經律異相 31.21.2

31.21.2

The daughter suffered slightly from a headache, which worsened day by day; [one] morning it flared up and proved fatal. Jīvaka illuminated the girl’s head with the king of medicines, seeing that there were sharp parasites, breeding into several hundreds, large and small, which had bored into and devoured the brain; because the brain was consumed, she had died. He then used a golden scalpel to slit open her head, extracted all the parasites, sealed them into a jar, and smeared three kinds of divine ointment on the wound. One kind repaired the injuries between the bones where the parasites had eaten; one kind generated brain matter; and one kind treated the external incision from the blade. He addressed the girl’s father, saying, ‘Keep her properly quiet and take strict care not to startle her. In seven days she will recover. When that day arrives, I shall return.’

As soon as Jīvaka had departed, the girl’s mother began weeping anew, saying, ‘My child has died a second time! How could anyone whose head has been cut open and whose brain has been chiseled out ever come back to life?’

The father stopped her, saying, ‘From his birth Jīvaka has held acupuncture needles and medicine; he cast aside noble status to travel about practicing as a physician, solely to protect and heal human lives for the sake of all. How could this divine king of physicians be lying? He admonished you, saying, “Take strict care not to startle her,” yet now you weep and wail instead to agitate her! Do you wish to ensure that this child will never live again?’

Upon hearing this, the mother ceased weeping, tended her, and watched over her. Quiet was kept for seven days. The girl then let out a breath and awoke, as if waking from sleep, saying, ‘Now I have no headache at all, and my entire body is at ease. Who looked after me to make me like this?’

The father said, ‘You were previously dead. The king of physicians, Jīvaka, came specifically to look after you. He opened your head and removed the parasites so that you were brought back to life.’ He then opened the jar, took out the parasites, and showed them to her. Seeing them, the girl was all the more terrified, feeling deeply fortunate, and said, ‘Jīvaka is truly divine! How can such grace be repaid?’

Presently Jīvaka arrived. The girl rejoiced greatly; going out the gate, she welcomed him, paid homage, knelt, and said, ‘I wish to be your maidservant for the rest of my life to repay your kindness in giving me new life.’

Jīvaka said, ‘I am a physician who travels all about treating illnesses, having no fixed dwelling. What use would I have for a maidservant? If you truly wish to repay my kindness, give me five hundred ounces of gold. I will not use it for myself; I must thank my master for his kindness. Although my master had nothing to teach me, I once served as his disciple; now that I have obtained your gold, I shall give it to him.’

The girl then offered five hundred ounces of gold. Jīvaka accepted it and gave it to his master. Thereupon he informed the king that he wished to return temporarily to visit his mother. Arriving in the kingdom of Vaiśālī, [he heard of] a son of a householder (gṛhapati) who was fond of learning and made a wooden horse over seven cubits high. While practicing vaulting onto it, he at first managed to mount the horse, but subsequently lost his footing, fell to the ground, and died. Hearing of this, Jīvaka went and illuminated him with the king of medicines, seeing once more that his liver had twisted backwards and the flow of qi was blocked and obstructed, which is why he had died. Again, using a golden scalpel, he opened the abdomen and reached in with his hand to adjust and treat it. Having returned the liver to face forward, he smeared it with three kinds of divine ointment: one repaired the places tended by his hand, one smoothed and unblocked the respiration, and one governed the closing of the incision. He instructed the father, saying, ‘Take strict care not to startle him; in three days he will recover.’

The father received the instruction and nursed him in stillness and quiet until three days had passed. The boy then let out a breath and awoke, just as if waking from sleep, immediately getting up and sitting. Soon Jīvaka arrived. The boy came out to welcome him, bowed, and said, ‘I wish to be your slave for the rest of my life, serving you to repay the kindness of being restored to life.’

Jīvaka said, ‘I am a physician who travels all about treating illnesses; the households of the sick compete to run errands for me, so what use would I have for a slave? My mother raised me with bitter toil, yet I have not provided for her. If you wish to thank me, give me five hundred ounces of gold to repay my mother’s kindness.’ Taking the gold, he presented it to Āmrapālī, and returned to the kingdom of Rājagṛha.

Having revived these two people, Jīvaka’s fame spread throughout the world so that there was none who had not heard of him.

Furthermore, to the south there was a great kingdom eight thousand li from Rājagṛha; Bimbisāra and all the small kingdoms were vassal states to it. Its king had been ill for many years without recovering; he constantly suffered from fury and glared about, putting people to death. If anyone raised their eyes to look at him, he had them killed; if they lowered their heads and did not look up, he also had them killed. If he sent someone on an errand and they walked slowly, he had them killed; if they ran quickly, he also had them killed. The attendants at his side did not know where to put hands or feet. Whenever physicians compounded medicine, he invariably suspected it was poisonous and had them killed as well. Those he had killed beforehand—ministers, palace women, and the ranks of physicians—were beyond count. The illness worsened daily, its virulent vapor attacking his heart; agitated, swollen, and short of breath, it was like fire burning his body. Hearing Jīvaka’s name, he immediately issued a decree ordering King Bimbisāra to summon Jīvaka.

When Jīvaka heard that this king killed many physicians, young and old were terrified. Bimbisāra also pitied his youth and feared he would be killed. Yet if he wished not to send him, he feared punitive attack. Father and son looked upon each other, sorrowing day and night. They then took Jīvaka and together went to question the Buddha. The Buddha told Jīvaka, ‘In a past life you made a vow with me that together we should rescue and protect the illnesses of the people of the world. I treat internal illnesses, and you treat external illnesses. Now that I have attained buddhahood, by virtue of that original vow you were born before me. This king’s illness is grave, and he has sent from afar to welcome you; how could you not go? Go quickly to attend him; promptly employ skillful means to ensure the illness is definitely cured. He will not kill you.’

Jīvaka then, supported by the Buddha’s spiritual power, went to the king’s place. He examined the pulse and illuminated him with the king of medicines. In the king’s five viscera and hundred vessels, the blood and qi were seething and turbulent, and all was visible: it was the poison of a scorpion that pervaded his body.

Jīvaka addressed the king, ‘Your Majesty’s illness can be treated; if treated, recovery is guaranteed. However, I must see the queen mother to consult and compound the medicine. If I do not see the queen mother, the medicine will never succeed.’

When the king heard these words, he did not understand the reason. In his heart he wished greatly to rage; yet suffering from his bodily affliction, and having long heard of Jīvaka’s fame—which is why he had welcomed him from afar—he hoped there would certainly be benefit, and seeing that he was a young boy, he knew there was no treacherous deceit, so he endured it and listened. He immediately sent a maidservant and a palace eunuch to lead him in to see the queen mother.

Jīvaka addressed the queen mother, ‘The king’s illness can be treated; I must now compound the medicine. Its formula must be disclosed secretly and cannot be made public. I request that your attendants be dismissed.’

The queen mother then dismissed the maidservant and eunuch. Jīvaka then asked the queen mother, ‘Just now when examining the king’s illness, I saw that the blood and vessels within the king’s body were entirely the venom of a snake and scorpion, resembling nothing human. Whose child is the king truly? Let the queen mother tell me the truth, and I will be able to treat him. If you do not tell me, I shall not know what to treat.’

The queen mother said, ‘Long ago, when resting during the day in the Hall of Golden Pillars, something suddenly came and stroked me. In a daze, I dreamed of having relations with it. Suddenly I awoke and saw a huge scorpion over thirty feet long leaving from atop me, and immediately I felt I was pregnant. The king is truly the child of this scorpion. Out of shame, this has never passed my lips. How wondrously divine that you, child, have detected it now! If the illness can be treated—’