Do not kill; do not steal; do not lie; do not drink intoxicating drinks; do not commit fornication or adultery; do not eat unseasonable food at night; do not wear garlands or use perfumes; sleep on a mat spread on the ground.

The first five of these commands are given to every Buddhist, monk, or layman; the last three are binding only on the monk.[26]

These laws and rules were, however, as we have indicated in the chapter on Jainism, the common property, with some unimportant variations and exceptions, of the Brahman ascetic, the Jain, and the Buddhist.  There was surely nothing here to rouse especial interest.  No.  But there was one side of Buddhism that was new, not absolutely new, for it formed part of the moral possession of that early band which we may call the congregation of the Spirit.  The Brahman theoretically had done away with penance and with prayer, with the Vedic gods and with the Vedic rites.  Yet was it impossible for him practically to absolve the folk of these.  The priest might admit that he knew a better way to salvation, but he still led the people over the hard old road, and he himself went that way also, because it was the way of the fathers, because it was the only way for them that were unwise, and perhaps, too, because it was the only way in which the priest could keep his place as guide and leader of the people.

Jainism smote down some of the obstacles that the Brahman had built and kept.  Mah[=a]v[=i]ra made the way to salvation shorter, but he did not make it easier for the masses.  Asceticism, self-mortification, starvation, torture,—­this was his means of gaining happiness hereafter.

But Buddha cut down all obstacles.  He made the lowest equal with the highest.  It is true that he was no democrat.  It is true that his success depended, in great part, on political influence, on the conversion of kings and nobles, men of his own class.  It is true also that Buddha at first, like every other Hindu theosophist, sought no salvation for the world around him, but only for himself.  But he was moved with pity for the multitude.  And why?  The sages among them knew no path to happiness save through life-long torture; the common people knew only a religion of rites in which they took no interest, the very words of which were unintelligible; and its priests in their eyes, if not contemptible, at least were unsympathetic.  And at the same time the old caste-system oppressed and insulted them.  It is evident that the times were ripe for a more humane religion and a new distribution of social privileges.  Then Buddha arose and said:  “He that is pure in heart is the true priest, not he that knows the Veda.  Like unto one that standeth where a king hath stood and spoken, and standing and speaking there deems himself for this a king, seems to me the man that repeateth the hymns, which the wise men of old have spoken, and standing in their place and speaking, deems himself for this a sage.  The Vedas are nothing, the priests are of no account, save as they be morally of repute.  Again, what use to mortify the flesh?  Asceticism is of no value.  Be pure, be good; this is the foundation of wisdom—­to restrain desire, to be satisfied with little.  He is a holy man who doeth this.  Knowledge follows this.”