Chapter VII: Part II (3)

“DIALOGO C. (p. ccxxiii.) For as it is but madnesse to trust to
moche in surete, so it is but foly to hope to moche of vanyteys, for
vayne be all erthly thinges longynge to men, as sayth Davyd, Psal.
xciiii: Wher of it is tolde in fablys that a lady uppon a tyme
delyvered to her mayden a _galon of mylke_ to sell at a cite, and by
the way, as she sate and restid her by a dyche side, she began to
thinke that with the money of the mylke she wold bye an henne, the
which shulde bringe forth chekyns, and when they were growyn to
hennys she wolde sell them and by piggis, and eschaunge them in to
shepe, and the shepe in to oxen, and so whan she was come to
richesse she sholde be maried right worshipfully unto some worthy
man, and thus she reioycid. And whan she was thus mervelously
comfortid and ravisshed inwardly in her secrete solace, thinkynge
with howe greate ioye she shuld be ledde towarde the chirche with
her husbond on horsebacke, she sayde to her self: ‘Goo we, goo we.’
Sodaynlye she smote the ground with her fote, myndynge to spurre the
horse, but her fote slypped, and she fell in the dyche, and there
lay all her mylke, and so she was farre from her purpose, and never
had that she hopid to have.”[35]

Here we have arrived at the end of our journey. It has been a long journey across fifteen or twenty centuries, and I am afraid our following Perrette from country to country, and from language to language, may have tired some of my hearers. I shall, therefore, not attempt to fill the gap that divides the fable of the thirteenth century from La Fontaine. Suffice it to say, that the milkmaid, having once taken the place of the Brahman, maintained it against all comers. We find her as Dona Truhana, in the famous “Conde Lucanor,” the work of the Infante Don Juan Manuel,[36] who died in 1347, the grandson of St. Ferdinand, the nephew of Alfonso the Wise, though himself not a king, yet more powerful than a king; renowned both by his sword and by his pen, and possibly not ignorant of Arabic, the language of his enemies. We find her again in the “Contes et Nouvelles” of Bonaventure des Periers, published in the sixteenth century, a book which we know that La Fontaine was well acquainted with. We find her after La Fontaine in all the languages of Europe.[37]

[Transcriber’s Note:

This large table could not be reproduced as printed, so the information has been split into two groups. The table itself gives only the years and languages of the translations, with their family relationship. The following lists then give the full text, again divided into two formats: the first strictly chronological, the second sorted by branches.

Words in [brackets] were added by the transcriber.]

A.D. OLD COLLECTION OF INDIAN FABLES.
|
500- 531-579 _Pehlevi_ (lost)
600 570 _Syriac_

700- 754-775 _Arabic_
800 _________|_________________________________________
| | | | |
1000- | | | | 1080
1100 | | | | Greek
| | | | |
1100- | | 1118-53 | _|_____
1200 | | Persian | | |
| | | | | |
1200- | 1289 | 1250 | |
1300 Latin Spanish | Hebrew | |
| | | | |
| | 1263-78 | |
| | Latin | |
| | ______|_______ | |
| | | | | |
1300- 1313 | [pre-1325] | | |
1400 Latin | German | | |
| | | |
1400- 1494 1493 | |
1500 Persian Spanish | |
_______________| | | |
| | | | | |
1500- 1590 “New” | 1540 1548 | |
1600 [Persian] | Turkish Italian | |
| | | ___________|___ | |
Hindustani | | | | | | |
| | 1552 | 1556 | |
| | Italian | French | |
| | |_________|______ | |
| | | | | |
| | 1570 1579 | 1583
| | English French | Italian
1600- 1644 | |
1700 French |--1654 Spanish 1666
| Latin
1700- 1724

1800 French

[Full text, by date:]

531-579. Khosru Nushirvan, King of Persia; his physician, Barzûyeh, translates the Indian fables into _Pehlevi_, s. t. “Qalilag and Damnag” (lost).

570. Translation of the “Qualilag and Damnag,” from Indian into _Syriac_, by Bud Periodeutes (Benfey and Socin).

754-775. Khalif Almansur. Abdallah ibn Almokaffa (d. 760) translates the Pehlevi into _Arabic_ (ed. de Sacy, 1816).

1080. Into _Greek_, by Simeon Seth, s. t. “Ichnelates et Stephanites,” ed. Starkius, 1697.

1118-53. Into _Persian_, by Abul Maali Nasr Allah (prose).

Into _Latin_ by Baldo, s. t. Alter Æsopus (ed. du Méril).

1250. Into _Hebrew_, by Rabbi Joel.

1263-78. Into _Latin_, by Johannes of Capua, s. t. “Directorium humanæ vitæ” (print. 1480).

1289. Into _Spanish_, by order of the Infante Don Alfonso, s. t. “Calila é Dymna” (ed. de Gayangos)

1313. Into _Latin_, by Raimond de Beziers, s. t. “Calila et Dimna.”

Into _German_ under Eberhard, Duke of Würtemberg (d. 1325), printed before 1483.

1400-1500

1493. Into _Spanish_, s. t. “Exemplario contra los Engaños.”

1494. Modernized in _Persian_, by Husain ben Ali, el Vaez, s. t. “Anvari Suhaili.”

1540. Into _Turkish_, by Ali Tchelebi, s. t. “Homayun Nameh.”

1548. Into _Italian_, by Ange Firenzuola, s. t. “Discorsi degli Animali.”

1552. Into _Italian_, by Doni, s. t. “La Filosofia Morale.”

1556. Into _French_, by Gabr. Cottier, s. t. “Le Plaisant Discours des Animaux.”

1570. Into _English_, by North.

1579. Into _French_, by Pierre de La Rivey, s. t. “Deux Livres de Filosofie Fabuleuse.”

1583. Into _Italian_, by G. Nuti, s. t. “Del Governo de’ Regni.”

1590. New, by Abulfazl, for Akbar, “Ayari Danish.”

Translated into _Hindustani_, s. t. “Khirud Ufroz,” the Illuminator of the Understanding.

1644. Into _French_, by David Sahid d’Ispahan (Gaulmin), s. t. “Livre des Lumières, ou la Conduite des Rois, composé par le sage Pilpay, Indien” (4 cap. only).

Into _Spanish_, by Brattuti, “Espejo politico,” 1654.

1666. Into _Latin_, by Petrus Possinus.

1724. Into _French_, by Galland, s. t. “Les Contes et Fables Indiennes de Bibpaï et de Lokman” (4 cap. only); finished in 1778 by Cardonne.

[Full text, by branches; each added indentation is a new branch.]

Into _Latin_ by Baldo, s. t. Alter Æsopus (ed. du Méril).

1289. Into _Spanish_, by order of the Infante Don Alfonso, s. t.
“Calila é Dymna” (ed. de Gayangos)
1313. Into _Latin_, by Raimond de Beziers, s. t. “Calila et Dimna.”

1118-53. Into _Persian_, by Abul Maali Nasr Allah (prose).
1494. Modernized in _Persian_, by Husain ben Ali, el Vaez, s. t.
“Anvari Suhaili.”
a: 1590. New, by Abulfazl, for Akbar, “Ayari Danish.”
a: Translated into _Hindustani_, s. t. “Khirud Ufroz,” the
Illuminator of the Understanding.
b: 1644. Into _French_, by David Sahid d’Ispahan (Gaulmin), s. t.
“Livre des Lumières, ou la Conduite des Rois, composé par le
sage Pilpay, Indien” (4 cap. only).
c: 1540. Into _Turkish_, by Ali Tchelebi, s. t. “Homayun Nameh.”
c: Into _Spanish_, by Brattuti, “Espejo politico,” 1654.
c: 1724. Into _French_, by Galland, s. t. “Les Contes et Fables
Indiennes de Bibpaï et de Lokman” (4 cap. only); finished in
1778 by Cardonne.

1250. Into _Hebrew_, by Rabbi Joel.
1263-78. Into _Latin_, by Johannes of Capua, s. t. “Directorium
humanæ vitæ” (print. 1480).
a: Into _German_ under Eberhard, Duke of Würtemberg (d. 1325),
printed before 1483.
b: 1493. Into _Spanish_, s. t. “Exemplario contra los Engaños.”
b: 1548. Into _Italian_, by Ange Firenzuola, s. t. “Discorsi
degli Animali.”
b: 1552. Into _Italian_, by Doni, s. t. “La Filosofia Morale.”
b: 1556. Into _French_, by Gabr. Cottier, s. t. “Le Plaisant
Discours des Animaux.”
b: 1570. Into _English_, by North.
b: 1579. Into _French_, by Pierre de La Rivey, s. t. “Deux
Livres de Filosofie Fabuleuse.”

1080. Into _Greek_, by Simeon Seth, s. t. “Ichnelates et
Stephanites,” ed. Starkius, 1697.
1583. Into _Italian_, by G. Nuti, s. t. “Del Governo de’
Regni.”
1666. Into _Latin_, by Petrus Possinus.

You see now before your eyes the bridge on which our fables came to us from East to West. The same bridge which brought us Perrette brought us hundreds of fables, all originally sprung up in India, many of them carefully collected by Buddhist priests, and preserved in their sacred canon, afterwards handed on to the Brahminic writers of a later age, carried by Barzûyeh from India to the court of Persia, then to the courts of the Khalifs at Bagdad and Cordova, and of the emperors at Constantinople. Some of them, no doubt, perished on their journey, others were mixed up together, others were changed till we should hardly know them again. Still, if you once know the eventful journey of Perrette, you know the journey of all the other fables that belong to this Indian cycle. Few of them have gone through so many changes, few of them have found so many friends, whether in the courts of kings or in the huts of beggars. Few of them have been to places where Perrette has not also been. This is why I selected her and her passage through the world as the best illustration of a subject which otherwise would require a whole course of lectures to do it justice.

But though our fable represents one large class or cluster of fables, it does not represent all. There were several collections, besides the Pancatantra, which found their way from India to Europe. The most important among them is the “Book of the Seven Wise Masters, or the Book of Sindbad,” the history of which has lately been written, with great learning and ingenuity, by Signor Comparetti.[38]

These large collections of fables and stories mark what may be called the high roads on which the literary products of the East were carried to the West. But there are, beside these high roads, some smaller, less trodden paths on which single fables, sometimes mere proverbs, similes, or metaphors, have come to us from India, from Persepolis, from Damascus and Bagdad. I have already alluded to the powerful influence which Arabic literature exercised on Western Europe through Spain. Again, a most active interchange of Eastern and Western ideas took place at a later time during the progress of the Crusades. Even the inroads of Mongolian tribes into Russia and the East of Europe kept up a literary bartering between Oriental and Occidental nations.

But few would have suspected a Father of the Church as an importer of Eastern fables. Yet so it is.

At the court of the same Khalif Almansur, where Abdallah ibn Almokaffa translated the fables of Calila and Dimna from Persian into Arabic, there lived a Christian of the name of Sergius, who for many years held the high office of treasurer to the Khalif. He had a son to whom he gave the best education that could then be given, his chief tutor being one Cosmas, an Italian monk, who had been taken prisoner by the Saracens, and sold as a slave at Bagdad. After the death of Sergius, his son succeeded him for some time as chief councillor (πρωτοσύμβουλος) to the Khalif Almansur. Such, however, had been the influence of the Italian monk on his pupil’s mind, that he suddenly resolved to retire from the world, and to devote himself to study, meditation, and pious works. From the monastery of St. Saba, near Jerusalem, this former minister of the Khalif issued the most learned works on theology, particularly his “Exposition of the Orthodox Faith.” He soon became the highest authority on matters of dogma in the Eastern Church, and he still holds his place among the saints both of the Eastern and Western Churches. His name was Joannes, and from being born at Damascus, the former capital of the Khalifs, he is best known in history as Joannes Damascenus, or St. John of Damascus. He must have known Arabic, and probably Persian; but his mastery of Greek earned him, later in life, the name of Chrysorrhoas, or Gold-flowing. He became famous as the defender of the sacred images, and as the determined opponent of the Emperor Leo the Isaurian, about 726. It is difficult in his life to distinguish between legend and history, but that he had held high office at the court of the Khalif Almansur, that he boldly opposed the iconoclastic policy of the Emperor Leo, and that he wrote the most learned theological works of his time, cannot be easily questioned.

Among the works ascribed to him is a story called “Barlaam and Joasaph.”[39] There has been a fierce controversy as to whether he was the author of it or not. Though for our own immediate purposes it would be of little consequence whether the book was written by Joannes Damascenus or by some less distinguished ecclesiastic, I must confess that the arguments hitherto adduced against his authorship seem to me very weak.

The Jesuits did not like the book, because it was a religious novel. They pointed to a passage in which the Holy Ghost is represented as proceeding from the Father “and the Son,” as incompatible with the creed of an Eastern ecclesiastic. That very passage, however, has now been proved to be spurious; and it should be borne in mind, besides, that the controversy on the procession of the Holy Ghost from the Father and the Son, or from the Father through the Son, dates a century later than Joannes. The fact, again, that the author does not mention Mohammedanism,[40] proves nothing against the authorship of Joannes, because, as he places Barlaam and Joasaph in the early centuries of Christianity, he would have ruined his story by any allusion to Mohammed’s religion, then only a hundred years old. Besides, he had written a separate work, in which the relative merits of Christianity and Mohammedanism are discussed. The prominence given to the question of the worship of images shows that the story could not have been written much before the time of Joannes Damascenus, and there is nothing in the style of our author that could be pointed out as incompatible with the style of the great theologian. On the contrary, the author of “Barlaam and Joasaph” quotes the same authors whom Joannes Damascenus quotes most frequently--_e.g._, Basilius and Gregorius Nazianzenus. And no one but Joannes could have taken long passages from his own works without saying where he borrowed them.[41]

The story of “Barlaam and Joasaph”--or, as he is more commonly called, Josaphat--may be told in a few words: “A king in India, an enemy and persecutor of the Christians, has an only son. The astrologers have predicted that he would embrace the new doctrine. His father, therefore, tries by all means in his power to keep him ignorant of the miseries of the world, and to create in him a taste for pleasure and enjoyment. A Christian hermit, however, gains access to the prince, and instructs him in the doctrines of the Christian religion. The young prince is not only baptized, but resolves to give up all his earthly riches; and after having converted his own father and many of his subjects, he follows his teacher into the desert.”

The real object of the book is to give a simple exposition of the principal doctrines of the Christian religion. It also contains a first attempt at comparative theology, for in the course of the story there is a disputation on the merits of the principal religions of the world--the Chaldæan, the Egyptian, the Greek, the Jewish, and the Christian. But one of the chief attractions of this manual of Christian theology consisted in a number of fables and parables with which it is enlivened. Most of them have been traced to an Indian source. I shall mention one only which has found its way into almost every literature of the world:[42]--

“A man was pursued by a unicorn, and while he tried to flee from it,
he fell into a pit. In falling he stretched out both his arms, and
laid hold of a small tree that was growing on one side of the pit.
Having gained a firm footing, and holding to the tree, he fancied he
was safe, when he saw two mice, a black and a white one, busy
gnawing the root of the tree to which he was clinging. Looking down
into the pit, he perceived a horrid dragon with his mouth wide open,
ready to devour him, and when examining the place on which his feet
rested, the heads of four serpents glared at him. Then he looked up,
and observed drops of honey falling down from the tree to which he
clung. Suddenly the unicorn, the dragon, the mice, and the serpents
were all forgotten, and his mind was intent only on catching the
drops of sweet honey trickling down from the tree.”

An explanation is hardly required. The unicorn is Death, always chasing man; the pit is the world; the small tree is man’s life, constantly gnawed by the black and the white mouse--_i.e._, by night and day; the four serpents are the four elements which compose the human body; the dragon below is meant for the jaws of hell. Surrounded by all those horrors, man is yet able to forget them all, and to think only of the pleasures of life, which, like a few drops of honey, fall into his mouth from the tree of life.[43]

But what is still more curious is, that the author of “Barlaam and Josaphat” has evidently taken his very hero, the Indian Prince Josaphat, from an Indian source. In the “Lalita Vistara”--the life, though no doubt the legendary life, of Buddha--the father of Buddha is a king. When his son is born, the Brahman Asita predicts that he will rise to great glory, and become either a powerful king, or, renouncing the throne and embracing the life of a hermit become a Buddha.[44] The great object of his father is to prevent this. He therefore keeps the young prince, when he grows up, in his garden and palaces, surrounded by all pleasures which might turn his mind from contemplation to enjoyment. More especially he is to know nothing of illness, old age, and death, which might open his eyes to the misery and unreality of life. After a time, however, the prince receives permission to drive out; and then follow the four drives,[45] so famous in Buddhist history. The places where these drives took place were commemorated by towers still standing in the time of Fa Hian’s visit to India, early in the fifth century after Christ, and even in the time of Hiouen Thsang, in the seventh century. I shall read you a short account of the three drives:[46]--

“One day when the prince with a large retinue was driving through
the eastern gate of the city, on the way to one of his parks, he met
on the road an old man, broken and decrepit. One could see the veins
and muscles over the whole of his body, his teeth chattered, he was
covered with wrinkles, bald, and hardly able to utter hollow and
unmelodious sounds. He was bent on his stick, and all his limbs and
joints trembled. ‘Who is that man?’ said the prince to his coachman.
‘He is small and weak, his flesh and his blood are dried up, his
muscles stick to his skin, his head is white, his teeth chatter, his
body is wasted away; leaning on his stick, he is hardly able to
walk, stumbling at every step. Is there something peculiar in his
family, or is this the common lot of all created beings?’

“‘Sir,’ replied the coachman, ‘that man is sinking under old age,
his senses have become obtuse, suffering has destroyed his strength,
and he is despised by his relations. He is without support and
useless, and people have abandoned him, like a dead tree in a
forest. But this is not peculiar to his family. In every creature
youth is defeated by old age. Your father, your mother, all your
relations, all your friends, will come to the same state; this is
the appointed end of all creatures.’

“‘Alas!’ replied the prince, ‘are creatures so ignorant, so weak and
foolish as to be proud of the youth by which they are intoxicated,
not seeing the old age which awaits them? As for me, I go away.
Coachman, turn my chariot quickly. What have I, the future prey of
old age--what have I to do with pleasure?’ And the young prince
returned to the city without going to the park.

“Another time the prince was driving through the southern gate to
his pleasure-garden, when he perceived on the road a man suffering
from illness, parched with fever, his body wasted, covered with mud,
without a friend, without a home, hardly able to breathe, and
frightened at the sight of himself, and the approach of death.
Having questioned his coachman, and received from him the answer
which he expected, the young prince said, ‘Alas! health is but the
sport of a dream, and the fear of suffering must take this frightful
form. Where is the wise man who, after having seen what he is, could
any longer think of joy and pleasure?’ The prince turned his
chariot, and returned to the city.

“A third time he was driving to his pleasure-garden through the
western gate, when he saw a dead body on the road, lying on a bier
and covered with a cloth. The friends stood about crying, sobbing,
tearing their hair, covering their heads with dust, striking their
breasts, and uttering wild cries. The prince, again, calling his
coachman to witness this painful scene, exclaimed, ‘Oh, woe to
youth, which must be destroyed by old age! Woe to health, which must
be destroyed by so many diseases! Woe to this life, where a man
remains so short a time! If there were no old age, no disease, no
death; if these could be made captive forever!’ Then, betraying for
the first time his intentions, the young prince said, ‘Let us turn
back, I must think how to accomplish deliverance.’

“A last meeting put an end to hesitation. He was driving through the
northern gate on the way to his pleasure-gardens, when he saw a
mendicant, who appeared outwardly calm, subdued, looking downwards,
wearing with an air of dignity his religious vestment, and carrying
an alms-bowl.

“‘Who is that man?’ asked the prince.

“‘Sir,’ replied the coachman, ‘this man is one of those who are
called Bhikshus, or mendicants. He has renounced all pleasures, all
desires, and leads a life of austerity. He tries to conquer himself.
He has become a devotee. Without passion, without envy, he walks
about asking for alms.’

“‘This is good and well said,’ replied the prince. ‘The life of a
devotee has always been praised by the wise. It will be my refuge,
and the refuge of other creatures; it will lead us to a real life,
to happiness and immortality.’

“With these words the young prince turned his chariot, and returned
to the city.”

If we now compare the story of Joannes of Damascus, we find that the early life of Josaphat is exactly the same as that of Buddha. His father is a king, and after the birth of his son, an astrologer predicts that he will rise to glory; not, however, in his own kingdom, but in a higher and better one; in fact, that he will embrace the new and persecuted religion of the Christians. Everything is done to prevent this. He is kept in a beautiful palace, surrounded by all that is enjoyable; and great care is taken to keep him in ignorance of sickness, old age, and death. After a time, however, his father gives him leave to drive out. On one of his drives he sees two men, one maimed, the other blind. He asks what they are, and is told that they are suffering from disease. He then inquires whether all men are liable to disease, and whether it is known beforehand who will suffer from disease and who will be free; and when he hears the truth, he becomes sad, and returns home. Another time, when he drives out, he meets an old man with wrinkled face and shaking legs, bent down, with white hair, his teeth gone, and his voice faltering. He asks again what all this means, and is told that this is what happens to all men; and that no one can escape old age, and that in the end all men must die. Thereupon he returns home to meditate on death, till at last a hermit appears,[47] and opens before his eyes a higher view of life, as contained in the Gospel of Christ.

No one, I believe, can read these two stories without feeling convinced that one was borrowed from the other; and as Fa Hian, three hundred years before John of Damascus, saw the towers which commemorated the three drives of Buddha still standing among the ruins of the royal city of Kapilavastu, it follows that the Greek father borrowed his subject from the Buddhist scriptures. Were it necessary, it would be easy to point out still more minute coincidences between the life of Josaphat and of Buddha, the founder of the Buddhist religion. Both in the end convert their royal fathers, both fight manfully against the assaults of the flesh and the devil, both are regarded as saints before they die. Possibly even a proper name may have been transferred from the sacred canon of the Buddhists to the pages of the Greek writer. The driver who conducts Buddha when he flees by night from his palace where he leaves his wife, his only son, and all his treasures, in order to devote himself to a contemplative life, is called Chandaka, in Burmese, Sanna.[48] The friend and companion of Barlaam is called Zardan.[49] Reinaud in his “Mémoire sur l’Inde,” p. 91 (1849), was the first, it seems, to point out that Youdasf, mentioned by Massoudi as the founder of the Sabæan religion, and Youasaf, mentioned as the founder of Buddhism by the author of the “Kitáb-al-Fihrist,” are both meant for Bodhisattva, a corruption quite intelligible with the system of transcribing that name with Persian letters. Professor Benfey has identified Theudas, the sorcerer in “Barlaam and Joasaph,” with the Devadatta of the Buddhist scriptures.[50]

How palpable these coincidences are between the two stories is best shown by the fact that they were pointed out, independently of each other, by scholars in France, Germany, and England. I place France first, because in point of time M. Laboulaye was the first who called attention to it in one of his charming articles in the “Debats.”[51] A more detailed comparison was given by Dr. Liebrecht.[52] And, lastly, Mr. Beal, in his translation of the “Travels of Fa Hian,”[53] called attention to the same fact--viz., that the story of Josaphat was borrowed from the “Life of Buddha.” I could mention the names of two or three scholars besides who happened to read the two books, and who could not help seeing, what was as clear as daylight, that Joannes Damascenus took the principal character of his religious novel from the “Lalita Vistara,” one of the sacred books of the Buddhists; but the merit of having been the first belongs to M. Laboulaye.

This fact is, no doubt, extremely curious in the history of literature; but there is another fact connected with it which is more than curious, and I wonder that it has never been pointed out before. It is well known that the story of “Barlaam and Josaphat” became a most popular book during the Middle Ages. In the East it was translated into Syriac(?), Arabic, Ethiopic, Armenian, and Hebrew; in the West it exists in Latin, French, Italian, German, English, Spanish, Bohemian, and Polish. As early as 1204, a King of Norway translated it into Icelandic, and at a later time it was translated by a Jesuit missionary into Tagala, the classical language of the Philippine Islands. But this is not all, Barlaam and Josaphat have actually risen to the rank of saints, both in the Eastern and in the Western churches. In the Eastern church the 26th of August is the saints’ day of Barlaam and Josaphat; in the Roman Martyrologium, the 27th of November is assigned to them.

There have been from time to time misgivings about the historical character of these two saints. Leo Allatius, in his “Prolegomena,” ventured to ask the question, whether the story of “Barlaam and Josaphat” was more real than the “Cyropædia” of Xenophon, or the “Utopia” of Thomas More; but, _en bon Catholique_, he replied, that as Barlaam and Josaphat were mentioned, not only in the Menæa of the Greek, but also in the Martyrologium of the Roman Church, he could not bring himself to believe that their history was imaginary. Billius thought that to doubt the concluding words of the author, who says that he received the story of “Barlaam and Josaphat” from men incapable of falsehood, would be to trust more in one’s own suspicions than in Christian charity, which believeth all things. Bellarminus thought he could prove the truth of the story by the fact that, at the end of it, the author himself invokes the two saints Barlaam and Josaphat! Leo Allatius admitted, indeed, that some of the speeches and conversations occurring in the story might be the work of Joannes Damascenus, because Josaphat, having but recently been converted, could not have quoted so many passages from the Bible. But he implies that even this could be explained, because the Holy Ghost might have taught St. Josaphat what to say. At all events, Leo has no mercy for those “quibus omnia sub sanctorum nomine prodita male olent, quemadmodum de sanctis Georgio, Christophoro, Hippolyto, Catarina, aliisque nusquam eos in rerum natura extitisse impudentissime nugantur.” The Bishop of Avranches had likewise his doubts; but he calmed them by saying: “Non pas que je veuille soustenir que tout en soit supposé: il y auroit de la témerité à desavouer qu’il y ait jamais eû de Barlaam ni de Josaphat. Le témoignage du Martyrologe, qui les met au nombre des Saints, et leur intercession que Saint Jean Damascene reclame à la fin de cette histoire ne permettent pas d’en douter.”[54]

With us the question as to the historical or purely imaginary character of Josaphat has assumed a new and totally different aspect. We willingly accept the statement of Joannes Damascenus that the story of “Barlaam and Josaphat” was told him by men who came from India. We know that in India a story was current of a prince who lived in the sixth century B.C., a prince of whom it was predicted that he would resign the throne, and devote his life to meditation, in order to rise to the rank of a Buddha. The story tells us that his father did everything to prevent this; that he kept him in a palace secluded from the world, surrounded by all that makes life enjoyable; and that he tried to keep him in ignorance of sickness, old age, and death. We know from the same story that at last the young prince obtained permission to drive into the country, and that, by meeting an old man, a sick man, and a corpse, his eyes were opened to the unreality of life, and the vanity of this life’s pleasures; that he escaped from his palace, and, after defeating the assaults of all adversaries, became the founder of a new religion. This is the story, it may be the legendary story, but at all events the recognized story of Gautama Śâkyamuni, best known to us under the name of Buddha.

If, then, Joannes Damascenus tells the same story, only putting the name of Joasaph or Josaphat, _i.e._, Bodhisattva, in the place of Buddha; if all that is human and personal in the life of St. Josaphat is taken from the “Lalita Vistara”--what follows? It follows that, in the same sense in which La Fontaine’s Perrette is the Brahman of the Pañcatantra, St. Josaphat is the Buddha of the Buddhist canon. It follows that Buddha has become a saint in the Roman Church; it follows that, though under a different name, the sage of Kapilavastu, the founder of a religion which, whatever we may think of its dogma, is, in the purity of its morals, nearer to Christianity than any other religion, and which counts even now, after an existence of 2,400 years, 455,000,000 of believers, has received the highest honors that the Christian Church can bestow. And whatever we may think of the sanctity of saints, let those who doubt the right of Buddha to a place among them read the story of his life as it is told in the Buddhist canon. If he lived the life which is there described, few saints have a better claim to the title than Buddha; and no one either in the Greek or in the Roman Church need be ashamed of having paid to Buddha’s memory the honor that was intended for St. Josaphat, the prince, the hermit, and the saint.

History, here as elsewhere, is stranger than fiction; and a kind fairy, whom men call Chance, has here, as elsewhere, remedied the ingratitude and injustice of the world.