經律異相 23.40

23.40

In the city of Śrāvastī, there was a solitary and poor widowed mother who had an only daughter. She was just seventeen years old, with an upright and dignified countenance, but her clothes could not cover her body. Her mother begged for food to sustain them. The daughter was chaste, virtuous, intelligent, and perceptive; she read the scriptures extensively and maintained her integrity, never leaving her doors. Living near the royal highway, her heart wished to marry a king, and she also wished to serve the deities as one does the Buddha. The king went out to travel through his realm. He saw a crow cawing above the poor girl’s gate. The king then drew his bow and shot the crow. Carrying the king’s arrow, the crow flew into the girl’s house. The king’s attendants pursued the crow into the dwelling. The girl did not show her face, but merely pulled out the arrow, released the crow, and, taking the arrow, threw it outside. When the king’s men saw her fingers, they knew she was no ordinary person. A year later, the king’s primary consort passed away. He sought a wife to be consort, but none had the corresponding bodily marks. Inquiring widely among the people, his attendants reported: ‘Earlier, the daughter of the destitute and solitary mother whose house we chased the crow to was sixteen or seventeen. Although we did not see her face, looking at her hands and hearing her voice, she seemed to be a noble person.’ The king then went to look, summoning her to come along with him. He sent a physiognomist to divine her fortune, and the messenger went directly inside her gate. The girl’s mother was not present, and only the girl stayed there alone. The messenger called for the girl to come out, calling three times without reply. The messenger said: ‘Girl of a poor family, come out!’ The girl replied: ‘Talented or untalented, each belongs to their own family. Who are you to intrude upon my house? Get out the door immediately!’ The messenger said: ‘The king has sent me to summon you. You, a child of a lowly household, how dare you act like this?’ The girl said: ‘On what matter has the king sent you here? If he seeks me to be a maidservant, my family has not violated the king’s law. If he seeks me to be his wife, then you all are my servants! How dare you treat a poor gate lightly, relying on authority to intrude and intimidate a woman? Although a woman is lowly, she has her own past karma and will not yield to intimidation. Report this to the king!’ The messenger dared to reply, and fully reported it to the king. The king then ordered the hundred officials to prepare the carriages and fully arrange the ceremonial etiquette, and went to welcome her accompanied by five hundred palace ladies. The envoys carried offerings of respect: oxen, sheep, pigs, wine, and foods of betrothal. The envoys rode in carriages with black canopies, drawn by five horses, to receive the maiden. In the vanguard were a hundred thousand elite soldiers, followed by a thousand carriages, ten thousand fine horses, and an escort of one hundred and twenty thousand men. Bells were struck and drums beaten, the sound shaking heaven and earth. Innumerable onlookers gathered, arriving at the girl’s gate. The envoys got down from the carriages and came forward to present their respects. The maiden respectfully gave an order, saying: ‘I thank the envoys, all the officials, clerks, and people for your trouble on the road, great and small. You have not cast aside this impoverished and lowly maiden, troubling the officers and attendants to come from afar, and humbling the king’s weighty mandate. Because I am poor and lowly, it is only through past merit that I am mistakenly brought to the king’s palace steps. Estimating myself, I am ugly: in virtue, I have no feminine deportment; in appearance, I lack the color of peach blossoms or the udumbara; in voice, I lack the pleasing sound of strings and pipes; in wisdom, I have not the illumination of holy and great persons; in perception, I have not the foresight across ten thousand li of the sages; in body, I lack the radiant luster of purple gold; in breath, I have not the fragrance of sandalwood and musk; in speech, I lack the beauty of loyalty, harmony, benevolence, and goodness; in conduct, I have not the proper rhythm of advancing, retreating, rising, or descending. Unworthily burdened with the king’s command, I have troubled the onlookers in vain.’ The envoys and the hundred officials held their breath in admiration. She spoke to the palace ladies: ‘Your merit is thin, which has cast you down into this lowly servitude. From now on, as we work together, you should each rectify your hearts, cultivate goodness in your conduct, and do not violate royal etiquette.’ The five hundred palace ladies all answered in assent. She also called the two thousand five hundred maidservants and said to them: ‘Among human beings there is no noble or base; those who possess the Way are honored. You are all children of good families; throughout past and present, changing circumstances have placed you in lowliness. Do not demean yourselves; you must strive to do good.’ They all said: ‘We obey your instructions.’ The hundred officials presented the royal gifts: one thousand cakes of yellow gold, two thousand cakes of white silver, auspicious flower-garlands, crystal and lapis lazuli, bright moon spirit-pearls, coral and amber, one thousand bolts of white silk, one thousand bolts of royal fine silk, and clothing of patterned satin, floss silk, gossamer, vermilion embroidery, purple and green, plain white, yellow, red, and fine silk gauze, along with various perfumes of sandalwood, a thousand bolts in all. The hundred officials presented a hundred garments of the consort’s attire and ornaments. The maiden then accepted them, and when her adornment was complete, she came out and bowed to those of high rank. When the hundred officials saw her, none were not delighted; they all hailed her with ‘Ten thousand years!’ and said, ‘The realm will surely have great peace, having gained the mother of our hundred surnames and myriad subjects!’ The palace ladies and maidservants drew near to her like children finding their mother. Gathering her robes, she mounted the carriage; the carriage was stable, the horses were well tamed, and the sky turned clear and bright. White elephants gathered like clouds, calling to one another. The hundred officials, ministers, and commoners all said: ‘A heavenly being has descended; the realm will surely be protected and peaceful.’ When they reached the palace gate, it opened naturally. The five hundred attendants entered the palace and descended from the carriages. Within the palace, five-colored light arose spontaneously, shining brightly upon the hall and illuminating inside and outside. Entering the hall, she bowed to the king. When the king saw her, he was startled and awestruck, not knowing what to do; he stepped down from his seat to respond to her. The primary consort paid homage to the king, performing a hundred prostrations as fluid as flowing water; kneeling and rising on her own, she stopped only after a hundred bows. The king knelt upright to respond to her. She issued orders in the palace to be gentle, benevolent, and kind, and not to hurt the feelings of others. The king loved and respected her. She spoke slowly and sparsely, and her words always conformed to what was right. Inside and outside, all respected and submitted to her. After entering the palace, for seven days and seven nights she did not sleep, making merry together with the other consorts and palace ladies. The king wished to see her, but the consort’s intention was chaste and her mind pure, not abiding in defilement. Her original intention was pure, so she did not speak with the king, nor did she meet with him. The king said: ‘The duty of a household and the role of husband and wife is based on affection and intimacy. The consort has entered the palace for seven days and seven nights, yet we do not meet. What is her intention? Does she consider this proper?’ The consort sent a palace lady to reply to the king, saying: ‘From my birth, I had two wishes. Now I have obtained one, but have not yet obtained the other. Therefore we have not met.’ The king said: ‘What have you obtained, and what have you not obtained?’ The consort replied: ‘In my youth, I made a vow: may my husband be like a king, and may I serve the deities as I do the Buddha.’ The king said: ‘You may meet me once, and afterwards I will go and invite the Buddha for you.’ The consort said: ‘No. If I have not yet seen the Buddha, I will never meet with the king.’ The king was furious and said: ‘You were originally of a lowly and beggarly sort; how dare you defy the will of a lord of ten thousand chariots?’ The consort said: ‘A woman’s life is bound to her husband; wherever he directs, she obeys his command. But I have a past vow that must not be broken. Though a ruler is honored, he cannot unjustly interrogate an innocent person.’ The king said: ‘I am the master of ten thousand chariots. Those who offend are executed immediately; how could I ask whether it is unjust or straight?’ The consort said: ‘A ruler is the father and mother of the people; executions must follow principle. How can you indulge your own joy and anger? Even an ordinary man would not do this, how much less a king!’ The king said: ‘Those who follow my heart are pardoned; those who do not are executed.’ The consort said: ‘A woman also has her modest heart. Only if her heart is granted will we meet. If her heart is not granted, we will never meet.’ The king said: ‘How can we invite him?’ The consort said: ‘The Buddha is in our realm; if you invite him, he will certainly come.’ The king said: ‘I fear the hundred officials will laugh at me.’ The consort said: ‘If the king invites the Buddha into the palace and up to the hall, the hundred officials will naturally rejoice; receiving blessings in lifetime after lifetime, they will not laugh at the king.’ The king said: ‘Very good!’ That very day, he ordered the kitchen to prepare food for a hundred thousand people. He sent a maidservant to inform the consort: ‘The food for a hundred thousand people to invite the Buddha has been prepared. You may go and invite the Buddha.’ The consort said: ‘A woman must follow commands. In the propriety of inviting the Buddha, the great king should condescend to ride your chariots, go briefly to meet the Buddha, and pay deep respect to him.’ The king said: ‘If I invite, I go myself; if you invite, you go yourself. I will not go.’ The consort said: ‘A ruler is noble and is my husband; a woman’s strength is not equal to a king’s slight word. If the king condescends to show his authority and go briefly to meet the Buddha, all will be well; if not, I am not the great king’s family. We do not yet have the relationship of husband and wife in a household, and remain strangers.’ The king said: ‘Since the marriage is not yet completed, there is no duty between us; it is up to your intention.’ The consort remained silent without speaking, her radiant brilliance shining, her countenance extraordinary. The king suspected the consort might want to commit suicide or escape. He ordered the inner and outer guards and patrolmen to set up guards, soldiers, and officers to shut the palace gates. They stood shoulder to shoulder in continuous ranks so that even flying birds could not pass. The palace ladies inside stood side by side in succession so that not even a needle could fall. The consort knew the king did not intend to invite the Buddha and did not trust her. Then, upon the hall, the consort transformed and vanished; her body was nowhere to be seen. A thousand palace ladies and seventy-one consorts were all startled, looking at one another, scattering to search for her; spreading out through the interior and exterior, she was nowhere to be seen. The king was greatly ashamed and terrified, rising with tears in his eyes. The king said: ‘What shall I do? What shall I do? It was caused by my obstinacy; I regret it deeply. By what means can I make her return?’ The second consort said to the king: ‘The primary consort is not an ordinary person like us. The king should have complied with her wishes, but instead abruptly rejected her and treated her with unpredictable anger and harsh words. She is a heavenly being! If the king causes the primary consort to leave, upon what will the seventy-one of us rely?’ The palace ladies and maidservants all wept as if someone had died. The ministers and people, men and women, were also grieved and lamenting: ‘Now in our realm, whom can we rely upon?’ The birds shrieked, and heaven and earth shook violently. Moved with remorse, the king wished to die; looking up to heaven, he sighed deeply, his tears falling like rain. The people did not pursue their livelihoods; the marketplaces were desolate and abandoned. In groups of tens and fifteens, they wandered around in sorrow. For seven days and seven nights, the king lay down, fasting and eating no grain. The second consort said: ‘For now, you should go briefly to meet the Buddha and invite him to come along.’ The king went to the Buddha’s place, bowed his head to the ground in reverence, and said to the Buddha: ‘I am Agadaru, king of the state of Agirāneya.’ Repeating this three times, he quickly paid his respects, saying: ‘I am continuously occupied with state affairs and have no leisure from morning to evening.’ The Buddha said: ‘State affairs are troublesome and fraught with many entanglements, truly taxing the spirit. Are the officers, people, and borders peaceful or not?’ The king said: ‘All receive the Buddha’s grace. I only wish you would condescend to come briefly to my humble dwelling.’ The Buddha remained silent. In a short while, the Buddha arrived at the hall. The primary consort, along with the other consorts and palace ladies, three thousand five hundred and seventy-one people in all, paid homage to the Buddha together. At first, the king did not see the consort, nor did the palace ladies see her; only the Buddha himself saw her. After the king finished paying homage to the Buddha, he was sorrowful and unhappy. The Buddha said to the king: ‘The primary consort you seek is precisely this person.’ When the king saw her, he rejoiced; the hundred officials, consorts, palace ladies, great and small, were also overjoyed. The king served food and drink. When the meal was finished, the Buddha made a great pronouncement of blessings, so that each obtained the desire of their heart. The king said to the Buddha: ‘My primary consort was originally the daughter of a poor, lowly, and solitary mother. Now she is the primary consort, and moreover she is able to make her body vanish and perform such magical transformations. What sins and blessings brought about this? She is honored above all but one, and has become the mother of the people. Her benevolence, virtue, wisdom, and kindness are such that her words are gentle and do not wound others’ feelings. She hid her form for seven days, and humans, ghosts, spirits, and nāgas did not know where she was.’ The Buddha told him: ‘In the past, the primary consort was a great gṛhapati, possessing countless wealth, but was stingy and did not give; therefore, in this life she was poor. The gṛhapati was by nature lustful and delighted in consorting with women; therefore, in this life she fell into being a woman. Furthermore, she loved to associate with Daoists who understood the scriptures and studied with them; therefore, she possessed wisdom. She had already seen five hundred Buddhas, and now has met me. In the past, she was a good friend to the king, and therefore they became husband and wife. In past lives, the primary consort served five hundred Buddhas, but she did not maintain her mind firmly and troubled the people of the world; therefore, she fell into being a woman. Thirty-nine kalpas from now, the primary consort will attain Buddhahood. The king will also be born seven times in heaven and seven times in the human world. When the king is born in heaven, the primary consort will be a heavenly maiden, serving at the king’s side, always suiting the king’s wishes. The king made a vow with the primary consort to die together, to follow each other life after life, and together to attain liberation. Because the king was arrogant and luxurious, indulging his joy and anger, she did not appear to him again.’ The king rejoiced greatly, and immediately attained the stage of non-retrogression. The Buddha then conferred the five precepts upon the king. The consorts, palace ladies, great and small, ministers, the hundred officials, and all the people of the state received the five precepts. The primary consort had previously received the ten precepts, observing the three yearly fasts and the six monthly fasts. Together with the three thousand five hundred and seventy-one palace ladies of the inner palace, she led them in practicing goodness. The king’s righteous rule was broad and generous, bringing great peace to the realm. He built stūpas and monasteries, all made with the seven treasures; they mutually respected each other, and inside and outside there was no thought of separation. When the people died, all lived out their full lifespans. The king’s primary consort awakened her mind to contemplate the impermanence of the world, realizing that people day and night indulge in lust, affectionate love, ignorance, and impurity, having no virtuous reputation in life and becoming impure ghosts in death. She then sighed deeply, changed her clothing, disheveled her appearance, and tangled her hair. She came forward and said to the king: ‘All things under heaven are impermanent and will inevitably end in death. The reason the king desires me is because I am young, my complexion and skin are smooth and radiant, and my breath is fragrant and pure. All these are transient and will inevitably end in death. In the union of husband and wife, there is hardly anything extraordinary; all of it is impure. With affection, there will be old age and sickness; when they arrive without warning, who will avert them for me? I am now terrified that disaster and harm will arrive suddenly and cannot be escaped. All people, noble and lowly, because of this single matter, will all swell up, stink, and become impure. What benefit is there in cherishing it in vain? The king should reflect for himself: what is extraordinary about the union of man and woman? What I speak is the true reality, not irrelevant to the matter.’ The king said: ‘You are of heavenly stock; what you say is not false. You have grasped the essence of things, and none of it is improper. The men, women, great and small of the realm all rely on you; please reconsider and remain with us.’ The primary consort said: ‘I am a woman and cannot control myself, which is why I report this to the king. The great king may dispatch me to fulfill the original vow of my past karma.’ The king said: ‘I am approaching old age. Although there are other consorts, palace ladies, and young ones, not one suits my mind. You should accompany me through my remaining years; after my death, I will entrust future affairs to you. The crown prince is still young; how could you abandon us and go? Where would you go?’ The consort said: ‘I find birth and death impermanent and detest these transformations. I wish to seek ordination from the Buddha as a śramaṇa.’ The king said: ‘You are the mother of a realm and the supreme consort. The consorts of other states, the palace ladies of the inner palace, great and small, all depend on you. How could you suddenly plan this? If gentlemen far and near hear of it, will they not laugh at us? Being a śramaṇa like that is not what a noble consort of your kind aspires to do; you should reconsider.’ The consort said: ‘All Buddhas of the ten directions have come from among śramaṇas. King Pukkusāti abandoned ninety-nine minor kingdoms, consorts, and eight or nine thousand palace ladies to seek to become a śramaṇa. Throughout past and present, there have been many men and women who sought to become śramaṇas; it is not I alone as a woman. Out of affection, the king covets my youthful beauty and cherishes my body. Yet my body is completely filled with pus, blood, and foul impurities. A woman is difficult to associate with; whenever anyone consorts with a woman, none fail to fall into sin. A woman’s body is hotter than boiling water and fire; it burns people and causes them to fall into grave sins, unable to escape for a thousand kalpas. In my past life, I was also a man, but solely because I consorted with women and had abundant affection, I lost manhood and became a woman. A woman is fearsome, yet the king does not realize it.’