In 399 CE, a Chinese Mahāyāna monk named Fa-hien set out for India to find a complete copy of the Vinaya, the rules and precepts for fully ordained monks.

After Fa-hien set out from Ch’ang-gan, it took him six years to reach Central India; stoppages there extended over [another] six years; and on his return it took him three years to reach Ts’ing-chow [China].

After his trip, Fa-hien wrote a book about what he saw. Fa-hien’s book was translated into English by James Legge (1815-1897). Legge, at the time he published his translation in 1886, was professor of Chinese studies at Oxford University. Throughout the book, Legge offers extensive notes explaining for his Western audience the background and meaning of what Fa-hien saw in his travels.

From Legge’s Introduction:

Nothing of great importance is known about Fa-hien in addition to what may be gathered from his own record of his travels. I have read the accounts of him in the ‘Memoirs of Eminent Monks,’ compiled in A.D. 519, and a later work, the ‘Memoirs of Marvelous Monks,’ by the third emperor of the Ming dynasty (A.D. 1403-1424), which, however, is nearly all borrowed from the other; and all in them that has an appearance of verisimilitude can be brought within brief compass.

His surname, they tell us, was Kung, and he was a native of Wu-yang in P’ing-yang, which is still the name of a large department in Shan-hsi. He had three brothers older than himself; but when they all died before shedding their first teeth, his father devoted him to the service of the Buddhist society, and had him entered as a śramaṇera, still keeping him at home in the family. The little fellow fell dangerously ill, and the father sent him to the monastery, where he soon got well and refused to return to his parents.

When he was ten years old, his father died; and an uncle, considering the widowed solitariness and helplessness of the mother, urged him to renounce the monastic life, and return to her, but the boy replied, ‘I did not quit the family in compliance with my father’s wishes, but because I wished to be far from the dust and vulgar ways of life. This is why I choose monkhood.’ The uncle approved of his words and gave over urging him. When his mother also died, it appeared how great had been the affection for her of his fine nature; but after her burial he returned to the monastery.

On one occasion he was cutting rice with a score or two of his fellow disciples when some hungry thieves came upon them to take away their grain by force. The other śramaṇeras all fled, but our young hero stood his ground, and said to the thieves, “If you must have the grain, take what you please. But, Sirs, it was your former neglect of charity which brought you to your present state of destitution; and now, again, you wish to rob others. I am afraid that in the coming age you will have still greater poverty and distress. I am sorry for you beforehand.” With these words he followed his companions to the monastery, while the thieves left the grain and went away, all the monks, of whom there were several hundred, doing homage to his conduct and courage.

When he had finished his noviciate and taken on him the obligations of the full Buddhist orders, his earnest courage, clear intelligence, and strict regulation of his demeanor were conspicuous; and soon after, he undertook his journey to India in search of complete copy of the Vinaya-piṭaka. What follows this is merely an account of his travels in India and return to China by sea, condensed from his own narrative, with the addition of some marvelous incidents that happened to him, on his visit to the Vulture Peak near Rājagṛha.

The book offers a fascinating look at Buddhist life and practice at the start of the fifth century. Keep in mind, that at the same time Fa-hien was exploring India, Kumārajīva was busy translating the Lotus Sutra into Chinese.

Several things Fa-hien witnessed were of particular interest to me. For example, having recently finished Jan Nattier’s “A Few Good Men: The Bodhisattva Path according to The Inquiry of Ugra,” it was interesting to note that some Buddhist communities that Fa-hien encountered included both Mahāyāna and Hinayāna monks, while others were strictly Hinayāna or Mahāyāna. In The Inquiry of Ugra the Mahāyāna Bodhisattva path was not a separate teaching but just one of the vehicles available to renunciants. Centuries later, Fa-hien finds evidence of a separation of the Mahāyāna and Hinayāna schools, while still finding areas where they practiced together.

I also found the topic of Pratyeka buddhas fascinating. In the Lotus Sutra, we hear of people seeking Pratyekabuddhahood, one of the three provisional vehicles, but nothing about someone actually attaining this goal.

Fa-hien witnessed:

At this place there are as many as a thousand topes of Arhans and Pratyeka Buddhas.

Topes is another word for stupas. Legge offers this note about Pratyeka Buddhas:

In Singhalese, Pasê Buddhas; called also Nidâna Buddhas, and Pratyeka Jinas, and explained by ‘individually intelligent,’ ‘completely intelligent,’ ‘intelligent as regards the nidânas.’ This, says Eitel (pp. 96, 97), is ‘a degree of saintship unknown to primitive Buddhism, denoting automats in ascetic life who attain to Buddhaship “individually,” that is, without a teacher, and without being able to save others. As the ideal hermit, the Pratyeka Buddha is compared with the rhinoceros (khadga) that lives lonely in the wilderness. He is also called Nidâna Buddha, as having mastered the twelve nidânas (the twelve links in the everlasting chain of cause and effect in the whole range of existence, the understanding of which solves the riddle of life, revealing the inanity of all forms of existence, and preparing the mind for nirvāṇa). He is also compared to a horse, which, crossing a river, almost buries its body under the water, without, however, touching the bottom of the river. Thus in crossing saṃsāra he suppresses the errors of life and thought, and the effects of habit and passion, without attaining to absolute perfection.” ‘ Whether these Buddhas were unknown, as Eitel says, to primitive Buddhism, may be doubted.

Underscore “without being able to save others,” which tells you all you need to know about Pratyeka buddhas.

(See Pratyekabuddhas Before Śākyamuni)

Legge, who came to China as a Christian missionary, is mostly supportive of Buddhism, but takes offense at Fa-hien’s tale of a monk who attained parinirvāṇa by cutting his own throat.

[At a distance of 50 paces from the rock dwelling of Devadatta] is a large, square black rock. Formerly there was a bhikṣu who, as he walked backwards and forwards upon it, thought with himself: ‘This body is impermanent, a thing of bitterness and vanity, and which cannot be looked on as pure. I am weary of this body, troubled by it as an evil.’ With this he grasped a knife and was about to kill himself. But he thought again: ‘The World-honored one laid down a prohibition against one’s killing himself.’ Further it occurred to him: ‘Yes, he did; but I now only wish to kill three poisonous thieves.’ Immediately with the knife he cut his throat. With the first gash into the flesh he attained the state of a Srotaāpanna; when he had gone half through, he attained to be an Anāgāmin; and when he had cut right through, he was an Arhat, and attained to parinirvāṇa; (and died).

Legge responds in a note:

Our author expresses no opinion of his own on the act of this bhikshu. Must it not have been a good act, when it was attended, in the very act of performance, by such blessed consequences? But if Buddhism had not something better to show than what appears here, it would not attract the interest which it now does. The bhikshu was evidently rather out of his mind; and the verdict of a coroner’s inquest of this nineteenth century would have pronounced that he killed himself ‘in a fit of insanity.’

Not everything Fa-hien saw in India accorded with traditional Buddhism.

In this Middle Kingdom there are ninety-six sorts of views, erroneous and different from our system, all of which recognize this world and the future world (and the connection between them). Each has its multitude of followers, and they all beg their food: only they do not carry the alms-bowl. They also, moreover, seek (to acquire) the blessing (of good deeds) on unfrequented ways, setting up on the roadside houses of charity, where rooms, couches, beds, and food and drink are supplied to travelers, and also to monks, coming and going as guests, the only difference being in the time (for which those parties remain).

There are also companies of the followers of Devadatta still existing. They regularly make offerings to the three previous Buddhas, but not to Śākyamuni Buddha.

I’ll end here with Fa-hien’s tale of the woman who accused the Buddha of having gotten her pregnant.

Outside the east gate of the Jetavana, at a distance of seventy paces to the north, on the west of the road, Buddha held a discussion with the (advocates of the) ninety-six schemes of erroneous doctrine, when the king and his great officers, the householders, and people were all assembled in crowds to hear it. Then a woman belonging to one of the erroneous systems, by name Chañchamana, prompted by the envious hatred in her heart, and having put on (extra) clothes in front of her person, so as to give her the appearance of being with child, falsely accused Buddha before all the assembly of having acted unlawfully (towards her). On this, Śakra, Ruler of Devas, changed himself and some devas into white mice, which bit through the strings about her waist; and when this was done, the (extra) clothes which she wore dropt down on the ground. The earth at the same time was rent, and she went (down) alive into hell. (This) also is the place where Devadatta, trying with empoisoned claws to injure Buddha, went down alive into hell. Men subsequently set up marks to distinguish where both these events took place.