatâ, niggîvatâ, anattalakkhanatâ, na h'ettha sassato bhâvo attâ vâ upalabbhati) is treated, from the numerous points of view from which it can be approached, in as many different Suttas.

For the most part, one point only is dealt with in each text. In our Sutta it is, in the first place, the gradual change of mental conditions, of states of consciousness: and then, secondly, the point that personality, individuality (attapatilâbho) is only a convenient expression in common use in the world, and therefore made use of also by the Tathâgata, but only in such a manner that he is not led astray by its ambiguity, by its apparent implication of some permanent entity.

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IX. POTTHAPÂDA SUTTA.

[THE SOUL THEORY.]

Thus have I heard. The Exalted One was once staying at Sâvatthi in Anâtha Pindika's pleasaunce in the Geta Wood. Now at that time Potthapâda{1}, the wandering mendicant, was dwelling at the hall put up in Queen Mallikâ's park for the discussion of systems of opinion—the hall set round with a row of Tinduka trees, and known by the name of 'The Hall{2}.' And there was with him a great following of mendicants; to wit, three hundred mendicants.

2{3}. Now the Exalted One, who had put on his under garment in the early morning, proceeded in his robes, and with his bowl in his hand, into Sâvatthi for alms.

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And he thought: 'It is too early now to enter Sâvatthi for alms. Let me go to the Hall, the debating hall in the Mallikâ Park, where Potthapâda is.' And he did so.

Now at that time Potthapâda was seated with the company of the mendicants all talking with loud voices, with shouts and tumult, all sorts of worldly talk: to wit, tales of kings, of robbers, of ministers of state; tales of war, of terrors, of battles; talks about foods and drinks, about clothes and beds and garlands and perfumes; talks about relationships; talks about equipages, villages, towns, cities, and countries; tales about women and heroes; gossip such as that at street corners, and places whence water is fetched; ghost stories; desultory chatter; legends about the creation of the land or sea; and speculations about existence and non-existence{1}.

And Potthapâda, the mendicant, caught sight of the Exalted One approaching in the distance. And at the sight of him he called the assembly to order, saying: 'Be still, venerable Sirs, and make no noise. Here is the Samana Gotama coming. Now that venerable one delights in quiet, and speaks in praise of quietude. How well it were if, seeing how quiet the assembly is, he should see fit to join us!' And when he spake thus, the mendicants kept silence.
Now the Exalted One came on to where Potthapâda, the mendicant was. And the latter said to him:

'May the Exalted One come near. We bid him welcome. It is long since the Exalted One took the departure{2} of coming our way. Let him take a seat. Here is a place spread ready.'

And the Exalted One sat down. And Potthapâda, the mendicant, brought a low stool, and sat down beside him. And to him thus seated the Exalted One said:

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'What was the subject, Potthapâda, that you were seated here together to discuss; and what was the talk among you that has been interrupted?'
And when he had thus spoken, Potthapâda said:

'Never mind, Sir, the subject we were seated together to discuss. There will be no difficulty in the Exalted One hearing afterwards about that. But long ago, Sir, on several occasions, when various teachers, Samanas and Brahmans, had met together, and were seated in the debating hall, the talk fell on trance{1}, and the question was: "How then, Sirs, is the cessation of consciousness brought about?"

'Now on that some said thus: "Ideas come to a man without a reason and without a cause, and so also do they pass away. At the time when they spring up within him, then he becomes conscious; when they pass away, then he becomes unconscious." Thus did they explain the cessation of consciousness.

'On that another said: "That, Sirs, will never be so as you say. Consciousness, Sirs, is a man's soul. It is the soul that comes and goes. When the soul comes into a man then he becomes conscious, when the soul goes away out of a man then he becomes unconscious." Thus do others explain the cessation of consciousness{2}.

'On that another said: "That, Sirs, will never be as you say. But there are certain Samanas and Brahmans of great power and influence. It is they who infuse consciousness into a man, and draw it away out of him. When they infuse it into him he becomes conscious, when they draw it away he becomes unconscious." Thus do others explain the cessation of consciousness{3}.

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'Then, Sir, the memory of the Exalted One arose in me, and I thought: "Would that the Exalted One, would that the Happy One were here, he who is so skilled in these psychical states." For the Exalted One would know how trance is brought about{1}.' How, then, Sir, is there cessation of consciousness?'

'Well, as to that, Potthapâda, those Samanas and Brahmans who said that ideas come to a man and pass away without a reason, and without a cause, are wrong from the very commencement. For it is precisely through a reason, by means of a cause, that ideas come and go. By training some ideas arise. By training others pass away.

'And what is that training?' continued the Exalted One.

[He then sets out the first part of the system of self-training for the Bhikkhu, as translated above, pp. 78-84, from the Sâmañña-phala, as follows:— The introductory paragraphs on the appearance of a Buddha, his preaching, the conviction of a hearer and his renunciation of the world. The tract on the Sîlas, the minor details of mere morality. The paragraphs on Confidence. The paragraphs on 'Guarded is the door of his senses.' The paragraphs on 'Mindful and Self-possessed.' The paragraphs on Solitude. The paragraphs on the conquest of the Five Hindrances.

And goes on:]
'But when he has realised that these Five Hindrances have been put away from within him, a gladness springs up within him, and joy arises to him thus gladdened, and so rejoicing all his frame {} becomes at ease, and being thus at ease he is filled with a sense of peace, and in that peace his heart is stayed. Then estranged from lusts, aloof from evil dispositions, he enters into and remains in the First Rapture (the First Ghâna)—a state of joy and ease born of detachment, reasoning and investigation going on the while. Then that idea, (that consciousness){1}, of lusts, that he had before, passes away. And thereupon there arises within him a subtle, but actual, consciousness of the joy and peace arising from detachment, and he becomes a person to whom that idea is consciously present.

'Thus is it that through training one idea, one sort of consciousness, arises; and through training another passes away. This is the training I spoke of,' said the Exalted One.

'And again, Potthapâda, the Bhikkhu, suppressing all reasoning and investigation, enters into and abides in the Second Rapture (the Second Ghâna)—a state of joy and ease, born of the serenity of concentration, when no reasoning or investigation goes on, a state of elevation of mind, a tranquillisation of the heart within. Then that subtle, but actual, consciousness of the joy and peace arising from detachment, that he just had, passes away. And thereupon there arises a subtle, but actual, consciousness of the joy and peace born of concentration. And he becomes a person conscious of that.

'Thus also is it that through training one idea, one sort of consciousness, arises; and through training another passes away. This is the training I spoke of,' said the Exalted One.
'And again, Potthapâda, the Bhikkhu, holding aloof from joy, becomes equable; and, mindful and self-possessed, he experiences in his body that ease which the Arahats talk of when they say: "The man serene and self-possessed is well at ease." And so he enters {} into and abides in the Third Rapture (the Third Ghâna). Then that subtle, but yet actual, consciousness, that he just had, of the joy and peace born of concentration, passes away. And thereupon there arises a subtle, but yet actual, consciousness of the bliss of equanimity. And he becomes a person conscious of that.

'Thus also is it that through training one idea, one sort of consciousness, arises; and through training another passes away. This is the training I spoke of,' said the Exalted One.

'And again, Potthapâda, the Bhikkhu, by the putting away alike of ease and of pain, by the passing away of any joy, any elation, he had previously felt, enters into and abides in the Fourth Rapture (the Fourth Ghâna)—a state of pure self-possession and equanimity, without pain and without ease. Then that subtle, but yet actual, consciousness, that he just had, of the bliss of equanimity, passes away. And thereupon there arises to him a subtle, but yet actual, consciousness of the absence of pain, and of the absence of ease{1}. And he becomes a person conscious of that.

'Thus also is it that through training one idea, one sort of consciousness, arises; and through training another passes away. This is the training I spoke of,' said the Exalted One.
'And again, Potthapâda, the Bhikkhu, by passing beyond the consciousness of form, by putting an end to the sense of resistance, by paying no heed to the idea of distinction, thinking: "The space is infinite," reaches up to and remains in the mental state in which {} the mind is concerned only with the consciousness of the infinity of space. Then the consciousness, that he previously had, of form passes away, and there arises in him the blissful consciousness, subtle but yet actual, of his being concerned only with the infinity of space. And he becomes a person conscious of that.

'Thus also is it that through training one idea, one sort of consciousness, arises; and through training another passes away. This is the training I spoke of,' said the Exalted One.

'And again, Potthapâda, the Bhikkhu, by passing quite beyond the consciousness of space as infinite, thinking: "Cognition{1} is infinite," reaches up to and remains in the mental state in which the mind is concerned only with the infinity of cognition. Then the subtle, but yet actual, consciousness, that he just had, of the infinity of space, passes away. And there arises in him a consciousness, subtle but yet actual, of everything being within the sphere of the infinity of cognition. And he becomes a person conscious of that.

'Thus also is it that through training one idea, one sort of consciousness, arises; and through training another passes away. This is the training I spoke of,' said the Exalted One.

'And again, Potthapâda, the Bhikkhu, by passing quite beyond the consciousness of the infinity of cognition, thinking: "There is nothing that really is," reaches up to and remains in the mental state in which the mind is concerned only with the unreality of things. Then that sense of everything being within the sphere of infinite cognition, that he just had, passes away. And there arises in him a consciousness, subtle but yet actual, of unreality as the object of his thought{2}. And he becomes a person conscious of that.

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'Thus also is it that through training one idea, one sort of consciousness, arises; and through training another passes away. This is the training I spoke of,' said the Exalted One.

'So from the time, Potthapâda, that the Bhikkhu is thus conscious in a way brought about by himself (from the time of the First Rapture), he goes on from one stage to the next, and from that to the next until he reaches the summit of consciousness. And then he is on the summit it may occur to him: "To be thinking at all is the inferior state. 'Twere better not to be thinking. Were I to go on thinking and fancying{1}, these ideas, these states of consciousness, I have reached to, would pass away, but others, coarser ones, might arise. So I will neither think nor fancy any more." And he does not. And to him neither thinking any more, nor fancying, the ideas, the states of consciousness, he had, pass away; and no others, coarser than they, arise. So he touches cessation. Thus is it, Potthapâda, that the attainment of the cessation of conscious ideas takes place step by step.

'Now what do you think, Potthapâda? Have you ever heard, before this, of this gradual attainment of the cessation of conscious ideas?'

'No, Sir, I have not. But I now understand what you say as follows: [and he repeated the words of section 17.]'

'That is right, Potthapâda{2}.'
'And does the Exalted One teach that there is one summit of consciousness, or that there are several?'

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'In my opinion, Potthapâda, there is one, and there are also several.'

'But how can the Exalted teach that there both is one, and that there are also several?'

'As he attains to the cessation (of one idea, one state of consciousness) after another, so does he reach, one after another, to different summits up to the last. So is it, Potthapâda, that I put forward both one summit and several.'

'Now is it, Sir, the idea, the state of consciousness, that arises first, and then knowledge; or does knowledge arise first, and then the idea, the state of consciousness; or do both arise simultaneously, neither of them before or after the other?'

'It is the idea, Potthapâda, the state of consciousness, that arises first, and after that knowledge. And the springing up of knowledge is dependent on the springing up of the idea, of the state of consciousness{1}. And this may be understood from the fact that a man recognises: "It is from this cause or that that knowledge has arisen to me."'
'Is then, Sir, the consciousness identical with a man's soul, or is consciousness one thing, and the soul another{2}?'

'But what then, Potthapâda? Do you really fall back on the soul?'
'I take for granted{3}, Sir, a material soul, having {} form, built up of the four elements, nourished by solid food{1}.'

'And if there were such a soul, Potthapâda, then, even so, your consciousness would be one thing, and your soul another. That, Potthapâda, you may know by the following considerations. Granting, Potthapâda, a material soul, having form, built up of the four elements, nourished by solid food; still some ideas, some states of consciousness, would arise to the man, and others would pass away. On this account also, Potthapâda, you can see how consciousness must be one thing. and soul another.'

'Then, Sir, I fall back on a soul made of mind, with all its major and minor parts complete, not deficient in any organ{2}.'

'And granting, Potthapâda, you had such a soul, the same argument would apply{3}.'
'Then, Sir, I fall back on a soul without form, and made of consciousness.'

'And granting, Potthapâda, you had such a soul, still the same argument would apply{3}.'

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'But is it possible, Sir, for me to understand whether consciousness is the man's soul, or the one is different from the other?'

'Hard is it for you, Potthapâda, holding, as you do, different views, other things approving themselves to you, setting different aims before yourself, striving after a different perfection, trained in a different system of doctrine, to grasp this matter!'

25-27. 'Then, Sir, if that be so, tell me at least: "Is the world eternal? Is this alone the truth, and any other view mere folly?"'

'That, Potthapâda, is a matter on which I have expressed no opinion.'

[Then, in the same terms, Potthapâda asked each of the following questions;—
Is the world not eternal?—
Is the world finite?—
Is the world infinite?—
Is the soul the same as the body?—
Is the soul one thing, and the body another?—
Does one who has gained the truth live again after death?—
Does he not live again after death?—
Does he both live again, and not live again, after death?—
Does he neither live again, nor not live again, after death?—

And to each question the Exalted One made the same reply:—]{1}

'That too, Potthapâda, is a matter on which I have expressed no opinion.'
'But why has the Exalted One expressed no opinion on that?'
'This question is not calculated to profit, it is not {} concerned with the Norm (the Dhamma), it does not redound even to the elements of right conduct, nor to detachment, nor to purification from lusts, nor to quietude, nor to tranquillisation of heart, nor to real knowledge, nor to the insight (of the higher stages of the Path), nor to Nirvâna. Therefore is it that I express no opinion upon it.'
'Then what is it that the Exalted One has determined?'

'I have expounded, Potthapâda, what pain{1} is; I have expounded what is the origin of pain; I have expounded what is the cessation of pain; I have expounded what is the method by which one may reach the cessation of pain{2}.'
'And why has the Exalted One put forth a statement as to that?'

'Because that question, Potthapâda, is calculated to profit, is concerned with the Norm, redounds to the beginnings of right conduct, to detachment, to purification from lusts, to quietude, to tranquillisation of heart, to real knowledge, to the insight of the higher stages of the Path, and to Nirvâna. Therefore is it, Potthapâda, that I have put forward a statement as to that.'

'That is so, O Exalted One. That is so, O Happy One. And now let the Exalted One do what seemeth to him fit.'

And the Exalted One rose from his seat, and departed thence.
Now no sooner had the Exalted One gone away than those mendicants bore down upon Potthapâda, the mendicant, from all sides with a torrent of jeering and biting words{3}, saying: I Just so, forsooth, this Potthapâda gives vent to approval of whatsoever the Samana {}

Gotama says, with his: "That is so, O Exalted One. That is so, O Happy One." Now we, on the other hand, fail to see that the Samana Gotama has put forward any doctrine that is distinct with regard to any one of the ten points raised.' And they went through them all in detail.

But when they spake thus Potthapâda, the mendicant, replied: 'Neither do I see that he puts forward, as certain, any proposition with respect to those points. But the Samana Gotama propounds a method in accordance with the nature of things, true and fit, based on the Norm, and certain by reason of the Norm. And how could I refuse to approve, as well said, what has been so well said by the Samana Gotama as he propounded that?'

Now after the lapse of two or three days Kitta, the son of the elephant trainer{1}, and Potthapâda, the mendicant, came to the place where the Exalted One was staying. And on their arrival Kitta, the son of the elephant trainer, bowed low to the Exalted One, and took his seat on one side. And Potthapâda, the mendicant, exchanged with the Exalted One the greetings and compliments of courtesy and friendship, and took his seat on one side, and when he was so seated he told the Exalted One how the mendicants had jeered at him, and how he had replied.

'All those mendicants, Potthapâda, are blind, and see not. You are the only one, with eyes to see, among them. Some things, Potthapâda, I have laid down as certain, other things I have declared uncertain.

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The latter are those ten questions that you raised, and for the reasons given I hold them matters of uncertainty. The former are the Four Truths I expounded, and for the reasons given I hold them to be matters of certainty.

'There are some Samanas and Brahmans, Potthapâda, who hold the following opinion, indulge in the following speculation: "The soul is perfectly happy and healthy after death." And I went to them, and asked them whether that was their view or not. And they acknowledged that it was{1}. And I asked them whether, so far as they were in the habit of knowing or perceiving it{2}, the world (that is, the people in the world) was perfectly happy, and they answered: "No."

'Then I asked them: "Or further, Sirs, can you maintain that you yourselves for a whole night, or for a whole day, or even for half a night or day, have ever been perfectly happy?" And they answered: "No."

'Then I said to them: "Or further, Sirs, do you know a way, or a method, by which you can realise a state that is altogether happy?" And still to that question they answered: "No."

'And then I said: "Or have you, Sirs, ever heard the voices of gods who had realised rebirth in a perfectly happy world, saying: 'Be earnest, O men, and direct in effort, towards the realisation of (rebirth in) a world of perfect happiness. For we, in consequence of similar effort, have been reborn in such a world.'" And still they answered: "No."

'Now what think you as to that, Potthapâda? That being so, does not the talk of those Samanas and Brahmans turn out to be without good ground{3}?'

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'Just as if a man should say: "How I long for, how I love the most beautiful woman in the land!"

'And people should ask him: "Well! good friend! this most beautiful woman in the land, whom you so love and long for, do you know whether that beautiful woman is a noble lady, or of priestly rank, or of the trader class, or of menial birth?"

'And when so asked, he should answer: "No."

'And people should ask him: "Well! good friend! This most beautiful woman in the land, whom you so love and long for, do you know what her name is, or her family name, or whether she be tall, or short, or of medium height; whether she be dark or brunette or golden in colour{2}; or in what village, or town, or city she dwells?"—

'And when so asked, he should answer: "No."

'And people should say to him: "So then, good friend, whom you know not, neither have seen, her do you love and long for?"

'And when so asked, he should answer: "Yes."

'Now what think you of that, Potthapâda? Would it not turn out, that being so, that the talk of that man was witless talk?'

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36, 37. 'Then just so also, Potthapâda, with the Samanas and Brahmans who talk about the soul being perfectly happy and healthy after death{1}. It is just, Potthapâda, as if a man were to put up a staircase in a place where four cross roads meet, to mount up thereby on to the upper storey of a mansion. And people should say to him: "Well! good friend! this mansion, to mount up into which you are making this staircase, do you know whether it is in the East, or in the West, or in the South, or in the North? whether it is high, or low, or of medium size?"

'And when so asked, he should answer: "No."

'And people should say to him: "But then, good friend, you are making a staircase to mount up into a mansion you know not of, neither have seen!"

'And when so asked, he should answer: "Yes."

'Now what think you of that, Potthapâda? Would it not turn out, that being so, that the talk of that man was witless talk?'

'For a truth, Sir, that being so, his talk would turn out to be witless talk.'
'[Then surely just so, Potthapâda, with those Samanas and Brahmans who postulate a soul happy and healthy after death. For they acknowledge that they know no such state in this world now. They acknowledge that they cannot say their own souls have been happy here even for half a day. And they acknowledge that they know no way, no method, of ensuring such a result{2}.] Now what think you of that, Potthapâda. That being so, does not their talk, too, turn out to be without good ground?'
'For a truth, Sir, that being so, their talk would turn out to be without good ground: 'The following three modes of personality, Potthapâda, (are commonly acknowledged in the world):—material, immaterial, and formless{3}. The {} first has form, is made up of the four elements, and is nourished by solid food. The second has no form, is made up of mind, has all its greater and lesser limbs complete, and all the organs perfect. The third is without form, and is made up of consciousness only.

40-42. 'Now I teach a doctrine, Potthapâda, with respect to each of these{1}, that leads to the putting off of that personality; so that if you walk according to that doctrine, the evil dispositions one has acquired may be put away{2}; the dispositions which tend to purification{3} may increase; and one may continue to see face to face, and by himself come to realise, the full perfection and grandeur of wisdom.
'Now it may well be, Potthapâda, that you think: "Evil dispositions may be put away, the dispositions {} that tend to purification may increase, one may continue to see face to face, and by himself come to realise, the full perfection and grandeur of wisdom, but one may continue sad." Now that, Potthapâda, would not be accurate judgment. When such conditions are fulfilled, then there will be joy, and happiness, and peace, and in continual mindfulness and self-mastery, one will dwell at ease.

43-45. 'And outsiders, Potthapâda, might question us thus: "What then, Sir, is that material (or that mental, or that formless) mode of personality for the putting away of which you preach such a doctrine as will lead him who walks according to it to get free from the evil dispositions he has acquired, to increase in the dispositions that tend to purification, so that he may continue to see face to face, and by himself come to realise, the full perfection and grandeur of wisdom?" And to that I should reply (describing it in the words I have now used to you{1}): "Why this very personality that you see before you is what I mean."

'Now what think you of that, Potthapâda. That being so, would not the talk turn out to be well grounded?'

'For a truth, Sir, it would.'
'Just, Potthapâda, as if a man should construct a staircase, to mount up into the upper storey of a palace, at the foot of the very palace itself. And men should say to him{2}:
'"Well! good friend! that palace, to mount up into which you are constructing this staircase, do you know whether it is in the East, or in the West, or in the {}

South, or in the North? whether it is high or low or of medium size?"

'And when so asked, he should answer: "Why! here is the very palace itself! It is at the very foot of it I am constructing my staircase with the object of mounting up into it."

'What would you think, Potthapâda, of that? Would not his talk, that being so, turn out to be well grounded?'

'For a truth. Sir it would.'
'Then just so. Potthapâda, when I answer thus{1} to the questions put to me.'
Now when he had thus spoken, Kitta, the son of the elephant trainer, said to the Exalted One: 'At that time, Sir, when a man is in possession of any one of the three modes of personality, are the other two unreal to him then? Is it only the one he has that is real{2}?'

'At the time, Kitta, when any one of the three modes of personality is going on, then it does not come under the category of either of the other two. It is known only by the name of the mode going on.

'If people should ask you, Kitta, thus: "Were you in the past, or not? Will you be in the future. or not? Are you now, or not?"—How would you answer?'

'I should say that I was in the past, and not not; that I shall be in the future, and not not; that I am now, and not not.'

'Then if they rejoined: "Well! that past personality that you had, is that real to you; and the future personality, and the present, unreal? The future personality that you will have, is that real to you; and the past personality, and the present, unreal? The personality that you have now, in the present, is that real to you; and the past personality, and the future, unreal?"—How would you answer?'

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'I should say that the past personality that I had was real to me at the time when I had it; and the others unreal. And so also in the other two cases.'

'Well! Just so, Kitta, when any one of the three modes of personality is going on, then it does not come under the category of either of the other two.

'Just, Kitta, as from a cow comes milk, and from the milk curds, and from the curds butter, and from the butter ghee, and from the ghee junket; but when it is milk it is not called curds, or butter, or ghee, or junket; and when it is curds it is not called by any of the other names; and so on— 'Just so, Kitta, when any one of the three modes of personality is going on, it is not called by the name of the other. For these, Kitta, are merely names, expressions, turns of speech, designations in common use in the world. And of these a Tathâgata (one who has won the truth) makes use indeed, but is not led astray by them{1}.' And when he had thus spoken, Potthapâda, the mendicant, said to the Exalted One:
'Most excellent, Sir, are the words of thy mouth; most excellent! Just as if a man were to set up that which has been thrown down, or were to reveal that which has been hidden away, or were to point out the right road to him who has gone astray, or were to bring a light into the darkness so that those who had eyes could see external forms,—just even so has the truth {} been made known, in many a figure, by the Exalted One. And I, Sir, betake myself to the Exalted One as my guide, to his Doctrine, and to his Order. May the Exalted One accept me as an adherent; as one who, from this day forth as long as life endures, has taken him as his guide.'

But Kitta, the son of the elephant trainer, though he made use of the same words, concluded with the request: 'And may I be permitted to go forth from the world under the Exalted One; may I receive admission into his Order.'

And his request was granted, and he was received into the Order. And from immediately after his initiation Kitta, the son of the elephant trainer, remained alone and separate, earnest, zealous, and resolved. And e'er long he attained to that supreme goal of the higher life for the sake of which the clansmen go forth utterly from the household life to become houseless wanderers—yea! that supreme goal did he, by himself, and while yet in this visible world, bring himself to the knowledge of, and continue to realise, and to see face to face! And he became conscious that rebirth was at an end; that the higher life had been fulfilled; that all that should be done had been accomplished; and that, after this present life, there would be no beyond!

So the venerable Kitta, the son of the elephant trainer, became yet another among the Arahats.

Here ends the Potthapâda Suttanta.

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INTRODUCTION

SUBHA SUTTA.

As this Sutta is almost word for word the same as the Sâmañña-phala, the question arises why it was considered advisable to include it in our collection as a separate Sutta. The chief difference is that the states of mind enumerated in the Sâmañña-phala as fruits of the life of a recluse are here divided under the three heads of Sîla, Samâdhi, and Paññâ (Conduct, Concentration, and Intelligence).

Samâdhi has not yet been found in any Indian book older than the Pitakas. And, as in them, it is used exclusively of a mental state, never in a concrete sense, its meaning is not easy to fix exactly. It is not the same as Ghâna, which is a pre-Buddhistic term applied to four special forms of meditation, culminating in self-induced ecstasy. Samâdhi on the other hand is a constant habit, or faculty, of mind. The oldest Sanskrit text in which it occurs is the Maitrî Upanishad; and it probably has there the same meaning as it has in the Pitakas.

In our prescnt Sutta—and the principal reason for its existence as a separate Sutta is that it points out just this—it is pointed out that Samâdhi includes, it is true, the Ghânas, but also other, and very different things. These are the habit of guarding the doors of one's senses; constant mindfulness and self-possession; and the faculty of being content with little. From the negative point of view it is said to include emancipation from ill-temper, inertness of mind and body, worry, and perplexity; from the positive point of view it is said to include a constant state of joy and peace.

Wilson's Sanskrit Dictionary (1819) gives the meaning 'devout meditation'; and the rendering 'meditation' has been used for it in subsequent works in English by Western scholars. It is quite clear that this would be a very inadequate and misleading rendering in our Sutta. But exigencies of space preclude the discussion here, either of the meaning, or of the very interesting and suggestive history of the word in India.

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How far was the word (literally 'allocation') invented or adopted by the Buddhists, or by their immediate spiritual forerunners, to express 'self-concentration' with implied coordination, harmonisation, of the mental faculties—an idea they wanted, in the statement of their most essential and ethical doctrines, to be used in preference to the more limited, more physical, notion of Ghâna? (It is Samâdhi, and not Ghâna, that we find in the Four Truths, in the Noble Path, and in the thirty-seven constituent parts of Arahatship.) How far, through the constant association of the two ideas, did the larger, as ethical feeling died away, become swallowed up by the smaller? At what date, in what circles, and under what reservations, did the word Samâdhi come to mean nothing more than meditation? The history of the two ideas, Samâdhi and Ghâna, has constant analogies with the history of the two similarly related ideas of Tâpasa and Bhikshu, and, like it, is of the first importance in following the evolution of philosophical and religious thought in India.

I have made some detailed contributions to the discussion of such questions in my 'Yogâvacara Manual' (Pâli Text Society, 1896, pp. xiv-xxviii); and must confine myself, here, to referring to those pages.

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X. SUBHA SUTTA.

[CONDUCT, CONCENTRATION, AND INTELLECT.]

I. 1. Thus have I heard. The venerable Ânanda was once staying at Sâvatthi in the Geta Wood, in Anâtha Pindika's pleasaunce, shortly after the Exalted One had died away{1}. Now at that time the young Brahman Subha, the son of the man of Tudi{2}, was dwelling at Sâvatthi on some business or other.
Now Subha, the young Brahman, addressed a certain young man, and said:

'Come now, young man. Go to the Samana Ânanda, and ask in my name as to whether his sickness and indisposition has abated, as to his health and vigour and condition of ease; and say: "'Twere well if the venerable Ânanda would be so kind as to pay a visit to Subha, the young Brahman, the son of the man of Tudi."'
'Very well, Sir,' said that young man in reply. And he went to the place where the venerable Ânanda was staying, and exchanged with him the greetings and compliments of politeness and courtesy, and took his seat apart. And, so seated, he delivered to the venerable Ânanda the message with which he had been charged.
On hearing that message, the venerable Ânanda said to him:

'It is not just now, young man, convenient, for I have just taken medicine. But perhaps I may be able to go on the morrow, if so be that conditions and opportunity seem fit.'

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Then that young man arose from his seat, and went to Subha, and told him all, and added:

'So, Sir, the matter has been so far accomplished that perhaps the venerable Ânanda may be able to come on the morrow, if so be that conditions and opportunity seem fit.'

And the venerable Ânanda, when the night had passed away, dressed himself early in the morning, and went, in his robes and carrying his bowl, with a Bhikkhu from the Ketiya countrya, as his attendant, to Subha's house, and took his seat on the mat spread out for him. And Subha, the young Brahman, the son of the man of Tudi, came there where he sat, and exchanged with the venerable Ânanda the greetings and compliments of politeness and courtesy, and took his seat on one side. And, so seated, he said to the venerable Ânanda:

'You, Sir, have waited long on the venerable Gotama, constantly near him, continually in his company. You, Sir, will know what were the things the venerable Gotama was wont to praise; to which he used to incite the folk, in which he established them, and made them firm. What were they, Ânanda?'

'Three are the bodies of doctrine, O Brahman, which the Exalted One was wont to praise; to which he used to incite the folk, in which he established them, and made them firm. And what are the three? The so noble body of doctrine regarding right conduct, the so noble body of doctrine regarding self-concentration, the so noble body of doctrine regarding intelligence{1}.'

'And what, Ânanda, is this so noble body of doctrine regarding right conduct (Sîla) in praise of which the venerable Gotama was wont to speak; to which he used to incite the folk, in which he established them, and made them firm?'
[The reply §§ 7-29 is §§ 40-63 of the Sâmañña-phala Sutta, including:

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The appearance of a Buddha, and his preaching.
The awakening of a hearer, and his entry into the Order.
His self-training in act, word, and speech.
The minor details of morality he observes.
The absence of fear, confidence of heart thence resulting.

And the answer concludes the enumeration with the words:—]
'And there is yet something further, according to this system, still to be done.'

'Wonderful is this, Ânanda, and mysterious—both that this so noble group of conduct is well-rounded, not incomplete; and that I perceive no other, like unto it, among the other Samanas and Brâhmanas outside of this communion. And were they also to perceive such in themselves, then would they be satisfied with thus much, and would say: "So far is enough. We have done thus much. The aim of our Samanaship has been reached." But you, Ânanda, on the other hand, say: "There is yet something further, according to your system, still to be done."'

Here ends the First Portion for Recitation in the Subha Sutta.

II. 1. 'And what, Ânanda, is this so noble body of doctrine regarding self-concentration (Samâdhi) in praise of which the venerable Gotama was wont to speak; to which he used to incite the folk, in which he established them, and made them firm?'

[The answer §§ 2-18 is §§ 64-82 of the Sâmañña-phala Sutta, that is to say: The way in which he learns to guard the door of his senses. The constant mindfulness and self-possession that he gains.

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The power of being content with little, with simplicity of life.
The emancipation of heart from the Five Hindrances—covetousness, ill-temper, sloth of body and mind, excitement and worry, and perplexity.
The resulting joy and peace that pervades his bodily frame, and fills his heart.

6-9. The Four Raptures (Ghânas). And the answer is followed by the same injunction as to something further to be done, and the same rejoinder as above in Chapter I, § 30.]
'And what, Ânanda, is this so noble body of doctrine regarding intellect (Paññâ) in praise of which the venerable Gotama was wont to speak; to which he used to incite the folk, in which he established them, and made them firm?'

[The answer, §§ 20-26 is §§ 83, 85, and 97 of the Sâmañña-phala Sutta, that is to say: The Nâna-dassana—the insight which sees that the body is impermanent, and that mind (Viññâna) is bound up with it, has no existence independent of it. The power of calling up mental images. The perception of the Four Truths as to sorrow and the Eightfold Path; the rooting out of one's mind of the Intoxicants (the Asâvas); and the final. assurance, consequent thereon, of Emancipation gained.] 'This, young Brahman, is that so noble body of doctrine regarding intellect, of which that Exalted One was wont to speak in praise; to which he used to incite the folk, in which he established them, and made them firm.'
'Wonderful is this, Ânanda, and mysterious—both that this so noble group of doctrine regarding intellect is well-rounded, not incomplete; and that I perceive no other, like unto it among the other Samanas and Brâhmanas outside of this communion. And {} there is not, in this matter, anything further to be accomplished. Most excellent, Ânanda, are the words of thy mouth, most excellent! Just as if a man were to set up that which has been thrown down, or were to reveal that which has been hidden away, or were to point out the right road to him who has gone astray, or were to bring a light into the darkness so that those who have eyes could see external forms—just even so has the truth been made known to me, in many a figure, by the venerable Ânanda. And I, even I, betake myself to that venerable Gotama as my guide, to the truth, and to the Order. May the venerable Ânanda receive me as an adherent, as one who, from this day forth, as long as life endures. has taken them as his guide.'

Here ends the Subha Suttanta.

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INTRODUCTION

KEVADDHA SUTTA.

IN this Sutta we have the position taken up by the early Buddhists, and no doubt by Gotama himself, as to the practice of the wonders or miracles, in which there was then universal belief.

They were not, however, miracles in our Western sense. There was no interference by an outside power with the laws of nature. It was supposed that certain people, by reason of special (but quite natural) powers, could accomplish certain special acts beyond the power of ordinary men. These acts are eight in number: and as set forth in detail (above, pp. 88, 89) remind us of some (not of all) the powers now attributed to mediums. The belief is not Buddhist. It is pre-Buddhistic, and common to all schools of thought in India.

As usual{1} the Buddha is represented as not taking the trouble to doubt or dispute the fact of the existence of such powers. He simply says that he loathes the practice of them; and that a greater and better wonder than any or all of them is education in the system of self-training which culminates in Arahatship. There is no evidence of a similarly reasonable view of this question of wonders having been put forward by any Indian teacher before the Buddha.
It is very strange that Childers should have stated (Dict. ) that 'Iddhi is the peculiar attribute of the Arahats.' He gives no authority for the statement. Devadatta, who was the very reverse of an Arahat, was noted for his power of Iddhi. And of the many Arahats mentioned in the books, only one or two, notably Moggallâna, were famed for this acquirement. They could have it, of course; just as they could have any craft or skill of the unconverted. But the eight powers referred to above are called the pothugganikâ- or puthugganikâ-iddhi{2} or âmisâ-iddhi{3}; that is, precisely {} not an attribute of the Arahats, or even of men in the lower stages of the Path, but of the worldly, the unconverted, a practice carried out for worldly gain.

We have the Iddhi, the majestic movement, of animals{1}—the Iddhi, the glory and majesty and potency, of a king{2}—the Iddhi, the prosperity and splendour, of a rich young man{3}—the Iddhi, the craft and power, of a hunter{4}—the Iddhi, in the technical sense just explained, of the unconverted wonder-worker. The Iddhi of the Arahats, as such, was the majesty and potency of their victory, of their emancipation{5}.

In illustration of his position Gotama is represented to have told a wonderful legend—how a Bhikshu, seeking the answer to a deep problem in religion and philosophy, goes up and up, by the power of his Iddhi, from world to world, appealing to the gods. In each heaven, as he mounts ever higher, the gods confess their ignorance, and send him on to the gods above, more potent and more glorious than they. And so he comes at last to the great god of gods, the Mahâ Brahmâ himself, only to be taken discreetly aside, and told in confidence, so that the gods may not hear it, that he too, the Mahâ Brahmâ, does not know the answer!

All the details of the story are worked out with persistent humour, characteristic of such legends in the Buddhist books, in order to bring out the two lessons—in the first place how, in all such matters, to trust to the gods is to lean on a broken reed; and secondly, how perfectly useless is the power of such Iddhi, which, even at its best, can give no better help than that to one in earnest about higher things.

The problem put is of great interest; and goes to the very core of the Buddhist Welt-anschauung, of Buddhist philosophy. The world, as we know it, is within each of us.
'Verily, I declare to you, my friend, that within this very body, mortal as it is and only a fathom high, but conscious and endowed with mind{6}, is, the world, and the waxing thereof, and the waning thereof, and the way that leads to the passing away thereof{7}.' On this Dr. Karl Neumann, whose illustrations of Buddhist {} texts from passages in Western literature, old and new, are so happy, appropriately compares Schopenhauer's saying (W. W. V. I, 538), 'One can also say that Kant's teaching leads to the view that the beginning and end of the world are not to be sought without, but within, us.'

The problem, as put by the Bhikshu to the gods, is: 'Where do the elements pass away?' The Buddha, in giving his solution, first says that that is not the right way to put the question. It ought to be: 'Where do the elements find no foothold; where does that union of qualities that make a person (nâma and rûpa) pass away?'

The alteration is suggestive. The person should be introduced; a thinking being. We only know of the elements and their derivatives, as reflected in, constructed by, human intelligence. To the question, as thus altered, the answer is: 'They find no foothold in the mind of the Arahat, and when intellection (with special reference to the representative faculty) ceases, then they, and the person with them, cease.

So in the Bâhiya story (Ud. I, IO) we are told:
'There, where earth, water, fire, and wind no footing find, There are the nights not bright, nor suns resplendent, No moon shines there, there is no darkness seen.
And then, when he, the Arahat hath, in his wisdom, seen; From well and ill, from form and formless, is he freed!'

This is a striking, and in all probability intentional, contrast to the Upanishad passages where the same kind of language is used of the Great Soul, the corollary of the human soul. It is one of many instances (as has been pointed out by Father Dahlmann) where the same expressions, used in the Pitakas of the Arahat, are used in the older or later priestly speculation of God.
We have another reference to the view that the Four Elements find no foothold in the Arahat at Samyutta I, 15. And we see what is meant by this from verse 1111 in the Sutta Nipâta: 'To him who harbours no delight in feelings that arise, either from within or without, cognition (Vinññâna) tends to wane.' That is, of course, not that his mental activity grows less—the mental alertness of the Arahat is laid stress upon throughout the books. The picture drawn of the Arahat par excellence, the Buddha himself, is a standing example of what the early Buddhists considered a man to be in whom the Vññâna had waned. Whatever else it is, it is the very reverse of a man intellectually asleep, unconscious of what is said to him, dull to ideas. But it is the picture of {} a man to whom the Four Elements, and all that follows from them, material things, and the ways in which they affect him, have ceased to have the paramount importance they have to the thoughtless{1}.

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XI. KEVADDHA SUTTA.

[THE THREE WONDERS, AND THE GODS.]

Thus have I heard. The Exalted One was once staying at Nâlandâ in the Pâvârika's mango grove{1}. Now Kevaddha{2}, a young householder, came where the Exalted One was, and bowed down in salutation to him, and took a seat on one side. And, so seated, he said to the Exalted One:

'This Nâlandâ of ours, Sir, is influential and prosperous, full of folk, crowded with people devoted to the Exalted One. It were well if the Exalted One were to give command to some brother to perform, by power surpassing that of ordinary men, a mystic wonder. Thus would this Nâlandâ of ours become even so much the more devoted to the Exalted One.'

On his speaking thus the Exalted One said to him:

'But, Kevaddha, it is not thus that I am wont to give instruction to the brethren: "Come now, my brethren; perform ye a mystic wonder, by power surpassing that of ordinary men, for the lay folk clad in their garments of white!"

And a second time Kevaddha made the same request to the Exalted One, and received a second time the same reply.

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And a third time Kevaddha, the young householder, addressed the Exalted One, and said:

'I would fain do no injury to the Exalted One. I only say that this Nâlandâ of ours is influential and prosperous, full of folk, crowded with people devoted to the Exalted One. It were well if the Exalted One were to give command to some brother to perform, by power surpassing that of ordinary men, a mystic wonder. Thus would this Nâlandâ of ours become even so much the more devoted to the Exalted One.'

'There are three sorts of wonders, Kevaddha, which I, having myself understood and realised them, have made known to others. And what are the three? The mystic wonder, the wonder of manifestation, and the wonder of education{1}.
'And what, Kevaddha, is the mystic wonder?

'In this case, Kevaddha, suppose that a brother enjoys the possession, in various ways, of mystic power—from being one he becomes multiform, from being multiform he becomes one: from being visible he becomes invisible: he passes without hindrance to the further side of a wall or a battlement or a mountain, as if through air: he penetrates up and down through solid ground, as if through water: he walks on water without dividing it, as if on solid ground: he travels cross-legged through the sky, like the birds on wing: he touches and feels with the hand even the Moon and the Sun, beings of mystic power and potency though they be: he reaches, even in the body, up to the heaven of Brahmâ. And some believer, of trusting heart, should behold him doing so.

'Then that believer should announce the fact to an unbeliever, saying: "Wonderful, Sir, and marvellous is the mystic power and potency of that recluse. For verily I saw him indulging himself, in various ways, in mystic power:—from being one becoming multiform (&c., as before, down to) reaching, even in the body, up to the heaven of Brahmâ."'

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'Then that unbeliever should say to him: "Well, Sir! there is a certain charm called the Gandhara Charm. It is by the efficacy thereof that he performs all this{1}."'

'Now what think you, Kevaddha? Might not the unbeliever so say?'

'Yes, Sir; he might.'

'Well, Kevaddha! It is because I perceive danger in the practice of mystic wonders, that I loathe, and abhor, and am ashamed thereof.
'And what, Kevaddha, is the wonder of manifestation?

'Suppose, in this case, Kevaddha, that a brother can make manifest the heart and the feelings, the reasonings and the thoughts, of other beings, of other individuals, saying: "So and so is in your mind. You are thinking of such and such a matter. Thus and thus are your emotions." And some believer, of trusting heart, should see him doing so{2}.

'Then that believer should announce the fact to an unbeliever, saying: "Wonderful, Sir, and marvellous is the mystic power and potency of that recluse. For verily I saw him making manifest the heart and the feelings, the reasonings and the thoughts, of other beings, of other individuals, saying: "So and so is in your mind. You are thinking of such and such a matter. Thus and thus are your emotions."

'Then that unbeliever should say to him: "Well, Sir! there is a charm called the Jewel Charm{3}. It is by the efficacy thereof that he performs all this."

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'Now what think you, Kevaddha? Might not the unbeliever so say?'

'Yes, Sir; he might.'

'Well, Kevaddha! It is because I perceive danger in the practice of the wonder of manifestation, that I loathe, and abhor, and am ashamed thereof.
'And what, Kevaddha, is the wonder of education?

'Suppose, Kevaddha, that a brother teaches thus: "Reason in this way, do not reason in that way. Consider thus, and not thus. Get rid of this disposition, train yourself, and remain, in that." This, Kevaddha, is what is called "The wonder of education."

'And further, Kevaddha, suppose that a Tathâgata is born into the world, &c.'

[The text repeats the Sâmañña-phala Suttanta, §§ 40 to 84, and § 97, that is to say: The preaching of the Buddha. The a wakening of a hearer, and his renunciation of the world. His self-training in act, word, and speech. The minor details of mere morality (summarised above at ) which he observes. The absence of fear, confidence of heart thence arising. The way in which he learns to guard the doors of his senses. The constant self-possession he thus gains. The power of being content with little, of simplicity of life. The emancipation of the heart from the Five Hindrances—covetousness, ill-temper, sloth of body and mind, excitement and worry, and perplexity. The resulting joy and peace that he gains. The training in the Four Raptures.

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The insight arising from the knowledge of the nature of the body, and its impermanence, and of the fact that consciousness is bound up with it.

The realisation of the Four Truths, the destruction of the Intoxicants, and the final assurance of the emancipation of Arahatship.

The refrain throughout is: 'This, Kevaddha, is what is called the wonder of education.']
'So these, Kevaddha, are the three wonders I have understood and realised myself, and made known to others.

'{1}Once upon a time, Kevaddha, there occurred to a certain brother in this very company of the brethren, a doubt on the following point: "Where now do these four great elements—earth, water, fire, and wind—pass away, leaving no trace behind?" So that brother, Kevaddha, worked himself up into such a state of ecstasy that the way leading. to the world of the Gods became clear to his ecstatic vision.

'Then that brother, Kevaddha, went up to the realm of the Four Great Kings; and said to the gods thereof: "Where, my friends, do the four great elements—earth, water, fire, and wind—cease, leaving no trace behind?"

'And when he had thus spoken the gods in the heaven of the Four Great Kings said to him: "We, brother, do not know that. But there are the Four Great Kings. more potent and more glorious than we. They will know it."
[216-219] 69-79. 'Then that brother, Kevaddha, went to the Four Great Kings, [and put the same question, and was sent on, by a similar reply, to the Thirty-three, who sent him on to their king, Sakka; who sent him on to the Yâma gods. who sent him on to their king, Suyâma; who sent him on to the Tusita gods, who sent him on to their king, Santusita; who sent him on {} to the Nimmâna-rati gods, who sent him on to their king, Sunimmita; who sent him on to the Para-nimmita Vasavatti gods, who sent him on to their king, Vasavatti; who sent him on to the gods of the Brahmâ-world{1}.']
'Then that brother, Kevaddha, became so absorbed by self-concentration that the way to the Brahmâ-world became clear to his mind thus pacified. And he drew near to the gods of the retinue of Brahmâ, and said: "Where, my friends, do the four great elements-earth, water, fire, and wind-cease, leaving no trace behind?"

'And when he had thus spoken the gods of the retinue of Brahmâ replied: "We, brother, do not know that. But there is Brahmâ, the Great Brahmâ, the Supreme One, the Mighty One, the All-seeing One, the Ruler, the Lord of all, the Controller, the Creator, the Chief of all, appointing to each his place, the Ancient of days, the Father of all that are and are to be{2}! He is more potent and more glorious than we. He will know it."

'"Where then is that Great Brahmâ now?"

'"We, brother. know not where Brahmâ is, nor why Brahmâ is, nor whence. But, brother, when the signs of his coming appear, when the light ariseth, and the glory shineth, then will He be manifest. For that is the portent of the manifestation of Brahmâ when the light ariseth, and the glory shineth."

'And it was not long, Kevaddha, before that Great Brahmâ became manifest. And that brother drew near to him, and said: "Where, my friend, do the four great elements—earth, water, fire, and wind—cease, leaving no trace behind?"'
And when he had thus spoken that Great Brahmâ said to him: "I, brother, am the Great Brahmâ, the Supreme, the Mighty, the All-seeing, the Ruler, the {}

Lord of all, the Controller, the Creator, the Chief of all, appointing to each his place, the Ancient of days, the Father of all that are and are to be!"

'Then that brother answered Brahmâ, and said: "I did not ask you, friend, as to whether you were indeed all that you now say. But I ask you where the four great elements—earth, water, fire, and wind—cease, leaving no trace behind?"

'Then again, Kevaddha, Brahmâ gave the same reply. And that brother, yet a third time, put to Brahmâ his question as before. 'Then, Kevaddha, the Great Brahmâ took that brother by the arm and led him aside, and said:

'"These gods, the retinue of Brahmâ, hold me, brother, to be such that there is nothing I cannot see, nothing I have not understood, nothing I have not realised. Therefore I gave no answer in their presence. I do not know, brother, where those four great elements—earth, water, fire, and wind—cease, leaving no trace behind. Therefore you, brother, have done wrong, have acted ill, in that, ignoring{1} the Exalted One. you have undertaken this long search, among others, for an answer to this question. Go you now, return to the Exalted One, ask him the question, and accept the answer according as he shall make reply."

'Then, Kevaddha, that Bhikkhu, as quickly as one could stretch forth his bended arm, or draw it in when stretched forth, vanished from the Brahmâ-world, and appeared before me. And he bowed in salutation to me, and took his seat on one side; and, so seated, he said to me: "Where is it, Sir, that these four great elements—earth, water, fire, and wind—cease, leaving no trace behind?"
'And when he had thus spoken, Kevaddha, I answered him thus: "Long, long ago, brother, {} sea-faring traders were wont, when they were setting sail on an ocean voyage, to take with them a land-sighting bird. And when the ship got out of sight of the shore they would let the land-sighting bird free. Such a bird would fly to the East, and to the South, and to the West, and to the North, to the zenith, and to the intermediate points of the compass. And if anywhere on the horizon it caught sight of land, thither would it fly. But if no land, all round about, were visible, it would come back even to the ship. Just so, brother, do you, having sought an answer to this question, and sought it in vain, even up to the Brahmâ-world, come back therefore to me. Now the question, brother, should not be put as you have put it. Instead of asking where the four great elements cease, leaving no trace behind, you should have asked: "Where do earth, water, fire, and wind, And long and short, and fine and coarse.
Pure and impure, no footing find?
Where is it that both name and form{1}
Die out, leaving no trace behind?"

'On that the answer is:

'The intellect of Arahatship, the invisible, the endless, accessible from every side{2}—

{}
'There is it that earth, water, fire, and wind, And long and short, and fine and coarse, Pure and impure, no footing find.
There is it that both name and form Die out, leaving no trace behind.
When intellection ceases they all also cease.'

Thus spake the Exalted One. And Kevaddha, the young householder, pleased at heart, rejoiced at the spoken word.

Here ends the Kevaddha Suttanta.

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INTRODUCTION

LOHIKKA SUTTA.

IT is not easy to put ourselves in the mental position suitable for appreciating the kind of idea that underlies the argument in this Suttanta. The social view against which it is directed lies too remote from the social views universally admitted now in the West. But in the sixth century B.C., in the Eastern valley of the Ganges, the question as to the ethics of teachers and teaching was one of wide interest and of great importance.

Sankara quotes with approval the rules of the priestly law books which lay down that the ears of a Sûdra who hears the Veda (including of course the theosophy of the Upanishads) are to be filled with molten lead and lac. His tongue is to be split if he recites it; his body is to be cut through if he preserves it in his memory{1}. God himself has bestowed the exclusive right of teaching upon the hereditary priests{2}; who indeed claim to be, each of them, great divinities{3}, even to the gods{4}. And it would be a danger to social order if they taught women, or any males not twice-born, or any twice-born males who would not share their views as to the ethics of teaching, and as to the privileges and prerogatives of the priest as teacher.

These passages are much later than the Pitakas. But they, and the many others like them, give a fair idea of the spirit animating one section at least of the priests, and of a trend of opinion that doubtless had its supporters also in Pitaka times. When Asoka thought he had brought about such a change in public opinion that those who had been very gods upon the earth had come to be gods no longer, he was very far from thinking right. That is a battle that is not so easily won, But the expression of his belief is sufficient to show that the striking idea he thought he had killed was far older than our existing text of Manu.
On the other hand one may be permitted to doubt whether the gentle measures approved by Sankara for keeping people in that state of life into which their evil deeds in a previous birth had brought them, were ever actually, in practice, carried {} out. The Pitakas themselves give ample proof that, in spite of the priests, there were not a few base-born people who succeeded, in that time at least, not only in getting taught, but in becoming teachers. And this was not the case only among the despised Buddhists. The numerous passages collected by Dr. Muir in his article in the 'Indian Antiquary' for 1877 show that the priestly literature itself—the law books and the epics—has preserved evidence of the lax way in which the strict rules as to exclusion from teaching or being taught were really carried out. And that is especially the case, according to the priestly tradition, in ancient times, as old, or older, than the rise of Buddhism.

The fact doubtless is that, though there were bigots among the Brahmans, and though they were strong enough to establish, before the time to which our present Sutta refers, rules as to restriction of teaching which no one in priestly circles could venture formally to dispute—yet that there was also always a strong party in India, to which many of the more liberal minded of the Brahmans themselves belonged, who looked with sympathy on relaxations of these rules. The general practice must have been that the hereditary priests kept the magic of the sacrifice, and the emoluments and privileges that went with the knowledge of it, in their own hands. Even the higher teaching of the mysteries of theosophy was to be handed down only from priest—father to son, or from priestly teacher to pupil. But there were many exceptions. The numerous Brahmans who were not priests were wont, of course, to emphasise the importance rather of birth than of knowledge. We have enough evidence, even in the pre-Buddhistic Upanishads, of others, besides the priests, being teachers of the higher wisdom. The four powerful kings, and the still important free clans, though they gave support to the Brahmans, gave also equal support to other teachers—just as, in later times, Hindu and Buddhist sovereigns are found supporting Buddhists and Hindus alike.
Our knowledge of Indian views of life having been hitherto derived almost exclusively from the priestly books, scholars have inevitably tended to attach too great a degree of importance to what the priests describe as the proper state of things. As a matter of fact it never really prevailed. Even now the Brahmans, or those who in the census returns claim to be such, form only about five per cent. of the population. And of these the vast majority are not priests at all; they are engaged in all sorts of worldly occupations{1}. We {} must not judge India at any time, much less in the time of the Buddha, through the yellow spectacles of Sankara, or even of the priestly compilers of Manu. As M. Barth said, already in 1873, in protesting against Lassen for falling into this mistake{1}: 'We must distinguish, more than Lassen does, between different epochs, as well as between the pretensions of a caste and the real state of things. The Brahmans had not yet monopolised the intellectual life. Certain testimonies of the epics, applicable to this very period, as also the very nature of the Vedic books, show for example that there existed alongside of them an entire profane literature of great extent . . . which was certainly, at first, in other hands. . . . Their teaching (that of the Brahmans), it is true, appears to have been in a high degree esoteric and exclusive.'

The position taken up by the Buddha on this question, as appears from our present Sutta (and such other passages as M. I, 513-524; A. I, 277; III, 123-127; M. P. S. II, 32 = A. III, 69 = V, 56 = Mil. 144), is that everyone should be allowed to learn; that everyone, having certain abilities, should be allowed to teach; and that, if he does teach, he should teach all and to all; keeping nothing back, shutting no one out. But no man should take upon himself to teach others unless and until he have first taught himself, and have also acquired the faculty of imparting to others the truth he has gained himself.

There can, I think, be very little doubt but that the great teacher is here voicing the opinion of many others of liberal views, his contemporaries and predecessors. He lays no claim, either in our Sutta or elsewhere, to any special peculiarity in this respect. It is taken for granted that the arguments put into his mouth in our Sutta will appeal to the Brahman to whom they are addressed. And they are based not on any distinctively Buddhist doctrine but on general ethical principles accepted, or rather acceptable, by all.

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XII. LOHIKKA SUTTA.

[SOME POINTS IN THE ETHICS OF TEACHING.]

Thus have I heard. The Exalted One, when once passing on a tour through the Kosala districts with a great multitude of the members of the Order, with about five hundred Bhikshus, arrived at Sâlavatikâ (a village surrounded by a row of Sâla trees). Now at that time Lohikka{1} the Brahman was established at Sâlavatikâ, a spot teeming with life, with much grassland and woodland and corn, on a royal domain granted him by King Pasenadi of Kosala, as a royal gift, with power over it as if he were the king{2}.

Now at that time Lohikka the Brahman was thinking of harbouring the following wicked view: 'Suppose that a Samana or a Brâhmana have reached up to some good state (of mind), then he should tell no one else about it. For what can one man do for another? To tell others would be like the man who, having broken through an old bond, should entangle himself in a new one. Like that, I say, is this (desire to declare to others); it is a form of lust. For what can one man do for another{3}?'

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Now Lohikka the Brahman heard the news: 'They say that the Samana Gotama, of the sons of the Sâkyas, who went out from the Sâkya clan to adopt the religious life, has now arrived, with a great company of the brethren of his Order, on his tour through the Kosala districts, at Sâlavatikâ. Now regarding that venerable Gotama, such is the high reputation that has been noised abroad:—that Exalted One is an Arahat, fully awakened, abounding in wisdom and goodness, happy, with knowledge of the worlds, unsurpassed as a guide to mortals willing to be led, a teacher for gods and men, an exalted one, a Buddha. He, by himself, thoroughly knows, and sees as it were face to face, this universe—including the worlds above of the gods, the Brahmâs, and the Mâras; and the world below with its Samanas and Brâhmanas, its princes and peoples—and having known it, he makes his knowledge known to others. The truth, lovely in its origin, lovely in its progress, lovely in its consummation, doth he proclaim both in the spirit and in the letter. The higher life doth he make known in all its fullness, and in all its purity. And good is it to pay visits to Arahats like that.'

Then Lohikka the Brahman said to Bhesikâ the barber: 'Come now, good Bhesikâ, go where the Samana Gotama is staying, and, on your arrival, ask in my name as to whether his sickness and indisposition has abated, as to his health and vigour and condition of ease; and speak thus: "May the venerable Gotama, and with him the brethren of the Order, accept the to-morrow's meal from Lohikka the Brahman."'
'Very well, Sir,' said Bhesikâ the barber, acquiescing in the word of Lohikka the Brahman, and did so even as he had been enjoined. And the Exalted One consented, by silence, to his request.

And when Bhesikâ the barber perceived that the Exalted One had consented, he rose from his seat, and passing the Exalted One with his right hand towards him, went to Lohikka the Brahman, and on his arrival spake to him thus:

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'We addressed that Exalted One{1}, Sir, in your name, even as you commanded. And the Exalted One hath consented to eome.'

Then Lohikka the Brahman, when the night had passed, made' ready at his own dwelling-place sweet food, both hard and soft, and said to Bhesikâ the barber: 'Come now, good Bhesikâ, go where the Samana Gotama is. staying, and on your arrival, announce the time to him, saying: "It is time, O Gotama, and the meal is ready."'

'Very well, Sir,' said Bhesikâ the barber in assent to the words of Lohikka the Brahman; and did so even as he had been enjoined.

And the Exalted One, who had robed himself early in the early morning, went robed, and carrying his bowl with him, with the brethren of the Order, towards Sâlavatikâ.

Now, as he went, Bhesikâ the Barber walked, step by step, behind the Exalted One. And he said to him:

'The following wicked opinion has occurred to Lohikka the Brahman: "Suppose that a Samana or a Brâhmana have reached up to some good state (of mind), then he should tell no one else about it. For what can one man do for another? To tell others would be like the man who, having broken through an old bond, should entangle himself in a new one. Like that, I say, is this (desire to declare to others); it is a form of lust." 'Twere well, Sir, if the Exalted One would disabuse his mind thereof. For what can one man do for another?'

'That may well be, Bhesikâ, that may well be.'
And the Exalted One went on to the dwelling-place of Lohikka the Brahman, and sat down on the seat prepared for him. And Lohikka the Brahman satisfied the Order, with the Buddha at its head, with his own hand, with sweet food both hard {} and soft, until they refused any more. And when the Exalted One had finished his meal, and had cleansed the bowl and his hands, Lohikka the Brahman brought a low seat and sat down beside him. And to him, thus seated, the Exalted One spake as follows:

'Is it true, what they say, Lohikka, that the following wicked opinion has arisen in your mind: [and he set forth the opinion as above set forth]?'

'That is so. Gotama.'
I Now what think you, Lohikka? Are you not established at Sâlavatikâ?'

'Yes, that is so, Gotama.'

'Then suppose, Lohikka, one were to speak thus: "Lohikka the Brahman has a domain at Sâlavatikâ. Let him alone enjoy all the revenue and all the produce of Sâlavatikâ, allowing nothing to anybody else!" Would the utterer of that speech be a danger-maker as touching the men who live in dependence upon you, or not?'

'He would be a danger-maker, Gotama?'

'And making that danger, would he be a person who sympathised with their welfare, or not?'

'He would not be considering their welfare, Gotama.'

'And not considering their welfare, would his heart stand fast in love toward them, or in enmity?'

'In enmity, Gotama.'

'But when one's heart stands fast in enmity, is that unsound doctrine, or sound?'

'It is unsound doctrine, Gotama.'

'Now if a man hold unsound doctrine, Lohikka, I declare that one of two future births will be his lot, either purgatory or rebirth as an animal.'
'Now what think you, Lohikka? Is not King Pasenadi of Kosala in possession of Kâsi and Kosala?'

'Yes, that is so, Gotama.'
'Then suppose, Lohikka, one were to speak thus: "King Pasenadi of Kosala is in possession of Kâsi and Kosala. Let him enjoy all the revenue and all the produce of Kâsi and Kosala. allowing nothing to {} anybody else." Would the utterer ot that speech be a danger-maker as touching the men who live in dependence on King Pasenadi of Kosala—both you yourself and others—or not?'

'He would be a danger-maker, Gotama.'

'And making that danger, would he be a person who sympathised with their welfare, or not?'

'He would not be considering their welfare, Gotama.'

'And not considering their welfare, would his heart stand fast in love toward them, or in enmity?'

'In enmity, Gotama.'

'But when one's heart stands fast in enmity, is that unsound doctrine, or sound?'

'It is unsound doctrine, Gotama.'

'Now if a man hold unsound doctrine, Lohikka, I declare that one of two future births will be his lot, either purgatory or rebirth as an animal.

12 and 14. 'So then, Lohikka, you admit that he who should say that you, being in occupation of Sâlavatikâ, should therefore yourself enjoy all the revenue and produce thereof, bestowing nothing on any one else; and he who should say that King Pasenadi of Kosala, being in power over Kâsi and Kosala, should therefore himself enjoy all the revenue and produce thereof, bestowing nothing on any one else—would be making danger for those living in dependence on you; or for those, you and others, living in dependence upon the King. And that those who thus make danger for others, must be wanting in sympathy for them. And that the man wanting in sympathy has his heart set fast in enmity. And that to have one's heart set fast in enmity is unsound doctrine:—
13 and 15. 'Then just so, Lohikka, he who should say: "Suppose a Samana or a Brâhmana to have reached up to some good state (of mind), then should he tell no one else about it. For what can one man do for another? To tell others would be like the man who, having broken through an old bond, should entangle himself in a new one. Like that, I say, is this desire to declare to others, it is a form of lust;"— just {} so he, who should say thus, would be putting obstacles in the way of those clansman who, having taken upon themselves the Doctrine and Discipline set forth by Him-who-has-won-the-Truth, have attained to great distinction therein—to the fruit of conversion, for instance, or to the fruit of once returning, or to the fruit of never returning, or even to Arahatship—he would be putting obstacles in the way of those who are bringing to fruition the course of conduct that will lead to rebirth in states of bliss in heaven{1}. But putting obstacles in their way he would be out of sympathy for their welfare; being out of sympathy for their welfare his heart would become established in enmity; and when one's heart is established in enmity, that is unsound doctrine. Now if a man hold unsound doctrine, Lohikka, I declare that one of two future births will be his lot, either purgatory or rebirth as an animal{2}.

'There are these three sorts of teachers in the world, Lohikka, who are worthy of blame. And whosoever should blame such a one, his rebuke would be justified, in accord with the facts and the truth, not improper. What are the three?
'In the first place, Lohikka, there is a sort of teacher who has not himself attained to that aim of Samanaship for the sake of which he left his home and adopted the homeless life. Without having himself attained to it he teaches a doctrine (Dhamma) to his hearers, saying: "This is good for you, this will make you happy." Then those hearers of his neither listen to him, nor give ear to his words, nor become stedfast in heart through their knowledge thereof; they go their own way, apart from the teaching of the master. Such a teacher may be rebuked, setting out these facts, and {} adding: "You are like one who should make advances to her who keeps repulsing him, or should embrace her who turns her face away from him. Like that, do I say, is this lust of yours (to go on posing as a teacher of men, no one heeding, since they trust you not). For what, then, can one man do for another?"

'This, Lohikka, is the first sort of teacher in the world worthy of blame. And whosoever should blame such a one, his rebuke would be justified, in accord with the facts and the truth, not improper.

'In the second place, Lohikka, there is a sort of teacher who has not himself attained to that aim of Samanaship for the sake of which he left his home and adopted the homeless life. Without having himself attained to it he teaches a doctrine to his hearers, saying: "This is good for you; that will make you happy." And to him his disciples listen; they give ear to his words; they become stedfast in heart by their understanding what is said; and they go not their own way, apart from the teaching of the master. Such a teacher may be rebuked, setting out these facts and adding: "You are like a man who, neglecting his own field, should take thought to weed out his neighbour's field. Like that, do I say, is this lust of yours (to go on teaching others when you have not taught yourself). For what, then, can one man do for another?"

'This, Lohikka, is the second sort of teacher in the world worthy of blame. And whosoever should blame such a one, his rebuke would be justified, in accord with the facts and the truth, not improper.
'And again, Lohikka, in the third place, there is a sort of teacher who has himself attained to that aim of Samanaship for the sake of which he left his home and adopted the homeless life. Having himself attained it, he teaches the doctrine to his hearers, saying: "This is good for you, that will make you happy." But those hearers of his neither listen to him, nor give ear to his words, nor become stedfast in heart through understanding thereof; they go their own way, apart {} from the teaching of the master. Such a teacher may be rebuked, setting out these facts, and adding: "You are like a man who, having broken through an old bond, should entangle himself in a new one. Like that, do I say, is this lust of yours (to go on teaching when you have not trained yourself to teach). For what, then, can one man do for another?

'This, Lohikka, is the third sort of teacher in the world worthy of blame. And whosoever should blame such a one, his rebuke would be justified, in accord with the facts and the truth, not improper. And these, Lohikka, are the three sorts of teachers of which I spoke.'

[232, 233] 19. And when he had thus spoken, Lohikka the Brahman spake thus to the Exalted One:

'But is there, Gotama, any sort of teacher not worthy of blame in the world?'

'Yes, Lohikka, there is a teacher not worthy, in the world, of blame.'

'And what sort of a teacher, Gotama, is so?'

[The answer is in the words of the exposition set out above in the Sâmañña-phala, as follows:— The appearance of a Tathâgata (one who won the truth), his preaching, the conversion of a hearer, his adoption of the homeless state. (Above, pp. 78, 79.) The minor details of mere morality that he practises. (Above, pp. 57, 58.) The Confidence of heart he gains from this practice. (Above, .) The paragraph on 'Guarded is the door of his Senses.' (Above, pp. 79, 80.) The paragraph on 'Mindful and Self-possessed.' (Above, pp. 80, 81.) The paragraph on Simplicity of life, being content with little. (Above, .) The paragraphs on Emancipation from the Five Hindrances—covetousness, ill-temper, laziness, worry, and perplexity. (Above, pp. 82-84.)

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The paragraph on the Joy and Peace that, as a result of this emancipation, fills his whole being. (Above, .)
The paragraphs on the Four Raptures (Ghânas). (Above, pp. 84-86.)
The paragraphs on the Insight arising from Knowledge (the knowledge of the First Path). (Above, pp. 86, 87.)
The paragraphs on the Realisation of the Four Noble Truths, the destruction of the Intoxications—lust, delusions, becomings, and ignorance—and the attainment of Arahatship. (Above, pp. 92, 93.)

The refrain throughout and the closing paragraph is:]

'And whosoever the teacher be, Lohikka, under whom the disciple attains to distinction so excellent as that{1}, that, Lohikka, is a teacher not open to blame in the world. And whosoever should blame such a one, his rebuke would be unjustifiable, not in accord either with the facts or with the truth, without good ground.'
And when he had thus spoken, Lohikka the Brahman said to the Exalted One:
'Just, Gotama, as if a man had caught hold of a man, falling over the precipitous edge of purgatory, by the hair of his head, and lifted him up safe back on the firm land—just so have I, on the point of falling into purgatory, been lifted back on to the land by the venerable Gotama. Most excellent, O Gotama, are the words of thy mouth, most excellent! Just as if a man were to set up what has been thrown down, or were to reveal what has been hidden away, or were to point out the right road to him who has gone astray or were to bring a light into the darkness so that those who had eyes could see external forms—just even so has the truth been made known to me, in many a {} figure, by the venerable Gotama. And I, even I, betake myself to the venerable Gotama as my guide, to the Doctrine, and to the Order. May the venerable Gotama accept me as a disciple; as one who, from this day forth as long as life endures, has taken him as his guide!'

Here ends the Lohikka Suttanta.

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INTRODUCTION

TEVIGGA SUTTA.

THIS is the only Suttanta, among the thirteen translated in this volume, in which the discourse does not lead up to Arahatship. It leads up only to the so-called Brahma Vihâras—the supreme conditions—four states of mind held to result, after death, in a rebirth in the heavenly worlds of Brahmâ. Why is it—the Buddhist ideal being Arahatship, which leads to no rebirth at all—that this lower ideal is thus suddenly introduced?

It would seem that the particular point here discussed was regarded as so important that it could scarcely be left out. And when we recollect that the highest teaching current before the Buddha, and still preserved in the pre-Buddhistic Upanishads, was precisely about union with Brahmâ; we may, without much danger of error, explain the position occupied in the series of dialogues by this Suttanta by the supposition that it was deliberately inserted here as the Buddhist answer to the Upanishad theory. In this respect it is noteworthy that the neuter Brahman is quietly ignored, That is quite in accordance with the method of the Suttantas. The Buddha is in them often represented as using, in his own sense, words familiar to his interlocutors in a different sense, The neuter Brahman is, so far as I am aware, entirely unknown in the Nikâyas, and of course the Buddha's idea of Brahmâ, in the masculine, really differs widely from that of the Upanishads.
There is nothing original in the Buddhist belief that a man's habit of mind at the time of his death would determine, save only in the one case of the Arahat, the nature of his rebirth. It is an Indian—not an exclusively Buddhist—theory. The Buddhist texts represent it as held by non-Buddhists, and already long before the Buddha's time, and as accepted by all as a matter of course. And it is even not exclusively Indian. As I have pointed out elsewhere, it is {} ascribed by Plato to Socrates{1}. The essentially Buddhist parts of the theory are three. In the first place, the choice of the particular details they held essential to such a habit of mind as would lead to rebirth in the Brahmâ-worlds; secondly, their doctrine that there was not really any 'soul' to be reborn; and thirdly, that the highest ideal was not to be reborn at all (even only once, and into union with Brahmâ).

The Gâtaka commentary in numerous passages states that the four Brahma Vihâras were practised, long before the time of the rise of Buddhism, by the sages of old. I have not found such a statement in the Nikâyas; and it is most probable therefore that the Gâtaka commentator is antedating the particular meditations in question. However this may be, they remained, throughout the long history of Buddhism, an essential part of Buddhist practice. They are even mentioned in the Gâtaka Mâlâ, a work usually supposed to be Mahâyânist, and dated about a thousand years later than the Buddha{2}. They are well known to-day in Burma, Siam, and Ceylon. And it would be interesting to know whether they still form a part of the regulated meditations which are known to be practised by Buddhists in Thibet, China, and Japan. But they have not been found in any Indian book not a Buddhist work, and are therefore almost certainly exclusively Buddhist. Even the most determined anti-Buddhist must admit the beauty of the language (in spite of its repetitions §§ 76-78), the subtle depth of the ideas, and the great value of the practice from the point of view of ethical self-training. He would probably rejoin, and with truth, that similar sentiments are met with in other (post-Buddhistic) Indian books. But it is one thing to give expression in isolated passages to such views, and quite another to have selected just these four as the four cornerstones of habitual endeavour.

It should be recollected that the argument here is only an argumentum ad hominem. If you want union with Brahmâ—which you had much better not want—this is the way to attain to it{3}.

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XIII. TEVIGGA SUTTA.

[ON KNOWLEDGE OF THE VEDAS.]

Thus have I heard. When the Exalted One was once journeying through Kosala with a great company of the brethren, with about five hundred brethren, he came to the Brahman village in Kosala which is called Manasâkata. And there at Manasâkata the Exalted One stayed in the mango grove, on the bank of the river Akiravatî, to the north of Manasâkata.

Now at that time many very distinguished and wealthy Brahmans were staying at Manasâkata; to wit, Kankî the Brahman, Târukkha the Brahman, Pokkharasâdi the Brahman, Gânussoni the Brahman, Todeyya the Brahman, and other very distinguished and wealthy Brahmans{2}.

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Now a conversation sprung up between Vâsettha and Bhâradvâga, when they were taking exercise (after their bath) and walking up and down in thoughtful mood, as to which was the true path, and which the false{1}.'
The young Brahman Vâsettha spake thus:

'This is the straight path, this the direct way which makes for salvation, and leads him, who acts according to it, into a state of union with Brahmâ. I mean that which has been announced by the Brahman Pokkharasâdi.'
The young Brahman Bhâradvâga spake thus:

But neither was the young Brahman Vâsettha able to convince the young Brahman Bhâradvâga, nor was the young Brahman Bhâradvâga able to convince the young Brahman Vâsettha.
Then the young Brahman Vâsettha said to the young Brahman Bhâradvâga:

'That Samana Gotama, Bhâradvâga, of the sons of the Sâkyas, who went out from the Sâkya clan to adopt the religious life, is now staying at Manasâkata, in the mango grove, on the bank of the river Akiravatî, to the north of Manasâkata. Now regarding that venerable Gotama, such is the high reputation that has been noised abroad: "That Exalted One is an Arahat, a fully enlightened one, abounding in wisdom and goodness, happy, with knowledge of the worlds, unsurpassed as a guide to mortals willing to be led, a teacher of gods and men, an Exalted One, a Buddha."

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Come, then, Bhâradvâga, let us go to the place where the Samana Gotama is; and when we have come there, let us ask the Samana Gotama touching this. matter. What the Samana Gotama shall declare unto us, that let us bear in mind{1}.'

'Very well, my friend!' said the young Brahman Bhâradvâga, in assent, to the young Brahman Vâsettha.

Then the young Brahman Vâsettha and the young Brahman Bhâradvâga went on to the place where the Exalted One was.

And when they had come there, they exchanged with the Exalted One the greetings and compliments of politeness and courtesy, and sat down beside him. And while they were thus seated the young Brahman Vâsettha said to the Exalted One:

'As we, Gotama, were taking exercise and walking up and down, there sprung up a conversation between us on which was the true path, and which the false. I said thus:

'"This is the straight path, this the direct way which makes for salvation, and leads him who acts according to it, into a state of union with Brahmâ. I mean that which has been announced by the Brahman Pokkharasâdi."'

'Bhâradvâga said thus:

'"This is the straight path, this the direct way which makes for salvation, and leads him, who acts according to it, into a state of union with Brahmâ. I mean that which has been announced by the Brahman Târukkha."'

'Regarding this matter, Gotama, there is a strife, a dispute, a difference of opinion between us.'
'So you say, Vâsettha, that you said thus:

'"This is the straight path, this the direct way which makes for salvation, and leads him, who acts according to it, into a state of union with Brahmâ.

{}

I mean that which has been announced by the Brahman Pokkharasâdi."'

'While Bhâradvâga said thus:

'Wherein, then, O Vâsettha, is there a strife, a dispute, a difference of opinion between you{1}?'
'Concerning the true path and the false, Gotama. Various Brahmans, Gotama, teach various paths. The Addhariyâ Brahmans, the Tittiriyâ Brahmans, the Khandokâ Brahmans [the Khandavâ Brahmans], the Bavharigâ Brahmans{2}. Are all those saving paths? Are they all paths which will lead him, who acts according to them, into a state of union with Brahmâ?

'Just, Gotama, as near a village or a town there are many and various paths{3}, yet they all meet together in the village—just in that way are all the various paths taught by various Brahmans—the Addhariyâ Brahmans, the Tittiriyâ Brahmans, the Khandokâ Brahmans [the Khandavâ Brahmans], the Bavharigâ Brahmans. Are all these saving paths? Are they all paths which will lead him, who acts according to them, into a state of union with Brahmâ?'
'Do you say that they all lead aright, Vâsettha?

'I say so, Gotama.'

{}

'Do you really say that they all lead aright, Vâsettha?'

'So I say, Gotama.'
'But yet, Vâsettha, is there a single one of the Brahmans versed in the Three Vedas who has ever seen Brahmâ face to face?'

'No, indeed, Gotama.'

'Or is there then, Vâsettha, a single one of the teachers of the Brahmans versed in the Three Vedas who has seen Brahmâ face to face?'

'No, indeed, Gotama!'

'Or is there then, Vâsettha, a single one of the teachers of the teachers of the Brahmans versed in the Three Vedas who has seen Brahmâ face to face?'

'No, indeed, Gotama!'

'Or is there then, Vâsettha, a single one of the Brahmans up to the seventh generation who has seen Brahmâ face to face?'

'No, indeed, Gotama!'
'Well then, Vâsettha, those ancient Rishis of the Brahmans versed in the Three Vedas, the authors of the verses, the utterers of the verses, whose ancient form of words so chanted, uttered, or composed, the Brahmans of to-day chant over again or repeat; intoning or reciting exactly as has been intoned or recited—to wit, Atthaka, Vâmaka, Vâmadeva, Vessâmitta, Yamataggi, Angirasa, Bhâradvâga, Vâsettha, Kassapa, and Bhagu{1}—did even they speak thus, saying: "We know it, we have seen it, where Brahmâ is, whence Brahmâ is, whither Brahmâ is?"'

'Not so, Gotama!'
'Then you say, Vâsettha, that none of the Brahmans, or of their teachers, or of their pupils, even up to the seventh generation, has ever seen Brahmâ face to face. And that even the Rishis of old, the authors and utterers of the verses, of the ancient form of words which the Brahmans of to-day so carefully intone and recite precisely as they have {} been handed down—even they did not pretend to know or to have seen where or whence or whither Brahmâ is{1}. So that the Brahmans versed in the Three Vedas have forsooth said thus: "What we know not, what we have not seen, to a state of union with that we can show the way, and can say: 'This is the straight path, this is the direct way which makes for salvation, and leads him, who acts according to it, into a state of union with Brahmâ!'"

'Now what think you, Vâsettha? Does it not follow, this being so, that the talk of the Brahmans, versed though they be in the Three Vedas, turns out to be foolish talk?'

'In sooth, Gotama, that being so, it follows that the talk of the Brahmans versed in the Three Vedas is foolish talk!'

'Verily, Vâsettha. that Brahmans versed in the Three Vedas should be able to show the way to a state of union with that which they do not know, neither have seen—such a condition of things can in no wise be!
'Just, Vâsettha, as when a string of blind men are clinging one to the other{2}, neither can the foremost see, nor can the middle one see, nor can the hindmost see—just even so, methinks, Vâsettha, is the talk of the Brahmans versed in the Three Vedas but blind talk: the first sees not, the middle one sees not, nor can the latest see. The talk then of these {}

Brahmans versed in the Three Vedas turns out to be ridiculous) mere words, a vain and empty thing!'
'Now what think you, Vâsettha? Can the Brahmans versed in the Three Vedas—like other, ordinary, folk—see the Moon and the Sun as they pray to, and praise, and worship them, turning round with clasped hands towards the place whence they rise and where they set?'

'Certainly, Gotama, they can{1}.'
'Now what think you, Vâsettha? The Brahmans versed in the Three Vedas, who can very well—like other, ordinary, folk—see the Moon and the Sun as they pray to, and praise, and worship them, turning round with clasped hands to the place whence they rise and where they set—are those Brahmans, versed in the Three Vedas, able to point out the way to a state of union with the Moon or the Sun, saying: "This is the straight path, this the direct way which makes for salvation, and leads him, who acts according to it, to a state of union with the Moon or the Sun?"'

'Certainly, not, Gotama!'
'So you say, Vâsettha, that the Brahmans are not able to point out the way to union with that which they have seen, and you further say that neither any one of them, nor of their pupils, nor of their predecessors even to the seventh generation has ever seen Brahmâ. And you further say that even the Rishis of old, whose words they hold in such deep respect, did not pretend to know, or to have seen where, or whence, or whither Brahmâ is. Yet these Brahmans versed in the Three Vedas say, forsooth, that they can point out the way to union with that which they know not, neither have seen{2}. Now what {} think you, Vâsettha? Does it not follow that, this being so, the talk of the Brahmans, versed though they be in the Three Vedas, turns out to be foolish talk?'

'In sooth, Gotama, that being so, it follows that the talk of the Brahmans versed in the Three Vedas is foolish talk!'

'Very good, Vâsettha. Verily then, Vâsettha, that Brahmans versed in the Three Vedas should be able to show the way to a state of union with that which they do not know, neither have seen—such a condition of things can in no wise be!'

'Just, Vâsettha, as if a man should say, "How I long for, how I love the most beautiful woman in this land!"

'And people should ask him, "Well! good friend! this most beautiful woman in the land, whom you thus love and long for, do you know whether that beautiful woman is a noble lady or a Brahman woman, or of the trader class, or a Sûdra?"

'But when so asked, he should answer: "No."

'And when people should ask him, "Well! good friend! this most beautiful woman in all the land, whom you so love and long for, do you know what the name of that most beautiful woman is, or what is her family name, whether she be tall or short or of medium height, dark or brunette or golden in colour, or in what village or town or city she dwells?"

'But when so asked, he should answer: "No."

'And then people should say to him, "So then, good friend, whom you know not, neither have seen, her do you love and long for?"

'And then when so asked, he should answer: "Yes."

'Now what think you, Vâsettha? Would it not turn out, that being so, that the talk of that man was foolish talk?'

'In sooth, Gotama, it would turn out, that being so, that the talk of that man was foolish talk!'

{}
'And just even so, Vâsettha, though you say that the Brahmans are not able to point out the way to union with that which they have seen, and you further say that neither any one of them, nor of their pupils, nor of their predecessors even to the seventh generation has ever seen Brahmâ. And you further say that even the Rishis of old, whose words they hold in such deep respect, did not pretend to know, or to have seen where, or whence, or whither Brahmâ is. Yet these Brahmans versed in the Three Vedas say, forsooth, that they can point out the way to union with that which they know not, neither have seen! Now what think you, Vâsettha? Does it not follow that, this being so, the talk of the Brahmans, versed though they be in the Three Vedas, is foolish talk?'

'In sooth, Gotama, that being so, it follows that the talk of the Brahmans versed in the Three Vedas is foolish talk!'

'Just, Vâsettha, as if a man should make a staircase in the place where four roads cross, to mount up into a mansion. And people should say to him, "Well, good friend, this mansion, to mount up into which you are making this staircase, do you know whether it is in the east, or in the south, or in the west, or in the north? whether it is high or low or of medium size?'

'And when so asked, he should answer: "No."

'And people should say to him, "But then, good friend, you are making a staircase to mount up into something—taking it for a mansion—which, all the while, you know not, neither have seen!"

'And when so asked, he should answer: "Yes."
'Now what think you, Vâsettha? Would it not {} turn out, that being so, that the talk of that man was foolish talk?'

'In sooth, Gotama, it would turn out, that being so, that the talk of that man was foolish talk!'
'And just even so, Vâsettha, though you say that the Brahmans are not able to point out the way to union with that which they have seen, and you further say that neither any one of them, nor of their pupils, nor of their predecessors even to the seventh generation has ever seen Brahmâ And you further say that even the Rishis of old, whose words they hold in such deep respect, did not pretend to know, or to have seen where, or whence, or whither Brahmâ is. Yet these Brahmans versed in the Three Vedas say, forsooth, that they can point out the way to union with that which they know not, neither have seen! Now what think you, Vâsettha? Does it not follow that, this being so, the talk of the Brahmans versed in the Three Vedas is foolish talk?'

'In sooth, Gotama, that being so, it follows that the talk of the Brahmans versed in the Three Vedas is foolish talk!'

'Again, Vâsettha, if this river Akiravatî were full of water even to the brim, and overflowing{1}. And a man with business on the other siJe, bound for tlle other side, making for the otller side, should come up, and want to cross over. And he, standing on this bank, should invoke the further bank, and say, "Come hither, O further bank! come over to this side!"
'Now what think you, Vâsettha? Would the further bank of the river Akiravatî, by reason of that man's {} invoking and praying and hoping and praising, come over to this side?'

'Certainly not, Gotama!'
'In just the same way, Vâsettha, do the Brahmans versed in the Three Vedas—omitting the practice of those qualities which really make a man a Brahman, and adopting the practice of those qualities which really make men non-Brahmans—say thus: "Indra we call upon, Soma we call upon, Varuna we call upon, Îsâna we call upon, Pagâpati we call upon, Brahmâ we call upon, [Mahiddhi we call upon, Yama we call upon{1}!]" Verily, Vâsettha, that those Brahmans versed in the Three Vedas, but omitting the practice of those qualities which really make a man a Brahman, and adopting the practice of those qualities which really make men non-Brahmans—that they, by reason of their invoking and praying and hoping and praising, should, after death and when the body is dissolved, become united with Brahmâ—verily such a condition of things can in no wise be{2}!'

'Just, Vâsettha, as if this river Akiravatî were full, even to the brim, and overflowing. And a man with business on the other side, making for the other side, bound for the other side, should come up, and want to cross over. And he, on this bank, were to be bound tightly, with his arms behind his back, by a strong chain. Now what think you, Vâsettha, would that man be able to get over from this bank of the river Akiravatî to the further bank?'

'Certainly not, Gotama!'
'In the same way, Vâsettha, there are five things {} leading to lust, which are called, in the Discipline of the Arahats, a "chain" and a "bond."'

'What are the five?'

'Forms perceptible to the eye; desirable, agreeable, pleasant, attractive forms, that are accompanied by lust and cause delight. Sounds of the same kind perceptible to the ear. Odours of the same kind perceptible to the nose. Tastes of the same kind perceptible to the tongue. Substances of the same kind perceptible to the body by touch. These five things predisposing to passion are called, in the Discipline of the Arahats, a "chain" and a "bond." And these five things predisposing to lust, Vâsettha, do the Brahmans versed in the Three Vedas cling to, they are infatuated by them, attached to them, see not the danger of them, know not how unreliable they are, and so enjoy them{1}.'

'And verily, Vâsettha, that Brahmans versed in the Three Vedas, but omitting the practice of those qualities which really make a man a Brahman, and adopting the practice of those qualities which really make men non-Brahmans— clinging to these five things predisposing to passion, infatuated by them, attached to them, seeing not their danger, knowing not their unreliability, and so enjoying them—that these Brahmans should after death, on the dissolution of the body, become united to Brahmâ—such a condition of things can in no wise be!'

'Again, Vâsettha, if this river Akiravatî were full of water even to the brim, and overflowing. And a man with business on the other side, making for the other side, bound for the other side, should come up, and want to cross over. And if he covering himself up, even to his head, were to lie down, on this bank, to sleep.
'Now what think you, Vâsettha? Would that man {} be able to get over from this bank of the river Akiravatî to the further bank?'

'Certainly not, Gotama!'
'And in the same way, Vâsettha, there are these Five Hindrances, in the Discipline of the Arahats{1}, which are called "veils," and are called "hindrances," and are called "obstacles," and are called "entanglements."'

'Which are the five?'
'The hindrance of worldly lusts, 'The hindrance of illwill, 'The hindrance of torpor and sloth of heart a mind, 'The hindrance of flurry and worry, 'The hindrance of suspense.

'These are the Five Hindrances, Vâsettha, which. in the Discipline of the Arahats, are called veils, and are called hindrances, and are called obstacles, and are called entanglements{2}.

'Now with these Five Hindrances, Vâsettha, the Brahmans versed in the Three Vedas are veiled, hindered, obstructed, and entangled.

'And verily, Vâsettha, that Brahmans versed in the Three Vedas, but omitting the practice of those qualities which really make a man a Brahman, and adopting the practice of those qualities which really make men non-Brahmans—veiled, hindered, obstructed, and entangled by these Five Hindrances—that these Brahmans should after death, on the dissolution of the body, become united to Brahmâ—such a condition of things can in no wise be!'
'Now what think you, Vâsettha, and what have you heard from the Brahmans aged and well-stricken in years, when the learners and teachers are talking {} together? Is Brahmâ in possession of wives and wealth, or is he not{1}?'

'He is not, Gotama.'

'Is his mind full of anger, or free from anger?'

'Free from anger, Gotama.'

'Is his mind full of malice, or free from malice?'

'Free from malice, Gotama.'

'Is his mind tarnished, or is it pure{2}?'

'It is pure, Gotama.'

'Has he self-mastery, or has he not{3}?'

'He has, Gotama.'
'Now what think you, Vâsettha, are the Brahmans versed in the Vedas in the possession of wives and wealth, or are they not?'

'They are, Gotama.'

'Have they anger in their hearts, or have they not?'

'They have, Gotama.'

'Do they bear malice, or do they not?'

'They do, Gotama.'

'Are they pure in heart, or are they not?'

'They are not, Gotama.'

'Have they self-mastery, or have they not?'

'They have not, Gotama.'
'Then you say, Vâsettha, that the Brahmans are in possession of wives and wealth, and that Brahmâ is not. Can there, then, be agreement and likeness between the Brahmans with their wives and property, and Brahmâ, who has none of these things?'

{}

'Certainly not, Gotama!'
'Very good, Vâsettha. But, verily, that these Brahmans versed in the Vedas, who live married and wealthy, should after death, when the body is dissolved, become united with Brahmâ who has none of these things—such a condition of things can in no wise be!'

'Then you say, too, Vâsettha, that the Brahmans bear anger and malice in their hearts. and are tarnished in heart and uncontrolled, whilst Brahmâ is free from anger and malice, pure in heart, and has self-mastery. Now can there, then, be concord and likeness between the Brahmans and Brahmâ?'

'Certainly not, Gotama!'
'Very good, Vâsettha. That these Brahmans versed in the Vedas and yet bearing anger and malice in their hearts, sinful, and uncontrolled, should after death, when the body is dissolved, become united to Brahmâ, who is free from anger and malice, pure in heart, and has self-mastery—such a condition of things can in no wise be!

'So that thus then, Vâsettha, the Brahmans, versed though they be in the Three Vedas, while they sit down (in confidence), are sinking down (in the mire){1}; and so sinking they are arriving only at despair, thinking the while that they are crossing over into some happier land.

'Therefore is it that the threefold wisdom of the Brahmans, wise in their Three Vedas, is called a waterless desert, their threefold wisdom is called a pathless jungle, their threefold wisdom is called perdition!'
'When he had thus spoken, the young Brahman Vâsettha said to the Blessed One:

{}

'It has been told me, Gotama, that the Samana Gotama knows the way to the state of union with Brahmâ.'

'What do you think, Vâsettha, is not Manasâkata near to this spot, not distant from this spot?'

'Just so, Gotama, Manasâkata is near to, is not far from here.'

'Now what think you, Vâsettha, suppose there were a man born in Manasâkata, and people should ask him, who never till that time had left Manasâkata, which was the way to Manasâkata. Would that man, born and brought up in Manasâkata, be in any doubt or difficulty?'

'Certainly not, Gotama! And why? If the man had been born and brought up in Manasâkata, every road that leads to Manasâkata would be perfectly familiar to him.'

'That man, Vâsettha, born and brought up at Manasâkata might, if he were asked the way to Manasâkata, fall into doubt and difficulty, but to the Tathâgata, when asked touching the path which leads to the world of Brahmâ, there can be neither doubt nor difficulty. For Brahmâ, I know, Vâsettha, and the world of Brahmâ, and the path which leadeth unto it. Yea, I know it even as one who has entered the Brahmâ-world, and has been born within it!'
When he had thus spoken, Vâsettha, the young Brahman, said to the Blessed One:

'Just so has it been told me, Gotama, even that the Samana Gotama knows the way to a state of union with Brahmâ. It is well! Let the venerable Gotama be pleased to show us the way to a state of union with Brahmâ, let the venerable Gotama save the Brahman race{1}!'

'Listen then, Vâsettha, and give ear attentively, and I will speak!'

{}

'So be it, Lord!' said the young Brahman Vâsettha, in assent, to the Blessed One.
'Then the Blessed One spake, and said: 'Know, Vâsettha, that (from time to time) a Tathâgata is born into the world, an Arahat, a fully awakened one, abounding in wisdom and goodness, happy, with knowledge of the worlds, unsurpassed as a guide to mortals willing to be led, a teacher of gods and men, a Blessed One, a Buddha. He, by himself, thoroughly understands, and sees, as it were, face to face this universe—including the worlds above with the gods, the Mâras, and the Brahmâs; and the world below with its Samanas and Brahmans, its princes and peoples;—and he then makes his knowledge known to others. The truth doth he proclaim both in the letter and in the spirit, lovely in its origin, lovely in its progress, lovely in its consummation: the higher life doth he make known, in all its purity and in all its perfectness.

'A householder (gahapati), or one of his children, or a man of inferior birth in any class, listens to that truth{1}. On hearing the truth he has faith in the Tathâgata, and when he has acquired that faith he thus considers with himself:

'"Full of hindrances is household life, a path defiled by passion: free as the air is the life of him who has renounced all worldly things. How difficult it is for the man who dwells at home to live the higher life in all its fullness, in all its purity, in all its bright perfection! Let me then cut off my hair and beard, let me clothe myself in the orange-coloured robes, and let me go forth from a household life into the homeless state!"
'Then before long, forsaking his portion of wealth, be it great or be it small; forsaking his circle of relatives, be they many or be they few, he cuts off his hair and beard, he clothes himself in the orange-coloured {} robes, and he goes forth from the household life into the homeless state.
'When he has thus become a recluse he passes a life self-restrained by that restraint which should be binding on a recluse. Uprightness is his delight, and he sees danger in the least of those things he should avoid. He adopts and trains himself in the precepts. He encompasses himself with goodness in word and deed. He sustains his life by means that are quite pure; good is his conduct, guarded the door of his senses; mindful and self-possessed, he is altogether happy!'

43-75. 'And how, Vâsettha, is his conduct good?'
[The answer is set forth in the words of the tract on the Sîlas, translated above, pp. 3-26, but with the refrain as in the Sâmañña-phala Suttanta above, . Then follow §§ 63-75, inclusive, of the Sâmañña-phala; setting forth:— The confidence of heart that results from the sense of goodness. The way in which he guards the doors of his senses. The way in which he is mindful and self-possessed. His habit of being content with little, of adopting simplicity of life. His conquest of the Five Hindrances, each with the explanatory simile. The joy and peace which, as a result of this conquest, fills his whole being.] {1}'And he lets his mind pervade one quarter of {} the world with thoughts of Love , and so the second, and so the third, and so the fourth. And thus the whole wide world, above, below, around, and everywhere, does he continue to pervade with heart of Love, far-reaching, grown great, and beyond measure.

'Just, Vâsettha, as a mighty trumpeter makes himself heard—and that without difficulty—in all the four directions; even so of all things that have shape or life, there is not one that he passes by or leaves aside, but regards them all with mind set free, and deep-felt love.

'Verily this, Vâsettha, is the way to a state of union with Brahmâ.
'And he lets his mind pervade one quarter of the world with thoughts of pity{1}, . . . sympathy{1}, . . . equanimity{1}, and so the second, and so the third, and so the fourth. And thus the whole wide world, above, below, around, and everywhere, does he continue to pervade with heart of pity, . . . sympathy, . . . equanimity, far-reaching, grown great, and beyond measure.

'Verily this, Vâsettha, is the way to a state of union with Brahmâ.'
'Now what think you, Vâsettha, will the Bhikkhu who lives thus be in possession of women and of wealth, or will he not?'

'He will not, Gotama!'

'Will he be full of anger, or free from anger?'

'He will be free from anger, Gotama!'

'Will his mind be full of malice, or free from malice?'

{}

'Free from malice, Gotama!'

'Will his mind be tarnished, or pure?'

'It will be pure, Gotama!'

'Will he have self-mastery, or will he not?'

'Surely he will, Gotama!'
'Then you say, Vâsettha, that the Bhikkhu is free from household and worldly cares, and that Brahmâ is free from household and worldly cares. Is there then agreement and likeness between the Bhikkhu and Brahmâ?'

'There is, Gotama!'

'Very good, Vâsettha. Then in sooth, Vâsettha, that the Bhikkhu who is free from household cares should after death, when the body is dissolved, become united with Brahmâ, who is the same-such a condition of things is every way possible!

'And so you say, Vâsettha, that the Bhikkhu is free from anger, and free from malice, pure in mind, and master of himself; and that Brahmâ is free from anger, and free from malice. pure in mind, and master of himself. Then in sooth, Vâsettha, that the Bhikkhu who is free from anger, free from malice, pure in mind, and master of himself should after death, when the body is dissolved, become united with Brahmâ, who is the same-such a condition of things is every way possible!'

'When he had thus spoken, the young Brahmans Vâsettha and Bhâradvâga addressed the Blessed One, and said:
'Most excellent, Lord, are the words of thy mouth, most excellent! Just as if a man were to set up that which is thrown down, or were to reveal that which is hidden away, or were to point out the right road to him who has gone astray, or were to bring a lamp into the darkness, so that those who have eyes can see external forms;—just even so, Lord, has the truth been made known to us, in many a figure, by the Exalted One. And we, even we, betake ourselves, Lord, to the Blessed One as our guide, to the Truth, {} and to the Brotherhood. May the Blessed One accept us as disciples, as true believers, from this day forth, as long as life endures!'

Here ends the Tevigga Suttanta{1}.

Colophon

Dialogues of the Buddha (The Digha-Nikaya), translated from the Pali by T.W. Rhys Davids. Published as Volume II of The Sacred Books of the Buddhists. London: Oxford University Press, 1899.

Compiled and formatted for the Good Work Library by the New Tianmu Anglican Church, 2026.

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