Part 31

“Honoured sirs, last night I dreamed an evil dream, in consequence whereof we will leave this place.”

The monkeys said, “Let us do so and set forth.”

As Bodisats have dreams which are full of significance, the august being said to the chief of the other band of monkeys, “As I have dreamed such a dream, it is to be hoped that you will move somewhere else.”

The other chief answered incredulously, “Do dreams then turn out true? If you want to go, in that case go. But as I possess a widely extended domain, I shall not go.”

When the first monkey-chief saw that the other did not believe in him, he himself, together with his band, went away.

One day after this, as a servant-maid was roasting barley on the earth in one of the houses of the hill-town, a wandering sheep came by bad luck that way, and began to eat the grain. The maid struck the sheep with a fire-brand, and the sheep ran blazing into the king’s elephant stable. From its flames the elephant stable caught fire, and many elephants were scorched. The king sent for the doctor, and asked how the elephants which had been scorched by the fire ought to be treated. The doctor prescribed monkeys cooked in barley-meal. Accordingly orders were given to the hunters, who caught all the monkeys residing in the neighbourhood. These monkeys, whose flesh had increased in the course of time, the doctor threw into the caldron alive.

A deity uttered this verse: “It is not good to dwell in a town or a village in which discord exists. On account of discord between the sheep and the servant-maid, the monkeys perished.”

XLIV.

THE WISE AND THE FOOLISH MONKEY CHIEFS. [187]

In long-past times there lived in a certain country two monkey chiefs, each ruling over a band of five hundred monkeys. As one of them wandered about with his band he gradually came to a hill-village. A kimpāka tree grew there, the branches of which were bowed down to the ground by the fruit, so the monkeys said to the chief of their band: “O chief, as the tree is very rich in fruit, and the fruit weighs its branches down to the ground, let us after our fatigues enjoy the fruit.”

After looking at the tree, the chief of the band said in a verse: “Although the tree stands near the village, yet have the children not partaken of the fruit. From that it may be concluded that the fruit of this tree is not conducive to enjoyment.”

After he had thus spoken, they went away.

Following after him, the leader of the other band also gradually drew near to that village. And when the monkeys saw the kimpāka tree, they said to the leader of their band: “O leader, as there is fruit on this tree, and we are fatigued, we would like to enjoy the fruit and gain strength.”

He replied, “Good; do so.”

The monkeys partook of the fruit, and unfortunately suffered agonies in consequence.

XLV.

THE MONKEYS AND THE MOON. [188]

In long-past times there lived a band of monkeys in a forest. As they rambled about they saw the reflection of the moon in a well, and the leader of the band said: “O friends, the moon has fallen into the well. The world is now without a moon. Ought not we to draw it out?”

The monkeys said, “Good; we will draw it out.”

So they began to hold counsel as to how they were to draw it out. Some of them said, “Do not you know? The monkeys must form a chain, and so draw the moon out.”

So they formed a chain, the first monkey hanging on to the branch of a tree, and the second to the first monkey’s tail, and a third one in its turn to the tail of the second one. When in this way they were all hanging on to one another, the branch began to bend a good deal. The water became troubled, the reflection of the moon disappeared, the branch broke, and all the monkeys fell into the well and were disagreeably damaged.

A deity uttered this verse: “When the foolish have a foolish leader, they all go to ruin, like the monkeys which wanted to draw the moon up from the well.”

XLVI.

THE PEACOCK AS BRIDEGROOM. [189]

In long-past times lived the flamingo-king, Rāshṭrapāla. The birds which dwelt in the different countries, having heard that his daughter was going to choose herself a husband, assembled themselves together, each hoping that he would be her spouse.

When she had looked at the peacock, she said, “He shall be my husband.”

Thereupon the other birds told him that she had chosen him as her spouse. He expanded his tail and began to dance.

Rāshṭrapāla saw him, and asked, “Why does he dance?”

The others replied, “It is because he is to be your daughter’s husband.”

He said, “To him I will not give my daughter, for he is shameless and bold.”

When the peacock heard of this, he went to Rāshṭrapāla and asked in a śloka: “Wherefore dost thou refuse to give me thy daughter, although I have a lovely voice, a beautiful colour, wings set with eyes, and a neck like unto lapis lazuli?”

Rāshṭrapāla replied, “Although thou hast a lovely voice, a beautiful colour, wings set with eyes, and a neck like unto lapis lazuli, yet I will not give her to thee, for thou art afflicted with impudence.”

XLVII.

THE CROW WITH THE GOLDEN CAP. [190]

It happened long ago, that a crow uttered agreeable sounds in the presence of a woman, whose husband had undertaken a long journey.

The woman said, “Ho there, O crow! if my husband returns home safe and sound, I will give you a golden cap.”

After a time her husband returned home safe and sound, when the crow appeared before her with an eye to the golden cap, and uttered agreeable sounds. She gave it a golden cap.

The crow put it on, and fled hither and thither.

But on account of the golden cap a falcon tore off the crow’s head.

A deity uttered this verse: “A possession, which has no necessary cause, will be taken away. The gold on the crow’s head was looked after by a robber.”

XLVIII.

THE REVENGEFUL CROW. [191]

In long-past times the men of Rājagṛiha and their king determined, on account of some occurrence or other, to establish two cemeteries, and to bury men in one of them and women in the other. It happened once that a hermaphrodite died and could find room neither in the one cemetery nor in the other. In a certain locality in Rājagṛiha there was a park full of roots, fruits, splendid flowers, and various singing-birds. There a Rishi dwelt with shaven head, who fed upon roots, fruits, and water, and was clothed in a hide and the bark of trees. A ricinus shrub grew there in a three-cornered field, and there the body of the hermaphrodite was left. Perceiving the smell of the body, a jackal came and began to devour its flesh. Now a crow had built her nest on the top of the ricinus tree, and was nestling in it. It occurred to her to flatter the jackal, in order that he might give her the remains of the feast, so she began to sing his praises in a verse: “As I testify my reverence for thee, who art provided with the neck of a lion and the back of a bull, so deign to be gracious to me for the benefit of the asker.”

The jackal looked up and said, likewise in verse: “O most excellent of birds, wanderer through the air, lighter-up of all places, now like unto a gem dwelling upon the summit of a splendid tree.”

The crow continued, “As I have descended in order to look upon one so highly blest, and as I pay honour to thee as the king of the beasts, deign to be gracious in behalf of the asker.”

The jackal said, “O crow, whose neck is like unto the neck of the peacock; O most excellent of pleasure-bringers, fair to see, descend in order to feed at will.”

The crow flew down, and, in the company of the jackal, began to devour the dead body.

When the Rishi saw that, he said in a verse: “Alas! from afar off have I seen thee, shamelessly nestling in the shadow of the most wretched of trees, and devouring the most wretched of corpses.”

When the crow heard that, she indignantly uttered this verse: “What is it to this baldpate that the lion and the peacock, feeding here upon excellent flesh, prolong their existence by means of strangers’ gifts?”

The Rishi was affronted in his turn and uttered this verse: “See here the union of the shameless. The most wretched of birds is the crow, the most wretched of beasts is the jackal, the most wretched of trees is the ricinus tree, the most wretched of men is the hermaphrodite, the most wretched of fields is the three-cornered one.”

Then an exceedingly great anger sprang up within the mind of the crow, and she betook herself to the Rishi’s kitchen, and began to look about her. Seeing nothing there, she broke the pots and pitchers, and then flew away. When the Rishi came into his kitchen, and found the pots and pitchers broken, he knew that it was none but the bad crow who had done that, and he said in a verse: “To her who, without being told, has with shameless malice broken the things in the kitchen, shall in future, whether for praise or for blame, not even the smallest word be spoken. The wise ever obtain repose only by means of this, that they keep silence.”

XLIX.

THE UNITED PHEASANTS. [192]

In long-past time there lived on the sea-coast two pheasants, named Dharmika and Adharmika, whose bodies were united in their growth. Once while Adharmika was asleep, Dharmika kept awake, and saw an amṛita fruit driven ashore by the waters. He took it out and considered whether he should wake the other or eat the fruit by himself. Reflecting that if he ate it, the body they shared in common would be nourished thereby, he did not wake the other.

When the other awoke of his own accord, and perceived that Dharmika’s breath smelt of amṛita fruit, he said, “What is it your breath smells of?”

“Amṛita fruit,” replied Dharmika.

“Where did you get it?” asked Adharmika.

Dharmika replied, “I found an amṛita fruit while you were asleep, and I ate it without waking you, because I considered that our common body would be nourished thereby.”

Adharmika said, “As you have not acted rightly therein, I also will bide my time.”

On another occasion, when Dharmika had gone to sleep and Adharmika was awake, the latter perceived a poisonous fruit which the waves had brought ashore. He ate it, and both of the birds became insensible. Affected by the poisonous fruit, Adharmika said, “Wherever I may be born again, there may I be thy antagonist, O enemy and slayer!”

Dharmika said, “Wherever I may be born again, may I show you kindness!” [193]

L.

THREE TALES ABOUT ARTISTS. [194]

1. THE IVORY CARVER AND THE PAINTER. [195]

There lived an ivory carver in Madhyadeśa who, after he had carved a few grains of rice made of ivory, travelled with them to the Yavana land, and there took up his abode in the house of a painter. In the absence of the husband, he said to the wife, “Wife of my friend, cook this rice and serve it up to me.”

The woman began to cook the rice, but her store of wood came to an end, and yet the rice remained uncooked. When the painter came home, he asked, “Good wife, what is the meaning of that?”

She told him the whole story. The man looked at the rice, perceived that the separate grains were carved out of ivory, and said to his wife, while setting her right:

“Good wife, the water is salt. He must bring us fresh water; the rice will then get cooked.”

The wife said to the ivory carver, “Fetch us fresh water.” Now the painter had painted a picture of a pond hard by, with a dead dog’s body beside it. The ivory carver took a water jug, and went towards the place where he imagined there was a pond. When he saw the dead dog he held his nose, and then he tried to get the water. But he only smashed his jug, and came to the conclusion that he had been fooled.

2. THE MECHANICIAN AND THE PAINTER. [196]

In olden times there was a painter in Madhyadeśa, who travelled on business to the Yavana land, and took up his abode there in the house of a mechanician. In order to wait upon the wearied traveller, the mechanician sent an artificial maiden whom he had framed. [197] She washed his feet, and then stood still. He called to her to draw near. But she made no reply. As he was of the opinion that the mechanic had no doubt sent her to him for his enjoyment, he seized her by the hand and tried to draw her towards him. Thereupon, however, the artificial maiden collapsed, and turned into a heap of chips. Being thus befooled, he said to himself, “I have been made a fool of here in private. But in return I will make a fool of the mechanician in the midst of the king’s retinue.”

So he painted his own likeness on the door, just as if he had hanged himself, and then he hid behind the door. When the time had gone by at which he was wont to rise, the mechanician came to see why the painter had not made his appearance, and imagined he saw him hanging there. While he was considering what could be the painter’s reason for depriving himself of life, he saw that the artificial maiden had collapsed and turned into a heap of chips. Thereupon he fancied that the painter had hanged himself out of vexation at having been made a fool of.

Now it was the custom in the Yavana land, that whenever any one died suddenly in any house, the funeral could not take place until information thereof had been given to the king. So the mechanician went to the king and told him that a painter from Madhyadeśa had put up at his house, and that he had sent an artificial maiden to wait upon him, and that the painter had seized her by the hand and tried to draw her towards him, whereupon she had turned into a heap of chips; and that the painter, out of vexation at being made a fool of, had hanged himself. And he besought the king to have the corpse inspected, in order that he might be able to bury it.

The king ordered his officials to undertake the inspection. When the officials reached the spot, and began to consider how they should get the hanged man down, some of them recommended that the rope should be cut, and accordingly an axe was fetched. But when they were about to cut the rope, they perceived that what was before them was only a door, and that the mechanician had been made a fool of. Then the painter came forth from his hiding-place and said, “O inmate of this house, you made a fool of me in private. But I have made a fool of you in the midst of the royal retinue.”

3. THE COMPETITION BETWEEN THE TWO ARTISTS. [198]

In olden times a dispute arose between two painters in a hill-place, each of the two affirming that he was superior in art to the other. They went before the king, and fell at his feet. Then each of them explained how he was a better artist than the other. As the king could not settle their dispute, he pointed to the entrance hall, and ordered each of them to paint one of its walls. When their work was finished, he would be in a position to decide which of them was the better artist.

They set to work, divided from one another by a curtain. One of them painted a picture, and completed it in six months. But the other in six months covered the surface of his wall with mosaic work. Having finished his picture, the first artist came before the king and said, “O king, my picture is finished, may it please you to set eyes upon it.”

When the king, attended by his ministers, had passed through the doorway and gazed upon the picture, he was well pleased and said, “The painting is excellent.” Then the other artist fell at his feet and said, “Now vouchsafe to look at my picture.” When he had drawn the curtain aside, and the king saw several figures standing well out, he marvelled greatly and said, “Of the two paintings this is the most excellent.” Then the artist drew the curtain once more in front of his work, and fell at the king’s feet and said, “O king, this is no painting. I have decorated the wall in mosaic.”

Thereupon the king’s astonishment waxed still greater, and he said, “This is the one who is the best artist.”

NOTES

[1] “Buddhism,” by T. W. Rhys Davids (Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge), pp. 199–211 and 250.

[2] “Lectures on the Origin and Growth of Religion, as Illustrated by some Points in the History of Indian Buddhism” (being the Hibbert Lectures for 1881), pp. 189–192.

[3] Whose statements are based upon those made by C. F. Köppen, in his standard work upon “Die lamaische Hierarchie und Kirche.”

[4] “Geschichte der Ost-Mongolen: Aus dem Mongolischen übersetzt von Isaac Jacob Schmidt,” pp. 25–27. St. Petersburg, 1829.

[5] According to Schlagintweit, “‘Constructed Vessel,’ a work on moral subjects forming part of the Kanjur.”

[6] Emil Schlagintweit, “Buddhism in Tibet,” pp. 60–70.

[7] “Buddhism,” p. 207.

[8] In a letter to the writer of the Introduction.

[9] In Hungarian his name would be written Körösi Csoma Sándor; in French, Alexandre Csoma de Körös; in English, he signed himself Alexander Csoma Körösi, the name Körösi being an adjectival form, meaning “of Körös.”

[10] The exact date of his birth has not been ascertained, but one of his Hungarian biographers states that he was about thirty when he started eastward in 1820. Another asserts that he was born in the Transylvanian village of Körös, on the 4th of April 1784.

[11] In a letter, containing a brief sketch of his life up to that time, which was published in 1834 in the first volume of the “Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society,” and from which are taken the passages cited above as quotations.

[12] Journal of the Asiatic Society of Bengal, vol. xiv., part 2, p. 824.

[13] Quoted by Dr. Campbell from an editorial article by Professor H. H. Wilson in the supplement to the Government Gazette of 9th July 1829. Journal of Asiatic Society of Bengal, vol. xi., part 1, p. 305. A second article by Dr. Campbell, including a letter from Lieut.-Colonel Lloyd, was published in vol. xiv., part 2, pp. 823–827.

[14] In an interesting article on Tibet in the Revue des Deux Mondes, vme série, tom. 19 (July 1847).

[15] “The work of Csoma de Körös is that of an original investigator, and the fruit of almost unparalleled determination and patience,” says H. A. Jäschke, in the preface to his “Tibetan-English Dictionary.”

[16] Colonel Lloyd says that he thinks Csoma Körösi remained at Titalya till November 1837. Journal of the Asiatic Society of Bengal, vol. xiv., part 2.

[17] Dr. Malan is not certain about the date of his first interview with Csoma Körösi, but his Tibetan lessons began not later than August 1838.

[18] For this piece of information I am indebted to Lieut.-Col. T. W. Lewin, who has himself been our Resident at Darjíling, and who availed himself of his stay in Sikkim to study the Tibetan language, of which he has published a Manual.

[19] “Chips from a German Workshop,” i. 278.

[20] “Die Ungarische Sprachwissenschaft,” Literarische Berichte aus Ungarn. Budapest, 1877. Bd. i., heft i., pp. 54–97. For this and other references to Hungarian works and German works published in Hungary, I am indebted to Mr. E. D. Butler, of the British Museum, whose acquaintance with Hungarian literature has led to his being elected an honorary member of the Hungarian Academy of Sciences.

[21] See, however, an account of Tibetan non-Buddhistic works in Journal of A. S. of B. 1881.

[22] “Chips,” i. 193.

[23] M. Léon Feer has adopted the form Kandjour in his translation of Csoma Körösis’s “Analysis” (Annales du Musée Guimet, tom. 2); but he says in a footnote to p. 143, “J’écris Kandjour contrairement à mes principes d’orthographe, parce que Kandjour est une forme qui imite la prononciation et n’est point du tout le calque du mot tibétain.”

[24] Written bkah-hgyur, the italicised letters not being sounded.

[25] Csoma Körösi’s analysis of the Tibetan sacred books has been translated by M. Léon Feer, and was published in 1881 under the title of “Analyse du Kandjour et du Tandjour,” in the second volume of the “Annales du Musée Guimet,” the sumptuous work due to the munificence of M. Guimet. M. Feer has appended to his translation a most useful “Vocabulaire de l’Analyse du Kandjour,” giving all the names which occur in Csoma Körösi’s Analysis, with the explanations it contains, together with an index and a “Table Alphabétique des Ouvrages du Kandjour,” and several appendixes. The fourth volume of the “Annales du Musée Guimet” is to consist of “Extraits du Kandjour,” translated by M. Léon Feer.

[26] In a very interesting paper printed in the “Bulletin Historico-Philologique de l’Académie de Saint-Pétersbourg,” tom. iv., 1848, pp. 321–339.

[27] In an account of the works, in the languages of Eastern Asia, belonging to the library of the University of St. Petersburg, printed in the “Mélanges Asiatiques” of the St. Petersburg Academy of Sciences, tom. ii., 1856.

[28] A complete list of Professor Schiefner’s writings is given in a memoir by F. Wiedemann, read at a meeting of the Imperial Academy of Sciences, December 11, 1879, and reprinted in the 16th volume of the “Russische Revue.” From this it appears that he was born at Reval in 1817, the son of a merchant who had migrated thither from Bohemia; he studied in the University of St. Petersburg from 1836 to 1840, and then for two years in the University of Berlin. In 1848 he was appointed one of the librarians of the Imperial Academy of Sciences, of which he became a member a few years later.