The history of Sākya Muni's life is the strongest bulwark of his
religion. As long as the human heart is capable of being touched by
tales of heroic self-sacrifice, accompanied by purity and celestial
benevolence of motive, it will cherish his memory. Why should I go
into the particulars of that noble life? You will remember that he was
the son of the king of Kapilavasṭu--a mighty sovereign whose
opulence enabled him to give the heir of his house every luxury that a
voluptuous imagination could desire: and that the future Buḍḍha
was not allowed even to know, much less observe, the miseries of
ordinary existence. How beautifully Edwin Arnold has painted for us in
_The Light of Asia_ the luxury and languor of that Indian Court,
"where love was gaoler and delights its bars". We are told that:

The king commanded that within those walls
No mention should be made of age or death
Sorrow or pain, or sickness ...
And every dawn the dying rose was plucked,
The dead leaves hid, all evil sights removed:
For said the king, "If he shall pass his youth
Far from such things as move to wistfulness
And brooding on the empty eggs of thought,
The shadow of this fate, too vast for man,
May fade, belike, and I shall see him grow
To that great stature of fair sovereignty,
When he shall rule all lands--if he _will rule_--
The king of kings and glory of his time."

You know how vain were all the precautions taken by the father to
prevent the fulfilment of the prophecy that his beloved son would be
the coming Buḍḍha. Though all suggestions of death were banished