OF A PECULIARLY interesting feature of this Jâtaka is the fact that it has undoubtedly been depicted on the western gateway of the Sanchi Tope (Figure 1 in Plate xxxvi. of Fergusson's "Tree and Serpent Worship"), and will illustrate what curiously erroneous theories may be evolved from imperfect data. I feel convinced that a complete knowledge of the Jâtaka and other stories current in Buddhist literature would enable one to explain most of the scenes depicted on these and other Buddhist ruins. That trees and serpents were, and are, largely worshipped is not to be denied, but I think it will be clearly seen from this and other plates that Fergusson did not draw correct deductions regarding the Sanchi and Amravati Topes. In his second edition he admits this. Fergusson gives the dates of the Sanchi gates as first century A.D.; if this be correct, it proves that this is one of the early Jâtaka, and that the so-called ten greater Jâtaka are not all late compositions. At Plate xxxii. of the northern gate we have the Vessantara Jâtaka, and at
Plate xxiv. 2 Bhûridatta. Below is what Fergusson says of Plate xxxvi. p. 138 of the first edition. "The upper portion of the plate represents one of those transactions between the Hindus and Dasyus, which have probably only a local meaning. . . . . . "In the centre of the upper part of the picture a Hindu chief, or Râja, accompanied by his minister, is conversing with a Dasyu, whose two wives, or daughters, are seen beyond him on his left hand. "On the Râja's right are two of the ordinary circular huts of the Dasyus, in front of which a man and woman are seated naked. They are sitting on their lower garments, and their upper cloaks are hung in their huts. Two monkeys are playing above them. Between these two huts is seen the fire-pot, which is almost an invariable accompaniment whenever these Dasyus are represented. Below it is the water-pot, and beside it the ladle or pincers. From their position here they would seem to be the sacred implements of the tribe. Did fire and serpent worship go together?" In his second edition, p. 151, he says: "Mr. Beal is of opinion that Fig. 1, Plate xxxvi. represents the principal scenes of the Sâma Jâtaka as quoted below, and I am not prepared to say this may not be correct; but, if so, the form of the fable must have been considerably altered since the first century, at Sanchi, the king, does not kill the boy by accident. He is being deliberately shot by a soldier. The King is standing unarmed at some distance with his minister beside him, talking to an ascetic, accompanied by his two wives or daughters, and consequently not Dakhala, which, otherwise, we might fancy him to be from the repetition of the same figure occurring sometimes in these bas-reliefs. "It is probable that the figure in front of the Pansalas are meant to be represented as blind, not only from their being naked, but also from the monkeys stealing the fruit and pulling the thatch off the roof, with other circumstances. The two figures in the centre do look like a reduplication of the boy and the minister, and it is absolutely necessary
Both Beal and Fergusson quote Hardy, whose summary of the Sâma Jâtaka in Eastern Monachism is very brief. Where Fergusson got the idea of a minister and soldiers I cannot understand. Nor can I agree with Beal in thinking that the figure standing between Sâma and the archers is the Devi. It is clearly a man. I would suggest that we must look at this picture as composed of two halves, the one to our right being the ordinary part of Sâma's life and that to the left the extraordinary. On the right we see the blind Dukûla and Pârikâ, and Sâma coming to draw water at the Migasammatâ, his usual vocation. On our left the king shoots and then converses with him. Above we see the Devi with Dukûla and Pârikâ making the "sacca kiriyâ," the king, wearing his cloth ungirt in the usual manner, standing behind. He then appears again in the centre, taking leave of Sâma and promising to lead a good life. The head of a duck in the water behind the left hand group shows that they are on the bank of a bend in the river. Mr. Beal's remarks are to be found in R.A.S. Journal, Vol. V. N.S. p. 164. Suva.n.na Sâma Jâtaka.[1] In the country of Savutthi there was a very rich merchant who had an only son, and he was beloved by both his parents. One day, when looking out of the window, he saw a number of people going to the Jetavan monastery to hear the Buddha Gotama preach; so, taking
[1. In the Gâta he is always called Sâma, and I cannot find the word Suva.n.na. The number in Ceylon List is 543.] The youth, through grief, was unable to eat for seven days; so his parents said, "Verily, if we do not give him leave he will die, and we shall no longer behold him. It will be better to grant his request." So they consented. The youth went with great joy into the presence of the Buddha and requested to be admitted to the Order. The Lord thereupon summoned a Monk and directed that he should be made a novice. After studying for five years he thought, "There is too much to distract me here, and I desire to complete myself in the Vipassanâdhura"; so, taking his Kammathan, he left Jetavan, and went into an out-of-the-way part of the country. However; after studying there for ten years, he was still unable to obtain the "path" or "fruition." During those ten years his parents had grown old, and, being robbed by their servants, were reduced to great poverty. Only one small water-pot remained to them. At that time a Monk came out from Jetavan to the place where the novice was. Falling into conversation, the novice enquired after the health of the Buddha and his eighty chief disciples. Afterwards he made enquiries regarding his parents. The Monk replied, "Good sir, do not ask me about them. They had an only son, who became an ascetic, and from that day they have declined and are now in abject poverty, begging their daily food." The novice burst into tears, and, on the Monk asking why he wept, said, "O reverend sir, those poor ones are
In the morning he handed over his cell to the Monk, and started for Jetavan. Now at the back of the monastery there were two roads, one leading to the monastery, and the other to the city. Standing there he reflected thus: "Ought I first to pay my respects to my parents, or to Buddha? I may see my parents for some time, but the Buddha only this day. I will go at once to the Buddha, and to-morrow go to see my parents." Now that very morning the Excellent One had taken a survey of the world, and had seen that the novice was on the point of attaining "the path," so, when he arrived at the monastery, the Lord was preaching on the "Sutta," called Mâtuposaka. The novice, sitting at the edge of the assembly, heard this beautiful discourse, and thought, "I can leave the Order and look after my parents. But the excellent Lord says, 'Even though you be a Rahan you should repay your parents for the benefits they have conferred upon you.' Verily, had I passed by without doing reverence to the Lord, I should have been abased from the status of a Rahan, which is so difficult to attain. I will not leave the Order, but remain in it and look after my parents." Having made a reverent obeisance to the Lord he left Jetavan and proceeded to Sâvatthi, and having begged his food and taking it to the forest, became as if he were one who had merited expulsion (Pârâjika). In the morning he went to beg his rice, and then to see if he could find his parents. At the same time they, having begged their daily meal, were sitting under the wall of
The Monks, who were his companions, then questioned him, saying, "Sir, you were once very handsome, but now you are rough, dirty, and withered; what ails you? Why do you give away the offerings made to you? It is not lawful." He hid his head through shame and made no answer. The Monks went to Buddha, and said, "Lord, this Monk makes away with the goods that are presented to him." The Lord then sent for him and questioned him, saying, "Dear sir, is it true that you give to men the things that are bestowed upon you as offerings?" The Monk replied, "It is true, Lord. I give them to my parents." The Lord replied, "Dear sir, it is well done, it is well done. Thou art one who walkest in 'the path.' In former ages I also supported my parents." The young Monk was comforted and the Buddha remained silent. The Monks then asked the Buddha to relate the story of his former existence, and he related as follows. The parents of Pârikâ also pressed her to marry Dukûla, but she would not. Dukûla then sent Pârikâ a secret message, to the effect that she had better marry some one else, and she also sent a message to the same effect. The parents forced them to wed, but, nevertheless, they embarked not on the ocean of lust, but, with the consent of their parents, became hermits. Leaving their native villages, they retired to Himavanta, and following a tributary of the Ganges, called Migasammatâ, they at last arrived in the forest. Sakka, becorning aware of their intention, directed Visakrom to prepare a cell for them. Dukûla and Pârikâ, following a path, came to their cell, and seeing, by the inscription, that it was intended for them, took off their ordinary garments and put on the hermit's dresses that had been prepared for them. They studied the Kâmâvacara Brahmavihâra, and became so imbued with lovingkindness that all the birds and animals loved them, and harmed them not. Every day they drew water from the stream, and went in search of fruits. Living apart, they kept the rules of ascetics most rigorously. One day Sakka came to see how they were getting on, and,
Dukûla answered, "Lord Sakka, why dost thou say this? When we lived amongst men we hated their ways, and now that we have become hermits how can we act thus?" Sakka replied, "There is no need for you to do so, but, at certain times, stroke Pârikâ's navel with your hand." He then took his departure. When Dukûla told Pârikâ she consented. Just then the Bodhisat was about to leave the Deva-heavens, so he took up his abode in the womb of Pârikâ, who, in due course, bore a son, whom she named Suva.n.nasâma. When Pârikâ went into the forest in search of fruits and roots the Kinnari nursed him. At the age of sixteen Suva.n.nasâma was alone in the cell, whilst his parents had gone out, and a great storm came on. They took refuge beneath a tree on a mound, in which dwelt a huge serpent. The rain washing the smell of their bodies into the serpent's nostrils it became enraged, and spat forth its poison, so that they both became blind and unable to find their way home.[1] As his parents did not return at the usual time, Suva.n.nasâma was alarmed, and determined to go and find them, so he went into the forest shouting Father! Mother! When they heard him they answered, saying, "Do not come close, dear one, there is danger." So he reached out his staff to them, and told them to lay hold of it. Seeing they were both blind he first wept and then laughed. On their asking why he rejoiced, he replied, "Dear Father and Mother, I wept at the thought that you had become blind whilst still so young, but when I remembered that I should now have to take care of you, I rejoiced." He
[1. This blindness is explained as follows: "In a former existence Dukûla was a doctor and attended a rich man who would not pay him. Being angry he went home and told his wife. The wife said, 'Go back and give him some medicine that will make him blind again.' He acted on this advice, and the rich man again lost his sight."] The Bodhisat, feeling that he was shot, and that the deer had all fled, carefully set down his water-pots, and, turning his face in the direction of the cell where his parents were, prostrated himself on the sand and there lamented.
Sâma.
Pi.liyakkha.
Sâma. "I am of the tribe of Nesâda, and my parents call me Sâma. O King of Kâsi, behold me as I lie here bathed in blood, and pierced by thine arrow, as if I were a deer. See how I spit blood. Since thou hast mortally wounded me, I ask thee, O King, why thou hast shot me? Wast thou in search of a leopard's skin or the tusks of an elephant? Why hast thou shot me, O Râja."
Pi.liyakkha.
Sâma. "O King, how canst thou say this? There is not a deer in the whole forest that would flee at the sight of me. From the time I began to know my own intelligence, from that moment neither deer nor other wild beasts fled from me. From the time that I first put on the red
Pi.liyakkha. "O Sâma, why do I speak falsely? The deer was not startled by thee; but in anger I let fly the arrow. Whence hast thou come, O Sâma, and by whom wast thou sent to draw water in the river Migasammatâ?"
Sâma. "Blind are my father and mother, whom I cherish in this vast forest. For them I draw water, coming to the Migasammatâ. "Alas! they, have but food for six days, and if water be not brought them they will die. My inability to see my parents is a far greater misery than the wound of this arrow. As for the pain caused by this arrow, all men will have to bear pain in hell. But if I see not my parents the smart will be far greater. "Alas! my parents will be left weeping for me, solitary and helpless. Even now, O King, they are bewailing my absence, and wandering through the forest calling for Sâma. This thought, indeed, is like a second arrow that rends my heart. Ne'er again shall I behold those dear blind ones."
Pi.liyakkha. "Weep not, O lovely Sâma, I will take up thy duties and feed them in this vast forest. I, so skilled with the bow; I, who am so rough and cruel; I will take upon me thy duties and feed thy parents; feeding them with fruits and meat left by the lions and tigers. O Sâma, where is their dwelling? Point it out quickly, and I will look after them as thou didst." "By this footpath, O Râja, from the spot where I lie dying, having gone not half the distance that a man's shout may reach, there thou shalt find my parents' dwelling; there are my father and my mother. Thither go and support them, Râja. The Râja promises to give the message and Sâma faints. Seeing that he had stopped breathing, and was growing stiff, the king became terrified, and, raising his hands to his head, lamented loudly, making the echoes resound with his cries, saying, "Formerly I thought not of death, but now that I see this Sâma dead before my very eyes, I know death must come to all men. But now he was speaking to me, and now through the power of this poisonous arrow he will speak no more, and I, who have slain this innocent one, must go to hell. For ages and ages I shall suffer, and I shall be known and reviled in every village as the king who did this terrible thing. Who is there in this vast forest, remote from men, who can revile me? In the towns and villages where men congregate let the memory of this sin be made known. Now I know that death must come to all, for I have seen it." (Turning to Pi.liyakkha.) "O Râja, of Kâsi, may thy coming be propitious. If there is anything in this place that thou desirest, speak. Tinduka and other sweet fruits, mangoes, oranges, and citrons, all are here; take, eat, I pray thee. Here is water from the deep pools of the mountain stream--cool and refreshing. Eat and drink, O Râja."
Pi.liyakkha. "O Sâma, I know not what to believe. Everything around me is in a haze, for I see thee again, O Sâma, risen from the dead. How didst thou come to life again?" "Mahârâja, thou thoughtest that one who had become unconscious by reason of excessive pain was really dead. Mahârâja, men think that a man is dead when his breathing is stayed by reason of his ceasing to breathe."
Pi.liyakkha.
Sâma. "When the Bodhisat had thus instructed him, and taught him the five commandments, King Pi.liyakkha, after doing reverence, returned to Bârâ.nasi and made a great offering. At the end of his days he went to Deva-land. Sâma and his parents, at their death, went to the country of the Brahmas. The Buddha then summed up the Jâtaka, saying, "The Râja, who was then Pi.liyakkha, is now Ânanda; the Devi Bahusundarî is now Upalava.n.na, the second amongst my Bhikkhunis; Sakka is now Anuruddha; Dukûla is Mahâkassapa Thera; Pârikâ is now Bhaddakapila Therî; and Suva.n.nasâma is I, the Buddha. Note.--Since writing the above I found a similar account of this Jâtaka in Rajendralâla Mitra's "Indo Aryans," p. 203.THE ROYAL ASIATIC SOCIETY.
[London, The Royal Asiatic Society]
[1894]
{Scanned and edited by Christopher M. Weimer, April 2002}
{circumflexes represent macrons in this file}
ART. VII.--The Story of Thuwannashan, or Suva.n.na Sâma Jâtaka, according to the Burmese version, published at the Hanthawati Press, Rangoon. By R. F. ST. ANDREW ST. JOHN, M.R.A.S.
(From this point the story is told in Pâli verse, somewhat in this fashion. In fact, the present form of the legend seems to be part of a miracle play.)
"Who has shot me with this arrow,
Me, so blameless, drawing water?
Brahman, Khattiya, or Vessa,
Lying hidden, who has shot me?Not for eating is my flesh fit,
Nor my skin for ought adapted,
Say, O friend, with what intention,
Lying hidden thou hast shot me?"
"I of Kâsi am the Râja,
I am known as Pi.liyakkha,
Casting off my state for pleasure,
Came I here to shoot the red deer.
Skilful am I with the long bow,
Far renowned for deeds of daring,
Ne'er may elephants escape me
Should they come within a bow-shot.
Say of whom thou art the offspring.
State thy name, thy tribe, thy father."
Hail to thee, O King of Kâsi!
Hail to thee Kâsi's protector!
My blind father and my mother,
Feed, I pray thee, in this forest.
Raising to my head my clasp'd hands,
I implore thee, Kâsi's Râja;
To my father and my mother
My last loving words deliver."
"Or his mother or his father
Should a mortal rightly cherish,
Verily the gods will heal him,
Him, supporter of his parents.
Or his father or his mother
Should a mortal rightly cherish,
In this life all men extol him,
In the next he dwells in heaven."
"Greatly have I been deluded
All confuses and perplexes:
I take refuge with thee, Sâma,
Be, I pray thee, my protector."
1. "O Mahârâja, of pure Khattiya race, if thou keepest the law and supportest thy father and mother, thou shalt attain Sagga." 2. "O Mahârâja, of pure Khattiya race, if thou keepest the law and supportest thy wife and children, thou shalt attain Sagga." 3. "O Mahârâja, if thou keepest the law towards thy friends and nobles, thou shalt attain Sagga." 4. "O Mahârâja, if thou keepest the law to thy chiefs and thy army, thou shalt attain Sagga." 5. "O Mahârâja, if thou rulest thy towns and villages according to the law, thou shalt attain Sagga." 6. "O Mahârâja, if thou rulest thy kingdom and its borders according to the law, thou shalt attain Sagga." "O Mahârâja, if thou doest rightly to Sâmanas and Brahmans, thou wilt attain Sagga."
8. "O Mahârâja, if thou actest rightly to all animals and birds, thou wilt attain Sagga." 9. "O Mahârâja, by practising the law, thou wilt attain Sagga." 10. "O Mahârâja, act according to the law. By so doing both Inda, the Brahmas, and other Devas obtained their abodes."
