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The Buddhist Priest of
Chang-Ching
At Chang-ching there lived a Buddhist priest of exceptional
virtue and purity of conduct, who, though over eighty years of
age, was still hale and hearty. One day he fell down and could not
move; and when the other priests rushed to help him up, they
found he was already gone. The old priest was himself unconscious of death, and
his soul flew away to the borders of the province of Honan.
Now it chanced that the scion of an old family residing
in Honan had gone out that very day with some ten or a dozen followers
to hunt the hare with falcons; but his horse having run away
with him, he fell off and was killed.
Just at that moment the soul of the priest came by and
entered into the body, which thereupon gradually recovered
consciousness. The servants crowded round to ask him how he
felt, when opening his eyes wide, he cried out, "How did I
get here ?" They assisted him to rise, and led him into the
house, where all his ladies came to see him and inquire how
he did. In great amazement he said, "I am a Buddhist priest. How came I hither ?" His
servants thought he was wandering, and tried to recall him by
pulling his ears. As for himself, he could make nothing of it, and
closing his eyes, refrained from saying anything further.
For food he would only eat rice, refusing all wine and
meat; and avoided the society of his wives. After some days
he felt inclined for a stroll, at which all his family were delighted; but no
sooner had he got outside and stopped for a little rest than he was
besieged by servants begging him to take their accounts as usual.
However, he pleaded illness and want of strength, and not
wishing to tire him, they said no more.
He then took occasion to ask if they knew the district of
Chang-ching, and on being answered in the affirmative expressed
his intention of going thither for a trip, as he felt anxious about
those he had left to their own resources, at the same time bidding
the servants look after his affairs at home. They tried to dissuade
him from this on the ground of his having but recently risen from
a sick bed; but he paid no heed to their remonstrances, and on the
very next day set out.
Arriving in the Chang-ching district, he found everything un-
changed; and without being put to the necessity of asking the
road, made his way straight to the monastery. His former disciples received him with every token of respect as an honoured
visitor; and in reply to his question as to where the old priest was,
they informed him that their worthy teacher had been dead for
some time. On asking to be shewn his grave, they led him to a
spot where there was a solitary mound some three feet high, over
which the grass was not yet green. Not one of them knew his
motives for visiting this place; and by-and-by he ordered his
horse, saying to the disciples, "Your master was a virtuous priest.
Carefully preserve whatever relics of him you may have, and keep
them from injury." They all promised to do this, and he then set
off on his way home.
When he arrived there, he fell into a listless state and took no
interest in his family affairs. So much so, that after a few months
he ran away and went straight to his former home at the monastery, telling the disciples that he was their old master. This they
refused to believe, and laughed among themselves at his pretensions; but he told them the whole story, and recalled many incidents
of his previous life among them, until at last they were convinced. He then occupied his old bed and went through the same
daily routine as before, paying no attention to the repeated en-
treaties of his family, who came with carriages and horses to beg
him to return.
About a year subsequently, his wife sent one of the
servants with splendid presents of gold and silk, all of
which he refused with the exception of a single linen robe.
And whenever any of his old friends passed this monastery,
they always went to pay him their respects, finding him
quiet, dignified, and pure. He was then barely thirty,
though he had been a priest for more than eighty years. |
