Tale XX.
[1.] Hiranjavatî, “the gold-coloured river,” also called Svarnavati, “the yellow river,” both names occurring only in Buddhist writers: one of the northern tributaries of the Ganges, into which it falls not far from Patna, and the chief river of Nepaul. Its name was properly Gandakavatî = “Rhinoceros-river,” or simply Gan’da’kî, whence its modern name of the Goondook, as also that of Kondochates, into which it was transformed by the Greek geographers. In its upper course it often brings down ammonite petrifactions, which are believed to be incarnations or manifestations of Vishnu, hence it has a sacred character, and on its banks are numerous spots of pilgrimage.
[2.] Concerning such distributions of alms, see Koppen, i. 581 et seq.
[3.] The story affords no data on which to decide whether this cynical speech is supposed to be a serious utterance representing the actual motives on which the mendicant life was actually adopted under the teaching of Buddhism, affording a strong contrast from those which have prompted to it under Christianity, or whether it is intended as a satire on the Bhixu. (For Bhixu, see pp. 330, 332.)
[4.] I know not how the tufts of wool could have got caught off the sheeps’ backs on to ant-heaps, unless it be that the marmots being as we have already seen ([note 3, Tale IV].) called ants, the tale-repeater takes it for granted there are marmot-holes in Nepaul like those familiar to him in Mongolia, which Abbé Huc thus describes (vol. i. ch. ii.), “These animals construct over the opening of their little dens a sort of miniature dome composed of grass artistically twisted, designed as a shelter from wind and rain. These little heaps of dried grass are of the size and shape of mole-hills. Cold made us cruel, and we proceeded to level the house-domes of these poor little animals, which retreated into their holes below, as we approached. By means of this Vandalism we managed to collect a sackful of efficient fuel, and so warmed the water which was our only aliment that day.”
[5.] “Though there is so much gold and silver there is great destitution in Tibet. At Lha-Ssa, for instance, the number of mendicants is enormous. They go from door to door soliciting a handful of tsamba (barley-meal), and enter any one’s house without ceremony. The manner of asking alms is to hold out the closed hand with the thumb raised. We must add in commendation of the Tibetians that they are generally very kind and compassionate, rarely sending the mendicant away unassisted.” (Abbé Huc, vol. ii. ch. v.)
[6.] Indian tales often remind one of the frequent web of a dream in which one imagines oneself starting in pursuit of a particular object, but another and another fancy intervenes and the first purpose becomes altogether lost sight of. This was particularly observable in the tale entitled “How the Schimnu-Khan was slain,” in which, after many times intending it, Massang never goes back to thank his master at last. The present is a still more striking instance, in its consequence and repeated change of purport. In pursuing the mendicant’s life, the search for the man’s parents is forgotten; and the man and his wife are themselves lost sight of in the episode of the lamb.
[7.] Concerning the combination of the Moon and the hare, see Liebrecht, in Lazarus and Steinthal, Zeitschrift, vol. i. pt. 1. The Mongols see in the spots in the moon the figure of a hare, and imagine it was placed there in memory of Shâkjamuni having once transformed himself into a hare out of self-sacrifice, that he might serve a hungry wayfarer for a meal. (Bergman, Nomadische Streifereien unter den Kalmüken, in 1802–3, quoted by Jülg.)
[8.] See [note 5, Tale III].