On another day, Phralaong, on his way to his garden, met with the same Nat under the form of a sick man, who appeared quite sinking under the weight of the most loathsome disease. Frightened at such a sight, Phralaong, hearing from the mouth of his faithful driver what this disgusting object was, returned in all haste to his palace. His father, more and more disturbed at the news conveyed to him, multiplied the pleasures and enjoyments destined for his son, and doubled the number of guards that had to watch over him. On a third occasion, whilst the prince was taking a walk, the same Nat, assuming the shape of a dead man, offered to the astonished regards of the prince the shocking sight of a corpse. Trembling with fear, the young prince came back forthwith to his residence. Thoodaudana, being soon informed of what had taken place, resorted to fresh precautions, and extended to the distance of one youdzana the immense line of countless guards set all round the palace.
On a fourth occasion, the prince, driving rapidly towards his garden, was met on his way by the same Nat under the meek form of a Rahan. The curiosity of the prince was awakened by the extraordinary sight of that new personage: he asked his coachman what he was. "Prince," answered the coachman, "he is a Rahan." At the same time, though little acquainted with the high dignity and sublime qualifications of a recluse, he was enabled, by the power of the Nats, to praise and extol in dignified language the profession and merits of Rahans. The prince felt instantaneously an almost irresistible inclination to embrace that attractive mode of life. He quietly went as far as his garden.
The whole day was spent in all sorts of rural diversions. Having bathed in a magnificent tank, he went a little before sunset to rest awhile on a large well-polished stone table, overshaded by the far-spread branches of beautiful trees hanging above it, waiting for the time to put on his richest dress. All his attendants were busily engaged in preparing the finest clothes and most elegant ornaments. When all was ready, they stood silent round him, waiting for his orders. Perfumes of every description were disposed in a circular row with the various ornaments on the table whereon the prince was sitting.
At that very moment a chief Thagia was quietly enjoying a delicious and refreshing rest on the famous stone table called Pantoo Kambala. On a sudden, he felt his seat as it were getting hot. "Lo! what does this mean?" said the astonished Thagia; "am I doomed to lose my happy state?" Having recollected himself, and reflected a while on the cause of such a wonderful occurrence, he soon knew that Phralaong was preparing to put on for the last time his princely dress. He called to him the son of a Nat, named Withakioon, and said to him, "On this day, at midnight, Prince Theiddat is to leave his palace and withdraw into solitude. Now he is in his garden, preparing to put on his richest attire for the last time. Go, therefore, without a moment's delay, to the place where he is sitting, surrounded by his attendants, and perform to him all the required services." Bowing respectfully to the chief of Thagias, Withakioon obeyed, and by the power inherent in the nature of Nats, he was in an instant carried to the presence of Phralaong. He assumed the figure of his barber, and immediately set to work to arrange the turban with as much taste as art round his head. Phralaong soon found out that the skilful hand which disposed the folds of his head-dress was not that of a man, but of a Nat. One fold of the turban appeared like one thousand, and ten folds like ten thousand folds, offering the magical coup-d'œil of as many different pieces of cloth, arranged with the most consummate skill. The extremity of the turban, which crossed vertically the whole breadth of the countless folds, appeared covered with a profusion of shining rubies. The head of Phralaong was small, but the folds of the turban seemed numberless. How could that be so? It is a wonder surpassing our understanding; it would be rashness and temerity to allow our minds to dwell too much upon it.
Having completely dressed, Phralaong[6] found himself surrounded by all sorts of musicians, singers, and dancers, vying with each other in their endeavours to increase the rejoicing. The Pounhas sang aloud his praise. "May he conquer and triumph! May his wishes and desires be ever fulfilled!" The multitude repeated incessantly in his honour stanzas of praises and blessings. In the midst of universal rejoicings, Phralaong ascended his carriage. He had scarcely seated himself on it, when a message, sent by his father, conveyed to him the gladdening tidings that Yathaudara had been delivered of a son. "That child," replied he with great coolness, "is a new and strong tie that I will have to break." The answer having been brought to his father, Thoodaudana could not understand its meaning. He, however, caused his grandson to be named Raoula. Phralaong, sitting in his carriage, surrounded by crowds of people, who rent the air with cries of joy and jubilation, entered into the city of Kapilawot. At that moment a princess, named Keissa Gautami, was contemplating from her apartments the triumphant entrance of Phralaong into the city. She admired the noble and graceful deportment of Prince Theiddat, and exclaimed with feelings of inexpressible delight, "Happy the father and mother who have such an incomparable son! happy the wife who is blest with such an accomplished husband!" On hearing those words, Phralaong desired to understand their meaning and know their bearing. "By what means," said he to himself, "can a heart find peace and happiness?" As his heart was already disentangled from the thraldom of passions, he readily perceived that real happiness could be found but in the extinction of concupiscence, pride, ignorance, and other passions. He resolved henceforth to search ardently for the happy state of Neibban, by quitting the world that very night, leaving the society of men, and withdrawing into solitude. Detaching from his neck a collar of pearls of immense value, he sent it to Keissa Gautami, as a token of gratitude for the excellent lesson she had given him by the words which she had uttered in his praise. The young princess received it as a mark of favour which she imagined Prince Theiddat intended to pay her. Without further notice of her, he retired into his own apartment to enjoy some rest.
FOOTNOTES
[1] Which of the two systems, Buddhism or Brahminism, is the most ancient? This is a question which learned Orientalists have in former days variously answered. If, however, some credit is to be given to this Legend, and the hero thereof is to be regarded as the author of Buddhism, the solution of that much-controverted question is comparatively easy, and seems to admit of no doubt. Priority of antiquity is decidedly in favour of Brahminism. At the time Buddha was born, and in his own country, we find already subsisting the great politico-religious fabric of Hinduism. The distinction of caste is already mentioned in several passages. We find the Pounhas or Brahmins already monopolising the lucrative trade of soothsaying, and regarded as the best informed among their countrymen. They are treated with great respect and consideration even by proud monarchs, who testify their regard for them by costly presents and every possible mark of distinction. It is true that their caste is not always spoken of with great regard by Buddhist authors; but this is to be attributed to the deadly enmity that prevailed at a later period between those two great rival sects, which have so long struggled for supremacy over the Indian Peninsula. The Brahminical creed is spoken of in very disparaging terms by Buddhists; and, as a matter of course, they have been reciprocally handled severely by their opponents. To those who feel inclined to regard Buddha as but a great reformer of a religious system already existing, the question will not appear cleared of all difficulty. But upon them rests the task of establishing on uncontrovertible grounds their hypothesis, ere any serious attention can be paid to the conclusion they would fain infer in favour of the superior antiquity of Buddhism. As for us, we believe Buddha to be the real author of the great religious system under examination. But, at the same time, we readily concede that many elements found existing in those days were seized upon by Buddha, and skilfully arranged so as to harmonise well with his plans.
[2] Superstition and ignorance seem to have been in all ages and under every climate the prolific source of human follies and mental delusions. Man has always been and will ever be the same ridiculously superstitious being, as long as his mind is left to itself, unenlightened