II.—AVIDŪRE NIDĀNA. · 4

At that time a noble virgin, Kisā Gotamī by name, had gone to the flat roof of the upper story of her palace, and she beheld the beauty and majesty of the Bodisat as he was proceeding through the city. Pleased and delighted at the sight, she burst forth into this song of joy:—

80

271. Blessed indeed is that mother,— Blessed indeed is that father,— Blessed indeed is that wife,— Who owns this Lord so glorious!

Hearing this, the Bodisat thought to himself, “On catching sight of such a one the heart of his mother is made happy, the heart of his father is made happy, the heart of his wife is made happy! This is all she says. But by what can every heart attain to lasting happiness and peace?” And to him whose mind was estranged from sin the answer came, “When the fire of lust is gone out, then peace is gained; when the fires of hatred and delusion are gone out, then peace is gained; when the troubles of mind, arising from pride, credulity, and all other sins, have ceased, then peace is gained! Sweet is the lesson this singer makes me hear, for the Nirvāna of Peace is that which I have been trying to find out. This very day I will break away from household cares! I will renounce the world! I will follow only after the Nirvāna itself!192

Then loosing from his neck a string of pearls worth a hundred thousand, he sent it to Kisā Gotamī as a teacher’s fee. Delighted at this, she thought, “Prince Siddhattha has fallen in love with me, and has sent me a present.” But the Bodisat, on entering his palace in great splendour, reclined on a couch of state.

Thereupon women clad in beautiful array, skilful in81 the dance and song, and lovely as heavenly virgins, brought their musical instruments, and ranging themselves in order, danced, and sang, and played delightfully. But the Bodisat, his heart being estranged from sin, took no pleasure in the spectacle, and fell asleep.

And the women, saying, “He, for whose sake we were performing, is gone to sleep? Why should we play any longer?” laid aside the instruments they held, and lay down to sleep. The lamps fed with sweet-smelling oil were just burning out. The Bodisat, waking up, sat cross-legged on the couch, and saw them with their stage properties laid aside and sleeping—some foaming at the mouth, some grinding their teeth, some yawning, some muttering in their sleep, some gaping, and some with their dress in disorder—plainly revealed as mere horrible sources of mental distress.

Seeing this woful change in their appearance, he became more and more disgusted with lusts. To him that magnificent apartment, as splendid as Sakka’s residence in heaven, began to seem like a charnel-house full of loathsome corpses. Life, whether in the worlds subject to passion, or in the worlds of form, or in the formless worlds, seemed to him like staying in a house that had become the prey of devouring flames.193 An utterance of intense feeling broke from him—“It all oppresses me! It is intolerable!” and his mind turned ardently to the state of those who have renounced the world. Resolving that very day to accomplish the Great Renunciation, he rose from his couch, went to the door and called out, “Who is there?”

Channa, who had been sleeping with his head on the threshold, answered, “It is I, sir, Channa.”

82

Then said he, “I am resolved to-day to accomplish the Great Renunciation—saddle me a horse.”

So Channa went to the stable-yard, and entering the stables saw by the light of the lamps the mighty steed Kanthaka, standing at a pleasant spot under a canopy of cloth, beautified with a pattern of jasmine flowers. “This is the very one I ought to saddle to-day,” thought he; and he saddled Kanthaka.

Even whilst he was being saddled the horse knew, “He is saddling me so tightly, and not as on other days for such rides as those to the pleasure grounds, because my master is about to-day to carry out the Great Renunciation.” Then, glad at heart, he neighed a mighty neigh; and the sound thereof would have penetrated over all the town, had not the gods stopped the sound, and let no one hear it.

Now after the Bodisat had sent Channa on this errand, he thought, “I will just look at my son.” And rising from his couch he went to the apartments of Rāhula’s mother, and opened her chamber door. At that moment a lamp, fed with sweet-smelling oil, was burning dimly in the inner chamber. The mother of Rāhula was asleep on a bed strewn with many jasmine flowers,194 and resting her hand on the head of her son. Stopping with his foot on the threshold, the Bodisat thought, “If I lift her hand to take my son, she will awake; and that will prevent my going away. I will come back and see him when I have become a Buddha.” And he left the palace.

Now what is said in the Jātaka commentary, “At that time Rāhula was seven days old,” is not found in the other commentaries. Therefore the view given above should be accepted.195

And when the Bodisat had left the palace, he went to his horse, and said, “My good Kanthaka, do thou save me this83 once to-night; so that I, having become a Buddha by your help, shall save the world of men, and that of angels too.” Then leaping up, he seated himself on Kanthaka’s back.

Kanthaka was eighteen cubits in length from the nape of his neck, and of proportionate height; he was strong and fleet, and white all over like a clean chank shell. If he should neigh or paw the ground, the sound would penetrate through all the town. Therefore the angels so muffled the sound of his neighing that none could hear it; and placed, at each step, the palms of their hands under his feet.

The Bodisat rode on the mighty back of the mighty steed; told Channa to catch hold of its tail, and arrived at midnight at the great gate of the city.

Now the king thinking, “In that way the Bodisat will not be able at any time to open the city gate and get away,” had placed a thousand men at each of the two gates to stop him. The Bodisat was mighty and strong according to the measure of elephants as ten thousand million elephants, and according to the measure of men as a million million men. He thought, “If the door does not open, sitting on Kanthaka’s back with Channa holding his tail, I will press Kanthaka with my thighs, and jumping over the city rampart, eighteen cubits high, I will get away!” Channa thought, “If the door is not opened, I will take my master on my neck, and putting my right hand round Kanthaka’s girth, I will hold him close to my waist, and so leap over the rampart and get away!” Kanthaka thought, “If the door is not opened, I will spring up with my master seated as he is on my back, and Channa holding by my tail, and will leap over the rampart and get away!” And if the door had not been opened, verily one or other of those three would have accomplished that whereof he had thought. But the angel residing at the gate opened it.

At that moment Māra came there with the intention84 of stopping the Bodisat; and standing in the air, he exclaimed, “Depart not, O my lord! in seven days from now the wheel of empire will appear, and will make you sovereign over the four continents and the two thousand adjacent isles. Stop, O my lord!”

“Who are you?” said he.

“I am Vasavatti,” was the reply.

“Māra! Well do I know that the wheel of empire would appear to me; but it is not sovereignty that I desire. I will become a Buddha, and make the ten thousand world-systems shout for joy.”

Then thought the Tempter to himself: “Now, from this time forth, whenever a thought of lust or anger or malice shall arise within you, I will get to know of it.” And he followed him, ever watching for some slip, as closely as a shadow which never leaves its object.

But the future Buddha, making light of the kingdom of the world, thus within his reach,—casting it away as one would saliva,—left the city with great honour on the full-moon day of Āsāḷhi, when the moon was in the Uttarā-sāḷha lunar mansion (i.e. on the 1st July). And when he had left the city a desire sprang up within him to gaze upon it; and the instant he did so the broad earth revolved like a potter’s wheel, and was stayed: saying as it were to him, “O Great Being, there is no need for you to stop in order to fulfil your wish.” So the Bodisat, with his face towards the city, gazed at it; and he fixed at that place a spot for the Kanthaka-Nivattana Cetiya (that is, The Shrine of Kanthaka’s Staying—a Dāgaba afterwards built where this miracle was believed to have happened). And keeping Kanthaka in the direction in which he was going, he went on with great honour and exceeding glory.

For then, they say, angels in front of him carried sixty thousand torches, and behind him too, and on his right hand, and on his left. And while some deities, undefined85 on the edge of the horizon, held torches aloft; other deities, and the Nāgas, and Winged Creatures, and other superhuman beings, bore him company—doing homage with heavenly perfumes, and garlands, and sandal-wood powder, and incense. And the whole sky was full of Paricchātaka flowers from Indra’s heaven, as with the pouring rain when thick clouds gather. Heavenly songs floated around; and on every side thousands of musical instruments sounded, as when the thunder roars in the midst of the sea, or the great ocean heaves against the boundaries of the world!

Advancing in this pomp and glory, the Bodisat, in that one night, passed beyond three kingdoms, and arrived, at the end of thirty leagues, at the bank of the river called Anomā. But why could not the horse go still further? It was not through want of power: for he could go from one edge of the round world to the other, as easily as one could step across the circumference of a wheel lying on its side;—and doing this in the forenoon, he could return and eat the food prepared for him. But on this occasion he was constantly delayed by having to drag himself along, and break his way through the mass of garlands and flowers, cast down from heaven in such profusion by the angels, and the Snakes, and the Winged Creatures, that his very flanks were hid. Hence it was that he only got over thirty leagues.

Now the Bodisat, stopping at the river side, asked Channa, “What is this river called?”

“Its name, my lord, is Anomā.”

“And so also our renunciation of the world shall be called Anomā (illustrious),” said he; and signalling to his horse, by pressing it with his heel, the horse sprang over the river, five or six hundred yards in breadth, and stood on the opposite bank.