The Dawn and the Day Part 11

A year has pa.s.sed, and of this growing band Sixty are rooted, grounded in the faith, Willing to do whate'er the master bids, Ready to go where'er the master sends, Eager to join returning pilgrim-bands And bear the truth to India's farthest bounds.

With joy the master saw their burning zeal, So free from selfishness, so full of love, And thought of all those blindly groping souls To whom these messengers would bear the light.

"Go," said the master, "each a different way.

Go teach the common brotherhood of man.

Preach Dharma, preach the law of perfect love, One law for high and low, for rich and poor.

Teach all to shun the cudgel and the sword, And treat with kindness every living thing.

Teach them to shun all theft and craft and greed, All bitter thoughts, and false and slanderous speech That severs friends and stirs up strife and hate.

Revere your own, revile no brother's faith.

The light you see is from Nirvana's Sun, Whose rising splendors promise perfect day.

The feeble rays that light your brother's path Are from the selfsame Sun, by falsehoods hid, The lingering shadows of the pa.s.sing night.

Chide none with ignorance, but teach the truth Gently, as mothers guide their infants' steps, Lest your rude manners drive them from the way That leads to purity and peace and rest-- As some rude swain in some sequestered vale, Who thinks the visual line that girts him round The world's extreme, would meet with st.u.r.dy blows One rudely charging him with ignorance, Yet gently led to some commanding height, Whence he could see the Himalayan peaks, The rolling hills and India's spreading plains, With joyful wonder views the glorious scene.

Pause not to break the idols of the past.

Be guides and leaders, not iconoclasts.

Their broken idols shock their wors.h.i.+pers, But led to light they soon forgotten lie."

One of their number, young and strong and brave, A merchant ere he took the yellow robe, Had crossed the frozen Himalayan heights And found a race, alien in tongue and blood, Gentle as children in their daily lives, Untaught as children in all sacred things, Living in wagons, wandering o'er the steppes, To-day all shepherds, tending countless flocks, To-morrow warriors, cruel as the grave, Building huge monuments of human heads-- Fearless, resistless, with the cyclone's speed Leaving destruction in their b.l.o.o.d.y track, Who drove the Aryan from his native plains To seek a home in Europe's trackless wastes.

He yearned to seek these children of the wilds, And teach them peace and gentleness and love.[11]

"But, Purna," said the master, "they are fierce.

How will you meet their cruelty and wrath?"

Purna replied, "With gentleness and love."

"But," said the master, "they may beat and wound."

"And I will give them thanks to spare my life."

"But with slow tortures they may even kill."

"I with my latest breath will bless their names, So soon to free me from this prison-house And send me joyful to the other sh.o.r.e."

"Then," said the master, "Purna, it is well.

Armed with such patience, seek these savage tribes.

Thyself delivered, free from karma's chains These souls enslaved; thyself consoled, console These restless children of the desert wastes; Thyself this peaceful haven having reached, Guide these poor wanderers to the other sh.o.r.e."

With many counsels, many words of cheer, He on their mission sent his brethren forth, Armed with a prophet's zeal, a brother's love, A martyr's courage, and the Christian's hope That when life's duties end, its trials end, And higher life awaits those faithful found.

The days pa.s.s on; and now the rising sun Looks down on bands of pilgrims homeward bound, Some moving north, some south, some east, some west, Toward every part of India's vast expanse, One clothed in orange robes with every band To guide their kindred on the upward road.

But Purna joined the merchants he had led, Not moved by thirst for gain, but love for man, To seek the Tartar on his native steppes.

Meanwhile the master with diminished band Crossing the Ganges, backward wends his way Toward Rajagriha, and the vulture-peak Where he had spent so many weary years, Whither he bade the brothers gather in[12]

When summer's rains should bring the time for rest.

[1]Varana.s.si is an old name of Benares.

[2]It can be no exaggeration to put the number of sacred edifices that burst upon Buddha's view as he first saw the holy city, at 1,000, as Phillips Brooks puts the present number of such edifices in Benares at 5,000.

[3]In this marriage-feast three well-known incidents in the life of Buddha and his teaching's on the three occasions are united.

[4]For the best description of the banyan-tree, see Lady Dufferin's account of the old tree at their out-of-town place in "Our Viceroyal Life in India," and "Two Years in Ceylon," by C.F. Gordon c.u.mming.

[5]Those who saw the illuminations at Chicago during the World's fair, with lines of incandescent electric lights, can get a good idea of the great illuminations in India with innumerable oil lamps, and those who did not should read Lady Dufferin's charming description of them in "Our Viceroyal Life in India."

[6]Lady Dufferin says that the viceroy never wearied, in his admiration of the graceful flowing robes of the East as contrasted with our stiff, fas.h.i.+on-plate male attire.

[7]"The good Lord could not be everywhere and therefore made mothers."--Jewish saying from the Talmud.

[8]Max Mueller calls attention to the remarkable fact that Dyaus Pittar, the highest name of deity among the ancient Hindoos, is the exact equivalent of Zeus Pater among the Greeks, Jupiter among the Romans, and of "Our Father who art in the heavens" in the divinely taught and holiest prayer of our own religion.

[9]How any one can think that Buddha did not believe in a Supreme Being in the face and light of the wonderful Sutra, or sermon of which, the text is but a condensation or abstract, is to me unaccountable. It is equally strange that any one should suppose he regarded Nirvana, which is but another name for Brahma Loca, as meaning annihilation.

To be sure he used the method afterwards adopted by Socrates, and now known as the Socratic method, of appealing to the unquestioned belief of the Brahmans themselves as the foundation of his argument in support of that fundamental truth of all religions, that the pure in heart alone can see G.o.d. But to suppose that he was using arguments to convince them that he did not believe himself, is a libel on one whose absolute truthfulness and sincerity admit of no question.

[10]"He prayeth best who loveth best Both man and bird and beast."

--Rime of the Ancient Mariner.

[11]Whether the Tartars were "the savage tribes" to whom Purna, one of the sixty, was sent, may admit of question, but it is certain that long before the Christian era the whole country north of the Himalayas was thoroughly Buddhist, and the unwearied missionaries of that great faith had penetrated so far west that they met Alexander's army and boldly told him that war was wrong; and they had penetrated east to the confines of China.

[12]The large gatherings of the Buddhist brotherhoods everywhere spoken of in the writings can only be accounted for on the supposition, which is more than a supposition, that they came to him in the rainy season, when they could do but little in their missions; and the substantial unity of the Buddhist faith can only be accounted for on the supposition that his instructions were constantly renewed at these gatherings and their errors corrected.

BOOK VIII.

Northward the n.o.ble Purna took his way Till India's fields and plains were lost to view, Then through the rugged foot-hills upward climbed, And up a gorge by rocky ramparts walled, Through which a mighty torrent thundered down, Their treacherous way along the torrent's brink, Or up the giddy cliffs where one false step Would plunge them headlong in the raging stream, Pa.s.sing from cliff to cliff, their bridge of ropes Swung high above the das.h.i.+ng, roaring waves.

At length they cross the frozen mountain-pa.s.s, O'er wastes of snow by furious tempests swept, And cross a desert where no bird or beast Is ever seen, and where their way is marked By bleaching bones strewn thick along their track.[1]

Some perished by the way, and some turned back, While some of his companions persevered, Cheered on by Purna's never-flagging zeal, And by the master's words from Purna's lips, Until they reached the outmost wandering tribes Of that great race that he had come to save.

With joy received, these wandering tribes their guides-- For love makes friends where selfishness breeds strife-- They soon are led to where their kindred dwell.

They saw the vanity of chasing wealth Through hunger, danger, desolation, death.

They felt a power sustaining Purna's steps-- A power unseen yet ever hovering near-- They saw the truth of Buddha's burning words That selfishness and greed drag down the soul, While love can nerve the feeblest arm with strength, And asked that Purna take them as his aids.

But ere brave Purna reached his journey's end, Near many hamlets, many Indian towns, The moon, high risen to mark the noon of night, Through many sacred fig-tree's rustling leaves[2]

Sent trembling rays with trembling shadows mixed Upon a n.o.ble youth in orange robes, His alms-bowl by his side, stretched out in sleep, Dreaming, perchance, of some Benares maid, Perchance of home and joys so lately left.

Meanwhile the master with his little band Toward Rajagriha backward wends his way, Some village tree their nightly resting--place, Until they reached the grove that skirts the base Of that bold mountain called the vulture-peak, Through which the lotus-covered Phalgu glides, O'erarched with trees festooned with trailing vines, While little streams leap down from rock to rock, Cooling the verdant slopes and fragrant glades, And vines and shrubs and trees of varied bloom Loaded the air with odors rich and sweet, And where that sacred fig-tree spread its shade Above the mound that held the gathered dust Of those sage Brahmans who had sought to aid The young prince struggling for a clearer light, And where that banyan-tree for ages grew, So long the home of those five n.o.ble youths, Now sundered far, some tree when night may fall Their resting-place, their robe and bowl their all, Their only food chance gathered day by day, Preaching the common brotherhood of man, Teaching the law of universal love, Bearing the light to those in darkness sunk, Lending a helping hand to those in need, Teaching the strong that gentleness is great.

And through this grove where many n.o.ble souls Were seeking higher life and clearer light, He took his well-known way, and reached his cave Just as the day was fading into night, And myriad stars spangled the azure vault, And myriad lamps that through the darkness shone Revealed the city that the night had veiled, Where soon their weary limbs were laid to rest; But through the silent hour preceding day, Before the jungle-c.o.c.k announced the dawn, All roused from sleep in meditation sat.

But when the sun had set the east aglow, And roused the birds to sing their matin-song's, And roused the lowing herds to call their mates, And roused a sleeping world to daily toil, Their matins chanted, their ablutions made, With bowl and staff in hand they took their way Down to the city for their daily alms.

But earlier steps had brushed their dewy path.

From out the shepherd's cottage loving eyes Had recognized the master's stately form, And love-winged steps had borne the joyful news That he, the poor man's advocate and friend, The sweet-voiced messenger of peace and love, The prince become a beggar for their sake, So long expected, now at last returns.

From door to door the joyful tidings spread, And old and young from every cottage came.

The merchant left his wares without a guard; The housewife left her pitcher at the well; The loom was idle and the anvil still; The money-changer told his coins alone, While all the mult.i.tude went forth to meet Their servant-master and their beggar-prince.

Some brought the garden's choicest treasures forth, Some gathered lotuses from Phalgu's stream, Some climbed the trees to pluck their varied bloom, While children gathered every wayside flower To strew his way--their lover, savior, guide.

King Bimbasara from his watch-tower saw The wild commotion and the moving throng, And sent swift messengers to learn the cause.

With winged feet through vacant streets they flew, And through the gates and out an avenue Where aged trees that grew on either side, Their giant branches interlocked above, Made nature's gothic arch and densest shade, While gentle breezes, soft as if they came From devas' hovering wings, rustle the leaves And strew the way with showers of falling bloom, As if they, voiceless, felt the common joy.

And there they found the city's mult.i.tudes, Not as in tumult, armed with clubs and staves, And every weapon ready to their hands, But stretching far on either side the way, Their flower-filled hands in humble reverence joined, The only sound a murmur, "There he comes!"

While every eye was turned in loving gaze Upon a little band in yellow robes Who now drew near from out the sacred grove.

The master pa.s.sed with calm, majestic grace, Stately and tall, one arm and shoulder bare, With head close shorn and bare unsandaled feet, His n.o.ble brow, the wonder of his age, Not clothed in terror like Olympic Jove's-- For love, not anger, beamed from out those eyes, Changing from clearest blue to softest black, That seem to show unfathomed depths within, With tears of holy pity glittering now For those poor souls come forth to honor him, All sheep without a shepherd groping on.

The messengers with reverence let him pa.s.s, Then hastened back to tell the waiting king That he who dwelt so long upon the hill, The prince who stopped the b.l.o.o.d.y sacrifice, With other holy ris.h.i.+s had returned, Whom all received with reverence and joy.

The king with keenest pleasure heard their words.