of the progress in perfect science.
in the preceding article we have reviewed the whole scale of beings, and analysed summarily some of them, merely to show the way to the general analysis of all others. the ultimate result of such an investigation is to acquire the conviction that all beings are subjected to mutability, pain, and illusion. this conviction, once seated in the soul, generates a generous contempt for such miserable objects. in this article we must see by what means this philosophical sentiment may be firmly rooted in the soul, and man may finally entertain a thorough disgust for all creatures, even for his own body. this loathsomeness for all that exists is immediately followed up by an ardent desire of becoming free and disentangled from all the ties and trammels that encompass other beings. when a man has become familiar with such a conviction to the extent that his thoughts, desires, and actions are entirely regulated by its immediate influence, he is free from the errors that deceive almost all other beings; he sees things as they are in their nature, and appreciates them by their real value.[234] he estranges himself from them. he is in mind in the state of neibban, until death will complete outwardly what was already existing inwardly in his mind.
we are all aware, says our author, that the principle of instability pervades all that exists in hell, on earth, and in the superior seats. but this important science is with many too superficially and but imperfectly understood. our great object is to root it deeply in our mind, so that we might ever be preserved from those false impressions which too often tempt us to believe that mutability and changes are not affecting all beings. what are the obstacles that oppose in us the progress to true science? there are three. the first is santi, or duration of existence. we allow ourselves to be lulled into the opinion that our life shall be much longer prolonged; that we have as yet many days, months, and years to spend in this world. this groundless supposition prevents us from attending to the principle of mutability. to counteract this dangerous impression, let us examine how all things are born only soon to die, and therefore let us have always death present to our mind. let us consider the short duration and vanity of our being, then we will soon be convinced that the form of the body is like the waves of the sea, that swell for a moment and soon disappear; that sensation is produced like froth from the dashing of the waves; that the thangia, or persuasion we acquire, has no more stability or reality than lightning; that the sangkara, or concept, or production, is like the plantain-tree without strength, and that the view of objects through our senses deserves no more credit than the words of a quack. let us reason in a similar manner on the ephemeral existence of all the beings that are in this world; we will easily come to a similar conclusion, that they are the victims of mutability, incessantly tossed about as a piece of wood by the billows of the sea.
a second obstacle to our perceiving the great principle that pain is heavily weighing on all creatures is the iriabot,[235] or the four situations or positions which the body assumes, viz., sitting, standing, lying, and walking. if a man enjoys good health, he owes it chiefly to the change of situation. were he doomed to occupy always the same place, or remain in the same situation, he would feel quite miserable. he momentarily relieves himself from his temporary afflictions by a change of situation. this relief makes him forgetful of the great principle of duka. but in truth our body is like a patient that requires the constant attendance of the physician. we must feed it, refresh it, wash it, clothe it, &c., to save it from hunger, thirst, dirt, and cold. what is all that but a sad and constant proof that we are slaves to pain? there is nothing but pain and affliction in this wretched world. the same fate awaits all other beings; they are all in a state of endurance and suffering, proclaiming aloud the irresistible action of duka.
a third obstacle to our being convinced that all is illusion in this world is that false persuasion which makes us to say, this is a foot, a hand, a woman, &c.; whilst these things have no reality, no consistence, but are mere shades, ready at any moment to vanish and disappear. these and like expressions being always used, impart at last a sort of conviction that they are true; but, after all, what are all these things but a compound of the four elements, or more simply nama and rupa?
in addition to this examination, the sage considers also our ideas and the operations of our mental faculties. here he sees these ideas appearing for a moment and then disappearing; he concludes that ideas are likewise subjected to the great law of mutability. he finds as much misery in his own mind as he has met with in the exterior objects; all around his mind is only illusion. when he has reached this point, he is delivered at once of the three nimeit that make one believe that there is something real in birth, existence, and action. the destruction of all beings, of all things, is ever present to his mind. in such a state, the sage is free from all erroneous doctrines; he is disgusted[236] with life; the exercise of meditation is easy to him, and almost uninterrupted. he is free from all passions.
our author has another chapter devoted to the consideration of the miseries attending all living beings. to make us better informed on this subject, he desires the sage to meditate upon the miseries attending birth, existence, old age, and death; he wishes him to examine attentively the condition of all creatures, that he might never be seduced by the dazzling appearance that encompasses them. he insists at great length upon the dangers surrounding the wise man, as yet compelled to remain in contact with this material world. to make us better understand this subject, he makes use of the following similitude. a man worn out with fatigue enters a cave wherein he longs to enjoy a refreshing rest. he is just lying down in the hope of abandoning himself to the sweet delight of undisturbed repose, when, on a sudden, he perceives close by him an infuriated tiger. at that moment all idea of rest, of sleep, of happiness, vanishes away; he is taken up solely with the imminent danger of his position. such is the position of the sage who, living among creatures, may be tempted to allow himself to look on them with an idea of enjoyment. but when he has come to that state, to be disgusted with all the modifications matter is subjected to, he is likened to the pure swan who never sets his feet in low and dirty places, but delights to rest on the bosom of a beautiful lake, of limpid and clear water. our sage, who has in abhorrence all the filth of this miserable world, is delighted only in the consideration of truth. he is displeased with the world and all things that are therein. his mind is busily engaged in finding out the most effectual means to break with this world, and rend asunder the ties that retain him linked to it. he is like a fish caught in the net, or a frog seized by a snake, or a man shut up in a dungeon. all three strive, to their utmost, to escape the danger that threatens them and regain their liberty. such is the condition of the perfect who has attentively[237] considered the many snares that are around them. he, too, has but one object in view, that of freeing himself from them and obtaining the deliverance.
the best and surest means to save himself from the dangers attending existence is a profound and unremitting meditation on the three great principles: aneitsa, duka, and anatta. we will select among many reflections supplied by our author, a few on each of these principles, to convey to the reader some ideas respecting the subjects that engross much of the attention of the buddhist sage. most of these reflections are strikingly true, and could as well find place in the mind of a christian as in that of a buddhist.
speaking of aneitsa, our author says: let us reflect on this, that there is nothing permanent or stable in this world. we hold all things as a sort of borrowed property, or on tenure; we are by no means proprietors of what we possess. we acquire goods but to lose them very soon. all in nature is subjected to pain, old age, and death; everything comes to an end, either by virtue of its own condition, or by the agency of some external cause. shall we ever be able to find in this world anything stable? no; we leave one place, but only to go and occupy another, which, in its turn, is soon vacated. no one is able to enumerate the countless changes that incessantly take place. what exists to-day disappears to-morrow. in fact, all nature is pervaded from beginning to end by the principle of mutability, which incessantly works upon it.
on the miseries of this world our philosopher speaks as follows: pain is the essential appendage of this world. survey, if you can, the whole of this universe, and everywhere you will find a heavy load of pain and afflictions, so harassing and oppressing that we can scarcely bear them with a tolerable amount of patience. look at birth, examine existence during its duration, consider senses, the organs of our life. in every direction our eyes will meet with an accumulation of pain, sufferings, and miseries; on[238] every side we are beset with dangers, difficulties, and calamities; nowhere lasting joy or permanent rest is to be found. in vain we may go in quest of health and happiness; both are chimerical objects nowhere to be met with. everywhere we meet with afflictions.
in speaking of the anatta, or illusion in which we are miserably rocked as long as we stay in this world, our philosopher is equally eloquent. if we consider with some attention this world, we will never be able to discover in it anything else but name and form; and, as a necessary consequence, all that exists is but illusion. here is the manner we must carry on our reasoning. the things that i see and know are not myself, nor from myself, nor to myself. what seems to be myself is in reality neither myself nor belongs to myself. what appears to me to be another is neither myself nor from myself. the organs of senses, such as the eyes, the ears, &c., are neither myself nor to myself. they are but illusions, or as nothing relatively to me. the form is not a form; the attributes of a living being are not attributes; beings are not beings. all that is an aggregate of the four elements, and these again are but form and name, and these two are but an illusion, destitute of reality. in a being, then, there are two attributes, form and sensation, that appear to have some more consistency than other things. yet they have no reality; their nature and condition is to be destitute of all reality and stability.[52] penetrated with the truth of[239] these and like considerations, the sage declares at once that all things are neither himself nor belong to himself. nothing, therefore, appears worthy his notice. he at once divorces himself from the world and all the things that are therein. he would fain have nothing to do with it; he holds it in supreme contempt and utter disgust.
he who has reached this lofty point of sublime science is at once secure from the snares of seduction and the path of error. he will escape from the whirlpool of human miseries, and infallibly reach the state of neibban. the most perfect among the perfect are so much taken upon with and deeply affected by the view of neibban, that they tend in that direction without effort. others, somewhat less advanced in the sublime science, discover, it is true, the state of neibban at a distance, but its sight is as yet dimmed and somewhat obscured. they want as yet to train up their mind to and perfect it in the exercise of that meditation of which we have given an abbreviated analysis.
