LIFE OF BUDDHA

BY ASVAGHOSHA BODHISATTVA

Translated from Sanscrit into Chinese by Dharmaraksha, A.D. 420; from Chinese into English by Samuel Beal

INTRODUCTION

Buddha is undoubtedly the most potent name as a religious teacher, in

the whole of Asia. The propaganda of the Buddhistic faith passed from

the valley of the Indus to the valley of the Ganges, and from Ceylon to

the Himalayas; thence it traversed China, and its conquests seem to have

been permanent. The religion of Buddha is so far different from that of

Confucius, and so far resembles Christianity, that it combines mysticism

with asceticism--a practical rule of personal conduct with a consistent

transcendentalism. It has, moreover, the great advantage of possessing a

highly fascinating and romantic gospel, or biography, of its founder.

Gautama, as the hero of Arnold’s “Light of Asia,” is very well known to

English readers, and, although Sir Edwin Arnold is not by any means a

poet of the first order, he has done a great deal to familiarize the

Anglo-Saxon mind with Oriental life and thought. A far more faithful

life of Buddha is that written some time in the first century of our era

by the twelfth Buddhist patriarch Asvaghosha. This learned ecclesiastic

appears to have travelled about through different districts of India,

patiently collecting the stories and traditions which related to the

life of his master. These he wove into a Sanscrit poem, which three

hundred years later was translated into Chinese, from which version our

present translation is made. There can be no doubt that the author of

the Sanscrit poem was a famous preacher and musician. Originally living

in central India, he seems to have wandered far and wide exercising his

office, and reciting or singing his poem--a sacred epic, more thrilling

to the ears of India than the wrath of Achilles, or the voyages of

Ulysses. We are told that Asvaghosha took a choir of musicians with him,

and many were converted to Buddhism through the combined persuasiveness

of poetry and preaching. The present life of Buddha, although it labors

under the disadvantage of transfusion from Sanscrit into Chinese, and

from Chinese into English, is by no means destitute of poetic color and

aroma. When, for instance, we read of the grief-stricken Yasodhara that

“her breath failed her, and sinking thus she fell upon the dusty

ground,” we come upon a stately pathos, worthy of Homer or Lucretius.

And what can be more beautiful than the account of Buddha’s conversion

and sudden conviction, that all earthly things were vanity. The verses

once heard linger in the memory so as almost to ring in the ears: “Thus

did he complete the end of self, as fire goes out for want of grass.

Thus he had done what he would have men do: he first had found the way

of perfect knowledge. He finished thus the first great lesson; entering

the great Rishi’s house, the darkness disappeared, light burst upon him;

perfectly silent and at rest, he reached the last exhaustless source of

truth; lustrous with all wisdom the great Rishi sat, perfect in gifts,

whilst one convulsive throe shook the wide earth.”

E.W.

CHAPTER I

The Birth

There was a descendant of the Ikshvâku family, an invincible Sâkya

monarch, pure in mind and of unspotted virtue, called therefore

Pure-rice, or Suddhodana. Joyously reverenced by all men, as the new

moon is welcomed by the world, the king indeed was like the heaven-ruler

Sakra, his queen like the divine Saki. Strong and calm of purpose as the

earth, pure in mind as the water-lily, her name, figuratively assumed,

Mâyâ, she was in truth incapable of class-comparison. On her in likeness

as the heavenly queen descended the spirit and entered her womb. A

mother, but free from grief or pain, she was without any false or

illusory mind. Disliking the clamorous ways of the world, she remembered

the excellent garden of Lumbini, a pleasant spot, a quiet forest

retreat, with its trickling fountains, and blooming flowers and fruits.

Quiet and peaceful, delighting in meditation, respectfully she asked the

king for liberty to roam therein; the king, understanding her earnest

desire, was seized with a seldom-felt anxiety to grant her request. He

commanded his kinsfolk, within and without the palace, to repair with

her to that garden shade; and now the queen Mâyâ knew that her time for

child-bearing was come. She rested calmly on a beautiful couch,

surrounded by a hundred thousand female attendants; it was the eighth

day of the fourth moon, a season of serene and agreeable character.

Whilst she thus religiously observed the rules of a pure discipline,

Bodhisattva was born from her right side, come to deliver the world,

constrained by great pity, without causing his mother pain or anguish.

As king Yu-liu was born from the thigh, as King Pi-t’au was born from

the hand, as King Man-to was born from the top of the head, as King

Kia-k’ha was born from the arm-pit, so also was Bodhisattva on the day

of his birth produced from the right side; gradually emerging from the

womb, he shed in every direction the rays of his glory. As one born from

recumbent space, and not through the gates of life, through countless

kalpas, practising virtue, self-conscious he came forth to life, without

confusion. Calm and collected, not falling headlong was he born,

gloriously manifested, perfectly adorned, sparkling with light he came

from the womb, as when the sun first rises from the East.

Men indeed regarded his exceeding great glory, yet their sight remained

uninjured: he allowed them to gaze, the brightness of his person

concealed for the time, as when we look upon the moon in the heavens.

His body, nevertheless, was effulgent with light, and like the sun which

eclipses the shining of the lamp, so the true gold-like beauty of

Bodhisattva shone forth, and was diffused everywhere. Upright and firm

and unconfused in mind, he deliberately took seven steps, the soles of

his feet resting evenly upon the ground as he went, his footmarks

remained bright as seven stars.

Moving like the lion, king of beasts, and looking earnestly towards the

four quarters, penetrating to the centre the principles of truth, he

spake thus with the fullest assurance: This birth is in the condition of

a Buddha; after this I have done with renewed birth; now only am I born

this once, for the purpose of saving all the world.

And now from the midst of heaven there descended two streams of pure

water, one warm, the other cold, and baptized his head, causing

refreshment to his body. And now he is placed in the precious palace

hall, a jewelled couch for him to sleep upon, and the heavenly kings

with their golden flowery hands hold fast the four feet of the bed.

Meanwhile the Devas in space, seizing their jewelled canopies,

attending, raise in responsive harmony their heavenly songs, to

encourage him to accomplish his perfect purpose.

Then the Nâga-râgas filled with joy, earnestly desiring to show their

reverence for the most excellent law, as they had paid honor to the

former Buddhas, now went to meet Bodhisattva; they scattered before him

Mandâra flowers, rejoicing with heartfelt joy to pay such religious

homage; and so, again, Tathâgata having appeared in the world, the

Suddha angels rejoiced with gladness; with no selfish or partial joy,

but for the sake of religion they rejoiced, because creation, engulfed

in the ocean of pain, was now to obtain perfect release.

Then the precious Mountain-râga, Sumeru, firmly holding this great earth

when Bodhisattva appeared in the world, was swayed by the wind of his

perfected merit. On every hand the world was greatly shaken, as the wind

drives the tossing boat; so also the minutest atoms of sandal perfume,

and the hidden sweetness of precious lilies floated on the air, and rose

through space, and then commingling, came back to earth; so again the

garments of Devas descending from heaven touching the body, caused

delightful thrills of joy; the sun and moon with constant course

redoubled the brilliancy of their light, whilst in the world the fire’s

gleam of itself prevailed without the use of fuel. Pure water, cool and

refreshing from the springs, flowed here and there, self-caused; in the

palace all the waiting women were filled with joy at such an

unprecedented event. Proceeding all in company, they drink and bathe

themselves; in all arose calm and delightful thoughts; countless

inferior Devas, delighting in religion, like clouds assembled.

In the garden of Lumbinî, filling the spaces between the trees, rare and

special flowers, in great abundance, bloomed out of season. All cruel

and malevolent kinds of beings, together conceived a loving heart; all

diseases and afflictions among men without a cure applied, of themselves

were healed. The various cries and confused sounds of beasts were hushed

and silence reigned; the stagnant water of the river-courses flowed

apace, whilst the polluted streams became clear and pure. No clouds

gathered...