The Life or Legend of Gaudama, the Buddha of the Burmese. Paul Ambroise Bigandet

resembled loud peals of continued thunder, and the resounding of the mighty waves at the foot of the Mount Oogando. Flowers, shedding the most fragrant odour, were seen gracefully undulating in the air, like an immense canopy, extending to the farthest limits of the horizon. During that night, Phralaong, attended with that brilliant retinue, travelled a distance of thirty youdzanas, and arrived on the banks of the river Anauma. Turning his face towards Tsanda, he asked what was the river's name. "Anauma is its name," replied his faithful attendant. "I will not," said Phralaong to himself, "show myself unworthy of the high dignity I aspire to." Spurring his horse, the fierce animal leaped at once to the opposite bank. Phralaong alighted on the ground, which was covered with a fine sand resembling pearls, when the rays of the sun fell upon it in the morning. On that spot he divested himself of his dress, and calling Tsanda to him, he directed him to take charge of his ornaments, and carry them back with the horse Kantika to his palace. For himself, he had made up his mind to become a Rahan. "Your servant too," replied Tsanda, "will become also a recluse in your company." "No," said the prince, "the profession of Rahan does not at present befit you." He reiterated this prohibition three times. When he was handing over to Tsanda his costly ornaments, he said to himself, "These long hairs that cover my head, and my beard too, are superfluities unbecoming the profession of Rahan." Whereupon with one hand unsheathing his sword, and with the other seizing his comely hairs, he cut them with a single stroke. What remained of his hairs on the head measured about one inch and a half in length. In like manner he disposed of his beard. From that time he never needed shaving; the hairs of his beard and those of the head never grew longer during the remainder of his life.[2] Holding his hairs and turban together, he cried aloud, "If I am destined to become a Buddha, let these hairs and turban remain suspended in the air; if not, let them drop down on the ground." Throwing up both to the height of one youdzana, they remained suspended in the air, until a Nat came with a rich basket, put them therein, and carried them to the seat of Tawadeintha. He there erected the Dzedi Dzoulamani, wherein they were religiously deposited. Casting his regards on his own person, Phralaong saw that his rich and shining robe did not answer his purpose, nor appear befitting the poor and humble profession he was about to embrace. While his attention was taken up with this consideration, a great Brahma, named Gatigara, who in the days of the Buddha Kathaba had been an intimate friend of our Phralaong, and who, during the period that elapsed between the manifestation of that Buddha to the present time, had not grown old, discovered at once the perplexity of his friend's mind. "Prince Theiddat," said he, "is preparing to become a Rahan, but he is not supplied with the dress and other implements essentially required for his future calling. I will provide him now with the thinbaing, the kowot, the dugout, the patta, the leathern girdle, the hatchet, the needle, and filter.[3] He took with him all these articles, and in an instant arrived in the presence of Phralaong, to whom he presented them. Though unacquainted with the details of that dress, and untrained in the use of those new implements, the prince, like a man who had been a recluse during several existences, put on with a graceful gravity his new dress. He adjusted the thinbaing round his waist, covered his body with the kowot, threw the dugout over his shoulders, and suspended to his neck the bag containing the earthen patta. Assuming the grave, meek, and dignified countenance of a Rahan, he called Tsanda and bade him go back to his father and relate to him all that he had seen. Tsanda, complying with his master's request, prostrated himself three times before him; then, rising up, he wheeled to the right and departed. The spirited horse, hearing the last words of Phralaong, could no more control his grief.[4]

      "Alas!" said he, "I will see no more my master in this world." His sorrow grew so great that his heart split into two parts, and he died on the spot.

      After his death, he became a Nat in the seat of Tawadeintha. The affliction of Tsanda at parting with his good master was increased by the death of Kantika. The tears that streamed down his cheeks resembled drops of liquid silver.

      Phralaong, having thus begun the life of a recluse, spent seven days alone in a forest of mango trees, enjoying in that retirement the peace and happiness of soul which solitude alone can confer. The place, in the neighbourhood of which he began his religious life, is called Anupyia, in the country belonging to the Malla princes. He then started for the country of Radzagio, travelling on foot a distance of thirty youdzanas. Arrived near the gate of the royal city, Phralaong stopped for a while, saying within himself, "Peimpathara, the king of this country, will no doubt hear of my arrival in this place. Knowing that the son of King Thoodaudana is actually in his own royal city, he will insist upon my accepting all sorts of presents. But now, in my capacity of Rahan, I must decline accepting them, and by the rules of my profession I am bound to go and beg along the streets, from house to house, the food necessary for my support." He instantly resumed his journey, entered the city through the eastern gate, the patta hanging on his side, and followed the first row of houses, receiving the alms which pious hands offered him. At the moment of his arrival the whole city was shaken by a mighty commotion, like that which is felt in the seat of Thoora when the Nat Athoorein makes his apparition in it. The inhabitants, terrified at such an ominous sign, ran in all haste to the palace. Admitted into the presence of the monarch, they told him that they knew not what sort of being had just arrived in the city, walking through the streets and begging alms. They could not ascertain whether he was a Nat, a man, or a Galong. The king, looking from his apartments over the city, saw Phralaong, whose meek deportment removed all anxiety from his mind. He, however, directed a few of his noblemen to go and watch attentively all the movements of the stranger. "If he be," said he, "a Bilou, he will soon leave the city and vanish away; if a Nat, he will raise himself in the air; if a Naga, he will plunge to the bottom of the earth." Phralaong, having obtained the quantity of rice, vegetables, &c., he thought sufficient for his meal, left the city through the same gate by which he had entered it, sat down at the foot of a small hill, his face turned towards the east, and tried to make his meal with the things he had received. He could not swallow the first mouthful, which he threw out of his mouth in utter disgust. Accustomed to live sumptuously and feed on the most delicate things, his eyes could not bear even the sight of that loathsome mixture of the coarsest articles of food collected at the bottom of his patta. He soon, however, recovered from that shock; and gathered fresh strength to subdue the opposition of nature, overcome its repugnance, and conquer its resistance. Reproaching himself for such an unbecoming weakness:—"Was I not aware," said he, with a feeling of indignation against himself, "that when I took up the dress of a mendicant such would be my food? The moment is come to trample upon nature's appetites." Whereupon he took up his patta, ate cheerfully his meal, and never afterwards did he ever feel any repugnance at what things soever he had to eat.

      The king's messengers, having closely watched and attentively observed all that had happened, returned to their master, to whom they related all the particulars that they had witnessed. "Let my carriage be ready," said the king, "and you, follow me to the place where this stranger is resting." He soon perceived Phralaong at a distance, sitting quietly after his refection. Peimpathara alighted from his conveyance, respectfully drew near to Phralaong, and, having occupied a seat in a becoming place, was overwhelmed with contentment and inexpressible joy to such an extent, indeed, that he could scarcely find words to give utterance to his feelings. Having at last recovered from the first impression, he addressed Phralaong in the following manner:—"Venerable Rahan, you seem to be young still, and in the prime of your life; in your person you are gifted with the most attractive and noble qualities, indicating surely your illustrious and royal extraction. I have under my control and in my possession a countless crowd of officers, elephants, horses and chariots, affording every desirable convenience for pleasure and amusement of every description. Please to accept of a numerous retinue of attendants, with whom you may enjoy yourself whilst remaining within my dominions. May I be allowed to ask what country you belong to, who you are, and from what illustrious lineage and descent you are come?" Phralaong said to himself:—"It is evident that the king is unacquainted with both my name and origin; I will, however, satisfy him on the subject of his inquiry." Pointing out with his hand in the direction of the place he had come from, he said:—"I arrive from the country which has been governed by a long succession of the descendants of Prince Kothala. I have, indeed, been born from royal progenitors, but I have