Immediately below the life-history of Cakyamuni a series of edifying tales begins, avadana's and jataka's, stories of great deeds,especially deeds of faith in general, and of the Buddha's former lives in particular; the same kind are also found on the balustrades of the first and second gallery. Here again the spectator is taught to see and consider, how every deed bears its own fruit and how even the Great Being himself was subject to this law; yet at the same time he can observe how through the course of various forms of existence he,who was at last to bring salvation from the eternal circle of life, knew how to prepare himself for this task, by his numberless acts of self-sacrifice as god and king, as laborer and slave, even as animal.
It is obvious that the arrangement of all these tales was not left to the fancy of the sculptors, but followed some actual text, and this was conIirmed when the Russian savant S. d'Oldenburg discovered the Jatakamala in the first third part of the balustrade of the first gallery, top series. We might have expected this to be quickly followed bysirnilar discoveries, but that did not happen, though several of the tales have been identified by various experts (as I shall explain laterin beating the differentseries) andthough among themwere some forwhoseidentification the same collection of tales could be used, but even in the case of the Avadanac,ataka in which eight, or the Divyavadana in which three (or perhaps four) were found, the sequence of these tales is quite different to that on the monument. My first work was to examine if we should be able to find on the Barabudur in one consecutive series the whole or part of a jataka- or avadana-collection from the literature known to us.
The result was not successful. There would be no reason to give any relation of this attempt if it were not that by giving account of my researches others may be spared some useless pains. I first examined the two Sanskrit texts which had already been sucessfully searched for the identifications of some tales, the Divyavadana and the H~nayanistic Avadana~ataka, both famous and authorative holy scriptures. The next two I examined are also celebrated documents, Sutralankara and Karma,cataka , known to us respectively only from the Chinese and Tibetan translation, thus second hand, a fact that might have brought complications if we had come to compare the text with the actual reliefs, but having only to consider the general contents and specially the sequence of the tales, I am able to state that there was no trace of agreement to be found between the series of the tales in the writings and those on the monument. Nor does anything in the series of reliefs correspond with the sequence in those documents partly reaching back to the Avadana,cataka but remodeled to the Mahayanistic idea, the Kalpadrumavadanamala, Ratnavadanamala and Ac,okavadanamala, nor either in the also later Dvavim,catyavadanamala or Vicitrakarnikavadana . The sequence given by Ksemendra in his Bodhisattvavadanakalpalata was of no use, as it is known that this poem is of later date than Barabudur; in so far it proved useful that it had preserved in a certain tale a point that had been lost elsewhere. The Bhadrakalpavadanamala iS of still later date. Two other collections known to us from Tibet threw no light on my researches, neither the so-called Damamuka , nor the collection of IOI jataka's made known by Ivanovski, of which I shall speak later on (Chaps. VI). It was not likely that we should find the sequence of the jataka's from the MahaV~CtI1 S) on the Barabudur and that too proved useless. This same text besides the jataka's spoken of, also gives a list of the former existences of the Buddha . To this the sequence on Barabudur does not correspond in any single detail, and it is the same with similar lists in thealitavistara , Ras.trapalapariprccha and in Fa Hien..
As regards the further tradition of the Southern church there is not much to be said. It was already known that the arrangement of a part of the noted collection of 547 Pali-jataka'sis not followed anywhere; and the smaller collections give us no clue, neither the Nidanakatha nor the Cariyapitaka or the Buddhavamsafi).This was proved directly in the case of the two first mentioned collections, from the existing lists of parallels with the (smaller) Jatakamala, which lists give various tales from the last-mentioned text which has been followed on the Barabudur, in a totally different arrangement in the two Paliwritings. Nor do the talesinBuddhaghosa's works correspond to whet is found on the Javan monument . The other jataka's, distributedin the commentaries on the various books of the canon and elsewhere, could be set aside on account of their being quite separate from each other without forming any connected body and were useless for questions of sequence 9).
With the exception of any possible finds among the Tibetan or Chinese writings, our only hope is in the great Jatakamala of 565 tales that Hodgson met with in Nepal 10) and that may perhaps appear again. But we must not expect too much from this, for the large number of 565 could not possibly be worked into the space available, seeing that most of the tales of these series of reliefs that have already been identified take up several panels. Nevertheless it is possible that part of this Jatakamala has been represented.
Although I was not able to find a text or portion of a text in which the sequence of the tales coincided with that on the monument, the reading of these various jataka- and avadana-collections made it possible to identify a tale here and there on the Barabud. ur. With this small result I had to be satisfied for the present; the information gained will be noted in my explanations of the separate series of reliefs. I will here just call attention to the peculiar difficulties that arise at the identification of such tales, when the text followed by the sculptor is not available and in consequence the agreement of the reliefs with the version of the tale known to us can be incomplete.
Take the first tale on the chief wall of the first gallery as an example, the Sudhanakumaravadana, which as will appear later on, has been identified, small details excepted, with the help of the Divyavadana. Foucher 1las very rightly noted at the end of his examination concerning it, that while it has been possible to establish how the famous tale of prince Sudhana has been followed from the text mentioned, the result would have been entirely different if we had been obliged to make use of the version of this same legend that has been preserved in the not less ancient and authentic Mahavastu, In that case we should only have found the explanation for two or three of the reliefs, yet we should have been fully justified—as is now proved by the Divyavadana— in identifying the whole story of prince Sudhana from those two or three scenes.
Both the importance and the danger of Foucher's argument is evident. The importance is that it teaches us not to despair of finding the key to the solution of some particular tale depicted on the monument, even when only some of the reliefs coincide with the description in our text, for there is always a good chance that we have really got hold of the right tale, only another version of it. But the great danger is in making us inclined to put faith in very slight resemblances between text and reliefs and to ascribe the deviations to a difference between two versions, while it is quite possible that the tales judged as a whole, differ entirely from one another and only shew resemblance in some slight detail. In such cases it is impossible to gain any certainty of knowing whether we may rejoice over the slight resemblances in expectation of the discovery of another version, or on the contrary, judging by the much greater difference between the written and the sculptured story, are obliged to ascribe the resemblance to a chance common detail in both tales and look for the main point and real substance elsewhere. For instance we examine the tale following the Sudhanakumaravadana on this monument, a tale that begins with the exchange of large portraits between the hero and heroine. There is a tale told us by Chavannes from the Chinese Tripitaka , in which the two chief persons find each other by means of portraits (here actually images). But with this fact all the resemblance ends; the Chinese story continues to relate that the man later on discovers how the spouse he had obtained in this romantic way was not inclined to be faithful, but he was willing to overlook this when he noticed that even the queen carried on a love-affair with a groom. The monument gives no sign of this story; not the least trace appears to connect it with the reliefs, where, among others, one scene shows the Bodhisattva in the wilderness in the company of a lion and an elephant; nor do the other details coincide. Are we in such a case to say, because of the two reliefs with portraits, that this is the same tale but another version than the one known to us ? Or is the incident of the portraits an accidental detail, common to a tale of the Chinese Tripitaka and a wholly different one of Barabudur?
Another very great difficulty for the explanation of the reliefs in such cases, where we have no acess to the original text, consists in the often very superficial manner in which the second-hand material we have to work with relates the contents of the stories. If, keeping to the same Sudhanakumaravadana, the Divyavadana was missing, we could still recover the tale to the smallest details by means of the version in the Tibetan Kanjur, that follows the text of the Divyavadana. This can be traced because this avadana happens to be among those translated by Schiefner from the Kanjur, Now suppose this tale had not attracted Schiefner's attention and we turned to the table of contents of the Kanjur, then we would find in Csoma's Analyse, under Dulva II p. 390 only : Histoire de Nor-Bzangs, prince royal et de Yid-Hphrog-Ma (ravissant le coeur, en Sanskrit: Manohara), sa maitresse. Episode ou se trouvent plusieurs descriptions poetiques et des vers ingenieux exprimant la passion: ctest une sorte de roman on conte de fees. It is self-evident that such a description of contents is of no use and yet it is actually the story we are looking for, on which the twenty scenes following each other on the Barabudur are founded. Who knows what treasures maybe hidden under the ,,plusiers anecdotes" and the ,,apologues et contes moraux" that are given as contents of the rest of the same portion of the Dulva!
The possibility that the texts used by the sculptors may turn up in due time for our enlightenment as soon as the Tibetan and Chinese writings have been carefully examined, is not much consolation to us because for the moment these tales are not available, even if the version we are in search of is not lost. In such cases we might be inclined to start on our own responsibility and try to explain these very graphic reliefs from theirownlifelike action. The way in which one can be deceived by setting to work in this manner is so clearly set forth by I;oucher, that I cannot do better than quote the arguments of this expert with which I entirely agree.
He begins by calling attention to the enormous spaces that the sculptors had to fill and continues!):
I1 leur etait materiellement impossible de s'en tenir uniquement aux episodes pittoresques ou pathetiques, c'est-a-dire aux seuls qui eussent chance d'etre aussitot compris du spectateur et qui fussent capables de reveiller immediatement chez le fidele de jadis lc souvenir de quelque tradition, chez l'archeologue d'aujourd'hui le rappel de quelque lecture. Tout incident leur est bon, pourvu qu'il se laisse docilement representer. On peut meme se demander si les motifs les plus incolorcs ne vent pas les meilleurs a leur are. Ils affectionnent vraiment trop les scenes ou tout se passe en visites et en conversation s en t re des person nages don t l es gestes discrete, et tels qutils conviennent a des gens de bonne compagnie, ne nous apprennent absolument rien sur la suite des evenements. Et si cet abus est a la rigueur excusable, ils n'echappent pas de notre part au reproche d'avoir plus d'une fois esquive la difficulte en omettant de parti-pris, pour les remplacer par d'insipides receptions a la cour, des sujets plus dramatiques et par consequent plus propres a nous faire ressaisir le fil du recit
Non seulement les episodes caracteristiques vent ainsi noyes sous un Ilot monotone et terne de tableaux sans mouvement, mais dans chaque tableau meme le motif principal est souvent submerge sousune veritable debauche d'accessoires et de details. La seule excuse des artistes reside ici dans la forme du cadre, trots fois au moins plus large qu'il n'est haut . Par suite il n'est pas de grand personnage dont le cortege ne s'aligne pour faire tapisserie, parfois sur plusieurs range. Si la presence de ces nombreux comparses est bien conforme aux moeurs javanaises autant qu'indiennes, il va de soi qu'il ne jouent le plus souvent aucun role dans l'action: ils se bornent a l'alourdir de leur repetition stereotypee que rachete tent bien que mal la variete des gestes, toujours traites a main levee. Ce n'est pas tout: les sculpteurs se vent fait une sorte de point dthonneur~de ne laisser vice aucune partie de la surface disponible. Pour achever de meubler leur panneau, ils vont ~usqu'a remplir le dessous des sieges avec des coffres ou des vases; dans le haut, ils entassent selon les cas des edifices ou des arbres, naturellement figures a une echelle reduite; ou encore des rochers, traites selon la vieille convention indienne; ou enfin des animaux de toutes sort es, d ' ai lleurs spirituellemen t croques sur le vif, a la seule exception des chevaux, qui vent mediocres . On se douse que la clarte de l' histoire ne gagne pas grand-chose a cet encombrement, d' autant que rien n'avertit, par exemple, si les animaux y jouent, ou non, un role: car le pis est que parfois ils en ont un. Ainsi les oiseaux representes dans le Qibi-jataka [Ib 56] ou sur telle scene du Mandhatravadana [Ib 40] font partie integrante du recit, tandis que ceux qui s'envolent avec Manohara [Ib 1 1 ] vent de decoration pure. Enfin il ne faut pas oublier que les artistes de Boro-Budur ne se vent nullement interdit les vieux moyens de l'ecole indienne, juxtaposition de deux ou trots episodes distincts et repetition d'un personnage dans le meme cadre. Aussi peut-il arriver—et la lecture des descriptions de Leemans cst T>articulierement edifiante sur ce point ~ qutau milieu d'un tel Iouillis on prenne le cl~ange sur les seuls acteurs ou objets dont la presence importe reellement a l'enchainement des faits.
Mais le capital et plus sensible defaut de ces bas-reliefs est l'incapacite ou vent restes leurs auteurs, malgre leur habilete de main, de creer des figures ayant une individualite caracteristique. Assurement il serait excessif de faire un crime aux artistes de ces iles lointaines de ne pas s'etre eleves a un comble d'art qui fut toujours inconnu de l'ecole indienne, et auquel l'art grec lui-meme nta atteint qutaux meilleures epoques: mais le fait est patent. Ils vent capables de representer des types, non des individus. Ils possedent un modele de rod, qui leur sert aussi indistinctement pour les dieux, comme celui de reine pour les deesses, un modele de moine, qui, a la coiffure pres, vaut egalement pour les-Buddha; un modele d'homme de cour, d'anachorete, de brahmane, de guerrier, etc. Cette maquette unique, ils ltemploier~t en toute occasion. Wile est susceptible, selon les circonstances, par le jeu des gestes et meme des traits du visage, d'exprimer des etats d'ame differents: elle ne l'est pas de revetir une physionomie qui la distingue de ses congeneres. C'est ainsi par exemple que, dans une meme legende, nous avons vu le meme personnage princier s'appeler tour a tour ici Dhana, Sudhana ou Druma, 1i Rudrayan. a, Bimbisara ou Qikhan. din. A cinq panneaux de distance [Ib 72 et 771, un roi et un moine s'entretiennent pareillement ensemble: rien ntavertit que, dans l'intervalle, ils aient chacun change de personalite. I1 n'y a pas d'apparence que jadis le pelerin, qui faisait la pradaksina de ces galeries, ait pu mettre des noms divers sur des figures aussi semblables sans l'aide du commentaire local de quelque moine cicerone: nous pouvons encore moins, a present que la tradition locale est completement eteinte, nous passer d'un commentaire ecrit. I1 cst permis d'affirmer que nous n'identifierons surles murailles de Boro-Budur que les basreliefs dont nous aurons d'abord lu quelque part la legende: et encore l'exemple du Sudhanakumaravadana nous prouve qu'il faudra que nous l'ayons lue dans le meme ouvrage que le sculpteur.
To this consummate argument I can add nothing, being absolutely convinced that every attempt to explain the reliefs which is not founded on a text, is doomed to failure. As therefore no consecutive texts have been found to coincide with these relief series, and as it is useless to try to read them without the help of a text, all we can do for the present is to try as far as possible to account for such separate tales as can be identified among the extensive jataka- and avadanaliterature that is known to us. There must still remain a good deal of uncertainty especially whcrc differences of more or less importance appear between text and reliefs. This was a part of my work, where it was evident beforehand that the result would prove unsatisfactory. It means so little to solve these small puzzles, while the whole still remains a great mystery. Besides, it becomes such a thankless task to examine the hundreds of tales one by one for the sake of identifying a few but never mastering the whole, when at any time the text followed by the sculptor may be discovered to make the way clear at one stroke and everything comprehensible. But we can never be sure if this text or texts will ever be recovered and so we are bound, each one for himself, to assist the explanation of the separate tales. Meantime let us not forget that the great importance of these relief series of jataka's and avadana's is not so much the fact whether one or another particular tale is represented or if some more or less remain unidentified, but especially the manner in which they are alTanged and connected and what their connection and sequence can teach us of the tradition followed by the Barabudur sculptors.
Let us now examine the various series of reliefs separately, beginning with the lowest row of the chief wall in the first gallery.
A connected text of consecutive tales has not been found for the whole or for a part of this series of reliefs. But more than twothirds of the reliefs have been explained by means of the texts of separate tales; tales some four of which are found in the larger collection of the Divyavadana, but in such a way that it is certain the Divyavadana we know can in no case be the one followed here by the sculptors, not only because no more than four of the 38 tales (not reckoning the smaller tales introduced into these 38) have been discovered, but also because these four do not even follow each other in the text, have a different order of arrangement on the monument and are separated by other tales of which no trace is to be found in the Divyavadana. I must here call attention to this fact because the agreement of these four tales in text and reliefs has been used in answering the question to which Mahayanistic sect the 13arabudur must be ascribed. When the time comes (in Chapt. XIII) to examine this question I shall explain this more fully, for the present let us notice that it would be of the very greatest importance if a close connection could be established between the monument and the source of the Divyavadana, but till now the matter is that only four of the avadana's have been identified, in a different sequence, other surroundings and above all—as will appear later—partly with rather to a similar kinnara-relief among the fragments of the railing of the stupa at Bharhut. It proved later that another tale was meant than the one IJzerman thought, but the honor of being the first to notice the presence of a tale about kinnara's, remains with him. It was 1895 before a couple of the longer stories were recognised and that was by S. d'Oldenburg in his Zametki o Buddijskom iskusstve, translated into T)utcll by Kern and into English by Wiener . With only the help of Wilsen's drawings Oldenburg recognised nos. 3—20 as depicting the 30th tale of the Divyavadana, the Sudhanakinnaravadana, as he calls it and ascribed no. 108—1 12 to the story of Maitrakanyaka. This last-mentioned avadana was subjected to a comprehensive examination by Speyer in 1906 in which he compared the several versions of this tale, collected resemblances from elsewhere and concluded with some remarks on the meaning and sources of the legend. The text of the Divyavadana proved to be only a rhetorical paraphrase of that preserved in the Avadana,cataka no. 36; in neither case do we find exactly the text illustrated by the sculptor. In addition to those already identified by Oldenburg, Speyer could assign no. 107 as also belonging to this tale. In the same year, 1906, there was another attempt made by Huber , by means of the trained cats on no. 80, to trace this and the adjacent reliefs to the tale of Rudrayana; this attempt, though later proved to be in the right direction, was frustrated at the time by inaccuracies in the drawings, that were the only means at his service.
At last in 1909 great impetus was given to the identification of these reliefs by Foucher who published the results of his travels and investigations in Java . What Foucher achieved is owing greatly to the fact that in contrast to his predecessors (except IJzerman) he was able to examine the reliefs themselves, but there is no doubt that this advantage would have been of little value without his remarkable sagacity. Foucher began by examining the Sudhanakumaravadana on no. I—20 in all particulars (Div. No. 30), recognised in No. 31 ~50 the Mandhatravadana from Divyavadana No. 17 by the help of the version of the Bodhisattvavadanakalpalata No 4, further in No. 56 the Cibi-jataka and in No. 64—88 the Rudrayanavadana, as it is found in Divyavadana No. 37. He proved that the kinnara-tale of No. 89 and 90 did not coincide, as it was thought, with the Candakinnarajataka (No. 485) but much more resembled the Bhallatiya-jataka (No. 504) and finally he reexamined No. 106—112 in connection with the Maitrakanyakavadana. The work of Foucher in my opinion has laid the foundations on which further research can be built though in a few details I may differ from }rim.
Let me now give a short review of what is represented on this series. Reliefs 1 to 20 illustrate the Sudhanakumaravadana and, with the exception of a few details, quite agree with the version known to us from the Divyavadana. The beginning as well as the end are just as in the text mentioned and the sculptor has evidently not used a more elaborate or a shorter one but a version with just the same contents as the Oivyavadana tale. With reference to the slight variations of text and sculptures I refer to the description of the separate reliefs here below. The story of Sudhana takes a special place as first of the whole series, that agrees with the popularity this tale enjoyed elsewhere
It is evident that No. 21 begins a new tale, not yet identified, an episode of which has been described on p. 234, being the story of a hero and heroine who find one another by means of their portraits (No. 22 and 23) . It looks as if the same tale continues up to No. 30, but of course we can not be certain of this. I call special attention to the more striking reliefs we can pick out from among the usual receptions and court-scenes because these must supply the key for eventual identification. On No. 25 the hero is sitting with a rosary in his hand next to an incense-altar, quite alone in a building enclosed by a palissade, while the rest of the people present on the scene, chiefly a princely retinue, are outside. On the next relief the chief person, to judge by his halo the Bodhisattva, is sitting in a wilderness indicated by rocks and trees, on the banks of a river, opposite a lion and an elephant. A lady of high rank is approaching from the left with her suite; she too wears a halo and is probablya godess. May be it is the same woman, now with a great retinue, who brings an offering of flowers and incense in a temple on No. 27. The other reliefs are of the ordinary commonplace kind, only to be explained if we know the text, and not always then.
It is rather doubtful if this tale ends on No. 30, that is separated from the reliefs following by a gateway, and a new one begins on No.3 1 . Coucher, though rather cautiously, ascribes the whole row from 31 to 50 to the Mandhatravadana that he identified for certain in the middle scenes of this portion; to account for this he follows for the first scenes the prologue of Mandhatar's story that is preserved only in Ksemendra's Bodhisattvavadanakalpa]ata No. 4 ') and for the other scenes the Divyavadana. It seems quite natural that after the doorway a new tale should begin with No. 31 and we can easily allow for Ksemendra altering or putting variations into an old tradition, so that we need not be surprised if the reliefs do not exactly correspond with the poem; but all the same we must not close our eyes to the fact that very evident divergence exists. The two first reliefs shew us the exercise of charity, that is not mentioned in the text; this is quite excusable, the same as the visit to a hermitage unknown to the text, on No. 33. But the two scenes given on No. 34, that should represent what happens to king Uposadha in the hermitage, disagree entirely with the text as will be seen in my explanation that follows. Again, the following scenes shew so little reliable correspondence that I can hardly feel much confidence in the interpretation offered. On No. 35 a child appears and this might of course be the new-born Mandhatar; so we might be willing to accept No. 36 and 37 as the usual prophecy about the fate of the youthful prince and the no less usual reward for the astrologers, even if all this is not given in the text. But I am at a loss to know how to fit in No. 38; it is quite unmistakeably a visit of Qakra, yet there is nothing given of this important event in the Divyavadana. Finally I am not convinced either that the identification of No. 39 is correct, Foucher here sees the consecration of Mandhatar as king, and is able to find the ' seven jewels" that I cannot discover; so for the present I dare not venture to call it anything but the homage and presenting of gifts to Mandhatar or some other royal personage. For further details I refer again to my description of the separate reliefs. To conclude, though I am not willing or able to deny that Nos.31—39 belong to the Mandhatravadana, I do not think they are in the least proved to be so, and must in any case declare that if this is really the story of Mandhatar, the sculptor must have followed a version entirely different to the one known to us . Not until No. 40 do we come to a part that agrees altogether with the Divvavadana text, and this continues up to No. 47, the battle of the asura's. The closing scenes too, in my opinion, are very doubtful. On No. 48 we find a conversation between a king and a brahman and on No. 49 between the (same ?) king and an eminent personage, while a third person with a halo, quite on the left, has turned away from them and goes off. The first would depict the moment when Mandhatar inquires, who is actually the conqueror; the second when Cakra turns away from him. Possibly; but who then is the woman seated beside Mandhatar in both scenes ? Who is the brahman ? Who is the person to whom the king is speaking on No. 49? Must we ascribe all this to a different version ? Besides, in the text nothing at all is said about the king of the gods turning away; the catastrophe follows instantaneously when the human king forms the intention of dethroning Qakra. The conclusion I come to is that I cannot positively deny that this is the end of Mandhatar's story, but neither can I accept it to be so without further proof. If the battle onNo. 47 was not too strange an ending, I should be inclined to consider No. 48 as the beginning of a new tale.
Whatever we may think of No. 48 and 49, I am not able to agree with Foucher about No. 50. In a space surrounded by a palissade and closed by a gateway, sit a man and woman with some rather damaged object between them, it looks round or shaped like a gem, ornamented at the top and laid on a dish with a foot. According to Foucher, this would be a stupa containing Mandhatar's remains; I cannot imagine how this can be taken for a stupa, that is represented everywhere on Barabudur resting on a lotus cushion with a pedestal and covered by a pinnacle, sometimes with an umbrella. Whatever this thing may he , it is in my opinion not a stupa, so cannot be the stupa of Mandhatar. The tale that now follows is not known to us and we can only guess at the meaning; it is therefore of no use in explaining the curious object on No. 50. On No. 51 we see a king and queen sitting with a small prince; the king holds a small kinnara in his hand and several persons in his suite do the same. Unfortunately we can't tell if they represent living kinnara's or may be intended as playthings for the young prince, which looks rather likely judging by a man sitting among the retinue, holding one of the kinnara figures on the palm of his left hand and touching it with a pointed thing he has in the right hand as if he were working on it. However it may be, these little kinnara figures are remarkable enough to attract our attention, even if they seem to play no further part in the tale. Besides it is impossible to tell if the following scenes belong to the same tale or that one separate story is told on a single relief, as will prove to be the case on No. 56.
The next-following reliefs too are striking enough for separate notice, on the chance of being recognised. On No. 52 we find first, quite on the right, a man in full-dress, with a sword in his hand, and a woman holding a flower, flying above a rocky landscape with a large water; more to the left we see the same, or another couple, he lying on his side, she sitting next to him, in a cave in the wilderness; quite on the left is a yaksa on guard with a drawn sword. The next scene is of quite another sort: some men have landed from a ship we see on the left of the relief and are respectfully approaching a woman who stands on the right, they appear to be asking for something, probably help or hospitality. On No. 54 we must be looking at the fulfilment of their wishes: a two-storied house now shelters the sailors who are being feasted, while their hostess is sitting quite on the left surrounded by her women in a separate building. On a panel in the guest-house we see the same flying pair of No. 52; perhaps it is the picture of a former adventure, exposited by the heroine to the view of foreign visitors in order to find her lost partner, an episode well-known to Indian and Javan literature. l)
No. 55 is again of the usual meaningless kind, but No. 56 brings us to something we know of, the Qibi-jataka identified by Foucher; though we have no Indian Buddhist version to compare with, and can only depend on translations from Chinese or Tibetan versions , it is quite evident that no other story is depicted than the well-known jataka of the king of the Cibi's, who to free a dove from the falcon that persues her, gives an equal quantity of his own flesh, weighed out for the ravenous bird of prey. Nothing appears of the rest of the tale, the appearance of Qakra, king of the gods, who has only assumed the form of a falcon to put the virtuous king to the proof; though the following relief No. 57 probably represents homage being paid to the Qibi monarch.
No. 58, on which a king with a halo, curiously-dressed strangers, locked box and a jug appear, will probably belong to what follows Immediately. On No. 59 we see a king, here also wearing a halo and standing with a lotus flower in his hand next to a altar with a high flame, on the other side of which crouches a wild yaksa. This is possibly a tale like No. 38 of the Avadana,cataka, in which a virtuous king is put to the proof by Cakra: the king of the gods in the form of a yaksa causes the monarch to jump into a burning altar. If the sculptor had intended to depict this story, we should certainly expect to see a scene like this on No. 59, on which the king, a flaming altar and the yaksa appear; the actual spring into the fire is naturally omitted. According to the version of the Avadana,cataka the burning altar changes into a lotus pond and I think it not improbable that this is signified by the lotus flower in the king's hand. There is a similar case in a Jatakamalastory (No. 4) where a hell appears before the feet of the hero, but when he shews no fear at the sight of it, a lotus rises to carry him away; now we see in the same way on the relief (IBa 17—18) only the hell depicted but in the hand of the chief person is a lotus suggesting what is to follow. No. 60 may then easily agree with my explanation of No. 59, as the usual closing scene to this kind of talc, where Qakra resumes his own form and does honor to the victim. (akra's identity as we know, is generally indicated by the presence of his follower Airavata with the elephants tusk in his headdress, elephant ears and with or without the angkuc,a. The follower sitting front in the retinue of the person alluded to in this relief, has lost his headdress altogether and he carries no angk~c,a, but it does not look unlikely that the large elephant ears are there, though I can not be certain about this identification.
A doorway divides this relief from the next one, so that it is probable we shall find there begins a new tale; possibly, as Foucher remarks l), a prelude, till now unknown, to the Rudrayanavadana that begins with No. 64. Two of the unknown prelude-reliefs are rather insignificant; the middle one No. 62 has quite a romantic character. On the right, a man and woman are sitting on the bank of a river in a wilderness indicated by rocks and trees; on the left a man (the same ?) is kneeling before (,akra who is not only plainly to he recognised by Airavata with elephant ears and headdress, but holds in his right hand his emblem, the double vaj rat I refer to tl~c Sambula-jataka, No. 519 of the Pall collection, where a prince and princess appear in the wilderness and akra also plays a part, though there is not much resemblance to be found in the details. Only for want of any better explanation and with the greatest caution do I suggest any connection between these reliefs and jataka 519.
Beginning with No. 64 we can follow the Rudrayanavadana from the Divyavadana, with the exception of a few deviations of slight importance that are strewn here below and prove in any case that the sculptor did not have before him the version that we know of the story. According to Foucher this avadana goes on till No. 88 and at any rate ~ can entirely agree with him up to 83. The latter reliefs, if they prove to belong to the story of Rudrayan. a, shew that here too the sculptor must have followed a version differing in many ways. What these differences are I shall explain later; though not unimportant, they shew nevertheless enough agreement with the Rudrayanavadana to make it appear that we have to do with the same story.
Both reliefs No. 89 and 90 give us the tale of the kinnara's. Foucher has quite rightly observed D, that among the various };innara-tales the Takkariya-jataka (No. 481) is not to be taken into consideration, because it plays in a royal garden, where the kinnara's are shut up in a cage, while both reliefs place the scone in a wilderness. The attitude of the persons concerned also excludes the Candakinnara-tale (No. 485)— which IJzerman had thought of—because in that story a king kills the man-kinnara in order to get possession of the woman, while on the monument nothing of that kind appears to be going on between the kinnara people and the king there depicted. The story illustrated can then be no other than the Bhallatiya-; ataka (No. 504); therefore by means of that I shall explain them
In the last quarter of this series of reliefs only seven are identified; I shall briefly review the most striking among the rest. The first, No. 91, could easily belong to the story of the kinnara's if the intervening doorway did not make it seem unlikely. On No. 93 we see a king on horseback with a large retinue riding through a forest. No. 95 is very curious; quite on the right are several servants or guards, some with weapons, more to the left is a large party of small figures, probably children, evidently amusing themselves in the water. Three grown-up women stand in the background, two of them with a child in her arms; a fourth person is holding one of the children in the water by the arms as if helping it to come out. Then quite on the left is a child standing alone in the foreground; the water flows past and behind him but not just under his feet and it is difficult to decide if he stands in the water or on the bank. In the first case it would be remarkable, that nobody in the company seems to tal;e any notice of this miracle. Then No. 96 is divided into two by a palissade; on the right, a conversation in a palace with a woman in a halo, on the left eleven similarly-dressed men sitting under a penthouse on which some birds are perched. No. 97 gives a conversation between a king with an armed guard and a naga on the banks of a lotus pond, that is of course the naga's dwelling place. Then comes No. 98 with two scenes, first a couple of workmen busy with their craft and then the visit of the same men, still in their working-clothes, to a person of importance. No. 99 too has a romantic style; a monarch with a large company of armed men is on the right, while on the left we see two men in wordly garments, so no .rsi's but possibly heavenly beings, flying off through the air. Finally we must notice on the righthand part of No. 102, a woman adorned with a halo, sitting all alone in a wilderness thickset with trees and rocks.
In No. 106—112, the only part that has been identified, we are able to follow the Maitrakanyakavadana in the footsteps of Speyer with the oldest known version, that of the Avadana,cataka No. 36, even though the sculptor has not had this same version before him; for the last scene, as Speyer has indicated, we can turn to the Mahabhiniskraman. asutra and the gatha's of the Pall tradition, the latter being also useful in the prose-commentary, to shew how Maitrakanyaka gets away from his travelling-companions. To avoid repetition I refer the reader to the detailed description of these reliefs.
Among the remaining reliefs we may notice No. 1 14, where a king on horseback with a large retinue rides into a forest; as the monarch has an arrow in his hand and a bow is carried behind him and most of the company carry the same weapons, we may take this for a hunting expedition. With 1 16 begins a story or an episode in which a number of similarlydressed men in robes of ceremony, first six, later seven and eight appear; we find them in a group on four consecutive scenes. Otherwise these reliefs are not striking, except No. 119, where a bow is being shot by only one figure; probably this is not a contest but more likely an archerypractice, in which some one is to shew his skill. Finally on No. 120 the whole series closes with the honoring of a stupa.
The story of prince Sudhana
(Divyavadana No. 30, p. 435-61)
In the land of Pancala there reigned two kings, one over North-, the other over South-Pancala. The first-named kingdom enjoyed great prosperity, owing to the justice with which the king ruled his subjects, combined with the presence of the naga Janmacitraka who lived in a lake near the capital and supplied a regular rain-fall. The condition of SouthPancala was very different indeed, the monarch ruled his people with crueltyandinjustice, for which reason no god troubled himself about the water-supply; the inhabitants were forced to leave their dwellings and go to settle in the North. Once when the lying of South-Pancala went on a hunting-expedition through the land, he noticed the deserted villages and neglected temples and inquired the cause thereof. After begging to be excused from punishment, his ministers told him the reason; the king promised to rule justly and sought for a means of bringing Janmacitraka to the South. To achieve this the best means was enchantment, so the king made a proclamation that whoever should bring Janmacitraka to South-Pancala would receive a basket of gold. At this a snake-charmer appeared who undertook the task and after taking a look round the lake, declared he would be able by his enchantments to capture the naga in seven days. Meanwhile Janmacitraka became aware of what was going on and believing that he would not be able to withstand the enchantments, sought the help of a hunter named Halaka, who found aliving along the banks of the lake. They agreed that the hunter should hide himself and let fly an arrow at the enchanter when he began with his magic, but should not kill him until he had forced him to destroy the enchantment. Thus it happened. The naga after the death of his decoyer rose up out of the lake, embraced his rescuer and invited him to visit his parents. Of course the naga-parents received him with delight and the hunter returned loaded with gifts. Not far from the lake was the hermitage of a rsi, to whom the hunter told what had happened, and who advised him, instead of the jewels, to ask for the never-failing lasso that was in the possession of the naga's. This was done at once, the hunter returned to the naga-dwelling, received the lasso from his friend, and returned home joyfully.
After relating with some fulness of detail the birth and youth of Sudhana, the crown-prince of North-I,ancala, the text returns to the hunter Halaka and tells how in pursuit of his calling he came to the foot of a mountain, where a rsi lived beside a great lake; the rsi told him that Manohara, the daughter of the kinnara-king, often came with her women to bathe in the lake. The hunter determined to try and capture her, and with the help of the magic lasso he succeeded without much trouble, while her attendants flew away terrified. So as to save her life, she submitted to her fate and offered him the jewel from her forehead that would give him power over her person. At that same moment appeared prince Sudhana with his hunting-party and the hunter, fearing that his lovely prisoner would be taken from him, thought it better to offer her to the prince. As soon as the prince set eyes on the young beauty his heart was consumed with love and he returned to the court enraptured, where the young couple were married and spent their days happily.
Meantime two brahmans had appeared in the city, one of whom applied to the king who made him purohita, while the other attached himself to the crown prince. This brahman persuaded the prince to promise to make him his purohita when he should ascend the throne; this came to the ears of the other brahman who, in order to keep his position, sought means to get the prince put out of the way. He therefore advised the king to send the prince to quell a dangerous rebellion, against which seven expeditions had already failed. Sudhana then set out; but he went first to his mother, gave her the precious gem from Manohara's forehead and begged her to take care of his wife. While he was seated under a tree, not far from the rebellious country, he unexpectedly received help from an army of yak$a's, sent to him by the yak$a-king under the command of his general Pancika. In this way he managed easily to crush the rebellion and hastened to prepare for the return journey. That same night the king dreamed a dream that filled him with anxiety, which he asked the brahman to interpret. Although the purohita knew well that the meaning was only that the prince had been successful, he told the king that the dream predicted evil, which could only be averted by a solemn ceremonial sacrifice, and that the victim must be a kinnan. At first the king would not hear of Manohara being offered up, but at last he yielded. The intended victim came to hear of her fate; she fled to her mother-inlaw and begged her to save her. The queen found no other way of rescue than to give back the magic jewel so that Manohara could take flight through the air. In order to make that her husband would find her, ~Ianohara first were to the Hi near whose dwelling she had been captured; there she handed him a signet-ring to give to Sudhana when he should try to trace her, and told him the way to the land of the kinnara's.
After paying his respects to his father and presenting the.treasures of the conquered enemy, Sudhana hastened to his palace to see his beloved Manohara. Here, to his horror, he heard what had happened; he then went to his mother who told him the truth of the matter. Now life was nothing to him without Lois beloved, so he began to search for her everywhere, until it occurred to him to inquire of Halaka in what way he had met with her. Halaka directed him to the Hi by the lake, and although the king tried to prevent the prince from getting away by setting guards on the walls of the city, he managed to escape and reach the rsi's dwelling. With the help of the ring, and following the directions given by Manohara, he reached the kingdom of the kinnara's after long travelling. At some distance from the capital he saw a number of kinnarl's fetching water and was told it was for the bath of the king's daughter Manohara who could not get rid of the human smell. To announce his presence, he threw the ring into one of the waterjugs; so it was recognised by Manohara in her bath and she at once questioned her servant whether any man had been seen outside the city. Sudhana was then secretly brought into the palace and Manohara went to her father, king Druma, to find out what he would do with Sudhana. At first the king threatened to have him chopped into pieces, but soon changed his mind and became friendly; he received the prince graciously but all the same required him to give some proofs of his ability. The prince brilliantly proved his skill in the use of the bow and then he was required to pick out his beloved from a number of kinnar~'s who exactly resembled her. Needless to say he selected the right one. There was now nothing in the way of the young couple's happiness, and they passed their days pleasantly at the court of king Druma. After a while the prince began to long for his own country, and gaining the consent of Druma to depart, they returned to Pancala where they were received with rejoicing. Sudhana was enthroned king by his father and lived in great happiness with his beloved Manohara, not forgetting to show by charity and virtue, that he understood how human happiness depends only on the virtuous conduct of former lives.