And the women, saying, “He, for whose sake we were performing, is gone to sleep? Why should we play any longer?” laid aside the instruments they held, and lay down to sleep. The lamps fed with sweet-smelling oil were just burning out. The Bodisat, waking up, sat cross-legged on the couch, and saw them with their stage properties laid aside and sleeping—some foaming at the mouth, some grinding their teeth, some yawning, some muttering in their sleep, some gaping, and some with their dress in disorder—plainly revealed as mere horrible sources of mental distress.
Seeing this woful change in their appearance, he became more and more disgusted with lusts. To him that magnificent apartment, as splendid as Sakka’s residence in heaven, began to seem like a charnel-house full of loathsome corpses. Life, whether in the worlds subject to passion, or in the worlds of form, or in the formless worlds, seemed to him like staying in a house that had become the prey of devouring flames.[193] An utterance of intense feeling broke from him—“It all oppresses me! It is intolerable!” and his mind turned ardently to the state of those who have renounced the world. Resolving that very day to accomplish the Great Renunciation, he rose from his couch, went to the door and called out, “Who is there?”
Channa, who had been sleeping with his head on the threshold, answered, “It is I, sir, Channa.”
Then said he, “I am resolved to-day to accomplish the Great Renunciation—saddle me a horse.”
So Channa went to the stable-yard, and entering the stables saw by the light of the lamps the mighty steed Kanthaka, standing at a pleasant spot under a canopy of cloth, beautified with a pattern of jasmine flowers. “This is the very one I ought to saddle to-day,” thought he; and he saddled Kanthaka.
Even whilst he was being saddled the horse knew, “He is saddling me so tightly, and not as on other days for such rides as those to the pleasure grounds, because my master is about to-day to carry out the Great Renunciation.” Then, glad at heart, he neighed a mighty neigh; and the sound thereof would have penetrated over all the town, had not the gods stopped the sound, and let no one hear it.
Now after the Bodisat had sent Channa on this errand, he thought, “I will just look at my son.” And rising from his couch he went to the apartments of Rāhula’s mother, and opened her chamber door. At that moment a lamp, fed with sweet-smelling oil, was burning dimly in the inner chamber. The mother of Rāhula was asleep on a bed strewn with many jasmine flowers,[194] and resting her hand on the head of her son. Stopping with his foot on the threshold, the Bodisat thought, “If I lift her hand to take my son, she will awake; and that will prevent my going away. I will come back and see him when I have become a Buddha.” And he left the palace.
Now what is said in the Jātaka commentary, “At that time Rāhula was seven days old,” is not found in the other commentaries. Therefore the view given above should be accepted.[195]
And when the Bodisat had left the palace, he went to his horse, and said, “My good Kanthaka, do thou save me this once to-night; so that I, having become a Buddha by your help, shall save the world of men, and that of angels too.” Then leaping up, he seated himself on Kanthaka’s back.
Kanthaka was eighteen cubits in length from the nape of his neck, and of proportionate height; he was strong and fleet, and white all over like a clean chank shell. If he should neigh or paw the ground, the sound would penetrate through all the town. Therefore the angels so muffled the sound of his neighing that none could hear it; and placed, at each step, the palms of their hands under his feet.