After a few days had passed in this way, the old man said, “You two beasts have hearts that are truly fine! Already you’ve shown yourselves to be bodhisattvas!”
The rabbit, inspired by these words, seized a torch and some oil, pricked up his ears, arched his back, opened his eyes, pulled in his paws, and with the hole in his rear end wide open, rushed off east and west, north and south, hunting for something to eat. But no matter where he looked, he could find nothing. Meanwhile, the monkey, the fox, and the old man cried “Shame!” berating him, or tried to encourage him with smiles, but all in vain.
The rabbit thought to himself, “To find food for this old man I could go off to the fields and mountains, but the fields and mountains are a fearful place, there’s nothing to be found there! I’d only be killed by human beings or by other beasts. I’d never accomplish my aim but would lose my life for nothing. If I am to cast off my present form, better that I do so once and for all by being eaten by this old man!”
Then he went to where the old man was and said, “I’ve looked around and found something delicious for you to eat! Gather some wood and prepare a fire to cook it with!”
The monkey then gathered some firewood, and the fox got a fire going, waiting and wondering what the rabbit would bring. But the rabbit came with nothing at all.
When the monkey and the fox saw this, they said, “What have you brought? Just as we suspected—it was all a lying scheme! You wanted us to gather wood and make a fire simply so you could warm yourself by the flames! How hateful!”
The rabbit said, “I looked for something to eat but couldn’t find anything. So I’ll just provide food by roasting my own body!” And with these words, he leaped into the fire and burned to death.
Then the god Indra, changing back into his original form, took the body of the rabbit out of the flames and placed it in the moon. He did this so that all living beings everywhere could look at it and remember. Thus it is that when something like clouds veil the face of the moon, this is smoke from the fire in which the rabbit burned himself. And when people talk about a rabbit in the moon, it is the body of this rabbit they mean. Whenever people anywhere look at the moon, let them remember the rabbit’s story.
How a Lion Showed Pity for a Monkey’s Children and Tore Out His Own Flesh for an Eagle (5:14)
Long ago in India, there was a lion who lived in a cave deep in the mountains. This lion thought to himself, “I am the king of the beasts. Therefore, I must guard and look out for the other beasts.”
There were some monkeys living in this mountain, a husband and a wife, and they became parents to two little monkeys who in time grew to be big monkeys. While the baby monkeys were still little, one of the parents would clasp a baby to its stomach and the other would carry a baby on its back, and in this way they would range over the mountain fields, gathering fruits and berries to feed the babies. But when the babies got bigger, it was no longer possible to clasp them to their stomachs or carry them on their backs. Hence the parents could no longer range over the mountain fields, gathering fruits and berries, and no longer had any way to feed their offspring. And, in fact, they found it hard even to prolong their own lives. Because if they left their offspring at home and went off in search of food, they feared that birds might swoop down from the sky and eat their little ones, or other beasts might rush in and make off with them. Beset by worries of this kind, they remained where they were until they were exhausted and on the verge of starvation.
Trying to come up with some solution to this problem, they thought to themselves, “In a cave in this mountain lives a lion. If we get the lion to look after these children of ours, we can go out to the mountain fields, gather fruits and berries to feed the children, and at the same time prolong our own lives.”
With this thought in mind, they went to the cave and said to the lion, “The lion is the king of the beasts. Therefore, it is up to him first of all to pity and take care of the other beasts. We too are beasts, lowly though we are, and so deserve your pity. We have given birth to two children. While they were still little, we would carry one on our back and have the other cling to our stomach, and in that way go out to the mountain fields to gather fruits and berries to feed the children and sustain our own lives.
“But since the children have bit by bit grown bigger, it’s no longer possible to carry them on our backs or clinging to our stomachs, and we can’t go out into the fields as we used to. So both our children and we ourselves are about to die of starvation. If we left the children alone and went off to look for food, we are fearful of what the other beasts might do. Hence we don’t dare do that, though we are on the verge of starvation. But perhaps, while we go off to the mountain fields to gather fruits and berries, we could leave the children with you, and you would be kind enough to look after them. Then, knowing they were in your care, we would feel completely at ease.”
“What you say is quite reasonable,” the lion replied. “Bring the children at once and leave them here. I will look out for them until you come back.”
The monkeys were delighted with the lion’s answer, brought their children, and left them with him while they went off to the mountain fields to gather fruits and berries, no longer a worry in mind.
The lion placed the two little monkeys in front of him and, never once looking aside, proceeded to guard them. But then he fell into a doze, and at that moment an eagle came and hid in a tree at the mouth of the cave. “If he lets down his guard for a moment, I can grab those monkeys and make off with them,” he thought to himself. And when he saw that the lion had dozed off, he flew down, seized one monkey in each of his claws, and returned with them to the tree so he could devour them.
The lion, startled, looked around in alarm but could see no sign of the monkeys. In alarm, he rushed out of the cave, and there he saw the eagle in the nearby tree, pinning the monkeys down with both of his claws and preparing to eat them.
Panicked at the sight of this, he advanced to the tree and addressed the eagle: “You are the king of the birds; I, the king of the beasts. We ought to have a little consideration for one another. Some monkeys who live in the vicinity of this cave came to me and said that they have to go out to gather fruits and berries to feed their offspring and to keep themselves alive. But they were worried what might become of their two offspring when they went out to the mountain fields, and so they asked me to look out for them and left them in my cave. But now you wait until I doze off a little and come and snatch them away. Please be good enough to give them back! I promised I would guard them, and if I were to fail to keep my promise, it would be as though my very liver and heart were cut out! So I’m sure you will not refuse my request. If I get really angry and begin to roar, things will not be so pleasant for you and the others around here!”
“What you say is quite right,” the eagle replied. “But I intend to make these two monkeys my meal for today. If I returned them to you, I would be in danger of starving this very day. I have the greatest respect for your concerns as a lion, but I must think of my own welfare. Therefore, I cannot obey your wishes, for that would jeopardize my own survival.”
“The explanation you give is entirely reasonable,” said the lion.
“That being the case, let me offer you a portion of my own flesh to use in place of the two monkeys. Let that serve as your meal for today.” Then, with his claws sharp as swords, he tore a piece of flesh from his thigh, equal in size to the two monkeys put together, and presented it to the eagle. Then he asked the eagle to return the monkeys. “In view of the circumstances,” said the eagle, “what reason would I have to refuse?” and he handed them over.
Having regained possession of the two monkeys, the lion, his body covered in blood, returned to his cave. When the mother monkey came back from gathering fruits and berries and heard from the lion what had happened, her tears fell like rain. “I was not so much concerned about you in particular,” the lion said to her. “But I had given my promise, and I would have been profou
ndly disturbed to think that I had not been true to it. And then, too, it is my duty to show deep pity for all beasts!”
The lion was the one we now know as Shakyamuni. The father monkey was the Venerable Kashyapa and the mother monkey was the nun Zengo. The two little monkeys were Ānanda and Rāhula. The eagle was——. This is the tale that has been told.6
How a Nine-Colored Deer Came Out of a Mountain and Saved a Man from Drowning (5:18)
Long ago in India there was a mountain, and in this mountain lived a deer who had nine colors adorning his body and white horns. The people of the country did not know that he lived in the mountains. In front of the mountain was a great river. In this mountain there also lived a crow, and it and the deer had passed many years together, one in mind.
Now there was a man who set out to cross the river, but he was swept off his feet, bobbing and sinking. He thought that he would surely die, when he managed to grab onto a floating log. As he drifted along, he called out, “You mountain gods, you forest gods, heavenly beings, dragon gods, why don’t you save me?” But no matter how he cried, no one came to help him.
As it happened, however, the deer who lived in the mountain had just then come down to the river. Hearing his cries, he said to the man, “Don’t be afraid—I’ll carry you on my back. Take hold of my two horns, and I’ll put you on my back and take you to the shore!” And he swam across the river and helped the man to reach the embankment.
The nine-colored deer kneels in front of the king’s carriage. (From an Edo-period wood-block edition of Uji shūi monogatari, with the permission of Komine Kazuaki)
The man, overjoyed at having his life saved, faced the deer, bowed to him, and, weeping, said, “That I am alive today is due solely to your help. How can I repay the debt I owe you?”
The deer said, “What is this talk of repaying a debt? I only ask that you never, never tell anyone that I live in this mountain. My body is adorned with nine colors—like no other in this world—and my horns are white as snow. If people learn of this, they will want to get hold of my hide and horns and will surely kill me. That is what I fear, and so I hide deep in this mountain and let no one know I am here. I beg you, dim your voice, summon up a heart of deep pity, and help me!”
The man, moved by the deer’s pleas, weeping copiously, again and again replied that he would tell no one what had happened, and so they parted.
The man returned to his native village, and though the days and months passed by, he never spoke a word of what had happened to anyone. At that time, however, the consort of the ruler of the kingdom told of what she had seen in a dream: a huge deer, his body adorned with nine colors and with white horns. After the dream had ended, she fell ill, driven by a desire to gain possession of the colorful deer.
When the ruler of the kingdom asked her why she did not get up, she explained, “I have seen that colorful deer in a dream, just as it is, and so I know it must exist in this world. I must get it, strip it of its hide, and get its horns!” The king accordingly issued a proclamation, saying, “If there is anyone who has knowledge of such-and-such a deer, let him come forward—he shall be given gold, silver, and other treasures. Whatever he asks for, he shall receive!” Such was the proclamation.
At that time, when the man who had been helped by the deer heard the proclamation, he was seized with desires in his heart that he could not repress, and he forgot what he had promised the deer. He said to the king, “In such-and-such a country, in such-and-such a mountain, you will find him—that deer of nine colors! I know where he is. Quickly prepare your forces, and I will take you there!”
The king was delighted when he heard this. “I will lead out my forces, and we will set off for that mountain!” he said, and at once gave orders for a large force to be called out, and they headed for the mountain. He appointed the man to act as guide to show them the way. They had already entered the mountain, but the nine-colored deer, having no word whatsoever of their coming, slept soundly in the fastness of his lair.
At that moment the crow, his bosom friend, seeing the troops advancing, flew to the deer’s lair in alarm and confusion, screeching loudly to warn him. Addressing the deer, he said, “Because the great king of this land wants to use your colored hide, he has led out many troops and surrounded this valley. Even now, though you flee, it is too late to save your life!” Having delivered his message, he flew away lamenting.
The deer, startled, looked about and saw that the great king had led many of his forces and surrounded him. Realizing that there was no chance of fleeing, he decided to walk right up to the king’s carriage. The armed men all cocked their bows in preparation to shoot.
At that time, the king gave an order: “You men, for the present do nothing to harm this deer. Looking at it, I can see that his hide is not like that of an ordinary deer. He has shown no fear of my forces, but has approached my carriage. Let us wait and see what he will do.” With this, the troops put down their weapons and waited.
The deer knelt in front of the royal carriage and spoke: “I, because of fear for my colored hide, have for many years now lived in hiding in the deep valleys, never daring to let anyone know where I was. Great king, how have you learned of my whereabouts?”
The king replied, “I knew nothing of your whereabouts. It was this man by my carriage, the one with a birthmark on his face, who told me of it.”
The deer, hearing the king’s explanation, turned to look at the man by the carriage side. He had a birthmark on his face, and was the man whom he had helped.
Facing the man when he spoke, he said, “When I saved your life, I was happy to do you that favor, and you promised over and over again never to tell anyone about my whereabouts. Why have you forgotten your mercy and now tell the king to put me to death? When you were on the point of drowning, I forgot about the dangers to my life and swam out to help you, steering you into the shore. Now to forget that kindness—this is a deed of unmitigated evil!” The tears flowed down as he wept uncontrollably. Faced with the deer’s accusation, the man had nothing to say.
Then the king spoke up. “From this day forward, let no man within this realm venture to kill a deer! If anyone violates this commandment and ventures to kill even one deer, he shall be put to death and his house destroyed!” said the king. Then he led his forces back to the capital. The deer, too, went home happy.
From that time on, the rains in the state fell in season and no intemperate winds blew. The realm was without pestilence, the five grains grew in abundance, and there were no poor people.
Hence we know that among humans there are those who forget about a deed of kindness, while among the beasts there are those who save human beings. Present and past, it has been ever so. According to tradition, that deer with the nine-colored hide was the one we know as Shakyamuni Buddha. The crow who understood his heart was Ānanda. The king’s consort was the one known as Sundarī. The man who came near to drowning was the present-day Devadatta.7
TALES FROM CHINA
Books 6 through 9, which cover the transmission of Buddhism from India to China, include various stories of miracles and karmic causality. Book 6 begins with the suppression of Buddhism under the First Emperor (r. 246–221 B.C.E.) of China, while book 7 depicts the world after death and hell, which are rarely revealed in the Indian tales. Book 9, which includes the story “How Moye of China Made a Sword and Presented It to the King and How His Son, Broad-of-Brow, Was Killed” (9:44),8 focuses on stories of filial piety, which were important not only for Confucianism but also for Buddhism. Book 10 is a secular history (kokushi) of China that begins with a mini-history of the First Emperor and includes the tale “How Wang Zhaojun, Consort of Emperor Yuan of the Han, Went to the Land of the Hu” (10:5). The story of Wang Zhaojun, a woman whose legend became famous in China, appears repeatedly in Japanese literature.
How Moye of China Made a Sword and Presented It to the King and How His Son, Broad-of-Brow, Was Killed (9:44)
Long ago in China in the reign of King
——,9 there lived a man named Moye who was an ironworker by trade.
At that time, the king’s consort, unable to bear the summer heat, was constantly to be found clinging to the iron stanchions of the palace. Later she gave birth to a child. (She clung to them because they were cool.)
The king, wondering at her behavior, asked her, “Why do you do that?” The queen replied, “I’m doing nothing wrong. It’s just that the summer heat is intolerable, so I cling to the iron stanchions. Is there something odd in that?”
“So that’s the reason,” thought the king. He summoned Moye, who had made the iron stanchions, and ordered him to fashion a precious sword.
When Moye came to make the sword, he decided to fashion two of them, one to present to the king and one to put aside and keep secret. When the king had duly received the sword that Moye had made for him, he discovered that the sword was constantly lamenting. The king, wondering at this, questioned his high ministers. “Why is the sword crying?” he asked them.
The high ministers replied, “There’s bound to be some reason why the sword cries. Perhaps it’s because this is one of two swords, a husband and a wife. If so, then it cries out its love for the other.”
The king, hearing this, was extremely angry. Summoning Moye at once, he berated him for his fault in the matter.
But even before the messenger arrived from the king summoning him, Moye had been talking with his wife: “Tonight I have a very inauspicious feeling. A messenger from the king is certain to come. I know I cannot escape the death penalty! If the child in your womb is a boy, then, when he grows up, tell him, ‘Look among the pines of the southern mountain!’”
The Demon at Agi Bridge and Other Japanese Tales (Translations from the Asian Classics) Page 5