經律異相 31.21.1

31.21.1

昔維耶離國。 王苑中生一奈樹。 枝葉繁茂加有光色香美非凡。 王極寶愛。 自非宮中尊貴不得啖之。 時有梵志。 居家饒富一國無雙聰明博達才智出群。 王用為大臣。 請食設畢以一㮈實與之。 梵志見㮈香美非凡乃問曰。 此奈樹下寧有小栽可得乞不。 王曰。 卿若欲得一栽相與。 梵志種之。 朝夕灌溉枝條茂好三年生實。 光彩大小如王家許。 梵志大喜自念。 我資財無數不減於王。 唯無此㮈今既得之即無所減。 便取食之而大苦澁。 乃退思惟。 當是土無肥耳。 仍捉取乳以飲一牛次第至百煎為醍醐。 日日灌之却至明年。 實乃甘美。 而樹邊生一瘤節。 大如手捲。 日月增長恐妨其實。 適欲斫去。 復恐傷樹。 遲迴未決。 節生一枝。 洪直調好高出樹顛。 去地七丈。 杪生諸枝形如偃蓋。 華葉茂好勝於樹本。 即作棧閣登而視之。 見偃蓋之中乃有池水。 既清且香眾華鮮明。 披視華下。 有一女兒在池水中。 梵志抱取歸家長養。 名曰㮈女。 至年十五顏色端正天下無雙聲聞遠國。 有七國王。 同時俱來詣梵志所求娉㮈女以為夫人。 梵志不知與誰。 於其園中架一高樓以㮈女置上。 謂諸王曰。 此女非我所生。 自出於奈樹之上。 今七王俱求。 我設與一六當見怒。 不敢愛惜。 女今在園中樓上。 諸王但自評議。 應得者取非我所制。 七王共爭紛紜未決。 其夜洴沙王從伏瀆入登樓就宿。 明晨當去。 奈女曰。 大王幸抂威尊接逮。 若其有子則是王種當何所付。 王曰。 是男還我是女還汝。 王即脫手金鐶之印以付奈女曰。 以是為信。 出語群臣。 我已得奈女與共一宿。 洴沙軍人皆稱萬歲曰。 我王已得奈女。 六王聞之便各還去。 奈女生男兒。 初生時手中把持針藥囊。 梵志曰。 此國王之子而執持醫器必醫王也。 名曰祇域（涅槃等諸經皆云耆婆請磐特比丘經云耆域）至年八歲。 聰明學問書疏越倫。 與隣比小兒遊戲心常輕諸小兒。 諸兒罵曰。 無父之子婬女所生何敢輕我。 祇域愕然默而不答。 便歸問母曰。 我視諸子皆不如我。 而反罵我言無父之子。 我父今者為在何許。 母曰。 汝父者是洴沙王。 祇域曰。 洴沙王乃在羅悅祇國。 去此五百里。 何緣生我。 即持此環往羅悅祇國。 徑入宮門即到王前。 為王作禮長跪白曰。 我是王子奈女所生。 今年八歲始知是大王種。 故奉指鐶印信遠來歸家。 王見印文。 憶昔有誓知是其子。 愴然憐之以為太子。 涉歷二年會阿闍世王生。 祇域因白王曰。 我初生時手把針藥囊。 應當為醫王。 雖以我為太子非我所樂。 王適子生矣。 應襲尊嗣。 我願得行學醫術。 王即聽之。 勅國上醫術盡教之。 而祇域嬉戲未嘗受學。 諸師責謂之曰。 醫術鄙陋誠非太子至尊所學。 然大王之命不可違廢。 受勅以來積有日月。 而太子初不受半言。 若王問我。 我何以對。 祇域曰。 我生而有醫證在手。 故白大王捐棄榮豪求學醫術豈復懈怠。 直以諸師之道無足學者故耳。 便取本草藥方針脈諸經具難問師。 師無能答。 反為作禮曰太子神聖非我所及。 歷世疑義請太子說。 便說其義。 諸醫歡喜作禮奉行。 祇域便就救療。 所治輒愈遠國知名。 還於宮門逢擔𦿕小兒望見五藏縷悉分明。 祇域心念。 本草經說。 有藥王樹從外照內。 此兒𦿕中有藥王樹。 即問曰。 賣堪幾錢。 兒曰十錢。 依雇十錢。 兒下𦿕置地。 則闇不復見其腹中。 祇域思惟。 不知束中何者是藥王木。 便解兩束一一聚之以著兒腹上。 無所照見如是盡兩束𦿕。 最後小枝照見腹內。 祇域大喜。 知此小枝定是藥王。 悉還兒𦿕。 兒歡喜去。 時國中迦羅越家女年十五。 臨當嫁日忽頭痛而死。 祇域聞之往至其家問。 女常有何病乃致夭死。 父曰。

In the past, in the kingdom of Vaiśālī, an āmra tree grew in the royal park. Its branches and leaves were lush and luxuriant; moreover, it was bright and colourful, and its fragrant sweetness was extraordinary. The king prized and treasured it exceedingly. Unless one were of high noble status in the palace, one could not eat of it. At that time, there was a brahmacārin whose household was abundantly wealthy, unmatched throughout the kingdom, and who was intelligent, erudite, and of extraordinary talent and wisdom. The king employed him as a senior minister. After inviting him to a feast and setting it out, he gave him one āmra fruit. Seeing that the āmra was fragrant and sweet beyond compare, the brahmacārin then asked: “Could a small cutting beneath this āmra tree perhaps be begged [from you]?” The king said: “If you, sir, wish to have one, I will give you a cutting.” The brahmacārin planted it. He watered it morning and evening, its boughs and branches became lush and fine, and after three years it bore fruit. Its lustre, colour, and size were just like those of the royal household’s. The brahmacārin was overjoyed and thought to himself: “My wealth and property are immeasurable, not inferior to the king's; only this āmra was lacking. Now that I have obtained it, I am inferior in nothing.” Thereupon he took one and ate it, but it was exceedingly bitter and astringent. He then withdrew and reflected: “This must simply be because the soil lacks richness.” Thereupon he took milk and gave it to one cow to drink, proceeding in order up to one hundred cows, and boiled it into ghee. He poured it over [the roots] day after day until the following year, whereupon the fruit indeed became sweet and delicious. However, on the side of the tree there grew a knot-like burl as large as a fist. As days and months passed it grew larger, and fearing it would hinder the fruit, he was just about to chop it away, but then feared it would harm the tree. While he was hesitating and undecided, a branch grew from the burl, straight, well-proportioned, and fine, rising high above the tree's crown, seven zhang from the ground. At the tip, branches grew in the shape of an upturned parasol, with flowers and leaves more luxuriant and fine than those of the original tree. He immediately built a scaffold and climbed up to look at it, and saw that within the upturned parasol there was actually a pool of water, both clear and fragrant, with many bright, fresh flowers. Parting the flowers to look beneath them, there was a baby girl in the pool of water. The brahmacārin took her in his arms, returned home, and raised her, naming her the Āmrapālī Maiden. When she reached the age of fifteen, her appearance was upright and beautiful, unmatched under heaven, and her renown was heard in distant realms. Seven kings came together at the same time to the brahmacārin's dwelling, seeking to marry the Āmrapālī Maiden and make her their queen. The brahmacārin did not know to whom he should give her. In his garden he erected a high tower and placed the Āmrapālī Maiden upon it. He said to the kings: “This maiden was not born of me, but naturally emerged from atop the āmra tree. Now, seven kings seek her together; if I were to give her to one, the six would surely be angered. I do not dare to begrudge her to you. The maiden is now on the tower in the garden; you kings need only deliberate among yourselves, and whoever should obtain her may take her; it is not for me to determine.” The seven kings contended together in turmoil without reaching a resolution. That night, King Bimbisāra entered through a hidden water-channel, mounted the tower, and spent the night with her. When he was about to leave the next morning, the Āmrapālī Maiden said: “The Great King has deigned to lower his august majesty to consort with me. If there should be a child, it will be the king's offspring; to whom shall it be entrusted?” The king said: “If it is a boy, return him to me; if it is a girl, return her to you.” The king then took the gold signet ring from his hand and entrusted it to the Āmrapālī Maiden, saying: “Take this as a token of trust.” He went out and told his ministers: “I have already won the Āmrapālī Maiden and spent a night together with her.” The soldiers of Bimbisāra all hailed “Ten thousand years!”, saying: “Our king has already won the Āmrapālī Maiden.” When the six kings heard this, they each returned home. The Āmrapālī Maiden gave birth to a baby boy. When he was first born, he held in his hands a bag of acupuncture needles and medicines. The brahmacārin said: “This is the son of a king, yet he holds medical implements; he must be a king of physicians.” He was named Jīvaka. (Sūtras such as the Nirvāṇa Sūtra all call him Jīvaka; the Sutra on Requesting the Monk Panthaka calls him Jīvaka.) When he reached eight years of age, he was clever, and his learning and scriptural studies surpassed those of his peers. When he played with the neighbouring children, his mind was often contemptuous of them. The children scolded him, saying: “Son of no father, born of a wanton woman, how dare you slight us?” Jīvaka was taken aback, fell silent, and did not reply. He then returned and asked his mother, saying: “I look upon all the boys as not equal to me, yet on the contrary they scold me, saying I am a son without a father. Where is my father now?” His mother said: “Your father is King Bimbisāra.” Jīvaka said: “King Bimbisāra is in Rājagṛha, five hundred li from here. By what cause did he father me?” She then held up this ring to him. He went to Rājagṛha, went straight into the palace gate, and came before the king. He paid homage to the king, knelt upright, and said: “I am the prince born of the Āmrapālī Maiden. Only now, at eight years of age, do I know that I am the Great King’s offspring. Therefore, reverently bearing the signet ring as a token of trust, I have come from afar to return to my home.” When the king saw the mark of the seal, he recalled his former oath and knew that he was his son. Moved with sorrow and affection, he made him the crown prince. Two years passed, and it happened that King Ajātaśatru was born. Jīvaka thereupon addressed the king, saying: “When I was first born, I held in my hand a bag of needles and medicines; I ought to be a king of physicians. Although you have made me crown prince, it is not what I desire. The king’s legitimate son has now been born; he should inherit the noble succession. I wish to go and study the art of medicine.” The king immediately granted his request and ordered the state’s foremost masters of medicine to teach him everything. However, Jīvaka only played around and never received their instruction. The masters reprimanded him, saying: “The art of medicine is lowly and vulgar, and truly not what the supreme majesty of a prince should study. Yet the Great King’s command cannot be disobeyed or set aside. Since receiving the royal order, days and months have accumulated, yet you, Prince, have not initially received even half a word. If the king asks us, how shall we answer?” Jīvaka said: “I was born with the proof of medicine in my hand; therefore I addressed the Great King, renouncing honour and wealth to seek the study of medicine. How could I be negligent? It is simply because the traditions of the masters contain nothing worthy of study.” Thereupon he took up the materia medica, acupuncture formulas, pulse diagnosis, and various classics, and thoroughly questioned and challenged the masters. The masters could not answer. Instead, they bowed to him and said: “The Prince is divine and sagely, beyond our reach. We beg the Prince to explain the doubtful meanings handed down through generations.” He then explained the meanings, and the physicians rejoiced, bowed, and put them into practice. Jīvaka then went about delivering and curing people, and whatever he treated was immediately healed, so that his fame spread to distant kingdoms. Returning to the palace gate, he met a boy carrying firewood and could see his five viscera clearly and in minute detail. Jīvaka thought to himself: “The Classic of Materia Medica says that there is a tree of the King of Medicines that illuminates the internal organs from the outside. In this boy's firewood there must be a tree of the King of Medicines.” He immediately asked: “How much can this be sold for?” The boy said: “Ten coins.” He paid the price of ten coins. When the boy put down the firewood and set it on the ground, all was dark and he could no longer see into his belly. Jīvaka reflected: “I do not know which piece within the bundle is the wood of the King of Medicines.” He then untied the two bundles, gathered them piece by piece, and placed them against the boy's belly, but none of them illuminated anything. Having gone through the two bundles of firewood in this way, the very last small twig illuminated the interior of his belly. Jīvaka was overjoyed, knowing that this small twig was certainly the King of Medicines. He returned all the firewood to the boy, who departed joyfully. At that time, a daughter of a gṛhapati family in the kingdom, fifteen years of age, suddenly suffered a headache and died on the verge of her wedding day. When Jīvaka heard of it, he went to her home and asked: “What illness did the girl usually have that led to her untimely death?” The father said: