Part 13

In the course of time Jīvaka arrived at Takshaśilā, and Pushkarasārin, after reading the letter, handed him over to Ātreya, to whom he gave orders to instruct in the healing art the prince who had come there on his account. When Ātreya began to teach him, Jīvaka mastered everything excellently at the slightest intimation. Now Ātreya was wont, when he visited a patient, to take a young Brahman along with him. One day he took Jīvaka also, gave him directions to administer such and such remedies, and then went away. Jīvaka thought, “In the present case the master has made a mistake. If the patient takes this medicine, he will die this very day. As the remedy which the master has prescribed is not good, I will contrive an expedient.” So he left the house along with Ātreya, and said when he came back again, “The doctor has told me not to give the medicine which he has prescribed, but such and such a remedy.” When the patient had been treated in this way, he became better. The next time Ātreya visited the patient, after asking how he was getting on, he gave directions that the same medicine should be given to him on the following day. Being asked whether he meant the medicine which he had prescribed first or that which he had afterwards ordered, he said, “What did I prescribe first, and what afterwards?” He was told, “You prescribed the one when you were present here; about the other you gave orders to Jīvaka.” He said to himself, “I made a mistake. Jīvaka is endowed with great insight.” Then he said that the medicine which Jīvaka had prescribed was to be given.

Ātreya became well pleased with Jīvaka, and took him along with him wherever he went. The Brahmans’ sons said, “O teacher, you are well pleased with him because he is a king’s son, and you bestow instruction upon him, but none upon us.” He replied, “That is not the case. Jīvaka possesses great intelligence, and he is able to comprehend intuitively whatever I indicate to him.” They said, “O teacher, how do you know this?” He said to the Brahmans’ sons, “Go and ask the price of various commodities, you of such a one, you of such another.” And having so spoken he sent them off to the market. He also gave orders to Jīvaka to ask the price of a certain article. The Brahmans’ sons did as they were bid. Jīvaka did likewise. But then he said to himself, “Suppose the master asks the prices of other wares, what shall I be able to reply? I will make myself acquainted with the prices of other commodities as well.” When they had all returned to their teacher, they rendered an account of those things which they had been ordered to do. Then Ātreya began to ask the price of articles which he had not mentioned, saying, “O Brahman’s son, what does this or that commodity cost?” He whom he questioned replied that he did not know. In like manner did the others make reply when he questioned them. But Jīvaka, when he was asked, told him the price of every kind of goods.

“O Brahmans’ sons,” said Ātreya, “have ye heard?”

“We have heard.”

“Behold, this is the reason why I said that Jīvaka, as he is possessed of remarkable insight, intuitively comprehends any matter on a slight intimation being given to him. I will give you yet another proof of this.”

Then he said to his pupils, “Go to the pine-hill, and fetch from it that which is no remedy.” They went thither, and each of them brought away that which he thought was no remedy. But Jīvaka reflected that there is scarcely anything which is not a remedy, so he brought away only a knot from a reed and a morsel of stone. Halfway back he met a herd-girl, who was carrying a jug of curdled milk and a leavening pot, and who was intending to go to Ātreya, as she was suffering greatly with her eyes. Jīvaka asked her where she was going. When she had told him, he showed her a remedy which was near at hand. She applied it, and was cured at once. Full of joy thereat she said, “Take this pot and this jug of curdled milk.” He accepted the pot, but he gave her back the jug of curdled milk. Then he went on his way carrying the pot.

Now the Brahmans’ sons saw some elephant tracks in the middle of the road, and took to inspecting them. When Jīvaka came up with them, he asked what those marks were. “Footprints of an elephant,” they replied. He said, “Those are the footprints of an elephant, not male but female, blind of the right eye, and about to bring forth young to-day. On it a woman was riding. She too is blind of the right eye, and she will bear a son to-day.”

When they had all returned to Ātreya, each of them showed what he had brought away with him. Ātreya said, “O Brahmans’ sons, all these things are remedies. This one is of use in such and such an illness, and the others in other illnesses.” When Jīvaka was asked what he had brought, he said, “O teacher, all things are remedies; there exists nothing which is not a remedy. However, I have brought with me the knot of a reed, a morsel of stone, and a leavening pot.”

“Of what use are these things?”

“If a man is stung by a scorpion, he can be fumigated with the reed knot and healed with the leavening pot, and with the morsel of stone can a pot of curdled milk be broken at harvest-time.”

Ātreya laughed. The Brahmans’ sons thought that the teacher was displeased with him, so they said, “O teacher, do you suppose that is all? We saw the track of an elephant in the middle of the road, and Jīvaka declared that the track was that of a female elephant, blind of the right eye and big with young, and that it will bring forth a young elephant to-day; and also that a woman had been seated upon it, who was also pregnant and blind of the right eye, and who will give birth to-day to a son.”

Ātreya asked, “O Jīvaka, is this true?”

“Yes, O teacher.”

“How did you know whether the footprints were those of a male or of a female elephant?”

“O teacher,” replied Jīvaka, “how could I, who was brought up in a royal family, help knowing that? The footprints of a male elephant are round, those of a female elephant are oblong.”

“How did you know that she was blind of the right eye?”

“Because she had eaten the grass which grew on the left side only.”

“How did you know that she is big with young?”

“Because she had pressed hard with her feet.”

“How did you know that she will give birth to a male foal?”

“Because she pressed hardest on the right side.”

“How did you know that a woman had been riding on the elephant?”

“From her track in the road when she alighted.”

“How did you know that she was blind of the right eye?”

“Because as she walked she plucked the flowers which grew on the left side only.”

“How did you know that she was with child?”

“Because the heels of her feet had made the deepest impression. All this is so, but if the teacher does not believe me, let him send one of the Brahmans’ sons to the inn.”

Ātreya sent some of them there, and all turned out to be just as Jīvaka had said. Then Ātreya said to the Brahmans’ sons, “O Brahmans’ sons, have ye comprehended? After such a fashion is Jīvaka’s intelligence remarkable.”

Jīvaka had learnt the whole art of healing, with the exception of the operation of skull-opening. Now a man who was afflicted by a cerebral malady came to Ātreya and asked him to treat him. Ātreya replied that the man must dig a pit that day and provide it with dung, and that next day he would take the case in hand. When Jīvaka heard this, he went to him and said, “O friend, all that I have learnt have I learnt for the benefit of mankind. As I have not yet learnt the operation of skull-opening, hide me away so that I may see how you perform it.” Ātreya promised to do so, and showed him a place to hide in.

When Ātreya came, he placed the man in the pit, opened his skull, and was about to seize the reptile with his pincers, when Jīvaka cried out, “O teacher, be not hasty in seizing it; otherwise this son of a good family might die to-day.”

“Are you there, Jīvaka?” asked Ātreya.

“Yes, teacher,” he replied.

“How then ought I to seize the reptile?”

“O teacher, warm the pincers and touch its back therewith. Then, if the reptile draws its arms and feet together, give it a toss out.”

When all this had been done the man was cured.

Then Ātreya said, “O Jīvaka, go and bathe, and then come to me. As I am much pleased, I will communicate to you after what fashion the skull is opened.”

Jīvaka bathed, and Ātreya showed him after what fashion the skull ought to be opened. Then Ātreya said, “O Jīvaka, as I earn my bread thereby, do not practise the art in this country.”

“O teacher, I will act accordingly.”

With these words Jīvaka paid his respects to Ātreya. Then he went to King Pushkarasārin, and informed him that, as he had now learnt the art of healing, he was about to take his departure.

Now there were in the borderland at that time some enemies of Pushkarasārin named Pāṇḍavas. Then said the king, “O Jīvaka, my enemies the Pāṇḍavas are in the borderland; bring them to discomfiture by the force of your intelligence, and afterwards come back here. Then will we proceed after the fashion of the world.” Jīvaka promised to do so. As soon as a fourfold army had been equipped, he set out, discomfited the Pāṇḍavas of the borderland, took hostages and tribute from them, and then, having returned safely, handed over to the king what he had taken. The king was greatly pleased, and bestowed presents on Jīvaka, as Jīvaka did on Ātreya.

Jīvaka journeyed by degrees to Bhadram̃kara, and having arrived in that city, spent the summer there. After learning there the Śāstra, “Language of all Creatures,” he departed from Bhadram̃kara. Seeing a man carrying a load of wood to the city, of whom nothing was left but skin and bone, and the whole of whose body was dropping sweat, he said to him, “O friend, how came you into such a plight?” The man replied, “I know not. But I have got into this state since I began to carry this load.” Jīvaka carefully inspected the wood, and said, “Friend, will you sell this wood?”

“Yes!”

“For how much money?”

“For five hundred Kārshāpaṇas.”

Jīvaka bought the wood, and when he had examined it, he discovered the gem which brings all beings to belief. The virtue of the gem is of this kind: when it is placed before an invalid, it illuminates him as a lamp lights up all the objects in a house, and so reveals the nature of his malady.

When Jīvaka had gradually made his way to the Udumbara land, he found there a man who was measuring with a measure, and who, when he had finished measuring, inflicted a wound upon his head with the measure. When Jīvaka saw this, he asked him why he behaved in that way.

“My head itches greatly.”

“Come here and I will look at it.”

The man lay down and Jīvaka examined his head. Then he laid on the man’s head the gem which brings all beings to belief, and it immediately became manifest that there was a centipede inside. Thereupon Jīvaka said, “O man, there is a centipede inside your head.” The man touched his feet and said, “Cure me.” Jīvaka promised to do so, but he thought, “I will act according to the words of the teacher.” So he said, “O man, dig a pit to-day and have dung in readiness. I will take your case in hand to-morrow.” The man touched his feet and went away. Next day Jīvaka placed the man in the pit, opened the skull with the proper instrument, touched the back of the centipede with the heated pincers, and then, when the centipede drew its arms and feet together, he seized it with the pincers and pulled it out. Thereupon the patient recovered. The man gave Jīvaka five hundred Kārshāpaṇas, which he sent to Ātreya.

After this Jīvaka came to the Rohitaka land. A householder had died there who had possessed a park with beautiful flowers, fruits, and water, and who, as he had been excessively fond of the garden, had been born again there among the demons. When his son became master of the house, he appointed a certain man to watch over the park. The watchman, however, was killed by that demon, as was also a second watchman, after which the son of the deceased householder abandoned the park. Thereupon a dropsical man, whom all the doctors had given up, came to that park and took up his quarters there for the night, thinking that it would not much matter if the demon were to kill him. Now it happened that Jīvaka also spent the night in this park. The demon began to threaten the dropsical man. Then stepped forward the Dropsy and said, “As I have already taken possession of this man, wherefore do you threaten him? Is there no one here who will fumigate you with the smoke of goats’ hair? That would make you fly twelve yojanas away?” The demon replied, “Is there no one here to give you radish-seed pounded and beaten up in butter? Thereby would you be broken to pieces.” Jīvaka heard all this, and next morning he visited the householder, and asked him why he had abandoned the park which was so rich in flowers, fruits, and water. The householder told him all that had occurred. Then said Jīvaka, “O householder, fumigate the park with the smoke of goats’ hair. Then will the demon fly twelve yojanas away.” The householder did so, and the demon flew twelve yojanas away. This householder also gave five hundred Kārshāpaṇas to Jīvaka, who sent them as before to Ātreya.

Afterwards Jīvaka asked the dropsical man why he abode in the demon-haunted park. The man told him everything that had occurred. Jīvaka said to him, “Swallow radish-seed pounded and beaten up in butter, and you will recover.” The man took the remedy and recovered his health. This man also gave five hundred Kārshāpaṇas to Jīvaka, who, as before, sent them to Ātreya.

Jīvaka gradually made his way to Mathurā, where he rested under a tree outside the city. Now it had come to pass there that a wrestler was smitten by an antagonist, and his bowels were displaced, so that he died and was carried out to be buried. A vulture and her little ones had their nest on a tree, and one young vulture said, “Mother, give us flesh.” She replied, “Children, where is flesh to be found?” The young birds said, “Mother, as that Malla who was smitten in wrestling is dead and has been carried out, flesh is to be found there where he is.”

“O children, the king of doctors, Jīvaka, has come here, and will set him to rights again.”

“Mother, in what manner will he set him to rights?”

“By applying a certain powder to his bowels.”

Jīvaka overheard all this. So he arose and went to where the corpse was, and inquired, saying, “Honoured sirs, whom have ye here?”

“A man who died after being struck down while wrestling,” was the reply.

“Lay him down that I may look at him,” said Jīvaka.

The dead man was laid down, and Jīvaka placed on his head the gem which brings all beings to belief. Perceiving that the man’s entrails had been displaced, he blew some powder into the body through a hollow reed, and as soon as the powder had reached the entrails the man recovered. This man also gave five hundred Kārshāpaṇas to Jīvaka, who, as before, sent them to Ātreya.

Now there was in Mathurā a householder who had a wife of consummate youth and beauty, whom he loved exceedingly. After his death he was born again as a reptile in the lower part of his wife’s body.... When she heard that the physician Jīvaka had arrived, she went to see him, and said that she was ill, and that he must treat her.... He ordered her to lay aside her garments, and then he expelled the worm in the way in which, as will presently be described, he got rid of the centipede which had crept into a man’s ear. Whereupon the patient recovered. As her desires were enhanced by passion, she made overtures to him, but he shut his ears and said, “You seem to me like a Rākshasī. I who have cured you am contented with having done so.” She also gave him five hundred Kārshāpaṇas, which likewise he sent to Ātreya.

After this Jīvaka went on by degrees and reached the shore of the river Yamunā. There he saw a corpse which, when the fish twitched the sinews of its heels, opened its eyes and smiled. Observing all this, he became aware of the connection which exists between the sinews and the rest of the body.

Having gradually made his way to Vaiśālī, he found there a wrestler the ball of whose eye protruded in consequence of a blow from a fist. Jīvaka paid him a visit, pulled the sinews of his heel, and restored the eye to its right place. This man also gave him five hundred Kārshāpaṇas, which he gave to Abhaya’s mother.

At Vaiśālī there lived a man into whose ear a centipede had crept, and had therein given birth to seven hundred young ones. Tormented by his pains in the ear, this man went to Jīvaka and intreated him to cure him. Jīvaka said to himself, “Hitherto I have acted in accordance with my teacher’s instructions, but now I will act according to my own intelligence.” He said to the man, “Go and make a hut out of foliage, carpet it with blue stuff, place a drum underneath, and make the ground warm.” The man provided everything as he was told. Then Jīvaka made the man lie down, sprinkled the ground with water, and beat the drum. Thereupon the centipede, thinking that the summer was come, crept out. Then Jīvaka placed a piece of meat on the ear. The reptile turned back, but presently came out again with its young ones, and they all laid hold of the piece of meat. Whereupon Jīvaka flung it into the flesh-pot, and the man recovered his health. He gave Jīvaka five hundred Kārshāpaṇas, and Jīvaka gave them to Abhaya’s mother.

After a time Jīvaka came to Rājagṛha, and King Bimbisāra, hearing of his arrival, ordered Prince Ajātaśatru to go out to meet his elder brother. The prince set out on the way. But when Jīvaka heard that Prince Ajātaśatru was coming to meet him, he reflected that if he consented to this reception, Ajātaśatru, when he became king, might do him some harm. So he turned back, and entered the city by another gate.

On another occasion, when Jīvaka was strolling along surrounded by a great crowd, a Brahman who was afflicted with an eye disease accosted him, and begged him to prescribe a remedy. He replied angrily, “Sprinkle the eye with ashes.” The man, who was of a simple nature, did as he was told, and he became well.

Another man, also afflicted with an eye disease, was on his way to visit Jīvaka, when the Brahman saw him and asked him where he was going. When the man had told him, the Brahman said, “What need have you of Jīvaka? Do what he told me to do.” The man gave heed to the words of the Brahman, sprinkled his eye with ashes, and became blind.

At another time, a tumour formed on the crown of King Bimbisāra’s head. He ordered his ministers to summon the physicians. The ministers did so, and the king told the physicians to treat the tumour. They said, “O king, as the great physician Jīvaka is here, why should we deal with it?” So the king ordered Jīvaka to be summoned. When he had been introduced, the king asked him to undertake the case. He consented to do so, on the condition that he should be allowed to give the king his bath. Then he anointed the tumour with myrobalan and with ripening substances, and he poured over it five hundred jugs of water in which such substances had been infused. When it was ripe he secretly touched it with a razor and squeezed it out. Then he applied healing remedies, and poured over it five hundred jugs of water in which such substances had been infused. Whereupon the wound healed so completely that the skin and the hair were perfectly even. When the king’s bath was finished, he said that Jīvaka was now to begin the operation. Jīvaka replied, “O king, be pleased to partake of food.” When the king had eaten, he again called upon Jīvaka to proceed. “O king,” said Jīvaka, “the operation has been performed.” The king would not believe this, but when he felt with his hand, he could not find the place where the hurt had been. Moreover, when he took a mirror and looked in it, he could see nothing. He asked his wife, but neither could she find the place where the hurt had been. The king was greatly astonished, and he said to his ministers, “Honoured sirs, appoint Jīvaka king of the physicians.” But the man who had become blind said, “O king, is it from love towards your son or on account of his knowledge of things that you give him this appointment?” The king replied, “On account of his knowledge of things.” The blind man said, “However this may be, he has not cured me.” Jīvaka said, “O man, I have never seen you before; how, then, could I have cured you?” The blind man replied, “That is true; but he to whom you did prescribe a remedy taught me what to do.”

“What did he teach you to do?”

“Such and such things.”

“Your nature and that man’s nature are different,” said Jīvaka. “Now do this and that, and you will be made whole.”

The man acted accordingly and was made whole. Then he said, “O king, be pleased to let Jīvaka be appointed king of the physicians.” So Jīvaka was seated upon an elephant, and with great pomp was installed king of the physicians.

There lived in Rājagṛha a householder who suffered from a swelling of the glands, [97] and had been given up by all the physicians. He resolved to go to Jīvaka. If he could be cured by him, well and good; if not, then he was ready to die. He came to Jīvaka, and entreated him to cure him. Jīvaka said that the remedies which his case required were hard to find. Thus the man thought, “As even Jīvaka has given me up, what is there for me to do? As my time has come, I will die of my own accord.” So he went away to the cemetery. Now a corpse was being burnt there, and an ichneumon and a lizard, which were fighting with one another, fell into the fire. Being tormented by hunger, he devoured them both. Then he drank some rain-water which he found in the cemetery, and afterwards he betook himself to a cattle-shed in the neighbourhood of the cemetery, where he fed upon kodrava [98] porridge and sour milk mixed with butter. Thereupon the tumour gave way, and he, after it had discharged upwards and downwards, was restored to health.

At another time Vaidehī suffered from a tumour in the groin. She communicated the fact to the king, who ordered Jīvaka to cure his stepmother. Jīvaka undertook the case, prepared a poultice, and asked her to sit down upon it. After examining the poultice on which she had sat, he perceived where the diseased spot was. Then he applied maturing means, and when he saw that the tumour was ripe, he concealed a lancet in the poultice, and gave directions to the queen-mother as to how she was to sit down upon it and rise up again. She acted accordingly, and the tumour gave way as soon as it was pricked by the lancet. He then caused it to be washed with bitter water mixed with healing substances, and applied healing substances to it, after which she became well.

Jīvaka went to the king, who asked him if he had healed his stepmother. He replied that he had done so.

“But you have not looked upon her without her clothing?”

“No!”

“How then did you manage?”

When Jīvaka had described what he had contrived, the king marvelled greatly, and gave orders to the ministers to install Jīvaka a second time as king of the physicians.

But the man with the swelling of the glands, to whom Jīvaka had said that it would be difficult to find a remedy for his ailment, asked the king whether he had ordered Jīvaka to be installed as king of the physicians out of love for his son or on account of that son’s knowledge of things. The king replied, “On account of his knowledge.”

“However this may be, he has not cured me.”

“O man,” said Jīvaka, “I did not undertake your case. I merely said that it would be difficult to find you a remedy.”

“What is the remedy in my case?” asked the man.