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Hinüber - The Historical Dr Drewes And The Buddha (JIABS-46-417)

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The Historical Dr. Drewes And The Buddha1

Oskar Von Hinüber

Journal of the International Association of Buddhist Studies Volume 46 • 2023 • 417–430 • doi: 10.2143/JIABS.46.0.3293168

Gefährlich ist’s den Leu zu wecken,
verderblich ist des Feuers Glut,
doch der größte aller Schrecken
ist Dr. Druhs in seiner Wut.
(after Friedrich Schiller, “Das Lied von der Glocke”)

Quand on me contrarie, on éveille mon attention, non pas ma colère […]
(M. de Montaigne, Essais III, 8 “De l’art de conférer”)

When reading the strong, almost devastating invective against the harmless and peaceful article “The Buddha as a Historical Person” (quoted henceforth as BHP) I was surprised and, in a way, deeply satisfied, almost proud that this modest contribution was able to raise such a huge tsunami of criticism accompanied by a wonderful thunderstorm of wrath. 1 Looking for protection in this nasty weather conditions, a fond memory from far away days in school, the Gymnasium Ernestinum at Celle (Niedersachsen), came back, where we enthusiastically read in our Greek classes the ‘Ἀπολογία Σωκάρτους’, which begins:

Ὅτι μὲν ὑμεῖς, ὦ ἄνδρες Ἀθηναῖοι, πεπόνθατε ὑπὸ τῶν ἐμῶν κατηγόρων, οὐκ οἶδα・ ἐγὼ δ ̓ οὖν καὶ αὐτὸς ὑπ ̓ αὐτῶν ὀλίγου ἐμαυτοῦ ἐπελαθόμην・ οὕτω πιθανῶς ἔλεγον. καίτοι ἀληθές γε, ὡς ἔπος εἰπεῖν, οὐδὲν εἰρήκασιν
“How you felt, citizens of Athens, at hearing the speeches of my accusers, I know not; but I myself was almost made to forget who I was - so convincing did they argue; and yet they have hardly spoken anything true as it were” (after Benjamin Jowett).

At first, I am quite happy and relieved that my article fared much better than two other hapless responses to Dr. Drewes’ paper “The Idea of the Historical Buddha” (quoted as “Drewes I”). For, though of little interest to Dr. Drewes (the others were in his eyes “somewhat less interesting” [note 1 in the response to BHP, quoted as “Drewes II”]) my contribution was found worth an answer after all.

In order to understand the controversy, it is useful to recapitulate what the criticized article is all about and then discuss a few selected points before they disappear in a dense fume of scorn and wrath. The answer to Dr. Drewes’ original article (Drewes I) was extremely simple and in three steps. When Dr. Drewes argued that most scholars studying Buddhism are of the opinion that the Buddha never lived, the first aim of the answer (BHP) was to point out that an astonishing amount of literature referring to the question of the historical Buddha was simply left out, astonishing even for an article obviously not aiming at being comprehensive.

Dr. Drewes in his original article and again in his response (Drewes I & II) concentrates on the opinions or results of research of other scholars to find out whether the Buddha was a historical person or not, although this has little relevance for solving the question of the historicity of the Buddha. It is the reason, not the opinion that counts. Moreover, Dr. Drewes makes it clear only now, why he did not include the work of scholars concerned with Indian history: What they are doing is “little more than an exercise in pseudo-scholarly guesswork” (Drewes II, n. 2). This astonishing and devastating verdict is made in reference to the three volumes on “The Dating of the Historical Buddha - Die Datierung des historischen Buddha” (Bechert 1991-1997), which is a real treasure trove of discussions on what has come down to us in various traditions, Buddhist or other, and to which dating of the Buddha all this would ultimately lead. The harsh judgement of Dr. Drewes is perhaps understandable, if he read only the second article by P. H. L. Eggermont in the conference volumes, if any. Here Eggermont claimed among a general amazement and embarrassment of all “guessing scholars” present during the conference (except Eggermont himself, of course) that Ajātaśatru and Aśoka was one and the same person (Eggermont 1991: 239), which, of course, solves the problem of the date of the Buddha once for all in a most ingenious, if not elegant way. The point in the response to Dr. Drewes was not to pile up further views supporting either opinion, but simply point out gaps. In so far Dr. Drewes is fighting windmills in his answer when he continues to heap up secondary literature in his support.

Although Dr. Drewes quotes, e.g., J. W. de Jong as one more of the sceptics as far as the historicity of the Buddha is concerned with “the texts do not allow us to discover a historical kernel in the legend of the Buddha” (Drewes II), he quotes de Jong again with “it is perhaps advisable not to go beyond the very vague statement that the Buddha lived in the state of Magadha …” (Drewes II, n. 2). Both slightly contradictory statements are quoted with approval, although the second one does not sound as if J. W. de Jong was overly sceptic and not at all of the opinion that the Buddha never lived. The contradiction is only an apparent one, because it is quite a different approach to look at the legend of the Buddha as a whole and with the intention to write a “historical biography” 2 of the Buddha, and to search for single and isolated bits of historical memory in the oldest layers of the text tradition, particularly for those which sometimes even disappear from the later legend of the Buddha on reasons discussed more than once.

In contrast to Dr. Drewes’ approach and in a second step, a different path was chosen in BHP, that is going back to sources as old as possible in order to search for evidence where historical memory may be found, if anywhere (certainly not in secondary literature Dr. Drewes is so fond of). The guiding principle was, following P. Harrison and J. Nattier, to look particularly for statements which were suppressed in course of the text tradition and run against the idea later Buddhists had of the Buddha. In doing so, it is obviously useful to search for sources as early as possible. The third and fairly important step in the argument is to ask why a certain episode from the life of the Buddha is remembered. This central point is strangely enough not at all addressed in Dr. Drewes response, and, consequently, needs not to be taken up again in the following.

Keeping this in mind when trying to evaluate any source, the first step is to evaluate the possibility to determine its date. A comparatively safe guide in this respect is language and style. Evidently, Dr. Drewes did not really grasp this simple, almost primitive approach. For, when criticising the paragraph on the Upaka episode in BHP, a lot of general observations are put forward that one may consider as helpful or not, without, however losing a word on the centre of the argument, the old eastern Middle Indic form hupeyya/huveyya found only in the Theravāda version of the story nor on the later attempts to suppress this, for the ancient Buddhists obviously fairly embarrassing episode, which can be seen very clearly when reading the same story in various later Buddhist traditions. It is a “long leap” (Drewes II) from Upaka’s answer huveyya “maybe it is like that” to sādhu sādhu “excellent.”

While Dr. Drewes criticises nothing of relevance here, but simply circumnavigates the kernel of the argument, in his discussions of the story of the first meditation under the Jambu tree he introduces a new point and opens an alley for further fruitful considerations, which, although of no relevance for the question of the historical Buddha, are interesting in themselves. Dr. Drewes refers to two interesting parallels to the story told in the Majjhimanikāya (MN) from the Saṃghabhedavastu (SBV) of the Mūlasarvāstivāda Vinaya and a second one from the Dīrghāgama (DĀ). The sentence under discussion reads in the Theravāda version pitu sakkassa kammante sītāya jambucchāyāya nisinno, MN I 246,32 and in the Mūlasarvāstivāda Vinaya pituh śuddhodanasya niveśane 3 karmāntān anusañgamya jambūcchāyāyāṃ niṣadya, SBV I 107,27ff. as well as kumāro mama karmāntān anusaṃyān(e) 4 jambūcchāyāyāṃ niṣadya, SBV I 190, 14ff. The Dīrghāgama has pituh śākyasya śuddhodanasya karmāntān anusaṃyo[…]. 5 The crucial word is kammanta/karmānta.

Traditionally this is taken to mean “field labor” (Drewes II). Now Dr. Drewes maintains in the light of these parallels that kammantal karmānta which can certainly have also other meanings depending on the context means “affairs” here. It might come as a surprise to Dr. Drewes to learn that I do know that dictionaries exist and, even more astonishing, that I am able, admittedly with the greatest effort, to check a word in a dictionary, particularly in one that I edited myself. The first meaning given for kammanta in the Critical Pāli Dictionary (CPD) is “work, labour; especially farm work.” M. Cone, A Dictionary of Pāli (NPED), concurs with “occupation (especially farming),” which is indeed the most common meaning.

In order to get rid of the field labour Dr. Drewes argues that the parallels (SBV, DĀ) may “suggest that it [sc. the Pāli text] may be corrupt” (a little later, in Drewes II, n. 11 “the Pali passage is corrupt”) and “suggest that the Pali passage has lost the participle anusaññāyamāno, corresponding to anusamyān” (SBV I 190,15). In support Dr. Drewes (Drewes II, n. 11) quotes kammante anusaññāyamāno, MN III 8,18 and Vin III 43,13 and understands “checking on [my] father the Sakya Suddhodana’s affairs.”

There are a number of problems with these somewhat immature (āmapakva) considerations here. First, an “inspector” checking affairs is supposed to exercise control fully awake and concentrated and not to sit under a tree absentmindedly dosing off meditating. Moreover, it is worthwhile to have a closer look at the context of the references introduced by Dr. Drewes: Vassakāro brāhmaṇo … Rājagahe kammante anusaññāyamāno yena Gopālaka-Moggallānassa brāhmaṇassa kammanto … ten’ upasaṃkami, MN III 8,18-20 ≠ Vin III 43,13 “The Brahmin Vassakāro, while going to and inspecting the places of work 6 in Rājagaha, approached the place of work of the Brahmin Gopālaka Moggallāna.” Sanskrit anusaṃ √yā, Pāli anusaññāyamāno involves a movement and thus does not fit well with the following nisanno, MN I 246. Consequently, if the Pāli text is emended, the absolutive anusamyāyitvā, cf. upasaṃkramya, SBV I 107,23, “having gone to, followed” would make more sense. However, there is no need at all to emend the Pāli text which can easily be understood as “sitting in the shade near the place of (the field) work of my father.” Moreover, it is always dangerous to “correct” one tradition in the light of another, younger one. As this example nicely demonstrates, the text develops into three different directions probably during the transition from Middle Indic to Sanskrit: Various words are added: upasaṃgamya, anusaṃyāne, anusaṃyo(gya). This would not allow inferring an “original” wording. 7

The question remains, which kind of work is meant. The Bodhisatva sits under a Jambu tree. Consequently it is some occupation outdoors as probably most were in ancient India. This leaves a wide room for imagination. Śuddhodana might work as a carpenter or as a stone mason or whatever, or, as the tradition has it, plough his fields. The Theravāda commentary clearly is of this opinion and the Tibetan translation agrees with zhing (b)las kyi mtha translating “krṣikarmānta” or “kṣetrakarmānta” in both instances in the SBV. Moreover, Buddhist art shows Śuddhodana ploughing from the very beginning, when he is depicted working. 8 Why contradict the tradition by all means, if the text is well understood and makes sense within the story?

Moreover, Dr. Drewes (Drewes II, n. 10) suggests that the commentary on the Majjhimanikāya might evocate the myth of Sītā being ploughed out of a furrow by King Janaka with a golden plough. This idea is not exactly new. Already S. Pollock in his Rāmāyaṇa translation 9 compares the ploughing ceremony described in the Nidānakatha (Ja I 57) without, however, referring to a plough adorned with gold. This feature seems to be absent from the Sītā myth.

Looking a bit closer at this assumed parallel, differences become visible. First, Janaka’s ploughing was a singular event, while the commentary on the Majjhimanikāya has rañño kila vappamañgaladivaso, Ps II 290,13, which points to a royal ceremony regularly returning on a certain day of the year which was executed with a plough adorned with gold (ālambananañgalam pana rattasuvannaparikkhittam, Ps II 290,22). Moreover, Janaka used an ordinary plain plough before he was going to sow the seeds, if we listen to Sītā herself telling her story in the Ayodhyākānda of the Rāmāyana (critical edition): mithilādhipatir vīro janako nāma dharmavit, kṣatradharmany abhirato nyāyatah śāsti medinīm // tasya lāngalahastasya karṣatah kṣetramandalam, aham kilotthitā bhittvā jagatīm nrpateḥ sutā // sa māṃ drṣtvā narapatir, mustivikṣepatatparah …, Rām 2.110.26-28 (cf. sutā janakarājasya … utthitā medinīm bhittvā kṣetre halamukhakṣate, Rām 5.14.16 Sundarakānda). There is no “gold” on the plough here. Moreover, Sītā is unsurprisingly very dirty when she emerges out of the ground: pāṃśugunthitasarvāngīm, Rām 2.110.28 “my body all caked with dirt” (S. Pollock). This goes well together with a normal ploughing. She has not the radiant beauty one expects from any lady being ploughed out of the earth with a golden plough. 10 According to the commentaries, Janaka prepares the ground for a sacrifice (as prescribed in Taittirīya-Saṃhitā 5.2.52), although the scene as described in the Rāmāyana is just ordinary field work. No golden plough is in sight anywhere, not even in the commentaries. Perhaps the commentators of the Rāmāyana were equally embarrassed by a king ploughing as their Buddhist colleagues, when they, too, interpreted the event as ploughing connected to a ritual. 11 For, agriculture is not seen as a usual occupation of a kṣatriya, let alone of a king, cf. e.g.:

śauryam tejo dhṛtir dākṣyam yuddhe cāpy apalāyanam
dānam īśvarabhāvaś ca kṣatrakarma svabhāvajam
krṣigorakṣyavāṇijyaṃ vaiśyakarma svabhāvajam
Bhīṣmaparvan, Mahābhārata (critical edition) 6.40.43ff.

In Sītā’s story, the critical edition of the Rāmāyana characterizes Janaka as kṣatradharmany abhirato. However, the oldest manuscript N2 (AD 1050, Nepal) and, in addition, ten further manuscripts among them manuscript Ś1 (19th) century, north-western version), read kṣatrakarmani. This is probably the correct reading, because kṣatrakarmaṇ- is an ἅπαξ λεγόμενον in the Rāmāyana and very rare in the Mahābhārata (only the passage quoted above and Udyogaparvan, Mhbh 5.180.37 and the Sabhāparvan 2. Appendix 39,95), while kṣatradharma occurs very frequently. Therefore, a change kṣatrakarmany > kṣatradharmany is much more likely than the other way round. If kṣatrakarmany is original, one might go one step further and ask, if, given the speculations about kṣatra/ kṣetra, 12 kṣetrakarmany abhirato was, if not originally intended, at least in the mind of the author as a secondary possible understanding (the lonely manuscript M3 kṣetradharmany is of no value). However this may be, thinking of kṣetrakarmaṇ- would elegantly remove the perhaps embarrassing fact that a kṣatriya was ploughing (as does the ploughing ceremony invented in Theravāda sources), because, if King Janaka was “fond of farm work” (kṣetrakarmany abhirato), he, as a kṣatriya was not really acting beyond the limits of his varna-duties as described in the Mahābhārata and doing something inappropriate according to the feelings indirectly expressed by the commentators of the Rāmāyana. 13 The same would apply to the Purānas, which also refer to a sacrifice: tasya putrārthaṃ yajanabhuvaṃ kṛ̣̣atah sīre sītā duhitā samutpannā, Viṣnupurāna (GRETIL) 4.5.11 or tatah šīradhvajo jajñe yajñārthaṃ karṣato mahīṃ/sītā śīrāgrato jātā, Bhāgavatapurāna 9.13.18 (GRETIL) - again no gold in sight, let alone a golden plough. If all these interpretations should be considered as possible, Janaka (alias Sīradhvaja [or Śī-°]) as a king, “delighted in farm work” (kṣetrakarmany abhirato) was perhaps seen as a “green king” and hobby agriculturist. In sum, however, the thought provoking idea by Dr. Drewes even if it not does not really work out or has any bearing on the historical Buddha in the end, stimulates a closer look at an interesting little episode in the Ayodhyākānda.

Dr. Drewes ends his remarks on this episode by stating ”… field labor, there is no reason to think that this would have been something unusual for an ancient, non-royal kṣatriya to be involved with.” Agreed, but certainly the authors of the Mahābhārata would not join us nor would later Buddhists, who removed the reference to work from the episode as they did with the meeting with Upaka. 14 The problem arises only as soon as Śuddhodana is perceived as a king (śākyeśvara, Buddhacarita I 49; śākyarāja, I 88 etc.). His status as a kṣatriya is probably not really relevant.

Equally a little beside the point are the remarks on the place of enlightenment that follow. Dr. Drewes argues that we are unable to know the content of the enlightenment - of course we are unable to know that, because, one may add, it is next to impossible to really communicate a mystical insight. The next conclusion is a bit difficult to follow: “Even if it were possible to show that the Buddha was a historical figure, there is no way that we can treat the enlightenment as a historical event.” Why not? Why should not any religious teacher tell his pupils “while sitting here, I reached the enlightening insight”? Any professor may tell his students “I had a wonderful idea while sitting at my desk at home” and thus locate the place of his ground-breaking discoveries, even without communicating their content to anybody in order to keep them secret until publication - quite in contrast to the Buddha, who did not hold back any knowledge by making a dhammesu ācariyamutthi, DN II 100,4 “closed fist of a teacher in relation to the teaching.” Strangely, Dr. Drewes is of the opinion that we cannot know the place of the enlightenment because we cannot know its content.

Then Dr. Drewes lost his way a bit as I so deplorably often did in Dr. Drewes’ opinion in my previous article and lands suddenly at the place where the Buddha was born. He rightly points out that there almost certainly was a place of tree or yakṣa worship at Lumbinī before it became a Buddhist site. This repeats what has been said in BHP (note 9), when archaeological evidence possibly proving the existence of the Buddha was discussed and dismissed. Since the time of Aśoka, if not earlier, Lumbinī was considered the birth place of the Buddha (Suttanipāta 683, quoted BHP p. 237). Only this is of interest when looking at the historical Buddha, but obviously not to Dr. Drewes.

What remains to be said? It is sufficient to recall what has been said at some length on the date of the Mahāparibbānasuttanta and the foundation of Pāṭaliputta in the article “Hoary Past and Hazy Memory” (von Hinüber 2006 [2008]: 202ff.) to meet the respective criticism by Dr. Drewes. On the memory of historical events in general he seems to be a bit too pessimistic if he states “what we think of as history was unknown before Herodotus and Thucydides, and they lived half a world away. Even such things as annals or chronicles are unattested in India until significantly later times. The very notion of keeping an accurate record of things that happened, that there might be some value in doing such a thing, was not there.” Of course we all join Dr. Drewes when he deplores the absence of a Herodotus and a Thucydides in India. However, even if we have no annals, the content, e.g., of the Dīpavaṃsa reaches astonishingly far back into the past. 15 The Deorkothar inscription enumerates teachers and their pupils from the time of the Buddha. The lists of kings preserved in the Purānas are confirmed by inscriptions. 16 When Rudradāman rebuilds the Sudarśana Lake, he is well aware that this tank was constructed by a governor of Aśoka some 400 years ago (von Hinüber 2006 [2008]: 194ff.). These and other indications such as the genealogies of the later copper-plate grants, point to a vivid awareness of and interest in events in the past - historical memories largely without historiography: historiography should not be confused with historical memory. The point in BHP is that individual persons may have remembered the Buddha the same way as Dr. Drewes may have a historical memory of his certainly historical grand-father, indirectly even of his great grand-father (Nāgasena’s argument). Without being a Tacitus redivivus I do have some historical memory of my grandparents handed down in our family. Thus I do know, e.g., the house where my grandfather from my father’s side lived. It still exists, while the one of my grandfather from my mother’s side has fallen victim to the allied bombing during the Second World War. These bombings are my childhood memory, which thus comprises almost eighty years. Moreover, my grandfather from my father’s side died in 1912, thus personal historical memory easily spans more than a century. It is difficult to see, why this should have been different in ancient India and there is, consequently, no reason at all to doubt that the earliest Buddhist texts contain traces of a similar fragmentary memory of the Buddha, particularly, if the earliest texts were composed when persons who had this memory were still alive. Perhaps they really were, because it is said that some members of the second council had known the Buddha personally, and consequently remembered, what he said (Dīpavaṃsa IV 50). Therefore, there is no reason, why we should not try to look for these traces. In doing so, it should also be kept in mind that the past was remembered in ancient India in a way quite different from ancient Europe or our times. 17 It is always a “gilded past” that is remembered; a mythological past in ancient India, but a heroic past in ancient Europe and the “good old times” today.

Even if fragments of memory thus discovered, mostly under disguise, will never allow composing a full biography of the Buddha, their content very clearly points to memories of events that actually happened in history and, consequently, to a historical person. What else can we wish for?

The problem is not so much doubts about the existence of a historical person, but finding methods to recognize traces of historical memory. This closes the circle: Possible methods have been named at the beginning. Perhaps there are also other ways and means. Only reading the texts time and again helps to discover them and to make progress. As the classicist Ulrich v. Wilamowitz-Moellendorf (1848-1931) said long ago: “One should not talk about methods, but apply them (Über Methoden redet man nicht, man wendet sie an).”

At the end of his paper, Dr. Drewes criticizes the frequent use of wordings like “it strikes me …,” “it seems to me …”: “There is really nothing more robust than that behind anything that scholars have said …” Indeed, both wordings do occur in BHP that is under scrutiny, “it strikes me…,” however, only once - in a quotation from an article by Paul Harrison (BHP p. 252). “It seems…” or the like does occur more often, first in a quotation from an article by Dr. Drewes (BHP p. 231 “would seem”), next in the translation of a quotation from E. Waldschmidt (BHP p. 252). Further occurrences do not have any relation to the question of the historicity of the Buddha (with the exception perhaps of the one on p. 250 in BHP):

“seem to have escaped Dr. Drewes” (p. 231)
“the problem simply seems to have been overlooked” (p. 232)
“there does not seem to be a Sanskrit equivalent” (n. 36)
“it (the translation) seems to follow the Theravāda tradition” (p. 246)
“Bhikkhu Anālayo seems to hide the embarrassing wording” (n. 40)
“although this seems to be fairly obvious” (referring to an observation by
A. Bareau, p. 248)
“seems to have been overlooked so far” (p. 249)
“what seems to be personal memories” (p. 250)
“the conclusion … seems to be more than obvious” (but it is not, p. 254)
“it seems possible to accept with confidence” (de Jong’s conclusion, p. 256)
“it seems worthwhile to go back to the sources” (p. 264)

So, why the criticism? Equally enigmatic is the immediately following statement: “I fancy this, I fancy that.” Unfortunately, Dr. Drewes does not bother to reveal to his readers, what exactly happens in his imagination. What a pity! Hopefully it is not horrible nightmares of articles badly written by incompetent, “guessing” scholars which seems to be (oh dear! “seems” again!) unfortunately a likely possibility.

Stopping here, after having summed up as well as closed the discussion and after having seen, read, appreciated and greatly enjoyed Dr. Drewes’ ingenious and resourceful counterarguments or counterattacks rather, I am happy to end on a positive note and to gladly admit in unlimited admiration:

Ein großer Geist wie Drewes /drewes/ seiner
ist nicht so hilflos wie mein kleiner.
Denn wohl ist dem, der dann und wann
sich etwas Schönes dichten kann!
(after Wilhelm Busch, “Balduin Bählamm, der verhinderte Dichter”)

Abbreviations

The abbreviations used for Pāli and Sanskrit texts are those laid down in CPD, vol. 3, XV-XXVIII and in Bechert 1990.

  • BHP See von Hinüber 2019.
  • CPD III See Trenckner et al. 2011.
  • Drewes I See Drewes 2017.
  • Drewes II See D. Drewes’ article in the present volume, pp. 401-416.
  • GRETIL Göttingen Register of Electronic Texts in Indian Languages, SUB Göttingen

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  • Pollock, S., trans. 1986. The Rāmāyana of Vālmīki. Volume II: Ayodhyākānda. Princeton: Princeton University Press.
  • Schlingloff, D. 1987. “Die Meditation unter dem Jambu-Baum.” Wiener Zeitschrift für die Kunde Südasiens 31: 111-130.
  • Schneider, U. 1954. “Acht Etymologien aus dem Aggañña-sutta.” In Asiatica. Festschrift Friedrich Weller. Leipzig: Otto Harrassowitz: 575-583.
  • Trenckner, V. et al. 2011. A Critical Pāli Dictionary, begun by V. Trenckner. Vol. III. Continuing the Work of Dines Andersen, Helmer Smith, Ludwig Alsdorf, and Kenneth Roy Norman, edited by Oskar von Hinüber and Ole Holten Pind. Bristol and Copenhagen: The Pali Text Society, Det Kongelige Danske Videnskarbernes Selskab, Akademie der Wissenschaften und der Literatur, Mainz, Institut for Tværkulturelle og Regionale Studier, Københavns Universitet.

Footnotes

  1. It is my pleasure to thank the editors of JIABS to grant access to the first part of D. Drewes’ response to “The Buddha as a Historical Person” (von Hinüber 2019) in February 2023. The answer to D. Drewes, “A Historical Buddha After All?” (Drewes II) refers to this preprint version, not to the one read during the XIX-th IABS conference at Seoul, which is available in the internet. ↩ ↩2

  2. On this question cf. Faure 2018, quoted in BHP. ↩

  3. The editor(s) of the SBV refer to the Tibetan here without explaining the reason. This might mean that the word is not found in the Sanskrit text. ↩

  4. The text karmāntān anusaṃyān jambūchāyāyāṃ, SBV I 190,15 is wrong as it stands, because the combination °-n j-° does not exist. According to the Tibetan translation gzigs pa na the correct reading should be anusaṃyāne, cf. Aśoka Rock Edict IIIC anusaṃyānaṃ nikamantu etc. and Abhidharmakośabhāṣyasphuṭārtha: las kyi mtha’ la gzigs pa translating karmāntapratyavekṣana quoted in Negi 2003, s.v. gzigs pa; anusamyān may be a simple misprint. On the construction karmāntān anusaṃyāne see von Hinüber 2022: §§ 40-43. ↩

  5. Zhen Liu (2008: 120; quoted in Drewes II as p. 122) reconstructs and translates correctly anusamyo(gya) “begleitete,” cf. kammante payojeyya, DN I 71,31, while Dr. Drewes prefers the problematic anusaṃyān in the SBV (see n. 4 above) and reads karmāntān anusaṃy(ān) against the manuscript. ↩

  6. So NPED, again “especially the fields.” ↩

  7. The same is true for the Upaka story where there is no way back from the later wording sādhu sādhu to the original Theravāda text hupeyya. ↩

  8. The story of the first meditation is carefully investigated in art and literature by D. Schlingloff (1987), who also refers to earlier works by P. Horsch, who insisted on the authenticity of the episode, and H. Durt, who discusses later Chinese sources (1987: 114ff.). ↩

  9. Pollock 1986, note on Rām 5.110.27. ↩

  10. This expectation was clearly shared by the redactor(s) of manuscript B3, who insert(s) in spite of the dirt suvarṇapratimākārām atīva sumanoharām, Rām 2.110.2386* after verse 28 . ↩

  11. The additional verses Rām 2.110.2385* inserted in various manuscripts after verse 26 point into a similar direction. ↩

  12. Schneider 1954, particularly pp. 576-578. There is, however, no “old Prakrit form” (“eine alte präkritische Form,” p. 577) khetta for khatta. It is the phonetic similarity of both words that incited folk etymological speculations. The reading kṣetra for kṣatra in the Mahāvastu quoted by Schneider seems to be a late intruder as a random check in the new edition by K. Marciniak shows (cf. von Hinüber 2023: 25-95). It is not found in the old palm-leaf manuscript Sa , from which all other manuscripts are dependent. ↩

  13. The following commentaries accessible to me refer to a ritual ploughing: Govindarāja: Rāmāyaṇabhūṣaṇa (16th century), Maheśvaratīrtha: Tattvadīpikā, Nāgeśa Bhatṭa: Rāmāyaṇatilaka and Vaṃśīdhara Śivasahāya: Rāmāyaṇaśiromaṇi. The commentaries on the Rāmāyana are briefly discussed in Goldman 1984: 115. ↩

  14. Cf. Schlingloff 1987: 115 with n. 14. ↩

  15. On content and structure of the Dīpavaṃsa see E. Frauwallner 1984. ↩

  16. Von Hinüber and Skilling 2013 and von Hinüber and Nakanishi 2014: 23. ↩

  17. Cf. von Hinüber 2008: 26 (= 2019: 1220). ↩

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