An Invocation

An Invocation.

namo tassa bhagavato arahato sammāsambuddhassa
(Tatiya-vāraṃ. X3) (to be chanted thrice)
Glory to him, the Blessed One, the Worthy, the Self fully Enlightened One.

Buddhaṃ jīvitaṃ yāva nibbānaṃ sarāṇaṃ gacchāmi.
Dhammaṃ jīvitaṃ yāva nibbānaṃ sarāṇaṃ gacchāmi.
Saṅghaṃ jīvitaṃ yāva nibbānaṃ sarāṇaṃ gacchāmi.

I take refuge in the Buddha,Dhamma and Saṅgha so long as life shall last, even till Nibbāna.

Iti pi so Bhagavā arahaṃ sammā saṃbuddho vijjā-caraṇa-saṃpanno sugato lokavidū. anuttarapurisadammasārathi satthā devamanussānaṃ buddho bhagavāti.

Behold!,the Blessed One, the Worthy, the Self fully Enlightened One, perfect in knowledge and conduct, the Happy One, Knower of the worlds, the Guide Supreme of men who would be trained, Teacher of gods and men, The Buddha, the Blessed One.

Dutiyam pi Buddhaṃ jīvitaṃ yāva nibbānaṃ sarāṇaṃ gacchāmi.
Dutiyam pi Dhammaṃ jīvitaṃ yāva nibbānaṃ sarāṇaṃ gacchāmi
Dutiyam pi Saṅghaṃ jīvitaṃ yāva nibbānaṃ sarāṇaṃ gacchāmi.

Again, I take refuge in the Buddha,Dhamma and Saṅgha so long as life shall last, even till Nibbāna.

Svākkhāto Bhagavatā Dhammo sandiṭṭhiko akāliko ehipassiko opanayiko paccattaṃ veditabbo viññūhiti.

Behold! the Dhamma well proclaimed by the Blessed One, that bringeth good even in this life, without delay, and good that can be seen, that leadeth on to bliss,that wise men, each for himself, may know.

Tatiyam pi Buddhaṃ jīvitaṃ yāva nibbānaṃ sarāṇaṃ gacchāmi.
Tatiyam pi Dhammaṃ jīvitaṃ yāva nibbānaṃ sarāṇaṃ gacchāmi
Tatiyam pi Saṅghaṃ jīvitaṃ yāva nibbānaṃ sarāṇaṃ gacchāmi.

For the third time also, I take refuge in the Buddha,Dhamma and Saṅgha so long as life shall last, even till Nibbāna.

Supaṭipanno Bhagavato sāvaka-Saṅgho, uju-paṭipanno Bhagavato sāvaka-Saṅgho, ñāya-paṭipanno Bhagavato sāvaka-Saṅgho, sāmīci-paṭipanno Bhagavato sāvaka-Saṅgho, yad-idaṁ, cattāri purisa-yugāni, aṭṭha purisa-puggalā, esa Bhagavato sāvaka-Saṅgho, āhuneyyo, pāhuneyyo, dakkhiṇeyyo, añjalikaranīyo, anuttaraṁ puññakkhettaṁ lokassati.

Rightly walking is the Blessed One’s Brotherhood of Disciples. Upright is the Blessed One’s Brotherhood of Disciples. Justly walking is the Blessed One’s Brotherhood of Disciples. Fitly walking is the Blessed One’s Brotherhood of Disciples, to wit- The four pairs of men, the eight kinds of men; Worthy of support and worshipful is this Brotherhood of the Disciples of the Blessed One. Worthy of gifts and offerings, of hands in reverence clasped, A field of merit unsurpassed in all the world.

Iccevam-accanta-namassa-neyyaṃ. Namassamāno ratanattayaṃ yaṃ. Puññabhisandaṃ vipulaṃ alatthaṃ. Tassānubhāvena hatantarāyo.

Thus the Triple Gem adoring to be endlessly adored, Fount abundant of rich merit have I won; and by that power shattered are all things that bar.

Karaṇīyamatthakusalena yantaṃ santaṃ padaṃ abhisamecca
sakko ujū ca suhujū ca suvaco cassa mudu anatimānī
santussako ca subharo ca appakicco ca sallahukavutti
santindriyo ca nipako ca appagabbho kulesu ananugiddho
na ca khuddaṃ samācare kiñci yena viññū pare upavadeyyuṃ
sukhino vā khemino hontu sabbe sattā bhavantu sukhitattā
ye keci pāṇabhūtatthi tasā vā thāvarā vā anavasesā
dīghā vā ye mahantā vā majjhiyā rassakā aṇukathūlā
diṭṭhā vā ye ca adiṭṭhā ye ca dūre vasanti avidūre
bhūtā vā sambhavesī vā sabbe sattā bhavantu sukhitattā
na paro paraṃ nikubbetha nātimaññetha katthaci naṃ kiñci
byārosanā paṭīghasaññā nāñña maññassa dukkhamiccheyya
mātā yathā niyaṃ puttaṃ āyusā ekaputtamanurakkhe
evampi sabba bhutesu mānasambhāvaye aparimāṇaṃ
mettañca sabbalokasmiṃ mānasambhāvaye aparimāṇaṃ
uddhaṃ adho ca tiriyañca asambādhaṃ averaṃ asapattaṃ
tiṭṭhañcaraṃ nisinno vā sayāno vā yāvatassa vigatamiddho
etaṃ satiṃ adhiṭṭheyya brahmametaṃ vihāraṃ idhamāhu
diṭṭhiñca anupagamma sīlavā dassanena sampanno
kāmesu vineyya gedhaṃ na hi jātu gabbhaseyyaṃ punaretī ti

pañcamāre jino nātho patto sambodhim uttamaṃ catusaccaṃ pakāsesi 
mahāviraṃ namāmihaṃ etena saccavajjena sabbe mārā palāyantu

The Lord who crushed the fivefold ills, won wisdom’s further shore,And showed the Fourfold Truth, that mighty hero I adore;By strength of this true utterance may all the ills disperse. By this good deed may those my guides, whose virtue I rehearse,

iminā puññakammena upajjhāyā guṇuttarā
ācāri upakārā ca mātā pitā piyā mamaṃ 
My teachers, my supporters too, mother and father dear,
suriyo candimā rājā guṇavantā narā pi ca
May sun and moon that rule the sky, all men that good names bear,
Brahmā Mārā ca Indā va lokapālā ca devatā
Brahmā’s, Mārā’s and Indā’s, and the gods that guard the sphere,
yamo mittā manussā ca majjhattā verikā pi ca
Yama, and friendly men and foes,and who nor hate and friendship knows-
sabbe sattā sukhī hontu puññāni pakatāni me
All beings be fulfilled of bliss! And may the merits that I gain
sukhañca tividhaṃ dentu khippaṃ pāpetha vo mataṃ 
give threefold bliss, and speedily may ye your mind’s desire attain!
iminā puññākammena iminā uddisena ca
By this good deed of mine and this recital I aspire
khippāhaṃ sulabhe ceva taṇhupāndāna chedanaṃ
quickly to cleave the bonds of birth and roots of all desire.
ye santānehinā dhammā yāva nibbānato mamaṃ
May all vile states arising here, until Nibbāna’s goal,
nassantu sabbadā yeva yattha jāto bhave bhave
Perish,wherever I be born,whatever new births unroll.
uju-cittaṃ sati paññā sallekho viriyaṃ ‘minā
With mind erect, thought fixed and wise,austere, with will alert,
Mārā labhantu n’okāsaṃ kātuñca viriyesu me
Thus striving, may no Mara’s find the chance to do me hurt.
buddhādi-pavaro nātho dhammo nātho varuttamo
Most excellent the Lords [I own] ; the Buddha and the Dhamma,
nātho pacceka-sambuddho saṅgho nāthottaro mamaṃ
And the Paccheka-Buddhas and the Saṅgha I adore.
tesottamānubhāvena Māro ‘kāsaṃ labhantu mā.
May Mara’s never win a chance, averted by their power.

Meditation of the Fivefold Zest (or rapture). The Order Due ( Paṭipāṭi ).

(namo tassa bhagavato arahato sammāsambuddhassa
(Tatiya-vāraṃ. X3) (to be chanted thrice)
Glory to him, the Blessed One, the Worthy, the Self fully Enlightened One.

Okāsa. Accayo [no / me] bhante accagamā yathā bāle yathā mūḷhe yathā akusale ye mayaṃ akaramhā evaṃ bhante mayaṃ accayo no paṭiggaṇhatha āyatiṃ saṃvarāya 
(Tatiya-vāraṃ. X3)
(to be chanted thrice)
Lord Buddha! We beg thee to pardon our trangressions of body,speech and mind we may have done in youthful ignorance,with mind confused through lack of skill, for the sake of our guidance hereafter.

Okāsa. Ahaṃ paṭipatti pūjāya ovadaṃ sabbaññu-Gotamassa paṭikaromi.
Give leave! In reverence for the teachings of the All-Enlightened One, Gotama, I strive his teachings to fulfill.

Ahaṃ yācāmi uggahanimittañca paṭibhāga-nimittañ upacāravidhiṃ appanāsamādhividhiṃ antogabbha-pañcapītisu khaṇikā-pītiṃ.
I ask for the mark of upholding, for the image of the mark, for the way to the access, for the way to ecstatic concentration, and for the momentary rapture (second in degree) among the five Raptures known to the inmost shrine of my being.

Navalokuttaradhammā jātā buddhassa dhammassa paccekabuddhassa 
Nine are the states sublime born of the Buddha, of the Dhamma, of the Paccheka-Buddha,
saṅghassa asīti mahāsāvakānaṃ nibbānnaṃ atikkantānaṃ catusu 
of the Saṅgha, of the eighty great disciples, of those who crossed the stream,more in number than the sands
mahāsameddesu vāḷukā parājaya. Tan te paveni paramparā vitthāraṃ yācāmi.
of the oceans four. I ask for them one by one, from stage to stage.

continues……………………………

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The Mass Suicide of Monks in Discourse and Vinaya Literature by Venerable Anālayo

The Mass Suicide of Monks in Discourse and Vinaya Literature*

Venerable Anālayo

With an Addendum by Richard Gombrich

In the first part of the present article I examine the canonical accounts of a narrative that accompanies the pārājika rule on killing. The narrative concerns a mass suicide by monks disgusted with their own bodies, which reportedly happened after the Buddha had praised seeing the body as bereft of beauty, aśubha. I argue that this episode needs to be understood in the light of the need of the early Buddhist tradition to demarcate its position in the ancient Indian context vis-à-vis ascetic practices and ideology.

The mass suicide by monks is found in discourse and Vinaya texts. This is significant for appreciating the respective roles of these two types of literature, a topic that I will explore in detail in the second part of this article, in dialogue with observations made in a recent monograph by Shayne Clarke on family matters in Indian Buddhist monasticism.

Introduction

The topics I will cover are as follows:

Part 1) The Mass Suicide of monks

1) Translation of the Saṃyukta Āgama  . Discourse

2) The Vinaya Versions

3) Early Buddhism and Ancient Indian Asceticism

______________________________________________________________ * I am indebted to Adam Clarke, Martin Delhey, Sāmanerī Dhammadinnā, Richard Gombrich, . Petra Kieffer-Pülz, and Tse-fu Kuan for commenting on a draft version of this article.

jocbs. 2014 (7): 11–55. © 2014 Anālayo

 

Part ii) Discourse and Vinaya literature

4) Vinaya Material in Discourse Literature

5) Family Matters in Pāli Discourses

6) Reading Vinaya Literature

 

Part i) The Mass Suicide of Monks

In what follows I begin with the discourse versions that report the mass suicide of monks, based on translating the Saṃyukta Āgama  . discourse, and follow by studying the narrative in six extant Vinaya versions.

1) Translation of the Saṃyukta Āgama . Discourse 1

Thus have I heard. At one time the Buddha was staying in a Śāla tree grove alongside the river Valgumudā, by a village of the Vṛjis. 2  At that time the Blessed One spoke to the monks on contemplating the absence of beauty; he praised contemplating the absence of beauty (aśubha), saying: “Monks, one who cultivates contemplating the absence of beauty, much cultivates it, attains great fruit and great benefit.”3

Having cultivated contemplating the absence of beauty, the monks then exceedingly loathed their bodies. Some killed themselves with a knife, some took poison, some hanged themselves with a rope or committed suicide by throwing themselves down from a crag, some got another monk to kill them.4

A certain monk, who had given rise to excessive loathing and aversion on being exposed to the absence of beauty, approached *Mṛgadaṇḍi[ka], the son .__________________________________________________________________________________

1 The translated discourse is SĀ 809 at T II 207b21 to 208a8, parallel to SN 54.9 at SN V 320,7 to 322,13; for a reference to this discourse in the Vyākhyāyukti cf. Skilling 2000: 344. In order not to overburden the footnotes to this translation, in what follows I only note selected variations between the two discourse versions (except when discussing an issue of Chinese translation in note 5 below, where I also take up several of the Vinaya versions).

2 SĀ 809 at T II 207b21: 跋求摩河, for reconstructing the Sanskrit name I follow Akanuma 1930/1994: 725. The location in SN 54.9 at SN V 320,7 is the Hall with the Peaked Roof in the Great Wood by Vesālī.

3 SN 54.9 does not report any direct speech and thus only has a counterpart to the preceding sentence, according to which the Buddha spoke in praise of cultivating aśubha.

4 SN 54.9 at SN V 320,23 reports that on a single day ten, twenty or thirty monks committed suicide.

of a Brahmin.5  He said to *Mṛgadaṇḍi[ka], the son of a Brahmin: “Venerable, . if you can kill me, my robes and bowl will belong to you.”6 Then *Mṛgadaṇḍi[ka], the son of a Brahmin, killed that monk. Carrying . the knife he went to the bank of the river Valgumudā. [207c] When he was washing the knife, a Māra deity, who stood in mid-air, praised *Mṛgadaṇḍi[ka], . the son of a Brahmin: “It is well, it is well, venerable one. You are attaining innumerable merits by being able to get recluses, sons of the Śākyan, upholders of morality and endowed with virtue, who have not yet crossed over to cross over, who have not yet been liberated to be liberated, getting those who have not yet been stilled to attain stillness, getting those who have not yet [attained] Nirvāṇa to attain Nirvāṇa; and all their monastic possessions, robes, bowls, . and various things, they all belong to you.”

Having heard this praise *Mṛgadaṇḍi[ka], the son of a Brahmin, then further increased his evil and wrong view, thinking: “I am truly creating great merit now by getting recluses, sons of the Śākyan, upholders of morality and [endowed] with virtue, who have not yet crossed over to cross over, who have not yet been liberated to be liberated, getting those who have not yet been stilled to attain stillness, getting those who have not yet [attained] Nirvāṇa to  attain Nirvāṇa; and their robes, bowls, and various things all belong to me.” .

Hence he went around the living quarters, the areas for walking meditation, the individual huts, and the meditation huts, holding in his hand a sharp knife. On seeing monks he spoke in this way: “Which recluses, upholders of morality and endowed with virtue, who have not yet crossed over can I get to

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5 SĀ 809 at T II 207b29 reads 鹿林, which I emend to鹿杖. The first part of the name is unproblematic, as 鹿 renders “deer”, mṛga/miga. The second part 林 could refer to a “forest”, dāva/dāya, vana or ṣaṇḍa/saṇḍa , which could then reflect the name *Mṛgaṣaṇḍi[ka]. The Chinese counterpart . to the Samantapāsādikā, T 1426 at T XXIV 744c22, however, renders his name as 鹿杖 (note that Sp II 399,15 gives his name as Migaladdhika, whereas Vin III 68,21 speaks of Migalaṇḍika). The . rendering 鹿杖 is also found in the Mahāsānghika, Mūlasarvāstivāda, and Sarvāstivāda Vinaya versions of the present event, T 1425 at T XXII 254b11, T 1442 at T XXIII 659c28, and T 1435 at T XXIII 7c4. The use of 鹿杖 suggests, as noted by Bapat and Hirakawa 1970: 292 note 21, an original *Mṛgadaṇḍi[ka], which I use to reconstruct his name. As already suggested by Horiuchi 2006 (in . an English summary of his paper given on page 120 of the journal; due to my ignorance of Japanese this is the only part of his research that I have been able to consult) the reading 鹿林 in SĀ 809 would originally have been 鹿杖. This could well be the result of a scribal error confounding 杖 and 林, two characters that easily can get mixed up with each other; in fact the reference to 鹿杖 in T 1442 at T XXIII 659c28 has 林 as a variant for 杖.

6 Such a tale is not found in SN 54.9, although it does occur in the Theravāda Vinaya, Vin III 68,21.

cross over, who have not yet been liberated can I get to be liberated, who have not yet been stilled can I get to attain stillness, who have not yet [attained] Nirvāṇa can I get to attain Nirvāṇa?” .

All the monks who loathed their bodies then came out of their monastic living quarters and said to *Mṛgadaṇḍi[ka], the son of a Brahmin: “I have not yet attained the crossing over, you should [make] me cross over, I have not yet attained liberation, you should liberate me, I have not yet attained stillness, you should get me to attain stillness, I have not yet attained Nirvāṇa, . you should get me to attain Nirvāṇa.” .

Then *Mṛgadaṇḍi[ka], the son of a Brahmin, killed the monks one after another with his sharp knife until he had killed sixty men.

At that time, on the fifteenth day, at the time for reciting the rules, the Blessed One sat in front of the community and said to the venerable Ānanda: “What is the reason, what is the cause that the monks have come to be few, have come to decrease, have come to disappear?”

Ānanda said to the Buddha: “The Blessed One spoke to the monks on contemplating the absence of beauty, he praised contemplating the absence of beauty. Having cultivated contemplating the absence of beauty, the monks exceedingly loathed their bodies … to be spoken in full up to … he killed sixty monks. Blessed One, this is the reason and the cause why the monks have come to be few, have come to decrease, have come to disappear.

“May the Blessed One give them another teaching so that, having heard it, the monks will diligently cultivate wisdom and delight in receiving the true Dharma, delight in abiding in the true Dharma.”

The Buddha said to Ānanda:7 “Therefore I will now teach you step by step [how] to abide in a subtle abiding that inclines to awakening and that quickly brings about the stilling of already arisen and not yet arisen evil and unwholesome states. It is just as a heavy rain from the sky can bring about the stilling of arisen and not yet arisen dust.8 In the same way, monks, cultivating this subtle abiding can bring about the stilling of all [already] arisen and not yet arisen evil and unwholesome states. [208a] Ānanda, what is the subtle abiding which, being much cultivated, inclines to awakening, and which can bring

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7 In SN 54.9 at SN V 321,10 the Buddha has Ānanda first convene all the monks that live in the area of Vesālī.

8 The corresponding simile in SN 54.9 at SN V 321,25 only mentions dust that has already arisen, not dust that has not yet arisen.

about the stilling of already arisen and not yet arisen evil and unwholesome states? It is this: abiding in mindfulness of breathing.”

Ānanda said to the Buddha: “How does one cultivate the abiding in mindfulness of breathing so that one inclines to awakening and can bring about the stilling of already arisen and not yet arisen evil and unwholesome states?”9

The Buddha said to Ānanda: “Suppose a monk dwells in dependence on a village … to be spoken in full as above up to … he trains to be mindful of breathing out [contemplating] cessation.”10

When the Buddha had spoken this discourse, hearing what the Buddha had said the venerable Ānanda was delighted and received it respectfully.11

2) The Vinaya Versions

In addition to the Saṃyukta Āgama . version and its Saṃyutta-nikāya . parallel, representing a Mūlasarvāstivāda and a Theravāda line of textual transmission,12 the same story occurs in six Vinayas as part of their exposition of the pārājika rule regarding killing a human being. These are the Dharmaguptaka, Mahāsānghika, ˙ Mahīśāsaka, Mūlasarvāstivāda, Sarvāstivāda, and Theravāda Vinayas.13

In agreement with the other Vinayas, the Theravāda Vinaya reports that the monks were killed by a certain person; his name in the Pāli version is Migalan. dika. . The Samyutta-nikāya . discourse, however, does not mention this episode. This has the unexpected result that there is a prominent discrepancy between two versions belonging to the same Theravāda canon.

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9 In SN 54.9 at SN V 322,3 this question is part of the Buddha’s own speech, instead of being posed by Ānanda.  

10 The reference is to a preceding discourse in the Saṃyukta Āgama . collection, which gives the sixteen step scheme for mindfulness of breathing in full. In the Saṃyukta Āgama . this scheme has cessation as its last step, whereas in the Pāli parallel the last step is letting go; cf. SN 54.1 at SN V 312,19 and for a translation and comparative study of the corresponding exposition in Mahāsānghika and Mūlasarvāstivāda canonical texts Anālayo 2007 and 2013b: 227–237. ˙

11 Instead of the standard conclusion, reporting the delight of the audience, SN 54.9 at SN V 322,10 concludes with the Buddha repeating his introductory statement on the benefits of mindfulness of breathing practised in this way.

12 On the school affiliation of the Saṃyukta Āgama . cf., e.g., Lü 1963: 242, Waldschmidt 1980: 136, Mayeda 1985: 99, Enomoto 1986: 23, Schmithausen 1987: 306, Choong 2000: 6 note 18, Hiraoka 2000, Harrison 2002: 1, Oberlies 2003: 64, Bucknell 2006: 685, and Glass 2010.

13 In what follows I take up only selected differences, as a full comparative study of all versions is beyond the scope of this article. 

A variation in this aspect of the tale occurs also within the textual corpus of the Mūlasarvāstivāda Vinaya, where the story can be found twice: once in the Vinayavibhanga ˙ for bhikṣus and again in the Vinayavibhanga ˙ for bhikṣunīṣ. The Chinese translation of the Mūlasarvāstivāda Vinayavibhanga ˙ for bhikṣus has the *Mṛgadaṇḍi[ka] tale, whereas the Vinayavibhanga for bhikṣunīṣ does not mention *Mṛgadaṇḍi[ka] at all. . 14 The corresponding passages in the Tibetan translation of the Mūlasarvāstivāda Vinaya, however, give this tale on both occasions, that is, in the Vinayavibhanga˙s for bhikṣus and for bhikṣunīṣ.15 This makes it clear that the short version in the Chinese translation of the Vinayavibhanga ˙ for bhikṣunīṣ must be an abbreviation, as the whole tale has already been given in the preceding Vinayavibhanga for bhikṣus.

Returning to the Theravāda canonical sources, the circumstance that the Saṃyutta-nikāya . discourse occurs among collected sayings on mindfulness of breathing may have been responsible for a shortened narrative introduction to what in this context is the main theme: the sixteen steps of mindfulness of breathing. In a collection of discourses on this meditation practice, it is indeed relevant to show the function of mindfulness of breathing as a remedy for excessive disgust with the body, whereas the details of how the monks killed themselves are not relevant. In contrast, in the Theravāda Vinaya the issue at stake is killing and assisting suicide, hence it is natural to find more attention given to the activities of Migalaṇḍika.The Saṃyutta-nikāya . discourse itself indicates that the monks satthahārakaṃ pariyesanti. 16 Some translators understand this expression to imply that they were looking for someone to kill them.17 On this reading, the present passage would

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14 In contrast to the detailed description of *Mṛgadaṇḍi[ka]’s killings in the . Vinayavibhanga ˙ for bhikṣus, T 1442 at T XXIII 659c28, the actual story in the Vinayavibhanga ˙ for bhikṣunīṣ is very short. The part that comes after the Buddha’s recommendation of the practice of aśubha, and before his inquiry why the monks have become so few, reads as follows, T 1443 at T XXIII 923b17 to b20: “The monks then contemplated the absence of beauty. After having cultivated it, they gave rise to thorough disgust with their bodies [full] of pus and blood. Some took a knife to kill themselves, some took poison, some hung themselves with a rope, some threw themselves down from a high rock, some killed each other in turn. At that time the community of monks gradually decreased.” This account has no allusion to an intervention by *Mṛgadaṇḍi[ka].

15 Vinayavibhanga for bhikṣus (parallel to T 1442): D 3 ca 133a7 or Q 1032 che 119b3, Vinayavibhanga for bhikṣunīṣ (parallel to T 1443): D 5 ta 52a3 or Q 1034 the 50b6.

16 SN 54.9 at SN V 320,22. 

17 Rhys Davids and Stede 1921/1993: 674 translate the term satthahāraka as “an assassin” and Bodhi 2000: 1773 renders the whole phrase satthahārakaṃ pariyesanti as “they sought for an assailant”; cf. also Thānissaro 2001/2013: 87, who argues that “the word . satthahāraka clearly means ‘assassin’ in other parts of the Canon (see, for example, MN 145).” Yet the significance of the expression in MN 145 at MN III 269,12 is not as self-evident as Thānissaro seems to think; cf. the . addendum by Richard Gombrich to the present paper. One of the Chinese parallels to MN 145, T 108 at T II 503a6, appears to be based on a similar Indic expression, reading 求⼑為食, where the use of ⼑ makes it clear that the translator understood the phrase to refer to a tool for killing, not a killer (as part of my comparative study of MN 145 in Anālayo 2011a: 830 note 50 I had noted this expression in T 108, without in that context having had the time to proceed to a closer study of the significance of the corresponding Pāli phrase).

then reflect implicit knowledge of the Migalaṇḍika tale. Yet this understanding . of the phrase seems doubtful, and others have taken the phrase to refer to looking not for a killer, but for a means to kill themselves (see the addendum below).18 In this case, the Samyutta-nikāya . discourse would be without any reference to the Migalaṇḍika episode, similar to the case of the Chinese Mūlasarvāstivāda . Vinayavibhanga for bhikṣunīṣ. 

In principle it is of course possible that the Theravāda Vinaya version is an expansion of the account in the Saṃyutta-nikāya . . 19 In this case the Saṃyutta-nikāya discourse would preserve an earlier version of the tale and the Saṃyukta- . āgama discourse and the Vinayas later versions that have incorporated the tale of *Mṛgadaṇḍi[ka] . However, to me this seems to be the less probable explanation, given that the Saṃyutta-nikāya . discourse and the Theravāda Vinaya share a story of the Buddha going on retreat,20 which is not attested in any of the other versions.21 The story of the Buddha’s retreat clearly shows that the two Theravāda versions did not develop in isolation from each other. This makes it in turn more probable that the absence of details on the Migalan. dika episode in the . Saṃyutta-nikāya . discourse would be intentional, in the sense of reflecting the

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18 Woodward 1930/1979: 284 translates the phrase satthahārakaṃ pariyesanti as “sought for a weapon to slay themselves”, and Hecker 1992/2003: 367 similarly as “sie suchten eine Waffe, um sich umzubringen.” Delhey 2009: 90 note 70 draws attention to the gloss on satthāharaka at Vin III 73,26 in support of taking the term to refer to a weapon instead of an assassin.

19 This has been suggested by Delhey 2009: 91 note 70.

20 SN 54.9 at SN V 320,12 and Vin III 68,6 report that the Buddha had gone on a retreat for two weeks, giving the explicit order that nobody was to approach him except for the person bringing him almsfood.

21 The Mahīśāsaka Vinaya reports that the Buddha had just risen from his meditation when he discovered that the community of monks had diminished, T 1421 at T XXII 7b21: 從三昧起. This does not seem to refer to a meditation retreat, but only to a rising from his daily meditation practice. If a comparable reference should have been found at an earlier point in the Theravāda version as well, it could easily have given rise to the idea of the Buddha going on a whole retreat.

teaching context of the discourse as part of a collection of instructions on mindfulness of breathing.

Be that as it may, the report shared by the Saṃyutta-nikāya . discourse and the Theravāda Vinaya that the Buddha had gone on a retreat is also significant in another way. The arising of this motif points to a need to reconcile the disastrous results of the monks attempting to engage in something the Buddha had recommended with the traditional belief that the Buddha was an outstanding and skillful teacher.22 The Pāli commentaries in fact build precisely on this retreat in their attempt to explain how such a grievous outcome could have happened.23

The mass suicide of the monks becomes particularly problematic once the Buddha is held to have been omniscient.24 While in the present case this is exceptionally evident, the same holds for most Vinaya narratives in general. These often feature the Buddha in the role of a law-giver who does not seem to foresee possible complications and therefore is repeatedly forced to adjust his rulings. Such a depiction is not easily reconciled with the belief that he was omniscient.25

Probably the same belief in the Buddha’s omniscience leads the Pāli commentaries to explain that, when the Buddha asked Ānanda what had happened, he did

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22 As one of a standard set of epithets in the early discourses, the Buddha is reckoned to be the supreme trainer of persons to be tamed; cf., e.g., MN 27 at MN I 179,2 and its parallel MĀ 146 at T I 656c 28 (on the apparent confusion underlying the Chinese rendering of this phrase cf. Nattier 2003: 227). Bodhi 2013: 9f describes the traditional belief to be that the Buddha is able “to understand the mental proclivities and capacities of any person who comes to him for guidance and to teach that person in the particular way that will prove most beneficial, taking full account of his or her character and personal circumstances. He is thus ‘the unsurpassed trainer of persons to be tamed’”, and his “teaching is always exactly suited to the capacities of those who seek his help, and when they follow his instructions, they receive favourable results.”

23 According to Spk III 266,31 and Sp II 397,11, the Buddha knew that due to past deeds these monks had accumulated the karma of being killed. Not being able to prevent it, the Buddha decided to withdraw into solitary retreat. The commentaries also record an alternative explanation according to which the Buddha went into retreat foreseeing that some might try to blame him for not intervening in spite of his claim to be omniscient.

24 Mills 1992: 73 comments that the “Commentator grapples with the dilemma of proclaiming the Buddha omniscient on the one hand … while showing him doing nothing to stop his monks committing suicide”; for a more detailed study of the notion that the Buddha was omniscient cf. Anālayo 2014b: 117–127.

25 Gombrich 2007: 206f points out that “the idea that the Buddha was omniscient is strikingly at odds with the picture of him presented in every Vinaya tradition”, which “show that the Buddha … occasionally made a false start and found it necessary to reverse a decision. Since omniscience includes knowledge of the future, this is not omniscience.” That tradition had to grapple with this problem can be seen in the dilemma raised at Mil 272,18.   

so knowingly.26 That is, he inquired only for the sake of getting the conversation started. Explicit indications that the Buddha inquired knowingly, not out of ignorance, are also found in the Dharmaguptaka Vinaya, the Chinese translation of the Mūlasarvāstivāda Vinayavibhanga for bhikṣunīṣ, and the Sarvāstivāda Vinaya. 27 Coming back to the *Mṛgadaṇḍi[ka] tale, the Mahāsānghika ˙ Vinaya differs from the other versions in so far as it presents this episode right at the outset.28 It begins by reporting that a monk who had been very sick asked his attendant to help him commit suicide. The attendant passed on this request to *Mṛgadaṇḍi[ka]. . 29 *Mṛgadaṇḍi[ka] killed the monk, but then felt remorse. . 30 A Māra deity appeared and praised him for the killing, after which he went around offering to kill monks. It is at this point only that the Buddha gives a talk on the absence of beauty,31 which then motivates the monks to take up *Mṛgadaṇḍi[ka]’s offer . to help them across by killing them.

According to the Mahāsānghika, the Mūlasarvāstivāda, and the Sarvāstivāda ˙ Vinayas he killed up to sixty monks.32 The number sixty occurs also in the Dharmaguptaka, Mahīśāsaka, and Theravāda Vinayas, but here this is the maximum

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26 Spk III 268,25 and Sp II 401,25. Mills 1992: 73 notes that here “the Commentator arrives at another difficult point: explaining why the Buddha asked Ānanda where the monks had gone. If he was omniscient he knew already; if not, then he would be like ordinary people who need to ask … such complications always follow from claims to omniscience.”

27 T 1428 at T XXII 576a25:知⽽故問, T 1443 at T XXIII 923b20: 知⽽故問 (notably a remark without a counterpart in its Tibetan counterpart D 5 ta 53a1 or Q 1034 the 51b3, or in the account given in Vinayavibhanga ˙ for bhik. sus, T 1442 at T XXIII 660a15 and its Tibetan counterpart D 3 ca 134a5 or Q 1032 che 120a8), and T 1435 at T XXIII 7c15: 知故問. In Anālayo 2014a: 46f I have argued that the addition of such a phrase in the case of a Dīrgha-āgama discourse is probably the outcome of commentarial influence, which may well hold also for the present case, in view of the similar indication being found in Spk III 268,25 and Sp II 401,25.

28 T 1425 at T XXII 254b11.

29 T 1425 at T XXII 254a2.

30 His remorse for the first act of killing is also reported in the Dharmaguptaka, Mahīśāsaka, and Theravāda Vinayas; cf. T 1428 at T XXII 575c28, T 1421 at T XXII 7b7, and Vin III 68,28 (in these versions this occurs after the Buddha had commended contemplation of aśubha). According to Sp II 399,26, he had approached the Vaggumudā river, whose waters were believed to be auspicious, in order to wash away not only the blood, but also the evil he had done.

31 T 1425 at T XXII 254b20.

32 T 1425 at T XXII 254b25, T 1442 at T XXIII 660a13 with its Tibetan counterpart in D 3 ca 134a3 or Q 1032 che 120a7, and T 1435 at T XXIII 7c13. As part of Ānanda’s report to the Buddha, T 1425 at T XXII 254c3 explicitly specifies that during a fortnight sixty men were killed, and T 1442 at T XXIII 660a21 indicates that he killed a total of sixty monks.

number of those he killed in a single day.33 This results in a much higher count of casualties. According to the Samantapāsādikā, commenting on the Theravāda Vinaya, he killed five hundred monks in total.34

While the Dharmaguptaka Vinaya does not give a total count of the killings, it shows the situation to have been rather dramatic. In a description without counterpart in the other versions it reports that the laity got so upset at the monastery being full of dead bodies like a cemetery that they decided to stop their support for the monks.35

Together with the higher number of casualties, this attests to a tendency to dramatize the event, probably reflecting the development of the narrative in a Vinaya teaching context for the purpose of inculcating the need to avoid such suicidal behaviour. The more dramatic the tale, the better the lesson will be learned.

Alongside narrative elements related to the need to reconcile the story with the belief in the Buddha’s omniscience and the apparent tendency towards dramatization, the main thread of the narrative is the same in the two discourse versions and the six Vinaya versions. The gist of the story thus would be as follows: The Buddha recommends the practice of contemplation of aśubha. In all versions he only gives such a general recommendation, without providing any detailed instructions. The monks then engage in this on their own and presumably in a way that lacks the balance that would have come with full instructions.36 As a result of

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33 T 1428 at T XXII 576a12, T 1421 at T XXII 7b20, and Vin III 69,20 report that he killed from one up to sixty per day; for a partial translation of this part of T 1421 cf. Dhammajoti 2009: 257.

34 Sp II 401,21. 35T 1428 at T XXII 576a14 to a20: “Then in that monastic dwelling there was a disarray of corpses; it was a stinking and impure place, being in a condition like a cemetery. Then householders, paying their respects at one monastery after the other, reached this monastic dwelling. Having seen it, they were all shocked and jointly expressed their disapproval: ‘In this monastic dwelling an alteration has taken place. The recluses, sons of the Śākyan, are without kindness or compassion, killing each other. They claim of themselves: ‘We cultivate the true Dharma.’ What true Dharma is there in killing each other in this way? These monks even kill each other, let alone other people. From now on we will no longer worship, respect, and make offerings to the recluses, sons of the Śākyan.” For an alternative translation of this passage cf. Heng Tao (et al.) 1983: 67. On the conflict between the need of Buddhist monastics to ensure lay support by maintaining a proper public image and modes of monastic conduct related to the dead and cemeteries cf. Schopen 2006.

  36 Spk III 265,22 and Sp II 393,22 relate the Buddha’s recommendation on cultivating aśubha to contemplating the anatomical parts. In MN 10 at MN I 57,20 and its parallel MĀ 98 at T I 583b9 such contemplation of the anatomical parts of one’s own body comes together with a simile that describes looking at a container filled with grains; cf. also the Śikṣāsamuccaya, Bendall 1902/1970: 210,8, and the Arthaviniścaya-sūtra, Samtani 1971: 24,4. This simile seems to be intended to convey nuances of balance and detachment, instead of aversion; cf. in more detail Anālayo 2003: 149 and 2013b: 68. In fact in early Buddhist meditation theory contemplating the body as aśubha comes together with other practices that relate to the body in a different way, resulting in an anchoring in the body through postural awareness and in the experience of intense bodily bliss and happiness with the attainment of absorption; cf. in more detail Anālayo 2014d. The present case shows a similar counterbalancing, where an attitude of loathing the body finds its antidote by anchoring mindfulness in the body through awareness of the breath; on the practice of mindfulness of breathing cf. in more detail Anālayo 2003: 125–136 and 2013b: 227–240. 

this, they are so disgusted with their own bodies that they commit suicide, on their own or with assistance. As soon as he is informed of this, the Buddha intervenes and stops the monks from going so far as to kill themselves.

3) Early Buddhism and Ancient Indian Asceticism

Even when shorn of dramatic elements found only in some versions and after setting aside the belief in the Buddha’s omniscience, the tale of the monks’ mass suicide is still perplexing. Its depiction of the practice of aśubha going overboard to the extent that monks commit suicide needs to be considered within its cultural and religious context.

Among ancient Indian ascetic traditions in general, suicide was considered an appropriate means in certain circumstances;37 particularly famous in this respect is a Jain practice often referred to as sallekhanā, where the accomplished saint fasts to death.38 Keeping in mind this context helps to comprehend better the idea of helping monks who have not yet crossed to cross over by assisting them in suicide.

Not only does suicide appear to have been an accepted practice among some ancient Indian recluses; an attitude of disgust towards the body also seems to have been fairly commonplace in ascetic circles.39 The thorough disgust the monks in the above tale came to feel towards their own bodies finds illustration in several Vinaya versions in a simile. This simile describes a youthful person fond of ornament

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37 Cf., e.g., Kane 1941: 924–928 and 1953: 604–614, Thakur 1963, Filliozat 1967, Sircar 1971, Olivelle 1978, and Oberlies 2006.

38 Cf., e.g., Tatia 1968, Tukol 1976, Caillat 1977, Bilimoria 1992, Bronkhorst 1993/2000: 31–36, Settar 1990, Skoog 2003, and Laidlaw 2005; on suicide by Ājīvikas cf. Basham 1951: 63f, 84–90, and 127–131.

39 On the generally negative attitude towards the body in ancient Indian ascetic circles cf., e.g., Olivelle 2002.

who finds the carcass of a dead snake, a dead dog, or even of a human corpse hung around his or her neck.40

Notably, this rather stark simile recurs in a discourse in the Anguttara-nikāya ˙ and its parallels to describe the attitude of a fully awakened one towards his own body. The narrative context depicts the arhat Śāriputra defending himself against a wrong accusation by another monk. Śāriputra illustrates his mental attitude by comparing it to each of the four elements — earth, water, fire and wind — which do not react when any dirt or impurity is thrown on them. Other comparisons take up the docile nature of a dehorned ox or the humble attitude of an outcaste. Then Śāriputra uses the imagery of having the carcass of a dead corpse hung around one’s neck to illustrate how he is “repelled, revolted, and disgusted with this foul body”, that is, his own body.41 Similar statements can be found in two Āgama parallels.42

In the case of another reference to “this foul body”, however, the parallel versions do not have such a reference. Here a nun, who also appears to be an arhat,43 replies to Māra who tries to tempt her with sensuality. According to the Pāli version, she proclaims herself “repelled and revolted by this foul body”.44 Two

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40 This is the case for the Dharmaguptaka, Mahīśāsaka, Sarvāstivāda, and Theravāda Vinayas: T 1428 at T XXII 575c16, T 1421 at T XXII 7a29, T 1435 at T XXIII 7b25, and Vin III 68,16 (the simile is not found in SN 54.9). 

41 AN 9.11 at AN IV 377,2: ahaṃ, bhante, iminā pūtikāyena aṭṭiyāmi harāyāmi jigucchāmi. When considered within its context, the statement seems a bit out of place. The earlier similes, found also in the parallel versions, illustrate a balanced and non-reactive attitude, where the elements do not react with aversion towards anything impure. The present simile instead conveys a reaction, and a rather strong one at that. The simile thereby does not fulfil the purpose of illustrating a non-reactive attitude. This leaves open the possibility that during oral transmission the earlier references to the elements bearing up with impure things might have attracted the present simile, since it is also concerned with the topic of impurity. This remains speculation, however, since similar statements are found in two parallels; cf. the note below.

42 MĀ 24 at T I 453c13: “I frequently contemplate the foul and impure parts of this body with a mental attitude of being embarrassed and ashamed and filled with utter disgust”, 常觀此身臭處不 淨, ⼼懷羞慙, 極惡穢之”, and EĀ 37.6 at T II 713b1: “I am disgusted with this body”, 厭患此身.

43 The description in SN 5.4 at SN I 131,12 indicates that she had gone beyond sensual desire and desire related to the form and formless realms, which would imply that she had become an arhat. The parallels are more explicit in this respect. SĀ 1204 at T II 328a11 indicates that she had eradicated the influxes (āsava), and SĀ2 220 at T II 455b21 reports that she had cut off all craving; for a translation of SĀ 1204 cf. Anālayo 2014c: 128f.

44 SN 5.3 at SN I 131,11: iminā pūtikāyenaaṭṭiyāmi (Be and Ce : aṭṭīyāmi) harāyāmi. Another comparable reference by bhikkhunī Khemā can be found in Thī 140.

parallel versions of her reply to Māra do not have a corresponding expression.45 In these discourses she expresses her lack of interest in sensual pleasure without bringing up a loathing for her own body and without qualifying her body as foul.46 The variation found in this instance seems to reflect some degree of ambivalence in the early Buddhist texts vis-à-vis the ancient Indian ascetic attitude of being disgusted with the body, something that is also evident from other passages.

The need to avoid the excesses of asceticism already forms a theme of what according to tradition was the first discourse given by the Buddha after his awakening, which sets aside asceticism as one of the two extremes to be avoided.47 The Buddha’s claim to have reached awakening after giving up asceticism met with a rather hesitant reaction by his first five disciples. This exemplifies the difficulties of getting the Buddhist path to awakening acknowledged in a setting dominated by ascetic values.

The Mahāsakuludāyi-sutta and its parallel report that, on being praised for his ascetic qualities, the Buddha clarified that some of his disciples were considerably more ascetic than himself.48 His lack of conforming to ascetic values as a Buddha is to some extent made up for by his pre-awakening practices, where he is on record as having himself tried out breath control and fasting.49 Other ascetic practices and a life of total seclusion from human contact, described in the Mahāsīhanāda-sutta, apparently reflect previous life experiences as an ascetic.50

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45 SĀ 1204 at T II 328a6 and SĀ2 220 at T II 455b17.

46  Another occurrence of the “foul body” in SN 22.87 at SN III 120,27, here used by the Buddha to refer to his own body, also does not recur in the parallels. In this case, however, the parallels do not have a counterpart to the entire statement that in SN 22.87 leads up to the expression: in SĀ 1265 at T II 346c1 the Buddha’s instruction follows a different trajectory and EĀ 26.10 at T II 642c20 does not report any instruction at all; cf. in more detail Anālayo 2011d.

47 For a study of the Chinese versions of this discourse cf. Anālayo 2012b and 2013a.

48 MN 77 at MN II 6,31 and MĀ 207 at T I 782c21.

49 MN 36 at MN I 243,4 and a Sanskrit fragment parallel in Liu 2010: 171; on the significance of fasting in ancient Indian ascetic traditions cf. Olivelle 1991: 23–35

50 MN 12 at MN I 77,28 and its parallel T 757 at T XVII 597a13. The allocation of these ascetic practices to a past life emerges from Jā 94 at Jā I 390,16, noted by Hecker 1972: 54. MN 12 at MN I 77,23 introduces these practices simply as something from the past, without this necessarily being the past of the same lifetime of the Buddha, and MN 12 at MN I 81,36 then turns to other experiences the Buddha had in former lives. As already pointed out by Dutoit 1905: 50 and Freiberger 2006: 238, several of the austerities listed in MN 12 would in fact not fit into the account of events before the Buddha’s awakening: his dwelling in solitude was such that he went into hiding as soon as any human approached from afar, which does not square with the traditional account that he was in the company of the five who later became his first disciples. His undertaking of ritual bathing three times a day does not match the description of dust and dirt accumulating on his body over the years to the extent of falling off in pieces. The depiction of his practice of nakedness stands in contrast to his wearing different ascetic garments. Such a variety of ascetic practices could only be fitted into a whole life of asceticism, as reported in the Jātaka account, not into the few years of austerities practised by the Buddha-to-be before his awakening. Although Bronkhorst 1993/2000: 22 comments that “it is hard to see in what other context this part could originally have existed”, taking into account Jā 94 suggests that it could have originated as an account of ascetic practices done by the Buddha in a previous lifetime, thereby documenting that his rejection of such practices was based on having himself tried out and found them not conducive to liberation.

The Buddha’s personal acquaintance with asceticism is also reflected in iconography, vividly depicting his emaciated body after prolonged fasting.

buddha

Figure 1: Fasting Siddhārtha

Lahore Museum, courtesy of John and Susan Huntington, The Huntington Archive at The Ohio State University.51

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51 Cf. also Bapat 1923: 142 and Rhi 2006/2008: 127–131, as well as the discussion in Behrendt 2010.

The need to accord a proper place to ascetic values within the Buddhist tradition has also found its expression in the form of the dhutanga’ s. These comprise such activities as wearing rags as robes, subsisting only on almsfood, dwelling at the root of a tree, staying in a cemetery or just living out in the open, not reclining (even at night), accepting any type of accommodation, and taking one’s meal in a single session per day.52

The tension in early Buddhism between the need to accommodate ancient Indian asceticism and not going too far in that direction is well exemplified in the two figures of Mahākāśyapa and Devadatta. Mahākāśyapa features as an outstanding disciple renowned for his asceticism.53 Devadatta is on record for having caused the first schism in the early Buddhist tradition through his request that some ascetic practices be made binding on all monks.54

It is against this background of ancient Indian ascetic values that the significance of the Vinaya tale of the mass murder of monks and its relation to the pārājika rule on killing can be better appreciated. The tale is best understood in the light of the need of the early Buddhist tradition to demarcate its position in the ancient Indian context vis-à-vis ascetic practices and ideology.

Now the pārājika rule itself concerns intentionally depriving a human being of life and assisting others in committing suicide, or inciting them to kill themselves. Together with the actual rule, the accompanying narrative in the Vinaya has an important function for inculcating Buddhist monastic values. This is particularly so for a pārājika rule, an infringement of which involves loss of one’s status of being fully ordained.55 Therefore pārājika rules and the stories that come with them

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52 For a reference to such practices, notably here presented as potential bases for arousing conceit, cf. MN 113 at MN III 40,23 and its parallels MĀ 85 at T I 561c6 and T 48 at T I 838b14; on variations in the later standardized listings of ascetic practices cf., e.g., Bapat 1937, Dantinne 1991: 24–30, Ganguly 1989: 21–23, Nanayakkara 1989: 584, Ray 1994: 293–323, and Wilson 2004: 33

53 The listings of outstanding disciples in AN 1.14 at AN I 23,18 and EĀ 4.2 at T II 557b8 reckon him foremost in the observance of the ascetic practices; cf. also the Divyāvadāna, Cowell and Neil 1886: 395,23, and the Mahāvastu, Senart 1882: 64,14.

54 For detailed comparative studies of the Devadatta episode cf. Mukherjee 1966 and Bareau 1991.

55 The present pārājika rule applies to any fully ordained monk, independent of his particular living situation, pace Kovan 2013: 794, who holds that “pārājika rules (initiated in and) structured around a communal body are attenuated in solitude.” Kovan 2013: 794 note 27 bases this suggestion on contrasting individual suicides like those of Channa and Vakkali (on these two cases cf. in more detail Delhey 2006 and 2009 as well as Anālayo 2010b and 2011d) to the mass suicide of monks. In the case of the mass suicide, according to him “in that communal monastic context the Buddha’s condemnation of suicide is unequivocal and suggests nothing of the ‘particularism’ of the responses he appears to bring to the solitary monks in the other cases.” Now the pārājika rule common to the different Vinayas concerns killing someone else as well as inciting someone else to commit suicide or even actively assisting in it. “The solitary monks in the other cases” only killed themselves. Thus their cases do not reflect a restricted scope for this pārājika rule, an idea which as far as I can see is without a basis in Vinaya literature. Instead, they simply do not belong to the category of pārājika offences; cf. also below note 123.

can safely be expected to receive special attention in the training of a monastic.56

In view of this it seems to me that the main issue at stake is to demarcate the early Buddhist monastic identity in contrast to ancient Indian asceticism. The story is on purpose so dramatic, in order to make sure that newly ordained monks who are being taught the narrative context of the pārājika rule regarding killing clearly understand what goes too far. The vivid details of the drama throw into relief the importance of a balanced attitude that leads beyond sensuality without resulting in self-destructive tendencies.

The need to avoid killing living beings in general was commonly accepted in ancient Indian ascetic and recluse circles as part of the overarching value of non-violence, ahimsā . . It would therefore have been less in need of illustration through the main narrative that comes with the corresponding rule. It seems to me therefore natural that the story related to this rule takes up in particular the issue of assisting suicide, to throw into relief the early Buddhist attitude in this respect. In sum, the final versions of the tale of the mass suicide of monks are in my view best understood as being strongly influenced by narrative requirements resulting from a Vinaya teaching context.

In another study I took up the narrative that comes with the pārājika rule against sexual intercourse, concerning the monk Sudinna. I concluded that this narration sets early Buddhist monasticism in contrast to the Brahminical notion of a man’s duty to procreate and warns against excessive intimacy with one’s own family.57 In the present case of the pārājika rule against killing a human being, the narrative depicts excesses in ascetic values, resulting in a loathing of one’s own body to the extent of wishing to commit suicide.58

In a way, these two tales can be seen to negotiate the need of the early Buddhist monastic community to carve out a clear-cut identity in distinction to contemporary Brahmins and to ascetically inclined recluses.

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56 This is reflected, e.g., in Vin I 96,22, which reports that the four pārājikas should be taught right after full ordination has been received, in order to make sure that the newly ordained monk knows what must be avoided and thus preserves his status as a fully ordained bhikkhu.

57 Anālayo 2012a: 421f.

58Kuan 2008: 54 succinctly summarizes the lesson conveyed by the tale, in that the monks “did not realize that such practices are intended to remove desire for the body, not the body itself.”

The two narrations throw into relief these two extremes to be avoided, sensuality and excessive concern with family on the one hand and asceticism leading to self-destruction on the other hand. They thereby reiterate the contrast between the two extremes to be avoided that stands at the outset of what according to tradition was the first discourse spoken by the Buddha. With these two Vinaya narratives, the two extremes come alive through showcasing monastics going off the middle path.

Unlike the depiction of Sudinna’s breach of celibacy, the story about the mass suicide of monks is also found in two discourses, alongside the six Vinaya versions. This difference is of considerable importance for the second part of my study, since it provides significant indications for assessing the potential of reading Vinaya literature compared to reading the discourses.

Part ii) Discourse and Vinaya literature

4) Vinaya Material in Discourse Literature

A perusal of the early discourses soon makes it clear that these regularly contain Vinaya-related material. This holds not only for the Samyutta-nikāya . , which has the story of the mass suicide of monks, but also for each of the other three Nikāyas.59 The Mahāparinibbāna-sutta in the Dīgha-nikāya is a prominent example, apparently being the result of a wholesale importation of what originally was a Vinaya narrative.60 The same discourse in fact records the promulgation of a new type of rule against an obstinate monk and the application of this rule is then reported in the Theravāda Vinaya. 61 The promulgation of this rule is also found in the discourse parallels to the Mahāparinibbāna-sutta. 62

The Mahāparinibbāna-sutta does not stand alone in this respect. A similar pattern can be observed in the Alagaddūpama-sutta in the Majjhima-nikāya, whose depiction of another obstinate monk finds its complement in the Ther-

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59 Cf., e.g., Gethin 2014: 64. My presentation in what follows takes the Pāli discourses as its starting point since this is the only complete set of four Nikāyas/Āgamas at our disposal.

60 Cf., e.g., Frauwallner 1956: 46 and Hirakawa 1993/1998: 264.

61 DN 16 at DN II 154,17 and Vin II 290,9.

62 Waldschmidt 1951: 284,17 and 285,24 (§29.15), DĀ 2 at T I 26a19, T 5 at T I 168c13, T 6 at T I 184b12, T 7 at T I 204c4, and EĀ 42.3 at T II 751c7.

avāda Vinaya’s report of how he should be dealt with.63 His obstinate behaviour is also taken up in the Madhyama-āgama parallel to the Alagaddūpama-sutta, 64 as well as in the Dharmaguptaka, Mahāsānghika, Mahīśāsaka, Mūlasarvāstivāda, ˙ and Sarvāstivāda Vinayas.65 In this way the Mahāparinibbāna-sutta and the Alagaddūpama-sutta, together with their parallels, point to a close interrelation between discourse and Vinaya literature as a feature common to various schools.

The Alagaddūpama-sutta is not the sole instance of Vinaya material in the Majjhima-nikāya. The Sāmagāma-sutta offers detailed explanations on how to implement seven ways of settling litigation (adhikarana-samatha . ) in the monastic community; tradition reckons these seven to be part of the pātimokkha. 66 The seven ways of settling litigation recur in the parallels to the Sāmagāma-sutta as well as in the prātimok. sas of other schools.67

The Bhaddāli-sutta and the Kī .tāgiri-sutta in the same Majjhima-nikāya feature monks who openly refuse to follow a rule set by the Buddha.68 In both cases, similar indications can be found in their respective discourse parallels,69 and the story of Bhaddāli’s refusal recurs also in the Mahāsānghika ˙ Vinaya. 70

The seven ways of settling litigation are also listed in the Anguttara-nikāya ˙ , 71 which moreover contains a series of discourses elaborating on the reasons for the promulgation of pātimokkha rules in general.72 In addition, this collection has a

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63 MN 22 at MN I 130,2, with the whole event being reported again at Vin II 25,11 and Vin IV 133,33 as the background narration for legal actions to be taken. In his detailed study of the Theravāda pātimokkha, von Hinüber 1999: 70 considers the present case as one of several instances where material originated as part of a discourse and then came to be integrated in the Vinaya, noting that there is also evidence for a movement of texts in the opposite direction; cf. also his comments below in note 73.

64 MĀ 200 at T I 763b3.

65 The Dharmaguptaka Vinaya, T 1428 at T XXII 682a9, the Mahāsānghika ˙ Vinaya, T 1425 at T XXII 367a3, the Mahīśāsaka Vinaya, T 1421 at T XXII 56c12, the Mūlasarvāstivāda Vinaya, T 1442 at T XXIII 840b21 (cf. also Yamagiwa 2001: 86,7 and 87,8 (§6.1)), and the Sarvāstivāda Vinaya, T 1435 at T XXIII 106a3.

66 MN 104 at MN II 247,6 and Norman and Pruitt 2001: 108,5; cf. also Vin IV 207,1.

67MĀ 196 at T I 754a21 and T 85 at T I 905c4; for a comparative survey of the seven adhikarana- . śamatha in the different prātimok. sas cf. Pachow 1955: 211–213.

68 MN 65 at MN I 437,24 and MN 70 at MN I 474,1.

69 Parallels to MN 65: MĀ 194 at T I 746b27 and EĀ 49.7 at T II 800c2. Parallel to MN 70: MĀ 195 at T I 749c27.

70 T 1425 at T XXII 359b13.

71 AN 7.80 at AN IV 144,1, which is preceded by a series of discourses (7.71–78) on commendable qualities of an expert in the Vinaya.

72 AN 2.17 at AN I 98,9 to 100,7.

whole section with question and answers on various legal technicalities ranging from the ten reasons for the promulgation of rules to the topic of schism. This section closely corresponds to a section in the Theravāda Vinaya. 73 The exposition on the ten reasons for the promulgation of rules has a counterpart in a discourse in the Ekottarika-āgama, as well as in the different Vinayas.74

Most of this material reflects problematic issues that concern the monastic community, yet it is nevertheless found among the Pāli discourses. Clearly the mass suicide of monks is not unique in this respect and there seems to have been no definite and fixed dividing line between Vinaya material and the discourses. Turning to the Pāli Vinaya itself, according to the aniyata regulation a trustworthy female lay follower can charge a monk with a breach of a rule and such evidence requires the sangha ˙ to take action.75 The prātimok. sas of other schools agree in this respect.76 This confirms that, in regard to knowledge about breaches of rules and related Vinaya matters, the Buddhist monastic legislators did not operate from the perspective of a clear-cut divide between laity and monastics, nor were their concerns solely dominated by the wish to maintain a good reputation among the laity. In the case of the mass suicide of monks, the fact that we only have two discourse versions may well be due to the vicissitudes of transmission, as a result of which we do not have access to complete discourse collections of those schools of which we have at least a Vinaya.In the case of another Vinaya narrative found in the Anguttara-nikāya ˙ , concerning the foundation of the bhik. sunī . order,77 we in fact have not only two discourse parallels preserved in Chinese translation,78 but also a reference to yet another such discourse version in the Mahāsāmghika .

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73 AN 10.31–43 at AN V 70,3 to 79,3. As already noted by Norman 1983a: 28, this corresponds to Vin V 180,1 to 206,25. In relation to the Anguttara-nikāya ˙ in general, von Hinüber 1996/1997: 40 comments that this collection “contains sometimes rather old Vinaya passages … sometimes old material may be preserved from which the Vinayapi.taka has been built. In other cases the source of an AN paragraph may have been the Vinaya.”

74 EĀ 46.1 at T II 775c7; the ten reasons for the promulgation of rules can be found in the Dharmaguptaka Vinaya, T 1428 at T XXII 570c3, the Mahāsānghika ˙ Vinaya, T 1425 at T XXII 228c24, the Mahīśāsaka Vinaya, T 1421 at T XXII 3b29, the Mūlasarvāstivāda Vinaya, T 1442 at T XXIII 629b21, the Sarvāstivāda Vinaya, T 1435 at T XXIII 1c16, and the Theravāda Vinaya, Vin III 21,17.

75 Vin III 187,1.

76 For a comparative survey of the aniyata rules in the different prātimok. sas cf. Pachow 1955: 95–97.

77 AN 8.51 at AN IV 274,1.

78 MĀ 116 at T I 605a8 and T 60 at T I 856a4; cf. in more detail Anālayo 2011c.

Vinaya. 79 The reference clearly shows that a record of this event was found among the Mahāsāmghika discourse collections. This further confirms the overall im- . pression that the textual collections were not based on keeping Vinaya related material apart from discourses meant for public consumption. Instead, these two types of literature are closely interrelated and the tale of the mass suicide of monks is an example of a recurrent tendency.

5) Family Matters in Pāli Discourses

In order to corroborate my conclusion that information on monastic issues can be found not only in Vinaya texts, but also in the discourses, in what follows I turn to another topic that comes to the fore in the Sudinna episode that forms the background to the pārājika against sexual intercourse, namely its warning against excessive intimacy with one’s own family. Unlike the case of the mass suicide of monks, Sudinna’s breach of celibacy to ensure the continuity of his family line is not recorded among the early discourses, but only in different Vinayas. The topic of how Indian Buddhist monastics relate to their families has recently been explored in detail by Clarke (2014: 162), who identifies “privileging of sūtra—and in particular Pāli sutta—over vinaya literature”, in combination with some preconceptions, as a major factor contributing to the construction of a scholarly misconception regarding the nature of Indian Buddhist monasticism.80 Clarke (2014: 153 and 163) therefore advocates that, whereas in his view so far “we have placed all of our eggs in one basket, the Suttapi. taka of the Pāli canon”, instead “we need to go off the sign-posted and well-trodden highways of Buddhist sūtra literature and continue to explore the still largely uncharted terrain of ‘in-house’ monastic codes such as the Mūlasarvāstivāda-vinaya”.

The scholarly misconception he targets is best summarized with an excerpt from the dust jacket of his study:

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79 T 1425 at T XXII 471a26 indicates that the full narration should be supplemented from the discourse version; for another reference to the same discourse cf. T XXII 514b4.

80 Clarke 2014: 17 notes that the misunderstanding he has targeted “cannot be attributed, solely, to the privileging of one type of canonical text over another (i.e., sūtra over vinaya) … rather, I suggest that it stems from selective reading within the corpus of privileged traditions and genres, a selectivity guided by preconceived notions about what Buddhist monasticisms should look like and perhaps also by how they have been put into practice by schools of Buddhism in the modern world.”

“Scholarly and popular consensus has painted a picture of Indian Buddhist monasticism in which monks and nuns severed all ties with their families when they left home for the religious life … This romanticized image is based largely on the ascetic rhetoric of texts such as the Rhinoceros Horn Sutra. Through a study of Indian Buddhist law codes (vinaya), Shayne Clarke dehorns the rhinoceros.”

In the context of the present paper it is of course not possible to do full justice to Clarke’s monograph, which would require a proper review.81 Hence in what follows I only take up what is relevant for my discussion of Vinaya narrative. In relation to the story of the mass suicide of monks, of particular interest to me is the relationship between discourse and Vinaya material, given that this story is found in both genres.

One issue here would be to see how far scholarly misconceptions regarding Indian Buddhist monasticism are indeed related to privileging Pāli discourse material. The best way to go about this would be to see what the Pāli discourses in the four main Nikāyas have to say on family matters.82 Of course, given that discourses have a considerably lower percentage of narrative material when compared to Vinaya, it is impossible to find a similar wealth of tales and stories in both types of literature, especially as detailed background narratives are often found only in the commentaries. Nevertheless, a quick perusal of the Pāli discourses, by no means meant to be exhaustive, does bring to light a few relevant indications.

The Mahāpadāna-sutta of the Dīgha-nikāya acknowledges the importance of family relations in its description of past Buddhas. In addition to reporting the names of the mother and father of each Buddha,83 it also depicts the recently awakened Vipassī deciding to teach first of all his half-brother, the prince Khan. da, . who then became one of his two chief disciples.84

The importance of family relations in a past life of the present Buddha comes to the fore in the Mahāgovinda-sutta, according to which he went forth together with all of his forty wives.85 The discourse concludes with an evaluation of the

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81 I would like to be clear that what follows is not meant to stand in place of a review (for which cf., e.g., Ohnuma 2014) and my discussion is not solely concerned with Clarke’s monograph.

82 In order to explore what the Pāli discourses can offer in this respect, here and below I on purpose do not take up the parallels.

83 DN 14 at DN II 6,31.

84DN 14 at DN II 40,8.

85DN 19 at DN II 249,24; on the family dimension of Gautama Buddha’s going forth cf. also Strong 1997.

practice undertaken by the bodhisattva at that time. This conclusion does not in any way express criticism of the act of going forth together with all of his wives.86

In his present life the Buddha then is on record as approaching his son Rāhula for a visit.87 On other occasions he goes to beg together with his son or goes to meditate together with him.88 According to the Aggañña-sutta, Buddhist monks in general should consider themselves as sons of the Buddha, born from the Buddha’s mouth.89 The imagery of the disciples being the sons of the Buddha recurs again in the Lakkhana-sutta . . 90

The Ra. t. thapāla-sutta shows the monk Ra. t. thapāla intending to visit his family. The Buddha, realizing that it will be impossible for Ra. t. thapāla to be lured back into lay life, gives his explicit permission.91 In conjunction with the other passages surveyed so far, this episode clarifies that there is no problem as such in associating with members of one’s family, as long as this does not compromise essential aspects of one’s monastic role, such as celibacy.

Other passages provide similar indications, if they are read taking into account the background information provided in the commentaries.92 One example is the Cūlavedalla-sutta’s record of a long discussion between the nun Dhammadinnā and the layman Visākha, who according to the commentary was her former husband.93 When the discussion is reported to the Buddha, he lauds Dhammadinnā for her wisdom, without the least censure of her having such a long exchange with her ex-husband.94

The converse can be seen in the Nandakovāda-sutta, which reports that the monk Nandaka was unwilling to take his turn teaching the nuns, who according

.____________________________________________________________ 86 DN 19 at DN II 251,12; the only criticism raised is that due to engaging solely in the practice of the brahmavihāras and not practising the noble eightfold path, his going forth did not lead to full awakening.

87 MN 61 at MN I 414,3.

88 MN 62 at MN I 421,1 and MN 147 at MN III 278,1.

89 DN 27 at DN III 84,21.

90 DN 30 at DN III 162,5; for monks and nuns referring to themselves or being referred to as sons and daughters of the Buddha cf., e.g., Th 174, Th 348, Th 1237, Th 1279, Thī 46, Thī 63, and Thī 336 (not taking into account Th 295, as here such a reference is attributed to the Buddha’s actual son Rāhula).

91 MN 82 at MN II 61,16.

92 Discourse commentary need not invariably reflect a textual stratum later than Vinaya, which contains material of originally commentarial natural that can be considerably later than the rules themselves; for a survey of the historical layers in the Pāli Vinaya cf. von Hinüber 1996/1997: 20.

93 Ps II 355,29.

94 MN 44 at MN I 304,33.

to the commentary had been his wives in former times.95 When informed about this, the Buddha calls Nandaka to his presence and orders him to teach the nuns, whereupon Nandaka goes to the nunnery to fulfil his duty.96 The circumstance that in the Pāli account he approaches the nunnery shows that, from the viewpoint of tradition, this incident should be placed at an early stage in the teaching career of the Buddha, before a rule was promulgated that monks should not approach nunneries to give teachings.97 In other words, this particular episode should be read as reflecting an early stage in the development of Buddhist monasticism.

This much already suffices to paint a picture of the early Buddhist monastic attitude towards family relations that offers no support to the assumption that going forth meant a total severance of all possible interaction with the members of one’s family.98 Such a conclusion is in fact not altogether new. Collins in his introduction to Wijayaratne (1990: xvif) points out that the assumption that a solitary lifestyle was characteristic for an early stage of Indian Buddhist monasticism has been shown by Wijayaratne’s research on the Pāli Vinaya (originally published in 1983 in French) as being merely a myth.

As already noted by several scholars, the very organisation of early Buddhist monasticism was modelled on a republican form of government based on the clan chiefdom, gana. , such as the V. rjis;99 and the “importance of kinship ties in the extension of support to Buddhism” in its early phase has been discussed by Chakravarti (1987/1996: 143–145). According to Wilson (1996: 29), “evidence from every category of Indian Buddhist literature may be found to support the view that the sangha is held together by a variety of pseudofamilial ties. Kinship structures are reduplicated within the sangha in a variety of ways.”

Again, as already noted by Frauwallner (1956: 71), most Vinayas preserve an explicit stipulation according to which a new monk who joins the Buddhist monastic community should look on his preceptor as a “father”, who in turn looks on him as a “son”.100 In this way several scholars have highlighted various as-

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95 Ps V 93,8; for a more detailed discussion cf. Anālayo 2010a: 373.

96 MN 146 at MN III 271,4.

97 Vin IV 56,13.

98 With this I do not intend to underrate the importance given to dwelling in seclusion; cf. in more detail Anālayo 2009 and 2011b.

99 Cf., e.g., Bhagvat 1939: 126f, Barua 1968: 43ff, Thapar 1984: 70ff, and Hazra 1988: 62ff; just to mention a few.

100Dharmaguptaka Vinaya, T 1428 at T XXII 799c4, Mahīśāsaka Vinaya, T 1421 at T XXII 110c26, Sarvāstivāda Vinaya, T 1435 at T XXIII 148b23, and Theravāda Vinaya, Vin I 45,26. To these a stipulation to the same effect in the Mūlasarvāstivāda bhik.sukarmavākya can be added; cf. Banerjee , 1977: 72,16, a passage that has already been highlighted by Cohen 2000: 15. In the words of Cole 2004: 281, the “very effort to leave domesticity was itself domesticized and remade into a Buddhist family”; cf. also Cole 2006: 301, who points out that “the monastic space was regularly organized as something like a patriarchal family that employed the language of fathers and sons to structure discipline, identity, and authority in a way that rendered monastic identity not all that different from those templates constructed within the sphere of the lay family.”

pects of the family dimensions of Indian Buddhist monasticism. The continuing importance of family matters for Buddhist monastics in modern times has been documented in anthropological studies, be these on monastics in Sri Lanka or in the north of India in Zangskar.101

The passages on family matters in the Pāli discourses surveyed so far come alongside recurrent references to departing from the home for homelessness and leaving behind one’s relatives.102 The home that one should leave behind receives a more detailed explanation in a discourse in the Samyutta-nikāya . , according to which this implies leaving behind desire, lust, and craving.103 Once again consulting a Pāli discourse can help to make it clear that the notion of leaving behind one’s home and family was not invariably meant to be taken in the strictly literal sense that one is in principle never allowed to approach the place where one formerly lived. In line with this indication, those who go forth leave behind family and relatives without this implying that they could never ever relate to them as monastics.

Perhaps a simile may be useful at this point for the sake of illustration. Let us assume someone has left her job. Having left her job does not mean she can never again enter her former workplace. She might enter it again, but she would do so as a client or customer. Having left her job also does not mean she will never again have any contact with her former colleagues. She may well have such contacts, even with her former boss. But she will not relate to her ex-boss as an employee

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101 Cf., e.g., Samuels 2010 and Gutschow 2006.

102 The standard description of going forth as part of the gradual path account in the Pāli discourses, cf., e.g., DN 2 at DN I 63,9, indicates that leaving behind a large or small group of relatives one cuts off hair and beard, dons the yellow robes, and goes forth from the household into homelessness.

103 SN 22.3 at SN III 10,8 (which uses the term oka instead of agāra); for a discussion of different nuances of the notion of leaving behind the home cf. Collins 1982: 167–176. Olivelle 1993: 67 explains in relation to the concern with homelessness in ancient Indian recluse circles that “the value system of the vedic world is inverted: wilderness over village, celibacy over marriage, economic inactivity over economic productivity, ritual inactivity over ritual performance, instability over stable residence, inner virtue and experience over outward observance”; cf. also Ashraf 2013.

nor expect to receive a salary. In fact she might dare tell her former boss things she would not have dared to say earlier, when she was still an employee.

I suggest that going forth from the household life as depicted in early Buddhist texts is similar. Those who have left their family homes may still return to visit, but they do so as monastics. They may still meet their family members, who may even go forth together with them, but after having gone forth they relate to each other from the viewpoint of being themselves monastics.

This suggestion finds support in the examples that Clarke has examined in his study. Particularly striking are Vinaya narratives reporting that pregnant women go forth and then, once they have delivered, do not dare to stay in the same room or even touch their own baby boy.104 This runs so much counter to the normative reaction of a mother as to make it clear that, even right after having given birth, they are shown to see themselves as monastics first of all. The stories portray them approaching the situation of having a child from within the prescribed code of conduct of a nun vis-à-vis a male.

What about the solitary lifestyle depicted in the Khaggavisāna-sutta . ? 105 According to the two commentaries on the Sutta-nipāta, the Khaggavisāna-sutta . is a collection of sayings by Pratyekabuddhas.106 The canonical Apadāna and its commentary take the same position.107 A similar understanding can be seen in the Mahāvastu, which introduces its version of several stanzas paralleling the Khaggavisāna-sutta  by indicating that the stanzas were spoken by different Pratyekabuddhas.108  Such an understanding recurs in relation to another parallel stanza found in the Divyāvadāna. 109

Given this agreement between texts from the Lokottaravāda-Mahāsānghika, ˙ the Mūlasarvāstivāda, and the Theravāda traditions, it seems fair to assume that the attribution of these stanzas to Pratyekabuddhas is comparatively early.110

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104 Several such cases are discussed in Clarke 2014: 121–146.

105 The Khaggavisāna-sutta . is found at Sn 35 to 75.

106 Nidd II 83,21 and Pj II 52,11; references already noted by Clarke 2014: 7 and 175 note 42.

107 Ap 7,17 and its commentary Ap-a 129,14.

108 Senart 1882: 357,12, where the stanzas are spoken right before the Pratyekabuddhas enter final Nirvāna. .

109 Cowell and Neil 1886: 294,13; the stanza, counterpart to Sn 36, is here spoken by a Pratyekabuddha after having reached awakening.

110 Norman 1983b: 106 note 70 comments that the parallel in the Mahāvastu “proves that the attribution predates the schism between the Theravadins and the Mahasanghikas.” Salomon 2000: 8f points out that “various Buddhist traditions surrounding the Rhinoceros Sūtra are unanimous, where they say anything about the matter at all, in describing its verses as the inspired utterances (gāthā or udāna) of the pratyeka-buddhas.” “Some doubt exists on the part of modern scholars as to whether this association is historically original to the text or, rather, is a later interpretive imposition”. However, “it is clear that the association of the Rhinoceros Sūtra with the pratyekabuddhas had become widespread, indeed apparently unanimous, at a relatively early period, as confirmed by its attestation in both the Pali and the Sanskrit tradition.”

From the viewpoint of tradition, then, the Khaggavisāna-sutta . was apparently never meant to represent the norm for an ideal Buddhist monasticism. Instead, its purpose was to depict what happens precisely when there is no Buddhist monasticism.111 The few who reach awakening on their own during such a period become Pratyekabuddhas and, in contrast to a Buddha, do not start a monastic community of disciples.112 So the solitary lifestyle eulogized in the Khaggavisāna-sutta . , just as the Mahāsīhanāda-sutta’s depiction of the bodhisattva dwelling in total seclusion from human contact,113 does not seem to be meant to depict normative behaviour to be emulated by Buddhist monastics.      There has been considerable discussion about whether the term khaggavisāna. in the title of the discourse and in the recurrent phrase eko care khaggavisānakappo .

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111 Based on what appears to be an implicit reference to the Buddha in Sn 54, Bronkhorst 1993/2000: 125 argues that “the Khaggavisāna Sutta . must therefore have been composed after, or at the earliest during the preaching of the Buddha. How then could it be thought of as being composed by Pratyekabuddhas?” Sn 54 appears to refer to MN 122 at MN III 110,28, where the Buddha warns Ānanda against excessive socializing. Needless to say, the point of the original passage was not that Ānanda should live an entirely solitary life, which would have left the Buddha without his attendant. Sn 54 might therefore be the result of combining this reference with the refrain eko care khaggavisānakappo . . Such a presumably later addition does not render impossible the assumption that the bulk of the discourse depicts a mode of thought believed to have been pre-Buddhist. The Apadāna, Ap 7,1, in fact explicitly introduces the Buddha as the source of information about the sayings by Pratyekabuddhas reflected in the Khaggavisāna-sutta . . This would be in line with a general attitude in tradition, reflected, e.g., in the Bodhisattvabhūmi, Wogihara 1971: 397,11, and the Cullaniddesa, Nidd II 80,1, according to which the Buddha was able to teach events that took place long ago, based on his own direct knowledge of the past. A to some extent comparable case can be seen in the Mahāpadāna-sutta and its parallels, where the present Buddha gives information about past Buddhas as well as about himself; cf. DN 14 at DN II 2,15, Fukita 2003: 34,9, DĀ 1 at T I 1c19, T 2 at T I 150a17, T 3 at T I 154b9, T 4 at T I 159b11, and EĀ 48.4 at T II 790a27. Here, too, the time when the story is told being the lifetime of the present Buddha, about whom detailed information is given, does not render it impossible for events to be reported by the same speaker that were believed to have taken place in the far distant past.

112 In the words of Ashraf 2013: 29, the motif of the Pratyekabuddha “describes the practice of a monachos, solitary monk, in contrast to the cenobite, who finds his relevance in a community of practitioners.” For a critical reply to the suggestion by Norman 1983b that the term Pratyekabuddha refers to one who awakens because of an external stimulation, pratyaya, instead of standing for one who lives a solitary life without disciples, pratyeka, cf. Anālayo 2010c: 11ff.

113 Cf. above note 50.

illustrates a solitary lifestyle with the example of a rhinoceros or rather of its horn. As far as I can see, the evidence points to the comparison being with the animal itself.114 Whatever may be the final word on the significance of the term khadgavi sāna /khaggavisā . na. , however, the foregoing discussion would have made it clear that there is no need to try to dehorn the rhinoceros, since neither the horn nor the whole animal poses a problem.

For correcting the mistaken notion that a solitary lifestyle of the type depicted in the Khaggavisāna-sutta . was normative for Indian Buddhist monasticism, the

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114 Taking the imagery to be about the horn would have the support of the commentaries; cf. Nidd II 129,13, Pj II 65,10, and also Ap-a 133,32. Hare 1945/1947: 11 note 2 comments that the idea of the single horn of the Indian rhinoceros would convey its “being contrasted no doubt with the two horns of other animals”. This imagery comes alive in the description of the Indian rhinoceros by Megasthenes in McCrindle 1877: 59, according to which “a horn sprouts out from between its eyebrows, and this is not straight, but curved into the most natural wreaths.” Contrary to the commentarial explanation, however, according to Edgerton 1953/1998: 202 s.v. khadga-vi . . sāna. , the term “means rhinoceros, = Skt. khadgin, originally . having a sword(-like) horn. The comparison is to the animal, not to its horn.” Yet, Norman 1996/2001: 38 points out that in the Jain Kalpa-sūtra the comparison is to the horn of a rhinoceros. In reply, Salomon 2000: 11 comments that “when we look further afield, in the Buddhist Sanskrit tradition, the answer seems to be exactly the opposite”, that is, there is considerable support for the image being concerned with the rhinoceros itself. In addition to this, as noted already by Jayawickrama 1949/1977: 22, “in other places in the Pāli Canon the idea of wandering alone is compared with the movements of animals of solitary habits rather than with parts of their anatomy”, for which he provides several examples. To this Salomon 2000: 12 adds that a stanza in the Gāndhārī parallel to the Khaggavisāna-sutta . speaks instead of a solitary elephant, where “the reference can only be to the solitary habits of the bull elephant.” Regarding animal habits, Saddhatissa 1985: 8 note 1 refers to the “gregarious nature of the Indian species, called Rhinoceros unicornis”, in support of the interpretation that opts for the horn. But, as pointed out by Jamison 1998: 253, based on quoting authorities on zoology, the rhinoceros is indeed a solitary animal; thus “the rootcar ‘wander’ is particularly appropriate to the seasonal behavior of the rhinoceros, who seems almost to conduct himself like a roaming mendicant.” Schmithausen 1999: 233 note 13 points out that in the Khaggavisāna-sutta . the image serves to illustrate the activity of carati, which would support an interpretation of it as referring to a rhinoceros; cf. also Wright 2001: 4, who notes that “the verb care shows that the idea of solitary perambulation is paramount.” That the image is indeed about a solitary habit finds further support in the observation by Caillat 2003: 38 that, judging from Jain texts, it seems preferable “to retain the full meaning of the substantive kappa, kalpa, ‘usage, practice’ … thus, for khadga-visānakalpa . , ‘following the habits of the rhinoceros’” (in contrast to the commentarial understanding, which takes kappa to stand for sadisa, “like”). Although the situation may have seemed ambivalent by the time of Jones 1949/1973: 250 note 1 and even Kloppenborg 1974: 60, who takes both interpretations as being valid, to my mind by now the contributions that have been made by various scholars render the situation fairly conclusive, in that the original idea would have been to illustrate a solitary lifestyle with the habits of a rhinoceros, the idea of the single horn gaining prominence as a secondary development.

potential of reading the Pāli discourses could be put to the test again. A standard phrase found repeatedly at the outset of a Pāli discourse shows the Buddha in the company of 500 monks.115 While the number is of course stereotypical, there can be little doubt that it portrays a substantial group of monks living and travelling together with the Buddha. A discourse in the Anguttara-nikāya ˙ even goes so far as to report that the Buddha stopped one of his monks from going off into seclusion, recommending he should better stay with the community of monks.116 This much already suffices to show, again, that recourse to the Pāli discourses themselves can help to rectify the notion that monastics are invariably expected to live a solitary life.

6) Reading Vinaya Material

The relevance of reading Pāli discourse literature alongside Vinaya material for exploring topics like family matters can be seen with another discourse in the Anguttara-nikāya ˙ . The discourse reports that a mother and her son had both gone forth and were spending the rainy season retreat together, visiting each other often. Eventually they engaged in sexual intercourse with each other.117 This story not only shows that it was in principle possible for mother and son to go forth together, but also for them to meet regularly and this evidently in rather private circumstances. A problem arises only once this leads to sex, aggravated in the present instance by being incest.

The incest story in the Anguttara-nikāya ˙ clearly shows that discourse literature can contain material that is rather compromising. The same holds for the mass suicide of monks, where a narrative with a considerable potential to be damaging to the reputation of the Buddha as a teacher is not confined to the Vinayas.118 Here the discourse material is as revealing as the Vinaya texts, both reporting that a recommendation given by the Buddha on a meditation topic led to

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115 For a discussion of variations in the standard number of monks accompanying the Buddha cf. Anālayo 2011a: 417–419.

116 AN 10.99 at AN V 209,15.

117 AN 5.55 at AN III 67,24; cf. also the discussion in Silk 2009: 126–128.

118 Even for it to be recorded in the Vinaya is remarkable. Mills 1992: 74 comments that “it is strange that a story like this, which does no credit to the Buddha, but quite the opposite, was permitted to remain in the Vinaya … if the story is partly true, it would hardly reflect well on the Buddha, while if the whole story is true he appears in a worse light still.”

a mass suicide among his disciples.119 A case of incest among Buddhist monastics is similarly problematic. Both tales should be found only in “in-house” literature, if a clear dividing line between material for public display and in-house documentation had indeed been a concern informing the formation of the Buddhist textual collections. This is clearly not the case.

The evidently complementary nature of discourse and Vinaya material makes it in my view indispensable that a proper appreciation of individual tales (like the mass suicide of monks) or Indian Buddhist monasticism in general is based on reading Vinaya stories in conjunction with what early discourse material has to offer. In contrast, relying only on Vinaya texts would be like trying to reconstruct the history of a particular country or time period solely based on criminal records. It does not need much imagination to envision a rather distorted picture emerging from using solely such material.

Vinaya tales have their origin in something that went wrong. They need to be contextualized. Using only Vinaya texts to reconstruct the history of Indian monasticism would be even worse than relying only on criminal records, since such records can be expected to be based on actual events. In contrast, Vinaya narratives feature misbehaving monastics side by side with celestial beings, demons, and animals able to speak. Such narratives tell us a lot about the views and beliefs held by those responsible for their coming into being, but circumspection is required when they are used as a basis for reconstructing the actual situation on the ground.

   Vinaya passages referring to nuns running brothels, for example, need not invariably be reflecting actual conditions. In view of the general Indian perception

.____________________________________________________________ 119 The tale of the mass suicide is also of interest in relation to the proposition in Clarke 2014: 17 that “where as sūtras go into lengthy discourses on the value of meditation, for instance, Schopen has shown that Buddhist monastic law codes warn against rigorous engagement in contemplative exercises” (reference is to Schopen 2004: 26). In the present case the dangers of improper meditation practice are indeed highlighted, but this occurs together with drawing attention to the advantages of proper practice of mindfulness of breathing. Here the dangers and advantages of meditation practice are taken up both in discourse and Vinaya literature. In the case of the Mūlasarvāstivāda Vinaya, just to give one other example, Hu-von Hinüber 2014: 89 notes that instructions on examining the anatomical parts of the body occur as part of “a long passage about different matters concerning the meditation” on aśubha, in what she considers an attempt “to impart all of the basic knowledge [of] what a monk needs to practice his daily life in the Samgha.” Here the purpose . is clearly to encourage meditation—precisely the meditation that the tale of the mass suicide of monks shows to be problematic—not to warn against it.

of renunciant women as being on a par with prostitutes,120 it is in principle possible that the idea of nuns running brothels could have arisen in an environment antagonistic to Buddhist monastics.121 Once having become a popular perception, this could then have motivated the drawing up of rules to safeguard reputation, even without it needing to have actually happened.122

This is of course not to say that it is in principle impossible for something like this to have taken place, but only to point out that the implications of the existence of such a rule require evaluation. A decisive criterion when evaluating such stories is to my mind a principle espoused by Clarke (2014: 166), according to which all of the extant Vinayas need to be consulted. In his own words: “any vinaya cannot be accepted as representative of Indian Buddhist monasticisms without first fully examining the other five monastic law codes; we must marshal all available evidence in rereading Indian Buddhist monasticisms.”123 Given that references to nuns running brothels do not seem to appear in all Vinayas,124 the possibility that these references have come into being as the product of imagination has to be seriously taken into consideration. Had this been a real problem during the

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120 Olivelle 2004: 499 notes that in the Manusm. rti “there are women of certain groups … who are stereotyped as being sexually promiscuous”, one of them being “female wandering ascetics”. Similarly, a commentary on the Manusm. rti, quoted in Jyväsjärvi 2007: 80, defines females who have become homeless as “women without protectors … [who], being lustful women, are disguised in the dress (of ascetics).”

121 The suggestion in Clarke 2014: 35 that the occurrence of certain narrative motifs in Sanskrit drama and other Indian literature antagonistic to Buddhism can serve to corroborate that descriptions of misbehaviour in Vinaya narratives are based on historical facts is therefore to my mind not conclusive.

122 Horner 1938/1982: xxi notes that Vinaya narratives at times give the impression “that these are the outcome, not of events, so much as of lengthy and anxious deliberations. The recensionists had a responsible task. They were legislating for the future.” Therefore quite possibly “at the time of the final recension, each rule was minutely scrutinised and analysed, and all the deviations from it, of which the recensionists had heard or which they could imagine, were formulated and added.”

123 As a side note, it seems to me that doing full justice to this important principle would stand in contrast to the suggestion by Clarke 2009 that breach of a pārājika rule may only result in loss of communion with a particular local community, given that this suggestion is based on a story found only in a single Vinaya. In general terms, as indicated by Kieffer-Pülz 2014: 62, by now “general statements on the basis of only one Vinaya should belong to the past.” Moreover, as I already argued in Anālayo 2012a: 418f note 42, even the assumption that this single story has implications on the nature of pārājika rules is rather doubtful; cf. also above note 55 and below note 125.

124 Judging from the survey in Clarke 2014: 228 note 63, the brothel motif is only found in some Vinayas.

early stages of Indian Buddhist monasticism, we would expect all of the Vinayas to try to tackle it.

Regarding Indian Buddhist monasticism in general, based on his study of family matters in Vinaya literature Clarke (2014: 155) comes to the conclusion that “mainstream Buddhism itself is starting to look surprisingly and increasingly like what we see in later Mahāyāna Buddhism in Nepal, for instance.” In my view this is not an accurate reflection of the material he has studied, as it does not reflect the difference between monastics who relate to their former partners as monastics and priests who actually live a family life. Moreover, it fails to distinguish between what the texts present as exceptional in contrast to common behaviour.125

The cases Clarke has surveyed in his study all fall under the first category of monastics relating to their former partners as monastics. When those who go forth need not obtain a legal divorce, in keeping with ancient Indian customs, then this does not imply that their marriage will not be considered on a practical level as having come to an end. Once former husband and wife relate to each other as monastics and are no longer permitted to have sex with each other, this does amount to a substantial difference from the married priests of Newar Buddhism in Nepal.126 In sum, Clarke’s conclusion is an example of a tendency where, in the

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125 In relation to the discussion by Clarke 2014: 47–56 of the tales of Dharmadinnā and Sudinna as evidence for monastics living with their families, Ohnuma 2014: 2 queries, in relation to Sudinna, “shouldn’t his behavior be seen as a precedent-setting example of everything that a monastic should not do, and thereby as a highly unusual case?” Thus “making some distinction—no matter how speculative—between those familial practices that were truly ordinary and those that were highly unusual” seems to be required. Besides, “Clarke also fails to consider the negative evidence: If the practice of monastics living at home were anything other than highly unusual, wouldn’t the vinayas contain legal procedures for how to deal with such monastics and legislate their proper roles within the monastic community? And if such rules are lacking, shouldn’t we conclude that the cases of Sudinna and Dharmadinnā were, in fact, fairly unusual and lacked the taken-for-granted quality of occasional visits home?” Regarding the story of Dharmadinnā found in the Mūlasarvāstivāda Vinaya’s account of ordination by messenger, it seems to me that Clarke’s presentation is beset by the same methodological problem as his reasoning regarding the nature of pārājika rules (cf. above note 123), where he also bases far-reaching conclusions on a story found only in the Mūlasarvāstivāda Vinaya. In the present case the accounts of ordination by messenger in the parallel versions, listed in Clarke 2014: 190 note 37, have completely different narratives. Yet, as formulated by Clarke 2014: 18 himself, when studying Vinaya narrative we should “ensure that what we see is not just an isolated viewpoint of a single tradition, but is broadly representative of the canonical jurists’ handling … in all extant vinayas.”

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126 Gellner 1989: 6 explains that “the role of part-time Buddhist monk within the institutional framework of Newar Buddhism is restricted to [the sacerdotal caste of the] Śākyas and Vajrācāryas. The role of the permanent, and permanently celibate, monk or nun is open neither to them norto any other Newar … the traditional institutions of Newar Buddhism provide for no such role”; cf. also Gellner 1992: 59: “Vajrācāryas and Śākyas are, then, householder Buddhist monks.” Allen 1973: 11 even speaks of “the radical anti-celibacy of the form of Buddhism” found in Nepal. As explained by von Rospatt (forthcoming), “though assuming monkhood only ritually for a few days, they maintain their monastic identity even after disrobing. Thus Newar Buddhism is not a ‘Buddhism without monks,’ as some observers have held, but a Buddhism with monks who have turned householders without giving up their identity as monastics”; cf. also Lienhard 1999 and von Rospatt 2005. I fail to see how mainstream Indian Buddhist monasticism could be considered as resembling such descriptions. With this I do not in any way intend to encourage an evaluation of Newar Buddhism as a degeneration, but only to clarify that it does differ substantially from what available sources allow us to know about mainstream Indian Buddhist monasticism.

words of Ohnuma (2014: 3), he “occasionally overstates his case.”

This to my mind corroborates that excessive emphasis on misdeeds reported in Vinaya texts can lead to painting a distorted picture. The same holds for the mass suicide of monks. The story does make it unmistakeably clear that the early generations of reciters did not yet conceive of the Buddha as an infallible and omniscient teacher. At the same time, however, the tale needs to be considered alongside records of the Buddha’s successful teaching activities found elsewhere, that is, it needs to be contextualized in order to avoid arriving at a distorted picture of the Buddha’s role as a teacher. Only such contextualization within the whole extant textual corpus, in combination with taking into account the ancient Indian setting, enables a proper appreciation of this and other Vinaya tales.

Conclusion

Understanding the tale of the mass suicide of monks requires taking into account the ascetic environment within which early Buddhism evolved. The tale itself depicts a recommendation given by the Buddha being put to use without proper instructions. The resultant mass suicide reflects the influence of a prevalent negative attitude towards the body and the tolerance of suicide in ancient Indian ascetic circles. In a Vinaya teaching context, this tale would have evolved in line with its function to demarcate Buddhist monastic identity in contrast to contemporary ascetic values by showing how things can go wrong.

The occurrence of the mass suicide tale among the discourses shows that problematic narratives were not allocated to Vinaya texts only, making it improbable that these offer us the only window available for in-house information on what took place on the ground. Instead, Vinaya narratives need to be read with a clear recognition of their teaching purposes and of the fact that they are naturally concerned with what went wrong, instead of giving us a complete picture of Indian Buddhist monasticism as a whole. They reflect views and opinions held by those responsible for the final shape of the passages in question, which result from a range of influences, historical events being only one of them.

Addendum

By Richard Gombrich

In the Pun. novāda sutta . , MN sutta 145, the Buddha and the monk Pun. na are . discussing the latter’s intention to become a missionary in a remote region called Sunāparantaka, where they consider that that people may well react to him with active hostility. They consider a series of possible reactions in ascending order of violence, culminating in the possibility that they will kill him. What, asks the Buddha, does Pun. na think of that? .

He replies that sometimes people feel such self-disgust that they satthahārakam pariyesanti . : “they look for a sattha-hārakam. .” He goes on: Tam me ida . m. apariyittham. 127 yeva sattha-hārakam laddha . m. . This means: “So I have acquired this satthahārakam. without even looking for it.” The grammar of this sentence is crucial to how we can translate sattha-hārakam. . It has to be the grammatical subject of the sentence, and the neuter pronoun idam. agrees with it. So it is neuter, in fact neuter singular, and cannot refer to a person. It must mean “thing which takes away life”.

The pada-van. nanā . (word commentary) at Vin III 73, glossing the word, has given 8 examples of such things, including poison and a rope. The word occurs in several places, as Anālayo reports, and it would be tedious to list all the wrong translations of it which have been published. They seem to have been influenced by the fact that there is a word sattha (< Sanskrit śastra) meaning a cutting weapon, e.g. a knife or dagger. This however is not that word, but a homonym of it. Though it is not in the PED, sattha can mean, if we interpret it as the p.p.p. of Sanskrit √śvas, “[the breath of] life”, a synonym of pāna. . Hāraka means “taking away”.

127  There is a variant reading apariyi. t. tham. ; this makes no difference at all.

This is not the place to take my own analysis of the story much further, but I shall indicate the direction of my thoughts. I have always admired the dictum of Dr Samuel Johnson, who said, “Sir, I get the Latin from the meaning, not the meaning from the Latin.” In the present case, this means that I start from the observation that the whole story which introduces the third pārājika offense with the story of the mass suicide of monks is totally absurd and must owe its form to some misunderstanding – a misunderstanding which I think we can dimly discern.

Why is it absurd? I can easily suggest four reasons.

We know that Roman warriors sometimes committed suicide by getting someone to hold a sword onto which they threw themselves; Japanese warriors (samurai) had almost the same custom; but is there any other trace of this custom, or any similar form of assisted suicide, in India?

If that is not enough, does this story not conflict with other major features of what we know of early Buddhism? How come that so spectacular an event is never mentioned outside this immediate context, either in the Buddhist texts or in the polemics of non-Buddhist religious literature? It is as if even the Buddhists themselves did not believe this story.

And well might they not so believe! Buddhists knew that if one killed oneself, one would not escape from corporeal existence but be reborn in another body – but probably in worse circumstances, because one had died by self-inflicted violence.

Finally, as Anālayo points out in his article, the story reflects amazingly badly on the Buddha: not only does it impugn his omniscience, but something far worse: it shows him guilty of the most shocking misjudgment, failing to foresee the effect of his own preaching. Anālayo mentions this, most pointedly in note 118 and the related text in this article, but goes no further than calling it “remarkable”. Yet is any comparable episode to this recorded elsewhere?

None of this is in disagreement with Anālayo’s analysis of the function that this story was intended to have. It survives in several versions, and this alone shows that it did serve a purpose in training monastics and setting a limit to permissible asceticism. My intention is merely to dig deeper and suggest how so grotesque and unrealistic a fable came about.

Abbreviations

AN Anguttara-nikāya

Ap Apadāna

Ap-a Apadāna-a. t. thakathā

B e Burmese edition

C e Ceylonese edition

D Derge edition

DĀ Dīrgha-āgama

DN Dīgha-nikāya

EĀ Ekottarika-āgama (T 125)

Jā Jātaka

MĀ Madhyama-āgama (T 26)

Mil Milindapañha

MN Majjhima-nikāya

Nidd II Cullaniddesa

Pj II Paramatthajotikā

Ps Papañcasūdanī

Q Peking edition

SĀ Samyukta-āgama . (T 99)

SĀ2 Samyukta-āgama . (T 100)

SN Samyutta-nikāya .

Sn Sutta-nipāta

Sp Samantapāsādikā

Spk Sāratthappakāsinī

T Taishō edition

Th Theragāthā

Thī Therīgāthā

Vin Vinayapi. taka

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H.E. Khandro Rinpoche: The meaning of taking refuge

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THE STUDY OF SANSKRIT IN RELATION TO CHRISTIAN MISSIONARY WORK IN INDIA.

THE

STUDY OF SANSKRIT

IN RELATION TO

CHRISTIAN MISSIONARY WORK

IN INDIA.

AN INAUGURAL LECTURE DELIVERED BEFORE THE UNIVERSITY OF OXFORD,

ON APRIL 19, 1861.

BY  SIR MONIER-WILLIAMS, M.A.

OF UNIVERSITY COLLEGE, OXFORD.

BODEN PROFESSOR OF SANSKRIT, ETC.

WITH NOTES 

The following Lecture is printed almost word for word as it was delivered, but the Notes have been added since; and I feel it right to acknowledge my obligation to the Rev. J. Wenger (a learned missionary, lately arrived from Calcutta, where he has laboured for upwards of 20 years) and to the Rev. T. Foulkes (who has devoted himself to the missionary work for many years in the Madras Presidency), for having revised the proof-sheets and favoured me with suggestions.

 

India is of all the possessions of Great Britain the most interesting, and presents the most inviting prospect to the missionary. He has there no common country or people to deal with, no ordinary religion. He is not there brought in contact with savage tribes who melt away before the superior force and intelligence of Europeans. He is placed in the midst of a great and ancient people, who, many of them tracing back their origin to the same stock as ourselves, attained a high degree of civilization when our forefathers were barbarians, and had a polished language and literature when English was unknown.

The population of India is variously reckoned at 150 and 200 millions*. It will not be supposed that such an immense assemblage of beings forms one people. India is almost a continent like Europe, and from the earliest times has attracted various and successive immigrants and invaders, Asiatic and European. Its inhabitants differ as much as the various continental races, and speak languages equally distinct. We have first the aboriginal tribes, who

* It may be estimated at 180 million without fear of serious exaggeration.

are thought to be of Scythian origin, and who, migrating from the steppes of Tartary, entered India by successive incursions*. Such of these primitive races as did not coalesce with the Hindús are still to be traced in the hills and mountain fastnesses. They are called in ancient Sanskrit works, Mlechchhas, Dasyus, Nishádas, &c.; and are now identified with the Gonds of central India, the Bheels inhabiting the hills to the west of the Gonds, the Khonds (or Kus) occupying the eastern districts of Gondwána and the ranges south of Orissa, the Sanatháls and Koles in the hills to the west of Bengal, the Khásias and Garrows on the eastern border, and various other tribes in the south. They have little in common with each other, and speak dialects mostly unintelligible to the more civilized races of India.

* From the name Scythian, given to these various tribes, it need not be inferred that there is any close affinity between them, or that they entered India simultaneously. Scythian is a convenient term widely applicable to all wandering tribes migrating from central Asia who may have found their way into India, either by the Panjáb on the west, or by Asam on the north-east, at various times previously to the Aryan immigration, or even subsequently. It is not impossible that incursions of wild tribes from Chinese Tartary and Tibet into Bengal through those north-eastern mountain-passes which mark the course of the river Brahmaputra, may have taken place since the Muhammadan invasions.

+ Dr. Caldwell considers that the Drávidians of the south were the first inhabitants of India, and that they were driven south-wards by pre-Áryan Scythian invaders, who were afterwards subdued by the Áryas. In all probability the Drávidians represent the earliest and most powerful of the Scythian immigrants. The rude dialects of the more southern hill-tribes are considered by Dr. Caldwell to be connected with the cultivated Dravidian (or South-Indian) tongues, that is, to belong to the same Scythian stock as Telugu, Tamil, Kanarese, and Malayálam. He shews this particularly in the case of the Tuda, Kota (two dialects of the Nilgerry hills), Gond. and Khond (or Ku). The Ramúsies and the majority of the Korawars speak a patois of Telugu. The Male-arasars (‘hill-kings’), inhabiting the southern Ghauts, speak

Then we have the great Hindú race, originally members of that primeval family, who called themselves Áryas or noblemen, and spoke a language, the common source of Latin, Greek, and Sanskṛit. Starting at different periods from their home in central Asia, they separated into distinct nationalities, and peopled Europe, Persia, and India. The Indo -Áryas, after detaching themselves from the Persian branch of this family, settled in the Panjáb and near the sacred Saraswatí, the Holy Land of the Hindús. Thence by successive invasions they overran the plains of the Ganges, and spread themselves gradually over the whole peninsula, coalescing in many places with the primitive inhabitants, and driving all who declined amalgamating with them to the south or towards the hills .

It was thus that the fusion of the Áryas with the Scythian tribes gave rise to the Hindú race, which constitutes the mass of India’s population. It was thus, too, that the blending of the Áryan Sanskṛit with the various Scythian dialects gave rise to the Hindú dialects now current in India.

Next to the Hindús, but with a long interval, came the Parsís, This small tribe of Persians (even now less than half a million in number) were expelled from their native land by the conquering Muhammadans under the Khalíf Omar. Adhering to the ancient religion of Persia (the worship,that is, of the Supreme Being under the symbol of fire),

corrupt Malayálam in the northern part of the range, and corrupt Tamil in the southern. The Lámbádies, or gypsies of the Peninsula, speak a dialect of Hindústani. Among the southern tribes are included the Vedars, a wild race who also inhabit the forests of Ceylon. They eke out a wretched subsistence by killing birds and beasts with bows and arrows.

and bringing with them the records of their faith, the Zand-Avastá of their prophet Zoroaster, they settled down in the neighborhood of Surat about 1100 years ago, and became great merchants and shipbuilders*. For two or three centuries we know little of their history. Like the Indo-Armenians ǂ, they never multiplied to any extent or coalesced with the Hindú population,

* The Parsees, though driven from their native land in the 7th century, did not arrive in India till the 8th. They appear to have settled first at Yezd, in eastern Persia, where a considerable number of them still remain. According to Professor Hang of Poona College, the Indian Parsees do not exceed 150,000 in number. He says that the Zand-Avastá is a collection of fragments written in two dialects, neither of which is generally understood by the present Parsees. Very little of this collection is supposed to be the work of Zoroaster himself. It is divided into five portions, called Gáthás or songs, the metres of which resemble those of the Veda. The name of Zoroaster (Zarathustra) is said to be the same as the Vedic Jaradashti. It is clear that the Hindú and Zoroastrian systems were derived from the same source. Fire and the sun are equally venerated in both; but Zoroaster taught that the Supreme Being created two inferior beings,—Ormuzd the spirit of good, and Ahriman the spirit of evil, the former of whom will destroy the latter. This dualistic principle is foreign to the Veda.

+ The Armenians of India hold a position something like that of the Parsees, but they are more scattered, and keep up more communication with their native country through the port of Bushire at the head of the Persian Gulf. There are often fresh arrivals; but many families have been in India for centuries, and these are dark in complexion. Like the Parsees, they are frequently merchants, and in some of the principal towns great bankers, but as their religion is Christian, they generally imitate the European dress. They may be called the Jews, or rather Quakers, of the Eastern Church: for, though scattered in all directions, they hang- very much together and support each other. At Calcutta they have a large church and flourishing grammar-school. Their native country is the region which encircles Ararat, part belonging to Russia, part to Turkey, and part to Persia. They were converted to Christianity about the 4th century, and their sacred books are written in the ancient Armenian. Of the two more modern dialects, that spoken S. E. of Ararat by the Persia-Armeniaus is the one prevalent among the Indo-Armenians.

and are so insignificant in numbers that they would hardly deserve notice were it not for their busy active habits, in which they emulate Europeans.

Then came the Muhammadans (Arabs, Afgháns, Moguls, and Persians), who entered India at different times*. Though they now form about one-seventh of the entire population,

* Muhammad’s successors, after occupying Damascus for about 100 years, fixed their capital at Baghdad in 750, and thence their power extended into Afghánistán. The Arabs, however, never obtained more than a temporary footing in India. Under the Khalíf Walid I, in 711, Muhammad Kásim was sent at the head of an army into Sinde, hut the Moslems were expelled in 750.; and for two centuries and a half India was left unmolested by invaders from the west. About the year 950, when the power of the Arabs began to decline in Asia, hardy tribes of Tartars, known by the name of Turks (not the Ottoman tribe which afterwards gained a footing in Europe, but hordes from the Altai mountains), were employed by the Khalífs to infuse vigour into their effeminate armies. These tribes became Muhammadans, and gradually took the power into their own hands. In the province of Afghánistán, Sabaktagín, once a mere Turkish slave, usurped the government. His son Mahmúd founded an empire at Ghazní in Afghánistán, and made his first of thirteen incursions into India in the year 1000. During the 13th century the Mongol or Mogol hordes, under the celebrated Jangíz Khán, overthrew the Turkish or Tartar tribes : and in 1398 Timur, uniting Tartars and Mongols into one army, made his well- known invasion of India. After desolating the country he retired, but the sixth in descent from him, Haber, obtained possession of Afghánistán, and thence invading India about 1526, founded the Mogul empire, which his grandson Akbar established on a firm basis in 1556. The power of the Moguls, which rapidly increased under Akbar, Jahángír, and Sháhjahán, until it culminated under Aurangzíb, began to decline under Sháh-Alam (Bahádur Sháh), Jahándár Sháh, and Farrukh-siyar; and under Muhammad Sháh, the fourth from Aurangzíb, took place the Persian invasion of Afghánistán and thence of India, undertaken by Nadir Shah (A. D. 1738) to avenge on the Afghans their inroads into Persia Hence it appears that in all eases the Muhammadan invaders of India came through Afghánistán, and generally settled there before proceeding to conquer the Hindús. On this account, and from the proximity of Afghánistán, it has followed that the greater number of Muhammadan immigrants have been of Afghán blood.

the great majority of them are supposed to be the descendants of Hindús converted to Islám *. Politically they became supreme, but were never able to supplant the Hindús, as these had done the aboriginal inhabitants. Their compulsory proselytism ǂ led to the retention of Hindú habits and customs by the Musalmán converts. It was, moreover, the policy of the Muhammadan conquerors to bend, in many points, to the prejudices of their Indian subjects. Hence the Moslems of India became partially Hindúised, and in language, habits, and character took from the Hindús more than they imparted ǂ.

Nor has the Hindú or Sanskṛit-speaking element lost its ascendancy in India, notwithstanding the accession and admixture of European ingredients. The Portuguese, the Dutch, the Danes, the French have one after the other had a footing on its shores, and their influence still lingers at isolated points §. Last of all the English

* In eastern Bengal, about Dacca, there are more Muhammadans than in any other part of India. It seems at first sight curious that in the neighbourhood of Delhi the proportion should be less, but the people are there more spirited and independent, while in Bengal and the south of India the Muhammadans are principally converts.

ǂ One great distinction between the religion of the Muhammadans and Hindús is, that the former is ever seeking converts, the latter cannot proselytize if it would. A Bráhman is born, not made.

ǂ ǂ Hence it happens that the lower orders of Indian Muhammadans observe distinctions of caste almost as strictly as the Hindús. Many of them will eat and drink together, but not intermarry.

§ The Portuguese still hold three places in India, Hz. Goa, Damán, and the island of Diu on the western coast. The Dutch once held Chinsura on the right bank of the Hooghly, and Negapatam on the coast of Tanjore;

have overrun the whole country, and at this moment our political supremacy is every where greater than that which once belonged to the Musalmáns**. Yet the mass of the population is still essentially Hindú, and the moral influence of the Sanskṛitic race is still paramount. Were they

but about the year 1824 they made both over to us, receiving in return our possessions on the coast of Sumatra. Our cession of the coast of Sumatra was afterwards considered a blunder, to remedy which the formal transfer of Singapore to the British was effected in 1824 by Sir Stamford Raffles (a treaty being made with the neighboring Sultan) as an intermediate port for our trade with China. The Danes once possessed Trauquebar and Serampore, both of which were purchased from them by us in 1844. In 1846 they ceded a small factory to us at Balasore, where the Portuguese also, as well as the Dutch, held possessions in the early periods of European intercourse. The French still retain Pondicherry and Karical on the Coromandel coast, Chandernagore on the right bank of the Hooghly, and Mahé on the Malabar coast.

** The corporation entitled “ Governors and Company of London Merchants trading to the East Indies” was formed in 1600,  The first Court of Directors was held on the 23d September 1600, and the first charter was dated by Queen Elizabeth on the 31st of December in that year. The first factory was built at Surat, near the mouth of the Tapty, north of Bombay, in 1613. In1661 the island of Bombay was ceded to the British by Portugal, as the marriage portion of the infanta Catharine, on her marriage with Charles II, but its final possession was withhold for four years. It was handed over by Charles to the East India Company in 1669. Here is a Muhammadan historian’s account of the first settlement of the English in India : “In the year 1020 (A. D. 1611) the Emperor of Delhi, Jahángír, the son of king Akbar, granted a spot to the English to build a factory in the city of Surat, in the province of Guzerat, which is the first settlement that people made on the shores of Hindústán. The English have a separate king, independent of the king of Portugal, to whom they owe no allegiance ; but, on the contrary, these two nations put each other to death wheresoever they meet. At present, in consequence of the interference of the Emperor Jahangir, they are at peace with each other, though God only knows how long they will consent to have factories in the same town, and to live in terms of amity and friendship.” (Quoted by Mr. George Campbell in his “ Modern India,” p. 23.)

a nation at unity among themselves, no foreign power could withstand their united will. But they are not one people. The Hindús of different provinces (meaning of course all who profess the Hindú religion) differ as much as English, French, and Italians. There is the spirited Hindústání, the martial Sikh, the ambitious Maráthí, the proud Rájput, the hardy Gorkha*, the calculating Bengálí, the busy Telugu, the active Tamil, the poor submissive Pariah of Madras.

1. Many causes have combined to produce these distinctions. Difference of climate has had its effect in diversifying character. Contact with the aboriginal races and with Muhammadans and Europeans has operated differently in different parts of India. Even in districts where the Hindús are called by one name and speak one dialect they are broken up into separate communities, divided from each other by barriers more difficult to pass than those which mark the social distinctions of Europe. This separation constitutes, in point of fact, the very essence of their religion. The Hindús, be it remembered, are a people with strong religious feelings, whether by religion is meant passive reliance on a Superior Being, or dependence on ceremonial forms and observances;

* The word Gorkha (sometimes spelt and pronounced Goorkah) is a contraction of the Sanskṛit Go-raksha ‘ cow-keeper.’ The aborigines of Nepál are mostly of the Bhot or Tibetan family, but tribes of Hindús from the adjacent low-lands of Oude immigrated into this mountainous region at different periods within the memory of tradition, and obtained the sovereignty of the country. “ The ancestors of the Gorkhas were not improbably of the cow-herd caste from the district below the hills, known as Gorakhpúr. The tutelary deity of Nepál is a form of Śiva, denominated Gorakhnath, whose priests are Yogís, and the same sect and worship had formerly equal predominance at Gorakhpúr.” Asiatic Researches. Vol. XVII. p. 189.

and there are two noteworthy peculiarities in their religion;—one is its intimate connexion with social or caste-distinctions, and the other its comprehensiveness and spirit of almost universal toleration, admitting, as it does, of every variety of opinion between an unthinking surrender of reason and its complete independence. Hoping then to make clear, 1st, the causes of disunion among the Hindús, and, secondly, the importance of the study of Sanskṛit as the one connecting link between all varieties of opinion, I proceed to direct attention to both these peculiarities.

First, as to the connexion between religion and caste *. The growth of the Indian caste-system is perhaps the most remarkable feature in the history of this extraordinary people. Caste as a social institution, meaning thereby conventional rules which define the grades of society, exists of course in all countries. In England, caste, in this sense, exerts no slight authority, marking out society into distinct circles. But with us caste is not a religious institution. On the contrary, our religion, though it permits differences of rank, teaches us that such differences are to be laid aside in religious worship, and that in God’s sight all men are equal. Very different is the caste of the Hindús. The Hindú believes that the Deity regards men as unequal, that he created distinct kinds of men,

* The word caste is derived from the Portuguese casta, meaning ‘race,’ ‘species.’ The native word for caste in common use at present is ját (Sanskṛit játi, derived from the root jan), properly meaning ‘parentage.’ The word varṇa ‘colour, which doubtless had reference to ‘complexion,’ is usually restricted to the four ancient castes of Manu’s time.

as he created varieties of birds or beasts:that Bráhmans and Śúdras are as naturally distinct as eagles and crows, or as lions and dogs; and that to force any Hindú to break the rules of caste is to force him to sin against God, and against nature. It is true, that the endless rules of caste in India hinge upon three principal points,—1. food and its preparation *, 2. intermarriage, and 3. professional pursuits; but among a religious people who make these points the very essence of their religion, an offence against any one of them becomes the most enormous of crimes. In England, the nobleman who eats with the peasant, or marries into a family one degree beneath himself, or engages in occupations inconsistent with his rank, is not necessarily shunned, if his moral character remain unimpeached; but in India, if a Brahman do these things, his own peers have no choice but to cast him out, and ignore his very existence. As God created him a Bráhman, so when by an offence against nature he ceases to be a Bráhman, he cannot be re-bráhmanised. As far as his own social circle is concerned, he becomes like one dead or worse than dead: for when he really dies, his nearest relations refuse to touch his body or

The preparation of food is quite as vital a point as eating together. Food prepared by a person of inferior caste causes defilement. Hindústánís cook with their shoes on : Bengálís would abhor food thus prepared. Food cooked on board a boat, or ship destroys caste. It cannot be said that the rules of caste are confined to the three points here enumerated, though they all hinge on them. Thousands of Hindús would rather go to jail for years than hold a tallow-candle for one second. They dread the approach of a fowl to their houses or persons, as a source of defilement, and so forth. As to intermarriage, see note, p. 16. As to professional pursuits, see note, p. 22.

grant him a decent funeral*. It is a remarkable fact, that the jails in India art filled with hardened villains, whose crimes sink them in our eyes to the lowest depths of infamy, hut who, priding themselves on the punctilious observance of caste, have not lost one iota of their own self-respect, and would resent with frantic indignation any attempt to force them to eat food prepared by the most virtuous person, if inferior in caste to themselves ǂ.

Notwithstanding the awful severity of these rules, it cannot he proved that there is any religious sanction for them in the Veda or so-called canon of Hindú revelation ǂǂ. In Manu, which is

* It should be borne in mind, however, that the theory and practice of Hindúism are constantly at variance. In Bengal, which is at least a century in advance of other parts of India, a strong liberal party exists. Thus, at Calcutta some few years ago, at a meeting of Hindús of the old and new schools, it was decided, after a stormy controversy, that some young Brahmans who had lost caste should be re-admitted on payment of a large fine and the performance of various purificatory ceremonies. Hence, caste, however theoretically strict, practically resolves itself into a question of rupees.

ǂ Caste as a system of social rules for maintaining the self respect of each member of a community might operate beneficially, were it not for this moral obliquity, which regards crime as a mere misfortune or blunder, and loss of caste as the only real sin.

ǂǂ Although the Veda is admitted to be the only orthodox authority by educated Hindús, yet the mass of the people now-a- days would say that the Puráṇas (each meaning his own favourite Puráṇa) are of as high authority as any Vedic work. They fully believe that all the Puráṇas were composed by and derived their sanction from Veda-Vyása, the great compiler of the Veda. Any allusion to the modern origin of the Puráṇas only calls forth an incredulous smile or a look of compassion. Vyása (who is also called Kṛishṇa Dwaipáyana and Bádaráyaṇa) is not only the arranger of the Vedas and author of the Puráṇas, but also the reputed compiler of the Mahá-bhárata and the founder of the Vedánta system of philosophy. He was probably the Head of a College, the learned members of which, under his direction and superintendence,

(smṛiti) ‘tradition’ and not (śruti) ‘revelation,’ it appears first as a complete system; but even in Manu there is much less strictness in regard to marriage and the rules about eating than in the later law-books. One hymn in the Ṛig-veda (usually called the Purusha-súkta or 90th hymn of the Xth book, and evidently more modern than any of the others) alludes to a four-fold origin of the Hindú race (viz. Bráhmana, Rájanya, Vaiśya, and Śúdra), all of whom, it is said, were originally portions of Purusha, the great universal spirit, the source of the universe*. But this assigns no superiority to any one class more than would naturally arise from difference of occupation. In all probability, when the earliest hymns of the Veda were composed, that is about 1200 or 1300 years B. C., and when the Sanskṛitic race was settling down in the plains of the Ganges, social distinctions had not ‘crystallized’ into caste, and there was no hereditary order of priests. Kings and chiefs might then be the prayer-makers or hymn-chanters. But as time went on, an elaborate sacrificial system connected itself with the singing of these hymns,

arranged those important departments of Hindú literature in the form they now present themselves. See Wilson’s Vishnu-Purana, Preface, p. xi.

* This hymn is also found in the Vájasaneyi Sanhitá of the Yajur-veda and in the Atharva-veda. The following extract is from I)r. Muir’s translation, Sanskṛit texts, Vol. I. p. 6. “ Purusha alone is this whale (universe), which has been, and is to be. He is the lord of immortality. This victim, Purusha, born primordially, they immolated on the sacrificial grass. From that universal sacrifice were produced the hymns called ṛich and sáman, the metres, and the yajus. When they formed (or offered up) Purusha, into how many parts did they divide him? What was his mouth! what were his arms? what were called his thighs and feet? The Bráhman was his mouth; the Rájanya was made his arms; that which was the Vaiśya was his thighs; the Śúdra sprang from his feet.”

and required that a particular class should devote their whole attention to ministration in sacred things, Hence arose a distinct caste, which claimed a complete monopoly of religion, and arrogated absolute control over the consciences of the laity*. Whether Manu be a real or ideal personage, he serves as the impersonation of Indian priest-craft; and, had he lived in modern times, would have made a good Pope of the Hildebrand type Φ. He was to the Hindús what the most arrogant of the Roman bishops was to the Christian community, and he did more. He not only elevated the Brahmans to the highest rank in the social scale and fenced about their position by the most awful religious sanctions, but foreseeing the danger of combined opposition on the part of the laity, he took care to deprive the latter of all unity of action by separating them into classes marked off from each other by impassable lines.

* It is usual to call the Bráhmans a sacerdotal caste, hut though called priests, and in many respects resembling the Levitical tribe among the Jews, we nowhere read of their conducting public worship; and in the present day they may follow any respectable profession. It is certainly true, that in upper India all priests are Brahmans, but it by no means follows that all Brahmans are priests. Even those who devote themselves to a religious life, concern themselves chiefly with the performance of domestic ceremonies; and in southern India the sacrificing of goats and the service of the temples is often left to an inferior class of men. Public preaching or teaching in Hindú temples there is none. See note, p. 22.

Φ The Jesuitical character of many of Manu’s precepts is very curious. Though falsehood is generally denounced, yet we read in Book VIII (v. 103) that “a giver of false evidence from a pious motive, even though he know the truth, shall not lose a seat in heaven.” Again (v. 104), in some cases, “ falsehood may be spoken, it is even preferable to truth.”

The Bráhmans, he declared, were by indefeasible right the chief of all creatures. They inherited pre-eminence as their birthright, and were born the lords of the world (II. 93). Their duties were to teach and explain the Veda, to repeat it, and conduct sacrifices. They were not to seek political power, but they alone were to be the king’s ministers and advisers. Next to them came the Kshatriya s or military caste, whose principal duty was to defend the people; and after them the Vaiśyas, whose duties were agriculture, trade, and keeping cattle. These two classes might sacrifice and repeat the Veda, but not teach it. The king was to be chosen from the military caste, but was to submit himself to the guidance of Bráhmans: and, though dying of want, was on no account to take taxes from them (VII. 36.133). All three classes were called ‘twice-born’ (dwija), because at different ages (either at five or eight years old in the case of Bráhmans) they underwent a ceremony called upanaya, which was supposed to confer spiritual birth *. A thin cord (the yajnopavíta), composed of several threads, was put on over their heads, and worn under the right shoulder and over the left, as it is even now by Brahmans.

* In the 8th year from the conception of a Bráhman, in the 11th from that of a Kshatriya, and in the 12th from that of a Vaiśya, let a child undergo the ceremony upanaya (investiture with the sacred thread). Should a Bráhman, or his father for him, he desirous of his advancement in sacred knowledge, a Kshatriya of extending his power, or a Vaiśya of engaging in mercantile business, the investiture may be made in the 5th, 6th, or 8th years respectively. The ceremony of investiture, hallowed by the Gáyatrí must not be delayed, in the case of a Bráhman, beyond the 16th year; in that of a soldier, beyond the 22d; in that of a merchant, beyond the 24th.” Manu II. 36—38. In Bengal at the present day, the only caste besides the Bráhmans allowed to wear the sacred cord is that of the Vaidyas. In Bombay there is a caste, who call themselves Khatrís, who wear it. See note, p. 22.

Youths of the first three classes, thus initiated, were permitted to learn the sacred verse of the Vedas, called Gáyatrí, repeated by every Bráhman to this day, at his morning and evening devotions*. The fourth and last caste was that of the Śúdras. They were not slaves; but their duty was to serve the three higher castes, and they were not allowed to offer sacrifices or repeat the Vedas. This caste was probably formed from the more respectable of the aboriginal inhabitants, who joined themselves to the conquering Hindús, and preferred serving them to leaving their homes. Though placed immeasurably below the others, they were reckoned a pure caste, and are so considered to this day in southern India (Manu X. 4)+. According to Manu’s theory the low-castes were the mixed classes,

+ The Gáyatrí is a short verse in the 3rd Maṇḑala, sixty-second súkta of the Ṛig-veda, at the end of Vol. II. of the printed edition. It is

Tat savitur varenyam bhargo devasya dhímahi, dhiyo yo nah prachodayát, which Prof. Wilson has translated literally, “ We meditate on that excellent light of the divine sun, may he enlighten our minds (or influence our pious rites) !” Sir W. Jones has paraphrased it thus: “ Let us adore the supremacy of that divine sun, the godhead, who illuminates all, from whom all proceed, to whom all must return, whom we invoke to direct our understandings aright.”

+ Dr. Caldwell in his Dráviḑian Comp. Gram. (p. 77) remarks, that the title Śúdra conveys a higher meaning in southern than in northern India. The original Śúdra of northern India, as described by Manu, probably had no property of their own, and no civil rights. In southern India, on the contrary, it was upon the middle and higher classes of the Dráviḑian that the title of Śúdra was imposed. The Bráhmans, who came in “peaceably and obtained the kingdom by flatteries,” may have persuaded the Dráviḑians that in calling them Śúdra,they were conferring upon them a title of honour. If so, their policy was successful, for the title of Śúdra has invariably been regarded by Dráviḑians in this light, and the Śúdra ranks next to the Bráhman in southern India.

which resulted from illicit marriages between the others (described in the Xth book), such as the leather-sellers (dhigvaṇas), fisher-men (nishádas), car-drivers (sútas), attend-ants on women (vaidehas), carpenters (áyogavas)» &c.* But, in all probability, these low-classes represent the more degraded aboriginal races, made slaves by those more powerful and refined Scythian tribes who afterwards formed the pure Śúdra caste. (See notes, pp. 2 and 15.)

Hindú society, as thus depicted by Manu, no doubt represents what the Bráhmans aimed at more than what they actually effected+. Still it is clear that there was a general conspiracy on the part of the Brahmans to monopolize temporal and spiritual power without personal risk or labour. Having the Veda to learn by heart, and a complicated ritual to master, they had too much on their hands to undertake the actual government;

* Manu’s principal object in his rules about intermarriage was to debar Bráhmani women from intercourse with men of inferior castes. (See X. 30. 66. 67.) He therefore represented the off-spring of such marriages as outcaste, and in the present day the feeling on this point is quite as strong. If the child of a Brahmani woman by a man of inferior caste is ever permitted to see the light, the existence of such a child must be a perpetual disgrace.

++ From what has been stated in a previous note, it may be questioned whether in the south of India, where Bráhmanical influence penetrated slowly, Manu’s system was even earned to the extent of the division into four castes, which must have taken place in the north. There is little evidence of this division even in that favoured land of Bráhmans, Travancore, where, if any where, its traces ought to be clearly marked. Bráhmans and Śúdras are the two pure castes.

and satisfied with a dignified and lucrative repose, did not relish the risk of fighting. These duties, therefore, they delegated to the Kshatriyas, but took care to check the inconvenient growth of kingly power by entangling it in a thick network of sacerdotal influence. The king was to do nothing without his advisers, the Bráhmans. If he taxed them, or provoked them in any way, could they not immediately, “by sacrifices and imprecations, destroy him, with his troops, elephants, horses, and chariots?” (IX. 313.) * Still there were weak points in this system, of which the Kshatriyas in process of time availed themselves. All Bráhmans being theoretically born equal +, any scheme of general subordination among themselves became impossible. They were bound together by the most stringent rules, and their minutest actions regulated with the microscopic strictness of a convent; but they were without central authority, without a council, and without any general system of graduated ecclesiastical government ++. Discipline, therefore, was relaxed, the Bráhmans became careless, and the Kshatriyas more vigilant. It is clear from various legends, that long and severe

* To this day the chief power of a Bráhman lies in his curse, Few doubt that it must take effect at some time or other.

+ They are now divided into a multitude of sub-castes. See note, p. 21.

++ In some parts of India the conventual system furnishes a complete machinery of ecclesiastical government, but this is only applicable to isolated sects. I was informed by my friend Mr. Mahiputrám Ruprám (who is a pure Gujaráti Bráhman) that there are four great monasteries in different parts of India, in each of which the Superior is called Śánkaráchárya, and supposed to inherit the chair of that eminent Śaiva Reformer and Vedántist.

struggles took place between the sacerdotal and military classes; Paraśu-ráma (the mythical champion of the Bráhmans) is said to have cleared the earth thrice seven times of the whole Kshatriya race*, and the names of various kings are recorded who perished from their resistance to the encroachments of the priesthood+. On the other hand, the power of the Kshatriyas sometimes prevailed. The celebrated Viśwámitra (son of Gádhi) is fabled to have raised himself to the rank of a Bráhman; and various legends are narrated which indicate successful opposition on the part of other kings J. Finally Buddha, the great

* There are many legends connected with the incarnation of Vishṇu, called Paraśu-ráma or ‘Ráma with the axe,’ who, as a Bráhman, must not he confounded with two other celebrated incarnations of Vishṇu, Ráma-chandra and Bala-ráma (the Hindú Hercules). The history of Paraśu-ráma is related twice in the Mahá-bhárata, once in the Vana-parva,and again in the Rájadharma section of the Śánti-parva. It is also told in the 9th book of the Bhágavata-puraṇa, in the Padma, Agni, and other Puraṇas. (See Wilson’s Vishṇu-Puraṇa, p. 401.) Kártavírya, king of Mahíshmatí, happened to come to the hermitage of the sage Jamadagni, and inflated with pride, behaved disrespectfully. He was therefore slain by the sage’s son Paraśu-ráma; and to avenge their father’s death, the sons of Kártavírya killed Jamadagni. This led to the bloody contests between Ráma and the Kshatriyas. The Rájadharma, however, relates that some of the latter escaped even this thrice seven destruction of their race. Tradition ascribes the formation of the Malabar coast to Paraśu-ráma; who is said to have compelled the ocean to retire for that purpose. There is a legend that some fissures in the western Gháts were made by blows of his axe.

+ See Manu VII. 41. “ Through want of that virtuous humility Vena was utterly ruined, and so was the great king Nahusha, and Sudása, and Yavana, and Sumukha, and Nimi; but by bumble behaviour Viśwámitra, son of Gádhi, acquired the rank of a priest, though born in the military class.’’

++ Viśwámitra is fabled in the Rámáyaṇa to have gradually increased the rigour of his austerities for thousands of years before he attained the condition of a Bráhman. The story of his difficulties, as told in that poem, proves that among the Solar kings in the country of Oude,

reforming Kshatriya, himself the son of a king, styling himself ‘the Awakened or Enlightened one,’ disseminated a creed which denied the authority of the Veda, prohibited the killing of animals for sacrifice, and repudiated altogether the supremacy of the Brahmans. A system which proclaimed all men equal, which preached universal toleration, and opposed the tyranny of the priests, had no difficulty in attracting proselytes. Buddhism gradually gained ground in India; and though for a long period ignored by the Brahmans, acquired in the end political supremacy*. The best proof of

…Bráhmanical influence was much stronger than at a later period among the Lunar princes in the neighbourhood of Delhi, as described in the Mahá-bhárata. The secret of this was, that in the northern districts fresh arrivals of martial tribes through the Punjáb, mingling with the Kshatriyas, infused an independent spirit into the. people. Hence, many of the stories of the Mahá-bhárata (such as that of Drupada and Droṇa, and the marriage of Draupadí) evince a disregard for the authority and institutions of the Bráhmans.

* Buddhism was the natural reaction from a state in which the Brahmans claimed despotic control over the religious life of the community, and yet were unable to prevent the most unbridled licence in philosophical enquiry. Buddha was the son of Śuddhodana (‘eater of pure food’) king of the district of Kapilavastu, near Avodhyá. His mother’s name was Máyá. His own name was probably Sarvártha-siddha, but he is frequently called Gautama, or by a sort of complimentary title, Śákya-sinha. (‘the lion of the race of Śákya ’). The title Buddha was not assumed till afterwards. Buddha was probably born at Kapilavastu, under the Himalayas, about 600 B. C. His death is said to have taken place in the year 543. These dates, however, are conjectural, and may be nearly a century too early. Though born at Kapilavastu, Buddha very soon settled himself at the capital of Mágadha (Páṭaliputra or Patna), whence Buddhism first emanated; and the Mágadhí or principal Prákṛit, which is nearly the same as Pálí or the sacred language of the Buddhists of Ceylon, had its origin here. The existence of Buddhism in India cannot be clearly traced till the reign of the Śúdra king Piya-dasi or Aśoka, who is known to have reigned between 24o B. C. and 260 B. C. by his being the grandson of Chandra-gupta, the Sandrakottus of kings in the country of Oude, Bráhmananical influence was much stronger than at a later period among the Lunar princes in the neighbourhood of Delhi, as described in the Mahá-bhárata, The secret of this was, that in the northern districts fresh arrivals of martial tribes through the Punjab, mingling with the Kshatriyas, infused an independent spirit into the. people. Hence, many of the stories of the Mahá-bhárata (such as that of Drupada and Drona and the marriage of Draupadi) evince a disregard for the authority and institutions of the Bráhmans.

its success was that the three pure castes which re-presented the Hindú laity became confused under its influence, and even Śúdras and Vaiśyas were made kings*. The Bráhmans, however, were not

Strabo. The inscriptions discovered on pillars and rocks through-out India (written in Mágadhí Prákṛit, or vernacularised Sanskṛit, then the spoken language of the Hindús) are ascertained to be addresses from Aśoka and the Buddhist sovereigns of Mágadha to their subjects, enjoining reverence for Bráhmans, as well as for Śramanas or Buddhist ascetics. This proves that the progress of Buddhism was slow in India, and that it coexisted with Bráhmanism for several centuries. In fact, Buddhism in its first and purest form was only a modification of Hindúism derived from the Sánkhya system of philosophy. In that system there is no real God, as every thing in the universe is accounted for by nature, or a sort of plastic principle, the unintelligent creator of the world. The grand aim of Buddhism, deduced from this system, was personal annihilation, not the absorption of the soul into the Supreme Spirit, but its ‘blowing out’ (Nirváṇa) and extinction. Any human being might become a Buddha by passing through a series of transmigrations in the practice of self-mortification and benevolence, but the end of each Buddha was not to be deified, but to be extinguished like the flame of a candle. Such a modification of Hindúism may easily have proceeded from the same sceptical spirit which gave rise to the Sánkhya philosophy, and was beginning to shew itself when Manus code was compiled. (See III. 150. IV. 163. VIII. 22. XI. 66. XII. 33.) But a system substituting Atheism for Theism and Polytheism could not have gained ground, had it not professed to popularize a close and exclusive religion. No one could become a Bráhman by conversion, but any one might become a Buddhist, and any Buddhist convert might become a priest. This was the secret of its success. Its leading atheistical ideas were kept in the background, while its popular doctrines and its scheme of universal benevolence were prominently exhibited. When these attracted proselytes even among kings, and Buddhism assumed a political existence, then, and not till then, did the Bráhmans bestir themselves, and expose the true character of the system; and so opposed was Buddhism to the devotional feelings natural to the Hindús, that when revealed in its true character, it died out, probably without violent persecution, while those Buddhists who remained became absorbed into the Jains, or took refuge in Ceylon, whence the system, after undergoing considerable development, extended to Burmah, Siam, China, and Thibet.

* The Śúdra king Chandra-gupta, and his dynasty who called

to be ejected from their position so easily. Under Śankara Áchárya, in the eighth century*, they recovered their ascendancy, but they themselves lost much of their sacerdotal character, and became parcelled out into a multitude of sub-divisions or sub-castes, some tribal in their origin, some local +;

themselves Samráṭs or universal monarchs, held sway over India from 315 to 173 B. C. The mighty Gupta kings, from 150 to 280 A. D., were Vaiśyas.

Śankara Áchárya is the great Reformer, who established the preferential worship of Siva about the 8th or 9th century. Ho was also the most eminent teacher of the Vedánta philosophy. The great Vaishnava teachers were Rámánuja in the 12th century, Madhwáchárya about the 13th, and Vallabháchárya in the 16 th. The latter had eighty-four celebrated disciples. .

+ From a previous note it will be seen that the Bráhmans of the present day are not a class of priests so much as an order of men. It is very true, that the most important religious rites are conducted by Bráhmans only, but the great majority of Bráhmans engage in secular occupations, and leave ministration in sacred things to a certain section of their own body, who make it their business to master the ritual, and learn the Vedic liturgies. With regard to the numerous sub-divisions of Bráhmans , the great distinction is into five Gaura races and five Dráviḍa races. The Gauṛa includes, 1. The Gauṛa, properly so called, or Bengal Bráhmans . 2. The Kánya-kubja or Bráhmans from Kanouj. 3. The Sáraswata, from the neighbourhood of the sacred river Sáraswati in the north-west. These are pale-complexioned, intelligent, and handsome, and every where have a position conceded to them which leads them to look down 0n their brethren in other divisions. 4. The Maithila, from north Bahár. 3. The Utkala, from Orissa. The Dráviḍa includes, 1. The Dráviḍa, properly so called. 2. The Tailanga. 3. The Karnáta. 4. The Maháráshtra. 5. The Gurjara or Gujaráti. Each of these has various sub-divisions. Thus the Kauouj or Kulin Bráhmans of Bengal are divided into five well-known families, viz, Mukhsrjí, Banerjí, Chattarjí, Gángulí, and Ghoshál; and the Gujarátí Bráhmans number no less than eighty-four sub-divisions, intermarriage between these sub-castes being strictly prohibited. Even in the native state of Travancore, which of all countries in India adheres to the old Bráhmanical regime, there is a curious division of Brahmans into Deva-bráhmana and Arddha-bráhmana or divine Bráhmans and demi-Bráhmans ; the reason given for the distinction being that the latter were shorn of half their dignity by accepting

while in place of the pure Kshatriya, Vaiśya, and Śúdra, arose a countless number of mixed classes, separated by difference of occupation, and fenced off from each other by barriers more insurmountable than those which Manu had created. These modern castes, in their tenacity of social and professional privileges, are not unlike the guilds of Europe. Their jealousy of encroachments is even more marked. Those belonging to a higher stratum of society are ever vigilant to refrain from acts which would be deemed beneath their position, and to hinder the class below them from any effort to rise to their level *. Thus each caste practises an exclusive haughtiness,

landed property from Paraśu-ráma, while the former have been content to receive fees and offerings.

* It must be borne in mind, that the term Bráhman does not imply any necessary social superiority, hut only the possession of certain religious privileges. Bráhmans are often very poor, and may have to recognise as their social superiors wealthy Zamindárs or merchants of inferior caste. One of a Bráhman’s rights is, that he is allowed to follow any pursuit, provided it be not menial. They are frequently soldiers, and not uncommonly engage themselves as copyists, or even as cooks, in wealthy low- caste families. As to the Kshatriya caste, although it is no longer pure, yet the Rájputs and all who add Singh to their names in Oude and the Panjáb claim to belong to this caste. They are often doorkeepers or warders. In the Bombay presidency there is a class of silk-weavers who call themselves Khatrís, and wear the sacred thread. Pure Vaiśyas nowhere exist, although in parts of India there are castes who claim or appear to be descended from them. Thus in Bengal the caste of Vaidyas, who come next to the Bráhmans, are allowed to wear the sacred thread, which in Menu’s time was the right Vaiśyas; and their name Gupta seems to indicate community with the old Vaiśyas. (See Manu II. 32.) Though called Vaidyas (‘physicians’) they are Pandits and occasionally booksellers. Again, the caste which comes next to the Vaidyas are the Káyaths or Káyasthas, properly writers, but not infrequently merchants. They arc not allowed to wear the thread, but they are a very respectable class, and their family names (e. g. Mitra and Datte) point to some connexion with the old Vaiśyas. (Manu II. 32.)

responded to on the part of the inferior class by outward servility and inward hatred. Time would fail us if we attempted further detail. Enough has been said to shew the effect of caste as a religious institution, in breaking up the Hindú community into detached and isolated circles. Mutual confidence or sympathy is, of course, impracticable; nationality and patriotism are all but impossible.

I proceed to shew that the vagueness and uncertainty of Hindú religious belief is another source of disunion. Every religion may be said to have two sides, according to the prominence given to faith or works by different temperaments; but. the Hindú religion is truly many-sided. Though nominally founded on the Veda, the very vagueness of this word, which means ‘ knowledge,’ well expresses the character of the religion. It is true, that the term Veda is usually applied to a number of books which are supposed to constitute the collective canon of Hindú revelation; but the true sacred knowledge contained in these books (called Brahma as well as Veda) was only to be transmitted through a series of priests who were, therefore, named Brahmans.

regard to the Śúdras, in Bengal and Bombay, the term Śúdra. is applied to the low-castes, but this is a compliment to which they have no real right. It is doubtful (as observed in note, p. 16) whether the Kshatrivas and Vaiśyas ever penetrated far towards the south. Hence the Dráviḍian or southern Śúdras, who represent the next caste to the Brahmans, must not be confounded with the so-called Śúdras of Bengal and Bombay. The low-castes of southern India coincide pretty nearly with the whole ‘ unpropertied’ population, or those who serve for hire in any way. It appears, then, that one or two of the higher castes next to the Brahmans are allowed a little latitude of occupation; but in descending to the numerous low-castes every man is restricted to the occupation of his father, and if he wishes to raise himself to a higher profession, all above him oppose his rise. This exclusiveness is carried to a more absurd extreme in southern India than in the north.

           Here, then, we may note the distinction between the Christian and Hindú idea of revelation. We Christians believe that a succession of sacred hooks, and not a succession of fallible men, constitute the repository of our faith, and that God communicated knowledge to inspired writers, permitting them at the same time to preserve the peculiarities of style, incident to their respective characters as men. Our canon of scripture is limited to one compact volume, furnishing a complete directory open to every Christian, so that nothing in faith or practice is required of him which is not contained therein or cannot be proved thereby. Now a Hindú of the old orthodox school repudiates this idea of revelation. His Veda, when written down, loses much of its sacred character. Revelation with him is an eternal sound, only to be received by Bráhmans and transmitted orally by them. It is God, himself identified with ‘knowledge,’ making that knowledge heard through the Bráhmans, who, as the only channels for communicating it,

* The orthodox view of the nature of the Veda, as propounded by Bádaráyaṇa and Jaimini, the supposed authors of the Vedánta and Mímánsá systems, is that the Veda is eternal and self-existent. The ṛishis, whose names are attached to the hymns and who are acknowledged to have uttered them, merely saw or rather heard the sacred texts which, although revealed to mortals, had really pre-existed from all eternity. This view is based on the alleged eternity of sound. Jaimini asserts, “that sound or words are eternal, that the connection between words and the objects they represent is not arbitrary or conventional, but eternal also; and that consequently the Vedas convey unerring information in regard to unseen objects.” Bádaráyaṇa, the author of the Brahma Vedánta or Saríraka sútras as expounded by Śankaráchárya, corroborates the arguments of Jaimini in regard to the eternity of the Veda; but Gotama in his Nyáya aphorism, as explained by Viśwanátha Bhaṭṭáchárya in the Nyáya-sútra-vṛitti, disputes them- See Dr. J. Muir’s Sanskṛit Texts, Vol. III. pp. 52—81.

were said to constitute his mouth*. As this knowledge after a series of revelations increased beyond the capacity of human memory, it came at last to be preserved in writing, but this was done to aid the Bráhmans in recollecting not so much the sense as the true sound. They were still to be ‘the only mouth’ through which the sacred Śruti was heard, and they alone could repeat it with the intonation and accent necessary to secure its efficacy. Hence the uncertainty of that so called ‘divine knowledge,’ which, claiming an eternal existence, was really the work of numerous men during several centuries, each pretending to communicate revealed truth, and each composing hymns or laying down rules in endless succession without method or harmony of design. Most of these hymns and rules have been preserved in the collections called Ṛig, Yajur, Sáma, and Atharva-Veda+; but these *

* ‘The Bráhman was his mouth;’ see Purusha súkta, before quoted, p. 12.

+ i. The Ṛig-veda is a simple collection of hymns and prayers. 2. The Yajur veda contains many of the same hymns arranged in order for particular sacrifices. 3. The Sáma-veda gives the hymns arranged for chanting. The 1st was the prayer-book of the Hotṛi priests, the 2nd that of the Adhwaryu priests, the 3rd that of the Udgátṛi priests. The Atharva-veda (or Veda of the descendants of Atharvan and Angiras) gives hymns and formularies for expiatory, preservative, and imprecatory rites, and rules for rectifying what has been done wrong. Of the three principal Vedas, the Yajur-veda is considered the most modern, or at least the second version of it, called Śukla or white. The most ancient version, called Kṛishṇa or dark, was handed down through Tittiri (the pupil of Yáska, the pupil of Vaiśampáyana), and is therefore called Taittiríya. This latter is not so much a hymn-book as a Bráhmana or a collection of rules, forming a guide to the sacrifice as

constitute a mere fraction of the Veda. The Bráhmaṇas, vast rambling treatises (written mediums for communicating Bráhma or divine knowledge as the Bráhmans were its living repositories), and the philosophical supplements called Upanishads, claim to be equally integral parts of Hindú revelation, and to contain all the most important precepts relative to the practices and opinions of the Bráhmans. Many of these written Bráhmaṇas have been lost, and those which are extant are little if at all read; while the Upanishads, which are perhaps more studied than other parts of Vedic literature, are so obscure and mystical as to be capable of the most conflicting interpretation *.

performed by the Adhwaryu priests, such mantras only being included as had to be muttered by them. The white Yajur-veda, on the other hand, is a real hymn-book, and is called white or light, because the hymns are clearly separated; the rules being embodied in a separate work, the Śatapatha-bráhmana. It is also called Vájasaneyí-sanhitá, because handed down by Yájnavalkya of the family of the Vájasaneyins. Sec Professor Müller’s “Ancient Sanskrit Literature.”

* The Upanishads (a word professedly derived from the root sad with upa and ni, meaning ‘ to destroy ignorance by the knowledge of Brahm ’) are said to be upwards of 100 in number, but not more than eight or ten are at all known, even to Pandits. They are connected with the Áraṇyakas, or supplements to the Bráhmanas, intended for the Vánaprasthas, or Bráhmans who retired from the world into the forests (araṇya). Some of the most important are, the Aitareya for the Ṛig-veda, the Bṛihad-áraṇyaka for the white Yajur-veda (being part of the Śatapatha-bráhmana ), the Chhándogya for the Sáma-veda, the Kena, Kaṭha, Íśa, Praśna Muņḍaka, &c. They contain mystical discussions on the nature of the soul, the creation, &c.; and the reason for their being read is, that all the systems of philosophy, and especially the Vedánta, pretend to be founded on them. Without doubt, the Uttara-káņḍa, or esoteric doctrine of the Veda, is to be sought for in these Upanishads, and not in the collections of hymns usu-ally called Vedas. The fact is, that the number of works included under the general expression Veda is almost endless. Besides those already mentioned, there are the six Vedángas, or branches of Vedic science on,

A Bráhman, therefore, may enunciate almost any doctrine, and declare it to be part of the revelation of which he is the depository. Hence the comprehensiveness of Hindúism. Starting from the Veda, it appears to embrace something from all religions, and to present phases suited to all minds. It has its spiritual and its material aspect, its esoteric and exoteric, its subjective and objective, its pure and its impure. It is at once rigidly monotheistic, grossly polytheistic, and coldly atheistic. It has a side for the practical, another for the devotional, and another for the speculative. Those ’who rest in ceremonial observances find it all-satisfying; those who deny the efficacy of works and make faith their all in all, need not wander from its pale—those who delight in philosophizing on religious subjects may here indulge their taste.

i. Ceremonial (kalpa) ; 2. Accent (śikshá); 3. Metre or prosody (chhandas); 4. Grammar ( Vyákaraṇa ); 5. Etymology (nirukta); 6. Vedic astronomy or calendar (jyotisha). These include the principal works belonging to the sútra branch of Vedic literature. Thus, under the head of kalpa come, a. the Śrauta-sútras (or short rules for solemn sacrifices, founded directly on the mantras and Bráhmanas; so that without knowing these latter, the priests might go through the ceremonies), b. the Gṛihya-sútras (for domestic rites), and c. the Sámayácharika or Dharma-sútras. The two latter are sometimes called Smárta-sútras, as founded on smṛiti, ‘ tradition,’ rather than on śruti; and it is from them that Manu and the later law-books are derived. Again, under Śikshá come the Prátiśákhyas, works containing rules of pronunciation and laws of euphony for particular śákhás or recensions of the Vedic hymns. Connected with the sútra literature are two other kinds of Vedic composition; 1. The Pariśishṭas, which supply rules for the ritual omitted in other works; 2. The Anukramaṇis, or indices to the hymns. See Professor Max Müller’s “ History of Ancient Sanskṛit Literature.” It is evident, that the enormous number of the works which claim to form an integral part of the Veda, precludes any one man from mastering their contents; and since many have been lost, or were probably never written down at all, it becomes impossible to prove what doctrines of modern Hinduism arc based on the Veda, and what are not.

       In unison with its uncertain character the religious belief of the Hindús has really no single succinct and significant designation. We sometimes call it Hindúism and sometimes Bráhmanism, but these are not names recognised by the natives, and convey no definite idea. The absence of uniformity is doubtless the natural consequence of the close intertwining of religion with social distinctions. The higher classes are supposed capable of a higher form of religion than the lower, the educated than the uneducated, men than women*; just as the religions of Muhammadans and Christians are held (like their complexions) to be most suited to their peculiar constitutions, circumstances, and nationalities +.

In point of fact, the Hindú religion, as it presents itself in operation, is best expressed by the word

* The whole of a woman’s religion, according to the orthodox Hindú view, should consist in obedience, first to her father and then to her husband, with attention to domestic duties. “ The nuptial ceremony is considered as the complete institution of women (i. e. there is to be no investiture with the sacred thread), ordained for them in the Veda, together with reverence to their husbands, dwelling first in their father’s family, the business of the house, and attention to sacred fire.” Manu II. 67. Closely bound up with this view is the hopelessness of ever bringing the generality of Hindús to acquiesce in the re-marriage of widows. A woman is not her own property, and has no independence. She belongs first to her father, who gives her away to her husband, to whom she belongs for ever, both in this life and in a future state. When her husband dies, therefore, she cannot re-marry, for she is still his property, and cannot give herself away.

+ It is on this principle that Hindús remain comparatively passive and unmoved, when missionaries denounce their religion in strong language. They hold it as a matter of course that Christians will assert their own religion to be the best. Muhammadans, on the other hand, are much more violent and fanatical, and will not tolerate the slightest disparagement of their prophet.

caste, and the actual worship of the Hindús at the present day is as multiform, variable, and elastic as caste itself. The gods of the Veda are now out of fashion. Fire is still revered, but Indra, the god of the atmosphere, has been altogether superseded by Kṛishṇa *. This latter deity as an incarnation of Vishṇu, or rather Vishṇu himself + (the visible manifestation of the preserving power, as Brahma was of the creative), is perhaps the most popular member of the Hindú Pantheon, at least in Bengal; and the Puráṇa called Bhágavata, in which his history is given and his praises celebrated, is better known than any other Kṛishṇa, however, is not without many rivals.

* The principal gods of the Veda are, Indra or the atmosphere, and Agni or fire. Most of the others may he resolved into modifications of these two; for example, Súrya, the sun, is Agni in the heavens, Ac. Indra is now a very unimportant deity, although regarded as the chief of the inferior gods. The story of Kṛishṇa’s abolishing his worship is told in the Prem Ságar (ch. XXVI). Indra, it appears, was enraged that the inhabitants of Braj neglected him for Kṛishṇa; he, therefore, called the Cloud-king, and commanded him to wash away, with a deluge of rain, the whole circle of Braj and its mountain Govardhan. The clouds, upon this, discharged their water for seven days, but no one in Braj was injured, because Kṛishṇa lifted up the mountain on the tip of his little finger, and held it over the inhabitants till the clouds had expended themselves. Fire is still an object of veneration in India, though not worshiped as decidedly as it was before the Hindú religious system had diverged materially from that of the ancient Persians. Manu required householders to keep up a sacred fire in some hallowed part of the house, which was to be always burning, and to be used for the nuptial ceremony, for the morning and evening oblations, for solemn sacrifices, for the śráddha, and, finally, for the funeral pile.

+ In the form of Kṛishṇa, the god Vishṇu is said to have exhibited himself in a degree of glory far exceeding any of his other forms. In nine incarnations he manifested only an anśa or portion of his divinity, but Kṛishṇa was Vishṇu himself. See note, p. 38.

++ In the Upper provinces (except at Mathurá or Muttra, his own city) Kṛishṇa does not enjoy such high esteem as in Bengal. That his worship is comparatively modern may be inferred from

The Bráhmans and better educated classes are generally worshipers of Śiva, the manifestation of the destroying and regenerating power*. Others, especially in Oude and Hindústán proper, prefer to adore another celebrated incarnation of Vishṇu,

the circumstance that in the old Buddhist sútras reference is made to the gods reverenced in India at the time when Buddhism commenced, as to Brahmá, Náráyaṇa, Śiva, Indra, Varuṇa, Kuvera, but not to Kṛishṇa. In the more ancient portions of the Mahá-bhárata there are no descriptions of his juvenile frolics or of the Asuras sent to kill him, and the part he performs is that of a mortal. The Mahá-bhárata, however, has been filled with contradictions, anachronisms, and absurdities, to keep pace with the development of Hindu mythology. Kṛishṇa is in one passage said to have sprung from a single black hair of Hari (Vishṇu), thus: “ Hari plucked forth two hairs; the one white, the other black. These entered into two women of the family of Yadu, one of them (the white) became Baladeva, the second hair (the black) became the black Keśava,” As the worship of Kṛishṇa advanced, a supplement was added to the Mahá-bhárata, called Harivansa, in which his history is detailed with extravagant prolixity. The Vishṇu-Puráṇa, one of the earliest of these works, has followed the Mahá-bhárata in describing Kṛishṇa as having sprung from a black hair of Vishṇu, and adds, “ the hair descending on earth shall alleviate the distress (arising from the Asuras or demons), and shall slay Kánsa who is Kálanemí.” His mortal parents were Vasudeva and Devakí. The popular worship of the boy Kṛishṇa (Bála-Kṛishṇa) with Rádhá, prevalent in some parts of India, is especially inculcated in the Brahma-vaivarta-puráṇa, which is almost too modern a work to deserve the name of a Puráṇa. The tenth book of the Bhágavata is the principal authority for the full adoration of this deity (see note, p. 38), and has been translated into all the spoken languages of India. The development of the worship of Kṛishṇa, from a hero to a god, has ended in his being identified in the Bhagavad-gítá (a modern episode of the Mahá-bhárata) with Brahm, the supreme spirit. Arjuna is there described as addressing Kṛishṇa, thus : “ Thou art the supreme Brahm, the supreme light, holy, pre-eminent. All the ṛishis call thee Purusha, the eternal, divine, the primal god, the unborn, the all-pervading.” See Dr. J. Muir’s Mataparíkshá, Part I. 33. This valuable little work should be in the hands of every Indian missionary.

* As Hindúism excludes the idea of absolute annihilation, destruction only leads to reproduction, and Śiva the destroyer is also the regenerator. His stronghold is Benares, but the lower orders even in that city prefer Kṛishṇa.

called Ráma-chandra, whose history and exploits are related in the great epic poem the Rámáyaṇa*. Again, vast numbers of the Hindús, who pretend to be followers of Kṛishṇa, Ráma, or Śiva, are secretly worshipers of the Śakti or female power, personified as the consort of Śiva, and variously called Ambá, Jagad-ambá, Durgá, Kálí, Párvatí, &c. As these commit excesses deemed repugnant to the spirit of the Hindú religion, they are generally ashamed of their own creed, which is called the Váma-márga, or left-hand system of worship +. This is not all. Even the worshipers of Kṛishṇa, Rama, Śiva, and Jagadambá, are not at unity among themselves. The followers of each deity are divided into sects too numerous to describe or even to enumerated.++ There

* Ráma-chandra, of the Solar race, was no doubt a powerful king of Ayodhyá (Oude), who like Kṛishṇa of the Lunar race, at Mathurá, attained great renown by his heroism, and being afterwards exalted to a god, was represented to be a portion ( anśa ) of Vishṇu, born as the son of Daśaratha to destroy the demons infesting the earth, and especially Rávaṇa, king of Ceylon. The Asurs, Daityas or demons, so often mentioned in Hindú mythology, doubtless represented the powerful tribes of the south who opposed the advance of the Bráhmans. Although the worshipers of Ráma were originally most numerous in Oude, they were much persecuted by the Muhammadans, and many of them driven out into Bahár and the adjacent districts.

+The worshipers of the Śakti are termed Śáktas, and their doctrines and ritual are contained in the modern works called Tantras. There are two divisions of them, the Dakshináchárí and Vámáchárí, or right and left-hand ritualists. The former worship the goddesses under their amiable and mild forms, and are not ashamed of doing so publicly.

+ +Although there are many sects that are fanatically exclusive in favour of either Vishṇu or Śiva, none of them are very numerously followed, except, perhaps, some of the Vaishnava. Most of the Yogís and Sannyásís belong to these particular sects; but the mass of the people, although they profess to show a preference

are also the Sikhs of the Panjáb, often regarded as Hindús, but really disciples of Nának Sháh, who attempted to reconcile Hindúism with the faith of the Musalmáns, and promulgated the Grantha to supersede the Veda*. Moreover, throughout India a large, probably by far the largest class, take one god as their favourite deity (ishṭa-devatá), but acknowledge the others also, and keep the festivals in honour of each. Finally, since Hindúism allows any amount of free-thinking on metaphysical subjects, numbers of educated Hindús have really no other creed than that which they derive from one of the systems of philosophy. These are six in number: viz. Nyáya, Vaiśeshika, Sankhyá, Yoga, Vedánta (or Uttara-mímánsá), and Mímánsá (or Purva-mímánsá). All of them agree in deferring to the Veda as their ultimate authority; but the only school which has really impressed itself on the popular mind is the Vedánta +.

for some one god, look upon all the Hindú deities with equal respect, as manifestations of one Supreme Being.

* The Sikhs were a religious sect established in the time of Baber by Nának Sháh, who propagated doctrines of universal toleration, and was the zealous advocate of a union of faith between Hindús and Muhammadans on .the basis of the unity of the godhead. The sect was continued, and its tenets embodied in ten sacred volumes, called Granthas, by a succession of ten sainted gurus ending in Guru Govind, who lived in the time of Aurangzíb, and meeting with persecution, converted his followers from peace-able citizens into deadly enemies to the Mogul empire and faith. The chiefs of the Sikh nation formed themselves into separate, confederacies, called Misals. The twelfth of these was headed by Charak Singh, the ancestor of Runjit Singh, who afterwards be-came supreme.

+ The six systems are here enumerated in the order given by Dr. Ballantyne. Practically there are only three systems, viz. x. the Nyáya by Gautama (or Gotama); 2. the Sánkhya by Kapila; 3. the Vedánta by Vyása or Bádaráyaṇa, of which, a. the Vaiseshika. by Kaṇáda, b. the Yoga by Patanjali, and c. the Púrva

Indeed all Hindús, whatever be their nominal form of worship, are more or less philosophers;

mímánsá by Jaimini are respectively branches. I)r. Ballantyne rightly shows that the word mímánsá means ‘ seeking to understand,’ and that the terms Púrva and Uttara-mímánsá refer not to, time, but to the divisions of the Veda, which Jaimini and Vyása respectively expounded. ‘The Uttara-mímánsá of Vyása is a seeking to understand the gyána-káṇḍa or spiritual part of the Veda, while the Púrva-mímánsá (or the Mímánsá as it is often called, the term Vedánta being applied to the Uttara) is a seeking to understand the ritual portion. Each of the six systems investigates such questions as ‘ the cause of the world,’ ‘ the chief end of man,’ ‘ the way to obtain beatitude,’ ‘ the nature of soul,’ ‘ the relation of the visible world to soul,’ he., and expounds them differently. The only bond that connects them all is their supposed acceptance of the Veda. Their chief difference lies in the diversity of their views as to the relation that soul bears to the visible world. It is not unlikely, that the Sánkhya school, which gave rise to Buddhism, was the first in order of time. The Nyáya (which means ‘fitness,’ ‘method’) professes to shew the proper method of arriving at all kinds of truth, and propounds a logical or rather rhetorical mode of reasoning, which consists of, i. the proposition (pratijná), as, ‘the hill is fiery;’ 2. the reason (hetu) ‘for it smokes;’ 3. the example (udáharaṇa nidarśana) ‘ what smokes is fiery;’ 4. the application (upanaya) ‘ the hill smokes;’ 5. the conclusion (nigamana) ‘the hill is fiery.’ The Nyáya is the most scientific of the three systems. It may be said to concern itself entirely with substantial things, as it conjoins soul with other substances, giving to all a real substantial existence. The Sánkhya, on the other hand, discriminates between soul and matter, asserting both to be eternal, and both to be eternally separate; but making soul (or souls, for there are many) to be the only substance, and matter to consist of the three qualities (sattwa, rajas, tamas). The Vedánta rises above the other two systems, asserting, with the Sánkhya, that soul is the only substance) but, in opposition to the other two, denying that any thing but the one Soul really exists, and ignoring the. Existence of the material world as any thing more than an illusive appearance. Although all the systems pretend to accept the Veda, and so to be distinguished from Buddhism, the two known by the terms Vedánta and Mímánsá are alone deemed strictly orthodox. Thus, in Vijhána-Bhikshu’s Kapila bháshya, it is said, “ In the system composed by Gautama and Kaṇáda (i. e. the Nyáya and Vaiseshika), and in the Sánkhya and Yoga doctrines, the portion opposed to the Veda should be rejected. In the doctrine of Jaimini and Vyása there is no part opposed to the Veda” Colebrooke’s Essays I. 228.

and Vedántism holding the external world as an illusion, and the supreme spirit as the only existing thing, is the natural current which drifts the thoughts of thinking Hindús towards a dreamy, inactive fatalism *.

Here then we come back to the Veda as the one rallying point: the word Vedánta meaning ‘end or scope of the Veda’ and the system professing to communicate that end. Hindúism begins with the Veda and ends with the Vedánta. This system of philosophy is in fact the full expression of the one leading idea of the Hindú religion—that idea which is supposed to underlie the primitive elemental worship of the Ṛig-veda, to be gradually developed in the Bráhmaṇas, to be more clearly revealed in the Upanishads, to be completely manifested in the Vedánta, and to be consistent with all the variety of religious worship prevalent in the present day. This leading idea is the existence of a supreme universal spirit, the only really existing and abiding principle (vastu), which in fact constitutes the universe +; and into which the soul, regarded as an emanation from it, but really identified with it, must be ultimately absorbed; such absorption being the highest object of man and only to be effected by a course of discipline, during which the soul is gradually released from the bondage of existence and arrives at the conviction that it is indeed God. The gradual development of this idea may be easily traced. When the Indo-Áryan races first arrived in upper India, they had not lost the active habits natural to their character,and conspicuous in their brethren of Europe to the present day.

*,+ noted previously..

We have in the Ṛig-veda plain indications of a busy matter-of-fact spirit . Natural objects made themselves felt, and people made gods of fire, light, and the atmosphere, because they depended on these to supply their bodily necessities. Spiritual wants they had none. They worshiped not from devotion (bhakti), but simply to obtain something or to avoid something. When, however, the Hindús had settled down in the plains of the Ganges, their devotional tendencies began to develop themselves. They became conscious of spiritual cravings which the cold formality of the Vedic ritual could not satisfy. There is in the human soul an inherent instinct which tends spontaneously towards its appropriate object, and seeks union with the great Father of spirits as its natural resting place. Had a true revelation given the right direction to these yearnings, who can tell to what an elevation the Hindú character might not have attained? But left to think out for themselves the problem of existence, and acted on by a climate which stimulates the intellect while it indisposes to muscular activity, they lapsed into dreamy speculations. The present lost all reality. The future became all-important. The external world was an illusion (Máyá); life and activity the source of pain and evil. The only real thing was the divine soul, and the only real object to get rid of the fetters (guṇa)* of existence, and merge all personal identity in the Infinite, as the river mixes with the ocean.

The word for fetter (guṇa) means also ‘quality;’ and of qualities, according to Sánkhya and Vedánta, there are three, viz. i. sattwa ‘goodness;’ 2. rajas ‘emotion;’ 3. tamas ‘darkness or grossness.’ These are the fetters with which the soul is, as it

This, without doubt, was the history of the pure theory of Hindúism, derived, as was supposed, from the Veda.

But how were these views reconciled with the actual practice—with a complex ritual, a ponderous sacrificial system, and the idolatrous worship of later times? The key to the difficulty lies in the wideness of meaning applicable to the word Veda. Knowledge may be exoteric and esoteric. The Veda (like the Qurán*) was considered to have two parts, the outer and the inner; the one plain and obvious to all, the other hidden and intelligible to the few. The first, called the Purvá-káṇḍa, placed man’s chief end in works and ritual observances; the second or Gyána- káṇḍa held that knowledge of the supreme spirit was the all in all. The esoteric doctrine being mystical and vague gave room for all shades of metaphysical investigation, and enabled its teachers to explain it differently, according to their several theories.

were, bound; and hence in the Vedánta, the three qualities are identified with Ajnána, ‘ ignorance,’ or that want of knowledge of the oneness of the supreme spirit with the individual soul, which, as it veils the sole reality in the garb of an illusory external world, becomes personified as the creator of the world. It is a genuine Hindú idea that activity ( Pravṛitti ) or energy of any kind involves sin and imperfection, and that perfect repose (Nivṛitti) is necessary to sinless happiness. The moment a soul attaches itself to a quality of any kind, even to ‘ goodness,’ its attainment of freedom (moksha) is retarded. This idea has been expressed by a fable, in which the Soul is represented as possessing two wives, Pravṛitti and Nivṛitti, with opposite inclinations, each of them claiming his undivided affection, and the latter, in the end, gaining the day.

* The Qurán has an exoteric meaning called zahr, and an esoteric, batn. Moreover, the Muhammadans, especially in Persia, have a refined mystic philosophy, commonly known as Soofeeism, which has many points in common with Hindú philosophy.

The material aspect of Hindúism, on the other hand, admitted that God had no form, but contended that he might assume various forms for particular purposes, like light in the rainbow, and that external ceremonies and visible images of the Supreme, were necessary to impress the minds of the ignorant, and bring down the Incomprehensible to the level of human understandings. According to this view, the vast system of Hindú mythology was nothing but the natural incrustation with which, by gradual accretion, the spiritual doctrine became overlaid, Ráma and Kṛishṇa were great kings and heroes; and as every human being was an incarnation of the Supreme, so in an especial manner were the great men of the earth, who thus became worshiped as portions of the one God by the intelligent, and as actual gods by those to whom the higher doctrine was unknown*. But deified heroes and every god in the Hindú Pantheon might become inferior to any mortal man, who by self-discipline and mortification assimilated himself more closely to the supreme spirit.

However multiform, then, the various aspects

A section of the Mahá-bhárata, called Anśávataraṇa (or ‘ the incarnation of parts of the gods’), relates that the gods often be came partially incarnate in heroes and great men. It is certain, that the notion of incarnation is not confined to the ten popular incarnations of the god Vishṇu. Śiva has his Avatárs, called Rudras, Bhairavas, Vira-bhadra, &c.; and Balaráma is regarded by some as an incarnation of the great serpent Śesha. Many Hindus think, that Vishṇu became incarnate in the celebrated Śankara-Áchárya, and in the great muni Kapila (author of the Sánkhya philosophy); and Chaitanya, a renowned reformer of the Vaishnava sect, is regarded in Bengal as an Avatár of Kṛishṇa. See the second note, p. 29.

of Hindúism, they are all reconcilable by one Sanskṛit word derived from the root vid ‘to know, implying knowledge of the Deity according to two views, one popular, the other mystical. He who would seek for either of these views in the collection of hymns, to which the name Veda is usually restricted, or even in the Bráhmaṇas, would seek in vain. It is in the supplements to the Bráhmaṇas, called Upanishads*, that we discern the first distinct traces of the spiritual doctrine; and it is to the Epic poems and Puráṇas, which are comparatively modern works, some of the latter being as recent as the seventh or eighth century of our era, that we must look for the more popular view +. The Puráṇas, indeed, are on this account sometimes called a fifth Veda; and just as the

See the note, p. 26.

+ The Puráṇas are drawn almost entirely from the Mahá-bhárata, and are eighteen in number, viz. 1 Brahma; 2. Padma; 3. Vishṇu; 4. Śiva; 5. Bhágavata; 6. Nárada; 7. Márkaṇḍeya; 8. Agni; 9. Bhavishya; 10. Brahma-vaivarta; 11. Linga ; 12. Varáha; 13. Skanda; 14. Vámana; 15. Kúrma; 16. Matsya; 17. Gáruḍa; 18. Brahmáṇḍa. Each is supposed to treat of five topics, viz. creation, secondary creation (after destruction), genealogy (of gods, &c.), the reigns of the Manus, and the history of (mortal) races. No one Puráṇa treats of the whole of these five subjects, although the Vishṇu conforms most closely to the definition Pancha-lakshaṇa. The Bhágavata is the great authority for the worship of Kṛishṇa, and is certainly the most popular, though portions of the other Puráṇas are read aloud at festivals, and the Gáruḍa is said to be used at funeral ceremonies. No one Puráṇa can be taken as a guide to Hindu belief as a whole, but rather to some separate branch, in which the worship of either Vishṇu or Śiva in particular manifestations is preferentially encouraged. The Matsya gives an abstract of the contents of all the Puráṇas, but this does not always agree with the extant works, either in the subjects described or the number of slokas enumerated (for example, in the Bhavishya there is scarcely any prediction of future events); and many, therefore, think that the substance of the original Puráṇas has been superseded by modern compositions.

Upanishads are the only part of Vedic literature studied by the more thoughtful and intellectual Pandits of the present day, so the Puráṇas take the place of the real Veda as exponents of the grosser and more popular aspects of Hindú worship.

And this brings me to the centre to which all my previous observations have converged,—the use and importance of Sanskrit to the missionary, as the sacred and learned language of India, the repository of the Veda in its widest sense, the vehicle of Hindú theology, philosophy, and mythology, the source of all the spoken dialects, the only safe guide to the intricacies and contradictions of Hindúism, the one bond of sympathy, which, like an electric chain, connects Hindús of opposite characters in every district of India. There can be little doubt that a more correct knowledge of the religious opinions and practices of the Sanskṛitic Hindús, or as we may call them the Hindús proper, is essential to extensive progress in our Indian missions*. This knowledge is best gained

A minority only of the Christian converts in India belongs to the Hindú race properly so called. The greatest missionary success has been obtained in Tinnevelly and the neighboring districts in the south, where the converts are mostly Shanárs—a very low caste, not Hindús, either by race or religion, whose business is to climb the palmyra palm (tála) and make incisions for extracting the juice used for toddy (táḍí). I am informed, that out of about 112,000 converts in the whole of India. 91,000 have been obtained in the south, and that of these not more than 3,000 belong to the true Sanskṛitic race, i. e. to the race of Hindús proper. The Rev. T. Foulkes has favoured me with the following remarks in relation to this subject: “ With our present more extensive acquaintance with the component parts of the masses of the people we are in a better position to estimate the direction in which to push forward our future efforts for their spiritual benefit. Taking the province of Tinnevelly for an example, its population,

at first hand from Sanskṛit books. The Christian missionary who attempts to hold discussions with educated natives without an acquaintance with the Sanskṛit language may be strong in intellect and

according to the census of 1856, amounted to 1,339,374. And, separating these into religious classes, we find them made up of the following :

Hindús proper …..                                        742,362

Semi-Hindús (Pariahs, Pallars, &c.) . .236,022

Non-Hindús (Shanárs) ….                       176,640

Muhammadans …..                                     76,345

Christians :—

Protestants . . . 46,047

Romanists . . . 61,958

                                                                               108,005

                                                                              1,339,374

Comparing the number of Protestant converts with the classes of the people from which they have been chiefly obtained, namely, the semi-Hindús and the non-Hindús, the progress of missionary success during the half century or less in which it has been achieved may be regarded with great satisfaction. But when we reflect that scarcely more than a thousand converts of the entire number have been gathered from the pure Hindús, we at once see where the weak point of the present system is, and so far we are in the way towards a remedy. Have we not been too apt to conclude that the ‘ low-castes’ of India correspond with the ‘ poorer classes of European nations; and been led to direct our efforts towards them accordingly, supposing them to constitute the ‘masses’ of the people! Whereas, as the above analysis shows, and which may be regarded as a fair specimen of the divisions of classes in other provinces,—the true masses of the people are the Hindús proper. Having advanced thus far, the farther steps seem easy to take, namely, that for more extensive progress of missionary effort in India we must in future pay greater regard than hitherto to such methods as are likely to operate upon the true ‘ masses’ of the country.”

With reference to the same subject the British Quarterly Review for May 1852 observes: “We have long felt depressed by two conspicuous facts belonging to the history of missions among Protestants. The one is, that our missionaries produce comparatively no impression on the civilized heathen; the other is, that scarcely any where is the impression made upon the barbarous of such a nature as to raise them to the self-reliance of civilized men. Is it ever to be thus! If not, what are the changes necessary to give existence to better results!” (Quoted by Dr. Muir, Mataparíkshá, p viii )

faith, but resembles a man shod in iron walking on ice. He has no certain standing-ground, and must either slip altogether or advance with timid hesitating steps. Not that the Hindús with whom he converses are likely to be Sanskṛit scholars. Real Pandits are, after all, rarely to be found in India, except in the neighbourhood of the great seats of learning, and the ignorance of the mass of the population is notorious. But what we assert is, that the national character is cast in a Sanskṛit mould, and that the Sanskṛit language and literature is not only the key to a vast and apparently confused and unmeaning religious system, but is also the one medium of approach to the hearts of the Hindús, however unlearned, or however disunited by the various circumstances of country, caste, and creed. It is, in truth, even more to India than classical and patristic literature was to Europe at the time of the Reformation. It gives a deeper impress to the Hindú mind than the latter ever did to the European; so that a missionary at home in Sanskṛit will be at home in every corner of our vast Indian territories.

Little more need be said to commend Sanskṛit to the attention of the Indian missionary. It may be worth while, however, to explain more fully, First, its use as the root and source of the spoken languages; and, secondly, its use as a key to the literature, and, through that, to the opinions and usages of the Hindús.

       First, then, as to its bearing on the spoken languages. To make this clear, I must point out the exact meaning of the two words Sanskṛit and Prákṛit, the former of which is applied to the learned language, and the latter to the vulgar dialects of India. The word Sanskṛit is compounded of the preposition sam ‘ together’ (equivalent to the Greek συν and the Latin con) and the passive participle kṛita ‘ formed,’ the whole meaning ‘artificially or symmetrically constructed’ (in Latin, confectus, constructus). In the word Prákṛit, on the other hand, the same participle kṛita,”• formed,’ is combined with a different preposition pra, and the change of preposition changes the meaning from ‘artificially’ to ‘naturally’ constructed. Sanskṛit and Prákṛit, therefore, exactly express the relation of the learned to the vernacular dialects of India. These two forms of speech may be compared to two children of the same parent—the one, refined by every appliance of science and art, the other, allowed to run wild; or to two pictures of the same object—the one, the ideal of the artist, the other, the photograph of nature.

     When the Sanskṛit-speakers migrated towards the East, they brought, of course, their own language with them*. We are not to suppose, however, that this was the elaborate systematized Sanskṛit of Páṇini and the higher literature. The language of the Ṛig-veda is perhaps the nearest approach to the original speech of the early settlers ; and the simple style of the code of Manu, the two heroic poems, and the dramas, which is full and vigorous, but not artificial, is probably a

* Not that Sanskṛit was the original language of the Indo- European race, but as the elder sister of Greek and Latin, it is a closer approach to that primeval tongue (the common source of the three), which is now lost.

fair representation of the more formed dialects of the Hindús when they had settled down in the plains of the Ganges. As this language gradually worked its way towards central and southern India, it found the ground already occupied by the Scythian dialects of the primitive immigrants. The collision of these rough tongues with the powerful Sanskṛit was like the conflict of a sturdy dwarf with a strong man armed. The rude dialects, of course, gave way, but not until they had left indelible traces of the struggle on the Sanskṛit of both high and low, Bráhmans and Śúdras. As time went on, however, the effects of the collision grew fainter in the Sanskṛit of the Bráhmans, and the language of learning and literature gradually perfected itself, till it reached an excess of elaboration and refinement, quite unsuited to the purposes of ordinary speech. In the dialects of the lower classes, on the other hand, the impress of the original tongues grew deeper and stronger, till it disintegrated the language of the people into Prákṛit.

The simple Sanskṛit of Manu and the two heroic poems and the dramas lies hallway between the highly elaborated Sanskṛit and the vulgar Prákṛit. The plays themselves afford a remarkable specimen of this process of elaboration on the one side and of disintegration on the other. The higher characters speak the simple Sanskrit, and occasionally, as if to establish their pretensions to learning, rise to the higher and more elaborate style. The inferior characters, on the other hand, speak different forms of Prákṛiticised-Sanskṛit, or Sanskrit in various phases of disintegration. The

Prákṛits, or vernacular tongues of the present day;’ represent Sanskṛit in its later stages of decomposition, and variously modified by collision with the primitive dialects of different localities *.

First of all, and most important in the list, we have Hindí, the speech of the 30 millions of Hindústán proper. This has a multitude of modifications in various provinces. There is the Mágadhí of S. Behár, the Maithilí of N. Behár and Tirhut, the Púrbí or eastern dialect, the Braj Bhákhá or speech of Braj current near Agra, and numerous others. Hindústáni or Urdú, again, is nothing-but Hindí mixed with the Arabic and Persian of the Muhammadan conquerors, and loosely spread, but often sparsely and at considerable intervals (like the Hindúised Musalmáns who speak it), over the whole surface of India+. Then we have

The form of Prákṛit called Páli (meaning ‘ancient’) stands nearest to the Sanskrit, and was the first step of departure from the ancient language. This is the sacred language of Ceylon and Burma, in which all their Buddhist literature is written. It was no doubt introduced into Ceylon by Buddhist missionaries from Magadha, when Buddhism began to develop itself, and represents the most general provincial dialect prevalent in northern India about the 5th century B. C. Next to Páli comes the Prákṛit used in the rock inscriptions of Aśoka and the Buddhist kings of Magadha, found in various parts of India, and representing the speech of the people about the time of Alexander’s invasion. Then succeeds the Prákṛit of the dramas, which represents the provincial dialects existing a little before and after the Christian era. Between these earlier phases of Prákṛit there is no great disparity. It is curious to trace the process by which they gradually passed into the modern vernaculars. See Dr. Muir’s Sanskṛit Texts, Vol. II. There is another remarkable form of Prákṛit, which may represent an earlier stage of disintegration than even Páli. It is found in the Gáthás of the Lalita-vistara— ballads, which, though not written, must have been current amongst the people soon after Buddha’s death.

+ Hindústáni was called Urdú or the ‘ camp language,’ because it originated in the camp of the Mogul conquerors, just as a kind of mixed jargon began to be formed in the camp of Napoleon’s armies.

the language of Bengal, called Bengálí, which in its vocabulary, maintains a closer connection with its parent Sanskṛit than any other form of Prákṛit. On the Bombay side there are two most important languages, Maráthí and Gujaráthí, neither of them wide departures from the original Sanskṛit*. In Orissa there is Uriya, closely united to the same stem, and nearly related to Bengálí. In the Panjáb we have Panjábí; in Sindh, Sindhí; in Nepál, Nepálese; in Asam, Asamese; in Kaśmír, Kaśmírian; all branches from the Sanskṛit stock. In every one of these dialects the proportion of Sanskṛit words varies from 75% to 90% of the entire vocabulary. As to the south of India, the more powerful and

Here is the account of its origin given by Mír Amman of Delhi in his preface to the best known of all Urdú books, ‘the Bágh o Bahár.’ “ I have heard from the lips of my ancestors the following account of the Urdú language:—The City of Delhi in the opinion of the Hindús has existed during the four Yugas. It was inhabited of old by their kings with their subjects, who spoke their own bhákhá(dialect). A thousand years ago the rule of the Musalmáns began. Sultán Mahmúd of Ghazní came. Afterwards the Ghorí and Lodí dynasties held sway. By reason of this intercourse, a certain mixture of the languages of the Hindús and Musulmáns took place. At length Amír Tímúr conquered Hindústan. In consequence of his arrival and residence, the bázár of the army was introduced into the city, and the bázár of the city came on that account to be called Urdú. When king Akbar ascended the throne, all races, learning the liberality of that unequaled family and its patronage of merit, gathered round his court from all the surrounding countries; hut the language of all these people was different. From their being collected, trafficking together, and talking with each other, a camp (Urdú) language became established.” Urdú is a Tartar word.

* Grammatically, Márathí is a nearer approach to Sanskṛit than Bengálí, and is closely linked with the old Páli and the Prákṛit of the plays. It is one of the most interesting of the modern Prákṛits, and may almost lay claim to the possession of an independent literature.

civilized of the Scythian tribes, driven in that direction by the pressure of later immigrants, retained their independence, and with it the individuality of their native tongues. Yet the four South-Indian languages, Tamil, Telugu, Kanarese, and Malayálam, though distinct in structure, and referrible to the Scythian or Turanian type, take from Sanskṛit an infinity of words relating to science, law, religion, caste, and the various incidents of Hindú life *.

Sanskṛit then, at least the simple form of it, represented by the code of Manu, the Rámáyaṇa, Mahá-bhárata, and the drama, though called a dead language, is really the living stem through which the vernacular tongues of India draw sap and substance and life itself. By its means an entrance may be made good into every dialect, spoken by Hindús, in every corner of our Eastern empire. It is therefore the best general language that can be studied in England by those who are destined for an Indian life, and ignorant of the particular locality in which their lot may be cast. And while in every dialect it is the guide to orthography, etymology, and the source of supply for the formation of a vocabulary ; in many it is also a clue to the intricacies of grammatical structure, and the best introduction to the idioms of syntax. Thus in Hindí the common use of the agent with the particle ne, which is a perpetual stumbling-block to ordinary learners, can never be confusing to

*See my Sanskṛit Grammar, published at the University Press. Introductory Remarks, p. xxii.

Sanskṛit scholars*. And in Bengálí the Sanskṛit compounds and participles, which are freely employed, can never he properly understood without a knowledge of the rules of Sanskṛit euphony bearing on this subject. In Maráthí, again, the whole grammar and structure of the language is influenced by Sanskṛit. “The declension of its nouns,” according to Dr. Wilson of Bombay, “ is affected by a majority of Sanskṛit words used as postpositions, and even most of its inseparable postpositions have a Sanskṛit connection. Sanskṛit nouns retain their own gender in Maráthí. There is much agreement in the Sanskṛit and Maráthí pronouns. The Sanskṛit verbs and participles, too, in their grammatical incidents, throw light on Maráthí. The Sanskṛit numerals are the fountain of those of Maráthí,—the changes of them being but of a slight character.”

I come now to the second use of Sanskṛit, as the only vehicle of Hindú literature. In European countries, literature changes with the languages. Each modern dialect has its own literature, which is the best representation of the actual condition of the countries and the characters and habits of its present inhabitants. To know the Italians as they are now, it would be mere waste of time to study Latin, when the modern literature is at our command. But the literature of the Hindú vernacular dialects is scarcely yet deserving of the name. In most cases it consists of bad reproductions of the Sanskṛit. To understand the present state of Indian society, which varies little from the stereotyped laws ever stamped on Eastern manners,

* See, on this subject, my ‘ Easy Introduction to Hindústáni,’ p. 105. (Longmans.)

to enable us to unravel the complex texture of Hindú feelings, and explain inconsistencies otherwise inexplicable, we must trust to Sanskṛit literature alone. Sanskṛit is the only language of poetry, of the drama, of religion and philosophy, and of that celebrated code, composed many centuries before the Christian era, which is still the basis of the civil law of the Hindús.

It will follow from what has been said, that if the missionary desire to understand the system which he seeks to overthrow, if he wish to gain a correct insight into the national mind, to acquire any real hold on the hearts of the natives, and conciliate a respect for himself and his office, he ought to know Sanskṛit. Many will imagine that we are here proposing an impossible task. Sanskṛit may be presented in an aspect so forbidding as to deter the most venturesome, and discourage the most ardent. The very word Sanskṛit expresses, as we have seen, almost infinite elaboration. We may so direct our attention to the language and the literature, that its vastness and complexity will appear overwhelming. Quality with a Hindú might be said to mean quantity, were it not that it often consists in the most laconic brevity. No arithmetical rule seems to be so cultivated by them as that of multiplication; yet no mental operation is so well understood as that of concentration. The excellence of grammar is measured by the multiplicity of rules, and the excellence of rules by the oracular obscurity with which they are expressed. Although in history, geography,- and some of the natural sciences,

     Sanskṛit is avowedly defective, scarcely a subject, can be named, in other departments of literature, on which a greater number of treatises, ranging between the two extremes of prolixity and condensation, could not be produced in Sanskṛit than in any other language. The dictionary may be made to teem with roots, each root multiplying within itself till it become prolific of innumerable words. Words, again, may be linked together, till one compound occupies two or three lines, and every sentence become a riddle, which even a good scholar may spend hours in solving. The study of the language thus presented will seem like the attempt to reach the highest peak in a range of hills. The weary traveller, when, after long toil, he reaches the apparent summit, sees other heights stretching out before him in an interminable vista. It is clear, that if there were no other aspect of Sanskṛit, and if nothing could he done to simplify its study, it must ever remain a terra incognita to the missionary. Armed to do battle with Indian superstition, he feels that he must be equipped with other weapons besides Sanskṛit. He must, before all things, be a skilled divine, properly versed in Biblical knowledge, and ought not, therefore, to be ignorant of Greek and Hebrew. He should be acquainted with the general structure of Arabic,—a language peculiarly interesting to the missionary from its close relationship to Hebrew, and most important as entering largely into Hindústání, and embodying the sacred literature of the Muhammadans. He will have to be perfect master of at least one vernacular; and he ought to be trained in logical disputation, to cope with acute and argumentative Pandits. With so much on his hands, how is he to turn his mind to a difficult language like Sanskṛit, unless every appliance be adopted to lighten his labours?

Little help in this respect can be looked for from native Pandits*. To them the difficulty of Sanskṛit is its chief merit. They regard it as an evidence of the sacredness of the tongue, which they worship as a deity. Their whole object seems to be to prevent the intrusion of the vulgar by surrounding the grammar with a thorny hedge of technicalities. Their very ideas of writing and printing bear out this view. Written marks are with them merely artifices to perpetuate an elaborate phonetic system. Sentences, therefore, are written as they are pronounced, and no other divisions recognised but pauses in the voice +. To facilitate reading by modern typographical improvements is a desecration of their divine alphabet, which was invented to enshrine the divine sound, and not to carry ideas in the quickest manner to the brain through the eye. Hence it happens that very few natives, except Pandits, can read Sanskṛit; still fewer can understand more than the commonest proverbial aphorisms ; but all will listen to the sound with the utmost reverence, as if the sense were immaterial.

* I am glad to record one exception in Bengal. Pandit Iswara Chandra -Vidyáságara has founded a new school of Sanskṛit scholarship, which bids fair to popularise the study.

+This subject has been fully discussed by me in the preface to my edition of ‘The Story of Nala,’ lately published at the University Press, where will be found a more complete exposition of the arguments on which I base my views.

Happily, in studying Sanskṛit in England, these views need not, or rather cannot, be maintained. We are ready to bend to Sanskṛit more than we have done to ancient Greek. The pronunciation need not be Anglicized: but all that relates to writing and printing, must bend to us. Our practical spirit peremptorily requires that the eye, already overtasked, shall be consulted in Sanskṛit, even more than in less difficult languages, by distinctness of typography, by spacing, and punctuation. The notion of printing to suit the ear more than the eye is to us as incongruous as that of using a locomotive on the water, or driving it over a mountain instead of through it. Such notions must at once be repudiated*. Again, Sanskṛit

* It seems to be necessary to the progress of printing, whether European or Asiatic, that in its early stages it should make concessions to the predilections of the first Pandits, to whose labours among intricate manuscripts it owes its development. Thus in the 15th century, when classical scholars commenced editing Greek literature, it was thought essential to the interests of scholarship that printed books should to a great extent resemble the manuscripts, the deciphering of which had cost so much intellectual effort. The contractions were, therefore, preserved, and the words were printed close together, without spacing or punctuation. Sanskrit printing has been passing through a similar stage of its development, but I trust a time is coming when books printed in imitation of Sanskrit MSS. will be as great curiosities as the Florence Homer of the 15th century, to be seen in the Bodleian Library. In the prefaces to various books I have endeavoured to shew that a European method of printing Sanskṛit is quite compatible with the preservation of its elaborate euphonic system, and I am glad to find my views supported by l)r. Muir’s last volume of Sanskrit Texts. Dr. Muir says in his preface, that “ the adoption of the Roman characters has saved him much labour in the way of transcription, and has the advantage of being some-what more economical.” This is the strongest argument for the attempt to apply the Roman alphabet to Hindustani and other Indian dialects; and although I have never gone the length of advocating its exclusive adaptation to Sanskrit, I may here state, that observing from Dr. Muir’s work what is gained in clearness

grammar must be stripped of its mysticism, and its technicalities swept away, with all needless incrustations. A railroad must be carried through all its difficulties, and no affectations of scholarship must interfere with our reaching our terminus as easily and rapidly as possible. Rules of Sandhi and Syntax—the very language and literature themselves—are to us, so to speak, merely steppingstones. Our end is not Sanskṛit, but something beyond. We wish to know the spoken languages, to know the people, to gain in the shortest and quickest manner the mind, the heart, the soul of the native. Nor is there any reason why Sanskṛit should not condescend to be made easy, like other languages. By the aid of many elementary works, and useful editions already published in this country, the missionary may gain all the knowledge of it he requires before leaving England. The difficulties, at least, of the language should be conquered in this country. When a missionary has the fatigue of daily preaching, and, perhaps, native churches to superintend,

by the power which the Roman character gives of dispensing with the awkward viráma, and of applying the hyphen to separate long compounds, I cannot but think that Sanskṛit would attract more English students if a grammar and two or three good Sanskṛit books were printed wholly in Roman type. If any be disposed to smile at my appreciation of the hyphen for the division of long compounds, let him say whether a parliamentary word looks clearer thus —Metropolis-local-management-act-amendment-bill, or thus — Metropolislocalinanagementactamendmentbill. Such compounds are common in every page of Sanskṛit composition. Here is one taken at hap-hazard from Dr. Muir’s last volume (p. 40) : Karma-phala-rúpa-sáríra-dhári-jíva-nirmitatvábháva-mátreṇa. Having conceded so much to the common-sense view of this matter, it is to be regretted that Dr. Muir has not gone to the full length of adapting European punctuation to Romanized Sanskṛit.

he is utterly unequal to the drudgery of Sanskrit grammar. In England, with judgment in his method of study, he may effect much. The language and the literature have really two aspects, one simple and natural, the other complex and artificial. In the one, words are made subservient to ideas; in the other, ideas are subservient to words. We have already shewn, that the simple and natural form of Sanskṛit leads directly to the spoken dialects, and contains all the useful portions of the literature. Although there are 2000 roots, not more than 200 are in common use. The verb has a number of intricate and perplexing tenses, but in the best Sanskṛit only the simplest forms are employed. The compounding together of words may be carried to an extravagant extreme, but no good writer countenances such excesses*. The missionary need only make good such an acquaintance with the grammar as will enable him to understand any passage in the simpler and more useful departments of the literature. In doing this he will gain a sufficient insight into etymology, and will learn enough to preserve him from the erroneous use of synonyms and metaphors in transferring Sanskṛit words into the vernaculars. His knowledge, in fact, of the structure of Sanskrit and its vocabulary should be exactly what is required to give him perfect command of the spoken dialects; and his acquaintance with the literature should be just what is needed to bring his mind into contact with the native’s, to

* See the Introduction to my edition of ‘ The Story of Nala’ (Oxford University Press, 1860).

enable him to understand its habits of thought and time-honoured memories, to estimate the strength of its bondage, and to discover the common ground on which every Englishman may approach a Hindú and feel alike.

         In translating the Bible *, composing, and preaching, he will have to draw all his religious terms from a Sanskṛit source. It cannot be too often repeated, that if the millions of India are to be enlightened, it must be principally through native instruction conveyed in the vernacular tongues. It is, therefore, a fortunate circumstance that there exists in India an inexhaustible fountain of supply for modern terms of science and theology. Sanskṛit is not merely the key to the dialects as they are at present spoken: it is also the best and most appropriate instrument for purifying and enriching them. Such, indeed, is the exuberance and flexibility of this language and its power of compounding words, that when it has been, so to speak, baptized and thoroughly penetrated with the spirit of Christianity, it will probably be found, next to Hebrew and Greek, the most expressive vehicle of Christian truth. Let the missionary, at the same time, beware of such a use of it in the vernaculars as may tempt

* The completion of a good translation of the Bible into Sanskṛit as a standard for vernacular translations will be a great boon to the missionary. Dr. Carey’s translation was too roughly executed. A translation very superior to his, the laborious work of the Rev. J. Wenger, is nearly completed, the only part wanting being that from Jeremiah to Malachi. The vernacular translations already existing in Hindi, Bengálí, Uriya, Maráthí, Gujaráthí, Tamil, Telugu, Kanarese, and Malayálam, might be much improved from such a source. Too much praise, however, cannot be given to the able and zealous missionaries who have already effected so much in this direction.

him to adopt a style similar to Dr. Johnson’s English,—quite unsuited to plain readers.

In turning his mind to the study of the literature, his attention will probably be confined to works illustrating the principal successive phases of the Hindú religion, such as the hymns of the Veda, the Upanishads, the systems of philosophy (darśanas), Manu, the two heroic poems, and Puráṇas. With regard to the Veda, since portions of it , serve to this day the purpose of a liturgy, both in the domestic and public rites of the Hindús, such portions should, of course, be understood; although, as repeated from memory and not from books, they are difficult to procure. Some of the hymns of the Ṛig-veda should be read, especially the hymn at the end of the second volume of the printed edition, which contains the Gáyatrí, or holy verse, repeated by every Bráhman at his morning and evening devotions. If the text is not within the missionary’s reach, Professor Wilson’s translation may be consulted without difficulty. Few Bráhmans, however, can themselves supply an intelligent explanation of the prayers or hymns they repeat, and the form of the Sanskṛitic is obsolete. Of the greater portion of Vedic literature it may be said, that it is scarcely studied by Hindús more than pre-Wickliffite literature is by Englishmen It would be well, lion – ever, for the reasons before given, that every missionary should give some attention to any one of the, various Upanishads that may be known in the vicinity of his sphere of labour*.

* The principal Upanishads (text and commentary) have been published by Dr. Röer at Calcutta, with English translations.

As to the philosophy, it is absolutely essential he should have a clear idea of the leading features of the Vedánta system. This may be done by the aid of Dr. Ballantyne’s various works and valuable translations*. Still a careful examination of the Vedánta-sútras would be of great advantage; and in some localities, as at Benares, it would be desirable to master the Nyáya and Sánkhya as well as the Vedánta. At Nuddea, the Nyáya should have the preference +. The Bhagavad-gítá, a well known philosophical episode of the Mahá-bhárata, should also be well examined, and its meaning thoroughly sifted++. All Pandits are, more or less, philosophers; and as they are an influential class of men throughout India, the missionary should win their attention, and disarm their animosities, by shewing them that he understands and appreciates their views and attainments.§ If he can quote from philosophical books like the Bhagavad-gítá, his own religious instruction will come with greater weight.

Those most usually read are the Brihad-áraņyaka, the Chhándogya, the Aitareya, Kena, and Kaṭha. See note, p. 2 6.

* The Rev. Thomas Foulkes, of the Church Missionary Society, has lately translated two Tamil works, ‘Eclectic Vedántism’ and ‘ A Synopsis of Hindú systems and sects,’ both of which will be valuable to South-Indian missionaries.

+ See the note, p. 33.

++ This beautiful poem, representing a more developed stage of Vedántism, in which Kṛishņa is identified -with the supreme spirit, is a curious compound of mythological and philosophical rationalism.

§ Mr. Penrose in his Bampton Lectures says, “ Once, at least, in the course of his ministry, St,.Paul addressed himself to a learned, to an Athenian tribunal. He wisely adapted to local circumstances the mode in which he declared the existence of the Supreme. He alluded to a received theology; he quoted a philosophical poet.” Before the millions of India are converted we must expect that the old question will be asked, “Have any of the chief Priests or rulers believed in him ? ”

Many Pandits, to this day, are convinced that religious truth expressed in any of the modern languages is like milk in a dogskin vessel, rendered impure by its vehicle, whereas conveyed in Sanskṛit it is like pure milk in a pure vessel *.

With regard to the Post-Vedic- literature, the code of Manu is written in the simple style of Sanskṛit, and particular portions should be studied. Many of its enactments arc now, however, out of date, and have been superseded or amplified by more modern legal works, of which the code of Yájnavalkya, with its commentary the Mitákshara, is, perhaps, the best known +. The Rámáyaṇa and Mahá-bhárata belong also to the non- unartificial style of composition,

* “ Sanskṛit is looked upon by the Pandits as the medium of learned discussion, just as Latin was by the scholars of Europe, and it has the additional prestige of being considered sacred. The Pandits are an important and influential class, and the conversion of even a few of their number would determine to a great extent the conduct of the other classes of Hindus.” Muir’s Mata-paríkshá, Part II. vii.

+ There are no less than forty-five recognized codes of law besides that of Manu. Yájnavalkya is second in importance to Manu alone, and is the leading authority of the Mithilá school. Its earliest date is fixed by Dr. Röer towards the middle of the 1st century after Christ. Some celebrated law books quoted by Yájnavalkya are those of Angiras, Atri, Ápastamba, Uśanas, Kátyáyana, Gautama, Daksha, Paráśara, Yṛihaspati, Yama, Śankha, Likhita, Vaśishṭha, Vishṇu, Vyása, Śátátapa, Samvarta, and Háríta. Many of Manu’s laws are supposed to have been enacted for the first three ages of the world. In the present sinful age (Kali yug) some things are forbidden which were before allowable; thus, “A damsel once given in marriage must not be given a second time, even if her husband die while she is a virgin”,“ Flesh, meat, and spirituous liquor must be avoided;” “A bull must not be offered in sacrifice;”“ The sea must not be passed in a ship,” &c.

and are most important in their bearing on the present forms of Hindú religious worship*. Unfortunately they are far too long to be read consecutively. Abridged vernacular translations exist, and the originals should be consulted in particular passages. As to the Puráṇas, the Vishṇu-Puráṇa, translated by the late Professor Wilson, gives a good idea of this department of literature. The most important, as we have already shown, is the Bhágavata + A fair knowledge of the most essential part of it (the tenth book) may be acquired from its Hindí paraphrase, the Prem Ságar.

The moral, political, and didactic Ślokas, called Chánakya, current throughout India, containing brief sententious precepts in the proverbial style, often in praise of learning and virtue ++, should be studied by every missionary.

The Rámáyaṇa offers only a few Hindú legends, but they are of ancient date. The Mahá-bhárata is more fertile in fiction, and is evidently the great fountain from which most, if not all, of the Puráṇas have drawn, as it intimates itself when it declares that there is no legend current in the world which has not its origin in the Mahá-bhárata (anáśritya idam ákhyánam kathá bhuvi na vidyate). Wilson’s Vishṇu-Puráṇa, Preface, p. 58.

+ See the third note, p. 29.

++ Some of these verses are good, but many inculcate deceit, revenge and selfishness. Here are a few specimens. “ He is a wise man who looks on his neighbour’s wife as a mother, on his neighbour’s property as a clod of earth, and on all creatures as himself.” “ For a time of adversity it is proper to preserve wealth, which, however, may he expended for the preservation of one’s wife; but one’s personal safety should be secured at the expense of one’s wife and one’s wealth.” “ The use of a wife is to have a son, the use of a son is to perform the funeral ceremony; a friend is requisite to assist in time of need, but money is requisite for all purposes.” “ A man should be kind to some enemy that he may by his assistance he able to kill another, as he would pick out one thorn sticking in his feet by means of another thorn.” Cháṇakya, the Machiavelli of India, was a wily Bráhman, the

Many useful ones will be found scattered through the Hitopadeśa, Manu, the Mahá-bhárata, and Bhartṛi Hari, and a certain number of them might be committed to memory with the greatest advantage. I have thus indicated the extent to which a missionary ought to know Sanskṛit, with a view to command the spoken dialects, and conciliate the affections of the Indian community.

Without such knowledge the truths of Christianity may be powerfully preached, translations of the Bible lavishly distributed, but no permanent influence will be gained, no mutual confidence enjoyed, no real sympathy felt or inspired. Imbued with such knowledge, all Englishmen resident in India, whether clergymen or laymen, might aid the missionary cause more than by controversial discussions or cold donations of rupees. A great Eastern empire has been entrusted to our rule, not to be the theatre of political experiments, nor yet for the sole purpose of extending our commerce, flattering our pride, or increasing our prestige, but that a benighted * population may be enlightened, and every man, woman, and child,

minister of king Chandra-gupta, to whose authorship all straggling political and moral maxims are ascribed, very much as the Vedas and Puráṇas are ascribed to Vyása.

If any one thinks this epithet too strong, let him read Dr. Duff’s statement respecting the educational destitution in Bengal and Belrár, appended to the Report of the Indigo commission (for a copy of which, lately received from Calcutta, I have to thank the President, Mr. W. S. Seton-Karr). It is there shown, that taking Bengal and Behár as a whole, the aggregate average of the school-going juvenile population is no more than 7.75 per cent, leaving 92.25 out of every hundred wholly destitute of all kinds and degrees of instruction whatsoever.

between Cape Comorin and the Himalayas, hear the glad tidings of the Gospel. How, then, have we executed our mission ? Much indeed has been done; but it may be doubted whether much real progress will be made till a more cordial and friendly understanding is established between Christians, Hindus, and Musalmáns, — till the points of contact* between the three religions are

* Notwithstanding its gross polytheism and idolatry, the points of contact between Hindúism and Christianity are more numerous than between Christianity and Islam, and on this account the missionary has always more hold over Hindús than Muhammadans. For example—Hindús are all willing to confess themselves sinful. They acknowledge the necessity of a sacrifice or atonement of some kind, and in point of fact thousands of goats and kids are constantly offered up to their goddess Kálí. They admit the need of a revelation. They arc familiar with the idea of incarnation, and the various Avátars of their god Vishṇu, all point to man’s natural craving for a divine Saviour. The Gáyatrí, a prayer repeated morning and evening by every Bráhman through-out India (see note, p. 15) might with slight alteration be converted into a Christian prayer. Even Vedántism has common ground with Christianity. Bishop Berkeley, who was a good Christian, denied the real existence of external matter independently of impressions made on the mind; and all Christians believe in the ‘vanity’ of what is called ‘the world,’ and the transient nature of temporal concerns, taking care, however, to guard against the Hindú notion that what is transitory and unreal is therefore of no real concern to them. Finally, the well-known dogma of the Vedántist, that God is existence, thought, and bliss,” might be taken by the missionary as a basis on which to rest the assertion of the grandest of all Christian truths, “ God is love.”

With reference to this most important subject I commend to the notice of all missionaries an “ Essay on Conciliation in Matters of Religion” by Dr. Muir, and an able paper in the Benares Magazine for March 1849, “ On the Prospects of India, Intellectual and Religious,” from which, as a fit conclusion, I make the following extract:1 “We will just beg the reader’s attention to the two facts, that a mind can be taught only by means of the knowledge that is already in it; and that a piece of knowledge in any mind— more especially in a mind unfavourably prepossessed—is an obstacle to the reception of any system which, by neglecting to recognise, appears to deny, the truth of that piece of knowledge.

better appreciated, and Englishmen are led to search more candidly for the fragments of truth lying buried under superstition, error, and idolatry.

Whatever in the Hindú systems is a portion of the adamantine truth itself, will only serve to baffle our efforts, if, in ignorant impatience, we attempt to sweep it away along with the rubbish that has encrusted it. What kind of engineer should we think him who, in seeking to raise a beacon on the Goodwin sands, should hesitate to acknowledge as a godsend, any portion of solid rock among the shifting shoals, to which he might rivet one of the stays of his edifice ? When a headstrong opponent of an erroneous doctrine treats with indiscriminate scorn what is true in the doctrine and what is false, he has no right to complain that his arguments against the false are as lightly esteemed as his scorn of the true. We ought to acknowledge with thankfulness everything that we find excellent in the Hindú Sástras, as we welcome every spot of verdure in the desert: and when the Hindús have only halted at a stage far short of that which we ourselves have reached, we should rejoice in being able to present to them our superior knowledge, not in the shape of a contradiction to any thing that is false in their views, but as the legitimate development of what is true.”

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Upahāra

 

 

No Computer for over a month.Last week, Mr. and Mrs Suraphum Pimchaiyaphum donated a new Acer Aspire notebook to replace the old dead one.

ขอให้มีความสุขความเจริญด้วยอายุ วรรณะ สุขะ พละ โภคทรัพย์สมบัติ และบริวารสมบัติ ตลอดไปเทอญ

 

Upahāra [fr. upa + hṛ] bringing forward, present, offering, gift

Anumodana dterr.

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All shook up

You may have seen or joined a monk ordination ceremony in your neighbourhood. In some communities, a monk-to-be may sit on the shoulders of a male relative or friend, on the back of an elephant, a horse or on a plastic chair in the back of a pickup truck for a parade starting from home to the temple.

Source: All shook up

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Ecclesiastical ‘honorific’ title awards in Thai Buddhism.

padyot

Source: https://hydra.hull.ac.uk/assets/hull:4668a/content

A kind of patronage by the political authority of the Sangha is the award of ecclesiastical honorific titles, the Samanasak. สมณศักดิ์ The word samana สมณ here basically refers to the monk or the one who leads the ascetic life. Sak or Sakdi ศักดิ์  means power in the sense of resources or energy. Just as the Sakdina served as a refined index of rank in lay society, Samanasak signifies the rank and status of an individual monk in the Sangha hierarchy.

Thus while the title of Somdet Chaophraya denoted the highest rank, and status of an official in the Sakdina system, the title of Somdet Phrasangharacha สมเด็จพระสังฆราช indicates the highest rank of a monk in the system of Samanasak.

  1. Chitt Phumisak, Chom na Sakdina Thai (Faces of Thai Sakdina ) (Bangkok: Charoenwit, 1975) pp. 182-197.

 

According to Damrong Rachanubhab, Samanasak has been established since the Sukhothai period when the king received this tradition from Ceylon.1 In Sukhothai there appears, to have been a simple hierarchy of Samanasak; Phra Sangharacha, at the top, next to this were Phra khru and Thera respectively.

These Samanasak were conferred upon the monks by the king, in order to give a lasting honor to them in a similar manner to titles given to the Brahmins who served in the court in secular affairs.2

In the Ayudhya period, as a result of Hindu-Khmer influence, the Samanasak system was elaborated. It became obviously tied to administrative  positions within the Sangha. The Samanasak for monks, in descending order of importance were Somdet Phra Sangharacha, Phraracha kana, Phra khru, and Maha Thera.

The Samanasak of Somdet Phra Sangharacha was conferred on the titular head of all monks in the kingdom, i.e. the Supreme Patriarch. Within the Phraracha kana rank, there were different grades.Monks of this rank were either the Sangha governors of major provinces or the abbots of important royal monasteries or both.

The Phra khru holders were assigned to look after the Sangha affairs in lesser provinces and cities.4 The title of Maha Thera was conferred on long-serving monks of good conduct. The Samanasak system has continued, with some revisions and modifications, until today.

  1. Damrong Rachanubhab, Chumnum Niphon keokap Tamnan Phra Phutthasatsana (Collection of Writings on History of Buddhism) (Bangkok: Rungruang Tham, 1971) pp. 164-167.
  2. Ibid.,pp. 167-168.
  3. For details see ibid., pp. 173-175,177-190; and also Prince Dhaniniwat, A History of Buddhism in Siam, (Bangkok: The Siam Society, 1965) pp., 16-17.
  4. Damrong; ibid.

At the present time there are basically four divisions of Samanasak:these are (in descending order of importance) Somdet Phraracha kana, Rong Somdet Phraracha kana,

Phraracha kana, and Phra khru. It is a monk from Somdet Phraracha kana rank who is appointed the Supreme Patriarch (Somdet Phrasangharat) of the Thai Sangha.

Although the Rong Somdet Phraracha kana bears in the title Somdet, he is not of full Somdet status. The Phra racha kana rank is further subdivided into four hierarchical grades or statuses (see Table 1), and there are further distinctions within each of these grades.

The honorific Phra Khru title is awarded by the king and the holder is generally known as Phra khru sanyabat. He is superior to the Phra khru saman, who is appointed by monks of Phra racha kana rank and is generally known as Phra khru Thana nukrom.

The modern ranks, titles, and numbers of Samanasak monks from Phra racha kana upwards are set out in Table 1.

The criteria adopted for selecting recipients for honorific titles have varied through time. The evidence suggests that in the Sukhothai, Ayudhya and early Bangkok periods, competence in ecclesiastical education, knowledge of Dhamma and Buddhist scriptures, and good behavior were the main qualifications for securing honorific titles. 1

Table 1. Ranks and Honorific Titles of Samanasak  Monks

Rank.            Samanasak.                                                                       Number.

1         Somdet Phra Sangharat       สมเด็จพระสังฆราช                          1          1 พระองค์

2         Somdet Phraracha kana    สมเด็จพระราชาคณะ                          8           8 รูป

3         Rong Somdet Phraracha kana   พระราชาคณะเจ้าคณะรอง        23       23 รูป

4        Phraracha kana chan tham   พระราชาคณะชั้นธรรม                   50        50 รูป

5        Phraracha kana chan thep   พระราชาคณะชั้นเทพ                   100       100 รูป

6        Phraracha kana chan rath    พระราชาคณะชั้นราช                     210      210 รูป

7        Phraracha kana chan saman   พระราชาคณะชั้นสามัญ              510      510 รูป

Source: Department of Religious Affairs ‘Tamniab Samanasak (Directory of Samanasak) 5 December 1976.

Today success or achievement in the following areas would contribute significantly toward royal recognition and the award of an honorific title:

“the education of self through success in taking Pali or Thai exams in religious subjects; contributions towards the education of others; a record of social service projects; the ability to inspire laymen in the ‘development areas’ (usually construction of monastery buildings or even secular structures); a reputation for administering one’s monastery as an abbot and for carrying out responsibility well and eagerly; talent in preaching, writing, or even medicine – if such talent creates faith among the people; and, naturally, public respect for living a correct and proper life as a Buddhist monk”.2

A reputation in meditation is also taken into consideration in giving honorific titles to certain monks.

When a title becomes vacant., the Mahatherasamakom considers candidates from the rank or grade below that title,with the advice of the Department of Religious Affairs. When a decision is reached, it is passed through the Minister of Education to the Cabinet and the Prime Minister and thus to the king for ratification.

On the king’s birthday each year, the successful candidates of Phraracha kana upwards, are called to the palace to receive certificates and ceremonial fans from the king or his representative. The certificate indicates the rank and status of a particular monk and involves a change of name for him, the new name usually being chosen to mirror the qualities for which the title is given.

  1. Simon de Loubere, ‘A New Historical Relation of the Kingdom of Siam (London: T. Horne, 1963) p. 115; Damrong, ibid., pp. 194-195.
  1. John P. Ferguson and Shalardchai Ramitanondh, ‘Monks and Hierarchy in Northern Thailand’, in Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 64, part 1 (1976) p. 118.

Associated with Samanasak is the monthly stipend or Nitayapat accorded to the Samanasak holders. 3 The scale of stipend varies with administrative responsibility, and ranges between 50 baht per monthly for Phra khru rank to 1,700 baht for the Supreme Patriarch.

  1. These represented less than 25 per cent of a total Sangha population of approximately 286,838 in 1974,Wat Vachiradhammapadip, Thai Buddhism: “‘Facts and Figures 1970s (New York: 1976) p. 28.
  1. In 1978,40 baht = £ 1. 00 and the average laborer’s wage would be approximately 900 baht per month.

Like the salary of the secular officials, the monks’ stipend has been occasionally improved to keep pace with the increasing cost of living.1 A simplified list of stipends in 1975 is given in Table 2.

Table 2  Stipends of titled and graded monks

Honorific Title              Monthly nithayapat (stipend) in baht

Somdet Phra Sangharat                                     1,700

Somdet Phraracha kana                                     1,500

Phraracha kana (special grade – i. e. Rong Somdet rank) 320-340 Phraracha kana chan tham                                   300

Phraracha kana chan thep,                                      280

Phraracha kana chan rath                                        260

Phraracha kana chan saman                           140-240

Phra kru                                                                 50-140

Monk who attained barian grade 9                         160

Source: Department of Religious Affairs; Thaleangkan kana song (Announcement of the Sangha), Vol. 63, – part 6, 25 June 1975, pp. 11-19; for fuller details of classifications of monthly stipend for Samanasak monks who are at the same time officials in the Sangha administration, See:’Banchee attra nithayapat phra Samanasak, lae Phra Sanghathikan

(Scale of Stipends for Samanasak monks and monk-officials).. Official Document of Department of Religious Affairs, dated 2010.(2554 B.E)

See Source: http://www.onab.go.th/attachments/690_AccNitaya54.pdf

Also noteworthy is the fact that those monks who are stationed in provinces that are considered kandan(hardship or remote posts) are given an additional allowance (bia kandan), an arrangement that follows the practice for government officials.

Table 3 shows the relationship between honorific titles and the  administrative hierarchy.

table3
This table is based on: Department. of Religious Affairs ; Phathithin Satsana:B.E .2520 (Religious calendar 1977)and Tamniab Samanasak B.E. 2519 (Directory of Honorific Titles 1976) .

A monk of Phraracha kana rank and upwards is empowered to appoint personal assistants, the number depending on both his honorific rank and administrative position in the Sangha hierarchy,see Table 4. He can confer upon them the title of Phra khru with a further title affixed to signify their functions.

Table 4  Samanasak ranks and assistants

Samanasak ranks                                 Number of Assistants

The Supreme Patriarch                                              15

Phraracha kana of Somdet rank                              10

Rong Somdet Phraracha kana                                   8

Phraracha kana chan tham                                        6

Phraracha kana chan thep                                         4

Phraracha kana of rath and saman grade               3

Based on information acquired from Phra Maha Pheera Suchatho of Wat Buddhapadip., London.

        The ceremonial fan (Pat Yot) reveals by its shape, color, and design to an informed observer the rank, status and honor of its owner.1 Furthermore, it is only used at royal ceremonies (Ratcha phithi) and at state ceremonies (Phithi Luang). At such a ceremony, the monks sit in order depending on the rank their fan represents, not according to their rank in administrative system., and not by seniority. 2

These Samanasak monks are invited to officiate and perform at royal and state ceremonies more often than the monks without honorific titles. The more important the ceremony, the higher the rank of the monks invited. As such, the opportunity for the Samanasak monks to establish contact or connection with the secular establishment  (king or government officials) is greater than for the rank-and-file monks. Materially, the gifts given at the royal and state ceremonies are usually better in both quality and quantity than the ones received in a private ceremony.

  1. For the elaboration of the categories of ceremonial fans see: Department of Religious Affairs, Phathithin Satsana(Religious Calendar) (Bangkok: 1977) pp. 265-280; also Damrong., op. cit., pp. 201-203.
  1. For details of the seating arrangement for monks of different ranks and grades at a ceremony, see: Phra Kawiworayan, Anachak Song Thai (The Thai Sangha Domain) (Bangkok: Thai Baebrian,, 1963) pp. 204-205.

 

The ceremonial fans พัดยศสมณศักดิ์  reveals  the rank, status and honor of its owner.

สมเด็จพระสังฆราช    

 Somdet Phrasangkharat

  1. สมเด็จพระสังฆราชเจ้า Somdet phrasangkharat chao
  2. สมเด็จพระสังฆราช Somdet phrasangkharat

พัดยศสมเด็จพระสังฆราช

  1. สมเด็จพระราชาคณะ ชั้นสุพรรณบัฏ

พระราชาคณะ     phrarachakhana

  1. พระราชาคณะ เจ้าคณะรอง ชั้นหิรัญบัฏ

phraracha khana chaokhana rong

(เดิมเรียกว่ารองสมเด็จพระราชาคณะ)

addressed as rong somdet phraracha khana

พระราชาคณะ เจ้าคณะรอง ชั้นหิรัญบัฏ

ansPic_1953_1

  1. พระราชาคณะเทียบรองสมเด็จพระราชาคณะ

phraracha khana thiap rong somdet phraracha khana

(ปัจจุบันถูกยกเลิกไปแล้ว) (to date; use abandoned)

  1. พระราชาคณะชั้นธรรม phraracha khana chan tham

ansPic_1954_1

  1. พระราชาคณะชั้นเทพ phraracha khana chan thep

ansPic_1957_2

8. พระราชาคณะชั้นราช  phraracha khana chan rat

ansPic_1958_2

  1. พระราชาคณะชั้นสามัญ phraracha khana chan saman

ansPic_1959_2

– พระราชาคณะปลัดขวา-ปลัดซ้าย-ปลัดกลาง

phraracha khana palat khwa(right) – palat sai(left) – palat klang(middle)

(พระสมุหวรคณิสสรสิทธิการ   วัดพระเชตุพนฯ เป็นพระปลัดกลาง รูปแรก)

phra samuha won khanit son sitthi kan wat phra chetuphon  pen phra palat klang rup raek

– พระราชาคณะ รองเจ้าคณะภาค   phraracha khana rong chaokhana phak

– พระราชาคณะ เจ้าคณะจังหวัด phraracha khana chaokhana changwat

– พระราชาคณะ รองเจ้าคณะจังหวัด  phraracha khana rong chaokhana changwat

– พระราชาคณะชั้นสามัญเปรียญ ฝ่ายวิปัสสนาธุระ

phraracha khana chan saman parian fai wipatsana thura

– พระราชาคณะชั้นสามัญเปรียญ ป.ธ.9 – ป.ธ.8 – ป.ธ.7 – ป.ธ.6 – ป.ธ.5 – ป.ธ.4 – ป.ธ.3

phraracha khana chan saman parian potho 9 – potho 8 – potho 7 – potho 6 – potho 5 – potho 4 – potho 3

05

– พระราชาคณะชั้นสามัญเทียบเปรียญ ฝ่ายวิปัสสนาธุระ

phraracha khana chan saman thiap parian fai vipassana thura

พระราชาคณะชั้นสามัญเทียบเปรียญ

– phraracha khana chan saman thiap parian

– พระราชาคณะชั้นสามัญยกฝ่าย วิปัสสนาธุระ

phraracha khana chan saman yok fai vipassana thura

– พระราชาคณะชั้นสามัญยก phraracha khana chan saman yok

 

ระครูสัญญาบัตร  phrakhru sanyabat

  1. พระครูสัญญาบัตร เจ้าคณะจังหวัด (จจ.)

phrakhru sanyabat chaokhana changwat ( cho- cho )

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  1. พระครูสัญญาบัตร รองเจ้าคณะจังหวัด (รจจ.)

phrakhru sanyabat rong chaokhana changwat ( ro cha cho )

598873_220802284728275_1939022873_n

พระครูสัญญาบัตร  phrakhru sanyabat

 

  1. พระครูสัญญาบัตร เจ้าอาวาสพระอารามหลวง ชั้นเอก (จล.ชอ.)

phrakhru sanyabat chao-awat phra aram luang chan ek

( cho lo cho or)

ansPic_1970_1

  1. พระครูสัญญาบัตร เจ้าคณะอำเภอ ชั้นพิเศษ (จอ.ชพ.)

phrakhru sanyabat chaokhana amphoe chan phiset (cho or cho pho)

ansPic_1975_1b5006_220-20copy20-20copy_639740ef516da3d9434dee14e7fbbecf

  1. พระครูสัญญาบัตร เทียบพระครูสัญญาบัตรเจ้าคณะอำเภอ ชั้นพิเศษ (ทจอ.ชพ.)

phrakhru sanyabat thiap phrakhru sanyabat chaokhana amphoe chan phiset ( tho cho or cho pho )

 

  1. พระครูปลัดของสมเด็จพระราชาคณะ

phrakhru palat khong somdet phraracha khana

ansPic_1961_1

 

  1. พระเปรียญธรรม 9 ประโยค phra parian tham 9 prayok

ansPic_1984_1

  1. พระครูสัญญาบัตร เจ้าอาวาสพระอารามหลวง ชั้นโท (จล.ชท.)

phrakhru sanyabat chao-awat phra aram luang chan tho ( cho lo cho tho )

ansPic_1970_2

  1. พระครูสัญญาบัตร เจ้าคณะอำเภอ ชั้นเอก (จอ.ชอ.)

phrakhru sanyabat chaokhana amphoe chan ek ( cho or cho or )

  1. พระครูสัญญาบัตร เทียบพระครูสัญญาบัตรเจ้าคณะอำเภอ ชั้นเอก (ทจอ.ชอ.)

phrakhru sanyabat thiap phrakhru sanyabat chaokhana amphoe chan ek

( tho cho or cho or )

 

  1. พระครูสัญญาบัตร เจ้าอาวาสพระอารามหลวง ชั้นตรี (จล.ชต.)

phrakhru sanyabat chao-awat phra aram luang chan tri ( cho lo cho to )

ansPic_1971_1

  1. พระครูสัญญาบัตร เจ้าคณะอำเภอ ชั้นโท (จอ.ชท.)

phrakhru sanyabat chaokhana amphoe chan tho ( cho or cho tho)

  1. พระครูสัญญาบัตร รองเจ้าอาวาสพระอารามหลวง ชั้นเอก (รจล.ชอ.)

phrakhru sanyabat rong chao-awat phra aram luang chan ek ( ro cho lo cho or )

ansPic_1971_2

  1. พระครูสัญญาบัตร รองเจ้าอาวาสพระอารามหลวง ชั้นโท (รจล.ชท.)

phrakhru sanyabat rong chao-awat phra aram luang chan tho ( ro cho lo cho tho )

 

  1. พระครูสัญญาบัตร รองเจ้าอาวาสพระอารามหลวง ชั้นตรี (รจล.ชต.)

phrakhru sanyabat rong chao-awat phra aram luang chan tri ( ro cho lo cho to )

72368_220802374728266_935395058_nb5008_220-20copy_3f13a0fabeb94f3d28dc13c1b45265ad

  1. พระครูสัญญาบัตร ผู้ช่วยเจ้าอาวาสพระอารามหลวง ชั้นพิเศษ หรือเทียบเท่า (ผจล.ชพ. หรือ ทผจล.ชพ.)

phrakhru sanyabat phuchuai chao-awat phra aram luang chan phiset rue thiapthao (pho  cho lo cho pho reu

 

  1. พระครูสัญญาบัตร ผู้ช่วยเจ้าอาวาสพระอารามหลวง ชั้นเอก ฝ่ายวิปัสสนาธุระ หรือเทียบเท่า(ผจล.ชอ.วิ. หรือ ทผจล.ชอ.วิ.)

phrakhru sanyabat phuchuai chao-awat phra aram luang chan ek fai vipassana thura rue thiapthao (pho cho lo cho vi reu   )

522574_220801504728353_1636186557_n

  1. พระครูสัญญาบัตร ผู้ช่วยเจ้าอาวาสพระอารามหลวง ชั้นเอก หรือเทียบเท่า (ผจล.ชอ. หรือ ทผจล.ชอ.)

phrakhru sanyabat phuchuai chao-awat phra aram luang chan ek rue thiapthao (pho cho lo cho or )

 

  1. พระครูปลัดของพระราชาคณะ เจ้าคณะรอง ชั้นหิรัญบัฏ

phrakhru palat khong phraracha khana chaokhana rong chan hiranbat

 

  1. พระครูปลัดของพระราชาคณะ เจ้าคณะรอง ชั้นสัญญาบัตร

phrakhru palat khong phraracha khana chaokhana rong chan sanyabat

 

  1. พระครูฐานานุกรมชั้นเอกของสมเด็จพระสังฆราช

phrakhru thananukrom chan ek khong somdet phrasangkharat

 

  1. พระเปรียญธรรม 8 ประโยค phra parian tham 8 prayok

426451_220802184728285_2081923455_n

  1. พระครูสัญญาบัตร ผู้ช่วยเจ้าอาวาสพระอารามหลวง ชั้นโท หรือเทียบเท่า (ผจล.ชท. หรือทผจล.ชท.)

phrakhru sanyabat phuchuai chao-awat phra aram luang chan tho rue thiap thao ( pho cho lo cho tho )

417480_220802314728272_214923064_n

  1. พระเปรียญธรรม 7 ประโยค phra parian tham 7 prayok

576131_220802021394968_1378553739_n

  1. พระครูปลัดของพระราชาคณะ ชั้นธรรม

phrakhru palat khong phraracha khana chan tham

576072_220802061394964_287152224_n

  1. พระครูฐานานุกรมชั้นโท ของสมเด็จพระสังฆราช (พระครูปริต)

phrakhru thananukrom chan tho khong somdetphrasangkharat ( phrakhru parit )

ansPic_1964_1ek?

 

  1. พระครูสัญญาบัตร รองเจ้าคณะอำเภอ ชั้นเอก (รจอ.ชอ.)

phrakhru sanyabat rong chaokhana amphoe chan ek ( ro cho or cho or )

549789_220801991394971_1998694836_nansPic_1976_2b5007_2201_769eb70e8fcbf8214afbb565d8c42bbe

 

  1. พระครูสัญญาบัตร รองเจ้าคณะอำเภอ ชั้นโท (รจอ.ชท.)

phrakhru sanyabat rong chaokhana amphoe chan tho ( ro cho or cho tho )

ansPic_1977_1

  1. พระครูสัญญาบัตร เจ้าคณะตำบล ชั้นเอก ฝ่ายวิปัสสนาธุระ (จต.ชอ.วิ.)

phrakhru sanyabat chaokhana tambon chan ek fai wipatsana thura (cho to cho or wi )

549833_220802091394961_231810448_n

  1. พระครูสัญญาบัตร เจ้าคณะตำบล ชั้นเอก (จต.ชอ.)

phrakhru sanyabat chaokhana tambon chan ek ( cho to cho or )

ansPic_1978_1b5005_220-20copy_507689c7552d8d8309ce4b5b31639f08

  1. พระครูสัญญาบัตร เจ้าคณะตำบล ชั้นโท (จต.ชท.)

phrakhru sanyabat chaokhana tambon chan tho ( cho to cho tho )

ansPic_1978_2

41.พระครูสัญญาบัตร เจ้าคณะตำบล ชั้นตรี (จต.ชต.)

phrakhru sanyabat chaokhana tambon chan tri ( cho to cho to )

  1. พระครูสัญญาบัตร เจ้าอาวาสวัดราษฎร์ ชั้นเอก (จร.ชอ.)

phrakhru sanyabat chao-awat watrat chan ek ( cho ro  cho or )

ansPic_1980_1

  1. พระครูสัญญาบัตร เจ้าอาวาสวัดราษฎร์ ชั้นโท ฝ่ายวิปัสสนาธุระ (จร.ชท.วิ.)

phrakhru sanyabat chao-awat watrat chan tho fai wipatsana thura (cho ro cho tho wi )

 

  1. พระครูสัญญาบัตร เจ้าอาวาสวัดราษฎร์ ชั้นโท (จร.ชท.)

phrakhru sanyabat chao-awat watrat chan tho (cho ro cho tho )

ansPic_1980_2

  1. พระครูสัญญาบัตร เจ้าอาวาสวัดราษฎร์ ชั้นตรี (จร.ชต.)

phrakhru sanyabat chao-awat watrat chan tri ( cho ro cho to )

ansPic_1981_1

  1. พระครูสัญญาบัตร รองเจ้าอาวาสวัดราษฎร์ (รจร.)

phrakhru sanyabat rong chao-awat watrat ( ro cho ro )

ansPic_1982_1

  1. พระครูสัญญาบัตร ผู้ช่วยเจ้าอาวาสวัดราษฎร์ (ผจร.)

phrakhru sanyabat phuchuai chao-awat watrat ( pho cho ro )

ansPic_1982_2

  1. พระเปรียญธรรม 6 ประโยค phra parian tham 6 prayok

602048_220801934728310_984660964_n

  1. พระเปรียญธรรม 5 ประโยค phra parian tham 5 prayok

384074_220801954728308_100693423_n

  1. พระครูปลัดของพระราชาคณะ ชั้นเทพ

phrakhru palat khong phraracha khana chan thep

67307_220802128061624_522118576_n (1)

  1. พระครูปลัดของพระราชาคณะ ชั้นราช

phrakhru palat khong phraracha khana chan rat

735137_220802238061613_1596973173_n

  1. พระครูวินัยธร phrakhru vinaython

ansPic_1964_2735191_220801474728356_581300005_n

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

53. พระครูธรรมธร phrakhru tham thon

ansPic_1964_2

 

  1. พระครูคู่สวด phrakhru khusuat

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  1. พระเปรียญธรรม 4 ประโยค phra parian tham 4 prayok

481100_220802118061625_616031226_n

  1. พระปลัดของพระราชาคณะ ชั้นสามัญ

phra palat khong phrarachakhana chan saman

  1. พระเปรียญธรรม 3 ประโยค phra parian tham 3 prayok

ansPic_1983_1

  1. พระครูรองคู่สวด phrakhru rong khusuat
  1. พระครูสังฆรักษ์ phrakhru sangkha rak

482858_220802074728296_1941777484_n

59a. พระครูปริตรามัญ phrakhru parit raman

 

  1. พระครูสมุห์ phrakhru samu

พระครูฐานานุกรมพระครูสมุห์

ansPic_1967_1

  1. พระครูใบฎีกา phrakhru baidika

พระครูฐานานุกรมพระครูใบฎีกา

ansPic_1967_2

  1. พระวินัยธร phra vinaython

 

  1. พระธรรมธร phra tham thon

 

  1. พระสมุห์ phra samu

พระฐานานุกรมพระสมุห์

ansPic_1967_1

  1. พระใบฎีกา phra baidika

พระฐานานุกรมพระใบฎีกา

ansPic_1967_2

  1. พระพิธีธรรม phra phithitham

 

  1. พระครูประทวนสมณศักดิ์ สมเด็จพระสังฆราชทรงมีพระบัญชาแต่งตั้ง

phrakhru prathuan samanasak somdetphrasangkharat song mi phra bancha (appointed)

 

 

 

continues…

 

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Gods of India.

1

COPY IN WOOD OF THE BHUDDER MOSQUE WINDOW AT AHMADABAD, MADE BY THE WORKMEN OF LOCKWOOD OF DE FOREST IN INDIA. NOW IN SO๊UTH KENSINGTON MUSEUM, LONDON, SIZE 7.5 X 12 FEET. (ILLUSTRATION OF THE WONDERFUL TRACERY OF THE EARLIEST MOHAMMEDAN PERIOD AS WORKED OUT BY THE HINDU WORKMEN.)

GODS OF INDIA.

Not many countries have been kept alive in the imagination of mankind so long as India by a few stereotyped phrases, mainly the inventions of extravagantly enthusiastic poets attempting to describe scenes they never saw. The way educated people talk of the gorgeous East, of lotus-flowers and pearl-divers, of yogis and Buddha and the car of Juggernaut, shows that the world at large still believes India to be a wonderland—to be peopled with jugglers, fairies, or white-robed priests, according to the fancy of the individual.
The fact is that India has no history worth mentioning until the time of the Mohammedan conquest. There is nothing to take hold of, nothing that the most ingenious schoolmaster can find to teach; and it is therefore not unnatural that most people know so little about the country. All that is to be known is obtained from the study of Sanskrit texts, embracing works of philosophy, poetry, mathematics, and religion,— comparatively few of which have been translated into European languages,— and from observation of such monuments as an art-loving race of men have reared to testify to their faith in God, or to their reverence for the dead.
India has served many gods, and the monuments raised in their honor are countless. It appears to be generally believed at the present day that the religion of India is Buddhism. How this common impression gained ground it is hard to say. When Sir Edwin Arnold published “The Light of Asia,” he did not think it necessary to state that Gautama the Master had no longer any following in the country which witnessed his birth and holy life; but Sir Ed­win’s book produced a religious revival, or something very like it, among a certain class of semi-intelligent readers who are continually foraging for some new tidbit of religion with which to tickle the dull sense of their immortality into a relish for heaven.
There are no Buddhists in India. There are many in Ceylon, and there is a sect of them in Nepal, an independent territory to the north, on the borders of Buddhistic Tibet. The religion vanished from India in the early centuries of the Christian era. The neo-Brahmans set up anti-Buddhas, so to speak, in the figures of Krishna, Mahadeva, and Rama — demigods and idols of the great neo-Brahmanic religions, Vishnu-worship and Siva-worship; and these swept everything else before them until the Mohammedan conquest; and at the present day, in one shape or another, these forms of belief are adhered to by five sixths of the population, the remainder being Mussulmans. The Buddhists are gone, though not without leaving behind them a rich legacy of philosophic thought, and many monuments of their artistic genius.
So far as we have any means of judging, the Buddhists were the first builders and hewers of stone in India. Out of something like one thou­sand temples and monasteries hewn out underground in the solid rock, at least eight hundred, and these the most ancient, are indubitably Buddhistic, and all the most ancient and im­posing ruins bear the same sign manual. It is a hopeless task in our present state of informa­tion, to seek to ascertain whence they derived the first principles of their architecture, from Egyptian, Assyrian, or Chaldee. Every observer is free to make his own conjectures, and, for myself, I confess that the massive square architecture, the broad frieze, and the ranks of stout, well-made pillars, which characterize the pure Hindu temple, always suggest most strongly a connection with Egyptian art. As for the exceedingly rich carving and high relief work which contrast with the flat stone engraving of Egypt, they are easily accounted for by the difference of material. It is easy enough to cut -the most elaborate ornaments out of brown sandstone and soft white marble — quite another thing from working in that marvelous granite which defies ages, and can almost defy the sand-blast of the desert.

That these temples, first raised and wrought to the honor and glory of a very’ pure religion, should have become necessarily the habitation of all sorts and conditions of gods, is not altogether surprising. The same thing has occurred elsewhere, and many a Roman church is built on the foundations of a heathen temple; not a few are altogether temples, such as the temple of Hercules in Rome. It is the tendency of religions to begin by utilizing the machinery’ left by their predecessors, and the Hindu sects were no exception to the rule. It would be beyond the province of such a paper as the present to trace, or give a synopsis of, the religions of India. We have to do with gods, little gods and great gods, and their habitations. Some of the little gods are very amusing, and some of the great ones are very horrible; if we laugh at Rama and the monkeys, we must shudder at great clumsy Jagannāth, or Juggernaut,as he is generally called, whose name means the “ lord of the world,” and beneath whose roof all sects of neo-Brahmans join hands, and are ready to die in protest of his supremacy. The Buddhism of the people who first hewed temples and monasteries out of the solid rock would have been outraged at the idea of worshiping an idol, but not many centuries elapsed before the image of the prophet was set up in the sanctuary, cross-legged and adorned with jewels, for adoration. Even before the image was worshiped there were symbols in use — the wheel of the law, the Bodhi-tree (that is, the tree under which a man by contemplation did become a perfect Buddha), and the dagoba, or dome, originally intended for relics.

2

21

So, when the neo-Brahmans, descendants of those Brahmans whom Gautama Buddha had vanquished, once more came forward with a religion to offer, more sensual, more miracle­working, and far more adorned with legend and myth, song and tale, than the exclusive monastic belief to which Buddhism had grown, they found the people ready enough to turn the image of Buddha into an image of Siva, and to build holy places for Rama the monkey-lover on the foundations where the sanctuaries of monastic faith and learning had before stood. For the chief of Buddhist institutions was the monastery,and in no Catholic country have the mendicant and priestly orders ever flourished in such numbers, in such wealth, or in such power, as they did in India during the eight or nine hundred years which elapsed from the rise to the extinction of Buddhism. The monks took the vows of poverty and mendicancy as indi­viduals, but the order,as a body,owned vast es­tates, magnificent buildings, and untold riches. Their error lay in severing themselves too much from the people, in making their religion too abstract for popular comprehension, in leading lives which were too secluded to admit of any breadth of view, and too well provided with good tilings for any great intellectual activity. They have left but little behind them worthy to be ranked as literature. On the other hand, tile doctrines and the whole mode of thought of their founder took such hold upon the peo­ple that, centuries after the total extinction of his religion, his ideas—his modus percipiendi — are found underlying the literature, the social contracts, and the daily lives of Vishnavite and Sivaite, Jain and yogi; in a word, his tenets have more or less influenced the fundamental dogmas of the many forms of religion and philosophy which have followed upon his, and upon one another. It requires, however, patient study and long reading, with not a little knowledge of reason-history in general, to trace the teachings of the gentle Gautama in the vast sea of spec­ulation commonly termed Hindu philosophy. On the other hand, it needs little insight to see, even in such buildings as the devotion of mod­em believers has reared within our lifetime to the honor of its gods, that, it was the early Budd­hist mason whose master hand laid the corner­stone of Hindu architecture once and forever. The symbols have changed, and the elaborate frieze of carved stone no longer bears the wheel and the pagoda, or the figures of Buddha him­self, riding on many kinds of beasts, bestowing the benediction with his raised hand. Instead, there are images of gods and goddesses, Kali or Durga, Ganesha with the elephant trunk, Mahadeva, Rama, Lakshmi, and all the three hundred and sixty other deities of the Hindu calendar: there are animals and living things

3

ROCKCUT TEMPLE, ELLORA.

of all kinds except fish, for the fish are accursed. There are all manner of designs grotesque and strange, but interwoven with a richness and skill of which even the finest illustration can give no adequate idea, the little figures and images being executed in as high relief as ever adorned the Lombard Gothic churches with choirs of stone angels and cherubim.
But, in spite of all this ornamentation, the fundamental lines are Buddhist and Buddhist only. The sturdy columns, constantly alternating between the smooth, the fluted, the beveled, and the spiral ; the broad capitals, of which the carved curtain falls sometimes a third of the way down the pillar; the imposing steps; the system of chambers and antechambers; and lastly the shrine itself— all these things are found closely defined in the early rock temples, hewn and dug out of the solid stone, the columns carved out of the mass, and never severed from the architrave they support. One hand is visible in all this, and one inspiring genius, creating a school of architecture which even in the Mor­esque style of the later buildings of the Mohammedan conquest is not wholly lost. The Moslems brought with them their pointed arches and graceful traceries, their minarets and their domes, introducing a style wholly foreign to the spirit of Indian art; but even the intense vitality of the conquering school has not withstood the temptation to make use of Hindu details of ornamentation, while maintaining the plan and principal features of a foreign architecture.
The Hindus were not acquainted with the arch before the Moslem conquest, and the pure Indian style is as remarkable for its flat roofing and square doors as the Egyptian or the Greek, whereas the Mohammedan carries with him his love for the tall springing vault and pointed gateway. Even in the Rani Lepre mosque at Ahmedabad, with its flat roof and square pillars, there is a pointed door on one side, and the panels of stone tracery are of the pointed model.
The other distinguishing feature of Hindu architecture, and one which is never to be mistaken, is the representation in sculpture of men and animals, and, generally, of sentient beings. The Moslems, like the Jews, were commanded not to make images of anything in heaven or in earth, and Mohammed added, “ Therefore, if ye must make images, make images of things which have no souls, such as trees or plants.” His Sunnite followers have never transgressed this rule, and their friezes and capitals and paneling are either in geometrical patterns, or are ornamented with symmetrically twined boughs and leaves. i
The Hindu, on the other hand, never loses an opportunity of introducing gods, elephants, tigers, horses, and birds—anything living that he can think of except fish; for fish have no souls, and the believer in the transmigration of the spirit eats fish with impunity, though he would die rather than eat beef, and has religious scruples about game.
The Buddhists themselves set the fashion of carving human and other figures in their friezes and capitals. These carvings are found even in the rock temples, and were probably introduced before the worship degenerated into an idolatrous adoration of the image of Buddha, set up in the inner shrine. The symbols of Buddhism are found represented in every way in these friezes. The wheel of the law is formed sometimes by a string of figures, alternately male and female, joining hands, and dancing in a circle. The dagoba, or dome, of the relics is commonly pictured in the conical umbrella which a servant carries after the mounted figure of Buddha, and the leaves and branches of the sacred fig-tree (Ficus religiosa) are trained and intertwined in the tracery. Buddha is represented as riding upon a hare,-an elephant, an ass,and even upon a man’s shoulders, and the multitudes of his disciples and attendants complete the train of sculptured reliefs.
The gods of India are everywhere, and yet they seem to be nowhere. The religion has been one long winter of discontent; one prolonged struggle on the part of the people to worship many gods under many shapes, while always on the point of believing in one single divine essence as the cause and creator of all things; a hand to hand fight between polytheism and monotheism, in which the priests have continually endeavored to play the part of conciliators. Vishnu and Siva are now the chief contending parties, and the priests have tried to make them agree by adding a third supreme deity in the shape of Brahma. Of this fact ingenious searchers after collateral evidence for Christianity have made capital, saying that Brahma, Vishnu, and Siva are inseparable, and that the Hindus are evidently in possession of the dogma of the Trinity. As a matter of fact, this is pure nonsense, and contains as much truth as the parallels that have been drawn between Christ and Buddha, Christ and Krishna, Napoleon the Great and Apollo. Archbishop Whately, in his great squib, showed once and for all the absurdity of such demonstrations.
It is now well established that the priests conceived the idea of adding a third deity to the two conflicting ones, with a view to reconciling the existing religions ; and, finding one in­sufficient, they did not scruple to add a fourth in the person of Krishna, thereby destroying the idea of a trinity at a blow.
There are, then, two great Hindu religions, the Vishnavite, and the Sivaite, Vishnu is a pure solar deity, and appears as such in the Vedic hymns. He descends to earth in a va­riety of incarnations, or avatars, as they are called. His last incarnation — generally reck­oned as the seventh — was in the form of Krishna, though in the south many Hindus consider Gautama Buddha to have been the sun-god appearing once more in the flesh. As regards the modern religion of Vishnu, however, his embodiment as Krishna is by far the most important; for it was Krishna whom the Brahmans held up to the people to attract by the grossly sensual rites and ceremonies of his worship, when the contemplative monastic system of the Buddhists had grown too exclusive in its observances, and too transcendental in its beliefs, to suit the popular taste any longer. In the great epic poem called the“ Mahabharata,” a work consisting of about three hundred thousand verses, and which describes the struggle between the sons of Pandu and the sons of Dhritarashtra, Krishna plays a very important part, although the principal religion described m that poem is rather Sivaite than Vishnavite. When he had subsequently become a deity, the five sons of Pandu were also worshiped, not to mention a considerable number of Krishna’s wives, themselves considered to have been but the incarnations of female dei­ties. All these are taken and introduced into the Vishnavite religion as divine beings.
Furthermore, there is the incarnation of Vishnu as Rama, again with a divine wife, who is carried off by the king of the demons to Ceylon, whence Rama rescues her by the aid of the monkeys, and their king and chief minister, Sugreva and Hanuman. Rama, his wife Sita, the monkeys,and whosoever, in the great legend of the Ramayana, fought on Rama’s side, are all adopted into the Vishnavite religion, and worshiped to this day—so that in Benares, a holy city especially sacred to Rama, the monkeys run wild in vast numbers, and no man dares interfere with them, though they come to his table, and help themselves to his food unbidden. I remember seeing, many years ago, in a newspaper published near Benares, a long letter from some native less orthodox than the rest, complaining bitterly of the torment he suffered from the monkeys walking in and out of his house at all hours of the day; and imploring the edi­tor to use his influence in getting the police to “ arrest” these trespassers.
Such is the Vishnavite religion—a huge pantheon in which are collected all gods, demigods, heroes, and animals that can by any stretch of reasoning or tradition be said to have any connection whatsoever with Vishnu; besides, as the two great religions are in practice very tolerant of each other, though theoretically at variance, it is not uncommon to find the gods of Siva’s cycle attracted over to Vishnu, and the converse.
As for Siva, he differs fundamentally from Vishnu in that he has not passed through a variety of incarnations, but makes up the deficiency by keeping a number of gods constantly at his beck and call. He has, indeed,many forms, for, as he is alone in his supremacy, he is alternately god of peace and god of war, god of growths and god of destruction. Moreover, he is constantly associated with Vishnu, and the two with Brahma, and again with Krishna. Generally speaking, all sects of  worshipers are Sivaites, and those who sacrifice any living thing to idols — a practice, however, which is very rare at the present day. Siva is of an older conception than Vishnu, and more nearly resembles Indra, the Vedic supreme god, with his hosts of spirits and subordinated gods. Siva commands Skanda, the god of war; Visabhadra, the divinity of warlike rage and frenzy : Kuvera, the god of treasure; Ganesha, the intelligent, with the head of an elephant, and to whom an invocation is set at the head of many Hindu books, “ Honor to the blessed Gane­sha”; and Siva is attended by hosts of yakskas and spirits of all sorts. Siva and his minor gods, then, compose a second pantheon as extensive and as well-filled as that of Vishnu.
Add to these two the priestly conception of Brahma as associated with both, by which aggregation all the multifarious shapes of divinity and varieties of worship are by one exequatur made legitimate, orthodox, and conducive to salvation; add, moreover, the doctrine of the Vedanta, which is as much of a catechism as can be said to exist in India, and which shows that there is only one supreme being vaguely represented by the demonstrative pronoun “ that,” all else being but vanity, and the result of illusion ; then superimpose the universal doctrine of the transmigration of the soul—and the confusion is complete.
Under these circumstances, objects the intelligent foreigner, in the face of a celestial army outnumbering the population of the globe, and of an extremely irascible temper, what po­sition does the ordinary Hindu assume ? He shifts his responsibility. He goes to a guru, a master in religious matters, and having selected some especial divinity from the heavenly host, he is taught a mantra, a mystic text for meditation, which he keeps secret, and repeats to himself during his ablutions, morning and evening. By this text he invokes his special divinity whenever he is in need of help during life, and when he is dying; but this devotion does not prevent him from accepting the supremacy of the divine essence taught in the catechism of the Vedantasara, nor from acknowledging the importance of all the other divinities in his own pantheon, and admitting that those of the Vishnavites if he is a Sivaite, or of the Sivaites if he follows Vishnu, are entitled to consideration. But he hopes that his own divinity will take care of him and in the day of judgment, at the hour of death,– in horā mortis et in die judicii –and he believes that it is possible by a pure life and devout contemplation, to become so identified with the divine essence aforesaid, as to escape the metensomatosis, or change of body, and to enjoy an immense period of blissful un­consciousness, or of happy rest, in complete independence of the three hundred — or three hundred thousand —gods and goddesses who rule over the earth.
As for the educated people, principally the Brahmans, if questioned in a friendly way, and led on to speak their mind, they will generally admit that they believe in one supreme being, and in various states of life, but that the pan­theons of Vishnu and Siva are the creations of an ingenious fancy. They conform, indeed, to the outward requirements of some religion, but they are inclined to put their faith in the monotheism of the Vedic hymns, and to re­gard the rest as a superstructure.
It has been much the fashion to speak of the grand simplicity and primeval single-hearted­ness of the Vedic religion, and to regard it as the unadulterated faith of a pastoral people. Grand those hymns are beyond a doubt, and they breathe a high belief in a single supreme God, though abounding with allegory and simile taken from the manifestations of nature’s forces. But simple they cannot be called, nor does it seem possible that they can have been composed by a people in any true sense primitive. The language is complex, and the imagery often highly artificial, while meters of great variety are kept perfectly distinct, and never confused. It was in every sense an intricate religion, and it is more than probable that it was never the religion of the people, who most likely followed a form of Vishnavism or Sivaism. Both Vishnu and Siva appear in the hymns, and the former, as the sun-god, is sometimes spoken of as su­preme, while Siva generally occupies a subordinate position. _
In countries where people live much in the open air, dress simply when they dress at all, and eat what they can get, it requires little effort of imagination or still of pen to make them seem as primitive as one pleases. As a matter of fact, where it is very easy to live, or, at least, where little thought or labor is requisite to obtain the means of living, a nation endowed with any natural activity is very likely to devote its energies to intellectual pursuits; and the result is sure to be a state of national thought which, in despite of scanty clothing, and rice for breakfast, dinner, and supper, will turn out the very reverse of primitive. India is such a country, and, so far as the Aryans are concerned, always has been. What it was before the Aryan conquest we have no means of knowing, but it is not at all likely that the modern religions and customs belonged to the aborigines prior to that date. It seems much more natural to suppose that the Vedic hymns, and the Vedic faith—if we may so call it, were at all times the exclusive property of the higher classes of Aryans, and that popular religions existed among the masses, as they do now, simultaneously with the highly civilized belief of the Vedic brahmans. The word brahmana, as designating a member of the priestly caste (distinguished from the brahman, the officiating priest and singer of the sa­cred verses), is found only in the very latest of the hymns, showing that no such distinction was necessary before the fusion of the classes which probably accompanied the southward migration.
Whatever India may have been then, any one may go there and see for himself what it is like nowadays. Saddened, oppressed, and weighed down by conquest, mutilated by the sword of the conqueror, and ground to the very dust and ashes of poverty by his relentless imposts and all-devouring avarice, poor and despised worse than all, despising herself,—but India still— the land of sunshine and roses, of holy places and sacred rivers, of glorious traditions and glorious nature, whereby the living death of her people glows yet with the colors of a life that is over and past for them. To the careless traveler it seems almost as if she might still be called young, but there is something underlying this outward bloom, this mere exuberance of productiveness; and that something, at first faint and undefined, gains substance and reality and clearness as a man searches under the surface,and brings at last a sorrowful conviction that beneath this splendid sun, and among these gardens ot roses and forests of rhododendrons, have been wrought tragedies as dire as any that blacken the history of the world.

F. Marion Crawford. in The Century; a popular quarterly Volume 0047 Issue 6 (Apr 1894)

…Cornell University Library

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A BŌZŬ OF THE MONTO SECT.

It was evening when we reached Kiōto, arriving by rail from Kōbé. For an hour past we had been riding through a valley not unlike the Shenandoah, save that instead of waving wheat and rustling corn we passed through fields of rice, the tanks here and there for irrigation sparkling in the rays of the setting sun like diamonds in fields of emerald.
There is only one thing to be done when you have no guide — keep your eye on the coolie who has taken the most of your baggage, and at the same time dart hither and thither through the crowd, pull the hair, kick, cane those who have taken rugs, coats, bags, even the book which you had laid down as the train came in, and which has been seized by some enterprising boy as a bait to draw you 10 his jinrikisha.
“ Nakamaria’s,” we say, and away they go. A broad and imposing avenue is before us, but that we soon leave and turn into a narrow street, dark save for the lantern of the jinrikisha, which glides swift by the closed doors — for they go to bed early in Japan.
There is a sudden stop, a vigorous blowing of noses and wiping of blows; and we are at “ Nakamaria’s,” larger than any tea-house we have yet seen. Last night we sat on the floor with our plates between our knees; tonight we have tables and chairs, a capital dinner, and comfortable beds.
“ Well,” I call out next morning in the cheerful tones of one who feels refreshed, “ How did you sleep ? ”
“ Don’t ask me; didn’t you hear that cow ? ” “ What cow ? ”
“ What cow ! You never hear anything. Why, that cow with the bell; she was in the bushes all night, and never stopped till three a.m,”
“ Not cow, master,” said the bright-eyed boy who acted as waiter; “ not cow, plenty much ringing.”
“ I should say there was ‘ plenty much ringing.’ What was it ? ”
“ One man.”
“ What the deuce was a man ringing a bell for all night?”
“ Plenty much bad, he do bad. Bōzŭ, he say ring bell; he ring bell all night — all night.”
This we found to be true. One of the penances prescribed by the priests is the constant ringing of a bell, the penitent to move from place to place repeating his prayers.
Ten minutes after breakfast we were whirling through Kiōto toward the great temple of the Monto or Shin sect; for since the preaching of Buddha (about 550 B.C.) Buddhism has not only split into the two great divisions of Northern and Southern, but in Japan itself there are no less than thirty sects, which is not the only way in which it resembles Christianity!
I believe the great Shinto temple at Tōkiō, which was burned in 1871, was considered the most splendid temple in Japan, with the exception of the one at Nikko; but certainly no Buddhist temple can compare with this, or rather these, for there are three in the one inclosure.

We enter by one of the three magnificent gates, built of wood and splendidly carved, but alas ! painted. Here and there the paint has chipped off, and it is a continual disappointment to see marks of neglect in what was so gloriously planned. Like the religion, the gates are more imposing from a distance. The paint is said to be necessary to protect the wood ; the wonder is, to any one who has seen it rain in Japan, how the wood lasts at all, yet some of these temples date from the seventeenth if not sixteenth century !
Passing the gate, you enter a court-yard paved with stone. Stone lanterns stand on either side; on the left is a fountain, and on the right a sacred tree, looking suspiciously like maple, but in truth grown from a twig of that tree under which Gautama breathed forth his soul, and was absorbed in Nirvana. (The sacred tree of Buddhism is like the pieces of the “ true cross ” in Italian cathedrals!)
The idea of the original model of all buildings, the tent, has been very completely retained in the Buddhist temples ; the entrance, however, is from the side, and not from the end. The building is of a reddish-brown color, ornamented at the eaves with painted figures, yellow, red, and green dragons and the fabled Kirin, The temple is not graceful in form, it is even heavy.
We remove our shoes, and, having put on the straw sandals, ascend the broad steps to the piazza, which runs the whole length of the building, and stand within the temple.
Above the altar sits Buddha on the lotus flower. The altar itself, of polished lacquer ware, is resplendent with bronze candlesticks and vases filled with artificial flowers ; slowly and languidly a thin spiral smoke ascends and is absorbed in the upper air. Below are the boxes in which is placed the sacred canon, remarkable in that here it is in the vernacular, while elsewhere it is in the mystical Sanskrit. The illuminated MSS. at San Marco or the Armenian convent at Venice are not to be compared with these for brilliancy of color or delicacy of touch.
The Japanese measure then temples by the number of mats it takes to cover the floor. A mat is about three feet by eight. This temple has 370 mats, i. e., it contains 8880 square feet of floor. About one-sixth of this space is fenced off as a chancel; on a line with the “chancel-rail” is an “altar-screen” depending from the roof about fifteen feet. This is covered with gold, and wonderfully carved in chrysanthemums; it makes one think of the pomegranates in Solomon’s temple. The chancel-wall and the pillars which support the roof are overlaid with beaten gold! Within this enclosure the priests alone may enter. The floor is covered with clean, cool mats of straw, and from the roof hang bronze lanterns of exquisite workmanship and delicately carved. The pillars are of kiaki wood, perfectly plain, but polished like cedar.
Opening from this is the Mikado’s reception-room, where in former days the abbot received his Majesty. The walls are covered with gold lacquer, on which are pictures of peacocks and other birds of gorgeous plumage. At the end is a dais, and above that a paint­ing representing the Emperor receiving homage from the Liu Kiu Islands. In the next room is a painting of the reception of the Mikado’s son, for in the palmy days of Buddhism it was customary to place the second son of the imperial family in a monastery;— not a bad place for a ” second son,” one would say , to judge by the appearance of the jolly abbot, who, dressed in white cassock and yellow robe, is smiling at the “ lay brother ” who is putting on his sandals in the porch yonder. There were reasons why it would have been very inconvenient for the abbot to perform that office for himself.
On entering the “abbot’s room,” lions, tigers, and leopards seem ready to spring upon you, so faithfully are they carved upon the wall. Each piece of the caning, however, is done separately and fitted in like a child’s puzzle, the whole fastened to the wall by minute brass-headed nails.
Passing from room to room we come to the garden, a beautiful and peaceful spot; it is here the monks read, and meditate, and do penance. In the center is an artificial pond, in which the gold and silver carp, some of them two feet long, were darting hither and thither till there were as many colors as in the sky at sunset.

Leaving the garden, we returned to the temple, where we found the priest waiting for us. He spoke English very correctly, but with a slight hesitation. He spoke very pleasantly of the Americans he had met, and then leading the way into the temple, and standing before the image of Buddha, he made his genuflection, and turning to us said: “ I beg you will ask me any questions about the religion, and I will be glad to answer them if I can.” We thanked him, and Bonner having suggested that I should question for both so as to avoid confusion, I began.
There were some thirty persons, men and women, in the temple, all of them very devout, kneeling and telling their beads. The rite is this: The worshiper on entering the temple strikes a gong which hangs at the door, to call the attention of the Gods, and having thrown some “ cash ” into the treasury, to obtain a favorable hearing, devoutly kneels before the altar, and rubbing the beads which he holds between his extended hands, he puts up a prayer for grace or pardon, comfort or deliverance, as men have done in every nation since they walked with God in his garden.
Kneeling beside me was an old man who had fixed his eyes with an agonizing expression on the calm and immovable face of Buddha, which looked indeed as if it held the “ key to all the creeds,” but gave little promise of guiding into the truth any of the sons of men. Turning to the priest and pointing to this man, I said:
“ Does that man worship the image ? ”
“ Most certainly not; he prays to what the image represents, which is God.”
“ What then is the use of the image ? ”
“ As a help. You and I are educated men, we have studied, we have thought, we are able to think at once of God ; but what can a poor man know ? You tell him there is a God; he will say ‘ Yes,’ but he will not know what it means, he will forget. When he sees the image, he will remember and think of God. You have pictures of God in your Bible, but they are not God, they only make you think of him,”
“ True, you, an educated man, can distinguish between the type and the reality, between the image and God; do you think the common people can ? ”
“ I cannot say, we do not teach them so: but it is hard to say what is in the minds of the ignorant people! ”
“You speak of God; do you believe there is but one God ?”
“ Most certainly, I believe there is but one God.” ‘
“ But how is it that yesterday I saw a Buddhist temple in which there were five hundred gods ? and there is a temple to the goddess of mercy, and one to the god of war, and I know not how many more ? ”
“ Ah,” said he, “ I tell you what we believe. There are many kinds of Buddhists, and one teach one thing, and another another, but I think this is true Buddhism. Besides,” he added, his fine eye lighting up, “ it is easy to prove that there cannot be many gods.”

I did not feel that as a Christian it would be right to make a point against Buddhism on account of its divisions ; it would be taking an unfair advantage ! “ We are not divided, all one body we!! ”

“ Let me ask you another question.”
“ Certainly.”
“ You say there is but one God ? ”
“ Yes.”
“ Did he create the universe ? ’’
“No; God cannot make matter, it already existed.” ”
“Well, admitting that matter is eternal, how did it get into its present shape? ‘By the fortuitous concourse of atoms ? ’ ”
“ I do not understand you.”
“ How was this world made ? It did not always exist in this shape,”
“ No one can tell. Probably by trying: the matter went this way and that way through a great many ages, and at last it took this form,”
“ But,” said I, “ we have nothing like that in life. You cannot fancy this temple build­ing itself ? ”
” I cannot.”
“ This temple shows a plan, does it not ?”
“ Yes,” said he, looking at the work with some pride,
“ And if it had a plan, it must have had a planner, an architect ? ”
“ Yes,”
I was rather pleased with the argument thus far; it struck me it had a Socratic style, and that I was Socrates, in which conceit I was encouraged by Bonner’s remarking in a stage whisper, “You’re getting him.” Still there was a trembling look in his eye, as if a thought were being held back, which in due time would spring forth, that I didn’t like.
In an evil hour, without one thought of Paley, I pulled out my watch. He laughed.
“ Oh,” said I, “ you know Paley’s argument ? ”
“ Yes,” he said, and laughed again.
So I put back my “ stem-winder,” feeling very much like a sophomore!
“ Well, anyway,” I remarked, “ it makes no matter whether we take a watch or a temple, or what we take.” (I had been taught at college that if “ Paley’s man ” had found a stone it would have done just as well!) “ They all show design, and so prove a designer.”
Then the eyes were thrown open and the thought leapt forth.
“ No, they do not all show design. Only artificial things show design, only things which can be made. And what do you mean by saying a thing shows design? You only mean that by trying a man could make it. A watch shows design, a temple shows design, everything made shows design. A temple shows a builder; does the wood, does the stone ? Do you understand chemistry ? ”
“ A little,” I answered. O spirit of Socrates, come to my aid!
“ Then you know that there are certain simple substances which cannot be made; they always were. Gold shows no design, because it can neither be made nor destroyed. A ring shows design, but not the gold. When men can make a world, then they can prove that this one shows design, for the only way they know of design is by what they make.”
“ But,” you will say, “ why didn’t you tell him—?” Yes, my friend, if you had said half the witty things at dinner that you thought of on the way home, you would be a successful “ diner-out ” instead of a bore ! I am not telling you what 1 might have said, but just as little of what I did say as will serve to cement the words of the Bōzŭ of the Monto sect.
“ So, then, matter always existed, and came into this present shape by chance, and there is no Creator ? ”
“ Yes.”
“ And the souls of men, did they too always exist ? ”
“ Yes, and they pass from one body to another ; the soul you have now existed before your body, and will live when that is dead.”
” What proof have you of that ? ” I asked. “ Do you think that the soul will ever die?” said he.
“ No, I do not,”
“ Well, then, it never was not.”
“ But that is only an assertion. If I had lived in a previous condition, I should remember something of it.”
“ Do you think so ? ”
“ Yes.”
“ Were you born dead or alive ? ”
“ What ? ”
“ Were you alive at one day, at one month, at one year ? What do you remember of it ? “ Well, when I die what sort of a body shall I take?”
“ That depends upon your life. If you have done good here, you may go to another planet and then to another, each life being higher than the one before,
till you are perfect. But if you lead an evil life, you will go down to a beast, a horse or, worse, a pig, perhaps to a tree or stone.”
“ But let me ask you, you say that souls always existed ? ”
“ Yes.”
“ Well, after the world got into this shape, and the first pair–’’
“ Excuse me, that is a mistake of your Bible ; we did not come from one pair,”
“ How then do you account for the fact that men are alike all the world over ? ’’
“ Because they were made in the same way all over the world, had the same causes. You have fir-trees and maple-trees in America ? ” “Yes.”
“So have we in Japan; but they did not all come from the same root ! ”
“ Still there must have been a time when the human race started on this earth ? ”
“ Yes.”
“ Let us then suppose that it began with one hundred pairs.”
“ Yes.”
“ And that each pair had two children.”
“ Good.”
“ And that none of the parents died before the children were bom.”
« Weil ? ”
“ Then there must have been four hundred souls on the earth where there had been but two hundred; now, where did the souls of the children come from ? ”
“ You must remember that there are other planets; they came from them.”
“No matter where you begin, you still have this difficulty, that if the number of births be greater than the number of deaths, there will be souls for which you cannot account.”
“ Sir, perhaps you can see to the end of the planets. I do not pretend to be able to comprehend the universe ”
. “ Then the God whom you worship is not a creator of matter, nor of spirits, they, too, being eternal. Now, is he a moral governor of the universe ? ”
“ How do you mean ? ” said the Bōzŭ.
“ Does he rule men as a king, or as in material things ? The present form is the result of chance: is the same true of nations and individuals?”
“ Yes.”
“ What! do you not believe in progress ? Is not the human race continually growing wiser and better ? ” .
“Yes,”
“ Do you not think, then, there is a plan to be seen in history ? ”
“ No, I think not. We improve by finding what is best. You go into a forest, you wish to find your way out; you try this way, that way, you cannot get out; then you go this way ” (pointing straight ahead).
“ But you find in all history that those progress who follow a plan. If the English and French were to make war against Japan, if the Mikado had no plan and let his army go each man as he saw fit, and the others had a plan and followed it, what would be the result ? ”
“ No doubt the Mikado would be beaten for the time, but he would learn and be better next time. That is the way we leam all things! And besides, God cannot govern the world, because he is good ! ”
“How so?” ‘
“ Is there not pain and sickness in the world ? ” ‘
“Yes.”
“ If God had anything to do with man, he would not have that. There is a sickness when you are hot and cold. You call it ? ”
“Chills?”
“ I think so. What do you call the medicine to cure that ? ”
“ Quinine.”
“ Yes. Now we have not found that long; a good God would not have let so many peo­ple suffer if he could have given them that. A man found it by chance. The sickness and the suffering in this life are for wrong done in another life.”
“ What do you mean by wrong? ” I asked. “ That which is not for the best.”
“ Well, when my watch goes too fast or too slow, I say it is wrong: does it commit sin?” “ I do not understand.”
“ When a tiger comes into a village and eats a man, it is not for the best, is it ? ”
“ No.”
“ Does the tiger do right or wrong ? ’’
“ He does right for the tiger and wrong for the man. It is best for the tiger to eat the man, for the man to kill the tiger ! ”
“ Is it wrong for one man to kill another?” “ Yes”
“ And to lie and steal ? ”
“ Yes.”
“ Why? ”
“ Because it destroys the harmony of the social relations. You must not hurt me, for then I would want to hurt you; and if all men lived in that way, there could be no peace. You must not lie to me, for then I should not know whether to do one thing or another, for I could not trust you.”
“ So then I must not hurt you for fear you might hurt me ? ” – Yes.”
“Is there no other reason ? ”
“ I do not know any.” t
“ Is there no rule of right which all men must follow ? ”
“ No; if there were, all men would think the same things bad. They do not .You think it is bad to have more than one wife; some other nations do not. They think it is bad to drink anything which you drink. There can be no rule, but each nation finds out what is best for itself.”
“ We too,” said I, “ think that things may be expedient for one nation which are not so for another, but deeds are right or wrong as they conform or do not conform to a rule, which is the will of our God; and those things of which we have spoken — lying, stealing, murder, and such like — we agree with you in thinking wrong and hurtful to society, and we have commandments forbidding them. This we call our duty to man; but besides that is there no other duty ? ”
“ I do not understand.”
“Do you owe nothing to Amida Buddha?”
“ Oh, no ! ”
“ What then is your God ? He did not cre­ate you; he does not help you; you do not owe him anything. What is this God ? ”

This question, to which more than any other I wished an answer, received none; for at that instant a lay brother appeared and spoke to the priest, who, turning to us,said he was needed and must go.
“Tell me,” I said, “ before you go, have you ever read the Bible ? ”
“ Some of it,”
“ Well, is it not a nobler and fuller relig­ion than this ? ”
“ For you, yes. I do not think it would suit us. The Japanese arc not a European nation; it is a mistake to try and make them dress and talk like Americans. Your religion is good for you, this for us. There is but one God; you call him Christ, we call him Buddha.I must go; I wish you good-bye, and I thank you for talking to me.”

And so, gentle and courteous and full of thought, he left us, and we slowly left the temple, having much to think of, for in a na­tion “ very superstitious ” we had met a man who was ” working righteousness.”
The sky is overcast, a chill wind from the north shakes the sacred tree : does it foretell the fall of Buddhism, or is it only shaking off the dead leaves ? These indeed arc showered upon us, and slip themselves, as it were, will­ingly beneath our feet; they are crushed to pulp, not dead; no! they have only taken one , more step in the infinite journey of life.

Banish from your thoughts the idea that Buddhism is a senseless idolatry.

It is a great religion; it has its saints, phi­losophers, and poets; its philosophy is the same as our French and English positivism.
It would be an interesting question, but one which must be left to an abler pen than mine : Has the East borrowed from the West, or Europe from Asia ? Or, is neither true, but as there are “ fir-trees in America, so are there in Japan,” and the same law has pro­duced the same results on both sides of this little planet ?

Leighton Parks.in The Century; a popular quarterly Volume 0032 Issue 3 (July 1886)
…Cornell University Library

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