This and the following articles contain subjects of so abstruse and refined a nature, that it would require one to possess the science of a Buddha to come to a right understanding of them. The difficulties arising from this study are due to the confused and very unsatisfactory ideas of the Buddhist philosophers respecting the soul and its spirituality, and perhaps to the inability of the writer to understand the vague and undefined terms employed to convey their ideas on these matters. The field of Buddhist metaphysics is, to a European, in a great measure a new one; the meaning of the terms is half-understood by the Burmese translators; definitions of terms do not convey explanations such as we anticipate, and ideas seem to run in a new channel; they assume, if we may say so, strange forms: divisions and subdivisions of the various topics have no resemblance to what a European is used to in the study of philosophy. The student feels himself ushered into a new region; he is doomed to find his way by groping. Finally, the false position assumed by the Indian philosophers, and the false conclusions they arrive at, contribute to render more complicated the task of elucidating this portion of the Buddhist system. That the difficulties may be somewhat lessened, and the pathway rendered less rugged and a little smooth, the writer proposes to avoid as much as it is in his power overcharging with Pali terms the explanations he is about to afford, under the guidance of the Buddhist author.  
In the preceding article we have treated of meritorious actions that are purely exterior, and briefly alluded to the nature of the rewards bestowed on earth and in the six seats of Nats upon those who have performed these good actions. Now we leave behind all the exterior good deeds, and turn the attention of our mind to something more[203] excellent, to those acts that are purely interior, and are performed solely by the soul and the right exercise of its faculties; that is to say, by meditation and contemplation.
 
The root of all human miseries is ignorance. It is the generating principle of concupiscence and other passions. It is the dark but lofty barrier that encircles all beings and retains them within the vortex of endless existences; it is the cause of all existences, and of all those illusions to which beings are miserably subjected; it causes those continual changes which take place in the production of all beings. This great cause once found and proclaimed by Buddha, it was necessary to procure a remedy to counteract the action of ignorance, and successfully oppose its progress. Another antagonistic and opposite principle had to be found, adequate to resist the baneful agency of ignorance and stem its sad and misfortune-creating influence. That principle is science or knowledge. Ignorance is but a negative agent: it is only the absence of science. Let knowledge be, and ignorance shall vanish away in the same manner as darkness is noiselessly but irresistibly dissipated by the presence of light.
 
All beings in this universe, says our author, are doomed to be born and die. We quit this place to go and live in another; we die here to be born elsewhere. We can never be freed from pain, old age, and death. Whether we like it or not, we must suffer and always suffer. But why is it so? Because we do not possess the perfect science. Were we blessed with it, we would infallibly look towards Neibban, and then, escaping from the pursuit of pain and miseries, we would infallibly obtain the deliverance from those evils which now incessantly press upon us. It rests with us only to perfect our intelligence, so that we might gradually attain to the perfect science, the source of all good. But by what means is so desirable an end to be obtained? By the exercise of meditation, answers, with a decided tone, our philosopher. This word implies, besides, our intellectual operations of a superior order, such as[204] contemplation, visions, ecstasy, union, &c., which are the more or less complete results of that intellectual exercise.
 
The act of meditating can take place but in the heart, where resides the mano, or the faculty of knowing. Its object can never be but the nam-damma, literally the name of the thing; or, in other terms, the things of a purely intellectual nature. But it can by no means happen in the seats of the other senses or organs, such as the eyes, the ears, &c., which are only channels to communicate impressions to the faculty of mano.
 
The constitutive parts of meditation are five in number. Witteka, the action of raising the mind to an object; Witzara, the attentive consideration of that object; Piti, the bringing of the soul and body to a state of satisfaction; Suka, the pleasure enjoyed in the thing considered; Ekatta, the perseverance or stability of the mind in that object. There is also Upekka, which implies a greater and more intense degree of fixity of the mind, extending not only to one object in particular, but to all things.
 
It may be called the absolute quietism of the soul, and the net result of a complete course of general meditation on the universality of things. It is the last and highest point that can ever be reached.
 
To explain more fully the nature and definitions of the two first parts, our philosopher has recourse to the following comparison. Let us suppose a man that has to cleanse a rusty copper vessel. With one hand he grasps the vessel, and with the other he rubs it up and down, right and left. This is exactly what is done by the means of Witteka and Witzara. The first gets hold of the object of meditation, and the second causes the mind to pass and repass over it, until it has perfectly seen it in all its particulars.
 
The third stage in the exercise of meditation is that of Piti, which consists in a sort of transitory delectation, experienced by him who has reached that third step of mental labour. It produces on the whole frame the following[205] effects:—It seems to him that is engaged in that exercise that the hairs of his head stand on an end, so strong is the sensation he then feels; at other times it produces in the soul sensations similar to that of the lightning that rends the atmosphere. Sometimes it is in a commotion resembling that of mighty waves breaking on the shore; at other times the subject is, as it were, carried through the air, or only raised above the ground, and occasionally it causes a chill running throughout all the limbs. When these results have been, through persevering efforts, repeatedly experienced with an ever-increasing degree of intensity, the following effects are attained:—The body and the soul are completely restrained, subdued, and composed; they are almost beyond the influence of concupiscence. Both acquire a remarkable lightness, so that the exercise of meditation offers no further trouble or labour; the natural repugnance or opposition to self-recollection is done away with, then the exercise of meditation becomes pleasing from the pleasurable state of the soul and body, and finally both parts are in a true and genuine condition, so that what there was previously in them either vicious or opposed to truth disappears at once and vanishes away. Such are the various effects experienced by the soul that has reached the degree of Piti, or mental satisfaction.
 
When the soul and body have thus been perfectly subdued, and freed from all that could wrongly affect them, the soul then reaches the state of Suka, that is to say, of perfect and permanent pleasure and inward delight. The effects or results thereof are called Samati, or peace or quiescence of the soul. As a matter of course, that state of inward peace has several degrees both as regards the time it lasts and the intensity of the affection. It lasts sometimes for a moment, or for a period of uncertain duration, as it happens when we reflect on some subject, or we listen to a sermon. At other times its duration is longer; when, for instance, we are about to enter into contemplation[206] or ecstasy, and it lasts as long as we are in one of these states.
 
From Piti originates the Samati-tseit, the idea or consciousness of inward quiescence. It is the secondary cause of the real joy and delight, and is followed by an unshaken resolution to adhere to all the precepts of the law. It produces in the soul a certain freshness, expansion, and ravishment in the practice of virtue. Such a state is illustrated by the following comparison. A traveller has to go over a very difficult road; he is exposed to an intense heat, and tormented with a burning thirst. Let us imagine the intensity of his delight when he finds himself on the brink of a rivulet of clear and cool water; such is precisely the state of the soul under the influence of Piti. The state of Suka follows it very soon. It is exemplified by the condition of the traveller who has been perfectly refreshed and relieved from thirst and fatigue, and enjoys the delightful and pleasurable effects resulting therefrom.
 
The last state or the crowning point to be arrived at by the means of meditation is that of Upekka, or perfect fixity, whence originates an entire indifference to love or hatred, pleasure or pain. Passions can no more affect the soul in that happy condition. But in this, as well in the preceding states, there are several degrees, according to the various objects it refers to. In the Upekka, relating to the five senses, man is no more affected by beautiful or unseemly objects, by harsh or melodious sounds, &c. As to what refers to creatures, man has neither love nor dislike for them. Man obtains the state of Upekka, relating to science or knowledge, by examining and considering all things through the medium of the three great principles, aneitsa, duka, anatta, that is to say, change, pain, and illusion. There is also the uirya upekka; as when a man, after g............