This chapter starts with a rousing discussion of historical evidence for the dates of the birth and death of the Buddha. Suffice it to say that the best evidence shows he lived some time between 600 B.C. and 400 B.C.
Apparently there is some argument about whether or not the Buddha even existed; the main thesis - that the story of the Buddha's life sounds too much like a myth to be a true historical account - was developed by Emile Senart in the late 19th century. Senart's theory ignores the earliest documents concerning the Buddha, and hence is currently out of favor. At the other end of this argument, there exist relics (bits of bone) purported to be from the Buddha's body. Why exactly anyone cares about relics is beyond me.
Apparently no biographies of the Buddha were written while he lived. The earliest documents (those ignored by Senart) were written in the Pali language in the first century B.C. These documents cover certain parts of the Buddha's history: from his renunciation of home life to his enlightenment; from enlightenment until his recruitment of two disciples; and the period of the last three months of his life.
A later document was written in Sanskrit, around the start of the Christian era. Ch'en asserts that the Pali documents must be more reliable because they came earlier, but this seems a bit dubious. He then goes on to note that the Pali documents are more matter-of-fact, while the Sanskrit documents are filled with miraculous occurrences. At least, then, the Pali documents are easier to believe.
Ch'en goes on to say "in the case of the pious Buddhist reading the biographies of his teacher and master, he would make no distinction between ... the prosaic and the miraculous. To him, all biographies are trustworthy... for he believes the master was such a powerful and extraordinary individual that all things were possible for him." So says Ch'en, anyway.
The rest of the chapter gives the
usual stories, which in some ways parallel Christian stories about Jesus. Some of these stories are illustrated very beautifully in ancient paintings that are on view at the Rubin Museum of Art in NYC.
There's the conception. Somehow an elephant enters Maya (Buddha's mother) via her side; this represents the immaculate conception of the Buddha. Why it was necessary for the Buddha to change himself into an elephant in order to be conceived is not explained. Of course, this parallels the Christian immaculate conception.
At the Buddha's birth, a far-away sage becomes aware of the event, and flies through the air to the Buddha's house. The sage weeps at the idea that he will not live to hear the Buddha's teachings. Ch'en parallels this event with the Christian story of St Simeon and says it has been used as evidence for the interchange of ideas between Christian and Buddhist traditions.
Maya dies seven days after the birth of the Buddha, as is the "absolute rule" for the mother of the Buddha. Three potential supernatural reasons are given: 1) The Buddha supernaturally knew the date when the mother would die, and thus chose this woman as his mother. 2) The mother of the Buddha must never bear another child (not explained why) hence she must die soon after giving birth. 3) Since the Buddha would leave his home soon after marriage, the mother must die to spare her the heartbreak. All three of these "reasons" are bizarre, with the first being the only one that's not offensively condescending.
The Buddha was raised by an aunt and by his father, who was a king. He lived in the lap of luxury and had a high level of education, which included, among other things, the art of mounting an elephant.
The Pali documents simply say that he became troubled and disgusted when he found that he would be subject to old age, disease, sorrow, and death, but do not expand. Other documents explain in detail. At the birth of the Buddha, priests foretold that the youth would leave home when he saw four signs: the old man, the sick man, the dead corpse, and the beggar. So the Buddha's father conspired to make sure that such sights were forever kept from his son's eyes (an early Giuliani, if you will). It took until he was 29, married, and soon to be a father himself, before the Buddha eventually did see these people, one after another, on succeeding days (as it was to be, since it was prophecied). Ch'en: "When he saw the ascetic [beggar] with his calm and serene mien, he decided that such a life would provide the escape from the disgusting and sorrowful and meaningless luxury he was enjoying." This makes the Buddha sound like a bit of a masochist, or maybe a nutball, or potentially like a really spoiled brat who didn't know how good he had it. In any case, after seeing these men, he returned home, resolving to leave. He found a son had been born to him, but kept to his resolve in any case (also a very suspicious move, deserting his wife with a new-born son).
Then there's the story about how, on the night of his renunciation, he saw his female minstrels sleeping in a "disgusting" way, which makes you think the Buddha had been raised in such a refined way as to be a little bit too out of touch with reality for his own good. I mean, did he really think the ascetic beggar didn't ever sleep with his mouth hanging open?