animals go beyond what is usual in secular law.  But he expressly refrains from requiring adherence to any particular sect.  On the other hand there is no lack of definite patronage of Buddhism.  He institutes edifying processions, he goes on pilgrimages to sacred sites, he addresses the Sangha as to the most important parts of the scriptures, and we may infer that he did his best to spread the knowledge of those scriptures.  Though he says nothing about it in the Edicts which have been discovered, he erected numerous religious buildings including the Sanchi tope and the original temple at Bodh-Gaya.  Their effect in turning men’s attention to Buddhism must have been greatly enhanced by the fact that so far as we know no other sect had stone temples at this time.  To such influences, we must add the human element.  The example and well-known wishes of a great king, supported by a numerous and learned clergy, could not fail to attract crowds to the faith, and the faith itself—­for let us not forget Gotama while we give credit to his follower—­was satisfying.  Thus Asoka probably found Buddhism in the form of a numerous order of monks, respected locally and exercising a considerable power over the minds and conduct of laymen.  He left it a great church spread from the north to the south of India and even beyond, with an army of officials to assist its progress, with sacred buildings and monasteries, sermons and ceremonies.  How long his special institutions lasted we do not know, but no one acquainted with India can help feeling that his system of inspection was liable to grave abuse.  Black-mailing and misuse of authority are ancient faults of the Indian police and we may surmise that the generations which followed him were not long in getting rid of his censors and inspectors.

Christian critics of Buddhism are apt to say that it has a paralyzing effect on the nations who adopt it, but Asoka’s edicts teem with words like energy and strenuousness.  “It is most necessary to make an effort in this world,” so he recounts the efforts which he has himself made and wants everybody else to make an effort.  “Work I must for the public benefit—­and the root of the matter is in exertion and despatch of business than which nothing is more efficacious for the general welfare.”  These sound like the words of a British utilitarian rather than of a dreamy oriental emperor.  He is far from pessimistic:  indeed, he almost ignores the Truth of Suffering.  In describing the conquest of Kalinga he speaks almost in the Buddha’s words of the sorrow of death and separation, but instead of saying that such things are inevitable he wishes his subjects to be told that he regrets what has happened and desires to give them security, peace and joy.