Showing posts with label orality. Show all posts
Showing posts with label orality. Show all posts

Saturday, October 22, 2022

Mystery Histories - 6½ Including the 5 Chan


I wouldn’t expect you to remember a set of old Tibeto-logic blogs about the Nine Chan, Tibetan royal heirlooms of the imperial era that may have continued being passed down long after the fall of the empire in 842.* Today’s blog is a somewhat technical one about the distinct yet conceptually related set of Five Chan, a subset of the slightly larger set of 6½ early historical sources made use of in historical works of the late-12th-13th (and perhaps also 14th) centuries. After that we could say that they basically disappeared, for most part leaving behind hardly anything but traces. 

(*If you want to go back to look at the nine, start with the nine-year-old Regalia Untranslatable, Part One, and go on from there. If you want to schmoogle the newly published translation of the Long Deyu, the full title is A History of Buddhism in India and Tibet: An Expanded Version of the Dharma’s Origins Made by the Learned Scholar Deyu. You may want to look there to find relevant discussions and bibliographical references. For the classic original study on the Five Chan with discussion of their titles, see Samten G. Karmay's 1988 essay, “The Etiological Problem of the Yarlung Dynasty.”)

Why were the sets of nine and five objects associated with royalty all given names with the word Chan (ཅན་)? The names of each of the 14 objects share nearly identical syntax, typically five syllables in length, ending in that syllable chan that means ‘having.’ This means it possesses the mark or characteristic indicated in the (typically) two syllables that precede it. Another reason for the chan term has occurred to me — it turns out some parts of these objects are explicitly associated with the reign of Relpachan (རལ་པ་ཅན་) in the early 9th century so it may be they were called so as a homage to his name, which is actually a nickname meaning ‘Having Curls.’ Or perhaps I’ve gotten things backward. Did he received his nickname as a conscious homage to the objects?

The lists of five and nine have, besides their identical formal syntax, their own wildly differing spellings. Every main source is almost entirely unique in its ways of spelling them. This makes them more than likely to be misread and misinterpreted by us today, especially if we haven't done some preliminary homework. The spelling variants mostly result, I believe, from scribal hypercorrections (in which the scribe thinks she perceives a problem and imagines she knows what’s best), but they also result from misreading certain letters of the Tibetan cursive (dbu-med) script[s]. To non-Tibetanist readers that means the explanations are likely to prove opaque, and all I can do in response to their complaints is say how sorry I am.

Quite a number of works are explicitly referenced as source works in the Long Deyu, including histories and documents both available and unavailable to us today. Here, by way of introduction, I will briefly mention a few of them.

  • One less mysterious history that is referred to directly by name is the Bka'-chems. The Bka'-chems Ka-khol-ma is used as a source, cited as Bka'-chems in the Long Deyu, p. 277, and summarized in its following pages.  
  • Also, an early version of the biography of Vairocana, the Great Mask or 'Dra-'bag Chen-mo, although its title is not given, was the source for the account of Vairocana (Long Deyu, pp. 304-316). The Great Mask is well known and even exists in a fine English translation of one version, The Great Image.
  • One of the most intriguingly mysterious of the cited works is completely unavailable to the best of my knowledge. It is frequently quoted, mostly using the title Heap of Jewels or Rin-chen Spungs-pa, and the passages taken from it all concern royalty.

I just mention these examples of histories cited in the Deyu histories as a prelude to our main subject, since they are not included in the category of the 6½.

So now we’ll try to find our way through those 6½ titles with their variant spellings. You will have to agree to do some of the work of sorting and figuring things out. One shockingly old source for their names only came to my attention a few days ago, but I’ll put off talking about that one for a few minutes.

That the Five Chan date to the time of Emperor Relpachan seems proven in a passage in the quite early text entitled Chos-'byung-gi Yi-ge Zhib-mo, contained in: Rba-bzhed Phyogs-bsgrigs (2009), p. 222 (and notice also p. 65 of the same publication):  [1] Zangs-ma Mjug-ral-can.  [2] Rje'i Bka'-rtsigs-can.  [3] Yongs-dga' Lha-dgyes-can.  [4] Ltab-ma Dgu-rtsegs-can.  [5] Zings-po Sna-tshogs-can.  [6] Gsang-ba Phyag-rgya-can.  [7] Spun-po-can.  Although there are clearly seven titles, it says there are five*. These are listed among the accomplishments of Relpachan whose name is (I think it may not be an accident) also ending with can.  This passage corresponds to the Stein ed. of the Sba-bzhed, at p. 75:  zhang blon rnams la yo ga lha dges ban dang / ltab ma dgu tsag can dang / zings po sna tshogs can dang / gsang ba phyag rgya can dang / spun po can lnga gnang nas... 

(*Or maybe it is saying that of those listed five of them are 'long' (yun po) or supply coverage of the full length of the dynasty[? more on this odd term later]... anyway, 7 or rather 6½ is the usual number.)

One can compare this to the Nyang-ral history (1988 ed.), p. 393:  gzhan bka'i yig rtsis che chung / bka'i thang yig che chung / bka'i gtsigs kyi yi ge mang du yod do // gzhan yang rgyal rabs rkyang pa dang / khug pa / zings po can dang / yun po la sogs mang po yod do.  On p. 426, some of these histories are directly credited to the time of Relpachan (more evidence for them coming from his time, and the first listed is on prostrations and polite enquiries, not itself numbered among the 6½ but quoted at considerable length in the Long Deyu):  zhang blon rnams la phyag dang / snyung rmed btab ma dgu rtseg can dang / zings po sna tshogs can la sogs rigs mi 'dra ba sna tshogs gnang (the first shad punctuation is misplaced, and should come after the syllable rmed).  And, at the very end, at p. 501, in telling the sources he used for composing his Dharma Historyrgyal rabs gsang ba chos lugs dang / sgrags pa bon lugs / rkyang pa / khug pa / sbags [sbas] pa gsum / rgyal blon gab pa / yun po gser skas dgu pa / zings po sna tshogs can / de rnams kyi don dang ston pa'i gsung rab las byung ba dang / bla ma dam pa rnams kyi bka' lung dang / rgyal po'i bka' chems / so so skye bo'i bden pa'i ngag smra ba rnams...  (This bit is translated in Hirschberg's book Remembering the Lotus-born, p. 168.)

  • At this point I ask you to download a Word file containing a chart covering most of the main sources on the 6½ histories.  Just click once or twice on these words — “Mystery History 6½” — and you will be taken to a Dropbox site where you ought to download the doc file with ease (if you have trouble, try tapping on the three vertical dots to find the download button). You will see that there are four columns arranged chronologically according to the datings given to the historical writings. The idea is to place things side-by-side for easy comparison, and this is impossible to do within blog parameters.

Now I want to look at still further mysterious histories outside the category of the 6½, seeing that there is some overlapping. This also shows that still more mysterious histories remain out of our reach today.

In the Grub-mtha' by Rog Bande, p. 47 (in José Cabezón’s English translation, p. 92):

de rnams ni lha dang mi'i yul du ji ltar grags pa'i tshul lo /  lo rgyus de dag ni /  khams pa seng ge yis /  mdo khams smad kyi chos 'byung dang smri ti dznyā na kīr ti la dri ba'i the tshom bcad pa'i lo rgyus chen mo dag las ji ltar 'byung ba'i tshul brjod pa'o //

The pair of histories, mentioned as sources, include a Dharma History of Amdo by Khams-pa Seng-ge. This would likely be an account of the monastic revival that had its source in Amdo, but who knows... Who could believe that such an old history of Amdo could exist so long before it was even called by that name? The other one mentioned is a Great History (Lo-rgyus Chen-mo) that was meant to cut off doubts related to questions asked of Smṛtijñānakīrti. I doubt this last has anything to do with Khu-ston's Great History, although it may further fuel our perplexities. It appears that Smṛti’s text has been, at least in part, incorporated into the preceding pages of Rog Bande’s text — it retains the question and answer format — so not all is lost.

The Bka'-chems Ka-khol-ma (my 1989 edition), p. 235, says that for more detailed information on the supine demoness suppressing temples, see “the Bka'-chems Zla-ba 'Dod-'jo composed by the sixteen ministers and the Bka'-chems Dar-dkar Gsal-ba composed by the queens.” (And these two titles are distinct from the Rgyal-po'i Bka'-chems, which is the Ka-khol-ma itself.)  This same set of three is named by Nyang-ral (as noted in Tibetan Histories [1st ed.], no. 4).  One might wonder if these might be the actual rediscovered sources on which the Bka'-thang Sde Lnga was based, as three of its five books are likewise associated with kings, queens and ministers...

It seems to me there are a lot of interesting questions that haven’t even been asked yet, so forget about final conclusions, we just aren’t ready for them.


Too late for the book

To my chagrin, just yesterday I found, when looking for something else online, a fascinating essay, dated over a year ago, about an early history that was identified only recently. The translation of the Long Deyu history has already come out in July of 2022, which is anyway fortunate. I spent twelve years making this book and it simply had to walk off my desk at some point. How was I to know a small history book would emerge which, when it will in a future unknown date be made available, is going to be very important for several reasons, not least of all the  histories.  For one thing, it has its own odd spellings for their titles, and having at hand even more odd spellings might really help us come to well weighed decisions about their actual or original or intended meanings. The source of all my information on this newly noticed old manuscript is this essay, and this essay alone:

Rmog-ru Gnam-lha-tshe-ring, “Gsar du rnyed pa'i bod kyi dpe rnying phyag bris ma Chos 'byung gsal byed mig thur gyi 'grel pa la thog mar dpyad pa,” Krung go'i bod rig pa [published online] (January 27, 2021), in around 14 or 20 or so pages.

The title that appears on its title page is Chos-'byung Gsal-byed Mig-thur-gyi 'Grel-pa, ending with the usual zhes bya-ba bzhugs-so.  I will from now on call it the Mig-thur, a poetic title standing for the slightly longer Mig-gi Thur-ma, and that means a surgical instrument (thur-ma) used in the treatment of cataracts, making the blind or semi-blind to see clearly (metaphorically speaking: making plain as day the emergence of the Dharma, to interpret the Chos-’byung Gsal-byed part of the title).

The outline internal to this small text is not filled out completely, and the end is missing, so there is no way to know its author without locating a different complete copy somewhere (authorship statements for Tibetan books of earlier centuries were always found at the end, in a colophon). No form of its title seems to be available anywhere in the literature with one highly significant exception, the Small Deyu history. Since the Small Deyu, dating to around 1220 CE, apparently knew of this history, it would surely date from before that time.  It is only 17 or 18 folios (shog-ngos) in cursive script written seven lines to the page.

Like both Deyu histories, this is a commentary on a root text that is actually called "The Text" (gzhung) when it is quoted. This raises a very interesting question I’m afraid I can’t answer without looking at the manuscript itself, but we must wonder if The Text in all three texts might be the very same verse text by Deyu written in around 1180 CE. The essay writer Rmog-ru does supply one example of a single 9-syllable line the anonymously composed Long Deyu and the likewise anonymous Mig-thur both agree in attributing to The Text, but we cannot base a conclusion on that single suggestive example after all. The 9-syllable line is this one: “de nas snya khri btsan po byon pa la.”* 

(*There is a single spelling difference I won’t bother to point out since it really doesn’t matter. But okay, because you insist, gnya' in place of snya.)

The Mig-thur shows some similarities as well as differences in its overall outline. It promises to cover the following seven topics: [1] an accounting for the dynastic succession. [2] teaching the manner in which the texts of the Holy Dharma spread. [3] the manner in which the embers of the monastic community revived. [4] the way the old translations were preserved and taught. [5] the way the new translations were initiated. [6-7] how the teachings flourished and declined.

Here’s the passage from the Small Deyu that mentions the Mig-thur. It's on p. 90:  dam pa chos kyi 'brel rnam par bzhag pa chen po'i 'grel pa / gsal byed mig gi thur ma las / rgya gar du chos byon lugs yan chad bstan zin to //  Or to give it in Tibetan script: དམ་པ་ཆོས་ཀྱི་འབྲེལ་རྣམ་པར་བཞག་པ་ཆེན་པོའི་འགྲེལ་པ། གསལ་བྱེད་མིག་གི་ཐུར་མ་ལས།  རྒྱ་གར་དུ་ཆོས་བྱོན་ལུགས་ཡན་ཆད་བསྟན་ཟིན་ཏོ། 

This was noticed in Cabezon's appendix to his translation of Rog Bande’s Grub-mtha'. See his footnote 3 on p. 268:

Lde'u bsdus pa [i.e. Small Deyu], 90, ends the section on Indian Buddhism with the words, dam pa chos kyi 'brel (sic) rnam par bzhag pa chen mo'i 'grel pa/ gsal byed mig gi thur ma las/ rgya gar du chos byon lugs yan chad bstan zin to/, implying that it is itself a commentary on another work, which, if we ignore the problematic 'brel, would be rendered The Great Exposition of the Holy Dharma.”  

I don’t believe this is exactly on the mark. I think that this is just a colophon for the Indian Buddhism section (or the part of the text up to and including the Indian Buddhism section) of the Small Deyu itself (although the Small Deyu’s final colophon is lacking, and the front title added on by someone besides the author, here its original title of the work as a whole is seemingly betrayed), referring to itself as a commentary on the Gsal-byed Mig-gi Thur-ma. Gsal-byed Mig-thur could (with emphasis on the could) then be the poetic title for the root text in verse composed by Deyu in ca. 1180. It has to seem like clutching at straws, but even so I’ve never before imagined it would ever be possible to find out the title of the original verse work!

Now to get to our main point, here is Rmog-ru's report on the Mig-thur’s spellings of the titles of the 6½ histories that include the Five Chan (I am quoting a quotation, as I have no access to the manuscript, but this quotation ends with skad so it is by its own admission a quotation!):  can lnga ni yo ga lha gyes can / stab ma dgung rtsegs can / zis po 'go sngon can dang / gsang pa phyag rgya can dang / zags ma bzhugs rabs can dang / de ltar can lnga lo rgyus chen po dang drug ste / gsang ba yang chung bang so'i rabs yin pas de la phyed du 'jog pa lags so skad.

And Rmog-ru supplies yet another listing of the 6½ titles from the Mig-thur that includes names of authors:  pha ba bon pos brtsams pa yo ga lha gyes can / kyis b[r]tsams pa zang ma bzhugs rabs can / kyi nam gyis brtsams pa bzings pa 'go sngon can / zhang blon gyis brtsams pa stab ma dgu rtsegs can / rje nyid kyis mdzad pa gsang ba phyag rgya can dang lnga / de dge' bshes khu ston brtson 'grus kyis brtsams pa lol [!] non chen po 'am / lo rgyus chen po zer / gsang ba yang chu[ng] phyed du bzhag.

The most closely corresponding passage in the text of the Small Deyu (pp. 98-99) I supply for convenient comparison:  spa sa bon pos brtsams pa yo ga lha dgyes can / yab tshan 'bangs kyis brtsams pa thang ma jug dral can skye nam gyis brtsams pa zings po sna tshogs can / [99] zhang blon gyis rtsams pa ltab ma dgu brtsegs can / rje nyid kyis brtsams pa gsang pa phyag rgya can dang lnga / khu ston brtson grus kyis brtsams pa log non chen po dang drug / grongs nas bang so btab pa ni gsang pa yang chung dang phyed du bzhag go / / or, in Tibetan script: སྤ་ས་བོན་པོས་བརྩམས་པ་ཡོ་ག་ལྷ་དགྱེས་ཅན།  ཡབ་ཚན་འབངས་ཀྱིས་བརྩམས་པ་ཐང་མ་[99]འཇུག་དྲལ་ཅན་སྐྱེ་ནམ་གྱིས་བརྩམས་པ་ཟིངས་པོ་སྣ་ཚོགས་ཅན།  ཞང་བློན་གྱིས་བརྩམས་པ་ལྟབ་མ་དགུ་བརྩེགས་ཅན།  རྗེ་ཉིད་ཀྱིས་བརྩམས་པ་གསང་བ་ཕྱག་རྒྱ་ཅན་དང་ལྔ།  ཁུ་སྟོན་བརྩོན་འགྲུས་ཀྱིས་བརྩམས་པ་ལོག་ནོན་ཆེན་པོ་དང་དྲུག གྲོངས་ནས་བང་སོ་བཏབ་པ་ནི་གསང་པ་ཡང་ཆུང་དང་ཕྱེད་དུ་བཞག་གོ ། (A kind of translation of this very passage appears in the Appendix B as part of the notes on Sha-bo’s essay.)

So to bring this confection, over-sweetened as it is by complications, to its bittersweet end, all I can say is we will have to wait until a full facsimile of the Mig-thur appears before we can be very sure about a lot that is pertinent to the Deyu histories. It’s possible we may have to expand the corpus of Deyu histories to encompass the Mig-thur. We may want to welcome it into the family. The possibility looms over us that Mig-thur is the original title for the root verses of ca. 1180. Some of the conclusions put forward in the introduction to the translation of the Long Deyu might require a little revision. We will see... with its help.




Appendix A - on a passage in the Dynastic History of Ladakh:

La dwags rgyal rabs (A.H. Francke, Antiquities of Indian Tibet, vol. 2, p. 28, with English translation on p. 76) has a very obscure reference: rigs brgyud kyi rgyal po ni spu rgyal bod kyi rgyal po yin te / 'di bshad lugs mang du ma mchis te / rgyal rabs spun po gsum khug blon po'i rgyal mtshan / gsang ba 'am 'bru bdus la sogs pa mang du yod kyang / bsdus na / gnyis legs skad / bsgrags pa / lha rabs bon lugs dang / gsang ba / mi rabs chos lugs so.* [Note: the spun-po here is clearly the same as the yun-po found elsewhere... more on this below.]  

(*E. Haarh's Yar-lun Dynasty book, at p. 170, supplies the same passage, and an English translation is ventured there on p. 170 as well as on p. 198, and see also the inconclusive discussion in note 6 on p. 445.)


The close parallel to the just-given quote from the History of Ladakh is in the mid-18th-century history by Tshe-dbang-nor-bu contained in Bod-kyi Lo-rgyus Deb-ther Khag Lnga, at p. 171 (he appears to be directly drawing from the History of Ladakh passage, but there is a significant difference or two):  

da ni pur rgyal bod kyi rgyal po ji ltar byung ba'i tshul ni / 'di bshad pa lugs mang du mchis te / rgyal rabs yun po gsum zhug blon po'i rgyal mtshan / gsang ba 'am 'bru btus la sogs pa mang du yod kyang bsdus na gnyis lags skad / sgrags pa lha rabs bon lugs dang / gsang ba mi rabs chos lugs so.


Appendix B - containing notes to a modern essay  by Sha-bo Mkha’-byams:

Source:  Sha-bo Mkha’-byams, “Rgyal rabs Gsang ba yang chung dang de’i rin thang skor gyi thog ma’i dpyad gleng,” Qinghai University for Nationalities Journal, issue no. 2 of the year 2014. My notes from it follow in blue letters (if the text is in grey these my own comments):

p. 1 (there are no page numbers on the pages):

The Rgyal-rabs Gsang-ba Yang-chung is first mentioned in the Nyi-ma'i Rigs-kyi Rgyal-rabs by Grags-pa-rgyal-mtshan. My note: But this history dates to mid-15th century, so I wouldn’t call it the first.

In the Sba-bzhed Zhabs-btags-ma (2010 ed.), p 240, we find the first appearance of the titles of the Five Chan:  “yo ga lha dges ban dang / lta ma dgu tsag can dang / zings po sna tshogs can dang / gsang ba phyag rgya can dang / spun po can [~yun po can?] lnga.”

In the Small Deyu which I date to ca. 1220 CE (in the 1987 edition, pp. 98-99), we find the expression of the six and a half histories: 

1. Spa-sa Bon-po’s composition Yo-ga Lha-dgyes-can. 

2. Yab-tshan-’bangs's composition Thang-ma 'Jug-dral-can.

3. Skye-nam’s composition Zings-po Sna-tshogs-can. 

4. Zhang-blon’s composition Ltab-ma Dgu-brtsegs-can. 

5. The ruler’s own composition Gsang-ba Phyag-rgya-can. 

6. Khu-ston Brtson-’grus’s composition Log-non Chen-po. 

& ½.  The foundings of burial mounds after the rulers’ deaths, Gsang-ba Yang-chung.  

But then he notices that the Gsang-ba Yang-chung is not included in the listing in Nyang-ral’s history that he dates to 12th century (2010 ed.), pp. 459, 463:

1. Bon-po’i Yi-ge Lha-dge-can.

2. Gnam nas babs zhes bsgrags pa’i lugs / rje nyid gsung ba Phyag-rgya-can /

3. Rgya gar rgyal phran rgyud par ’dod / de nas gleng ba’i zhib gtsang gsum / rkyang ba gcig rgyud brtsi ba yin / de min Za-gzhug Rgan-rabs-can /

4. Khug pa yum sgam smros pa la / Dab-ma Dgu-rtseg-can zhes bya /

5. Yun po rgyas bshad yin pa la / Zing-po Sna-tshogs-can du grags ces dang /

My note: But it is only to be expected that the Gsang-ba Yang-chung would not be in this list of the Five Chan. It belongs to the larger class of 6½.


p. 2:

He reports on how Samten Karmay said that this is the earliest, most extensive and authentic text on the subject of Tibetan royal tombs.  (However, the author Sha-bo himself believes, after comparing two other accounts of the tombs, that it was either edited down by the Long Deyu author, or that it is incomplete, or just that there are various editions [par gzhi]. Note to myself: I should look into this more.)


p. 3:

In the Sba-bzhed Zhabs-btags-ma it says that the Five Chan belong to the time of Relpachan...

Sha-bo quotes from Bla-dwags Rgyal-rabs 'Chi-med Gter of Joseb Gergan (1976 ed., pp. 62-63).  It says the history is called Spun-po because it contains a list of Father, Mother, Son, Minister, years in power, age at death, place of tomb.  (My note: some say spun-pa is bstun-pa, something like a correlation, and of course, there is also the reading yun-po...)  Actually, in Gergan's history there are two discussions of these sources, the first on p. 50 (I follow the original publication rather than the quotation):  

spu rgyal bod kyi rgyal po yin / 'di bshad pa la mang du mchis te / rgyal rabs spun po / gsum khug blon pos brgyan / gsang ba'am 'bru btus la sogs pa mang du yod kyang / bsdu na gnyis lags skad / bsgrags pa lha rabs bon lugs dang / bsang ba [~gsang ba] mi rabs chos lugs so.

and then at p. 60:  

glo bur bod kyi rgyal po'i lo rgyus la gsum ste / grags pa lha rabs bstod rar gleng ba dang gcig / smad pa tsha zhang skyon brjod zhang blon gyi lugs su gleng ba dang gnyis / gsang ba mi rabs chos lugs ma bstod ma smad par drang por gleng ba dang gsum mo //  

de la sgrags pa'i dbang du bgyis na / dang po 'dre mgo nag la rje med / gug ron rngogs chags la rkyen bu med / lha ri gyang ta'i kha na / [p. 51] phywa'i rgan mo cig gis lha byon lan gsum bnas pas / lha'i nal phrug cig 'ong pa la / ... 

My note: That amazing word gug-ron you see just above (and again in Gergan’s book, p. 63) I dare you to find in any dictionary. It has to be explained as an Old Tibetan word for 'steed' gu-rub, spelled a number of different ways: gu-ru, gu-rug, gu-rum, go-ru, mgo-ro, gong-ru, gu-rug.  I know how crazy I must sound right now. For the parallel expressions in the Long Deyu, see its English translation at footnote no. 1565, with an explanation of the term rkyen-bu, still another term not in the dictionaries. You can see it spelled skyen-pu in Gergan’s book, p. 53.

and at Gergan’s pp. 62-63: 

rgyal rabs ltar rnam pa bzhi ste / rgyal rabs spun po shwa ba khyis 'ded pa ltar gleng ba dang / rgyal gcig blon gcig gser mig g.yu yis spras pa ltar gleng ba dang / khug pa spyang mo bu stor ba ltar gleng ba dang / rgyal rabs rkyang pa 'gron po lam du zhugs pa ltar gleng ba dang bzhi lags skad //  

de la spun po zhes pa ni / yab dang yum dang sras dang blon po dang chab srid lo tsam bzung ba dang / tha gang du grongs pa dang / bang so gang du btab pa ste / de rnams la spun po zhes bya'o //  

khug pa bya ba ni yab yum sras dang gsum mo / 

rgyal gcig blon gcig gser mig g.yus spras pa'o // 

rgyal rabs rkyang pa ni / che longs tsam zhig / sku tshe gang tsam dang / yab la sras gang 'khrungs ces pa'o // 'di ni mgo zlum das chad bzhin no //  

My note: In the last line, this apparent text title (maybe name of an informant?) Mgo-zlum Das-chad is cited again on pp. 52 and 73. I’m mystified by it, but perhaps it is an account of how the bald-pated ones or rather dome-headed ones, probably meaning the monks, went out of existence..., but no, that doesn't seem to work... There may be help in an especially unclear passage in Nyang-ral’s history, 1988 ed., p. 459, where it tells us one of the disasters that happened when Tibet went to pieces after 842: ཡོངས་གྲགས་※མགོ་རེག་※ཟེར་ར་ཆོད་〈རས་གཅོད་〉བྱེད།  I could use some help here.*

(*I just went to look more at Gergan’s history and found on its page 9 an explanation of Mgo-zlum as a word for ‘human’ (evidently because “round head” is a poetic epithet for humans in general, not just monks), while Das-chad means Lo-rgyus or 'history.' But in what language does Das-chad mean “history’? Definitely not Tibetan... perhaps Urdu? I understand it was just a year ago that Ladakh dropped the Urdu requirement for placement in civil service jobs, but it’s widely known in the region in any case. Certainly Gergan knew Urdu, too. If das-chad is Tibetan 'das-[m]chad, I suppose it could refer to funerary rites.)

In Gergan’s understanding there are four different styles of relaying information, of speaking about, the Tibetan dynastic history: [1] the spun-po style gives the most details about family members, length of reign and burial site. This is likened to the dog leading the deer.  [2] the 'one king one minister' type in which one king and one minister [are named], likened to a turquoise in a gold setting. [3] the khug-pa style just names father, mother and child. It is likened to a wolf mother whose child is missing. [4] the rkyang-pa style only supplies the most general information, like only the length of reign, or only what children were born to one father. It is likened to a traveler setting out on the road.

I will have to rethink and go over all of this again to be sure of drawing the right meanings from it. I just have to say that the word spun-po, that often appears as yun-po* is one of the important keys to knowing how imperial and post-imperial Tibetans used to talk about their history. Oral literature styles of transmission could very well have a lot to do with it, which does make matters so much more difficult and interesting. But oh well, isn’t it true that there is a certain satisfaction to be gained by seeing part way into an area that had previously been almost entirely shrouded in mountain mists?**

(*That problem of scribes misreading cursive letters is so much in evidence here; and we might note that khug-pa sometimes appears, for example in the Tshe-dbang-nor-bu passage quoted above, as zhug[-pa]. The very frequency of misspellings can tell us that the concepts became less and less familiar as time went by... I haven't ventured to translate these key terms yet for reasons such as these.)  

(**We ought to pause to consider for a moment how it could be that this 20th-century Ladakhi Moravian Christian intellectual came across all his amazingly extensive material about kingship and clan history. The well-known Tibetan scholar T.T.J. told me a few decades ago what an outstanding resource the Joseph Gergan (ཡོ་སེབ་དགེ་རྒན་) history is, and I agree, we simply must find ways to compensate for the neglect it has so far suffered in our work.) 


§   §   §


PS (October 24, 2022): I nearly forgot, but I did want to say how I finally ended up translating the titles of the 6½. You can find out in this paragraph from the published translation of the Long Deyu, at p. 436:


“The Five Can plus the Great Quelling of Revolts, with the Extra Small Secret being half,” it says. There are six-and-one-half writings that discuss Tibet’s incidental kings. These histories are: Splitting Off from the Gods of the Firmament, The Original One with the Seating Order, Accordion-Style Document with Stack of Nine, Miscellany with the Blue Head-Page, Confidential Sealed Document, Great Account, also known as Great Quelling of Revolts, composed by Dge-bshes Khu and Rgya Lha-po, and last of these is Extra Small Secret, which, being about the generations of tomb building for the deceased emperors, is left for a half. These cover the early divine generations, the intervening period of expanding royal dominion, and finally the way the divided dominion or the fragmentation came about.”

°

PS (May 22, 2023): In case you haven’t had enough, I at long last succeeded in uploading visual images of my ordered notes, in tables format, in a website posting at Tiblical entitled “Mystery Histories, the .” It covers the main early textual evidence about their titles, authors and so forth. Go ahead and have a look at it.

https://sites.google.com/site/tiblical/mystery-histories-the-6

Wednesday, August 12, 2009

The Paw This Time


The sub-title this time ought to be something like ‘Grasping at the Grasper,’ or maybe more to the point, ‘Fool Me Thrice? Shame on the Both of Us!’ Maybe the next time ought to be ‘We Both Fool Each Other? Shame on Neither of Us!’

Sorry, just joking... About that last part being a future blog title, I mean.

I hope you can remember from the latest Tibeto-logic blog the main story of The Monkey Heart, along with the additional episode of The Talking Cave (Die sprechende Höhle, for the one reader who prefers German). Both parties involved in the two stories, the monkey side and the turtle side, have their wants, hungers and emotional needs. And each side uses what seem like sensible ways to go about finding satisfaction. To show this kind of interpersonal dynamic, & not just to entertain, is surely an important motive for telling the story to begin with. You may not have noticed how I skipped the brief frame story that conveys the circumstances of its telling.

As always, the Buddha has very present circumstances that bring him to call up the stories of his, and others’, previous lives. In this case, the monkey is identified as a prior incarnation of Himself, the future Śākyamuni, while the turtle/crocodile is His cousin Devadatta. Later on I’ll refer you to a source on the elaborate tricks Devadatta tries to play on his cousin, some of them quite murderous in intent. It might be fun to one day do a close comparison between the deeds of the animals and those of the cousins and draw out parallels that may or may not have been intended, but for now I’d like to keep on track and go on to visit a mysterious third episode.

In 1957, Rodney Needham, who would later evolve into the well-known Oxford social anthropologist by the same name, published a set of eight tales from a place in the eastern Indonesian island called Sumba. They were collected for him by a local assistant named M. Maru Mahemba. Number Four of the eight is “The Crocodile and the Monkey." I won’t copy or tell over the somewhat different episodes of The Monkey Heart and The Talking Cave. I’ll just quote directly a brief third episode that is squeezed between the other two.

The next day, in the morning, the crocodile came back to the place where he had met the monkey, and saw the monkey drawing water. The crocodile drew near, disguising himself as a floating log. He stretched out slowly and seized the monkey’s paw. But the monkey did not lose his presence of mind, and immediately laughed like mad, saying, “Who has been so silly as to grab the branch of a tree, thinking it to be the paw of a monkey?" When the crocodile heard this he let go of the monkey’s paw. 
As soon as he was free of the grip of the crocodile the monkey ran up a tree and called out, “Hey, friend crocodile, let us play at riddles." 
“All right," said the crocodile, and the monkey pronounced his riddle. “Friend crocodile who is very stupid was tricked by a small and humble monkey, so that he let go the monkey’s paw when he had seized it."

Needham came back to examine his Kodi Fable no. 4 more closely a few years later, in 1960. He divided it into three episodes, just as we have done above. He finds that while The Monkey Heart is in all recensions of the Pañcatantra, The Talking Cave is in only a few versions, and the two episodes are never found together there as they are in the Tibetan and Kodi versions.

He turns to the Jātaka collection in Pāli language, and finds that the main narratives of The Monkey Heart are found in the Vānara Jātaka (no. 342), and in greater detail the Sumsumāra Jātaka (no. 208). The only one that includes anything close to The Talking Cave as part of its version of The Monkey Heart is the Vānarinda Jātaka (no. 57), but even then it’s a talking stone and not a talking cave, although the narrative structure is rather similar.

Needham found neither a Jātaka source nor a Pañcatantra source for The Monkey Paw episode. He locates several versions of it in insular SE Asia and in Malaysia, with slight variants. Sometimes the monkey tells the crocodile that what he’s grabbed hold of is not a monkey paw, but a piece of wood, or nothing but the root of a tree, a stick for measuring the depth of the water, and so on. Nowhere is it made explicit, but I believe we have to understand that the monkey is partly submerged in the muddy water so that the crocodile is unable to see what exactly he has bitten.
Here’s the version from Timor (see Middelkoop’s article):

Not so long after that, the crocodile took hold of the monkey’s leg; the monkey became aware of the crocodile taking hold of his leg and suddenly played the crocodile a trick, saying: “Why, dear friend! Do you think you have gripped my leg? It will be a real shame for you, because you are very stupid. You took hold of the root of a tree." The crocodile thought: “Maybe what, he tells me is right." Shortly afterwards he released the monkey’s leg. Thereafter the monkey and the crocodile lived in hostility with each other until the present day.

Needham apologizes for being too tedious, as I would, too, if I were feeling in a kinder mood, and then goes into (pp. 246-8) nine versions of The Monkey Paw collected from different parts of India. His conclusion is worth quoting: “[T]his is one of the oldest, as well as one of the commonest of Indian tales. The talking-cave motif has literary predecessors by which its age may be known : the monkey/jackal-paw motif has none, but its constant association with the former in Indian folklore suggests that it may be equally old."

So, The Monkey Paw has no datable classical Indian literary occurrences? Not so any more, or not exactly so. We do have a South Indian in southern Tibet who makes mention of it about eight centuries before the Indian and Indonesian versions were put into writing.

Can we use our understandings of the more recent versions to document the meaning of the first literary occurrence? Don’t historical developments have to flow forward in time? And our understandings as historians of culture along with them? Forward? It’s probably forbidden by all the rulebooks of philology known to the modern academy to use newer sources to document older meanings. There may be good reasons for upholding this kind of logic. But I think there are also good reasons for flexibility when it’s called for. We simply must not be so utterly married to the datable evidence of compositions and their physical manuscripts that we refuse to give weight to oral transmission. And this ought to hold in matters of folk stories as much as in the extremely rarified, secret Bön and Buddhist spiritual transmissions Tibetans describe as being ‘passed from mouth to ear’ (kha-nas snyan-du brgyud-pa, usually shortened to snyan-brgyud).

56. The turtle has gotten a monkey claw, no reason not to eat it in caustic solution.

According to my latest way of reading this gnomic saying of Padampa we’re supposed to already know the story of the turtle and the monkey with its various (2 or 3?) episodes. Evidently everybody in India knew it, but I’m not so sure if our commentary writer did. Today we can know for certain, with our folkloristic knowledge gained in the last two centuries, that the turtle never does get that monkey claw. (Or, OK, he got it momentarily, but was misled into thinking he didn't and lost it...) So the absence of the claw entails the ‘why not?’ of the instructions to wash it in something that would anyway dissolve it away before he could get a chance to eat it. The words ‘no reason not to eat’ could also be translated, more literally, ‘no contradiction in eating.’

No reason why I shouldn’t end here... but one thing more.

The combination of elements in Padampa’s metaphor and in the folk story are just too similar to be accidental. Still, if you are the skeptical type, as we all tend to be in one area or another, you might ask, ‘How can you be so sure that Padampa knew The Monkey & Turtle story?’ Well, I can’t be entirely sure. But I did notice something that might be suggestive. This passage from a text translated by — and possibly also revealed to — Padampa that is included in the Tanjur entitled The Dakini’s Soft Song, mentions a ‘monkey[s] without a heart,’ which does appear to allude to The Monkey Heart episode. In any case, it’s very much about desire, which plays a very central role in my reading of Padampa’s animal metaphor 56. It is section 9 of the text according to my own added numbering:

’dod-pa dug-gi sdong-po-la //
spang blang gnyis-kyi yan-lag gyes //
zhen-pa’i lo-mdab phyogs bcur rgyas //
rtsol-sgrub-kyi me-tog mkha’-la ’phur //
sdug-bsngal-gyi ’bras-bu thur-la brul //
snying-med-kyi spre’u bsgrubs-kyi za //
’khor-ba’i nags-su ’chi nyen yod //

yan-lag : C yal-ga; T yas-ga. lo-mdab : CT lo-’dab. rtsol-sgrub-kyi : C rtsol-bsgrub-kyi. sdug-bsngal-gyi : T sdug-bsngal-gyis. thur-la : C thang-la. spre’u : C spri’u. ’chi : ’ching.


From the trunk of the poison tree named desire
two limbs fork out called acceptance and rejection
and from them leaves of addiction grow in every direction.
The flowers known as striving and toil fly up toward the sky
while the fruits we call suffering hang down heavily.
The no-heart monkey[s], whose prasad food offerings [these fruits are],*
lies next to death’s door in the forest of sangsara.

*(Snying-po med-pa is probably meant in the positive philosophical sense of being without essence, as all things are in Buddhism’s non-essentialist philosophies. But this is no proof that The Monkey Heart isn’t also alluded to here. It is entirely possible that in Padampa’s use of the story, he reads the significance of the ‘heart’ that the monkey may or may not have in the very same philosophical light. My understanding of bsgrubs-kyi za as ‘prasad food offerings’ is based on reverse translation into Sanskrit, and is anyway provisional... I didn't know what else to do with this phrase... Do you?)

sna-tshogs zhen-med-kyi skyes-bu-yis //
gdang ’gyur-ba med-pa’i mtshon thogs-te //
’dod-pa’i sdong-po rmang-nas bsgyel //
dug lnga’i ’bras-bu sngo bskams byer //
dug ’chi-byed-kyi nus-pa zad-par gyis //
khyod zhe-’dod spongs-shig rnal-’byor-pa //
gdang : C rdeng; T gdong. bsgyel : C dgyel. bskams : C skams. byer : CT khyer. spongs-shig : C spongs-gcig.

The persons who are not addicted to the myriad things
wield as their unchanging weapon confidence,*
razing the tree trunk of desire from its very foundations.
The green fruits of the five poisons they dry up and split open.
They make the poison exhaust its death-dealing force.
You must give up desirous inclinations, my yogis.

(*I chose none of the 3 varying readings and settled on gdengs, ‘confidence.’ I don’t have very much confidence in my choice, and my best argument for it is just that it fits better than the alternatives. There are traditional lists of confidences, and in one known to the early Zhijé school, they are the three confidences of view, meditation and action.)

(Poison fruits and their reflections,
both apparently there for the grasping)



More reading —

Dakinis’ Soft Song. This is Ḍākinī-tanu-gīti (Mkha’ ’gro ma’i ’jam glu; or, ’Byam glu). Tôhoku catalog no. 2451. Dergé Tanjur, vol. ZI, folios 88‑90. Although the colophon isn’t very informative, we do know that it is part of a collection of works Padampa redacted and/or translated. And we do find it in the Zhijé Collection, vol. 1, pp. 359-367, where the Sanskrit is given in a Tibskrit version as: Dha ki ni ta la ghi ta na ma. I’m not sure of the significance of the title, where the word for ‘soft, gentle’ might just point to the metre used in its composition. If we read tāla instead of tanu, perhaps it has something to do with clapping, or dancing that includes clapping. Maybe a real Indo-logical person would like to weigh in on this?

P. Middelkoop, A Timorese Myth and Three Fables, Bijdragen tot de Taal-, Land- en Volkenkunde [Leiden], vol. 115, no. 2 (1959), pp. 157-175. The quote is from the final page. The home page of the BTLV journal is here, and you might be able to download the PDFs for this and the two Needham articles there. Give it a try.

Rodney Needham (1923-2006), Kodi Fables, Bijdragen tot de Taal-, Land- en Volkenkunde [Leiden], vol. 113, no. 4 (1957), pp. 361-379.

Rodney Needham, Jātaka, Pañcatantra, and Kodi Fables, Bijdragen tot de Taal-, Land- en Volkenkunde [Leiden], vol. 116, no. 2 (1960), pp. 232-262.
I mainly know Rodney Needham for something he wrote much later, in 1963 — his brilliantly subversive preface to his own translation into English of Primitive Classification (first published in French in 1903 as a journal article, De quelques formes primitives de classification) by Emile Durkheim (1858-1917) & Marcel Mauss (1872-1950), in which he, Needham, completely pulls the rug out from under their main ideas, especially the idea that human thought itself, including its classifications, came into existence because of archaic social divisions (a crucial point for those who want to believe in the primacy of ‘the social’ and hence the primacy of socio-logical ideas in general... the same people who want to think of society as sui generis, a fancy legalistic-sounding claim that it, society, is the source of all causation and is not itself a product of causes outside itself... Nowadays even some sociologists would view this as ‘essentialism,’ which for Buddhists, also, is not a good thing... Among Buddhists, the absence of essence is what they are talking about when they do at times use words that mean ‘essence’...). One reviewer called R.N.’s preface “devastating, essentially ruthless, and to some extent bewildering and intellectually arrogant.” (Harry Alpert, who had already made a career of his Durkheimianism) Mind you, that’s the same preface I admire and call ‘brilliant.’ Where I see divine nectar in the Gangga, H.A. saw a river flowing with blood and pus. Interesting... Where do we go with that?

// + \\ + // + \\ + // + \\ + // + \\

Look online (as if you weren’t already) —

If you want to read the text or hear the audio recording of the Korean Monkey Rabbit version (in English) try here.

For a mapping of the distribution of type 91 folktales, look here.

There was a recent news release telling how modern scientists have discovered that at least one kind of animal behavior as recounted in old fables (in this case Aesop’s) might be observable nowadays and (therefore?) true. Look here.

Look at this photo by Samrat of a stone carving from a 6th-century Indian temple in Sirpur and compare it to the Borobudur frieze linked in the last Tibeto-logic blog.

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Interested a little in knowing Buddha’s relatives? Siddhārtha - དོན་གྲུབ་, the young man who came to be called the Buddha after His Awakening, had a brother named Nanda, and a cousin named Ānanda.* Cousin Ānanda (son of Amṛtodana; in Tibetan Dütsizé or Bdud-rtsi-zas - བདུད་རྩི་ཟས་) was Siddhārtha’s most devoted follower and the one who best memorized the words of the Teacher. The other cousin of the Buddha was Devadatta (also son of Amṛtodana), the polar opposite. Devadatta (Tib. Lhejin, Lhas-sbyin - ལྷས་སྦྱིན་,‘God[s]-Given’) tried several times to kill the Buddha, rolling boulders on top of him, sending raging bull elephants in his direction and, failing at these attempts, decided he would found his own counter-order with extra-added monastic rules that would justify his own followers’ claim to be more pure than the Buddha’s. There are some stories that in the end Devadatta was swallowed up by the ground and went straight to hell. Yet other stories have him eventually, against all the odds, brought on board by the Buddha, and placed on the Path to Enlightenment. For a little more background you can try this webpage, or the wiki, or whatever else might turn up from a schmoogle search. I could give you a bibliography of more technical publications in some rather obscure journals, but would you hunt them down and read them? Didn’t think so.
*(They should not be confused, although it’s true it’s been done... Nanda is Gawo [Dga’-bo - དགའ་བོ་] in Tibetan, while Ānanda is Künga [Kun-dga’ - ཀུན་དགའ་]... This last name, Künga, is also the name of Padampa’s most devoted follower and the one who best memorized the words of his teacher...)

∆Ω∆Ω∆Ω∆Ω∆Ω∆Ω∆Ω∆Ω∆Ω∆

. . .
And it grew both day and night,
Till it bore an apple bright.
And my foe beheld it shine.
And he knew that it was mine,

And into my garden stole
When the night had veiled the pole;
In the morning glad I see
My foe outstretched beneath the tree.

-Wm. Blake, A Poison Tree





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