THE JĀTAKA OR STORIES OF THE BUDDHA'S FORMER BIRTHS (Book -3) -3

THE JĀTAKA

OR

STORIES OF THE BUDDHA'S FORMER BIRTHS

No. 272.

VYAGGHA-JĀTAKA.

"What time the nearness," etc.--[356] This story the Master told whilst living at Jetavana, about Kokālika 1. The circumstances of this story will be given in the Thirteenth Book, and the Takkāriya-jātaka 2. Here again Kokālika said, "I will take Sāriputta and Moggallāna with me." So having left Kokālika's country, he travelled to Jetavana, greeted the Master, and went on to the
  Elders. He said, "Friends, the citizens of Kokālika's country summon you. Let us go thither!!" "Go yourself, friend, we won't," was the answer. After this refusal he went away by himself.
The Brethren got talking about this in the Hall of Truth. "Friend! Kokālika can't live either with Sāriputta and Moggallāna, or without them! He can't put up with their room or their company!" The Master came in, and enquired what they were all talking about together. They told him. He said, "In olden days, just as now, Kokālika couldn't live with Sāriputta and Moggallāna, or without them." And he told a story.

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Once upon a time, when Brahmadatta was king of Benares, the Bodhisatta was a tree-spirit living in a wood. Not far from his abode lived another tree-spirit, in a great monarch of the forest. In the same forest dwelt a lion and a tiger. For fear of them no one durst till the earth, or cut down a tree, no one could even pause to look at it, And the lion and tiger used to kill and eat all manner of creatures; and what remained after eating, they left on the spot and departed, so that the forest was full of foul decaying stench.
The other spirit, being foolish and knowing neither reason nor unreason, one day bespoke thus the Bodhisatta:
"Good friend, the forest is full of foul stench all because of this lion and this tiger. I will drive then away."
Said he, "Good friend, it is just these two creatures [357] that protect our homes. Once they are driven off, our homes will be made desolate. If men see not the lion and the tiger tracks, they will cut all the forest down, make it all one open space, and till the land. Please do not do this thing! "and then he uttered the first two stanzas:

"What time the nearness of a bosom friend
    Threatens your peace to end,
If you are wise, guard your supremacy
    Like the apple of your eye.

"But when your bosom friend does more increase
    The measure of your peace,
Let your friend's life in everything right through
    Be dear as yours to you."
When the Bodhisatta had thus explained the matter, the foolish sprite notwithstanding did not lay it to heart, but one day assumed an awful shape, and drove away the lion and tiger. The people, no longer seeing the footmarks of these, divined that the lion and tiger must have gone to another wood, and cut down one side of this wood. Then the sprite came up to the Bodhisatta [358] and said to him,
"All, friend, I did not do as you said, but drove the creatures away; and now men have found out that they are gone, and they are cutting down the wood! What is to be done?" The reply was, that they were

gone to live in such and such a wood; the sprite must go and fetch them back. This the sprite did; and, standing in front of them, repeated the third stanza, with a respectful salute:

"Come back, O Tigers! to the wood again,
And let it not be levelled with the plain;
For, without you, the axe will lay it low;
You, without it, for ever homeless go."

This request they refused, saying, "Go away! we will not come." The sprite returned to the forest alone. And the men after a very few
(lays cut down all the wood, made fields, and brought them under cultivation.
When the sprite had ended this discourse, he declared the Truths and identified the Birth:--"Kokālika was then the foolish Sprite, Sāriputta the Lion, Moggallāna the Tiger, and the wise Sprite was I myself."

Footnotes

244:1 Kokālika was a follower of Devadatta.
244:2 No. 481.

No. 273.

KACCHAPA-JĀTAKA.

[359] "Quis pateram extendens," etc.--This story the Master told during a. stay in Jetavana, how a quarrel was made up between two magnates of the king's court in Kosala 1. The circumstances have been told in the Second Book.

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Brahmadatta quondam Benari regnante, Bodisatta sacerdotali genere regno Kasensi natus, postquam ad puberem aetatem pervenit, in urbe Takkasila studiis se dedit, et mox, cum lubidines tandem compressisset, solitarius homo in agro Himavanto prope ripam Gangae frondibus ramisque arborum mapale contexit ubi habitaret, Facultates Potentiasque magicas foveret, gaudium perpetuae cogitationis perciperet. Tum quidem hoc modo nato ita mens erat placida placataque ut ad summam patientiam unus pervenerit.

Quem in limine casae sedentem visitabat Simius quidam impudentissimus pessimusque, inque aurem eius semen emittere solebat, neque tamen eius commovere poterat, sed sedebat porro summa animi tranquillitate Bodisatta. Accidit quondam ut ex aqua Testudo egressa somnum ore aperto captaret, in sole apricans. Quam cum vidisset Simius ille impudens, nec mora, pene in os inserto incepit futuere. Continuo Testudo experrecta os velut cistellam conclusit dentibusque comprendit id quod incertum erat. Simius cum nequiret nimium dolorem mulcere 'quo eam,' inquit, 'cui persuadeam ut hoc dolore me liberet?' Fore ut liberaretur ratus si ad Bodisattam pervenisset, Testudine ambabus manibus sublata ad Bodisattam pergit: qui ludos fecit Simium versibus his: [360]

"quis pateram extendens 1 nostram mendicat ad aulam?
  unde venis? precibus quae, precor, esca datast?"

Quibus auditis Simius respondit:

"quod tetigisse nefas, tetigi: sum simius amens:
  eripe me! creptus mox nemora alta petam."

Continuo pergit Bodisatta, Simium allocutus:

"Cassapa testudo genus est: Condannus at ille:
  Cassapa Condannum mitte fututa precor 2."

[361] His verbis valde delectata Testudo Simium omisit: qui Bodisattae dicta salute, se in fugam dedit, neque umquam postea eum locum ne oculis quidem usurpavit. Testudo quoque cum salutem dixisset abiit, at Bodisatta, defixo in contemplatione perpetua animo, tandem in eum locum, cuius dominus Brahma deus, pervenit.

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When this discourse was ended, the Master declared the Truths and identified the Birth: "The two magnates were the Monkey and Tortoise, and I was the hermit."

Footnotes

246:1 Compare Nos. 154, 165.
247:1 The tortoise looked like a begging bowl.
247:2 A curious verse, as bearing on the laws of marriage. Kassapa means 'belonging to the Tortoise clan' (for which sec e.g. Muir, Sanskrit Texts, i. 438). The scholiast's note is: "The Tortoises are of the Kassapa clan, monkeys of the Koṇḍañña" = Skr. Kauṇḍinya, "between which two clans there is intermarriage (āvāhavivāhasambandho); now that it is consummated, let go."

No. 274

LOLA-JĀTAKA 1.

"Who is this tufted crane," etc.--This story the Master told in Jetavana about a greedy Brother. He too was brought to the Audience Hall, when the Master said--"It is not only now that he is greedy; greedy he was before, and his greed lost him his life; and by his means wise men of old were driven out of house and home." Then he told a story.

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Once upon a time, when Brahmadatta was king of Benares, a rich merchant's cook of that town hung up a nest-basket in the kitchen to win merit by it. The Bodhisatta at that time was a Pigeon; and he came and lived in it.
Now a greedy Crow as he flew over the kitchen was attracted by the fish which lay about in great variety. He fell a-hungering after it. "How in the world can I get some?" [362] thought he. Then his eye fell upon the Bodhisatta. "I have it!" thinks he, "I'll make this creature my cat's-paw." And this is how he carried out his resolve.
When the Pigeon went out to seek his day's food, behind him, following, following, came the Crow.
"What do you want with me, Mr Crow?" says the Pigeon. "You and I don't feed alike."
"Ah, but I like you," says the Crow. "Let me be your humble servant, and feed with you."
The Pigeon agreed. But when they went feeding together, the Crow only pretended to eat with him; ever and anon he would turn back, peck to bits some lump of cow-dung, and get a worm or two. When he had had his bellyful, up he flies--"Hullo, Mr Pigeon! what a time you take over your meal! You never know where to draw the line. Come, let's be going back before it is too late." And so they did. When they got back together, the Cook, seeing that their Pigeon had brought a friend, hung up another basket.
In this way things went on for four or five days. Then a great purchase of fish came to the rich man's kitchen. How the Crow longed

for some! There he lay, from early morn, groaning and making a great noise. In the morning, says the Pigeon to the Crow:
"Come along, old fellow,--break fast!"
"You can go," says he, "I have such a fit of indigestion!"
"A Crow with indigestion? Nonsense!" says the Pigeon. "Even a lamp-wick hardly stays any time in your stomach; and anything else you digest in a trice, as soon as you eat it. Now you do what I tell you. [363] Don't behave in this way just for seeing a little fish!"
"Why, Sir, what are you saying? I tell, you I have a bad pain inside!
"All right, all right," says the Pigeon; "only do take care." And away he flew.
The Cook got all the dishes ready, and then stood at the kitchen door, mopping the sweat off him. "Now's my time!" thinks Mr Crow, and alights on a dish with some dainty food in it. Click! The cook heard the noise, and looked round. Ah! in a twinkling he caught the Crow, and plucked off all his feathers, except one tuft on the top of his head; then he powdered ginger and cinnamon, and mixt it up with buttermilk, and rubbed it in well all over the bird's body. "That's for spoiling my master's dinner, and making me throw it away!" said he, and threw him into his basket. Oh, how it hurt!
By and by, in came the Pigeon from his hunt. The first thing he saw was our Crow, making a great to-do. What fun he did make of him, to be sure! He dropt into poetry, as follows:--

"Who is this tufted crane 1 I see
Where she has no right to be?
Come out! my friend the Crow is near,
Who will do you harm, I fear!"

[364] To this the Crow answered with another verse:--

"No tufted crane am I--no, no!
Nothing but a greedy Crow.
I would not do as I was told
So I'm plucked, as you behold."

And the Pigeon rejoined with a third:--

"You'll come to grief again, I know--
It is your nature to do so.
If people make a dish of meat,
’Tis not for little birds to cat."

Then the Pigeon flew away, saying--"I can't live with this creature." And the Crow lay there groaning until he died.

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When the Master had ended this discourse, he declared the Truths and identified the Birth:--at the conclusion of the Truths the greedy Brother reached the Fruit of the Third Path:--"The greedy Brother in those days was the greedy Crow; and I was the Pigeon."

Footnotes

248:1 The same story occurs in vol. i. p. 112 (no. 42). It has been also translated and slightly shortened by the writer, in Jacobs' Indian Fairy Tales, page 222. The two birds and the nest-basket seem to be figured on the Bharhut Stalin (Cunningham, pl. XLV. 7).
249:1 The epithet "whose grandfather is the cloud (lit. swift one)" is added. I hope the reader will pardon its omission; it is unmanageable. The scholiast explains it by the curious superstition:--Cranes are conceived at the sound of thunder. Hence thunder is called their father, and the thundercloud their grandfather.

No. 275.

[365] "Who is this pretty Crane," etc.--This story the Master told at Jetavana about some greedy Brother. The two stories are just the same as the last. And these are the verses:--

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"Who is this pretty Crane, and why
Does he in my Crow's basket lie?
An angry bird, my friend the Crow!
This is his nest, I'd have you know!"

"Do you not know me, friend, indeed?
Together we were used to feed!
I would not do as I was told,
So now I'm plucked, as you behold."

"You'll come to grief again, I know--
It is your nature to do so.
When people make a dish of meat
’Tis not for little birds to eat."

As before, the Bodhisatta said--"I can't live here any more," and flew away some whither.

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When this discourse was ended, the Master declared the Truths and identified the Birth:--at the conclusion of the Truths, the greedy Brother attained the Fruit of the Third Path:--"The greedy Brother was the Crow, and I was the Pigeon."

No. 276.

KURUDHAMMA-JĀTAKA 1.

"Knowing thy faith," etc.--This. story the Master told whilst dwelling in Jetavana, about a Brother that killed a wild goose. [366] Two Brothers, great friends, who came from Sāvatthi, and had embraced the religious life, after taking the higher orders used generally to go about together. One day they came to Aciravatī. After a bath, they stood on the sand, basking in the sunlight and talking pleasantly together. At this moment two wild geese flew over their heads. One of the young fellows picked up a stone. "I'm going to hit that goose bird in the eye!" says he. "You can't," says the other. "That I can," says the first, "and not only that--I can hit either this eye or that eye, as I please." "Not you!" says the other. "Look here, then!" says the first; and picking up a three-cornered stone, threw it after the bird. The bird turned its head on hearing the pebble whizz through the air. Then the other, seizing a round pebble, threw it so that it hit the near eye and came out of the other. The goose with a loud cry turned over and over and fell at their very feet.
The Brothers who were standing about saw what had occurred, and ran up, reproaching him. "What a shame," said they, "that you, who have embraced such a doctrine as ours, should take the life of a living creature!" They made him go before the Tathāgata with them. "Is what they say true?" asked the Master. "Have you really taken the life of a living creature?" "Yes, Sir," replied the Brother. "Brother," said he, "how is it that you have done this thing, after embracing so great salvation? Wise men of old, before the Buddha appeared, though they lived in the world, and the worldly life is impure, felt remorse about mere trifles; but you, who have embraced this great doctrine, have no scruples. A Brother ought to hold himself in control in deed, word, and thought." Then he told a story.

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Once upon a time, when Dhanañjaya was king of Indapatta City, in the Kuru kingdom, the Bodhisatta was born as a son of his Queen Con-sort. By and bye he grew up, and was educated at Takkasilā. His father made him Viceroy, [367] and afterwards on his father's death he became king, and grew in the Kura righteousness, keeping the ten royal duties. The Kuru righteousness means the Five Virtues; these the Bodhisatta observed, and kept pure; as did the Bodhisatta, even so did queen-mother, queen-consort, younger brother, viceroy, family priest, brahmin, driver, courtier, charioteer, treasurer, master of the granaries, noble, porter, courtesan, slave-girl--all did the same.

King, mother, consort, viceroy, chaplain too,
Driver and charioteer and treasurer,
And he that governed the king's granaries,
Porter, and courtesan, eleven in all,
Observed the rules of Kuru righteousness.

Thus all these did observe the Five Virtues, and kept them untarnished. The king built six Almonries,--one at each of the four city gates, one in the midst of the city, and one at his own door; daily he distributed 600,000 pieces of money in alms, by which he stirred up the whole of India. All India was overspread by his love and delight in charity.
At this period there was in the city of Dantapura, in the kingdom of Kāliṅga, a king named King Kāliṅga. In his realms the rain fell not, and because of the drought there was a famine in the land. The people thought that lack of food might produce a pestilence; and there was fear of drought, and fear of famine--these three fears were ever present before them. The people wandered about destitute hither and thither, leading their children by the hand. All the people in the kingdom gathered together, and came to Dantapura; and there at the king's door they made outcry.
As the king stood, by the window, he heard the noise, and asked why the people were making all that noise. [368]
"Oh, Sire," was the reply, "three fears have seized upon all your kingdom: there falls no rain, the crops fail, there is a famine. The people, starving, diseased, and destitute, are wandering about with their little ones by the hand. Make rain for us, O king!"
Said the king, "What used former monarchs to do, if it would not rain?"
"Former monarchs, O king, if it would not rain, used to give alms, to keep the holy day, to make vows of virtue, and to lie down seven days in their chamber on a grass pallet: then the rain would fall."
"Very good," the king said; and even so did he. Still even so there came no rain. The king said to his court,
"As you bade me, so I have done; but there is no rain. What am I to do?"
"O king, in the city of Indapatta, there is a state elephant, named Añjana-vasabho, the Black Bull. It belongs to Dhanañjaya, the Kura king. This let us fetch; then the rain will come."
"But how can we do that? The king and his army are not easy to overcome."
"O king, there is no need to fight him. The king is fond of giving, he loves giving: were he but asked, he would even cut off his head in all its magnificence, or tear out his gracious eyes, or give up his very kingdom. There will be no need even to plead for the elephant. He will give it without fail."
"But who is able to ask him?" said the king.
"The Brahmins, great king!"
The king summoned eight Brahmins from a Brahmin village, and with all honour and respect sent them to ask for the elephant. They took

money for their journey, and donned travelling garb, and without resting past one night in a place, travelled quickly until after a few days they took their meal at the almshall in the city gate. When they had satisfied their bodily wants, they asked, "When does the king come to the Almonry?"
The answer was, [369] "On three days in the fortnight--fourteenth, fifteenth, and eighth; hut to-morrow is the full moon, so he will come to-morrow also."
So early the next morning, the brahmins went, and entered by the eastern gate. The Bodhisatta also, washed and anointed, all adorned and rarely arrayed, mounted upon a fine elephant richly caparisoned, came with a great company to the Almshall at the eastern gate. There he dismounted, and gave food to seven or eight people with his own hand. "In this manner give," said he, and mounting his elephant departed to the south gate. At the eastern gate the brahmins had had no chance, owing to the force of the royal guard; so they proceeded to the south, and watched when the king should come. When the king reached a rising ground not far from the gate, they raised their hands, and hailed the king victorious. The king guided his animal with the sharp goad to the place where they were. "Well, Brahmins, what is your wish?" asked he. Then the brahmins declared the virtues of the Bodhisatta in the first stanza:

"Knowing thy faith and virtue, Lord, we come;
For this beast's sake our wealth we spent at home 1.

[370] To this the Bodhisatta made answer, "Brahmins, if all your wealth has been exhausted in getting this elephant, never mind--I give him to you with all his splendour." Thus comforting them, he repeated these two verses:

"Whether or no ye serve for livery,
Whatever creature shall come here to me,
As my preceptors taught me long ago,
All that come here shall always welcome be.

"This elephant to you for gift I bring:
’Tis a king's portion, worthy of a king!
Take him, with all his trappings, golden chain,
Driver and all, and go your ways again."
[371] Thus spake the great Being, mounted upon his elephant's back; then, dismounting, he said to them--"If there is a spot on him unadorned, I will adorn it and then give him to you." Thrice he went about the creature, turning towards the right, and examined him; but he found no spot on him without adornment. Then he put the trunk into the brahmins'

hands; he besprinkled him with scented water from a fine golden vase, and made him over to them. The brahmins accepted the elephant with his belongings, and seating themselves upon his back rode to Dantapura, and handed him over to their king. But although the elephant was come, no rain fell yet.
Then the king asked again--"What can be the reason?"
They said, "Dhanañjaya, the Kuru King, observes the Kuru righteousness; therefore in his realms it rains every ten or fifteen days. That is the power of the king's goodness. If in this animal there is any good, how little it must be!" Then said the king, "Take this elephant, caparisoned as he is, with all his belongings, and give it hack to the king. Write upon a golden plate the Kuru righteousness which he observes, and bring it hither." With these words he despatched the brahmins and courtiers.
These came before the king, and restored his elephant, saying, "My lord, even when your elephant came, [372] no rain fell in our country. They say that you observe the Kuru righteousness. Our king is wishful himself to observe it; and he has sent us, bidding us write it upon a golden plate, and bring it to him. Tell us this righteousness!"
"Friends," says the king, "indeed I did once observe this righteousness; but now I am in doubt about this very point. This righteousness does not bless my heart now: therefore I cannot give it you."
Why, you may ask, did not virtue bless the king any longer? Well, every third year, in the month of Kattika 1 the kings used to hold a festival, called the Kattika Feast. While keeping this feast, the kings used to deck themselves out in great magnificence, and dress up like gods; they stood in the presence of a goblin named Cittarāja, the King of Many Colours, and they would shoot to the four points of the compass arrows wreathed in flowers, and painted in divers colours. This king then, in keeping the feast, stood on the bank of a lake, in the presence of Cittarāja, and shot arrows to the four quarters. They could see whither three of the arrows went; but the fourth, which was shot over the water, this they saw not. Thought the king, "Perchance the arrow which I have shot has fallen upon some fish!" As this doubt arose, the sin of life-taking made a flaw in his virtue; that is why his virtue did not bless him as before. This the king told them; and added, "Friends, I am in doubt about myself, whether or no I do observe the Kuru righteousness; but my mother keeps it well. You can get it from her."
"But, O king," said they, "you had no intent to take life. Without the intent of the heart there is no taking of life. Give us the Kuru righteousness which you have kept!"

"Write, then," said he. And he caused them to write upon the plate of gold: "Slay not the living; take not what is not given; [373] walk not evilly in lust; speak no lies; drink no strong drink." Then he added,
"Still, it does not bless me; you had better learn it from my mother."
The messengers saluted the king, and visited the Queen-mother. "Lady," said they, "they say you keep the Kuru righteousness: pass it on to us!"
Said the Queen-mother, "My sons, indeed I did once keep this righteousness, but now I have my doubts. This righteousness does not make me happy, so I cannot give it to you." Now we are told that she had two sons, the elder being king, and the younger viceroy. A certain king sent to the Bodhisatta perfumes of fine sandal wood worth an hundred thousand pieces, and a golden neckband worth an hundred thousand. And he, thinking to do his mother honour, sent the whole to her. Thought she: "I do not perfume myself with sandal-wood, I do not wear necklets. I will give them to my sons' wives." Then the thought occurred to her--"My elder son's wife is my lady; she is the chief queen: to her will I give the gold necklet; but the wife of the younger is a poor creature,--to her I will give the sandal perfume." And so to the one she gave the necklet, and the perfume gave she to the other. Afterward she bethought her, "I keep the Kuru righteousness; whether they be poor or whether they be not poor is no matter. It is not seemly that I should pay court to the elder. Perchance by not doing this I have made a flaw in my virtue!" And she began to doubt; that is why she spoke as she slid.
The messengers said, "When it is in your hands, a thing is given even as you will. If you have scruples about a thing so small as that, what other sin would you ever do? Virtue is not broken by a thing of that kind. [374] Give us the Kuru righteousness!" And from her also they received it, and wrote it upon the golden plate.
"All the same, my sons," said the Queen-mother, "I am not happy in this righteousness. But my daughter-in-law observes it well. Ask her for it."
So they took their leave respectfully, and asked the daughter in the same way as before. And, as before, she replied, "I cannot, for I keep it myself no longer!"--Now one day as she sat at the lattice, looking down she saw the king making a solemn procession about the city; and behind him on the elephant's back sat the viceroy. She fell in love with him, and thought, "What if I were to strike up a friendship with him, and his brother were to die, and then he were to become king, and take me to wife!" Then it flashed across her mind--"I who keep the Kuru righteousness, who am married to a husband, I have looked with love

upon another man! Here is a flaw in my virtue!" Remorse seized upon her. This she told the messengers.
Then they said, "Sin is not the mere uprising of a thought. If you feel remorse for so small a thing as this, what transgression could you ever commit? Not by such a small matter is virtue broken; give us this righteousness!" And she likewise told it to them, and they wrote it upon a golden plate. But she said, "However, my sons, my virtue is not perfect. But the viceroy observes these rules well; go ye and receive them from him."
Then again they repaired to the viceroy, and as before asked him for the Kuru righteousness.--Now the viceroy used to go and pay his devoirs to the king at evening; and when they came to the palace courtyard, in his car, if he wished to eat with the king, and spend the night there, he would throw his reins and goad upon the yoke; and that was a sign for the people to depart; and next morning early they would come again, and stand awaiting the viceroy's departure. And the charioteer [375] would attend the car, and come again with it early in the morning, and wait by the king's door. But if the viceroy would depart ht the same time, he left the reins and goad there in the chariot, and went in to wait upon the king. Then the people, taking it for a sign that he would presently depart, stood waiting there at the palace door. One day he did thus, and went in to wait upon the king. But as he was within, it began to rain; and the king, remarking this, would not let him go away, so he took his meal, and slept there. But a great crowd of people stood expecting him to come out, and there they stayed all night in the wet. Next day the viceroy came out, and seeing the crowd standing there drenched, thought he--"I, who keep the Kuru righteousness, have put all this crowd to discomfort! Surely here is a flaw in my virtue!" and he was seized with remorse. So he said to the messengers: "Now doubt has come upon me if indeed I do keep this righteousness; therefore r cannot give it to you;" and he told them the matter.
"But," said they, "you never had the wish to plague those people. What is not intended is not counted to one's score. If you feel remorse for so small a thing, in what would you ever transgress?" So they received from him too the knowledge of this righteousness, and wrote it on their golden plate. "However," said he, "this righteousness is not perfected in me. But my chaplain keeps it well; go, ask him for it." Then again they went on to the chaplain.
Now the chaplain one day had been going to wait upon the king. On the road he saw a chariot; sent to the king by another king, coloured like the young sun. "Whose chariot?" he asked. "Sent for the king," they said. Then he thought, "I am an old man; if the king were to give me that chariot, how time it would he to ride about in it!" When he

came before the king, and stood by after greeting him with the prayer for prosperity, [376] they showed the chariot to the king. "That is a most beautiful car," said the king; "give it to my teacher." But the chaplain did not like taking it; no, not though he was begged again and again. Why was this? Because the thought came into his mind--"I, who practise the Kuru righteousness, have coveted another's goods. Surely this is a flaw in my virtue!" So he told the story to these messengers, adding, "My sons, I am in doubt about the Kuru righteousness; this righteousness does not bless me now; therefore I cannot teach it to you."
But the messengers said, "Not by mere uprising of covetise is virtue broken. If you feel a scruple in so small a matter, what real transgression would you ever do?" And from him also they received the righteousness, and wrote it on their golden plate. "Still, this goodness does not bless me now," said he; "but the royal driver 1 carefully practises it. Go and ask him." So they found the royal driver, and asked him.
Now the driver one day was measuring a field. Tying a cord to a stick, he gave one end to the owner of the field to hold, and took the other himself. The stick tied to the end of the cord which he held came to a crab's lurk-hole. Thought he, "If I put the stick in the hole, the crab in the hole will be hurt: if I put it on the other side, the king's property will lose; and if I put it on this side, the farmer will lose. What's to be done?" Then he thought again--"The crab ought to be in his hole; but if he were, he would show himself;" so he put the stick in the hole. The crab made a click! inside. Then he thought, "The stick must have struck upon the crab, and it must have killed him! I observe the Kuru righteousness, and now here's a flaw in it!" [377] So he told them this, and added, "So now I have my doubts about it, and I cannot give it to you."
Said the messengers, "You had no wish to kill the crab. What is done without intent is not counted to the score; if you feel a scruple about so small a matter, what real transgression would you ever do?" And they took the righteousness from his lips likewise, and wrote it on their golden plate. "However," said he, "though this does not bless me, the charioteer practises it carefully; go and ask him."
So they took their leave, and sought out the charioteer. Now the charioteer one day drove the king into his park in the car. There the king took his pleasure during the day, and at evening returned, and entered the chariot. But before he could get back to the city, at the time of sunset a storm cloud arose. The charioteer, fearing the king might get wet, touched up the team with the goad: the steeds sped swiftly home.
  Ever since, going to the park or coming from it, from that spot they went at speed. Why was this? Because they thought there must be some danger at this spot, and that was why the charioteer had touched them with the goad. And the charioteer thought, "If the king is wet or dry, ’tis no fault of mine; but I have given a touch of the goad out of season to these well-trained steeds, and so they run at speed again and again till they are tired, all by my doing. And I observe the Kuru righteousness! Surely there's a flaw in it now!" This he told the messengers, and said, "For this cause I am in doubt about it, and I cannot give it to you." "But," said they, "you did not mean to tire the horses, and what is done without meaning is not set down to the score. If you feel a scruple about so small a matter, what real transgression could you ever commit?" And they learnt the righteousness from him also, [378] and wrote it down upon their golden plate. But the charioteer sent them in search of a certain wealthy man, saying, "Even though this righteousness does not bless me, he keeps it carefully."
So to this rich man they came, and asked him. Now he one day had gone to his paddy field, and seeing a head of rice bursting the husk, went about to tie it up with a wisp of rice; and taking a handful of it, he tied the head to a post. Then it occurred to him--"From this field I have yet to give the king his due, and I have taken a handful of rice from an untithed field! I, who observe the rules of Kuru righteousness! Surely I must have broken them!" And this matter he told to the messengers, saying, "Now I am in doubt about this righteousness, and so I cannot give it to you."
"But," said they, "you had no thought of thieving; without this one cannot be proclaimed 1 guilty of theft. If you feel scruples in such a small matter, when will you ever take what belongs to another man?" And from him too they received the righteousness, and wrote it down on their golden plate. He added, "Still, though I am not happy in this matter, the Master of the Royal Granaries keeps these rules well. Go, ask him for them." So they betook them to the Master of the Granaries.
Now this man, as he sat one day at the door of the granary, causing the rice of the king's tax to be measured, took a grain from the heap which was not yet measured, and put it down for a marker. At that moment rain began to fall. The official counted up the markers, so many, and then swept them all together and dropt them upon the heap which had been measured. Then he ran in quickly and sat in the gate-house. "Did I throw the markers on the measured heap or the unmeasured?" he wondered; and the thought came into his mind--[379] "If I threw them on what was already measured, the king's property has been increased,

and the owners have lost; I keep the Kuru righteousness; and now here's a flaw!" So he told this to the messengers, adding that therefore he had his doubts about it, and could not give it to them. But the messengers said, "You had no thought of theft, and without this no one can be declared guilty of dishonesty. If you feel scruples in a small matter like this, when would you ever steal any thing belonging to another?" And from him too they received the righteousness, and wrote it on their golden plate. "But," added he, "although this virtue is not perfect in me, there is the gatekeeper, who observes it well: go and get it from him." So they went off and asked the gatekeeper.
Now it so happened that one day, at the time for closing the city gate, he cried aloud three times. And a certain poor man, who had gone into the woodland a-gathering sticks and leaves with his youngest sister, hearing the sound came running up with her. Says the door keeper--"What! don't you know that the king is in the city'? Don't you know that the gate of this town is shut betimes? Is that why you go out into the woods, making love?" Said the other, "No, master, it is not my wife, but my sister." Then the porter thought, "How unseemly to address a sister as a wife! And I keep the rules of the Kurus; surely I must have broken them now!" This he told the messengers, adding, "In this way I have my doubts whether I really keep the Kuru righteousness, and so I cannot give it to you." But they said, "You said it because you thought so; [380] this does not break your virtue. If you feel remorse on so slight a cause, how could you ever tell a lie with intent?" And so they took down those virtues from him too, and wrote them on their golden plate.
Then he said, "But though this virtue does not bless me, there is a courtesan who keeps it well; go and ask her." And so they did. She refused as the others had done, for the following reason. Sakka, king of the gods, designed to try her goodness; so putting on the shape of a youth, he gave her a thousand pieces, saying, "I will come by and bye." Then he returned to heaven, and did not visit her for three years. And she, for honour's sake, for three years took not so much as a piece of betel from another man. By degrees she got poor; and then she thought--"The man who gave me a thousand pieces has not come these three years; and now I have grown poor. I cannot keep body and soul together. Now I must go tell the Chief Justices, and get my wage as before." So to the court she came, and said, "There was a man three years ago gave me a thousand pieces, and never came back; whether he be dead I know not. I cannot keep body and soul together; what am I to do, my lord'?" Said he, "If he does not come for three years, what can you do? Earn your wage as before." As soon as she left the court, after this award, there came a man who offered her a thousand. As she held out her hands to take it, Sakka showed himself. Said she, "Here is the man who gave me

a thousand pieces three years ago: I must not take your money;" and she drew back her hand. Then Sakka caused his own proper shape to be seen, and hovered in the air, shining like the sun fresh risen, and gathered all the city together. Sakka, in the midst of the crowd, [381] said, "To test her goodness I gave her a thousand pieces three years ago. Be like her, and like her keep your honour;" and with this monition, he filled her dwelling with jewels of seven kinds, and saying, "Henceforth be vigilant," he comforted her, and went away to heaven. So for this cause she refused, saying, "Because before I had earned one wage I held out my hand for another, therefore my virtue is not perfect, and so I cannot give it to you." To this the messengers replied, "Merely to hold out the hand is not a breach of virtue: that virtue of yours is the highest perfection!" And from her, as from the rest, they received the rules of virtue, and wrote them on their golden plate. They took it with them to Dantapura, and told the king how they had fared.
Then their king practised the Kuru precepts, and fulfilled the Five Virtues. And then in all the realm of Kāliṅga the rain fell; the three fears were allayed; the land became prosperous and fertile. The Bodhisatta all his life long gave alms and did good, and then with his subjects went to fill the heavens.

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When the Teacher had ended this discourse, he declared the Truths, and explained the Birth-tale. At the conclusion of the Truths, some entered the First Path, some the Second, some entered the Third, and some became saints. And the Birth-tale is thus explained:--

"Uppalavaṇṇā was the courtesan,
Puṇṇa the porter, and the driver was
Kuccāna; Kolita, the measurer;
The rich man, Sāriputta; he who drove
The chariot, Anuruddha; and the priest
Was Kassapa the Elder; he that was
The Viceroy, now is Nandapaṇḍita;
Rāhula's mother has the queen-consort,
The Queen-mother was Māyā; and the King
Was Bodhisatta.--Thus the Birth is clear."

Footnotes

251:1 Cf. Cariyā-Piṭaka, I. 3; Dhammapada, p. 416.--In this story the king appears as a rain-maker, and on certain occasions dresses like the gods.
253:1 i.e. we spent all we had on food, trusting that you would give us the elephant when we asked for it.
254:1 October-November.
257:1 Some difference there must be between rajjugāhahaamacco and sāratthi (the same words occur in Dhp. p. 416). I would suggest that the former is the more important, and may answer to the Greek παραιβάτης, Skr. savyéṣṭher.
258:1 I.e. in the saṁgha (ñatti is a 'resolution').

No. 277.

ROMAKA-JĀTAKA.

[382] "Here in the hills," etc.--This story was told by the Master when at the Bamboo-grove, about attempted murder. The circumstances explain themselves.

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Once on a time, when Brahmadatta was king of Benares, the Bodhisatta became a Pigeon, and with a large flock of pigeons he lived amidst the woodland in a cave of the hills. There was an ascetic, a virtuous man, who had built him a hut near a frontier village not far from the place where the pigeons were, and there in a cave of the hills he lived. Him the Bodhisatta visited from time to time, and heard from him things worth hearing.

After living there a long time, the ascetic went away; and there came a sham ascetic, and lived there. The Bodhisatta, attended by his flock of pigeons, visited him and greeted him respectfully; they spent the day in hopping about the hermit's abode, and picking up food before the cave, and returned home in the evening. There the sham ascetic lived for more than fifty years.

One day the villagers gave him some pigeon's flesh which they had cooked. He was taken with the flavour, and asked what it was. "Pigeon," said they. Thought he, "There come flocks of pigeons to my hermitage; I must kill some of them to eat."

So he got rice and ghee, milk and cummin and pepper, and put it by all ready; in a corner of his robe he hid a staff, and sat down at the hut door watching for the pigeons' coming.

The Bodhisatta came, with his flock, and spied out what wicked thing this sham ascetic would be at. "Yon wicked ascetic sitting there goes under false pretences! Perhaps he has been feeding on some of our kind; I'll find him out!"

So he alighted to leeward, and scented him. [383] "Yes," said he, "the man wants to kill us and eat us; we must not go near him;" and away he flew with his flock. On seeing that he kept aloof, the hermit thought, "I will speak words of honey to him, and make friends, and then kill and eat him!" and he uttered the two first stanzas:

"Here in the hills, for one and fifty years,
  O feathered fowl! the birds would visit me,
Nothing suspecting, knowing nought of fears,
         In sweet security!

"These very children of the eggs now seem
  To fly suspicious to another hill.
Have they forgotten all their old esteem?
         Are they the same birds still?"

[384] Then the Bodhisatta stept back and repeated the third:

"We are no fools, and we know you;
We are the same, and you are too:
You have designs against our weal,
So, heretic, this fear we feel."

"They have found me out!" thought the false ascetic. He threw his

staff at the bird, but missed him. "Get away!" said he--"I've missed you!"

"You have missed us," said the Bodhisatta, "but you shall not miss the four hells! If you stay here, I'll call the villagers and make them catch you for a thief. Run off, quick!" Thus he threatened the man, and flew away. The hermit could live there no longer.

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The Teacher having ended this discourse, identified the. Birth: "At that time Devadatta was the ascetic; the first ascetic, the good one, was Sāriputta; and the chief of the Pigeons was I myself."

No. 278. 1

MAHISA-JĀTAKA.

[385] "Why do yore patiently," etc. This story the Master told at Jetavana, about a certain impertinent monkey. At Sāvatthi, we are told, was a tame monkey in a certain family; and it ran into the elephant's stable, and perching on the back of a virtuous elephant, voided excrement, and began to walk up and down. The elephant, being both virtuous and patient, did nothing. But one day in this elephant's place stood a wicked young one. The monkey thought it was the same, and climbed upon its back. The elephant seized him in his trunk, and dashing him to the ground, trod him to pieces. This became known in the meeting of the Brotherhood; and one day they. all began to talk about it. "Brother, have you heard how the impertinent monkey mistook a had elephant for a good one, and climbed on his back, and how he lost his life for it?" In came the Master, and asked, "Brethren, what are you talking of as you sit here?" and when they told him, "This is not the first time," said he, "that this impertinent monkey behaved so; he did the same before:" and he told them an old-world tale.

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Once on a time, when Brahmadatta was king of Behaves, the Bodhisatta was born in the Himalaya region as a Buffalo. He grew up strong and
big, and ranged the hills and mountains, peaks and caves, tortuous woods a many.
Once, as he went, he saw a pleasant tree, and took his food, standing under it.

Then an impertinent monkey came down out of the tree, and getting on his back, voided excrement; then he took hold of one of the Buffalo's horns, and swung down from it by his tail, disporting himself. The Bodhisatta, being full of patience, kindliness, and mercy, took no notice at all of his misconduct. This the monkey did again and again.
But one day, the spirit that belonged to that tree, standing upon the tree-trunk, asked him, saying, [386] "My lord Buffalo, why do you put up with the rudeness of this bad Monkey? Put a stop to him!" and enlarging upon this theme he repeated the first two verses as follows:

"Why do you patiently endure each freak
This mischievous and selfish ape may wreak?

"Crush underfoot, transfix him with your horn!
Stop him or even children will show scorn."
The Bodhisatta, on hearing this, replied, "If, Tree-sprite, I cannot endure this monkey's ill-treatment without abusing his birth, lineage, and powers, how can my wish ever come to fulfilment? But the monkey will do the same to any other, thinking him to be like me. And if he does it to any fierce Buffalos, they will destroy him indeed. When some other has killed him, I shall be delivered both from pain and from blood-guiltiness." And saying this he repeated the third verse:

"If he treats others as he now treats me,
They will destroy him; then I shall be free."

A few days after, the Bodhisatta went elsewhither, and another Buffalo, a savage beast, went and stood in his place. The wicked Monkey, [387] thinking it to be the old one, climbed upon his back and did as before. The Buffalo shook him off upon the ground, and drove his horn into the Monkey's heart, and trampled him to mincemeat under his hoofs..

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When the Master had ended this teaching, he declared the Truths, and identified the Birth: "At that time the bad buffalo was he who now is the bad elephant, the bad monkey was the same, but the virtuous noble Buffalo was I myself."

Footnotes

262:1 Jātaka Mālā, no. 33 (Mahisa); Cariyā-Piṭaka, II. 5.

No. 279.

SATAPATTA-JĀTAKA.

"As the youth upon his way," etc. This story the Master told in Jetavana, about Paṇḍuka and Lohita. Of the Six Heretics, two--Mettiya and Bhummaja--lived hard by Rājagaha; two, Assaji and Punabbasu, near Kīṭāgiri, and at Jetavana near Sāvatthi the two others, Paṇḍuka and Lohita. They questioned matters laid down in the doctrine; whoever were their friends and intimates, they would encourage, saying, "You are no worse than these, brother, in birth, lineage, or character; if you give up your opinions, they will have much the better of you," and by saying this kind of thing they prevented their giving up their opinions, and thus strifes and quarrels and contentions arose. The Brethren told this to the Blessed One. The Blessed One assembled the Brethren for that cause, to make explanation; and causing Paṇḍuka and Lohita to be summoned, addressed them: "Is it true, Brethren, that you really yourselves question certain matters, and prevent people from giving up their opinions?" "Yes," they replied. "Then," said he, "your behaviour is like that of the Man and the Crane;" and he told them an old-world tale.

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Once on a time, when Brahmadatta was reigning in Benares, the Bodhisatta was born to a certain family in a Kāsi village. When he grew up, instead of earning a livelihood by farming or trade, [388] he gathered five hundred robbers, and became their chief, and lived by highway robbery and housebreaking.
Now it so happened that a landowner had given a thousand pieces of money to some one, and died before receiving it back again. Some time after, his wife lay on her deathbed, and addressing her son, said,
"Son, your father gave a thousand pieces of money to a man, and died without getting it back; if I die too, he will not give it to you. Go, while I yet live, get him to fetch it and give it back."
So the son went, and got the money.
The mother died; but she loved her son so much, that she suddenly reappeared 1 as a jackal on the road by which he was coming. At that time, the robber chief with his band lay by the road in wait to plunder travellers. And when her son had got to the entrance of the wood, the Jackal returned again and again, and sought to stay him; saying, "My son, don't enter the wood! there are robbers there, who will slay thee and take thy money!

But the man understood not what she meant. "Ill luck!" said he, "here's a jackal trying to stop my way!" he said; and he drove her off with sticks and clods, and into the wood he went.
And a crane flew towards the robbers, crying out--"Here's a man with a thousand pieces in his hand! Kill him, and take them!" The young fellow did not know what it was doing, so he thought, "Good luck! here's a lucky bird! now there is a good omen for me!" He saluted respectfully, crying, "Give voice, give voice, my lord!"
The Bodhisatta, who knew the meaning of all sounds, observed what these two did, and thought: "Yon jackal must be the man's mother; so she tries to stop him, and tell him that he will be killed and robbed; but the crane must be some adversary, and that is why it says 'Kill him, and take the money;' and the man does not know what is happening, [389] and drives off his mother, who wishes his welfare, while the crane, who wishes him ill, he worships, under the belief that it is a well-wisher. The man is a fool."
(Now the Bodhisattas, even though they are great beings, sometimes take the goods of others by being born as wicked men; this they say comes from a fault in the horoscope.)
So the young man went on, and by and bye fell in with the robbers. The Bodhisatta caught him, and "Where do you live?" said he.
"In Benares."
"Where have you been?"
"There was a thousand pieces due to me in a certain village; and that is where I have been."
"Did you get it?"
"Yes, I did."
"Who sent you?"
"Master, my father is dead, and my mother is ill; it was she sent me, because she thought I should not get it if she were dead."
"And do you know what has happened to your mother now?"
"No, master."
"She died after you left; and so much did she love you, that she at once became a jackal, and kept trying to stop you for fear you should get killed. She it was that you scared away. But the crane was an enemy, who came and told us to kill you, and take your money. You are such a fool that you thought your mother was an illwisher, when she wished you well, and thought the crane was a wellwisher when it wished ill to you. He did you no good, but your mother was very good to you. Keep your money, and be off!" And he let him go.

When the Master had finished this discourse, he repeated the following stanzas:

"As the youth upon his way
  Thought the jackal of the wood
Was a foe, his path to stay,
  While she tried to do him good:
That false crane his true friend deeming
  Which to ruin him was scheming:

"Such another, who is here,
  Has his friends misunderstood;
They can never win his ear
  Who advise him for his good.
[390] "He believes when others praise--
  Awful terrors prophesying:
As the youth of olden days
  Loved the crane above him flying 1."
When the Master had enlarged upon this theme, he identified the Birth: "At that time the robber chief was I myself."

Footnotes

264:1 The word implies a creature not born in the natural way, but taking shape without the need of parents.
266:1 The scholiast adds the following lines:

The friend who robs another without ceasing;
  He that protests, protests incessantly;
The friend who flatters for the sake of pleasing;
  The boon companion in debauchery;--
These four the wise as enemies should fear,
  And keep aloof, if there be danger near.

No. 280.

PUṬA-DŪSAKA-JĀTAKA.

"No doubt the king," etc.--This story the Master told in Jetavana, about one who destroyed pottles. At Sāvatthi, we learn, a certain courtier invited the Buddha and his company, and made them sit in his park. [391] As he was distributing to them, during the meal, he said, "Let those who wish to walk about the park, do so." The Brothers walked about the park. At that time the gardener climbed up a tree which had leaves upon it, and said, taking hold of some of the large leaves, "This will do for flowers, this one for fruit," and making them into potties he dropt them to the foot of the tree. His little son destroyed each as soon as it fell. The Brothers told this to the Master. "Brothers," said the Master, "this is not the first time that this lad has destroyed pottles: he did it before." And he told them an old-world tale.

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Once upon a time, when Brahmadatta was king of Benares, the Bodhisatta was born in a certain family of Benares. When he grew up, and was living in the world as a householder, it happened that for some reason he went into a park, where a number of monkeys lived. The gardener was throwing down his pottles as we have described, and the chief of the monkeys was destroying them as they fell. The Bodhisatta, addressing him, said, "As the gardener drops his pottles, the monkey thinks he is trying to please him by tearing them up 1," and repeated the first stanza:

No doubt the king of beasts is clever
In pottle-making; he would never
Destroy what's made with so much pother,
Unless he meant to make another."

On hearing this the Monkey repeated the second stanza:

"Neither my father nor my mother
Nor I myself could make another.
What others make, we tear to pieces:
The proper way of monkeys, this is!"

[392] And the Bodhisatta responded with the third:

If this is proper monkey nature,
What's the improper way of such a creature!
Be off--it does not matter whether
You're proper or improper--both together!"

and with these words of blame he departed.

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When the Master had ended this discourse, he identified the Birth: "At that time the monkey was the boy who has been destroying the potties; but the wise man was I myself."

Footnotes

267:1 Should we read, "... Kātukāmo ti maññe" ti?

No. 281.

ABBHANTARA-JĀTAKA.

"There grows a tree," etc.--This story the Master told in Jetavana, about the Elder Sāriputta giving mango juice to the Sister Bimbādevī. When the Supreme Buddha inaugurated the universal reign of religion, whilst living in a room at Vesāli, the chief wife of the Gotama with five hundred of the Sākiya clan asked for initiation, and received initiation and full orders. Afterwards the five

hundred Sisters became saints on hearing the preaching of Nandaka. But when the Master was living near Sāvatthi, the mother of Rāhula thought to herself, "My husband on embracing the religious life has become omniscient; my son too has become a religious, and lives with hire. What am I to do in the midst of the house? I will enter on this life, and go to Sāvatthi, and I will live looking upon the Supreme Buddha and my son continually." So she betook herself to a nunnery, and entered the order, and went and lived in a cell at Sāvatthi, in company of her teachers and preceptors, beholding the Master and her beloved son. The novice Rāhula came and saw his mother.
One day, the Sister was afflicted with flatulence; [393] and when her son came to see her, she could not get to see him, but some others came and told him she was ill. Then he went in, and asked his mother, "What ought you to take?" "Son," said she, "at home this pain used to be cured by mango juice flavoured with sugar; but now we live by begging, and where can we get it?" Said the novice, "I'll get it for you," and departed. Now the preceptor of his reverence Rāhula was the Captain of the Faith, his teacher was the great Moggallāna, his uncle was the Elder Ānanda, and his father was the Supreme Buddha: thus he had great luck. However, he went to no other save only to his preceptor; and after greeting him, stood before him with a sad look. "Why do you seem sad, Rāhula?" asked the Elder. "Sir," he replied, "my mother is ill with flatulence." "What must she take?" "Mango juice and sugar does her good." "All right, I'll get some; don't trouble about it." So next day he took the lad to Sāvatthi, and seating him in a waiting-room, went up to the palace. The king of Kosala bade the Elder be seated. At that very moment the gardener brought a basket of sweet mangoes ripe for food. The king removed the skin, sprinkled sugar, crushed them up himself, and filled the Elder's bowl for him. The Elder returned to the place of waiting and gave them to the novice, bidding him give them to his mother; and so he did. No sooner had the Sister eaten, than her pain was cured. The king also sent messengers, saying, "The Elder did not sit here to eat the mango juice. Go and find out whether he gave it to any one." The messenger went along with the elder, and found out, and then returned to tell the king. Thought the king: "If the Master should return to a worldly life, he would be an universal monarch; the novice Rāhula would be his treasure the Crown Prince 1, the holy Sister would be his treasure the Empress, and all the universe would belong to them. I must go and attend upon them. Now they are living close by there is no time to be lost." So from that day he continually gave mango syrup to the Sister.
It became known among the Brothers how the Elder gave mango syrup to the holy Sister. [394] And one day they fell a-talking in the Hall of Truth: "Friend, I hear that the Elder Sāriputta comforted Sister Bimbādevī with mango syrup." The Master came in and asked, "What are you talking about now?" When they told him--"This is not the first time, Brothers, that Rāhula's mother was comforted with mango syrup by the Elder; the same happened before;" and he told them an old-world tale.

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Once upon a time, when Brahmadatta was reigning in Benares, the Bodhisatta was born in a brahmin family living in a village of Kāsi. When he grew up, he was educated at Takkasilā, settled down into family life, and on the death of his parents embraced the religious life. After that he remained in the region of Himalaya, cultivating the Faculties and the Attainments. A body of sages gathered round him, and he became their teacher.

At the end of a long time he came down from the hills to get salt and seasoning, and in the course of his wanderings arrived at Benares, where he took up his abode in a park. And at the glory of the virtue of this company of holy men the palace of Sakka shook. Sakka reflected, and perceived what it was. Thought he, "I will do an injury to their dwelling; then their stay will he disturbed; they will be too much distressed to have tranquillity of mind. Then I shall be comfortable again." As he bethought him how to do it, he hit upon a plan. "I will enter the chamber of the chief queen, just at the middle watch of the night, and hovering in the air, I will say--'Lady, if you eat a midmost mango 1, you will conceive a son 2, who shall become a universal monarch.' She will tell the king, and he will send to the orchard for a mango fruit: I will cause all the fruit to disappear. They will tell the king that there is none, and when he asks who eats it, they will say 'The ascetics'." So just in the middle watch, he appeared in the queen's chamber, and hovering in the air, revealed his godhead, and conversing with her, repeated the first two stanzas:--[395]

"There grows a tree, with fruit divine thereon;
Men clepe it Middlemost: and if one be
With child, and eat of it, she shall anon
Bear one to hold the whole wide earth in fee.

"Lady, you are a mighty Queen indeed;
The King, your husband, holds you lief and dear.
Bid him procure the mango for your need,
And he the Midmost fruit will bring you here."
These stanzas did Sakka recite to the queen; and then bidding her be careful, and make no delay, but tell the matter to the king herself, he encouraged her, and went back to his own place.
Next day, the queen lay down, as though ill, giving instructions to her maidens. The king sat upon his throne, under the white umbrella, and looked on at the dancing. Not seeing his queen, he asked a handmaid where she was.
"The queen is sick," replied the girl.
So the king went to see her; and sitting by her side, stroked her back, and asked, "What is the matter, lady?"
"Nothing," said she, "but that I have a craving for something."
"What is it you want, lady?" he asked again.
"A middle mango, my lord."
"Where is there such a thing as a middle mango?"

"I don't know what a middle mango is; but I know that I shall die if I don't get one."
"All right, we will get you one; don't trouble about it."
So the king consoled her, and went away. He took his seat upon the royal divan, and sent for his courtiers. [396] "My queen has a great craving for a middle mango. What is to be done?" said he.
Some one told him, "A middle mango is one which grows between two others. Send to your park, and find a mango growing between two others; pluck its fruit and let us give it to the queen." So the king sent men to do after this manner.
But Sakka by his power made all the fruit disappear, as though it had been eaten. The men who came for the mangoes searched the whole park through, and not a mango could they find; so back they went to the king, and told him that mangoes there were none.
"Who is it eats the mangoes?" asked the king.
"The ascetics, my lord."
"Give the ascetics a drubbing, and bundle them out of the park!" he commanded. The people heard and obeyed: Sakka's wish was fulfilled. The queen lay on and on, longing for the mango.
The king could not think what to do. He gathered his courtiers and his brahmins, and asked them, "Do you know what a middle mango is?"
Said the brahmins: "My lord, a middle mango is the portion of the gods. It grows in Himalaya, in the Golden Cave. So we have heard by immemorial tradition."
"Well, who can go and get it?"
"A human being cannot go; we must send a young parrot."
At that time there was a fine young parrot in the king's family, as big as the nave of the wheel in the princes' carriage, strong, clever, and full of sharp devices. This parrot the king sent for, and thus addressed him,
"Dear parrot, I have done a great deal for you: you live in a golden cage; you have sweet grain to eat on a golden dish; you have sugared water to drink. There's something I want you to do for me,"
"Speak on, my lord," said the parrot.
"Son, my queen has a craving for a middle mango; this mango grows in Himalaya, in the Golden Mountain; it is the gods' portion, [397] no human being can go thither. You must bring the fruit back from thence."
"Very good, my king, I will," said the parrot. Then the king gave him sweetened grain to eat, on a golden plate, and sugar-water to drink; and anointed him beneath the wings with oil an hundred times refined; then he took him in both hands, and standing at a window, let him fly away.

The parrot, on the king's errand, flew along in the air, beyond the ways of men, till he came to some parrots which dwelt in the first hill-region of Himalaya. "Where is the middle mango?" he asked them; "tell me the place."
"We know not," said they, "but the parrots in the second range of hills will know."
The parrot listened, and flew away to the second range. After that he went on to the third, fourth, fifth, and sixth. There too the parrots said, "We do not know, but those in the seventh range will know." So he went on there, and asked where the middle mango tree grew.
"In such and such a place, on the Golden Hill," they said.
"I have come for the fruit of it," said he, "guide me thither, and procure the fruit for me."
"That is the portion of the king Vessavaṇa. It is impossible to get near it. The whole tree from the roots upwards is encircled with seven iron nets; it is guarded by thousands of millions of Kumbhaṇḍa goblins; if they see any one, he's done for. The place is like the fire of the dissolution and the fire of hell. Do not ask such a thing!"
"If you will not go with me, then describe the place to me," said he.
So they told him to go by such and such a way. He listened carefully to their instructions. He did not show himself by day; but at dead of night, when the goblins were asleep, he approached the tree, and began softly to climb on one of its roots, when clink! went the iron net [398]--the goblins awoke--saw the parrot, and seized him, crying, "Thief!" Then they discussed what was to be done with him.
Says one, "I'll throw him into my mouth, and swallow him!"
Says another, "I'll crush him and knead him in my hands and scatter him in bits!"
Says a third, "I'll split him in two, and cook him on the coals and eat him!"
The parrot heard them deliberating. Without any fear he addressed them, "I say, Goblins, whose men are you?"
"We belong to king Vessavaṇa."
"Well, you have one king for your master, and I have another for mine. The king of Benares sent me here to fetch a fruit of the middle mango tree. Then and there I gave my life to my king, and here I am. He who loses his life for parents or master is born at once in heaven. Therefore I shall pass at once from this animal form to the world of the gods!" and he repeated the third stanza:

"Whatever be the place which they attain
  Who, by heroic self-forgetfulness,
Strive with all zeal a master's end to gain--
  To that same place I soon shall win access."

After this fashion did he discourse, repeating this stanza. The goblins listened, and were pleased in their heart. "This is a righteous creature," said they, "we must not kill him--let him go!" So they let him go, and said, "I say, Parrot, you're free! Go unharmed out of our hands!" [399]
"Do not let me return empty-handed," said the parrot: "give me a fruit off the tree!"
"Parrot," they said, "it is not our business to give you fruit off this tree. All the fruit on this tree is marked. If there is one fruit wrong we shall lose our lives. If Vessavaṇa is angry and looks but once, a thousand goblins are broken up and scattered like parched peas hopping about on a hot plate. So we cannot give you any. But we will tell you a place where you can get some."
"I care not who gives it," said the parrot, "but the fruit I must have. Tell me where I may get it."
"In one of the tortuous paths of the Golden Mountain lives an ascetic, by name Jotirasa, who watches the sacred fire in a leaf-thatched hut, called Kañcana-patti or Goldleaf, a favourite of Vessavaṇa; and Vessavaṇa sends him constantly four fruits from the tree; go to him."
The parrot took his leave, and came to the ascetic; he gave him greeting, and sat down on one side. The ascetic asked him,
"Where have you come from?" "From the king of Benares." "Why are you come?"
"Master, our Queen has a great craving for the fruit of the middle mango, and that is why I am come. Howbeit the goblins would not give me any themselves, but sent me to you."
"Sit down, then, and you shall have one," said the ascetic. Then came the four which Vessavaṇa used to send. The ascetic ate two of them, gave the parrot one to eat, and when this was eaten he hung the fourth by a string, and made it fast around the parrot's neck, and let him go--"Off with you, now!" said he. The parrot flew back and gave it to the Queen. She ate it, and satisfied her craving, but still all the same she had no son.

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[400] When the Master had ended this discourse, he identified the Birth in these words: "At that time Rāhula's mother was the Queen, Ānanda was the parrot, Sāriputta was the ascetic who gave the mango fruit, but the ascetic who lived in the park was I myself."

Footnotes

268:1 Two of the seven ratanas, or Treasures of the Empire of an universal monarch.
269:1 The phrase is meant to be enigmatical. It is explained below.
269:2 The idea of conception by eating of fruit and in other abnormal ways is fully discussed in The Legend of Perseus, E. S. Hartland, vol. i. chaps. 4-6.

No. 282.

SEYYA-JĀTAKA.

"’Tis best that you should know," etc.--This tale the Master told at Jetavana, about a courtier of the king of Kosala. This man was very useful to the king, we are told, and did everything that had to be done. Because he was very useful, the king did him great honour. The others were jealous, and concocted a slander, and calumniated him. The king believed their saying, and without enquiring into his guilt, bound him in chains, though virtuous and innocent, and cast him into prison. There he dwelt all alone; but, by reason of his virtue, he had peace of mind, and with mind at peace he understood the conditions of existence, and attained the fruition of the First Path. By and bye the king found that he was guiltless, and broke his chains and gave him honour more than before. The man wished to pay his respects to the Master; and taking flowers and perfumes, he went to the monastery, and did reverence to the Buddha, and sat respectfully aside. The Master talked graciously with him. "We have heard that ill fortune befel you," said he. "Yes, sir, but I made my ill fortune into good; and as I sat in prison, I produced the fruition of the First Path." "Good friend," said the Master, "you are not the only one who has turned evil into good; for wise men in the olden time turned evil into good as you did." And he told an old-world tale.

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Once on a time, when Brahmadatta was king of Benares, the Bodhisatta was born as the son of his Queen Consort. He grew up and was educated at Takkasilā; and on his father's death he became king, and kept the ten royal rules: he gave alms, practised virtue, [401] and observed the sacred day.
Now one of his courtiers intrigued among the king's wives. The servants noticed it, and told the king that so and so was carrying on an intrigue. The king found out the very truth of the matter, and sent for him. "Never show yourself before me again," said he, and banished him. The man went off to the court of a neighbouring king, and then all happened as described above in the Mahāsīlava Birth 1. Here too this king thrice tested him, and believing the word of the courtier came with a great army before Benares with intent to take it. When this was known to the chief warriors of the king of Benares, five hundred in number, they said to the king,
"Such and such a king has come here, wasting the country, with intent to take Benares--here, let us go and capture him!
"I want no kingdom that must be kept by doing harm," said the king. "Do nothing at all."

The marauding king surrounded the city. Again the courtiers approached the king, and said,
"My lord, be advised--let us capture him!"
"Nothing can be done," said the king. "Open the city gates." Then, surrounded by his court, he sate down in state upon the great dais.
The marauder entered the town, felling the men at the four gates and ascended the terrace. There he took prisoner the king with all his court, threw chains upon them and cast them into prison. The king, as he sat in prison, pitied the marauder, and an ecstasy of pity was stirred in him, By reason of this pity, the other king felt great torment in his body; he burnt all through as though with a twofold flame; and smitten with great pain, he asked what the matter was.
They replied, "You have cast a righteous king into prison, that is why this is come upon you."
He went and craved pardon of the Bodhisatta, and restored his kingdom, saying, "Your kingdom be your own. [402] Henceforward leave your enemies for me to deal with." He punished the evil counsellor, and returned to his own city.
The Bodhisatta sat in state upon his high dais, in festal array, with his court around him; and addressing them repeated the first two stanzas:

"’Tis best that you should know, the better part
Is evermore the better thing to do.
By treating one with kindliness of heart,
I saved an hundred men from death their due.

"Therefore to all the world I bid you show
The grace of kindliness and friendship dear;
And then alone to heaven you shall not go.
O people of the Kāsi country, hear!"
Thus the great Being praised virtue in the way of pitying the great multitude; and leaving the white umbrella in the great city of Benares, twelve leagues in extent, retired to Himalaya, and embraced the religious life.
[403] The Master, in his perfect wisdom, repeated the third stanza:

"These are the words that I, king Kaṁsa, said,
  I the great ruler of Benares town.
  I laid my bow, I laid my quiver down,
And my self-mastery I perfected."

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When the Master had ended this discourse, he identified the Birth: "At that time Ānanda was the marauding king, but the king of Benares was I myself."

Footnotes

273:1 No. 51 (vol. i. p. 129 of this translation).

 

Om Tat Sat
                                                        
(Continued...) 

(My humble salutations to Sreeman Professor E B Cowell ji and also Sreeman W H D Rouse for the collection)