Buddha

Two thousand four hundred years ago there lived in India a king named Suddhodana. He had two wives, two sisters, but had children by neither one nor the other. The king was greatly grieved by this, but suddenly, when he had ceased to hope, his elder wife Maya gave birth to a son.

The king could not rejoice enough over his son and spared nothing to please, entertain, and educate him in every science. Siddhartha—for so they named the son—was a boy intelligent, handsome, and kind. When Siddhartha turned nineteen, his father married him to his cousin and settled the young couple in a magnificent palace amid beautiful gardens and groves. In the palace and gardens of young Siddhartha was everything a person could desire.

Wishing to see his beloved son always happy and cheerful, King Suddhodana strictly ordered the attendants and servants of Siddhartha not only not to grieve him in any way, but to hide from him everything that might sadden the young heir or give him cause for sorrowful thoughts.

Siddhartha did not venture beyond his domains, and within his domains he saw nothing spoiled, unclean, or aging. The servants tried to remove everything that might be unpleasant to see, not only removing all that was unclean but even plucking withered leaves from trees and bushes. So young Siddhartha saw around him only what was young, healthy, beautiful, and cheerful.

Thus Siddhartha lived more than a year after his marriage. One day, while riding through his gardens, Siddhartha decided to venture beyond his domains to see how other people lived.

Siddhartha ordered his charioteer Channa to drive him into the city. Everything he saw—the streets, the houses, the men and women in various clothes, the shops, the wares—all this was new to Siddhartha and pleasantly occupied and entertained him.

But suddenly on one of the streets he saw such a strange person as he had never seen before. The strange man sat hunched against the wall of a house and was moaning loudly and pitifully. The face of this man was pale and wrinkled, and he was trembling all over.

“What is wrong with this man?” Siddhartha asked his charioteer Channa.

“He must be ill,” said Channa.

“What does ‘ill’ mean?”

“‘Ill’ means that his body is disordered.”

“And does it cause him pain?”

“It must cause him pain.”

“Why has this happened to him?”

“Disease has struck him.”

“Can disease strike everyone like this?”

“Everyone.”

Siddhartha asked no more.

A little further on, an old beggar approached Siddhartha’s chariot. Decrepit, with bent back, with watery red eyes, the old man could barely move his dried-up, trembling legs and, mumbling with his toothless mouth, begged for alms.

“Is this one also ill?” asked Siddhartha.

“No, this is an old man,” said Channa.

“What does ‘old man’ mean?”

“It means he has grown old.”

“Why has this happened?”

“He has lived a long time.”

“Do all people grow old? Does this happen to everyone who lives long?”

“To everyone.”

“Will it happen to me too, if I live long?”

“The same happens to everyone,” answered Channa.

“Take me home,” said Siddhartha.

Channa urged on the horses, but at the exit from the city they were stopped by people. On a stretcher they carried something resembling a human being.

“What is this?” asked Siddhartha.

“This is a dead man,” answered Channa.

“What does ‘dead’ mean?” asked Siddhartha.

“‘Dead’ means that life has ended.”

Siddhartha got down from the chariot and approached the men carrying the corpse. The corpse, with open, fixed, glassy eyes, bared teeth, and rigid limbs, lay as motionless as only the dead lie.

“Why has this happened to him?” asked Siddhartha.

“Death came. Everyone dies.”

“Everyone dies,” repeated Siddhartha and, returning to the chariot, rode home without raising his head.

All day Siddhartha sat alone in a far corner of the garden and never ceased thinking about what he had seen.

“All people fall ill, all people grow old, all people die—how then can people live, knowing that at any hour they may fall ill, that with every hour they grow older, becoming disfigured and losing strength, and besides this know that at any hour they may die, will certainly die sooner or later. How can one rejoice in anything, do anything, how can one live, knowing for certain that one will die? This should not be,” Siddhartha said to himself. “One must find deliverance from this. And I will find it. And when I find it, I will give it to people. But to find this, I must leave this palace, where everything distracts my thoughts, leave my wife, my father and mother, and go to hermits and sages and ask them what they understand about all this.”

And having decided this, Siddhartha the following night called his charioteer Channa, ordered his horse saddled and the gates opened. Before leaving home, he went to his wife. She was sleeping. He did not wake her but, silently bidding her farewell, quietly, trying not to wake the sleeping servants, left his palace forever and, mounting his horse, rode away alone from his native home.

Having ridden as far as the horse could carry him, he dismounted and let it go, and having exchanged clothes with a monk he met, and having cut off his hair, went to the Brahmin sages and hermits and asked them to explain to him what he did not understand: why illness, old age, and death, and how to be delivered from them. One Brahmin received him and passed on to him the Brahmin teaching. This teaching held that the human soul migrates from one being to another, that every person was in a former life an animal and after death, according to his life, will migrate to a higher or lower being. Siddhartha understood this teaching but did not accept it. He lived with the Brahmins for half a year and left them for the dense forests where lived famous teachers and hermits, and lived with them for six years in fasting and labor. And he labored and fasted so much that his fame spread among the people, and disciples gathered around him, and people began to praise him. But even in the teaching of these hermits he did not find what he was seeking, and temptation came upon him, and he began to regret what he had left and wanted to return to his father and wife. But he did not go home; instead he left his admirers and disciples and withdrew to a place where no one knew him, and kept thinking about the same thing: how to be saved from illness, old age, and death.

For a long time he suffered, but once, when he was sitting under a tree and thinking about the same thing, suddenly what he sought was revealed to him: the path of salvation from suffering, old age, and death was revealed. The path of salvation presented itself to him in four truths.

The first truth was that all people are subject to suffering. The second truth was that the cause of suffering is the passions. The third truth was that to be delivered from suffering, one must destroy the passions in oneself. The fourth truth was that to destroy the passions, four things are needed. First—the awakening of the heart; second—the purification of thoughts; third—freeing oneself from ill will and irritability; fourth—awakening in oneself love not only for people but for all living things.

To mortify the flesh is excessive; what is most needed is the purification of the soul from evil thoughts. True liberation is only in love. Only the person who has replaced his lustful desires with love breaks the chains of ignorance and passions and is delivered from suffering and death.

When this teaching was revealed to him, Siddhartha left the wilderness, ceased fasting and exhausting his body, and began going among the people and preaching the truth that had been revealed to him.

At first his disciples left him, but then, understanding his teaching, they joined him again. And despite the persecution of Siddhartha-Buddha by the Brahmins, his teaching spread more and more.

Siddhartha preached his teaching to the people in ten commandments:

The first commandment: Do not kill; cherish the life of all living things.

The second commandment: Do not steal, do not rob, do not take from people the products of their labor.

The third commandment: Be chaste in both thought and life.

The fourth commandment: Do not lie; speak the truth when necessary, fearlessly but lovingly.

The fifth commandment: Do not speak ill of people and do not repeat the ill that is spoken of people.

The sixth commandment: Do not swear oaths.

The seventh commandment: Do not waste time on empty speech, but speak to the point or be silent.

The eighth commandment: Do not covet and do not envy, but rejoice in your neighbor’s good.

The ninth commandment: Cleanse your heart of malice, hate no one, but love everyone.

The tenth commandment: Strive to understand the truth.

For sixty years Buddha, going from place to place, preached his teaching.

In his last years Buddha was weak but still walked and preached. On one of these journeys he felt the approach of death and, stopping, said: “I am tormented by thirst.” The disciples brought him water; he drank a little, sat for a while, and went on. But near the river Hiranyavati he stopped again and, sitting under a tree, said to his disciples: “My death has come. Remember without me everything I have told you.” His beloved disciple Ananda, listening to him, could not contain himself and, going aside, wept. Siddhartha immediately sent for him and said: “Enough, Ananda! Do not weep, do not be troubled. Sooner or later we must part from everything dear to us here. Is there anything eternal in this world? My friends,” he added, addressing his other disciples, “live as I have taught you. Free yourselves from the net of passions that entangles people. Follow the path I have shown you. Remember always that everything bodily perishes; only truth is imperishable and eternal. In it seek salvation.”

These were his last words.

—Retold by L. N. Tolstoy

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Translator’s Notes:

• This is Tolstoy’s own retelling, not a direct translation from Buddhist texts. He synthesized various sources into an accessible narrative.
• The “Four Noble Truths” are presented here in Tolstoy’s interpretive framework, emphasizing the role of love in liberation—a characteristic Tolstoyan addition.
• The Ten Commandments listed are Tolstoy’s distillation of Buddhist ethical precepts, showing clear parallels with the Ten Commandments of Judaism/Christianity and with Tolstoy’s own ethical teachings.
• “Siddhartha-Buddha”: Siddhartha was his given name; “Buddha” (the Awakened One) was the title he received after his enlightenment.
• The account of Buddha’s death is drawn from the Mahaparinibbana Sutta, though simplified here.