Note 23 — Chapter II

What is Neibban, the end a true Buddhist ever longs for throughout his great struggles in the practice of virtue and his constant efforts for attaining the knowledge of truth, which he finally reaches when he has become perfect? The writer confesses at once his inability to answer satisfactorily this question, because Buddhists do not agree among themselves in explaining the nature of the state of Neibban. From the earliest period of their religion we see the Brahmins keenly taunting their opponents for the discordance of their opinions on a subject of the utmost importance—a subject which had ever been prominent in Buddha’s teachings, and held up as the only one worthy of the most earnest and ardent desires, the fittest reward of the generous and extraordinary exertions of a perfected being, and the final state in which his soul, wearied after such a prolonged spiritual warfare, longed to rest for ever. A certain school of Buddhists has maintained that Neibban implied the destruction of the state of being, and consequently complete annihilation. This opinion is at once practically rejected by the portion of the southern Buddhists, who are not so well acquainted with the more philosophical part of their creed. They assert that a perfected being, after having reached Neibban, or having arrived at the end of his last existence, retains his individuality, but they utterly fail in their attempts at explaining the situation and condition of a being in Neibban. At a later period the opinion about a supreme Buddha, uncreated, eternal, and infinite, began to gain ground, and modified to a considerable extent on many points the views of the earlier Buddhists. Neibban, according to the comparatively modern school, is but an absorption into the supreme and infinite Buddha. This opinion so much approximates to that of the Brahmins that we may say it is almost the same. The means of obtaining perfection are somewhat different in both systems, but the end to be obtained is precisely the same.

Setting aside idle speculations, let us try to form some idea of Neibban by explaining the meaning of the term, and the definition such as we find it in the Burmese writings.

The word Neibban, in Sanscrit Nirvana, according to its etymology, means what is no more agitated, what is in a state of perfect calm. It is composed of the negative prefix nir and va, which means to be set in motion, as the wind. It implies the idea of rest in opposition to that of motion or existence. To be in the state of Neibban is therefore to be carried beyond the range of existence, as understood by Buddhists; there can be no longer migration from one state of being to another. This point is admitted by all sects of Buddhists. To the idea of Neibban is often attached that of extinction, as a lamp which ceases to burn and whose light becomes extinct when the oil is exhausted. The sum of existence being exhausted, a being ceases to be or to move within the range of existence; he becomes extinct relatively, at least to all kind of existences we have a notion of. In conversing with the Buddhists of Burmah, the writer has observed that the ideas of rest and extinction are invariably coupled with the notion of Neibban. In their rough attempt at explaining the inexplicable nature of that state they had recourse to several comparisons intended to convey to the mind that they believed Neibban to be a state of undisturbed calm and a never-ending cessation of existence, at least such as we have an idea of in this world. When questioned on the situation of Buddha in Neibban, they answer that they believe him to be in a boundless space or vacuum beyond the boundaries ever reached by other beings, alone by himself, enjoying, if the expression be correct, a perfect rest, unconcerned about this world, having no further relation with all existing beings. They assert that he is to remain for ever a stranger to all sensations of either pain or pleasure. But it must be borne in mind that this is the popular opinion rather than the philosophical one. Talking one evening with a well-informed Burman on Neibban, the light of a lamp that was burning on the writer’s table happened to die away for want of oil. The Buddhist, with an exulting tone of voice, exclaimed, “Do not ask any more what Neibban is; what has happened to the lamp just now, tells you what Neibban is. The lamp is extinct because there is no more oil in the glass. A man is in Neibban at the very moment that the principle or cause of existence is at an end or entirely exhausted.” How far such an answer can satisfy a superficial mind like that of a half-civilised Burman, it is difficult to say; but it appears certain that he does not carry his researches nor pursue his inquiries beyond these narrow boundaries. Any further attempt to penetrate deeper into the darkness of Neibban is, in his opinion, presumptuous and rash.

Buddhist metaphysicians in India, in their foolish efforts to survey that terra incognita, have originated several opinions that have had their supporters in the various schools of philosophy. The more ancient philosophers or heads of schools, in attempting to give an analysis of a thing they knew nothing about, approximated to the opinion that Neibban is nothing more or less than a complete or entire annihilation. Following the course of arguments, and admitting their premises, one is reluctantly compelled to come to the awful conclusion that the final end of a perfected Buddha is the destruction of his being, or annihilation. This opinion is still further corroborated by the short exposition of Buddhist metaphysics at the end of this volume. The crudest materialism is openly and distinctly professed. There is nothing in man distinct from the six senses. The faculty of perceiving the object they come in contact with is inherent in their nature. The sixth sense, that is to say, the heart, has the power of perceiving ideas, that is to say, things that have no form or shape. But this power is not distinct from the living sense; it disappears when the life of that sense is extinct, or, in other terms, when the heart is destroyed. To the holders of such an opinion the cessation of existence, the going out of the circle of existences, by the destruction of kan, or the influence of merits and demerits, must be and cannot but be complete annihilation.

From a long period the plain sense of the masses of believers, unprejudiced by sophistical bias, revolted against such a doctrine, and at once rejected the horrible conclusion arrived at by former disputants. No one in practice openly admits that Neibban and annihilation are synonymous terms. If their views can be properly understood, we may infer from what they say that a being in Neibban retains his individuality, though isolated from all that is distinct from self. He sees the abstract truth, or truth as it is in itself, divested of the material forms under which we in our present state of existence but imperfectly see it. Passions and affections are not to be found in such a being; his position, in truth, can scarcely be understood and still less expressed by us, who can never come in communication with an object but through our passions and affections. We know that there exists a spiritual substance, but we can have no distinct idea of it. We vouch for its existence by what we observe of its operations, but it is impossible for us to explain its nature. It is not, therefore, surprising that Buddhists should be at a loss to account for the state in which a perfected being is when in Neibban. The idea of a state of apathy or rest must be understood as expressing simply a situation quite opposite to that of motion, in which all beings are as long as they are within the pale of existences. If it be admitted that the perfected being retains in Neibban his individuality, it must be inferred that he becomes, as it were, merged into the abstract truth in which he lives and rests for ever. But we must distinctly state anew that this view is in opposition to the doctrines of the earliest Buddhists, and the philosophical principles and inferences maintained as genuine. This contradiction illustrates the truth of a remark made above, that error can never entirely obliterate from man’s mind the knowledge of certain fundamental truths, which are almost constitutive of his moral being.

Let us come now to a definition of Neibban translated from Pali by the Burmans. Neibban is the end of all existences, the exemption from the action of kan, i.e., the good or bad influence produced by merits or demerits; of Tsit, i.e., the principle of all volitions, desires, and passions; of the seasons, and of taste or sensations. What means this rather curious, not to say almost unintelligible, definition? To understand it the reader must be aware that kan is the principle which causes all beings to move incessantly from one existence into another, from a state of happiness to one of unhappiness, from a position where merits are acquired into another where further merits are to be obtained and greater proficiency in perfection secured, from a state of punishment or demerits into a worse one, &c. Kan may be called the soul of transmigration, the hidden spring of all the changes experienced by an existing being. In Neibban the law of kan is destroyed, and therefore there are no more changes or transmigrations.

By Tsit is understood the principle of all volitions and desires. Buddhist metaphysicians, always fond of divisions and classifications, reckon one hundred and twenty Tsits. Some are the root of all demerits, and their opposites are the principles of merits. Some have for object matter this material world; others have for object the immaterial world, or, as I believe, ideas and things that have no form. The last of tsits, and of course the most perfect, is entire fixity. This is the last stage ever to be reached by a perfected being in the world of existences. One step further, and he has reached the undisturbed shores of Neibban. In that latter state there is no more operation of the mind or of the heart; or at least there is no intellectual working, such as we conceive it in our actual condition.

The word Udoo, or season, is evidently used for designating a revolution of nature. The meaning is obvious, and affords no difficulty. In Neibban there is neither nature nor revolutions of nature. Neibban, if a state it be, lies in vacuum or space far beyond the extensive horizon that encircles the world or worlds, or systems of nature.

The word Ahara, which literally means taste, is intended to designate all sensations acquired through the senses. By means of the senses, indeed, we obtain perceptions and acquire knowledge; but the perfected being having come to the possession of universal science, no further knowledge is needed; the senses are, therefore, useless. The senses, moreover, are the appendage of our nature, as it is during its existences. Neibban putting an end to further existences, it destroys also the constituent parts or portions of our being.

Admitting that the above definition of Neibban is a correct one, and that it has been understood in a purely Buddhistic sense, we may conclude that in that state there is no more influence, and consequently no transmigration, no volition of the mind, no desires of the heart, no materiality, and no sensations. The difficulty as to whether Neibban is annihilation seems all but entirely and completely solved. There is another way of arriving at a similar conclusion. Let us ascertain what are the constituent parts of an intelligent being, and then inquire whether these parts are entirely destroyed and annihilated in Neibban. In an intelligent being, according to all doctors, we find materiality, sensations, perceptions, consciousness, and intellect. These five aggregates constitute a thinking being. These, assert the same doctors, do not exist in Neibban; they are destroyed. One word more and the question would be settled; but that word has not been, at least to my knowledge, ever distinctly uttered. It is probable that these five aggregates or component parts are, in the opinion of many, the conditions of existence such as we now understand it. But it would be too hasty to conclude that a being under different conditions of existence could not retain his individuality though deprived of these five component parts. Buddhists, as already said, have very imperfect notions of a spiritual substance. It is not surprising, therefore, that they cannot express themselves in a manner more distinct, precise, and intelligible when they treat of subjects so abstruse and difficult. In practice they admit the existence of something distinct from matter, and surviving in man after the destruction of the material portion of his being; but their attempts at giving a satisfactory explanation of the nature of that surviving individuality have always proved abortive. In their process of arguing the learned reject such an admission.

The question, as may be inferred from the foregoing lines, if considered in the light of purely theoretical notions, is philosophically left little open to discussion, though it will probably ever remain without a perfect solution. But the logical inferences to be deduced from the principles of genuine Buddhism inevitably lead to the dark, cold, and horrifying abyss of annihilation. If examined from a practical point of view, that is to say, taking into account the opinions of the masses of Buddhists, the difficulty may be considered as resolved too, but in an opposite sense.