Part 14

Of course this constant increase of saint-worship tended to land men by degrees in a mass of theistic and polytheistic conceptions.

And polytheism could not prevail in Eastern countries without its usual reverse side—polydemonism; and polydemonism could not prevail without its usual adjuncts of mysticism and magic. And all of these again entailed idolatry, relic-worship, fetish-worship, and various other gross superstitions.

Such was the natural termination of the process of degeneration. Let us now trace it more in detail.

And in the first place it must not be forgotten that Gautama himself seems to have foreseen this result.

He seems to have been quite aware of the ineradicable tendency inherent in the nature of human beings, impelling them to elevate their saints and heroes to the position of gods. He therefore took pains to make his beloved disciple and cousin Ānanda understand that the truth embodied in the Dharma or Law which he had taught, was all that ought to take his place and represent him when he was gone.

Accordingly we learn from ancient inscriptions that for many years afterwards the only allowable object of veneration among primitive Buddhists was the Law—that is, the precepts, rules, and ordinances propounded by Gautama himself—many of which may have been committed to writing in early times, though oral transmission was at first the usual rule, as it was among Brāhmans.

In time, however, the interconnexion between Brāhmanism and Buddhism, and the tendency to group sacred objects in triads[78], which showed itself very early in Hindū religious thought and mythology, seems to have led to the idea of a corresponding triple arrangement of venerated objects among Buddhists. Hence three precious things—sometimes called the three jewels (_tri-ratna_), or the ‘three Holies[79]’—came first to be held in honour and then actually worshipped; a kind of personality being accorded to all three, very similar to that supposed to belong to the three chief gods of the Hindū Pantheon.

This triad of personalities consisted of (1) the Buddha himself, that is to say, Gautama Buddha, or the Buddha of the present age of the world; (2) his Dharma or Law, that is, the word and doctrine of the Buddha personified, or so to speak incarnated and manifested in a visible form after his Pari-nirvāṇa; and (3) his Saṅgha or Order of monks, also in a manner personified—that is, embodied in a kind of ideal impersonation or collective unity of his true disciples.

This last word, Saṅgha, which means in Sanskṛit ‘a collection’ or ‘assemblage,’ is sometimes, as we have already seen (p. 85), very unsuitably rendered by the expression ‘Buddhist Church.’ It simply denotes ‘the collective body of Buddhist monks;’ that is to say, the entire monastic fraternity, comprising in its widest sense the whole assemblage of monks, Arhats, Pratyeka-Buddhas, Bodhi-sattvas, perfected Buddhas and not yet perfected saints of all classes, whether on the earth or in any other division of the Universe; but not including—be it carefully borne in mind—the still vaster community of living persons constituting the whole body of the Buddhist laity.

These three, then,—the Buddha, his Law, and his Order of Monks,—passed into the first three divine personifications of early theistic Buddhism, commonly known as the first Buddhist Triad.

Hence we find that the Khuddaka-pāṭha or ‘lesser readings[80]’ of the fifteen divisions of the Khuddaka-nikāya (p. 63) begins thus:—

‘I put my trust in the Buddha, in the Law, in the Order’ (repeated three times).

‘Ye beings (Bhūtāni) here assembled of earth and air, let us bow, let us bow before the Buddha, revered by gods and men. May there be prosperity!

‘Ye beings of earth and air, let us bow before the Law.

‘Ye beings of earth and air, let us bow before the Order of Monks.’

When Fā-hien was on his return home and in great peril at sea, he committed his life to the protection of the Saṅgha, saying:—‘I have travelled far in search of the Law, let me, by your dread and supernatural power, return from my wanderings and reach my resting-place.’

And again, on ending his travels, he gratefully acknowledged that he had been guarded in his perils by the dread power of the ‘three honoured ones’ or ‘three precious ones’ or ‘three Holies’—thus acknowledging the personality of the Law as well as of the Buddha himself and of the Saṅgha or collective body of Monks[81].

But it must be borne in mind that this did not necessarily imply any worship of images. It is certain that for a long time even Buddha himself was not represented visibly. This is proved by the sculptures on the Bharhut Stūpa. Even in the present day the simple expression of trust in the three revered ones constitutes the only formula of worship current in Ceylon. It is true that images of the Buddha are now common in that country, and while travelling there I saw numbers of persons offering homage and flowers to these images. But no prayer was addressed to them, and I noticed no visible representations of the personified Law or Saṅgha[82].

Nor, when I was at the Buddhist monastery near Darjīling, did I see any image of the Law side by side with that of Gautama, though every book examined by me in the temple-library began with the words:—Namo Buddhāya, ‘reverence to the Buddha;’ namo Dharmāya, ‘reverence to the Law;’ namo Saṅghāya, ‘reverence to the Order.’ The only visible symbol of the three so-called ‘Holies’ was a long staff with three prongs, like the Indian Tri-ṡūla.

It seems clear, therefore, that while, in process of time, images of Gautama Buddha were multiplied everywhere—and, as we shall see, in various attitudes and shapes—images of the personified Law and Saṅgha were never common, and indeed rarely found, except among Northern Buddhists. Those images of the Law which I have examined are in the form of a man[83] with four arms and hands, two of which are folded in worship, while one holds a book (or sometimes a lotus) and the other a rosary[84].

Sometimes, however, the representation of a book alone is held to be a sufficient symbol of the Law.

The Saṅgha, on the other hand, is generally symbolized by the image of a man with two arms and hands, one of which, as in the images of Buddha, rests on the knees and the other holds a lotus.

And it may be observed here that of the three images of the Buddha, the Law, and the Order, sometimes one occupies the central position and sometimes the other. This circumstance has led scholars to speak of what it is the fashion to term a Buddhist trinity; but in real fact neither Buddhism nor Brāhmanism has any trinity in the true meaning of the term, for although Buddhists claim a kind of tri-unity for their triad, and say that the first contains the second, and that the third proceeds from the first two and contains them, yet the first is clearly never regarded as either the Father or Creator of the world, in the Christian sense.

It appears, in fact, that the earliest Buddhist worship was exactly what might have been expected to follow on the death of a religious Reformer and author of a new system. It was merely the natural expression of deep reverence for the founder of Buddhism, his doctrine, and the collective body of his disciples.

So simple a form of worship, however, did not long satisfy the devotional aspirations of the Buddha’s followers, even in the sacred land of pure Buddhism.

The mere offering of homage, either to a system of Law, or to a community of living monks or to departed human saints—even though their memory was kept alive by visible representations, and stimulated by meditation and repetition of prayer-formularies—had in it nothing calculated to support or comfort men in seasons of sickness, bereavement, or calamity. This kind of simple Buddhism might have satisfied the needs of men in times of peace and prosperity. Under other conditions it broke down. It could offer no shelter and give no help amid the storms and tempests of life. Hence the development of the later phases of the Mahā-yāna system, the chief feature of which was a marked change in the meaning attached to the term ‘Bodhi-sattva.’

This change will be better understood if we go back to what has already been mentioned (at p. 98). We have before explained that, according to the original theory of Buddhism, a Bodhi-sattva is one who has knowledge (derived from self-enlightening intellect) for his essence; that is, he is a being who through all his bodily existences is destined in some final existence to become a Buddha, or self-enlightened man. Until his final birth, however, a Bodhi-sattva is a being in whom true knowledge is rather latent and undeveloped than perfected. Gautama had been a Bodhi-sattva of this character (see p. 134), the merit of whose actions (Karma) in each of his countless previous existences (see p. 109) had been transmitted to succeeding corporeal forms, till in the state immediately preceding his last birth on earth he existed as a Bodhi-sattva in the Tushita heaven (see p. 120). There he continued until the time came for him to be born on earth as the Buddha of the present age, when he entered the right side of his mother in the form of a white elephant (p. 23)[85].

And it may be repeated here that the white elephant, as something rare and beautiful of its kind, was simply symbolical of the perfect Arhatship which he was destined to achieve in the ensuing birth.

Born, then, at last as the child Gautama, son of Ṡuddhodana, and purified by a long observance of the six transcendent virtues (p. 128), he ultimately attained to perfect knowledge and Arhatship under the Bodhi-tree, and in so attaining passed from the condition of a Bodhi-sattva to that of the highest of all Arhats—a supreme Buddha. Then, after about forty-five years of diligent discharge of his self-imposed task as a teacher of the right way of salvation, he ultimately passed away in Pari-nirvāṇa, or absolute non-existence.

It is important, however, to remember, that at the moment of his attaining Buddhahood he had transferred the Bodhi-sattvaship to Maitreya, ‘the loving and compassionate one,’ who became the Buddha-elect, dwelling and presiding as his predecessor had done in the heaven of contented beings (Tushita; see p. 120). There he watches over and promotes the interests of the Buddhist faith, while awaiting the time when he is to appear on earth as Maitreya, or the fifth Buddha of the present age. His advent will not take place till the lapse of five thousand years after the Nirvāṇa of Gautama, when the world will have become so corrupt that the Buddhist Law will be no more obeyed, nor even remembered.

No wonder then that this Maitreya—whose very name implies love and tenderness towards mankind, and who was destined to become, like Gautama, a Saviour of the world by teaching its inhabitants how to save themselves—became a favourite object of personal worship after Gautama Buddha’s death. Even when the worship of other Bodhi-sattvas was introduced, Maitreya retained the distinction of being the only Bodhi-sattva worshipped by all Buddhist countries, whether in the South or in the North. Not that Gautama’s memory was neglected. He was, of course, held to be superior to Maitreya, who was still a mere Bodhi-sattva or Buddha-designate. But the feeling towards Gautama Buddha, after his Nirvāṇa and death, became different, and the object of bringing flowers and offerings to his shrines was simply to honour the memory of a departed, not an existing saint. It was a mere mechanical act, fraught with beneficial consequences, but not supplying any real religious need. On the other hand actual prayers were addressed to Maitreya, as to a living merciful being, whose favour it was all-important to secure, and whose heaven was believed to be a region of perfect love and contentment, to which all his worshippers were admitted.

In Hiouen Thsang’s Travels a heavenly Ṛishi is represented as saying:—‘No words can describe the personal beauty of Maitreya. He declares a law not different from ours. His exquisite voice is soft and pure. Those who hear it can never tire; those who listen are never satiated[86].’

In fact, the aspirations of few pious Buddhists in early times ever led them to soar higher than the happiness of living with Maitreya and listening to his voice in his own Tushita heaven.

It is true that afterwards when the worship of the Dhyāni-Buddha Amitābha came into vogue in Northern countries this Buddha’s heaven, called Sukhāvatī, fabled to be somewhere in the Western sky, seems to have taken the place of the heaven of Maitreya. But this belongs to a later phase of Buddhism, to be explained when we speak of the Dhyāni-Buddhas (p. 203).

It was for Maitreya’s Tushita heaven that Hiouen Thsang, and other devout men of his day, prayed on their death-beds, and the one Chinese inscription found at Buddha-Gayā is full of expressions indicative of the same longing[87].

If then, we are able to enter into the feelings of Buddhists everywhere in depending on the living, loving, and energizing Maitreya, rather than on the extinct Buddha who existed only in their memories, we shall find it less difficult to understand how it came to pass that the idea of, so to speak, canonizing every great saint or popular head of a monastic community, and elevating him at death to the position of a Bodhi-sattva like Maitreya, living in permanent regions of bliss, and able to help his votaries to the same position, came into vogue.

It may make the course of development of Theistic Buddhism clearer if we here revert to the early constitution of the Buddhist monastic brotherhood, and endeavour to show how the homage paid to eminent and saint-like men led, first to the multiplication of Bodhi-sattvas, and then to polytheism and every form of polytheistic superstition.

A full explanation of the early monastic system is given in the learned work of Koeppen[88]. It is clear that as long as Gautama was alive he was the sole Head of the brotherhood of monks. After his death the Headship (as in the Christian brotherhood after the death of Christ) was not assigned to any one leader. The Buddha himself forbade this. The term Saṇgha at that time merely denoted a republican fraternity of monks, bound by no irrevocable vows and subject to no hierarchical Superior, but all intent on following the example, and propagating the doctrines of their departed leader. Soon, however, the formation of separate centres of union and teaching became inevitable, and the term Saṇgha was then applied to each separate society, and sometimes even to a separate Conclave of each society, as well as to the whole body. It seems at least certain that each monastic association had the right to admit monks, to hear confession, and to excommunicate. Naturally, too, in course of time it became necessary for each society to have some sort of governing body and choose a kind of president, and this presiding officer was originally the senior monk, and accordingly had the simple title of Sthavira (Thera), ‘Elder.’ This title appears to have been introduced immediately after Gautama’s death.

It is believed that ever since the time of the great Aṡoka, Sthaviras or Elders who became actual superintendents of monasteries, exercised administrative powers, like those of Abbots; each over his own monastic community. This was the first kind of Headship recognized. It was simply a superiority of age.

As to any still higher form of authority corresponding to that of Pope, Archbishop, or Bishop, and extending over several monasteries, this did not belong to early Buddhism or to its earliest developments. Lists of uninterrupted series of pretended Buddhist Hierarchs exist, but are mere fanciful fabrications. Nevertheless, it is certainly a historical fact that along with the superiority of mere age, seniority, and experience, there rapidly grew up _pari passu_ a superiority of knowledge, learning, and sanctity, which were generally, though not invariably, combined in the person of the presiding Elder.

Any one, in fact, who was distinguished for the practice of the highest degree of meditation, for complete acquaintance with the Law, for special purity of conduct, and perfect fulfilment of the precepts, was naturally elevated above the class of ordinary Bhikshus. Such a monk was from the earliest times dignified by the title Arhat, ‘very reverend,’ i. e. more worthy of honour than the generality. Arhat, in short, was from the first a name for the higher grade of saint-like Bhikshu. Such a man, too, before long, was raised to a still higher level in the estimation of his fellow-monks. He was believed to have delivered himself from all the consequences of acts, whether bad or good—from all the fetters (see p. 127) of life, and therefore from all re-birth. He was even elevated to a still loftier pinnacle. He was believed by his superstitious admirers to possess unlimited dominion over nature, space, time, and matter; to be all-seeing, all-powerful, and capable of working every kind of miracle. Then, of course, at death he passed away in Pari-nirvāṇa and was, so to speak, canonized. Be it noted, however, that such canonization was never accorded to an Arhat till after his departure from the world.

Probably the immediate disciples of Gautama Buddha—that is, his so-called ‘great pupils’ (see p. 47), were all considered perfect Arhats. And these perfect Arhats were probably the only saints of the earliest period of Buddhism. Yet there was one who surpassed them all by an immeasurable interval, and that one was Gautama Buddha himself. It was the distinguishing mark of a supreme Buddha that he was infinitely greater than all other Arhats, because he had not only gained perfect knowledge himself, but had become the Saviour of the whole world by imparting to men the knowledge of how they were to save themselves.

It seems, therefore, only natural that the followers of Buddha, and probably the Buddha himself, before his decease, should have thought it desirable to establish a more systematic gradation of saintship by filling up the immense gap between ordinary Arhats and the supreme Buddha. It was this that led to the idea of Pratyeka-Buddhas, that is, self-dependent solitary Buddhas[89] (see p. 134), as well as to the notion of a still higher being called a Bodhi-sattva, who, as the Buddha-designate and future successor of Gautama, occupied a still more exalted intermediate position than a Pratyeka-Buddha.

Of course it became difficult to fix on any living man, or any recently deceased saint worthy of the highest stage of Bodhi, to which a being about to become a perfect Buddha was supposed to attain.

The first to be so elevated (though apparently not by Gautama himself) was, as frequently mentioned before, the mythical individual Maitreya. He was, we repeat, for a long time the only Bodhi-sattva recognized by all Buddhists alike, whether adherents of the Hīna-yāna or Mahā-yāna. But he was not a historical personage, like Gautama or his immediate disciples. He was a mere mythological personification of that spirit of love—of that kindly and friendly disposition towards all living beings by force of which Buddhism hoped one day to conquer the world, and win it over to itself.

And in conformity with his mythical character, and probably to prevent the rivalry of pretenders among future ambitious heads of monasteries, he was not to appear for five thousand years, till the teaching of Gautama had lost its power.

Indeed, it was only to be expected that this rank should at first have been accorded to one person alone—just as in worldly affairs there could be only one Heir-apparent to the throne.

Such was the more simple doctrine of early Buddhism in regard to the relative position of the members of the Buddhist community.

How then did the teachers of the Mahā-yāna proceed to amplify this doctrine?

They taught that there were two methods of salvation or, so to speak, two ways or two vehicles—the Great and the Little (Mahā-yāna and Hīna-yāna)—and indeed two Bodhis or forms of true knowledge which these vehicles had to convey[90]. The former was for ordinary persons, the latter for beings of larger talents and higher spiritual powers. The ‘Little Way’ was the simple doctrine, which had many Arhats but only one Bodhi-sattva; the ‘Great Way,’ on the other hand, was the wider and broader, which had many Bodhi-sattvas as well as many Arhats. He who satisfied the usual requirements of Saintship received the rank of an Arhat in both systems. But in the wider system every one who aimed at unusual sanctity on the one hand, and knowledge (Bodhi) on the other, might walk on the Great road leading to Bodhi-sattvaship, and receive the title Bodhi-sattva.

We have seen (p. 136) that the Hīna-yāna, or ‘Little system,’ taught that there were only twenty-four Buddhas who had preceded Gautama. Three of these (viz. Kraku-ććhanda, Kanaka-muni, and Kāṡyapa), with Gautama as a fourth, had appeared in the present age, and only one Bodhi-sattva (Maitreya) was to come.

But according to the ‘Great System,’ it was a mistake to limit the acquisition of the highest Saintship in this manner. It maintained that there would be numberless supreme Buddhas (and, in addition to them, self-taught, solitary Buddhas, called Pratyeka-Buddhas), as well as numberless Bodhi-sattvas, even in the present age of the world. In other words, it propounded the doctrine that the practice of the six (or ten) transcendent virtues (p. 128), and especially the acquisition of transcendent wisdom (prajñā pāramitā), might qualify many saints for the attainment of Bodhi-sattvaship and Buddhaship. According to one theory, there were to be at least a thousand Bodhi-sattvas, followed by a thousand Buddhas, while, according to others, Buddhas and Bodhi-sattvas were to be reckoned by myriads.

But this theory of numberless Bodhi-sattvas involved an entirely new view of their nature and of the meaning of the term.

In fact, the Bodhi-sattvas of the more developed Mahā-yāna school were not Bodhi-sattvas at all, according to the strict sense of the term. It is true they resembled the genuine Bodhi-sattva in having gone through a long series of existences leading them at last to perfect saintship and to a heaven of their own, but they were under no obligation to give up their Bodhi-sattvaship, quit their celestial abodes, or descend ultimately as human Buddhas upon earth.

Furthermore, they never appeared to aim at Pari-nirvāṇa like their earthly counterparts. Their most obvious _raison d’être_ seems to have been to supply the need of personal objects of worship, and though in Tibet they were believed to have their own secondary corporeal emanations—sometimes called their ‘incarnations,’ but more properly described as descents (avatāra) of portions of their essence in a constant succession of human saints,—they never really left their own permanent stations in the heavenly regions. Indeed, it is probable that the chief cause of their popularity, as personal objects of adoration, was that they were able to help their worshippers to attain to the same permanent and unchangeable regions of bliss.

It was thus that the ‘Great Vehicle’ took up an attitude which raised it not only above the simple effort to suppress the passions and desires, but also above the hopeless Nihilism of early Buddhism; for it soon became the fashion for the most devoted and pious of Buddhist monks to aspire to the title and actual blessedness of Bodhi-sattvaship rather than to the doubtful blessedness of utter personal annihilation involved in Buddhahood. At any rate the numerous Bodhi-sattvas of the ‘Great Method’ appear to have remained quite contented with their condition, so long as it involved perpetual residence in the heavens, and quite willing to put off all desire for Buddhahood and Pari-nirvāṇa.