to ask silly questions.' Far oftener there is really no dialogue after the first question; sometimes the original question merely introduces a very tedious lecture, which consists, in the worst instances, of an enumeration of the twenty-eight this and the eighteen that, and the ten forms of the other. In the best instances, the difficulty started is a real one, such as, why the consequences of ill deeds are so much more apparent than those of good (iv. 33), or whether any death is untimely (iv. 36). Sometimes it is a difficulty arising out of Buddhist traditions, such as, How could it be right for Vessantara to give his children to be slaves (iv. 31)? Why did not the Buddha perform a miracle for his own convenience (iv. 7)? How came he, after preparing for Buddhahood for so many lives, to think, when he had attained it, of not teaching (ib.) ?—several, like this last, being met only by evasion. Some of the questions are merely verba! ; some absurd, as, Why, if there are demons, do we never see or smell their corpses? and a few quite irrelevant, such as, How are dreams produced? or Why is the sun not equally fierce at all seasons? Two treat of revolting topics with shocking want of reserve, but none have any impure tendency.

As for originality, it lies almost entirely in the treatment; for most, if not all, of the arguments and illustrations are enlargements of hints derived from the older books. But the treatment is intelligent; in favourable contrast with the later Suttas, and rich in a certain kind of force and eloquence. The supply of words is astonishing, and takes the reader's breath away.

For the characteristic of the Pali style, increasing as the literature grew, was the accumulation of synonyms for each word, of parallel phrases for each clause, and of rival illustrations for each simile. One consequence of this characteristic is, that the style is most effective when an accumulation of effects has to be described; as when drops are gathered into streams, and streams meet in rivers, and rivers pour into the sea. An eminent and, I think, really magnificent instance of this is the description of the earthquake which ensued on Vessantara's celebrated donation.1

As a favourable specimen, remarkable for the moral importance. of the question attacked as well as for the stern severity of the answer, and for a liveliness of dialogue above the average, I give (in an abridgment) what follows:2

1 Questions of Milinda, Sacred Books of the East, xxxv. p. 175.

* Milinda Panho, iv. 18, p. 255.

'Suppose a layman has fallen into one of the four great faults which in a monk are irrecoverable, and afterwards enters the Community; and suppose he does not know that he ever was guilty of such a fault is spiritual attainment possible to that man?'

'No; because the essential condition of spiritual attainment has been destroyed in him.'

'But your teaching says, that one of the great obstacles to attainment is remorse. Now this man has no remorse; he is calm; why is attainment impossible to him?'

'Just as a seed, which would come up well in rich, well-ploughed soil, cannot come up on stony and rocky ground, because in the latter the (vivifying) cause is wanting; or, as a stick, which can stand on the earth, cannot stand in the air, because the (supporting) cause is wanting, etc. etc., so the necessary condition of spiritual attainment has been destroyed in the man who has committed one of the irrecoverable faults.'

There is a genuine resemblance here to the Gospel Parable of the Sower. But the finest touch of ethical teaching, I think, is in the description of faith. Just as, when a stream is running high, ordinary men stand on the bank afraid to try to cross, then comes a strong and active man and leaps it at a bound; so he who has faith aspires and leaps up to attainments which to others seem impossible, and not only secures them himself but arouses the aspirations of others.

CHAPTER XXV

I

GENERAL SKETCH OF CEYLON HISTORY FROM BUDDHA

GHOSHA TO PARAKRAMA.

PROPOSE in this chapter to review very briefly

the history of Ceylon, as it is told in the Mahavansa, from the fourth to the end of the twelfth century, in order to extract from it what may be learnt about the relation of the Buddhist Community to the national government; about the different sects which existed within the Community; about the admixture of Hinduism with Buddhism, and whatever other changes the system may have undergone.

The brilliant period, which saw the work of Buddhaghosha and the conclusion of the original part of the Mahavansa, was followed by a time of depression and defeat. A series of Tamil usurpers reigned over Ceylon, and the sacred edifices fell into decay, till a restorer of the national independence appeared in Dhatusena (A.D. 463). Amid the lists of the great tanks which he made for irrigation and of the dagabas which he repaired or built, occurs a feature which deserves special notice. He erected, we are told, an image of Metteyya (Maitri), the coming Buddha. This is the first mention of any

erection for the cultus of this personage, though he is not seldom referred to by the historian; and King Dutthagamini had a special devotion to him, and is to be-when the time comes-his chief disciple.1 He is often mentioned in later books, and is even now often on the lips of Ceylon Buddhists as a kind of ideal; but I suspect he is borrowed from the northern school, and his cultus has never taken root in Ceylon.

The violence and inhuman cruelty of some kings, and the meritorious acts of others occupy most of the succeeding chapters of the chronicle. We read of encouragement given to literature by the younger Mogallana (540 A.D.) and by Aggabodhi (560 A.D.), the former himself a poet; and of a literary controversy with the Vetulla heretics' in the latter's reign. It would appear that in the century 540-640 the native kings were strong, and the native religion prosperous; though dangerous alliance with the Tamils, who were even brought over to help the Sinhalese kings to keep their own subjects in order, was preparing the way for the renewal of their ascendency. The history of this and the following three centuries contains a great deal to interest the Sinhalese antiquarian, and some points, presently to be touched on, that illustrate the influence of Hinduism on the Buddhism of Ceylon. But there are not many passages so touching as that which describes the dutiful love and reverence shown to his mother by a later Aggabodhi (A.D. 816).

1 Mahavansa, xxxi.

2 lb. xlix. li. etc.

'He was constant in his attendance on his mother, both by day and night; and he was wont daily to wait on her betimes and anoint her head with oil, and cleanse her body, and purge the nails of her fingers, and dress her in clean and soft clothing. . . . He made offerings of flowers and perfumes to her as at a shrine, and then bowed himself before her three times. . . . Afterwards he fed her from his own hands with dainty food, and himself ate the remnants, whereof he scattered a portion on his own head. he laid out her bed carefully with his own hands. And when he departed from the bed-chamber he turned not his back upon her, but stepped back noiselessly till he could not be seen. In this selfsame manner did he serve his mother all the days of his life.' 'On one occasion, when he spake disdainfully to his servant, and called him a slave, it grieved him so that he himself sought to obtain his servant's forgiveness.'

We find something to admire in the historian's flattery of kings, when qualities like these are chosen for praise.

Soon after this king's reign the seat of government was moved from Anuradhapura to Polonnaruwa (in Pali, Pulatthi), a spot further to the east, where still are seen, deep in the forest, ruins even more beautiful than those of the older city. It was virtually a retreat before the growing power of the Tamils, who were advancing from the West; and although

1 Mahavansa, l. 12, etc.