At that time, Nats surrounded Phralaong, singing praises to him; the chief Thagia was playing on his conch, whereof a single blowing resounds for four entire months; the chief Naga was uttering stanzas in his honour; a chief Brahma held over him the white umbrella. On the approach of Manh Nat's army, they were all seized with an uncontrollable fear, and fled to their respective places. The Naga dived into the bottom of the earth, to a depth of five hundred youdzanas, and covering his face with his two wings, fell into a deep sleep. The Thagia, swinging his conch upon his shoulders, ran to the extremity of the world. The Brahma, holding still the umbrella by the extremity of the handle, went up to his own country. Phralaong was, therefore, left alone. Manh Nat, turning to his followers, cried to them, "There is, indeed, no one equal to the Prince Theiddat; let us not attack him in front, but let us assail him from the north side."
At that moment, Phralaong, lifting his eyes, looked on his right, left, and front, for the crowd of Nats, Brahmas, and Thagias that were paying him their respects. But they had all disappeared. He saw the army of Manh Nat coming thick upon him from the north, like a mighty storm. "What!" said he, "is it against me alone that such a countless crowd of warriors has been assembled? I have no one to help me, no father, no brothers, no sisters, no friends, and no relatives. But I have with me the ten great virtues which I have practised; the merits I have acquired in the practice of these virtues will be my safeguard and protection; these are my offensive and defensive weapons, and with them I will crush down the great army of Manh." Whereupon he quietly remained meditating upon the merits of the ten great virtues.
Whilst Phralaong was thus absorbed in meditation, Manh Nat began his attack upon him. He caused a wind to blow with such an extraordinary violence that it brought down the tops of mountains, though they were one or two youdzanas thick. The trees of the forests were shattered to atoms. But the virtue of Phralaong's merits preserved him from the destructive storm. His tsiwaran itself was not agitated. Perceiving that his first effort was useless, Manh caused a heavy rain to fall with such violence that it tore the earth, and opened it to its very bottom. But not even a single drop touched Phralaong's person. To this succeeded a shower of rocks, accompanied with smoke and fire; but they were changed into immense masses of flowers, which dropped at Buddha's feet. There came afterwards another shower of swords, knives, and all kinds of cutting weapons, emitting smoke and fire. They all fell powerless at the feet of Phralaong. A storm of burning ashes and sand soon darkened the atmosphere, but they fell in front of him like fragrant dust. Clouds of mud succeeded, which fell like perfumes all round and over Phralaong. Manh caused a thick darkness to fill the atmosphere, but to Phralaong it emitted rays of the purest light. The enraged Manh cried to his followers, "Why do you stand looking on? Rush at once upon him and compel him to flee before me." Sitting on his huge elephant, and brandishing his formidable weapons, Manh approached close to Phralaong and said to him, "Theiddat, this throne is not made for you; vacate it forthwith; it is my property." Phralaong calmly answered, "You have not as yet practised the ten great virtues, nor gone through the five acts of self-denial; you have never devoted your life to help others to acquire merits; in a word, you have not yet done all the needful to enable you to attain the supreme dignity of Phra. This throne, therefore, cannot be yours." Unable to control any longer his passion, Manh threw his formidable weapons at Phralaong; but they were converted into garlands of beautiful flowers, that adapted themselves gracefully round his body. His sword and other weapons, that could cut at once through the hardest rocks, were employed with no better success. The soldiers of Manh, hoping that their united efforts would have a better result, and that they could thrust Phralaong from his throne, made a sudden and simultaneous rush at him, rolling against him, with an irresistible force, huge rocks, as large as mountains; but by the virtue of their opponent's merits, they were converted into fine nosegays, that gently dropped at his feet.
At that time the Nats, from their seats, looked down on the scene of the combat, suspended between hope and fear. Phralaong at that moment said to Manh: "How do you dare to pretend to the possession of this throne? Could you ever prove, by indisputable evidence, that you have ever made offerings enough to be deserving of this throne?" Manh, turning to his followers, answered: "Here are my witnesses; they will all bear evidence in my favour." At the same moment they all shouted aloud, to testify their approval of Mania's words. "As to you, Prince Theiddat, where are the witnesses that will bear evidence in your favour and prove the justness of your claim to the possession of this throne?" Phralaong replied: "My witnesses are not like yours, men or any living beings.[5] The earth itself will give testimony to me. For, without alluding even to those offerings I have made during several previous existences, I will but mention the forty-seven great ones I made whilst I lived as Prince Wethandra." Stretching out his right hand, which he had kept hitherto under the folds of his garments, and pointing to the earth, he said with a firm voice: "Earth, is it not true that at the time I was Prince Wethandra I made forty great offerings?" The earth replied with a deep and loud roaring, resounding in the midst of Manh's legions, like the sound of countless voices, threatening to spread death and destruction in their ranks. The famous charger of Manh bent his knees, and paid homage to Phralaong. Manh himself, disheartened and discomfited, fled to the country of Wathawatti. His followers were so overpowered by fear that they flung away all that could impede their retreat, and ran away in every direction. Such was the confusion and disorder that prevailed that two warriors could not be seen following the same course in their flight.
Looking from their seats on the defeat of Manh and the glorious victory of Phralaong, the Nats[6] rent the air with shouts of exultation. The Brahmas, Nagas, and Galongs joined the Nats in celebrating his triumph over his enemies. They all hastened from more than ten thousand worlds to pay their respects and offer their felicitations, presenting him with flowers and perfumes, saying: "Victory and glory to Phralaong! Shame and defeat to the infamous Manh!"
It was a little while before sunset when Phralaong had achieved his splendid victory over his proud foe. At that time he was wrapped up, as it were, in the profoundest meditation. The extremities of the branches of the Bodi tree[7] fell gently over him, and, by their undulations, seemed caressing, as it were, his tsiwaran; they resembled so many beautiful nosegays of red flowers that were offered to him. At the first watch of the night Phralaong applied all the energies of his powerful mind to ascertain the laws of the causes and effects, in order to account for all that is in existence. He argued in the following manner: "Pain and all sorts of miseries do exist in this world. Why do they exist? Because there is birth. Why is there birth? Because there is conception. Now conception does take place, because there is existence, or that moral state produced by the action or influence of merits and demerits. Existence is brought in by Upadan, or the combining of affections calculated to cause the coming into existence. The latter has for its cause the desire. The desire is produced by sensation. The latter is caused by the contact. The contact takes place because there are the six senses. The six senses do exist, because there is name and form, that is to say, the exterior sign of the ideal being and the type of the real being. Name and form owe their existence to erroneous knowledge; the latter in its turn is produced by the imagination, which has for its cause ignorance.[8]
Having followed in his mind the succession of the twelve causes and effect, and reached the last link of that chain, Phralaong said to himself: "Ignorance, or no science, is the first cause which gives rise to all the phenomena I have successively reviewed. From it springs the world and all the beings it contains. It is the cause of that universal illusion in which man and all beings are miserably lulled. By what means can this ignorance be done away with? Doubtless by knowledge and true science. By means of the light that science spreads I clearly see the unreality of all that exists, and I am freed from that illusion which makes other beings to believe that such thing exists, when, in reality, it does not exist. The imagination, or the faculty to imagine the existence of