“Let us suppose the case of a youth, capable, eager for knowledge, the quickest, strongest, most powerful of all youths, and that to him should belong the world with all its treasures. That would be a human joy. But a hundred human joys are but as one joy of the heavenly genii; and a hundred joys of the heavenly genii are but as one joy of the gods; and a hundred joys of the gods are but as one joy of the Indra; and a hundred joys of the Indra are but as one joy of the Prajapati; and a hundred joys of the Prajapati are but as one joy of the Brahman. This is the supreme joy, this is the path to the supreme joy.”
“Yes, O pilgrim, just as if there stood there an inexperienced child, incapable of sensible reasoning. This child feels in his tooth a burning, boring, stabbing pain, and runs to an eminent and learned physician and pours out his troubles to him. ‘I beg thee, honoured sir, to give me by thy skill, a feeling of blissful rapture in place of this pain at present in my tooth.’ And the physician answers, ‘My dear child, the sole aim of my skill is the removal of pain.’ But the spoilt child begins to wail, ‘Oh! I have so long endured a burning, stabbing, boring pain in my tooth; is it then not most reasonable that I should now enjoy in its stead a feeling of rapture, of delicious pleasure? And there do exist, as I have heard, learned and experienced physicians whose skill goes so far, and I believed that thou wert one of these.’ And then this foolish child runs to a quack, a miracle-worker from the land of the Gandharer, a ‘cheap Jack,’ who causes the following announcement to be made by a town-crier to the accompaniment of drums and conches: ‘Health is the greatest of all gifts, health is the goal of all men. Blooming, luxuriant health, a comfortable and blissful feeling in all one’s members, in every vein and fibre of the body, such as the gods enjoy, even the sickliest can obtain by my help, at a very small cost.’ To this miracle-worker the child runs and pours out his trouble: ‘I beg thee, honoured sir, to give me by thy skill in place of this pain at present in my tooth, a feeling of comfort, of blissful rapture.’
“And the magician answers: ‘My dear child, in doing just this very thing lies my skill.’ After he has pocketed the money offered by the child, he touches the tooth with his finger and produces a magical effect, by means of which feeling of blissful pleasure drives out the pain. And the foolish child runs home overjoyed and supremely happy.
“After a short time, however, the feeling of pleasure gradually subsides and the pain returns. And why? Because the cause of the evil was not removed.
“But, O pilgrim, let us suppose that a reasonable man feels a burning, stabbing, boring pain in his tooth. And he goes to a learned and experienced physician and tells him of his trouble: ‘I beg thee, honoured sir, by thy skill to free me from this pain.’ And the physician answers: ‘If thou, my friend, dost demand no more from me, I may safely trust my skill so far.’ ‘What could I ask for more,’ replies the reasonable man. And the physician examines the tooth and finds the cause of the pain in an inflammation at its root. ‘Go home, my friend, and have a leech put on this spot. When the leech has sucked itself full and falls off, then lay these herbs on the wound. By so doing, the matter and the impure blood will be removed and the pain will cease.’ The reasonable man goes home and does as the physician bids him. And the pain goes and does not return, And why not? Because the cause of the evil has been removed.”
Now when the Master, after ending his parable, ceased speaking, Kamanita sat, reduced to silence and sorely disturbed, his body bent, his head sunk on his breast, his countenance suffused with colour, without a word, while the anguished sweat dropped from his forehead and trickled down from his armpits. For did he not feel himself compared by this venerable teacher to a foolish child and made equal with one? And as he was unable in spite of his utmost efforts to find an answer, he was near to weeping.
Finally, when able to command his voice, he asked in a subdued tone: “Hast thou, Reverend Sir, all this from the mouth of the Master, of the perfect Buddha himself?”
It happens seldom that the perfect smile. But at this question a smile did play around the Master’s lips.
“No, brother, I cannot say I have.”
When the pilgrim Kamanita heard this answer, he joyfully raised his bent body and, with glistening eye and reanimated voice, burst forth—
“Wasn’t I sure of it! Oh, I knew for certain that this couldn’t be the very doctrine of the Master himself, but rather thine own tortuous interpretation of it—an interpretation based altogether on misunderstanding. Is it not said that the doctrine of the Buddha is bliss in the beginning, bliss in the middle, and bliss in the end? But how could one say that of a doctrine which does not promise eternal and blessed life, full of supremest joy? However, in a few weeks I
