過去現在因果經

When the Prince reached the age of ten, there were five hundred boys of the Sakya clan who were the same age as he. The Prince also had younger kinsmen such as Devadatta, Nanda, Sundarananda, and others. Among them, some possessed thirty auspicious marks, some possessed thirty-one marks, and some possessed all thirty-two marks, though they were not clearly manifest. Some were skilled in many disciplines, while others possessed extraordinary strength. Devadatta heard that the Prince was accomplished in every discipline and that his renown had spread everywhere, so he discussed the matter with the five hundred boys:

“Although the Prince is intelligent and wise, well versed in many texts, and skilled in debate, his strength may not necessarily equal ours. I wish to test my strength against the Prince.”

At that time, King Suddhodana sent people throughout the kingdom to seek out skilled archery masters to instruct the Prince. One day, when the master was teaching the Prince archery, Devadatta and the five hundred boys also followed them to the rear garden of the royal palace to practice. Their targets were iron drums. The master handed the Prince a small bow. The Prince smiled and asked:

“Master, for what purpose have you given me this?”

The archery master replied:

“I wish the Prince to strike that iron drum.”

The Prince considered the bow far too weak and asked for seven such bows. The master immediately gave them to him. Holding all seven bows together, the Prince shot a single arrow that passed through seven iron drums. The archery master then went at once to report to the king:

“Your Majesty, the Prince already knows the art of archery. With a single arrow, he pierced seven iron drums. In this Jambudvipa, no one surpasses the Prince. Why, then, does Your Majesty still command me to serve as his teacher?”

Hearing this, the king was greatly delighted and thought to himself, “Everyone knows that my son is exceedingly intelligent and excels in every field of learning, in the scriptures, debate, and mathematics, but few know that the Prince also excels in archery.” The king immediately ordered iron drums to be arranged and organized a contest of skill between the Prince and Devadatta’s group of five hundred. The king also announced to the people that seven days later the Prince and Devadatta would compete in martial arts in the rear garden, and that anyone skilled in martial arts could come and compete.

On the seventh day, Devadatta and sixty thousand members of his retinue were the first to set out from the city. Suddenly, a great elephant stood blocking the city gate, and none of the soldiers dared advance. Seeing this, Devadatta asked:

“Why have you stopped instead of proceeding?”

The soldiers replied that a great elephant was blocking the city gate. Upon hearing this, Devadatta advanced alone toward the elephant and struck it violently on the head with his fist. The elephant collapsed to the ground and died at once. Only then could the soldiers pass through one after another. Later, when Nanda and his retinue were leaving the city, the soldiers again had to pass along one side. Nanda asked why everyone was moving so slowly, and someone replied:

“Devadatta struck the elephant dead with his fist, and its carcass lies directly in the city gate. Everyone must go around it, so they cannot move quickly.”

Hearing this, Nanda went there alone and, with his toe, flicked the elephant’s carcass to the roadside so that everyone could pass. At that time, many people nearby gathered to watch. When it was the Prince’s turn to leave the city with his retinue of one hundred thousand, he saw a great crowd assembled.

Upon asking, he learned that Devadatta had struck the elephant dead with his fist and left its carcass at the city gate, and that Nanda had flicked the carcass to the roadside with his toe; therefore, everyone had gathered around to watch. The Prince then thought that the time had come to manifest his supernormal power. He approached, lifted the elephant’s carcass, and hurled it outside the city, then extended his hand and caught it without causing the elephant any injury.

The elephant suddenly returned to life, healthy and strong as before, entirely free of pain and suffering. When the people saw this, they praised it as an unprecedented event. When the king heard of it, he too regarded it as exceedingly wondrous.

When the Prince, Devadatta, Nanda, and the people arrived at the rear garden, it had been magnificently prepared. Drums made of gold, silver, copper, stone, iron, and other materials had been arranged there, seven of each kind. Devadatta shot first and pierced three golden drums. Nanda shot second and likewise pierced three drums. All the people praised them. The officials then addressed the Prince:

“Devadatta and Nanda have finished shooting. It is now the Prince’s turn. We beseech the Prince to shoot those drums.”

They made this request three times. The Prince said:

“If I am to shoot those drums, this bow is far too weak. Find me a stronger bow.”

The officials replied:

“The former king possessed an excellent bow that is now kept in the treasury. It can be brought for the Prince.”

When the bow was brought, the Prince took it up and shot a single arrow. It passed through all the drums and plunged into a pond, causing the water to surge upward; the arrow then continued onward until it pierced Mount Cakravada, the Iron Encircling Mountain.

At that time, Devadatta and Nanda playfully wrestled with each other, but they were evenly matched and neither could prevail. The Prince stepped forward, firmly grasped both of his younger kinsmen, and threw them to the ground. Yet, because of his compassion, neither of them experienced any pain. Seeing that the Prince possessed such strength, the people cried out in unison:

“The son of King Suddhodana not only surpasses everyone in wisdom, but his strength is also without equal.”

There was no one who did not admire him, and they revered the Prince even more deeply. At that time, King Suddhodana summoned his ministers to deliberate together. The king said:

“The Prince has now come of age and is fully endowed with wisdom and strength. I must now use water from the four seas to perform the consecration ceremony for the Prince.”

Having spoken, the king immediately commanded all the lesser kings to assemble at the palace on the eighth day of the second month to attend the Prince’s consecration ceremony. On that day, kings from other lands and Brahmin ascetics gathered in great numbers. The royal palace was magnificently adorned.

Banners and parasols were raised, incense was burned, flowers were scattered, bells and drums were sounded, and beautiful music was played. Vessels made of the seven precious substances were filled with water from the four seas. Each rishi bore a vessel of water upon his head and handed it to the Brahmin ascetics.

The Brahmins passed the vessels among the assembly and then handed them to the great ministers. The ministers each bore a vessel upon his head and presented it to the king. The king then poured the water over the Prince’s head and bestowed upon him the seal made of the seven precious substances.

He next ordered the great drum to be sounded and had this proclamation made in a loud voice:

“Today Sarvasiddhartha is established as Crown Prince.”

At that moment, in the sky, the eight classes of beings—devas, nagas, and the others—all played music and praised in unison:

“Excellent!”

At the very time when the bodhisattva was installed as Crown Prince, eight other kings in the city of Kapilavastu also installed their own crown princes.

One day, the Prince asked his royal father for permission to go sightseeing outside the city. The king consented and, together with the Prince and the ministers, proceeded out of the city to visit the royal farmlands. When they reached a jambu tree, the Prince stopped and watched the farmers plowing the fields.

At that time, a deva from the Pure Abodes transformed himself into an earthworm, which birds swooped down upon and pecked from the furrow. Seeing this, the Prince gave rise to loving-kindness and compassion, thinking, “Sentient beings are truly pitiable; one species devours the flesh of another.” The Prince then became absorbed in contemplation: “How may one depart from the realm of sensual desire?” His mind grew serene and concentrated, and he entered the four dhyanas.

As the sunlight shifted, the jambu tree swiftly bent its branches and spread its leaves to shade the Prince without moving away from him.

At that time, the king could not see the Prince, so he searched everywhere and questioned the officials. A deity said to the king, “The Prince is sitting beneath the shade of a jambu tree.” The king immediately went there with his officials. Before they reached the place, the king saw from afar that the Prince was sitting in meditation beneath the tree. Although it was late afternoon, the tree’s shadow had not moved and continued to shelter the Prince, greatly astonishing the king. The royal father approached, took the Prince by the hand, and asked:

“Why are you sitting here?”

The Prince replied:

“I have seen living beings devouring one another. They are truly pitiable.”

Hearing these words, the king became afraid that the Prince would renounce the household life. He therefore thought that he must find the Prince a wife, so that the Prince would be happy and forget such reflections. The king ordered his son to return to the palace, but the Prince expressed a desire to remain. Recalling the words of the seer Asita, the king shed tears and urged the Prince to return. Seeing that his royal father was sorrowful, the Prince yielded to him and returned. The king constantly thought about the possibility that the Prince would renounce the household life, so he ordered that the number of courtesans be increased to entertain him.

When the Prince was seventeen years old, the king summoned the officials to discuss his marriage. The officials reported that there was a Brahmin of the Shakya clan named Mahanama, whose daughter, Yasodhara, was beautiful in appearance and upright in character. She was also intelligent and wise, surpassing others in talent and virtue, and was a most fitting match for the Prince.

After hearing this, the king said that, if this were so, she should be taken as the Prince’s wife. The king then entered the inner palace and summoned a clever and intelligent palace woman, sending her to the home of the elder Mahanama to examine the young woman’s appearance and virtue. In obedience to the command, the palace woman went to the elder’s house and carefully observed Yasodhara for seven days.

She then returned and reported to the king:

“I have observed that she is beautiful in appearance and upright in character. Her bearing in walking and standing is dignified; truly, few can equal her!”

The king was delighted to hear this and immediately sent someone to say to the elder Mahanama:

“The Prince has now come of age, and the king wishes to find him a wife. His Majesty has heard all the officials at court praise your daughter and is greatly pleased with her. He has therefore sent me here to discuss the marriage.”

Mahanama replied:

“I respectfully obey His Majesty’s decree.”

The king then ordered the officials to select an auspicious day and commanded that ten thousand carriages be sent to escort the bride. When Yasodhara was brought to the palace, the king had all the wedding rites performed in full. He also increased the number of courtesans, who sang and danced day and night to delight the Prince. Although the Prince was never apart from his wife whether walking, standing, lying down, or sitting, he remained entirely untouched by worldly passion. Every night, the Prince devoted himself solely to the cultivation of meditative contemplation. The king frequently questioned the palace women about the Prince’s married life. They all reported:

“We have seen no conduct on the Prince’s part indicating the relationship of husband and wife.”

Hearing this, the king became even more distressed and hastily ordered the palace women to provide still more amusements for the Prince. After some time had passed, the Prince still had no intimacy whatsoever with his wife. The king therefore began to harbor doubts, fearing that the Prince lacked virile capacity.

One day, the Prince heard the palace women singing praises of the lovely scenery in a woodland garden, with its many luxuriant trees, flowers, and foliage, and its clear, cool springs and streams. Wishing to leave the city and visit the garden, he instructed a palace woman to report to the king that he had long remained within the palace precincts and now wished to go outside the city for an excursion. Hearing this report, the king was greatly pleased, but then he thought, “The Prince takes no pleasure in married life within the palace, and for that reason alone he has asked to go out on an excursion!” The king ordered the officials to clear the streets and make the garden immaculate and beautiful.

When the Prince came to pay respects to his royal father and ask permission for the excursion, the king appointed an intelligent senior minister, skilled in debate, to attend him. The Prince and his attendant officials departed through the eastern gate of the city. When the people of the kingdom heard that the Prince was leaving the city for an excursion, they gathered in such dense crowds to watch that they resembled masses of clouds in the sky.

At that time, a deva from the Pure Abodes transformed himself into an old man with white hair and a stooped back, leaning on a staff and dragging himself along. Seeing him, the Prince asked his attendant:

“What kind of person is that?”

The attendant replied:

“That is an old man.”

The Prince then asked:

“What is meant by ‘old’?”

The attendant replied:

“That man was once a child who gradually grew older with the passing years. Now his body has become aged and decrepit, his form feeble and withered. Eating and drinking are very difficult for him, and his strength has declined, so even standing and sitting are extremely difficult. He does not have much longer to live; therefore, he is called old.”

The Prince asked again:

“Is he alone like this, or will everyone become so?”

The attendant replied:

“Everyone will become like this.”

Hearing this answer, the Prince sorrowfully reflected, “The days and months pass swiftly, and old age arrives as suddenly as a flash of lightning. What certainty, then, can there be in this body? Although I possess wealth and rank, I too can never escape it.

Why do people of the world remain unafraid?” The Prince had never taken pleasure in ordinary worldly life, and now, upon hearing this, he became even more disenchanted and wished to leave the world behind. He therefore ordered the carriage to turn back toward the palace, his heart filled with sorrow and unease, devoid of joy. When the king learned what had happened, he became still more afraid that the Prince would renounce the household life, so he ordered the palace women to increase their singing, dancing, and entertainments to dispel the Prince’s melancholy.

Some time later, the Prince again asked to go out on an excursion. When the king heard this request, he became anxious and thought to himself, “On his previous excursion, the Prince encountered an old man and returned to the palace sorrowful and unhappy. Why does he now ask to go out again?” Yet because he loved his son, the king could not bear to refuse. He therefore summoned the officials and commanded:

“On the previous occasion, the Prince departed through the eastern gate for an excursion and encountered an old man, after which he returned to the palace distressed at heart. Now the Prince wishes to go out again, and I cannot refuse him. Whatever counsel you have, report it clearly to me.”

The officials advised that orders be issued to the local authorities to prepare everything with the utmost care and splendor: the roads should be repaired and swept clean, banners should be hung, flowers scattered, and incense burned. Nothing filthy or unclean, and no elderly or sick person, should be allowed to linger along the route.

At that time, south of the city of Kapilavastu, there was a garden whose verdant trees were flowering and bearing fruit. It also contained bathing ponds and sightseeing pavilions, and its setting was exceedingly elegant and beautiful, unequaled anywhere.

The king asked the chief ministers:

“What is especially remarkable about the scenery of the garden outside the city?”

The officials replied:

“The entire garden is as beautiful as Shakra’s Garden of Delight.”

The king ordered the officials to escort the Prince through the southern gate of the city. Just as the Prince and his attendant officials and guards had left the city, the deity from the Pure Abodes again transformed himself, this time into a sick man. His body was hideous, with nothing but skin covering his bones; his belly was greatly swollen, his breath came in wheezing gasps, and his complexion was pallid and ashen. Unable to walk by himself, he was supported by two men as he stood beside the road. Seeing him, the Prince asked:

“What kind of person is that?”

The attendant replied:

“That is a sick man.”

The Prince asked again:

“What is meant by ‘sick’?”

The attendant replied:

“Generally, illness arises from craving, from eating and drinking without moderation, and from an imbalance of the four great elements. Thus illness develops: the body becomes painful, strength and vitality grow weak, eating and drinking become difficult, and sleep and rest bring no ease. Although one has hands and feet, one can do nothing unaided; whether walking, standing, sitting, or lying down, one must rely upon the help of others.”

Hearing this, the Prince sorrowfully asked:

“Is that man alone afflicted with illness, or does everyone become ill?”

The attendant replied:

“All people, without distinction between noble and lowly, may become ill.”

When the Prince heard this, he thought: “Thus, the suffering of illness spares no one. Why, then, do people in the world still crave pleasure without fear?” After thinking this, the Prince became even more apprehensive, and his body and mind trembled like the tide rising beneath the full moon. The Prince said to his attendant:

“This body is indeed a gathering place for all forms of suffering. The foolish people of the world do not understand and remain intoxicated with pleasure and delight. Turn back. How could I still have the heart to go sightseeing and enjoy the flower garden?”

The royal procession conveyed the Prince back to the palace. After returning, the Prince remained pensive and sorrowful. The King asked the attendants:

“Did the Prince enjoy his excursion outside the city today?”

An attendant replied:

“Just after leaving through the southern gate, the Prince encountered a sick man. His heart became joyless, and he immediately ordered the carriage to turn back.”

Upon hearing this report, the King became even more fearful that the Prince would renounce the household life. He immediately summoned the officials and reprimanded them:

“When the Prince previously went out through the eastern gate, he encountered an old man and became sorrowful and unhappy. I ordered you to clear the roads and prevent the old and sick from approaching. Why, then, was there a sick man there for the Prince to see?”

The officials replied:

“In obedience to Your Majesty’s command, we and the local officials made meticulous preparations and took turns conducting inspections. We allowed no old or sick person, nor anything filthy, ugly, or unpleasant to the eye, to remain along either side of the road. Yet we do not know from where that sick man suddenly appeared. This was not the fault of your servants. We beg Your Majesty to judge with discernment.”

The King questioned the guards, but none of them knew where the sick man had come from. The King then became increasingly afraid that the Prince would renounce the household life, so he ordered the palace women to devise many entertainments to dispel the Prince’s sorrow, deliberately seeking to bind him and immerse him in the pleasures of the five desires.

At that time, there was a Brahmin named Udayin who was highly intelligent and skilled in debate. The King summoned him to the palace and said:

“The Prince now takes no delight in a worldly life of enjoying the five desires. I fear that before long he will renounce the household life and train in the Way. Befriend him and counsel him not to renounce the household life.”

Udayin replied:

“The Prince is intelligent, widely learned, and unequaled in eloquence. I have never seen anyone who could compare with him. How could I possibly persuade him? It would be no different from trying to overturn Mount Sumeru with a thread. In the same way, I could never alter the Prince’s resolve. Yet Your Majesty’s command that I become the Prince’s close friend is precisely what I have long desired.”

From then on, Udayin remained constantly near the Prince, whether he was walking, standing, lying down, or sitting. Meanwhile, the King ordered the selection of palace women who were beautiful, intelligent, accomplished in song and dance, and able to captivate people’s hearts. They were splendidly adorned and assigned to attend the Prince.

One day, the Prince again asked his royal father for permission to go sightseeing outside. The King thought: “Now that Udayin is his companion, if the Prince goes on an excursion, matters will surely be different from before. I need not fear that the Prince will become weary of the world and wish to renounce the household life.” Thinking thus, the King consented and again summoned the officials to issue orders:

“The Prince now wishes to go sightseeing outside the city once more, and I cannot bear to refuse him. On the previous two occasions, when the Prince went out through the eastern and southern gates, he encountered an old man and a sick man, became sorrowful, and turned his carriage back. Now that he will go through the western gate, I fear he may again encounter something distressing. However, with Udayin as his close companion, I hope matters will be different from before. Have the roads, groves, gardens, terraces, and pavilions prepared and magnificently adorned. Arrange more banners, canopies, incense, and flowers than on the previous occasions, and under no circumstances allow the old or sick to appear on the road.”

The King also had a troupe of beautiful courtesans go ahead to the flower garden, and he further instructed Udayin:

“If anything distressing appears along the way, you must use your powers of debate to ensure that the Prince no longer grieves.”

The King further commanded the accompanying officials to remain constantly vigilant and, if they saw any ugly old person, to drive that person away to another place immediately.

Then the Prince, Udayin, and the attending officials burned incense, scattered flowers, and played music as they departed through the western gate. At that moment, a deity of the Pure Abodes thought: “On the previous two occasions, I transformed myself into an old man and a sick man whom everyone could see, causing King Suddhodana angrily to reprimand the officials. Now I shall manifest a dead man whom only the Prince and Udayin can see, so that the officials will not be reprimanded and punished.” Having thought this, the deity of the Pure Abodes transformed himself into a corpse borne on a cart by four men. Incense burned and flowers were scattered over the corpse, while relatives, young and old, wept as they followed in the funeral procession.

When the Prince saw this scene, he asked Udayin:

“What is that object over which incense and flowers have been scattered, and why are people weeping as they accompany it?”

Because of the King’s command, Udayin remained silent and did not answer. The Prince asked him three times. Then the deity of the Pure Abodes used his spiritual power to cause Udayin to blurt out involuntarily:

“That is a dead man.”

The Prince asked again:

“What is meant by death?”

Udayin replied:

“Death means that the physical body is no more, strength and consciousness depart from the body, the faculties cease to function, and one no longer knows anything. While alive in the world, that man was attached to the five desires. He labored painfully and knew only how to accumulate and safeguard wealth, unaware that when impermanence arrived, he would have to die. In an instant, he abandoned everything and caused his parents, relatives, and kin to suffer grief. After a person dies, he is like grass and wood; bonds of affection, whether favorable or unfavorable, concern him no longer. Truly, death is lamentable.”

Startled, the Prince asked Udayin:

“Does that man alone die, or must everyone die?”

Udayin replied:

“All living beings in this world must undergo the same. Whether noble and wealthy or poor and lowly, no one can escape it.”

The Prince was naturally calm and composed, yet after hearing this, he too felt deeply troubled. He said softly to Udayin:

“The world also contains the suffering of death. Why, then, do people dwelling amid such suffering still remain heedless, their hearts like wood and stone, knowing no fear?”

Having said this, he ordered the driver to turn the carriage back. The driver replied:

“On the previous two excursions, we turned back midway, causing His Majesty to become extremely angry and reprimand us. How could we dare turn back today?”

Udayin then said to the driver:

“If you dare not turn back, then drive on to the flower garden.”

When the Prince and the procession arrived, the garden had already been prepared and magnificently adorned with incense, flowers, and canopies, and music was being played. The beautiful courtesans, resembling celestial maidens, came before the Prince, moving gracefully as they sang and danced in order to stir his heart. Yet the Prince’s mind remained serene and unmoved. He ordered his attendants to remain outside, then went alone and sat upright in contemplation beneath the cool shade of a tree in the garden. The Prince recalled how, on a previous occasion beneath the shade of the jambu tree, he had entered meditative concentration, become free from thoughts of sensual desire, and attained the fourth dhyana. At that moment, Udayin approached the Prince and said:

“The king commanded me to befriend the Crown Prince and never leave his side so that I might counsel him. Friendship entails three things: first, when one sees a friend doing wrong, one must admonish him; second, when one sees a friend doing something good, one rejoices with him; third, when danger arises, one does not abandon him. I now beg to speak sincerely, and I hope the Crown Prince will not rebuke me.

Kings from ancient times to the present have first enjoyed the pleasures of the five desires and only afterward renounced the household life. Why, then, is the Crown Prince determined to sever all ties with the world? I beseech the Crown Prince to follow the example of those of old and not resolve to abandon the throne to pursue the Way.

Please continue to enjoy the five desires and beget a son so that the royal lineage will not come to an end.”

The Crown Prince replied:

“According to what you have said, what have I done to harm the kingdom? I say that there is no joy in the five desires because I fear the cycle of birth and death and therefore do not become intoxicated by them. You say that the kings of old first enjoyed the five desires and only afterward renounced the household life—but where have those kings now been reborn? Because they were infatuated with the five desires, they fell into hell, or among hungry ghosts or animals, or were reborn in the realms of devas and humans, revolving through them in suffering. It is precisely for this reason that I wish to seek a way to leave birth, aging, sickness, and death far behind. Why, then, do you now urge me to enjoy those desires?”

At that time, although Udayin was a gifted orator, he was still unable to persuade the Crown Prince and could only return to his seat. The Crown Prince ordered the carriage prepared and returned to the palace. The palace women and Udayin were deeply grieved; their sorrowful countenances were no different from those of people mourning a loved one. Upon reaching the palace, the Crown Prince appeared even more sorrowful than on previous occasions. King Suddhodana immediately summoned Udayin and asked:

“Why did the Crown Prince take no pleasure in today’s excursion?”

Udayin replied:

“Not far beyond the city, the Crown Prince and I saw from a distance a dead man who had come from we knew not where. The Crown Prince asked what it was, and without thinking I replied that it was a dead man.”

The king then questioned the other officials and soldiers in the retinue:

“Did you see a dead man outside the western city gate?”

Everyone in the company replied:

“We did not see one.”

Hearing this, the king suddenly understood and thought to himself, “Only the Crown Prince and Udayin saw him. This was brought about by the power of the devas and was not the fault of the officials. Surely it is just as the seer Asita foretold.” At this thought, the king became deeply distressed and increased the number of female entertainers attending the Crown Prince. Every day, the king sent someone to console him:

“The kingdom belongs to the Crown Prince. Why do you remain sorrowful and without joy?” The king also commanded the female entertainers to use every means, day and night, to delight the Crown Prince.

Although the king knew that this was the power of the devas and that human beings could scarcely oppose it, his profound love for his son made it impossible for him not to try to prevent the Crown Prince from leaving. The king thought to himself, “The Crown Prince has already gone sightseeing through three city gates. Surely he will next ask to go out through the northern gate.

I must command that the park north of the capital be cleared and adorned so that it is twice as brilliant, majestic, and splendid as on previous occasions, and no unpleasant sight is allowed to appear there.” Having thought this, the king ordered his officials to carry out the arrangements to perfection. He again prayed inwardly, “Today, as the Crown Prince goes sightseeing through the northern gate, I beseech the devas not to manifest any inauspicious sight that might cause him sorrow.” After praying, the king commanded the charioteer that if the Crown Prince went beyond the city to sightsee, he was to ensure that the Crown Prince saw only the people’s prosperous, beautiful, and splendid surroundings.

Once again, the Crown Prince asked to go outside the city on an excursion. Unable to refuse him, the king ordered Udayin and the officials to escort the Crown Prince through the northern gate. When the company reached the park, the Crown Prince dismounted, left his attendants outside, and went to sit peacefully beneath the shade of a tree, contemplating deeply the sufferings of aging, sickness, and death in life. At that time, a deva prince from the Suddhavasa Heaven transformed himself into a bhiksu. Clad in Dharma robes, carrying an alms bowl and holding a khakkhara staff, with eyes gently lowered toward the ground, he walked before the Crown Prince. Upon seeing him, the Crown Prince asked:

“Who are you?”

The bhiksu replied:

“I am a bhiksu.”

The Crown Prince asked:

“What is meant by ‘bhiksu’?”

He replied:

“A bhiksu is one who has vanquished the bandits of the fetters—the afflictions—and will not take on another body; therefore, he is called a bhiksu. Everything in the world is impermanent and illusory. The path I cultivate is the undefiled Noble Path. I am not infatuated with forms, sounds, fragrances, tastes, tactile objects, or dharmas. I attain complete awakening and reach the shore of liberation.”

Having spoken, the transformed bhiksu displayed spiritual powers directly before the Crown Prince, rose into the air, and departed. At that moment, all the attending officials and soldiers saw him.

After seeing that bhiksu and hearing clearly of the merit of renouncing the household life, the Crown Prince—whose heart had already grown weary of worldly desires—cried aloud:

“Excellent! Excellent! In the realms of devas and humans, this path alone is supreme. I am determined to cultivate and study this path.”

Having said this, the Crown Prince ordered the charioteer to turn back toward the city. At that time, the Crown Prince’s heart was filled with joy, and he thought to himself, “Previously, when I saw the sufferings of aging, sickness, and death, I feared day and night that they would press upon me. Now I have encountered this bhiksu, who has brought me understanding and clearly revealed the path of liberation.” Thinking thus, the Crown Prince constantly sought a way to renounce the household life.

When the company returned to the palace, King Suddhodana immediately asked Udayin:

“Did the Crown Prince enjoy his excursion beyond the city today?”

Udayin replied:

“The Crown Prince encountered nothing inauspicious along the way. After entering the park, he went alone to sit beneath the shade of a tree. From a distance, he then saw a man whose beard and hair had been shaved off and whose body was clad in a kasaya robe. The man approached the Crown Prince and conversed with him. When their conversation ended, he rose into the air and departed. No one knows what they said to one another. Afterward, the Crown Prince ordered the charioteer to return. At that time, the Crown Prince’s face was filled with joy, but upon returning to the palace, he became sorrowful.”

When King Suddhodana heard Udayin’s report, doubt arose in his heart. Not knowing what this omen meant, he grew even more troubled and thought to himself, “The Crown Prince will surely abandon his home to pursue the Way. Moreover, he has long been married but has no son. I must tell Yasodhara what she must do; otherwise, there will be no heir to the throne. I must also take precautions lest the Crown Prince leave without our knowing when.” Having thought this, the king conveyed these concerns to Yasodhara. Hearing the king’s words, Yasodhara was ashamed and remained silent. From then on, whether walking, standing, lying down, or sitting, she never left the Crown Prince’s side. Meanwhile, the king ordered that exceedingly beautiful palace women be selected to delight the Crown Prince.

When the Crown Prince was nineteen years old, he reflected, “Now is indeed the time for me to renounce the household life and undertake cultivation.” Having thought this, he went to his royal father with a serene and majestic bearing, like Sakra, Lord of the Devas, going to meet Brahma. When the attending officials saw the Crown Prince approaching, they hurried inside to announce him to the king. Upon hearing the report, the king felt half joyful and half anxious. The Crown Prince drew near and bowed his head in homage to his royal father. The king immediately raised him up and invited him to sit. After sitting down, the Crown Prince said to his royal father:

“Where affection brings people together, separation must follow. I humbly beseech my royal father to permit me to renounce the household life and pursue the Way. All people suffer greatly when they must part from those they love. I now wish to enable everyone to attain liberation. I beseech my royal father to grant his permission and not hinder me.”

When King Suddhodana heard the Crown Prince’s words, his heart was filled with anguish, as though Mount Vajra had toppled all the other mountains. His entire body trembled, and he could not remain seated steadily. The King took the Crown Prince’s hand, his eyes brimming with tears, unable to utter a word. Only after a long while did he speak in a choked voice:

“Son, you should abandon your intention to renounce the household life. Why? Because you are still young, and the kingdom has no heir. Now your father has only you; how can you bear to forsake me and depart?”

Seeing his royal father grieving and weeping, unwilling to consent, the Crown Prince returned to his palace. Thinking about renouncing the household life, he became sorrowful and unhappy.

At that time, all the skilled physiognomists in the city of Kapilavastu predicted that if the Crown Prince did not renounce the household life within seven days, he would ascend the throne as a wheel-turning sage king, ruling the four continents beneath heaven, and the seven treasures would spontaneously appear. They immediately went to report to the King:

“The Sakya clan is now about to flourish.”

The King was delighted to hear this and immediately commanded the ministers and members of the Sakya clan, saying:

“Have you heard the prediction of the physiognomists? From now on, all of you must attend upon and guard the Crown Prince day and night. At each of the four city gates, station one thousand guards, and throughout the entire perimeter outside the city, station a military guard unit at every yojana.”

The King also commanded Yasodhara and the palace officials to strengthen the guard still further and, throughout the seven days, not allow the Crown Prince to renounce the household life. The King then went to the Crown Prince’s palace. When the Crown Prince saw his royal father arrive, he immediately came out to welcome him and inquire after his health. The King said to the Crown Prince:

“Formerly the seer Asita, and now the physiognomists as well, have said that you are certainly disinclined to live amid worldly circumstances. Yet continuing the ancestral line is of the utmost importance, and the royal clan must have an heir. Therefore, your father asks that you first give me a grandson and then renounce the household life. You should not go against your father’s wishes.”

After hearing his royal father’s words, the Crown Prince thought, “The reason my royal father will not allow me to renounce the household life is precisely that there is not yet an heir to the throne.” The Crown Prince then said to his royal father:

“Excellent indeed is my royal father’s instruction!”

The Crown Prince then pointed with his left hand at Yasodhara’s abdomen. A few days later, Yasodhara noticed that her body felt different and knew that she had conceived. Hearing the Crown Prince praise his command, the King was overjoyed, thinking that it would certainly be impossible for him to have a grandson immediately within the next seven days. If the seven-day period passed, the Crown Prince would naturally ascend the throne as a wheel-turning king and would surely no longer intend to renounce the household life.

At that time, the Crown Prince thought, “I am now nineteen years old. Today, the seventh day of the second month, is precisely the time for me to seek the path of renunciation. Moreover, the King’s wish has already been fulfilled.” Having thought thus, the Crown Prince emitted rays of light from his body, illuminating the palaces of the Four Heavenly Kings and reaching as far as the Heaven of the Pure Abodes, yet he did not allow those in the human realm to see them. When the devas saw this light, they knew that the time had come for the Crown Prince to renounce the household life. They descended to where he was, bowed reverently, joined their palms, and said:

“For immeasurable kalpas, you have made vows and cultivated the path. Now the time has come for you to renounce the household life.”

The Crown Prince replied:

“It is just as you have said. The time has now come for me to renounce the household life, but my royal father has ordered officials and soldiers to be stationed from within the palace to beyond the city, guarding everything carefully. It will be very difficult to leave.”

The devas said:

“We shall devise a way for the Crown Prince to leave the city without anyone knowing.”

The devas then used their spiritual powers to cause the officials and soldiers to fall into a deep sleep. At that time, while asleep, Yasodhara dreamed of three omens: first, she saw the moon fall to the earth; second, she saw her teeth fall out; and third, she saw that she had lost her right arm. Yasodhara awoke with a start, exceedingly frightened, and told the Crown Prince:

“I have just had three ominous dreams.”

The Crown Prince asked:

“What did you see in your dreams?”

Yasodhara recounted those dreams. The Crown Prince said:

“The moon is still in the sky, your teeth are still there, and how have you lost your arm? You should understand that dreams are all unreal and should not be afraid.”

Yasodhara hastily said:

“From the omens in those dreams, I fear only that the Crown Prince will renounce the household life.”

The Crown Prince immediately reassured her:

“Sleep peacefully and do not worry about this. Nothing bad will befall you.”

Hearing this, Yasodhara put her mind at ease and went back to sleep. The Crown Prince then rose from his seat and looked upon the maidservants and Yasodhara, who lay deeply asleep and motionless like wooden figures, or like the hollow, insubstantial trunk of a plantain tree. Some slept clutching their bedding, with their arms and legs hanging down to the floor; others slept so deeply that fluids from their eyes, noses, and mouths overflowed.

The Crown Prince then contemplated inwardly and clearly perceived that those beautiful forms consisted of hair, fingernails and toenails, brain and marrow, bones and teeth, skull, skin, fat, flesh, blood, pus, heart, liver, lungs, large intestine, small intestine, kidneys, gallbladder, and so forth, together with impure substances such as feces, urine, phlegm, and saliva. All these impurities were enclosed within a layer of skin; there was nothing beautiful about them.

Yet people applied perfumes and flowers to them and adorned them with jewelry. This body is like something borrowed that must ultimately be lost; it cannot endure for long. If a person lives for a hundred years, half that time is lost in sleep, while the remainder is filled with suffering, sorrow, and distress, with only rare moments of happiness.

People in the world constantly witness this, yet why do they not awaken? Instead, they remain infatuated with sensual desire. I must now renounce the household life and cultivate the path followed by the Buddhas of old, so that I may swiftly escape this calamity, like fleeing from a burning house.

The Crown Prince reflected in this way until midnight. Then a heavenly king from the Heaven of the Pure Abodes and devas from the heavens of the Desire Realm appeared throughout the sky and said in unison to the Crown Prince:

“Now all the officials, soldiers, and attendants, both within and without, have fallen into a deep sleep. This is precisely the time for you to renounce the household life.”

The Crown Prince then went to where Chandaka was. Through the spiritual power of the devas, as soon as the Crown Prince called his name, Chandaka awoke. The Crown Prince commanded:

“Saddle the horse Kanthaka and lead him here to me.”

At that moment, Chandaka’s entire body trembled with fear. His heart wavered, for he did not wish to disobey the Crown Prince, yet he also feared the King’s strict command. After pondering for a long while, he wept and said:

“The King’s command is extremely strict. Moreover, this is neither the time for an excursion nor the time to repel enemy forces. In the stillness of this night, where does the Crown Prince wish me to saddle the horse and take you?”

The Crown Prince said:

“I now wish to eradicate all the fetters and afflictions of every sentient being. Therefore, you must not go against my wishes.”

Chandaka then wept loudly, intending to awaken Yasodhara, together with the officials, soldiers, and attendants. Yet through the spiritual power of the devas, everyone remained deeply asleep, and no one knew anything. Chandaka had no choice but to lead the horse forward. The Crown Prince approached and said to Chandaka and the horse Kanthaka:

“Wherever there is affection, every meeting must end in separation. This is the natural law of the world. Were it otherwise, renunciation of the household life would be difficult to accomplish.”

Hearing these words, Chandaka remained silent and said nothing. Kanthaka likewise uttered no neigh.

Seeing that dawn was near, the Crown Prince emitted rays of light from his body, illuminating the ten directions, and proclaimed in a majestic voice like the roar of a lion:

“As the Buddhas of the past renounced the household life, so shall I now do likewise.”

The devas immediately lifted the horse’s four hooves together with Chandaka, while Lord Shakra followed holding a parasol. The devas caused the northern gate of the city to open by itself without making a sound. The Prince departed from the city, and the devas followed behind, singing his praises. At that moment, the Prince raised his mighty voice like a lion and proclaimed this vow:

“If I do not put an end to birth, aging, sickness, death, suffering, sorrow, and distress for the entire world, I shall never return to the palace for the rest of my life. If I do not attain unsurpassed perfect enlightenment, turn the Dharma wheel, and liberate sentient beings, I shall not return to see my royal father. If I do not sever the bonds of affectionate attachment, I shall never again meet my aunt Mahaprajapati or Yashodhara.”

As soon as the Prince had uttered this vow, the devas in the sky praised him in unison:

“Excellent! This vow will certainly be fulfilled.”

By daybreak, the Prince had traveled three yojanas. The devas who had accompanied him thus far saw that their task was complete and immediately disappeared.

Thereafter, the Prince continued onward until he reached the forest where the seer Bhargava was practicing austerities. Seeing that the forest was peaceful and secluded, the Prince rejoiced greatly; his body and mind became serene and at ease. He dismounted, patted Kanthaka on the back, and comforted him:

“You have overcome the most difficult part of the journey.”

The Prince then said to Chandaka:

“Kanthaka runs as swiftly as the garuda, king of birds, and you have always followed me without ever leaving my side. I have reflected that, in this world, some people have kind hearts though outwardly they appear harsh; others outwardly seem gentle, yet their hearts are otherwise. But with you, heart and conduct do not contradict one another. In this world, some people cling throughout their lives because they covet wealth and honor. Now I have abandoned the kingdom and come to this forest, and you alone have followed me; this is truly rare. Now that I have reached this quiet and secluded place, you should lead Kanthaka back to the palace.”

When Chandaka heard the Prince say this, he wept so bitterly that he collapsed to the ground. Kanthaka knelt on his two forelegs, lowered his head, and licked the Prince’s feet as streams of tears poured from his eyes. Chandaka said:

“How can I now obey the Prince’s command? I have disobeyed the King’s orders by saddling the horse and bringing the Prince here. The King and Lady Mahaprajapati will surely suffer greatly upon losing the Prince, and the palace will be thrown into turmoil because of your departure. Moreover, this deep forest is perilous, filled with ferocious beasts, venomous creatures, and countless other dangers. How could I bear to leave the Prince and return alone to the palace?”

The Prince replied:

“When I was born, I came alone, and when I die, I shall surely go alone. What companions could I have? Furthermore, there are four great sufferings in life—birth, aging, sickness, and death. How could I befriend them? It is precisely because I wish to eradicate these sufferings forever that I have come here. After I have brought suffering to an end, I shall be a friend to all sentient beings. But now, while I have not yet escaped suffering, how can I be your companion?”

Chandaka again said:

“From birth until now, the Prince has always dwelt within the royal palace. Your body, hands, and feet are all soft and delicate; you have slept and rested upon comfortable beds and cushions and never experienced the slightest discomfort. Now, suddenly, you would dwell amid the mountains, lie upon thorns and stones, and sit beneath the shade of trees. How could you endure it?”

The Prince said to Chandaka:

“It is just as you say. In the palace, I never had to lie upon thorns. But could I thereby escape the suffering of birth, aging, sickness, and death?”

Hearing the Prince speak thus, Chandaka could only stand silently, speechless, tears streaming down his face and his heart filled with immeasurable anguish.

The Prince then went to Chandaka and took the precious sword. Raising his majestic voice like the roar of a lion, he said:

“When the Buddhas of the past attained unsurpassed perfect enlightenment, they cast aside their ornaments and shaved their hair and beard. Now I too must act in accordance with the Dharma of the Buddhas.”

Having said this, the Prince removed his crown and the jewel from his topknot, gave them to Chandaka, and instructed him:

“Take this crown and jewel back to my royal father. Kneel at his feet and report: ‘I have not left because I wish to be reborn in a heavenly realm and enjoy its pleasures. Nor am I an unfilial son, and I have not departed out of anger or resentment.

I have left solely because I have grown weary of, and wish to end, the suffering of birth, aging, sickness, and death. You should rejoice in my joy and regard this as an auspicious event; do not grieve. If my father says that it is not yet the proper time for me to renounce the household life, repeat my words to him: sickness, aging, and death appoint no date; even the young and strong cannot escape them.

If the King reproaches me for leaving the palace to renounce the household life without first having a child or reporting the matter to him, inform my royal father that Yashodhara is already pregnant; if the King asks her, he will learn the truth. Previously, my royal father himself issued such an instruction; I did not act solely on my own. In ancient times, wheel-turning sage-kings abandoned their palaces and entered the forests to cultivate the path; none returned midway to indulge again in the five sensual pleasures.

My renunciation is likewise. Until I attain bodhi, I shall not return to the palace. As for all my relatives, both within and beyond the royal household, who cherish affection for me, comfort them on my behalf so that they may be free from grief and longing.’”

The Prince then removed the jeweled necklace from his body, handed it to Chandaka, and instructed him:

“Take this necklace back and present it to my aunt Mahaprajapati. Tell her that I have renounced the household life because I wish to liberate beings from the many sufferings of the world and fulfill this aspiration. Therefore, she should not grieve because of me.”

The Prince then removed all the remaining ornaments from his body, gave them to Chandaka, and told him to take them back and present them to Yashodhara, comforting her as well: “In this world, separation from those one loves is suffering. Now, because I wish to end suffering, I have renounced the household life to train in the path. Do not grieve because of me.” The same was to be said to his relatives.

After hearing this, Chandaka’s heart became even more sorrowful. Yet, unable to disobey the Prince’s command, he knelt and received the crown, jeweled necklace, and other ornaments. With tears welling in his eyes, he said:

“When I hear the Prince’s aspiration, my entire body trembles. Even those whose hearts were like wood or stone would be moved upon hearing these words, much less I, who have attended upon the Prince for so many years. Now, hearing such words, how could my heart not ache?

I beg the Prince to abandon this resolve so that the King, Lady Mahaprajapati, the chief consort Yashodhara, and all the other members of the royal family may be spared sorrow and suffering. If the Prince is determined not to change his mind, then please do not abandon me. I now vow to follow in the Prince’s footsteps and never leave him for the rest of my life.

If I return to the palace, the King will surely rebuke me, asking why I left the Prince alone in the deserted forest and came back. What could I possibly report to the King?”

The Prince replied:

“You should not speak so. In this world, there is always separation; people cannot remain together forever. Only seven days after I was born, my mother passed away. Even mother and child must part, how much more so others? Do not cling to me alone. You should return to the royal palace with Kanthaka.”

The Prince gave the command a second time, but Chandaka still refused to depart.

The Prince then used the sword to shave off his own hair and beard and proclaimed this vow:

“Now, as I cut away my hair and beard, I vow to eradicate all afflictions and every obstructive habitual tendency.”

Lord Shakra immediately received the hair and carried it away. The devas in the sky burned incense, scattered flowers, and praised him in unison:

“Excellent! Truly auspicious! The Prince has shaved off his hair and beard.”

At that time, looking down at his own body, he saw that he was still wearing garments adorned with the seven precious substances. The Prince thought, “When the Buddhas of the past renounced the household life, they could not have dressed like this.” A deva of the Pure Abodes knew his thought and transformed himself into a hunter wearing a kasaya, then came before the Prince. Seeing him, the Prince was exceedingly delighted and said to the hunter:

“The robe you are wearing is the pure garment worn by the Buddhas of the past. Why do you wear this robe while committing evil deeds?”

The hunter replied:

“I wear the kasaya to lure herds of deer. When they see the kasaya, they all come close to me, and then I am able to shoot them.”

The Prince said:

“According to what you say, you wear the kasaya only because you wish to kill the deer, not because you seek liberation. I shall now exchange this garment adorned with the seven precious substances for yours. I shall wear the kasaya solely because I wish to eradicate the afflictions and liberate all sentient beings.”

The hunter immediately said:

“Excellent! I shall respectfully comply with your wish.”

The two then exchanged garments. When the Prince put on the kasaya, he resembled the Buddhas of the past. The deva of the Pure Abodes then resumed his celestial form, rose into the sky, and returned to his heavenly palace. At that moment, a wondrous radiance appeared in the sky. Channa saw it and marveled, praising it as something never before witnessed, for such an auspicious sign was no ordinary event.

When Channa saw that the Prince had shaved off his hair and beard and donned the Dharma robe, he knew clearly that the Prince would never change his resolve. His heart became even more anguished, and he was so overcome with sorrow that he once again collapsed to the ground. The Prince consoled him:

“You should restrain your grief and lamentation. Return to the city and inform everyone of my intention.”

Having said this, the Prince walked calmly onward. Channa sobbed and wept, bowing toward the Prince until he could no longer see him. Only then did he rise, trembling as he looked at Kanthaka and the ornaments the Prince had left behind. His heart grew still more sorrowful and full of longing, and tears streamed down his face. With one hand he led the horse and with the other carried the ornaments. Both man and horse, filled with sadness, followed the same road back to the capital.

Meanwhile, the Prince had arrived at the place where the sage Bhargava practiced. When the birds and beasts in the forest saw the Prince, they stared without blinking and remained motionless, neither flying nor fleeing. Seeing the Prince from afar, the sage Bhargava thought, “What deity is that? Could it be the god of the sun or moon, or perhaps Sakra, Lord of the Devas?” The sage and his companions hurried forth to welcome the Prince with great reverence, saying:

“Welcome, Worthy One.”

Seeing that the ascetics were gentle in nature and humble in demeanor, the Prince approached them. All the ascetics were impressed by the Prince’s majestic and dignified appearance, and together they invited him to sit. After he was seated, the Prince observed their methods of practice. He saw some who made garments from grass; others who used tree bark or leaves as clothing. Some ate only vegetables and fruit. Some ate one meal a day, while others ate once every two or three days. They practiced such austerities to worship the gods of water and fire, or the sun and moon. Some stood on one bent leg; some lay continually upon the ground; others lay upon thorns or beside water and fire. Seeing such forms of ascetic practice, the Prince asked the sage Bhargava:

“Your practice of such austerities is indeed extraordinary, but what do you seek to attain through them?”

The sage replied:

“We practice these austerities because we wish to be reborn in the heavenly realms.”

The Prince asked again:

“Although devas experience pleasure, when their merit is exhausted, they still revolve through the six realms and ultimately continue to suffer. Why do you cultivate painful causes in order to enjoy a result that also ends in suffering?”

The Prince was saddened and thought to himself, “Merchants enter the perilous ocean because they wish to obtain precious treasures. Kings send armies into battle because they wish to expand their territories. These ascetics now practice austerities because they wish to ascend to the heavenly realms.” After thinking this, the Prince stood silently without speaking. Seeing the Prince remain silent, the ascetic Bhargava asked:

“Worthy One, what is your view? Why do you remain silent and say

nothing? Is our method of practice perhaps incorrect?”

The Prince replied:

“You have chosen an exceedingly painful path of practice in pursuit of blessed rewards, yet in the end you still cannot escape suffering.”

The Prince discussed these matters with the ascetics until evening, and that night he slept there. At daybreak, the Prince thought, “These sages have chosen the path of asceticism, but it is not the true path of liberation. Therefore, I should not remain here.” The Prince then took leave of the sages. The sages asked:

“Worthy One, when you came here, we were all delighted, and your presence increased our prestige. Why do you now suddenly wish to go elsewhere, thereby diminishing our prestige? Has anyone among us offended you? Or is there some other reason why you will not remain?”

The Prince replied:

“It is not that you have shown any discourtesy in the relations between hosts and guest. Rather, your method of practice only causes suffering to increase. I am now seeking the Path because I wish to eradicate suffering at its very root; therefore, I wish to go elsewhere.”

The ascetics said among themselves:

“His path of practice is truly vast and exalted. How could we possibly keep him here?”

At that time, among the ascetics was one skilled in physiognomy, who said to the others:

“This Worthy One possesses all the excellent marks. He will certainly attain knowledge of all modes and become the Teacher of devas and humans.”

Hearing this, the ascetics came together before the Prince and said:

“Because our paths of practice differ, we dare not ask you to remain. If you wish to depart, you should travel north. There dwell two great sages named Arada and Kalama. Worthy One, you should go there and discuss the Path with those great sages. Yet we think that you will not remain there for long either.”

After hearing this, the Prince took his leave and traveled north. The ascetics were deeply saddened to see him depart, so they joined their palms and accompanied him for some distance. They watched until he disappeared from sight and only then returned.

From the time the Prince left the royal palace until evening, Yasodhara and the palace women remained asleep. When they awoke and could not find the Prince, they were all terrified and began to lament and weep. They hurried to report to Lady Mahaprajapati:

“This morning, the Prince suddenly could not be found anywhere.”

When his foster mother heard this, she was horrified and distraught. She collapsed to the ground and fainted, regaining and losing consciousness several times. When she revived, she hurried to the king and reported the news.

After hearing it, the king sat in silence, unable to utter a word, his entire body limp as though he had lost his soul. Everyone both inside and outside the palace was devastated upon hearing the news. At that time, the ministers and high officials hurried to the Prince’s palace and searched throughout the capital.

When they reached the northern city gate, they saw that it had opened by itself. Moreover, neither Chandaka nor the horse Kanthaka was anywhere to be seen. They asked the officials in charge who had opened the gate, but everyone said that they did not know.

Even the gatekeeper did not know why it had opened by itself. The high ministers thought, “Since the northern gate is open, the Prince must certainly have departed through it. We must hurry and find him.” They immediately dispatched one thousand chariots and ten thousand cavalrymen to search in all four directions.

Yet through the divine power of the devas, no one could discover the road the Prince had taken. They returned and reported to the king that they had searched everywhere for the Prince but had not found him.

Meanwhile, Chandaka was walking on foot, leading the horse Kanthaka and carrying the Prince’s precious ornaments. Weeping as he went, he made his way toward the city gate. When the inhabitants of the villages along the road saw him, they were greatly astonished. Grief-stricken, they all ran up together and asked Chandaka:

“Where did you take the Prince? Why are only you and the horse Kanthaka returning today?”

When Chandaka heard their questions, his sorrow deepened, and he was unable to speak. The people saw that Kanthaka was adorned with a magnificent saddle and harness made of the seven precious substances, yet the Prince was nowhere to be seen. It was like beautiful flowers adorning a corpse.

As Chandaka entered the city, Kanthaka suddenly uttered a sorrowful neigh, causing all the horses in the stables to neigh loudly as well. The officials outside hurried into the palace and informed Lady Mahaprajapati and the chief consort Yasodhara that only Chandaka and the horse Kanthaka had returned. On hearing this, the two were overwhelmed with anguish and thought, “Why have we been told that Chandaka and the horse Kanthaka have returned, yet heard nothing of the Prince?” Lady Mahaprajapati lamented:

“I raised the Prince from infancy until he reached adulthood, yet in a mere instant he has abandoned me, and I do not know where he has gone. It is like ripe fruit falling from its branch, or like a starving person who encounters a sumptuous meal and is just about to eat when all of it is suddenly cast away.”

Yasodhara also cried out in anguish:

“Whether walking, standing, lying down, or sitting, I was never a single step apart from the Prince. Now he has suddenly abandoned me, and I do not know where he has gone. When kings of ancient times renounced their thrones and entered the mountains to cultivate the Way, they took their wives and children with them, unable to bear separation. People in this world who have met and become acquainted only once still do not forget each other when they part. The loving bond between husband and wife is inherently deep and profound; how, then, could he be so heartless?”

The princess turned and berated Chandaka:

“It is better to be the enemy of a wise person than the kin of a fool. You are a foolish and benighted man! To what place did you secretly take the Prince, causing the Sakya clan to be prosperous no longer?”

She also reproached the horse Kanthaka:

“You carried the Prince away from the palace. Why did you make no sound when you were about to depart, yet now that you have returned alone, you neigh so sorrowfully?”

Chandaka replied:

“Please, my ladies, do not blame me or the horse Kanthaka. This occurred through the divine power of the devas and was not something wrought by human beings. That night, while my ladies and all the palace women were sleeping soundly, the Prince ordered me to saddle the horse.

I loudly remonstrated with the Prince, intending thereby to awaken my ladies and the palace women. Yet even when I saddled Kanthaka, no one heard. In the past, whenever the city gate was opened, the sound could be heard forty li away, but on that occasion it opened wide by itself without making the slightest sound.

Were such events not caused by the divine power of the devas? When we had left the city, the devas raised the horse’s hooves, together with me, and bore us through the air. Countless devas also accompanied us.

How, then, could I have prevented him? By the first light of dawn, the Prince had traveled three yojanas and reached the dwelling of the ascetic Bhargava, where further wondrous events occurred. Please listen as I recount them.

When the Prince reached the forest where the seer Bhargava was practicing austerities, he dismounted, patted Kanthaka on the back, and ordered me to return to the palace. I continued following the Prince and refused to return. The Prince was determined not to let me remain.

He drew his precious sword and declared that all Buddhas of the past, wishing to attain unsurpassed, perfect enlightenment, had cast aside their precious ornaments and cut off their hair and beard, and that he would now follow the example of those past Buddhas. Having said this, he removed his crown and gave me its radiant jewel, telling me to take them back and present them to the king. He also gave me his jeweled necklace to present to his foster mother and instructed me to give his other ornaments to my lady.

Although I heard him urge me to leave, my heart was unwilling to return. The Prince then used his sword to cut off his own hair and beard, and devas came to receive the hair and carry it away. After the Prince had gone a short distance farther, he encountered a hunter and exchanged his own robe adorned with the seven precious substances for the kasaya robe worn by the hunter.

At that moment, a great radiance appeared in the sky. When I saw that the Prince had changed his clothing, I knew clearly that he was resolute and would never return, and my heart was overwhelmed with pain. The Prince proceeded to the place where the seer Bhargava was cultivating, and I had no choice but to bid him farewell and return.

All these extraordinary events were brought about through the divine power of the devas. How could human beings have accomplished them? Therefore, I implore my ladies not to blame me or Kanthaka.”

After Lady Mahaprajapati and Yasodhara heard Chandaka recount these extraordinary events, their minds gained some measure of understanding, and they remained silent. When the king’s anguish and sorrow had somewhat subsided, he summoned Chandaka and questioned him:

“Why have you brought such suffering upon the Sakya clan? I issued strict orders that everyone inside and outside the palace guard the Prince, precisely because I feared that he would renounce the household life. Why, then, did you secretly saddle Kanthaka and depart with the Prince?”

Trembling with fear upon hearing the king’s rebuke, Chandaka hastily replied:

“The Prince’s departure from the royal city was not my fault. I beg Your Majesty to hear the entire account from beginning to end.”

After saying this, Chandaka placed the precious crown and radiant jewel at the king’s feet and said:

“The Prince instructed me to bring this crown and radiant jewel back and present them to Your Majesty. The jeweled necklace was to be presented to his foster mother, and the other ornaments were to be given to the chief consort Yasodhara.”

When the king saw these objects, his grief and longing for the Prince became even more unbearable. Even wood and stone would have been moved, much less a father bound to his son by such deep affection. Chandaka recounted to the king everything that had occurred and reported:

“The Prince instructed me: ‘If the great king says that I should have produced an heir before renouncing the household life and asks why I have done so when I have no son, tell His Majesty that before my departure I did not make clear to him that the chief consort Yasodhara was already with child. His Majesty should ask her. His Majesty formerly made such a promise, and I have now acted in accordance with it; I did not depart on my own authority.’”

Upon hearing this, the king summoned Yasodhara and asked:

“The Prince says that you are with child. Is this truly so?”

Yasodhara replied to the king:

“On the day Your Majesty came to the palace, the Prince pointed at me with his hand. I immediately felt something unusual within my body and thus knew that I had conceived.”

When the king heard this, he was astonished, and the sorrow in his heart diminished somewhat. He thought to himself: “At that time, I made such a promise because I believed that there was no way she could conceive a child within only seven days, and thus the position of a wheel-turning monarch would naturally come to him. I never expected that, before the seven days had passed, Yasodhara would indeed become pregnant. This was truly my fault for lacking wisdom. Because I wished to find a way to make the Crown Prince remain, I made such a promise, and now I regret it all the more. The Crown Prince’s wisdom and resourcefulness surpass what others can foresee. Moreover, this matter was aided by the spiritual power of the devas. I should not blame Chandaka now.”

The king reflected that the Crown Prince was determined not to return, and therefore, no matter what means might be employed, it would be impossible to bring him back. Although the Crown Prince had renounced the household life to study the Way, there was now an heir, so there was no fear that the royal lineage would come to an end. What was needed at present was to instruct Yasodhara to take careful care of the child in her womb.

Because King Suddhodana’s affection between father and son was so profound, he said to Chandaka:

-I am now determined to go in search of the Crown Prince, but I do not know where he is. The Crown Prince has left me to study the Way; how can I possibly live alone? I must go and find him.

At that time, the royal preceptor and a chief minister heard that the king wished to go in search of the Crown Prince, and they immediately came to dissuade him:

-Great King, do not grieve excessively. From what we have seen of the Crown Prince’s marks and appearance, he must surely have renounced the household life and cultivated the Way throughout many lifetimes in the past. He desires not even the position of Sakra, much less that of a wheel-turning monarch; how, then, could such a position make the Crown Prince remain?

Does the Great King not remember that, when the Crown Prince was newly born, he walked seven steps, pointed upward, and declared: “I shall undergo no further rebirth. This is my final body.” At that time, the devas Brahma and Sakra all came to offer their congratulations. Having displayed such wonders, how could the Crown Prince still cherish attachment to the worldly realm?

Moreover, the sage Asita once examined the Crown Prince’s marks and declared with certainty that, at the age of nineteen, the Crown Prince would renounce the household life to study the Way and would attain the Wisdom of All Modes. Everything that has occurred today accords with that prediction. Why, then, does the Great King still grieve so deeply?

Furthermore, the Great King previously issued strict orders to the officers and soldiers within and outside the city to guard the Crown Prince, fearing that he would renounce the household life. Yet the devas came and escorted the Crown Prince out of the city. Since this was so, how could human strength have prevented it?

Therefore, we beseech the Great King to rejoice, not to continue harboring sorrow, and not to depart in search of the Crown Prince. If Your Majesty is concerned for the Crown Prince, we shall go and seek him to discover where he is now.

Upon hearing their counsel, the king reflected: “I know that the Crown Prince will not return. My heart cannot forget him, yet I am also unable to search for him myself. Therefore, I must now ask the royal preceptor and the chief minister to go and see.” Having thought this, the king replied:

-Excellent! You two ministers should set out and search for the Crown Prince on my behalf. Everyone within and outside the palace is grieving, so you must not delay.

The royal preceptor and the chief minister then bade farewell to the king and departed in search of the Crown Prince.