preted, are silent about Ceylon, and cannot be cited in support of the local monastic traditions which, although resting upon a basis of fact, are wholly untrustworthy for details. We must be content to admit our ignorance, which is likely to continue. I am sceptical about the tale of Sanghamitrâ, the supposed daughter of Asoka. Her name, which means 'Friend of the Order,' is extremely suspicious, and the inscriptions give no indication of her existence. Professor Oldenberg has much justification for his opinion that the story of Mahinda and his sister seems to have been—
'invented for the purpose of possessing a history of the Buddhist institutions in the island, and to connect it with the most distinguished person conceivable—the great Asoka. The historical legend is fond of poetically exalting ordinary occurrences into great and brilliant actions; we may assume that, in reality, things were accomplished in a more gradual and less striking manner than such legends make them appear[1].'
The naturalization in Ceylon of the immense mass of Buddhist literature now existing in Pâli and, I believe, also in Sinhalese, must necessarily have been a work of time, and would seem to be the fruit of long and continuous intercourse between Ceylon and the adjacent parts of India, rather than the sudden result of direct communication with Magadha. The statements of the Chinese pilgrims in the fifth and seventh centuries prove that Asoka's
- ↑ Introduction to the Vinayapitakam, p. 4 (ii).
