The Mahavastu (great story)
by J. J. Jones | 1949 | 502,133 words | ISBN-10: 086013041X
This page describes great renunciation again which is Chapter XVI of the English translation of the Mahavastu (“great story”), dating to the 2nd-century BC. This work belongs to the Mahasanghika school of early Buddhism and contains narrative stories of the Buddha’s former lives, such as Apadanas, Jatakas and more..
Chapter XVI - The great renunciation again
Note: This is another account of [the previous] “great renunciation”.
Now the thought occurred to the Bodhisattva: “It is difficult for me to live the holy life that is utterly bright,[1] blameless, pure, and clean, while I dwell at home. Let me then go forth from home into the homeless state.”
So the Bodhisattva told the king that he was going to take up the religious life. The king replied:—
Pray do not do so, my lotus-eyed and charmingly beautiful son. Great grief would I suffer if I were bereft of you.
Your mother as well as I would go to unwelcome death. What sort of special bliss is this then, that for its sake you would leave me, your people and your kingdom?
For all the regions[2] look wild[3], all being tracts of earth which are now cold, now hot, and infested by gadflies and mosquitos. You will be affrighted[4] in the fearful woods where are wild beasts that slay and the terrible cries of jackals.
Meanwhile, with the thought of achieving deliverance constantly in mind,[5] live the way your father lived, my son. and be content, as long I as live or as long as she, your mother, will live. For seeing[6] you go away, of a surety I will die.
(141) The king then sent a message to five hundred kings, saying, “Come, the prince is eager to leave home.” They came and in many ways they implored the prince not to leave home.
But the Bodhisattva said to the king, his father, and the other kings, “If your majesty will give me an assurance[7] on four points, I promise you, sire, that I shall not leave this fair city.’ The king replied, “I will assure you on the four points. Quickly tell me what they are, or soon the life-breath will leave me.”
The prince said:—
“Now I am in my youth; let old age never come upon me. Now I am in health; let disease never come upon me.
“Now I am in life; let death never come upon me. Now I am in joyous prosperity; let adversity never come upon me.”
Then the hosts of devas cried “Bravo! bravo! Hail, hail, Great Being, hail incomparable Man.”
Brahmā’s company were all thrilled, elated, filled with joy and gladness at these eloquent words.
But King Śuddhodana, stung by sorrow’s shaft[8] and with his eyes full of tears, said to the Bodhisattva:—
“My son, you know yourself why this is not possible. Old age, disease, death and misfortune are not in my province.”
The prince said:—
“Come then, let your majesty assure me on three points. Then there will be for you no separation at all from me.”
(142) The king replied:—
“I give you, son, an assurance[9] on these points. Therefore turn away the desire of your heart and stay with him who speaks to you.”[10]
The prince said:—
“Let me have the modes of the pleasures of sense[11] which are enjoyed by devas; let them be always agreeable, and permanently pleasant. Assure me of this.
“Let Apsarases, wearing fine anklets, ornaments and jewels, sing in the air around me, sweetly, intelligibly, exquisitely, sweetly,[12] joyously,[13] and harmoniously.”
Yet the mind of the True Man did not realty[14] find delight in intoxications as his expressed words would imply.[15] For he was ready to leave this earth which is like the golden bimba,[16] with its store of varied riches.
The king, in sorrow, said to the prince, “Be content, my son, for your pleasures of sense are already agreeable as well as pleasant.”
The prince replied:—
“Come then, great lord, I shall mention two other points. If you wish you can likewise assure me on them.”
The king said:—
“Earnestly I promise to assure you on these two points. Tell me what they are, and do not leave me.”
The prince replied[17]:—
“O great king, assure me of this, that never will there develop in me, the notions, whether great or little,[18] of ‘I am the doer’ and ‘mine is the doer’[19]”
(143) Then the Maheśvara[20] devas standing in the sky poured forth their voices, saying, “Verily, you will become a perfect Buddha, a breaker of all bonds.
“And why we say this is, that there has been no utterance before in the worlds of devas and men of such words as you in your wisdom have spoken.”
Then King Śuddhodana, stung by sorrow’s shaft and with his eyes full of tears, said to the Bodhisattva:—
“I know not even the names of these things which you extol, O supreme of men, and I cannot assure you of them.”
The prince said:—
“Enough of this dallying.[21] Assure me on one point only. Then shall I live on in pleasant Kapilavastu.”
The king replied[22]:—
“I shall then, my son, I shall assure you on the one point. Speak quickly and acquaint me with what you have in mind.”[23]
The prince replied:—
“Even while I dwell in this fair worldly palace, let my heart, freed of all hindrances, be in my own power.”
Thereupon devas, Yakṣas, Gandharvas and Dānavas[24] and the crowds of Nāgas and Rākṣasas cried out, “Behold the dharma![25]
“Behold of a sudden there have been clearly manifested the consummate words of him whose eloquence is perfect and whose desire is for the highest good.”
Then the dejected king said to the prince, “I have no control over that,”[26] and he shed a flood of tears.
The Bodhisattva, making a solemn utterance that brought joy to devas and men, (144) and at the same time addressing his father, said:
“O chief of princes, I shall go and find the deathless[27] that knows no old age or disease, is free of disaster and fear and unconditioned.
“O king, I must attain for myself what is permanent, blissful, and fair. There is no doubt of this. So though you let me go, be of good courage.”
Then King Śuddhodana, seeing what the prince was thinking about in the rose-apple tree’s shade, embarked upon a sea of anxious thought. “Since,” thought he, “the prince finds delight in these tranquil meditations, I must see to it that the proclamation of Asita[28] the seer does not turn out true. What if I were now to provide the prince with spacious quarters for his women, and construct various parks wherein the prince may divert, enjoy and amuse himself and not set his heart on leaving home?”
And so Śuddhodana provided the prince with spacious quarters for his women, supplied him with thousands of women, made him variegated parks with cool arbours, and draped with festoons of fine cloth and strewn with heaps of flowers, that the prince might divert, enjoy and amuse himself and not set his heart on leaving home. And King Śuddhodana enjoined upon the women that they should keep the prince well entertained with dance and music and song, so that he should not set his heart on leaving home.
But the prince knew the perils of the pleasures of sense and he found no profit in the enjoyment of any of them. He found no delight in such parks, even though they were like the parks in the abodes of devas, nor in the harem that was like a harem of Apsarases. Rather he delighted his heart with the thought of leaving home. The Bodhisattva needed no one to tell him that the round of rebirth (saṃsāra) was an ill. Master over all conditions, he became free of passion by his own[29] efforts and the stirring of his own heart. Yea, he showed that rebirth was by its very nature limitless woe and involved hundreds of misfortunes.
(145) The prince went up to his upper chamber and entered it. He sat down and applied his mind to the same meditation that he had achieved in the rose-apple tree’s shade. He did not enjoy the sounds of song and dance nor the lovely crowds of women. So deep in thought was he.
Then King Śuddhodana asked a certain man, “How is this, my man? The prince hears the sound of song, of dance, of drum, tabour, lyre, flute and cymbal in the harem. What, then, is the melancholy in the prince’s heart?” But then the female deva that dwells in the Lumbinī grove,[30] hovering in the air, said to King Śuddhodana, “Your majesty, reflect about your son. For he has no passion for the joys of any of the senses. Ere long he will break all the bonds of craving and leave none remaining. He will go off to the forest of penance, and will develop his thought which is as yet quite limited.[31] And now, O king, Siddhārtha, though of royal lineage and surrounded in his beautiful palace by a throng of women, reviles what in his body is impermanent, ill, and unsubstantial.”[32]
King Śuddhodana, having heard this from the female deva, with downcast countenance and stricken with grief, went to the prince and said to him, “Why have you come in here with downcast countenance and stricken with grief?[33] Can it be that you have witnessed some affliction of body or have discovered any loss of wealth, or that the fear of an enemy has come over you? Tell me quickly, my son, what the meaning of this is.”
The prince replied, “Yes, father, I do see affliction of the body. Disease presses close upon health, and death upon life. And, father, I consider an old man as but another dead man.[34] All the saṃskāras[35] pass away, and the tumbling mountain stream, the things that are solid as the best iron, the cycle of the seasons, and life itself all pass away. Death comes on. Father, it is this affliction of the physical body that I see. Yes, father, I see the decay of wealth. Everything is empty, void, vain, illusive, deceptive and false. Wealth has no permanence. (146) It is destroyed or passes from one to another. I see this decay of wealth, father. Yes, I see the fear of an enemy’s army, the fear of the corruption of the constituents of the visible creature,[36] the cutting off of hands, ears, and heads, and the various and divers ills which in one way or another befall this body. This fear of an enemy’s army do I see, father.” King Śuddhodana replied, “Enough, my son, think no more of that. At present you are of tender age, in the bloom of youth. Go and perform your royal duties. You have a spacious harem of young women. With these divert, enjoy and amuse yourself, and set not your heart on leaving home to become a recluse.”
The prince answered, “If you offer me eight boons, then, father, I will no longer harbour this intention in my mind.” The King said, “Tell me quickly, my son, what these eight boons are, which you wish for. If they are within my power or strength, then will I grant them to you. Why, my son, I’ll abandon my kingdom rather than not grant a boon of yours.”
The prince replied, “Grant me, father, these eight boons: that old age does not overtake my youth; that disease does not overtake my health; that death does not take away my life; that I shall not be bereft of your company; that this harem of women like the Apsarases and my numerous kinsfolk do not disappear;[37] that this kingdom and realm experience no reverse or any other evil vicissitude; that those who at my birth were invited to partake of ambrosial joy should all have their lusts quelled, and that for me there be an end of birth, old age and death.”
King Śuddhodana replied, “My son, whence have I such might and power that I could grant eight boons such as these? My son, the long-lived kings of yore, Kings Mahāsammata,[38] Mahātejas, Dṛḍhadhanu, Satadhanu, Niśāntāyus, Yugandhara and the others, (147) a noble line of kings, all these, my son, through the force of impermanence, were brought to their end, leaving but their names behind them. Whence then, my son, can I have such power or might as to be able to grant you eight such boons?”
The prince said, “If, father, you cannot grant me these eight boons, I invite you to partake of a state that is the end of old age and death.”[39]
The king replied, “I am old and advanced in years. My youth is past. Therefore wait till I am dead before you leave home.”
The prince said, “Be exultant, father. If you live, you will again see me return here released from rebirth into any bourne, having cut off all craving, rid myself of all ill, overcome all fiery lusts,[40] and realised the treasures of all the bodhyaṅgaś.”[41]
Then the king showed him the crowd of women. “Here is a noble sight for you, my son,” said he, “fair, faultless, loving women, with eyes bright as jewels, with full breasts, gleaming white limbs, sparkling gems, firm and fine girdles, soft, lovely and black-dyed hair, wearing bright-red mantles and cloaks, bracelets of gems and necklaces of pearls, ornaments and rings on the toes, and anklets, and playing music on the five musical instruments.[42] Delight yourself with these, my son, and do not yearn for the religious life of a wanderer.” The prince said, “See, father, a man may have an awareness of a woman[43] and be excited, disturbed,[44] and intoxicated by it.” The king said, “What is your awareness of a woman like?” The prince said, “It is an awareness of contrariety.”[45] The king said, “My son, what is your awareness of contrariety like?” The prince said, “It is that of this body[46] which comes and goes where it is fixed; where it stands, sits down; where it is active, is quiet; where it is an external thing,[47] it is void, inactive, strong or weak, a delusion, and untrustworthy—such do they say is the whole totality of things.”[48] King Śuddhodana said, “If you are not excited by beauty, are you not then as a man excited by a woman’s beauty?[49] What is your view of things?[50]” The prince said, “This, namely, (148) that I characterise the round of life as a play, which, with consciousness[51] as the machine and the feelings as the actors produces its various scenes. The three-fold stage is the condition of men in the different six spheres of existence.[52] There enter upon the stage craving and fond affection, and hundreds of deep-seated lusts.[53] From an infinite time past[54] this play goes on,[55] deceiving, entangling, and destroying. There is no man or body of men who has not been beguiled and deceived by the saṃskāras,[56] and so it was among our elders.[58] So, father, lift up your heart, for I shall end this play of recurrent life, and I shall enter the citadel of calm and of Nirvana,[58] which old age and death do not assail. And so I shall follow the path followed by former Tathāgatas, Arhans and perfect Buddhas.”[59]
The king said, “My son, here you have a mansion like the abode of a deva. Your palace[60] is magnificent, and you yourself are beautiful, laden with the marks of excellence and with merit. How is it then, my son, that you find no pleasure here, but desire to leave home and abandon the city?”
The prince said:
With a mind awed by the spheres of existence listen, father, while I tell you why I find no pleasure.
Old age and disease, and the enemy death as the third, oppress me; that is why I find no pleasure.
If my self could have continual ease; if my self knew not the power of ill; if there were not all this that rests upon what is conditioned,[61] there would be no reason why I should not find pleasure.[62]
The body is like a serpent’s slough; in the body is a serpent’s year.[63] (149) The skandhas[64] are like a foe. Then why should I find pleasure?
If the body were not like a serpent’s slough; if in it there were no serpent’s year, then there would be no reason why I should not find pleasure.
...[65]
If there were no birth, old age and death, then there would be no reason why I should not find pleasure in the round of existence (saṃsāra).
If one’s lodging were not in the village of the void[66]; if there were none of that which destroys passionlessness; if there were not the fearful element of the saṃskāras, then there would he no reason why I should not find pleasure.
If there were none of this spur to learn[67]; if there were no fear in the royal palace; if there were not all this fear in the three worlds, then would I have no pleasure in leaving home.
When he could not by any means dissuade the prince, King Śuddhodana reflected thus: “Since I cannot by any means dissuade the prince, what if I were to display to him all the maidens in Kapilavastu and see whether the heart of the prince would find delight in someone or other of them?[68]
(150) The Bodhisattva told his father that he was going out to the park. Then King Śuddhodana gave orders to his ministers, saying, “See that all the way from the royal palace to the park is sprinkled and swept, overhung with an awning, bordered by bright cloth, draped with festoons of fine cloth, made fragrant with incense, and strewn with heaps of flowers. Here and there place receptacles for holding incense and garlands, and station dancers, mimes, athletes,[67] wrestlers, minstrels and drummers and thus provide pleasant sights, sounds and scents, so that the prince on his way from the city to the park may not see anything that is unpleasant.”
At the king’s word of command the ministers prepared the way from the royal palace to the prince’s park in the manner ordered by the king. At intervals they stationed men to see that there should stand in front of the prince as he went to the park no old man or one advanced in years, no one diseased or one-eyed, or lame, no one suffering from leprosy, the itch, scab or eruption on the skin, and that nothing unpleasant should stand before him. Thus, as the prince rode out to the park in a costly equipage glittering with the seven precious stones, in great royal pomp, magnificence and splendour, royal servants went as an escort on his left and on his right and took care that the prince should see nothing unpleasant.
While the prince, thus seeing pleasant sights, hearing pleasant sounds, smelling pleasant scents and receiving on both sides, on the left and on the right, a hundred thousand salutations and showers of various powders, was on his way from Kapilavastu to the park, Ghaṭikāra[69] the potter, who had become a Śuddhāvāsa[70] deva, and other Śuddhāvāsa devas conjured[71] up before him an old man. This old man was advanced in years, of great age, a man who had lived his life[72] and had passed his prime. He was hoary-headed; his body was all blotchy. He was bent like the rafters of a roof; stooping forward (151) he tottered along with the aid of sticks. When the Bodhisattva saw him he asked his charioteer, “Who is this loathsome old man, who is advanced in years, of great age, who has lived his life and has passed his prime, who is hoary-headed, has his body all blotchy, who is bent like the rafters of a roof and stoops forward as he staggers[73] along with the aid of sticks?”
The charioteer replied, “O prince,[74] what is the man you ask about to you? For he is an old man whose life is spent. Let us go on to the park, and let your royal highness divert, enjoy and amuse himself with the five pleasures of sense.” But the prince said, “My dear charioteer, mark this. We too are liable to old age. We have not passed beyond liability to old age. Verily, when old age is seen to be the lot of every man that is born what pleasure can there be to a discerning man?” And he added, “Charioteer, turn the chariot round. No more going to the park for me.”
The prince returned and came to his home. King Śuddhodana asked his ministers, “Sirs, why has the prince returned instead of going on to the park?” The ministers replied, “Your majesty, the prince after he had set out saw an old man, and no longer will he go to the park.”
The king then said to himself, “I must see to it that what was proclaimed of the prince by Asita the seer must not come to pass.” And he gave instructions to the king’s harem, saying, “Divert, delight and amuse the prince well with dance and song and music, so that he may find pleasure at home.” And thus there was as beautiful singing in the prince’s harem as in the world of devas. Yet the prince was not attracted by the singing. So much did his memory dwell on the old man.
On another occasion the prince said, “I am going out to the park.” The king said to his ministers, “Provide pleasant sights and sounds, so that the prince as he goes out to the park may see nothing unpleasant.” So at the king’s word of command the ministers prepared the way from the royal palace (152) to the prince’s park as the king had ordered. Here and there they stationed men to see to it that on his way to the park there should stand before him no old man or one advanced in years, no one diseased or one-eyed or lame, no one suffering from leprosy, the itch, scab or eruption on the skin, and that nothing unpleasant should stand before him. So, as the prince in great royal pomp, magnificence and splendour proceeded to the park in a costly equipage glittering with the seven precious stones, royal servants went as an escort on his left and on his right to ensure that he should not see anything unpleasant.
While the prince, thus seeing pleasant sights, hearing pleasant sounds, smelling pleasant scents, and receiving on both sides, on the left and on the right, a hundred thousand salutations, was on his way from Kapilavastu to the park, Ghaṭikāra the potter, who had became a Śuddhāvāsa deva, and other Śuddhāvāsa devas conjured up before him a diseased man. This man had swollen hands and feet. His face was swollen, and his complexion jaundiced. His belly was dropsical[75] and on his dropsical, protruding navel thousands of flies were feeding. He was a loathsome and disgusting sight.
When the Bodhisattva saw this man he asked his charioteer, “My dear charioteer, tell me who this loathsome man is, with his jaundiced complexion, his swollen hands and feet, his blotched face,[76] and with thousands of flies feeding on his dropsical, exuding navel?” The charioteer replied, “What is the man you ask about to you? His life is near spent with disease. Let us go on to the park and there let his highness divert, enjoy and amuse himself.” But the prince said, “My dear charioteer, mark this. We too are liable to disease; we have not passed beyond liability to disease. Verily, when old age and disease are seen to be the lot of every man born, what pleasure can there be for a discerning man? (153) Disease means the loss of beauty, the crushing of strength, the destruction of the faculties, the rise of sorrows, the end of joy, concentration on the senses,[77] the cessation of dharma, and preoccupation with things pertaining to the body.[78] Who that drinks up the world and, being beautiful, swallows it, does not shudder at disease?” And he added, “Charioteer, turn the chariot round. No more going to the park for me.”
The prince therefore returned and entered his house. King Śuddhodana asked his ministers, “Sirs, why has the prince turned back instead of going on to the park?” The ministers replied, “Your majesty, the prince saw a diseased man, and so turned back and will no longer go to the park.”
The king said to himself, “I must see to it that what was proclaimed of the prince by Asita the seer does not come to pass.” And he gave orders to the harem, saying, “Divert, delight and amuse the prince well with dance and song and music so that he may find pleasure at home.” And thus the singing in the prince’s harem was as beautiful as that in the abode of the devas. But the prince was not attracted by the singing, so much did his memory dwell on the old man and the diseased man.
On another occasion the prince asked permission of his father, saying, “Father, I am going to the park to have a look at it.” The king gave orders to his ministers, saying, “The prince is going out to the park. Adorn the park, prepare the way and decorate the city. Have all the way from the royal palace to the prince’s park sprinkled and swept, overhung with an awning, bordered by bright cloth, draped with festoons of fine cloth, made fragrant with incense, and strewn with heaps of flowers. Here and there place receptacles for flowers, and dancers, mimes, athletes, wrestlers, minstrels and drummers. Provide pleasant sights, sounds and scents so that the prince on his way to the park may not see anything unpleasant, whether an old man, or a diseased man, or a one-eyed man, or a lame man, or one suffering from leprosy, the itch, scab or eruption on the skin, or one who is blind and withered.” At the king’s word of command (154) the ministers made preparations as the king had ordered. On the left and on the right, men were stationed to form an escort and prevent the prince on his way to the park from seeing anything unpleasant. Thus, riding in an equipage glittering with the seven precious stones, overhung by a canopy, draped with festoons of fine cloth, coated with a network of gold, with banners flying, to the accompaniment of the merry sound made by the horses’ hoofs that were like red coral,[79] and with flags and pennons aloft, the prince, with his ministers and attendants, in great royal majesty, pomp, splendour and effulgence, and receiving from both sides, the left and the right, a hundred thousand salutations, went out from Kapilavastu to the park.
Then Ghaṭikāra the potter, who had become a Śuddhāvāsa deva, and other Śuddhāvāsa devas conjured up before the prince a dead man. This dead man was placed on a litter and was borne by his relatives, who sobbed, wept, dishevelled their hair, beat their breasts and made piteous lamentation. When he saw the dead man, the prince asked his charioteer, “My dear charioteer, tell me, do I not see a man here, who is placed on a litter and is borne by his relatives who sob, weep, dishevel their hair and beat their breasts?” The charioteer replied, “Prince, this is a dead man being carried out to the cemetery by his relatives, who sob, weep, dishevel their hair and beat their breasts.” The prince said, “My dear charioteer, mark this. That man no more will see his father or mother, brother or sister, kinsman, friend or blood-relation, or bright Jambudvīpa.” The charioteer replied, “No, prince. That man will no more see his mother or father, brother or sister, or kinsmen, friends and blood-relations, or fair Jambudvīpa.”
The prince then said:—
Death is common to you and to me. It knows neither friend nor foe. Like the seasons, it comes round in its turn, invincible and inevitable.
(155) It takes no account of high or low, of rich or poor.[80] Intrepid like the sun, it goes along its course.
The charioteer said:—
Pleasures, success, royal prosperity, joy, honour, these are the things you should ask for, the chiefest things in the world. What is it to you that you have seen frightful death, the root of which is sickness and suffering, and which is the destruction of men?
The Bodhisattva said:—
He who has seen an old man, a diseased man and a dead man, and does not shudder at the round of rebirth, is to be grieved for as dull-witted, as a blind man who has lost his way.
The prince then said, “My dear charioteer, mark well. We too are liable to death. We have not passed beyond liability to death. Verily, when old age, disease and death are recognised to be the lot of every man that is born, what pleasure can there be for the discerning man? Turn the chariot round. No more going to the park for me.”
And so the prince returned once more and entered his house. And King Śuddhodana asked his ministers, “Why has the prince turned back again instead of going on to the park?” The minister replied, “Sire, the prince saw a dead man borne on a litter by his relatives, who sobbed, wept, dishevelled their hair, beat their breasts and piteously wailed, as they bore him to the cemetery. He was moved by the sight, and so turned back.”
King Śuddhodana said to himself, “I must see to it that the word spoken by those soothsaying brāhmans,[81] who said that the prince would leave home as a recluse, does not turn out true.” And he sent a messenger to the prince’s harem to bid the eunuchs and chamberlains to divert the prince well (156) with dance and song and music, so that the prince should find pleasure. So the officials of the harem sought to delight the prince well with dance and song and music, but the prince’s heart and mind were not there nor anywhere else. So well did he remember the old man, the diseased man and the dead man.
On another occasion again the prince asked permission of his father, saying, ‘Father, I am going out to the park to have a look at it.” The king replied, “As you please,[82] my son.” He then gave orders to his ministers, saying, “Adorn the park and make it like the Nandana[83] grove of the lord of devas. Decorate the city. Have the way from the royal palace to the prince’s park sprinkled and swept, overhung with an awning, bordered by bright doth, draped with festoons of fine cloth, made fragrant with incense and strewn with heaps of flowers. Here and there place receptacles for flowers and incense, and dancers, mimes, athletes, wrestlers, minstrels and drummers. See that all sights, sounds and scents be pleasant, so that the prince on his way from Kapilavastu to the park may see nothing that is unpleasant, whether an old man, or a diseased man, or a dead man, or a blind man, or a one-eyed or lame man, or one suffering from leprosy, the itch, scab, or eruption on the skin. Thus do.”
At the king’s word of command, the ministers saw to it that everything was done as the king had ordered. Here and there were stationed men to ensure that the prince on his way from Kapilavastu to the park should not see anything that was unpleasant. So, riding in an equipage glittering with the seven precious stones, coated in a network of gold, well decorated, with a flying banner, to the accompaniment of the merry sound made by the horses’ hoofs that were like red coral, and flags and pennons aloft, the prince, accompanied by his ministers and attendants, with great royal majesty and splendour, with great effulgence, magnificence and splendour, went from Kapilavastu to the park.
And as he was on his way Ghaṭikāra the potter, who had become a Śuddhāvāsa deva, and other Śuddhāvāsa devas conjured up (157) to stand before the prince a wanderer who wore the yellow robe, whose faculties were under control, who had mastered the four postures,[84] who did not look before him farther than a plough’s length[85] in the crowded royal street of Kapilavastu.[86] The prince saw this wanderer and his mind grew calm at the sight. “Behold,” he said, “the wisdom of one who has become a wanderer.”
When he had seen him, the prince asked the wanderer, “Noble sir, with what object did you become a wanderer?” The wanderer replied, “O prince, I became a wanderer for the sake of winning self-control, calm, and utter release.”
When the prince heard the words of the wanderer he was filled with joy, and said:—
“Verily, now, a wanderer who, conspicuous by his flowing yellow robe, crosses the crowded royal street,[87] his body covered by mire, dust and dirt, is like the red goose[88] in a thicket of reeds.”
Mṛgī,[89] a Śākyan woman, was the mother of Ānanda. When she saw the prince going out from Kapilavastu in such glory and splendour, she praised him in verse:—
Blessed verily is your mother and blessed, too, your father. Blessed also is the woman whose husband you will be[90].
When the Bodhisattva heard the sound of the word Nirvana,[91] his mind grew calm with the thought of Nirvana, it took its stand on it and aspired after it.[92]
“When he heard the sound of the word Nirvana, he listened with rapt attention.[93] Having caught a glimpse of the incomparable Nirvana, he meditated on it, having nothing more to fear.[94]
While the prince thus pondered on Nirvana, he neither looked at nor spoke to the Śākyan lady Mṛgī. And at this she was peeved and said to herself, “I have sung the praises of the prince in the midst of all this multitude, yet he does not deign even to look at me.”
King Śuddhodana caused a door named Ṣaḍvālaka to be made which needed five hundred men to open[95] it. (158) The noise made when it was opened could be heard for a yojana all round. He stationed five hundred kings around the city. He had the vessels for anointing made ready, saying, “I shall anoint the prince on a holy day.”
But the Bodhisattva reflected, “On that holy day I shall go forth from home.” And the Śuddhāvāsa devas said to him, “O Great Man, when it was the due time thou didst leave the Tuṣita devas; when it was the due time thou didst come down into thy mother’s womb; when it was the due time thou wert born. And now has the time come for thee to leave thy home, O Great Man, who art gifted with the knowledge of the right occasion.[96] The great multitude longs for thee as the anxious husbandman longs for a big cloud of rain.”
A lord of the devas recited a verse:—
Reflect perfectly, O Bodhisattva, for so do the knowing ones reflect. In the way thou dost reflect, O wise man, it is clear that you have the root of goodness.[97]
A great lord of the devas recited a verse:
Go forth from home, O great hero, go forth, great sage. For the sake of the whole world, awaken to the immortal Way.
Great Brahmā said, “If, O Great Man, thou wilt not leave home to-day, seven days hence the seven treasures of kingship[98] will be produced and thou wilt become a universal king over the four continents, triumphant, just, a king of justice, possessing the seven treasures. These seven treasures will appear from the sky, to wit, the treasure of the wheel, of the elephant, of the horse, of the jewel, of the woman, of the householder, and of the counsellor. And thou wilt have a full thousand sons who will be valiant, brave, comely, overpowering the armies of their enemies, and noble. Thou wilt hold and occupy in justice, without opposition, without trouble, without recourse to violence and without oppression, these four great continents, to wit, Jambudvīpa, Pūrvavideha, Aparagodānika (159) and Uttarakuru, all bounded by sea and mountain.
Rāhula, passing away from Tuṣita, entered his mother’s womb at the hour of midnight.[99] The Bodhisattva woke up and saw the women asleep. One was clasping a vīṇa,[100] another a veṇu,[101] another a nakula,[102] another a sughoṣa,[103] another a tūṇaka,[104] another a candīsaka,[105] another a sambhārikā,[106] another a mahatī,[107] another a vipañcikā,[108] another a ḍhakkapaṭaha,[109] another a vallaki,[110] another a mṛdaṅga,[111] another a mukunda,[112] another a paṇava,[113] another a jharjharaka,[114] another an āliṅga:[115] and another a parivādinī.[116] One had her hand at her throat, another her head on a drum, another her head on her neighbour’s bosom, another her arm on her neighbour’s shoulder, another embraced her neighbour, and another had her limbs sprawling left and right. From the mouth of some, saliva trickled.
And when the Bodhisattva saw them one and all lying on the floor in the harem there arose in him an awareness of the burial ground[117]. He rose up from his squatting position and took from the chest his fine clothes of Benares cloth. His servant Chandaka waited on him. “Chandaka,” said he, “bring me my horse Kaṇṭhaka.” Chandaka replied, “O prince, it is now midnight. What need of a horse is there at such a time? Thou hast a mansion like the abode of Kuvera.[118] So be happy in it. Why dost thou call for a horse? Thou hast a harem of women as fair as the Apsarases. Be happy in it. Why dost thou call for a horse?” Thus at that time did Chandaka expostulate in various ways. “O prince,” added he, “this is no time for a horse. (160) This is the time for lying on royal beds. What need is there of a horse just now?”
The prince replied, “Chandaka, now is the time I need a horse. So bring me Kaṇṭhaka.”
The thought occurred to Chandaka, “Since the prince calls for Kaṇṭhaka at this time of night, it must be that he intends to leave home while his people are peacefully asleep.” So as he was bringing round[119] Kaṇṭhaka, he cried out at the top of his voice so that the king and all the people in Kapilavastn might be awakened. But no one woke up at the cry of Chandaka. For the devas had laid a heavy sleep on all the people, both those within and those without the city.
Kaṇṭhaka, too, as it was being brought to the Bodhisattva, neighed loudly, thinking that King Śuddhodana and all the people would be awakened by the sound of its neighing. But though the sound could be heard for a yojana all round, no one was awakened.
A thousand koṭis of devas assembled at Kapilavastu bringing fragrant garlands in honour of the Bodhisattva’s going forth. And when the Bodhisattva had mounted Kaṇṭhaka, the prince of steeds, devas in the sky rained down a shower of flowers of the coral tree,[120] of the great coral tree, of the karkārava,[121] of the great karkārava, of the rocamāna,[122] of the great rocamāna, of the mañjūṣika,[123] of the great mañjūṣika, of the bhīṣma,[124] of the great bhīṣma, of the samantagandha,[125] of the great samantagandha, of the pārijāta,[126] flowers of celestial gold and silver, flowers of celestial gems, celestial powders of sandal-wood, of aloe-wood, of keśara and of tamāla leaves, and celestial, cool and scented water. For sixty yojanas around Kapilavastu there was a heap of celestial flowers as high as the knees, and for sixty yojanas around everything became cleaned[127] by the celestial scented water. Thousands of koṭis of celestial notes were sounded. There were celestial choruses and thousands of Apsarases shouted (161) and sang. The Four Great Lords[128] took hold of Kaṇṭhaka’s hoofs.
On hearing Kaṇṭhaka, the horse Pelavaka, which was born at the same time, ran out to see if it were its equal in speed.[129] There was also a Yakṣa who had been born at the same time as Chandaka and was named Supratiṣṭhita, and he and his company of five hundred opened the door Ṣaḍvālaka and suppressed the noise.
Thus the Bodhisattva, leaving behind him his great army of elephants, cavalry and foot-soldiers, his great stores of wealth, his great sovereignty and his great family, went forth from home into the homeless state. The Bodhisattva, oppressed by birth, went forth from home into the homeless state in order to attain the way that leads beyond birth. Oppressed by death, he went forth from home into the homeless state in order to attain the way that leads beyond death. Oppressed by sorrows and tribulations,[130] he went forth from home into the homeless state in order to attain the way that leads beyond tribulations.
And, monks,[131] it was not when he was worn out with decay[132] that the Bodhisattva went forth from home into the homeless state, but it was when he was in the prime and perfection of his youth. Again, monks, it was not when he was worn out by disease and decay that the Bodhisattva went forth from home into the homeless state, but it was when he was in the prime and perfection of his health. Again, monks, it was not when he was worn out by the loss of wealth (162) that the Bodhisattva went forth from home into the homeless state, but he left behind him a great store of riches. Again, monks, it was not when he was worn out by the loss of his kinsmen that the Bodhisattva went forth from home into the homeless state, but he left behind him a large family of relations.
The rocks shook, the waters rippled, the ocean, hitherto calm, tossed. Devas scattered celestial powder of the sandal-wood, of the aloe-wood, of keśara and of tamāla leaves, and showers of garlanded flowers. This great earth trembled, shook, and quaked violently six times through the might of the Bodhisattva. There was manifested in the world a great, infinite and sublime radiance. And the regions between the worlds, regions of blackness lapped in blackness, of gloom lapped in gloom, dark unfathomed regions where the moon and sun, powerful and majestic though they be, with all their brilliance cannot make their brilliance penetrate, with all their light cannot make their light manifest, suddenly become suffused with this radiance. And the beings who had been reborn there exclaimed to one another, “Lo, there are other beings reborn here.” Now all those beings were for that instant, for that moment immersed in bliss. Even those reborn in the great hell of Avīci excelled the splendour of devas, of Nāgas, and of Yakṣas. The realms of Māra were eclipsed, without radiance, lustre or joy. Shattered, they fell a kos, two kos, three. Shattered, they fell even for yojanas. (163) Their standards, too, fell, and wicked Māra was unhappy, discomfited, remorseful, tortured by the sting within him.[133]
Again, monks, while the Bodhisattva was going forth, the eastern quarter of the world became exceeding bright and pure. And so did the southern quarter, the western and the northern, and the regions below and above.[134] The moon and sun at their rising, in their course, and at their setting became exceeding bright and pure. The constellations and the stars became exceeding bright and pure. The abodes of the Cāturmahārājika devas became exceeding bright and pure, and so[135] did the abodes of the Trāyastriṃśa devas, of the Yāma devas, of the Tuṣita devas, of the Nirmāṇarati devas, and of the Paranirmitavaśavartin devas. The abodes of Māra became exceeding gloomy. The standards of Māra’s companies became dulled and without lustre. And wicked Māra became unhappy, discomfited, remorseful, dark-visaged and tortured by the sting within him. The abodes of the Brahmā devas and of the Śuddhāvāsa devas became exceeding bright and pure. And similarly the places where the perfect Buddhas of limited splendour stood, walked, sat or lay down among these Śuddhāvāsa devas, became exceeding bright and pure.[136] The Śuddhāvāsa devas became exceeding thrilled, elated, joyful and glad.
Again, monks, when the Bodhisattva was leaving home, all the Nāga[137] lords and kings, whether born of eggs, or of the womb, or of moisture, or without the intercourse of parents, (164) formed a great four-fold army of warriors on elephants, cavalry, charioteers and infantry, and thus escorted the Bodhisattva as he went forth from home into the homeless state.
Again, monks, when the Bodhisattva was leaving home all the Suparṇa[138] lords and kings, whether born of eggs, or of the womb or of moisture, or without the intercourse of parents, formed a great four-fold army of warriors on elephants, cavalry, charioteers, and infantry, and thus escorted the Bodhisattva.
As the Bodhisattva went on, the goddess of the city[139] stood before him, and sorrowfully said:—
O Nāga, O Nāga, look at me. O lion, O lion, look at me. O most elect of beings, look at me; O leader of the caravan, look at me.
On his way from Kapilavastu the Lion-man, he who brought joy to the Śākyans, looked down towards the fair city and made this solemn utterance:—
Though I were to fall into hell and get poisoned food to eat, I shall not again enter this city before I have won beyond old age and death.
This, monks, was how the Bodhisattva accomplished his going forth. The Bodhisattva, welcomed by thousands of devas and by the Four Great Kings, rode twelve yojanas south wards from Kapilavastu to the district of the Mallas,[140] to a place named Anomiya,[141] not far from the hermitage of the seer Vaśiṣṭha.[142] There the Bodhisattva and Chandaka stopped. The Bodhisattva (165) handed over to Chandaka his jewels, his horse Kaṇṭhaka and his gem-studded sunshade and bade him greet his father, Mahāprajāpatī Gotamī[142] and all his kinsmen. “Tell them,” said he, “that I’ll come again when I have done my duty and set rolling the noble wheel of dharma.” Chandaka said, “Dost thou not yearn for thy mother and father?” The Bodhisattva replied:—
“O Chandaka, from what you say, I perceive you are at fault. I leave my people because I aim at release, because my mind is bent on release. How in the life of a son[144] could there again be separation from one’s beloved kinsmen?
“If there were for us no death, no birth, no disease and old age and such things; if one had not to renounce what is desirable; if one had not to have recourse to what is unpleasant; if one’s hopes were not unfulfilled; if one’s happiness were not fickle, then there would be pleasure in the various spheres of man’s life.”
Chandaka said, “Verily, sir, all those skilled in the scriptures have pronounced about thee that thy destiny is to become ruler of the four continents.[145] Is that not true?” The Bodhisattva replied, “O Chandaka, tell me what else did those skilled soothsayers pronounce? Now is the time to tell the truth if you have any regard for me.” Chandaka replied, “Well, I’ll tell thee. This was the second alternative. If, said they, the Bodhisattva leaves the world and becomes a wanderer, he will become an all-seeing destroyer of the passion for existence.”
The thought occurred to the Bodhisattva, “How can I become a wanderer with this tuft of hair on the crown of my head?” So the Bodhisattva cut off the tuft with his knife. And that tuft was taken up by Śakra, the lord of devas, and received worship in Trāyastriṃśa (166) where the cūḍā festival is observed.
At the same time, Kaṇṭhaka licked the Bodhisattva’s feet but he went on his way unheeding.
I sing the praises of the going forth, how the Seer went forth from home. Seeing an old man and a dead man, the Sage was greatly moved.
Deeply stirred, the greatly wise and discerning one saw the peril in the world and went forth into the homeless state.
He left behind him mother and father and a host of kinsmen, and went away from Kapilavastu riding on his horse Kaṇṭhaka.
And when he abandoned his horse and Chandaka, he thereby sundered the ties that bound him to his home. Renouncing all this, he went on without regret.
Now when the Bodhisattva had gone away, Chandaka and Kaṇṭhaka returned from Anomiya, a place not far from the hermitage of the seer Vasiṣṭha. Chandaka handed over the jewels to King Śuddhodana and gave the message of greetings to him, to Mahāprajāpatī Gotamī and to other relations. But he had no message for Yaśodharā.
The monks heard of this after the Exalted One had set rolling the wheel of dharma, and they asked him, “How was it that the Exalted One went away heedless of Yaśodharā?” The Exalted One replied, “That was not the first time that I went away heedless of her. There was another occasion.” The monks asked, “Was there another occasion, Lord?” The Exalted One replied, “Yes, monks.”
Footnotes and references:
[1]:
Reading śaṅkhalikhita for samlikhita, see above, p. 114, n. 3.
[2]:
I.e., to which you are going.
[3]:
Paryākulā mi diśatā pratibhānti sarve, where mi is unintelligible. Is it a mistake for hi, “for”?
[4]:
Traso. Or read trāso “(there is) terror.” Two MSS. have trosau and trāsau, respectively.
[5]:
Nityāntareṇa manasā kṛtamokṣabuddhi: The first word is difficult, but Senart says that the reading appears certain. He, however, takes nitya “permanent” as the equivalent of nirvāṇa and antara as meaning “obstacle,” and translates “appliquant à l’idée de la délivrance ton esprit (jusqu’ à présent) tenu à l’écart du nirvāṇa.” This is somewhat strained, and it seems simpler to keep to the literal sense of nitya and antareṇa.
[6]:
Niśāmya, “observing,” Pali nisamma.
[7]:
Pratibhuko bhavati, “be a surety.” Below on the same page we have the regular form pratibhū.
[8]:
Duhkhaśalya. Cf. the use of salla in Pali. See P.E.D. where reference is made to the seven stings enumerated at Nd. 59, rāgasalla, dosa°, moha°, māna°, diṭṭhi°, soka°, and kathaṅkathā°.
[9]:
Pratibhutā, the abstract noun from pratibhū, pratibhuka, above.
[10]:
Mūle udāharato bhava. But the text is very doubtful. Senart says of it, “bhava est si faible et cet emploi de udāharati si forcé, que je ne crois guère à l’exactitude du texte.”
[11]:
Kāmaguṇās, usually five, i.e. the pleasures provided by the five senses. See above p. 113.
[12]:
Madhuraṃ repeated. Senart suggests that the correct reading here or on its first occurrence would be a word denoting “song.”
[13]:
Or “playfully” salilaṃ = salīlaṃ metri causa. So Senart. Should we take the word as being saiila, “flowing,” i.e. eloquently?
[14]:
Na khu. Senart suggests that this verse looks like an interpolation to tone down the apparent desire of the Bodhisattva for sensual pleasures. But Miss I. B. Horner makes the interesting suggestion that it is, on the contrary, very much to the point, stressing as it does the humanity of the Bodhisattva in having known the temptation of desire.
[15]:
Yāvadṛśamudāharati—“in the way he expressed it.”
[16]:
See p. 40, n. 8.
[17]:
Omitted in text.
[19]:
The rendering of ahaṃkāra and mamakāra has been adopted from The Living Thoughts of Gotama the Buddha, presented by A. K. Coomaraswamy and I. B. Horner, pp. 162, 3, where will be found a representative selection of passages from Pali texts, in which the notions denoted by the terms are condemned as wrong and harmful.
[20]:
See Vol. I, p. 178, n. 2.
[21]:
Literally, “enough of (being) a long time,” alaṃ cireṇa.
[22]:
Omitted in text.
[23]:
Brūhi upagataṃ mayā saha. Senart interprets upagataṃ on the analogy of abhyupagata = cittaṃabhyupagata, e.g. Vol. I, p. 72; mayā saha—‘along with me,’ i.e. speak (and) share with me.
[24]:
See Vol. I, p. 55, n. 2.
[25]:
Aho dharmaṃ. See Vol. I, p. 192, n. 4.
[26]:
Reading nātravaśo for nātrāvaso of the text. Two MSS. have nātravaso.
[27]:
Amṛtaṃ, i.e. Nirvāṇa. For this description of Nirvana, cf. M. I. 167.
[28]:
See p. 37.
[30]:
See Vol. I, p. 78, n. 1.
[31]:
The text has suparīttam bhāvayiṣyati. Senart, citing Childers s.v. paritto, assumes that the allusion is to a dhyāna (jhāna) so called. It is true that paritta is applied to the first jhāna at Dhs. 181, but it is only by way of a descriptive adjective, “limited” or “restricted.” It is far from certain, therefore, that the allusion is to a particular mode of meditation. Paritta may quite as well refer here to citta. At A. I. 249 we are told that a man “who has not developed his body, morality, thought and wisdom” (abhāvitakāyo abhāvitasīlo abhāvitacitto abhāvitapañño) is paritta “limited” or “finite,” while he who has done so is aparitta. Cf. also M. 2. 262, aparittaṃ ca me cittaṃ bhavissati appamāṇaṃ subhāvitam, a passage which tempts one to think that our text should be emended to read aparittaṃ [cittaṃ] subhāvayiṣyati. The A. passage referred to says that the man who has so developed himself is also mahattā as well as aparitta, so that an alternative supposition is that suparīttam in our text refers to ātma. But whatever substantive is to be understood, the omission of it is very strange. (The translator is indebted for these suggested interpretations to Miss I. B. Horner.)
[32]:
[33]:
The application of the same terms to both father and son is rather awkward.
[34]:
Jīrṇaṃ mṛtāntaraṃ. Senart says that one could conceivably emend the second word into mṛtāntaṃ, but then one would have to make the unlikely assumption that the two participial adjectives jīrṇa and mṛta were the equivalent of the abstract jarā and maraṇa, “old age has death as its end.”
[35]:
See Vol. I, p. 99, n. 1.
[36]:
Dharmasaṃskāra.
[37]:
Vipraveśeyā. The context shows that this must mean something like “disappear,” but it is not easy to see how a compound of viś, “to enter” (here causative for primary), even granting a wholly negative force to the prefix vi-, can have this sense. The reading may be regarded as highly doubtful. The sense of the context could be secured by the simple emendation into vipravaseyā from vipravasati (Pali vippavasati) “to be away from home,” “be absent,” hence “to disappear.” This suggested emendation is due to Miss I. B. Horner, who compares V. 3. 197, ticīvarena vippavaseyya “(if a monk) should be separated from his three robes.” See her Book of the Discipline, 2, pp. 13, 14.
[38]:
The founder of the Śākyan royal family. See Vol. I, p. 293.
[39]:
The text here reads te nimantremi jarāmaraṇasya antobhaveyā, the end of which phrase is, as Senart says, far from clear. Nimantremi, of course, takes up the thought of the invitation to the birthday feast referred to above. As it stands the phrase means “I invite you that there be an end of old age and death” but the construction is not easy to understand. As nimantreti, “to invite” is used with the instrumental of what one is invited to, it is suggested that the right reading is antobhāvena, and this has been adopted for translation.
[40]:
There is some syntactical incoherence here: drakṣyasi mama iha sarvagativimuktaṃ... sarvajvalākleśāparītasya... bhāvayantasya. We should expect °paritaṃ... bhāvayantaṃ to agree, as the other participles in the sentence do, with the accusative mama. But it would seem that by the end of the sentence this pronoun had come to be felt to be genitive, as from its form it could well be.
[41]:
Bodhyaṅga, Pali bojjhaṅga, “a factor or constituent of knowledge.” Pali texts (cf. Divy. 208), give them as seven in number. (See P.E.D.) So also p. 301 below.
[42]:
Pañcāṅgikā tūryāni. See Vol. I, p. 135, n. 2.
[43]:
Literally, “there may be one having an awareness of a woman,” Strīsañjño bhaveya.
[44]:
Reading kampeya for kalpeya.
[45]:
Viparītasañjñā.
[46]:
Literally, “It is like this body,” yathāyam kāyo.
[47]:
The adjectives here become neuter.
[48]:
Sarvameva dharmdkāyam. But as kāya in the sense of physical body is the topic in this passage, it may be better to read, with one MS., sarvakāyadharmam, “the state or condition of every body.”
[49]:
The reading adopted for translation is based on MSS. C. and B. The text has kimidaṃ niṣpuruṣeṇa rajyasi, “therefore (wherefore) you are excited by a woman,” which is against the context. The reading adopted is kimidaṃ puruṣa na niṣpuruṣeṇa rajyasi. Nispuruṣa is usually an adjective (see, e.g., Vol. I, p. 183, n. 2) and it is easy to assume that here it qualifies rūpa understood from the preceding clause.
[50]:
Literally, “what view do you discriminate,” ham tvaṃ darśanamupalakṣayasi.
[51]:
Vijñāna.
[52]:
Gatis, see Vol. I, p. 36, n. 4.
[53]:
Kleśaśatānāṃ gābhīratā, “the profoundness of hundreds of lusts.”
[54]:
Literally, “the point farthest back is not understood,” purimā koṭi na prajñāyati. See Vol. I, p. 98, n. 2, and cf. 5. 2. 178, pubbākoṭi na paññāyati.
[55]:
Literally, “(follows) one after the other,” parasparaṃ But there is no verb of any kind!
[56]:
See Vol. I, p. 99, n. 1.
[57]:
? athāparaṃ gurujaneṣu,
[58]:
Cf. Miln. 333.
[59]:
Cf. S. 2. 106, evam eva kvāhaṃ addassaṃ purāṇaṃ maggaṃ purāṇāñjasaṃ pubbakehi sammāsambuddhehi anuyātam... tam anugacchim.
[60]:
Reading, with one MS., antaḥpuram for antarapuram of the text.
[61]:
Saṃskṛtapratyayam. Saṃskṛta is Pali saṅkhata, “made up,” “conditioned,” and therefore transient and impermanent.
[62]:
[63]:
Kāye ca sarpasamā. This figure is obscure. It would be feasible to emend into kayo ca sarpasamo, “the body is like a serpent,” but this would give merely a weakened repetition of the preceding simile. Besides, in the repetition on the next page we have tatra (There = in the body) sarpasamā. Probably the allusion is to the hibernating habit of the snake.
[64]:
See Vol. I, p. 58, n. 3.
[66]:
No doubt with reference to the figure in 5.4.174, suñño gāmo ti kho bhikkhave channaṃ ajjhatikānaṃ adhivacanam, “the empty village, brethren, is a name for the personal six-fold sense-sphere,” Cf. Vism. 484.
[67]:
Śiṣyapratoda.
[68]:
Reading na kvacidanyatarāyām kanyānām, etc., for kvacijjanatāyāḥ kanyānān kumārasya cittaṃ abhiramet. Senart doubts the correctness of the text reading and is forced to render, “non sans quelque violence,” as “pour voir si dans toute la population il n’y aurait pas une jeune fille dont s’éprenne le prince.” The suggested emendation, besides retaining the intransitive force of abhiramet, allows the straightforward rendering given above.
[69]:
See Vol. I, pp. 265 ff.
[70]:
See Vol. I, p. 28, n. 5.
[71]:
Fashioned (miraculously), nirmita, often used in this sense.
[72]:
Adhvagata, BSk. = Pali addhaṅgata.
[73]:
Prakhalati, BSk. = Pali pakkhalati, Sk., praskhalati.
[74]:
Reading kumāra for kumāro.
[75]:
Dakodarika. The corresponding term in Lal. Vist., 228, is udarākula i.e. “swollen belly.” Daka, as in Pali, is “an aphâeretic from combinations like sītodaka, which was taken for sīto-daka.” (See P.E.D.)
[76]:
Bhinnamukhavarṇo, “broken complexion of the face.”
[77]:
This is a free translation of an unusual expression, cittāśrayāṇāṃ nidhi, “the receptacle of (= what holds) the heart and body” i.e. “the feelings and sense.”
[78]:
Another unusual expression, gātrāśritānāṃ gṛhaṃ, “the home of the things which pertain to the limbs or body.” Śenart refers to Burnouf: Introduction à l’histoire du buddhisme indien, p. 449, for explanation of the terms āśraya and āśrita and renders “le receptacle de la pensée et de sens... la demeure des corps et des sensations.”
[79]:
? Sanandīghoṣena sakhurapravālena, “with a merry sound (made by) a hoof that was of coral.” In our text sanandīghoṣa is often found as an epithet of ratha, “chariot,” but sakhurapravāla must obviously allude to the horse drawing it, for no part of a chariot can be called khura. On p. 420 (text) sakhurapravāla is an epithet of nāga, “elephant,” though it is applied almost in the next sentence to ratha; but it is assumed in the note on that passage that this is due to a copyist’s error.
[80]:
Reading nāthānāthan for nāthavantam.
[81]:
See Vol. I, p. 164, n. 4. The text here has nimittika for naimittika.
[82]:
Yasya... kālam manyase. See Vol. I, p. 269, n. 1.
[83]:
See Vol. I, p. 28, n. 1.
[84]:
Iriyāpathasampanno. See Vol. I, p. 18, n. 5.
[85]:
Yugamātraprekṣamāṇa. See Vol. I, p. 250.
[86]:
Janasahasre kapilarājamārge.
[87]:
Literally “the crowded path of one related to Indra, i.e. royal” janavikīrṇe aindramārge. But the reading is very doubtful and Senart admits that it is not close to the MSS., two of which have janakapilena. The whole phrase is obviously related to and practically synonymous with the prose expression immediately above, janasahasre kapilarājamārge.
[88]:
Cakravāka, see Miln. 401, where there is a chapter extolling the qualities of this bird.
[89]:
In J. I.60 she is called Kisāgotamī, and according to the account in Rockhill: Life of the Buddha, etc., p. 24, she became the Bodhisattva’s wife seven days before he left home. See E. J. Thomas: The Life of Buddha, p. 54 (footnote).
[90]:
Cf. DhA. I.85; BudvA. 280.
[91]:
I.e. in the adjective nirvṛta (Pali nibbuta) “released,” which for want of a better word has been translated “blessed.”
[92]:
Sampraskande, Pali sampakkhandati (Miln. 35). For the expression cf. 5. 3. 133 nibbāne cittam na pakkhandati nappasīdati.
[93]:
Literally, “he took up his hearing in (listening to) Nirvana,” nirvāṇe śrotamādade.
[94]:
Akutobhayam, adverbial accusative, “with no fear from anywhere.”
[95]:
Literally “was opened by five hundred men,” apāvurīyati, BSk. = Pali apāpurīyati, passive of apāpurati, corresponding to Sk. apāvṛṇoti.
[96]:
Reading kālajñātāsampanno for kālanirnāma° which does not seem to make sense here. Kālajña, Pali kālaññū, “knowing the fit time” is one of the attributes of a “cakravartin” king (A. 3. 148) and of a good man, sappurisa (D. 3. 252, 283). Cf. Vol. I, p. 4.
[97]:
This verse is rather obscure. It would be less so if we could read vitarkayasi for the imperative vitarkaya, but, as Senart points out, the metre is against the change.
[98]:
Cf. Vol. I, p. 41.
[99]:
According to J. 1. 60, AA. 1. 82 Rāhula was born on the day his father went away.
As it is not possible without elaborate research into musical matters, if even then, to discriminate between many of these musical instruments, and as, moreover, the dictionaries do not know some of their names, it has been thought advisable to give all the names in their original form, with the definition given by the dictionaries, where available, in a footnote. The vīṇa or Indian lute is, of course, well known.
Flute or reed-pipe.
Cf. Lal. Vist. 252.
See Vol. I, p. 183, n. 3. Cf. Lal. Vist., 252 and 258.
? Note: tuṇava in Vedic means a kind of wind instrument.
A doubtful word printed with a question mark.
?
?
A lute, identical with (? or similar to) the vīṇa.
Dhakka “a large or double drum" + paṭaha, “kettle-drum,” “tabour.”
Indian lute,? another name for the vīṇa.
A kind of drum or tabour.
A kind of drum or kettle-drum.
A sort of musical instrument, a small drum or tabour or kind of cymbal.
A sort of drum.
A sort of drum.
A vīṇa, a lute of seven strings.
Cf. V. i. 15, hatthappattaṃ susānaṃ maññc, “one would thiṅkone’s hand had reached the cemetery” (= “like a cemetery before his very eyes.”—Miss I. B. Horner in her forthcoming volume of th eBook of Discipline).
The god of wealth, here called by his patronymic Vaiśravaṇa, the son of Viśravas.
Pallānayantena = paryānayantena from pari-ā-nī. So Senart.
Mandārava, but here the spelling is maṇḍārava.
See Vol. I, p. 221, n. I.
Unknown, but cf. rocana, the name of various flowering trees.
“Name of a celestial flower.”
Unknown.
Name of a tree and its flowers in the Mvyut.
BSk. form of the Pali pāricchattaka, the coral tree Erythma Indica, a tree in Indra’s heaven. In Vol. I, p. 267 (text), the form pāriyātra is found. (See note Vol. I, p. 221).
Reading akardamam “free from dirt” for kardamam (sic) of the text.
See Vol. I, p. 25, n. 3.
Yadi na samajavo ten a bhavāmi. But there is no verb on which this clause can properly depend, nor even an iti to mark the “reported speech.” The whole sentence, as Senart points out, is of doubtful correctness.
Upāyāsa BSk., Pali, id.
It would appear that this part of the narrative has been inserted from another source, namely from one of the many accounts of his history given by the Buddha himself to the monks. Up to this point the narrative has been recounted by an independent narrator.
Parijuññena parijūrṇa. Parijuñña here and in the compounds below must be taken as an abstract noun. We should expect the form pārijuñña, as in Pali, with the sense of “loss,” “decay,” “poverty.”
This passage has already occurred in Vol. I, p. 41 (text), where see notes (Vol. I, p. 35).
The text repeats the whole sentence in each case.
See preceding note.
This is strange doctrine or mythology. There is not, nor could there be, elsewhere any mention of perfect Buddhas as such sojourning among the Śuddhāvāsa devas. Equally strange is it to speak of perfect Buddhas of limited splendour. What has happened is that in some way or other saṃyagsambuddhānām has taken the place of devānām. Devas of limited splendour (parīttābhā) were a special class of devas whose radiance or splendour was limited (parītta) because, as humans, they had been content to absorb the idea of lesser brilliancy. (M. 3. 147.) They belong to the plane of the second dhyāna (jhāna). See D.P.N. for references.
See Vol. I, p. 35. n. 4.
See Vol. I, p. 165, n. 2.
Nagaradevatā. She appears also in Lal. Vist., 272.
See Vol. I, p. 54, n. 3.
In the Pali texts and in Lal. Vist. we are told that the Buddha came to the river Anomā, which was thirty leagues to the east of Kapilavastu. See D.P.N. and references there.
See Vol. I, p. 32, n. 2.
Younger sister of Māyā. (Śuddhodana married both.) She looked after Gotama and nursed him after his mother’s death.
? Jātasya janmani. The whole verse, however, is obscure, and Senart suggests that a part of the text giving Chandaka’s reasons why Gotama should not leave home has dropped out. Perhaps these two words could be taken to imply that Chandaka urged the need of the young Rāhula for his father.
Literally “that your gatis is the four continents,” cāturdrīpagatis. Perhaps we should read °patis, “you will become lord of the four continents.”