The mission of a Buddha is that of a saviour. His great object, to make use of a Buddhistic expression, is, during his existence, to procure the deliverance of all the beings that will listen to his instructions and observe the precepts of the law. He is distinguished by feelings of compassion and an ardent love for all beings, as well as by an earnest desire of labouring for their welfare. These are the true characteristics of his heart. In this religious system mention is often made of Pitzegabuddhas, who have all the science and merits of a Buddha, but they are deficient in the above-mentioned qualities, which form, as it were, the essence of a true and genuine Buddha. They are never therefore honoured with the noble appellation of Buddha.
[3] The Chinese, Cochin-Chinese, Cingalese, and Nepaulese Legends all agree in attributing to Phralaong the use of reason from the moment he was born, as well as the power of uttering with a proud accent the following words: "I am the greatest of all beings; this is my last existence." To his own eyes he must have appeared in this world without any competitor, since he knew already that he was destined to release countless beings from the trammels of existence, and lead them to a state of perfect rest, screened for ever from the incessant action of merits and demerits. He alone whose mind is deeply imbued with Buddhistic notions can boast exultingly that he has at length arrived at his last existence, and that, within a few years, he will escape out of the whirlpool of endless existences, wherein he has been turning and fluctuating from a state of happiness to one of wretchedness. This perpetual vicissitude is to him the greatest evil, the opposite of which is, therefore, the greatest good. No wonder, then, to hear our Phralaong, who was better acquainted with the miseries attending existence than any one else, exclaiming with the accents of a complete joy—"This is my last existence."
The Burmese translator seems delighted to remark that on two former occasions Phralaong, then an infant, had spoken distinct words, which he addressed to his mother. This happened in the beginning of the two existences during which he practised two of the ten great virtues. It took place first on the day he was born to that existence, when, under the name of Mahauthata, he displayed consummate skill and wisdom. The legend of Mahauthata is a very amusing performance, written in a very pure language, and relating stories about as credible as those we read in the Arabian Tales of a Thousand and One Nights. What surprised the writer not a little, was to find, in perusing that composition, a decision given by our Mahauthata, in a case perfectly similar to that which showed forth, in the presence of all Israel, the incomparable wisdom of Solomon. When Phralaong practised the last and most perfect of virtues, liberality, carried to its farthest limits, ending in perfect abnegation of self, and renouncing all that he possessed, he entered, too, into this world with the faculty of speech, and became a prince under the name of Wethandra. The legend of Wethandra is by far the best of all. Taking it as a mere romance, it is replete with circumstantial details well calculated to excite the finest emotions of the heart. The latter part, in particular, can scarcely be read without heart-moving feelings of pity and commiseration, on beholding our Phralaong parting willingly with all his property, with his wife and his lovely children, and finally offering his own person, to satisfy the ever-renewed calls on his unbounded generosity.
[4] In Burmah the use of the white umbrella is limited to the king and idols. The former can never move without having some one to hold over his head this distinguishing mark of royalty. Any one who has been introduced into the palace of Amerapoora will not have forgotten how great was his satisfaction on beholding the white umbrella towering above the sides of passages, and moving in the direction he was sitting in. He knew that the time of his expectation was at an end, and that in a moment he would behold the golden face.
[5] In glancing over the genealogy of the twenty-eight last Buddhas, the writer has observed that every Buddha has always obtained the supreme intelligence under the shadow of some trees. Our Phralaong, as will be seen hereafter, attained to the exalted dignity of Buddha under the tree Baudhi (ficus religiosa), which grew up spontaneously at the very moment he was born. The writer has never been able to discover any well-grounded reason to account for this remarkable circumstance, so carefully noted down, relating the particulars attending the elevation of a being to this high station. For want of a better one, he will be permitted to hazard the following conjecture. Our Phralaong, previous to his becoming a Buddha, withdrew into solitude for the purpose of fitting himself for his future calling, in imitation of all his predecessors, leading an ascetic life, and devoting all his undivided attention and mental energies to meditation and contemplation, coupled with works of the most rigorous mortification. The senses, he knew well, were to be submitted to the uncontrolled sway of reason, by allowing to himself only what was barely requisite for supporting nature. Regardless of every comfort, his mind was bent upon acquiring the sublime knowledge of the principle and origin of all things, on fathoming the miseries of all beings, and on endeavouring to discover the most efficacious means of affording them a thorough relief, by pointing out to them the road they had to follow in order to disentangle themselves from the trammels of existence, and arrive at a state of perfect rest. In common with all other ascetics, our Phralaong had no other shelter against the inclemency of the seasons but the protecting shadow of trees. It was under the cooling and refreshing foliage of the trees of the forests, that he spent his time in the placid and undisturbed work of meditation, acquiring gradually that matchless knowledge and consummate wisdom which he needed for carrying on to perfection the benevolent undertaking he had in contemplation.
[6] It is a maxim generally received amongst Buddhists, that he who has far advanced in the way of perfection acquires extraordinary privileges both in his soul and his body. The latter obtains a sort of spiritualised nature, or rather matter becomes so refined and purified that he is enabled to travel over distances with almost the rapidity of the thought of the mind. The former, by the help of continual meditation on the causes and nature of all things, enlarges incessantly its sphere of knowledge. The remembrance of the past revives in the mind. From the lofty position such a being is placed in, he calmly considers and watches the movement of events that will take place in future times. The more his mind expands, and the sphere of his knowledge extends, the greater are the perfections and refinements attending the coarser part of his being.
[7] According to the prophecy of Kaladewila, Phralaong is to become Buddha when thirty-five years old. The total duration of his life being eighty years, it follows that he has lived as Buddha forty-five years. The advice of the old Rathee to his nephew Nalaka, to become a Rahan in order to better dispose himself to welcome the coming of Buddha, and listen with greater benefit to his preachings, leads me to make a remark and write down an observation that has been already alluded to. From this passage and many others which the reader will easily notice hereafter, as well as from the example of Buddha himself, one must suppose that at the time Phralaong was born, some institutions, the most important one at least, viz., that of the Rahans, recluses, or monks, already existed in a more or less perfect state. Relying solely on the authority of this Legend, no attempt at denying this supposition can ever be made. Kaladewila speaks of the order of Rahans as of a thing well known. Nalaka sends to the bazaar for the purchase of the dress