THE JĀTAKA OR STORIES OF THE BUDDHA'S FORMER BIRTHS (Book -3) -4

THE JĀTAKA

OR

STORIES OF THE BUDDHA'S FORMER BIRTHS

No. 283.

VAḌḌHAKI-SŪKARA-JĀTAKA 

"The best, the best you always," etc.--This story the Master told in Jetavana about the Elder Dhanuggahatissa. Mahākosala, the father of king Pasenadi, when he married his daughter, the Lady Kosalā, to king Bimbisāra, gave a village of Kāsi, producing a revenue of a hundred thousand, for bath and perfume money. When Ajātasattu murdered the king his father, the lady Kosala died of grief. Then thought king Pasenadi, "Ajātasattu has killed his father, my sister has died from sympathy with her husband's misfortune; I will not give the Kāsi town to the parricide." So he refused to give it to Ajātasattu. About this village there was war betwixt these two from time to time. Ajātasattu was fierce and strong, and Pasenadi was a very old man, so he was beaten again and again, and the people of Mahākosala were generally conquered. Then the king asked his courtiers, "We are constantly being beaten; what is to be done?" "My lord," said they, "the reverend fathers are skilled in incantations. We must hear the word of the Brothers who dwell in the Jetavana monastery." Then the king despatched couriers, bidding them listen to the converse of the Brothers at a suitable time. Now at the time there were two old Elders living in a leaf-hut close to the monastery, whose names were Elder Utta and Elder Dhanuggahatissa. [404] Dhanuggahatissa had slept through the first and second watch of the night; and awaking in the last watch, he broke some sticks, lit a fire, and sitting down said, "Utta, my friend!" "What is it, friend Tissa?" "Are you not asleep?" "Now we are awake, what's to do?" "Get up, now, and sit by me." So he did, and began to talk to him. "That stupid, pot-bellied Kosala never has a jar full of boiled rice without letting it spoil; how to plan a war he knows not a bit. He is always being beaten and forced to pay." "But what should he do?" Now just then the couriers stood listening to their talk. The Elder Dhanuggahatissa discussed the nature of war. "War, Sir," said he, "consists of three kinds: the lotus army, the wheel army, and the waggon army 2. If those who wish to capture Ajātasattu will post garrisons in two hill-forts right away in the hills, and pretend that they are weak, and watch till they get him among the hills, and bar his passage, leap out from the two forts and take him in front and in the rear, and shout aloud, they will quickly have him like a landed fish, like a frog in the fist; and so they will be able to secure him." All this the couriers told their king. The king caused the drum to be beaten for the attack, arranged his army waggon-wise, took Ajātasattu alive; his daughter, Princess Vajirā he gave in marriage to his sister's son, and dismissed her with the Kāsi village for her bath-money.
This event became known among the Brotherhood. One day, they were all talking about it in the Hall of Truth; "Friend, I hear that the king of Kosala conquered Ajātasattu through the instructions of Dhanuggahatissa." The Master

came in; "What do you sit here talking about now, Brothers?" asked he. They told him. He said, "This is not the first time that Dhanuggahatissa was clever in discussing war": and he told them an old-world tale.

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[405] Once upon a time, when Brahmadatta was reigning in Benares, the Bodhisatta came to life as a tree-spirit. At that time there were some carpenters settled in a village near Benares. One of them, on going into the forest to get wood, found a young boar fallen in a pit, which he took home and kept. He grew big, with curved tusks, and was a well-mannered creature. Because the carpenter kept him, he went by the name of Carpenter's Boar. When the carpenter was chopping up a tree, the boar used to turn the tree over with his snout, and with his teeth fetch hatchet and adze, chisel and mallet, and pull along the measuring line by the end. The carpenter was afraid somebody might eat him up; so he took him and let him go in the forest. The Boar ran into the forest, looking for a safe and pleasant place to live in; and at last he espied a great cave up in a mountain side, with plenty of bulbs, and roots, and fruits, a pleasant living-place. Some hundreds of other boars saw him and approached him.
Said he to them, "You are just what I am looking for, and here I have found you. This seems a nice place; and here I mean to live now with you."
"A nice place it certainly is," said they, "but dangerous."
"Ah," said he, "as soon as I saw you, I wondered how it was that those who dwell in so plentiful a place could be so meagre in flesh and blood. What is it you are afraid of?"
"There is a tiger comes in the morning, and every one he sees he seizes and carries off."
"Does this always happen, or only now and then?"
"Always."
"How many tigers are there?"
"Only one."
"What--one alone too many for all of you!"
"Yes, Sir."
"I'll catch him, if you only do what I tell you. Where does this tiger live?"
"On that hill yonder."
So at night he drilled the Boars and prepared them for war; explaining to them the science. [406] "War is of three kinds--the lotus army, the wheel army, and the waggon army:" and he arranged them after the lotus pattern. He knew the place of vantage; so, says he, "Here we must set our battle." The mothers and their suckling brood he placed

in the middle; around these he put the sows that had no young; around these, the little boars; around these, those which were rather young; around these, all whose tusks were grown; around these, the boars fit for battle, strong and powerful, by tens and by twenties; thus he placed them in serried ranks. Before his own position he had a round hole dug; behind it, a pit getting gradually deeper and deeper, shaped like a winnowing basket 1. As he moved about amongst them, followed by sixty or seventy Boars, bidding them be of good courage, the dawn broke.
The Tiger awoke. "Time now!" thought he. He trotted up till he caught sight of them; then stopped still upon the plateau, glaring at the crowd of Boars. "Glare back!" cried the Carpenter's Boar, with a signal to the rest, They all glared. The Tiger opened his mouth, and drew a long breath: the Boars all did the same. The Tiger relieved himself: so did the Boars. Thus whatever the Tiger did, the Boars did after him.
"Why, what's this!" the Tiger wondered. "They used to take to their heels as soon as they saw me--indeed, they were too much frightened even to run. Now so far from running, they actually stand up against me! Whatever I do, they mimic. There's a fellow yonder on a commanding position: he it is who has organised the rabble. Well, I don't see how to get the better of them." And he turned away and went back to his lair.
Now there was a sham hermit, who used to get a share of the Tiger's prey. This time the Tiger returned empty-handed. Noticing this, the hermit repeated the following stanza. [407]

"The best, the best you always brought before
When you went hunting after the wild boar.
    Now empty-handed you consume with grief,
To-day where is the strength you had of yore?"

At this address, the Tiger repeated another stanza:

"Once they would hurry-scurry all about
To find their holes, a panic-stricken rout.
    But now they grunt in serried ranks compact:
Invincible, they stand and face me out."

"Oh, don't be afraid of them!" urged the hermit. "One roar and one leap will frighten them out of their wits, and send them pell-mell." The Tiger yielded to this insistence. Plucking up his courage, he went back and stood upon the plateau.
Carpenter's Boar stood between the two pits. "See Master! here's the scoundrel again! "cried the Boars. "Oh, don't be afraid," said he, "we have him now."

With a roar the Tiger leapt upon Carpenter's Boar. At the very instant he sprang, [408] the Boar dodged and dropped straight into the round hole. The Tiger could not stop, but tumbled over and over and fell all of a heap in the jaws of the other pit, where it got very narrow. Up jumps the Boar out of his hole, and quick as lightning ran his tusk into the Tiger's thighs, tore him about the kidneys, buried his fangs in the creature's sweet flesh, and wounded his head. Then he tosses him out of the pit, crying aloud--"Here's your enemy for you!" They who came first had tiger to eat; but they who came after went about sniffing at the others' mouths, and asking what tiger's flesh tasted like!
But the Boars were still uneasy. "What's the matter now?" asked our Hog, who had noticed their movements.
"Master," said they, "it's all very well to kill one tiger, but the sham hermit can bring ten tigers more!"
"Who is he?"
"A wicked ascetic."
"The tiger I have killed; do you suppose a man can hurt me? Come along, and we'll get hold of him." So they all set forth.
Now the man had been wondering why the Tiger was so long in coming. Could the Boars have caught him? he thought. At last he started to meet him on the way; and as he went, there came the Boars! He snatched up his belongings, and off he ran. The Boars tore after him. He threw away his encumbrances, and with all speed climbed up a fig-tree.
"Now, Master, it's all up!" cried the herd. "The man has climbed a tree!"
"What tree?" their leader asked.
They replied, "A fig-tree."
"Oh, very well," said the leader. "The sows must bring water, the young ones dig about the tree, the tuskers tear at the roots, and the rest surround it and watch." They did their several tasks as he bade them; he meanwhile charged full at a great thick root, [409]--’twas like an axe-blow; and with this one blow he felled the tree to the ground. The Boars who were waiting for the man, knocked him down, tore him to pieces, gnawed the bones clean in a moment!
Now they perched Carpenter's Boar on the tree-trunk. They filled the dead man's shell with water, and sprinkled the Boar to consecrate him for their king; a young sow they consecrated to be his Consort.
This, the saying goes, is the origin of the custom still observed. When people make a king now-a-days, he is placed on a fine chair of fig-wood, and sprinkled out of three shells.
A sprite that dwelt in that forest beheld this marvel. Appearing

before the Boars in a cleft of his tree-trunk, he repeated the third stanza:

"Honour to all the tribes assembled be!
A wondrous union I myself did see!
How tuskers once a tiger overcame
By federal strength and tusked unity!"

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After this discourse the Master identified the Birth: "Dhanuggaha the Elder was the Carpenter's Boar, and I was the tree-sprite."

Footnotes

275:1 See Morris, Folk-lore Journal, iv. 48.
275:2 These are technical terms in Sanskrit also (padmavyūho, çakaṭa°, cakra°); see Manu 7. 188, 7. 187, and B. R. diet. s.v. The 'wheel' explains itself: the 'waggon' was a wedge-shaped phalanx; the 'lotus,' as noted by Bühler (trans. of Manu in S. B. E. page 246), is "equally extended on all sides and perfectly circular, the centre being occupied by the king."
277:1 The winnowing basket has low walls on three sides, two of them sloping towards the open end. See a picture in Grierson, Bihar Peasant Life, 118.

No. 284.

SIRI-JĀTAKA.

"Whatever riches they who strive," etc.--This story the Master told about a brahmin who stole good luck. [410] The circumstances of this birth-tale are given above in the Khadiraṅga Birth 1. As before, the heretical spirit that lived in the gate tower of Anāthapiṇḍika's house, doing penance, brought four and fifty crores of gold and filled the store-rooms, and became a friend of the great man. He led her before the Master. The Master discoursed to her. She heard, and entered on the stream of conversion. Thenceforward the great man's honour was great as before. Now there was living in Sāvatthi a brahmin, versed in lucky marks, who thought on this wise. "Anāthapiṇḍika was poor, and then became famous. What if I make as though I went to see him, and steal his luck?" So to the house he went, and was welcomed hospitably. After exchanging civilities, the host asked why he had come. The brahmin was looking about to see where the man's luck lay. Now Anāthapiṇḍika had a white cock, white as a scoured shell, which he kept in a golden cage, and in the comb of this cock lay the great man's luck. The brahmin looked about and spied where the luck lay. "Noble sir," said he, "I teach magic charms to five hundred young fellows. We are plagued by a cock that crows at the wrong time. Your cock crows at the right time. For him I have come; will you give him to me?" "Yes," said the other: and at the instant the word was uttered, the hick left the cockscomb, and settled in a jewel put away in the pillow. The brahmin observed that the luck had gone into this jewel, and asked for it too. As soon as the owner agreed to give it, the luck left the jewel, and settled in a club for self-defence which lay upon the pillow. The brahmin saw it and asked again. "Take it, and take your leave," said the owner; and in an instant the luck left the club, and settled on the head of the owner's chief wife, who was named the Lady Puññalakkhaṇā. The thievish brahmin thought, when he saw this, "This is an inalienable article which I cannot ask for." Then he told the great man, "Noble sir," said he, "I came to your house to steal your luck. The luck was in the comb of your

cock. But when you gave me the cock, the luck passed into this jewel; when you gave me the jewel it passed into your stick; when you gave the stick to me, it went out of it [411] and passed into the head of the Lady Puññalakkhaṇā. Surely this is inalienable, I can never get it. It is impossible to steal your luck--keep it, then!" and rising from his seat, he departed. Anāthapiṇḍika determined to tell the Master; so he came to the monastery, and after respectfully greeting him, sat on one side, and told the Buddha all about it. The Master listened, and said, "Goodman, now-a-days the luck of one man does not go to another. But formerly the luck belonging to those of small wit went to the wise;" and he told him an old-world tale.

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Once on a time, when Brahmadatta reigned in Benares, the Bodhisatta was born into a Brahmin family in the realm of Kāsi. On growing up, he was educated at Takkasilā, and lived among his family; but when his parents died, much distressed he retired to the life of a recluse in Himalaya, and there he cultivated the Faculties and the Attainments.
A long time passed, and he came down to inhabited parts for salt and savouring, and took up his quarters in the gardens of the king of Benares. Next day, on his begging rounds, he came to the door of an elephant-trainer. This man took a fancy to his ways and manners, fed him, and gave him lodging in his own grounds, waiting upon him continually.
Now it happened just then that a man whose business it was to gather firewood failed to get back to town from the woods in time. He lay down for the night in a temple, placing a bundle of sticks under his head for a pillow. At this temple there were a number of cocks quite free, which had perched close by on a tree. Towards morning, one of them, who was roosting high, let fall a dropping on the back of a bird below. "Who dropt that on me?" cried this one. "I did," cried the first. "And why?" "Didn't think," said the other; and then did it again. Hereupon they both began to abuse each other, crying--"What power have you? what power have you?" At last the lower one said, "Anybody who kills me, and eats my flesh roasted on the coals, [412] gets a thousand pieces of money in the morning!" And the one above answered--"Pooh, pooh, don't boast about a little thing like that! Anybody who eats my fleshy parts will become king; if he eats my outside, he'll become commander-in-chief or chief queen, according as he's man or woman; if he eats the flesh by my bones, he'll get the post of royal Treasurer, if he be a householder; or, if a holy man, will become the king's favourite!
The stick-picker heard all this, and pondered. "Now if I become king, there'll be no need of a thousand pieces of money." Quietly he climbed the tree, caught the topmost. cock and killed him: he fastened

him in a fold of his dress, saying to himself--"Now I'll be king!" As soon as the gates were opened, in he walked. He plucked the fowl, and cleaned it, and gave it to his wife, bidding her make the meat nice for eating. She got ready the meat with some rice, and set it before him, bidding her lord eat.
"Goodwife," said he, "there's great virtue in this meat. By eating it I shall become king, and you my queen!" So they took the meat and rice down to the Ganges bank, intending to bathe before eating it. Then, putting meat and rice down upon the bank, in they went to bathe.
Just then a breeze stirred up the water, which washed away the meat. Down the river it floated, till it came in sight of an elephant-trainer, a great personage, who was giving his elephants a bath lower down. "What have we here?" said he, and picked it up. "It's fowl and rice, my lord," was the reply. He bade wrap it up, and seal it, and sent it home to his wife, with a message to open it for him when he returned.
The stick-picker also ran off, with his belly puffed out with sand and water which he had swallowed.
Now a certain ascetic, who had divine vision, the favourite chaplain of the elephant-trainer, was thinking to himself, "My patron friend does not leave his post with the elephants. When will he attain promotion?" As he thus pondered, he saw this man by his divine insight, and perceived what was a-doing. He went on before, and sat in the patron's house.
When the master returned, [413] he greeted him respectfully and sat down on one side. Then, sending for the parcel, he ordered food and water to be brought for the ascetic. The ascetic did not accept the food which was offered him; but said, "I will divide this food." The master gave him leave. Then separating the meat into portions, he gave to the elephant-trainer the fleshy parts, the outside to his wife, and took the flesh about the bones for his own share. After the meal was over, he said, "On the third day from this you will become king. Take care what you do!" and away he went.
On the third day a neighbouring king came and beleaguered Benares. The king told his elephant-trainer to dress in the royal robes, bidding him go mount his elephant and fight. He himself put on a disguise, and mingled with the ranks; swift came an arrow, and pierced him, so that he perished then and there. The trainer, learning that the king was dead, sent for a great quantity of money, and heat the drum, proclaiming, "Let those who want money, advance, and fight!" The warrior host in a twinkling slew the hostile king.
After the king's obsequies the courtiers deliberated who was to be

made king. Said they, "While our king was yet alive, he put his royal robes upon the elephant-trainer. This very man has fought and won the kingdom. To him the kingdom shall be given!" And they consecrated him king, and his wife they made the chief queen. The Bodhisatta became his confidant.

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After this discourse the Master, in his perfect wisdom, gave utterance to the two stanzas following:

"Whatever riches they who strive amain
Without the aid of luck can ever gain,
    All that, by favour of the goddess Luck,
Both skilled and unskilled equally obtain.

"All the world over many meet our sight,
Not only good, but creatures different quite,
    Whose lot it is fruition to possess
Of wealth in store which is not theirs by right."
[414] After this the Master added, "Good air, these beings have no other resource but their merit won in previous births; this enables you to obtain treasures in places where there is no mine." Then he recited the following scripture 1.

"There is a treasury of all good things
Which both to gods and men their wishes brings.
Fine looks, voice, figure, form, and sovranty
With all its pomp, lies in that treasury.
Lordship and government, imperial bliss,
The crown of heaven, within that treasure is.
All human happiness, the joys of heaven,
Nirvana's self, from out that store is given.
True ties of friendship, wisdom's liberty,
Firm self-control, lies in that treasury.
Salvation, understanding, training fit
To make Pacceka Buddhas come from it.
Thus hath this merit a virtue magical;
The wise and stedfast praise it one and all."

(415] Lastly the Fowl repeated the third stanza, explaining the treasures in which lay the luck of Anāthapiṇḍika,

"A fowl, a gem, a club, a wife--
All these with lucky marks were rife.
For all these treasures, be it known,
A good and sinless man did own."

Then he identified the Birth: "Elder Ānanda was the King, and the family priest was the Very Buddha."

Footnotes

279:1 No. 40, vol. i. page 100.
282:1 Khud. Pātha, p

No. 285.

MAṆISŪKARA-JĀTAKA 1.

"To hell shall go he" etc.--This story the Master told at Jetavana, about the murder of Sundarī. At that time we learn that the Bodhisatta was honoured and respected. The circumstances were the same as in the Kandhaka 2; this is an abstract of them. The brotherhood of the Blessed One had received gain and honour like five rivers pouring in a mighty flood; the heretics, finding that gain and honour came to them no longer, becoming dim like fireflies at sunrise, they collected together, and took counsel: "Ever since the priest Gotama appeared, our gain and glory has gone from us. Not a soul ever knows that we exist. Who will help us to bring reproach on Gotama, and prevent him from getting all this?" Then an idea occurred to them. "Sundarī will make us able to do it." So when one day Sundarī visited the heretics' grove, they gave her greeting, but said nothing more. She addressed them again and again, but received no answer. "Has anything annoyed the holy fathers?" she asked. "Why, sister," said they, "do not you see how the priest Gotama annoys us, depriving us of alms and honour?" "What can I do about it?" she said. "You, sister, are fair and lovely. You can bring disgrace upon Gotama, and your words will influence a great many, [416] and you can thus restore our gains and good repute." She agreed, and took her leave. After this she used to take flowers and scents and perfumes, camphor, condiments and fruits, and at evening time, when a great crowd had entered the city after hearing the Master's discourse, she would set her face towards Jetavana. If any asked where she was going, she would say, "To the Priest Gotama; I live with him in one perfumed chamber." Then she spent the night in a heretical settlement, and in the morning entered the road which led from Jetavana into the city. If any asked her where she was going, she replied, "I have been with the priest Gotama in one perfumed chamber, and he made love to me." After the lapse of some days they hired some ruffians to kill Sundarī before Gotama's chamber and throw her body into the dust-heap. And so they did. Then the heretics made a hue and cry after Sundarī, and informed the king. He asked where their suspicions pointed. They answered that she had gone the last few days to Jetavana, but what happened afterwards they did not know. He sent them to search for her. Acting on this permission, they took his own servants, and went to Jetavana, where they hunted about till they found her in the dust-heap. Calling for a litter, they brought the body into the town, and told the king that the disciples of Gotama had killed Sundarī, and thrown her in the dust-heap, in order to cloak the sin of their Master. The king bade them scour the city. All through the streets they went, crying, "Come and see what has been done by the priests of the Sakya prince!" and came back to the palace door. The king had placed the body of Sundarī upon a platform, and had it watched in the cemetery. All the populace, except the holy disciples, went about inside the town, outside the town, in the parks and in the woods, abusing the Brethren, and crying out, "Come and see what the priests of the Sakya prince have done!" The Brethren told all this to the Buddha. Said the Master, "Well, go and reprove these people in these words:

"To hell shall go he that delights in lies,
And he who having done a thing, denies:
[417] Both these, when death has carried them away,
As men of evil deeds elsewhere shall rise 1."

The king directed some men to find out whether Sundarī had been killed by anybody else. Now the ruffians had drunk the blood-money, and were quarrelling together. Said one to another, "You killed Sundarī with one blow, and then threw her in the dust-heap, and here you are, buying liquor with the blood-money!" "All right, all right," said the king's messengers; and they caught the ruffians and dragged them before the king. "Did you kill herd" asked the king. They said, yes, they did. "Who bade you?" "The heretics, my lord." The king had the heretics summoned. "Lift up Sundarī," said he, "and carry her round the city, crying as you go: 'This woman Sundarī wanted to bring disgrace upon the priest Gotama; we had her murdered; the guilt is not Gotama's, nor his disciples’; the guilt is ours!'" They did so. A multitude of the unconverted believed, and the heretics were kept out of mischief by receiving the punishment for murder. Thenceforward the Buddha's reputation grew greater and greater. And then one day they began to gossip in the Hall of Truth: "Friend, the heretics thought to blacken the Buddha, and they only blackened themselves: ever since, our gains and glory have increased!" The Master came in, and asked what they were talking about? They told him. "Brethren," said he, "it is impossible to make the Buddha impure. Trying to stain the Buddha, is like trying to stain a gem of the first water. In bygone ages people have wished to stain a fine jewel, and no matter how they tried, they failed to do it." 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 into a Brahmin family. When he grew up, perceiving the suffering that arises from desire, he went away, and traversed three ranges of Himalaya, where he became a hermit, and lived in a hut of leaves.
Near his hut was a crystal cave, in which lived thirty Boars. Near the cave a Lion used to range. [418] His shadow used to be reflected in the crystal. The Boars used to see this reflection, and terror made them lean and thin-blooded. Thought they, "We see the reflection because this crystal is clear. We will make it dirty and discolour it." So they got some mud from a pool close by, and rubbed and rubbed the crystal with it. But the crystal, being constantly polished by the boars' bristles, got brighter than ever.
They did not know how to manage it; so they determined to ask the hermit how they might sully the crystal. To him therefore they came, and after respectful greeting, they sat down beside him, and gave utterance to these two verses:

"Seven summers we have been
  Thirty in a crystal grot.
Now we are keen to dull the sheen--
  But dull it we can not. p. 285

"Though we try with all our might
To obscure its brilliancy,
Still more bright shines forth the light,
What can the reason be?"
The Bodhisatta listened. Then he repeated the third stanza:

"’Tis precious crystal, spotless, bright, and pure;
No glass--its brilliancy for ever sure.
Nothing on earth its brightness can impair.
Boars, you had best betake yourselves elsewhere."

And so they did, on hearing this answer. The Bodhisatta lost himself in rapturous ecstasy, and became destined to Brahma's world.

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After this discourse was ended, the Master identified the Birth: "At that time, I was the hermit."

Footnotes

283:1 Cf. Morris, Folk-lore Journal, iv. 58.
283:2 This story is given in Udānaṁ, iv. 8 (p. 43). Khandhakaṁ seems to mean the Vinaya (Childers s. v., J. P. T. S. 1888 s. v.), but I cannot find the story there.
284:1 Dhammapada, v. 306; Sutta Nipāta, v. 661.

No. 286.

SĀLŪKA-JĀTAKA 1.

[419] "Envy not what Celery eats" etc.--This story the Master told in Jetavana, about the temptation springing from a fat girl. The circumstances will be explained in the Cullanāradakassapa 2 story. So the Master asked this brother whether it was true he had fallen in love. Yes, he said. "With whom?" the Master asked. "With a fat girl." "That woman, brother," said the Master, "is your bane; long ago, as now, you became food for the crowd through your desire to marry her." Then at the request of the brethren he told an old-world tale.

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Once upon a time, when Brahmadatta reigned in Benares, the Bodhisatta was an ox named Big Redcoat, and he had a young brother called Little Redcoat. Both of them worked for a family in some village.

There was in this family a grown-up girl, who was asked in marriage by another family. Now in the first family a pig called Sālūka or Celery 1, was being fatted, on purpose to serve for a feast on the wedding-day; it used to sleep in a sty 2.
One day, Little Redcoat said to his brother, "Brother, we work for this family, and we help them to get their living. Yet they only give us grass and straw, while they feed you pig with rice porridge, and let it sleep in a sty; and what can it do for them?"
"Brother," said Big Redcoat, "don't covet his porridge. They want to make a feast of him on our young lady's wedding-day, that's why they are fattening him up. Wait a few days, and you'll see him dragged out of his sty, killed, chopped into bits, and eaten up by the visitors." So saying, he composed the first two stanzas: [420]

"Envy not what Celery eats;
Deadly is the food he gets.
Be content and eat your chaff:
It means long life on your behalf.

"By and bye the guest will come,
With his gossips all and some.
All chopt up poor Celery
With his big flat snout will lie."
A few days after, the wedding guests came, and Sālūka was killed and made a meal of. Both oxen, seeing what became of him, thought their own chaff was the best.

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The Master, in his perfect wisdom, repeated the third stanza by way of explanation:

"When they saw the flat-snout lie
All chopt up, poor Celery,
Said the oxen, Best by half
Surely is our humble chaff!"

When the Master had finished this discourse, he declared the Truths, and identified the Birth:--at the conclusion of the Truths, the Brother in question attained the fruition of the First Path:--"At that time, the stout girl was the same, the lovesick brother was Sālūka, Ānanda was Little Redcoat, and I was Big Redcoat myself." '

Footnotes

285:1 Compare No. 30, Vol. i. p. 75, and No. 477; parallels are quoted by Benfey, Pañcatantra pref. pp. 228, 229. Æsop's fable of the Calf and the Ox will occur to the reader. See also Rhys Davids' note to his translation of No, 30.
285:2 No. 477.
286:1 Lit. edible lotus root.
286:2 Heṭṭhamañca, 'perhaps the platform outside the house under the eaves, a favourite resort.' Cp. Rhys Davids, Buddhist Birth Stories, p. 277.

No. 287.

LĀBHA-GARAHA-JĀTAKA.

"He that hath madness," etc.--This story the Master told at Jetavana, about a fellow-priest of the Elder Sāriputta. [421] This brother came and greeted the Elder, and sitting on one side, he asked him to tell the way in which one could get gain, and how he could get dress and the like. The Elder replied, "Friend, there are four qualities which make a man successful in getting gain. He must get rid of modesty from his heart, must resign his orders, must seem to be mad even if he is not; he must speak slander; he must behave like a dancer; he must use unkind words everywhere." Thus he explained how a man gets a great deal. The brother objected to this method, and went away. The Elder went to his Master, and told him about it. The Master said, "This is not the first time that this brother spoke in dispraise of gain; he did the same before;" and then, at the request of the Elder, he told an old-world tale.

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Once upon a time, when Brahmadatta was king of Benares, the Bodhisatta was born in a Brahmin family. When he grew up to the age of sixteen years, he had already mastered the three Vedas and the eighteen accomplishments; and he became a far-famed teacher, who educated a body of five hundred young men. One young man, a youth of virtuous life, approached his teacher one day with the question, "How is it these people get gain?

The teacher answered, "My son, there fife four qualities which procure gain for those people;" and he repeated the first stanza:--

"He that hath madness, he that slanders well,
That hath an actor's tricks, ill tales doth tell,
Such is the man that wins prosperity
Where all are fools: let this your maxim be."

[422] The pupil, on hearing his master's words, expressed his disapproval of gain-getting in the two following stanzas:--

"Shame upon him that gain or glory wins
By dire destruction and by wicked sins.

"With bowl in hand a homeless life I'll lead
Rather than live in wickedness and greed."

[423] Thus did the youth praise the quality of the religious life; and straight became a hermit, and craved alms with righteousness, cultivating the Attainments, until he became destined to Brahma's world.

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When the Master had ended this discourse he thus identified the Birth:--"At that time the brother who disapproved of gain was the young man, but his teacher was I myself."

No. 288.

MACCH-UDDĀNA-JĀTAKA 1.

"Who could believe the story," etc.--This story the Master told at Jetavana about a dishonest merchant. The circumstances have been told above.

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Once upon a time, when Brahmadatta was king of Benares, the Bodhisatta was born in the family of a landed proprietor.
When he grew up, he became a wealthy man. He had a young brother. Afterwards their father died. They determined to arrange some business of their father's. This took them to a village, where they were paid a thousand pieces of money. On their way back, as they waited on a river-bank for the boat, they ate a meal out of a leaf-pottle. The Bodhisatta threw what he left into the Ganges for the fishes, giving the merit to the river-spirit. The spirit accepted this with gratification, which increased her divine power, and on thinking over this increase of her power, became aware what had happened. The Bodhisatta [424] laid his upper garment upon the sand, and there he lay down and went to sleep.
Now the young brother was of a rather thievish nature. He wanted to filch the money from the Bodhisatta and keep it himself; so he packed a parcel of gravel to look like the parcel of money, and put them both away.
When they had got aboard, and were come to mid-river, the younger stumbled against the side of the boat, and dropt overboard the parcel of gravel, as he thought, but really the money.
"Brother, the money's overboard!" he cried. "What's to be done?"
"What can we do? What's gone is gone. Never mind about it," replied the other.
But the river-spirit thought how pleased she had been with the merit she had received, and how her divine power had been increased, and resolved to take care of his property. So by her power she made a big-mouthed fish swallow the parcel, and took care of it herself:
When the thief got home, he chuckled over the trick he had served his brother, and undid the remaining parcel. There was nothing but gravel to be seen! His heart dried up; he fell on his bed, and clutched the bedstead.

Now some fishermen just then cast their nets for a draught. By power of the river-spirit, this fish fell into the net. The fishers took it to town to sell. People asked what the price was.
"A thousand pieces and seven annas," said the fishermen.
Everybody made fun of them. "We have seen a fish offered for a thousand pieces!" they laughed.
The fishers brought their fish to the Bodhisatta's door, and asked him to buy it.
"What's the price?" he asked.
"You may have it for seven annas," they said.
"What did you ask other people for it?"
"From other people we asked a thousand rupees and seven alms; but you may have it for seven arenas," they said.
He paid seven arenas for it, and sent it to his wife. She cut it open, and there was the parcel of money! [425] She called the Bodhisatta. He gave a look, and recognising his mark, knew it for his own. Thought he, "These fishers asked other people the price of a thousand rupees and seven annas, but because the thousand rupees were mine, they let me have it for seven annas only! If a man does not understand the meaning of this, nothing will ever make him believe:" and then he repeated the first stanza:--

"Who could believe the story, were he told,
That fishes for a thousand should be sold?
They're seven pence to me: how I could wish
To buy a whole string of this kind of fish!"

When he had said this, he wondered how it was that he had recovered his money. At the moment the river-spirit hovered invisibly in the air, and declared--
"I am the Spirit of the Ganges. You gave the remains of your meal to the fishes, and let me have the merit. Therefore I have taken care of your property;" and she repeated a stanza:--

"You fed the fish, and gave a gift to me.
This I remember, and your piety."

[426] Then the spirit told about the mean trick which the younger brother had played. Then she added, "There he lies, with his heart dried up within him. There is no prosperity for the cheat. But I have brought you your own, and I warn you not to lose it. Don't give it to your young thief of a brother, but keep it all yourself." Then she repeated the third stanza:--

"There's no good fortune for the wicked heart,
And in the sprites' respect he has no part;
Who cheats his brother of paternal wealth
And works out evil deeds by craft and stealth."

  Thus spoke the spirit, not wishing that the treacherous villain should receive the money. But the Bodhisatta said, "That is impossible," and all the same sent the brother five hundred.

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After this discourse, the Master declared the Truths:--at the conclusion of which the merchant entered upon the fruition of the first path:--and identified the Birth:--"At that time the younger brother was the dishonest merchant, but the elder was I myself."

Footnotes

288:1 Folk-lore Journal, iii. 364.

No. 289.

NĀNA-CCHANDA-JĀTAKA.

"We live in one house," etc.--This story the Master told in Jetavana, about the venerable Ānanda's taking a valuable article. The circumstances will be explained in the Juṇha Birth, in the Eleventh Book 1.

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[427] Now once upon a time, when Brahmadatta was reigning in Benares, the Bodhisatta was horn as the son of his Queen Consort. He grew up, and was educated at Takkasilā,; and became king on his father's death. There was a family priest of his father's who had been removed from his post, and being very poor lived in an old house.
One night it happened that the king was walking about the city in disguise, to explore it. Some thieves, their work done, had been drinking in a wine-shop, and were carrying some more liquor home in a jar. They spied him there in the street, and crying--"Halloo, who are you?" they knocked him down, and took his upper robe; then, they picked up their jar, and off they went, scaring him the while.
The aforesaid brahmin chanced at the time to be in the street observing the constellations. He saw how the king had fallen into unfriendly hands, and called to his wife; quickly she came, asking what it was. Said he 2, "Wife, our king has got into the hands of his enemies!" "Why,

your reverence," said she, "what dealings have you with the king? His brahmins will see to it." This the king heard, and, going on a little, called out to the rascals, "I'm a poor man, masters--take my robe and let me go!" As he said this again and again, they let him go out of pity. He took note of the place they lived in, and turned back again.
Said the brahmin to his wife, "Wife, our king has got away from the hands of his enemies!" The king heard this as before; and entered his palace.
When dawn came, the king summoned his brahmins, and asked then a question.
"Have you been taking observations?"
"Yes, my lord."
"Was it lucky or unlucky?"
"Lucky, my lord."
"No eclipse?"
"No, my lord, none."
Said the king, "Go and fetch me the brahmin from such and such a house," giving them directions.
So they fetched the old chaplain, and the king proceeded to question him. [428]
"Did you take observations last night, master?"
"Yes, my lord, I did."
"Was there any eclipse?"
"Yes, my lord: last night you fell into the hands of your enemies, and in a moment you got free again."
The king said, "That is the kind of man a star-gazer ought to be." He dismissed the other brahmins; he told the old one that he was pleased with him, and bade him ask a boon. The man asked leave to consult with his family, and the king allowed him.
The man summoned wife and son, daughter-in-law and maidservant, and laid the matter before them. "The king has granted me a boon; what shall I ask?"
Said the wife, "Get me a hundred milch kine."
The son, named Chatta, said, "For me, a chariot drawn by fine lily-white thoroughbreds."
Then the daughter-in-law, "For me, all manner of trinkets, earrings set with gems, and so forth!"
And the maidservant (whose name was Puṇṇā), "For me, a pestle and mortar, and a winnowing basket."
The brahmin himself wanted to have the revenue of a village as his boon. So when he returned to the king, and the king wanted to know whether his wife had been asked, the brahmin replied, "Yes, my lord

king; but those who are asked are not all of one mind"; and he repeated a couple of stanzas:--

"We live in one house, O king,
But we don't all want the same thing.
My wife's wish--a hundred kine;
A prosperous village is mine;
The student's of course is a carriage and horses,
Our girl wants an earring fine.
While poor little Puṇṇā, the maid,
Wants pestle and mortar, she said!"

"All right," said the king, "they shall all have what they want"; and repeated the remaining lines:--[429]

"Give a hundred kine to the wife,
To the goodman a village for life,
And a jewelled earring to the daughter:
A carriage and pair be the student's share,
And the maid gets her pestle and mortar 1."

Thus the king gave the brahmin what he wished, and great honour besides; and bidding him thenceforward busy himself about the king's business, he kept the brahmin in attendance upon himself.

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

Footnotes

290:1 No. 456.
290:2 sā is a mistake for so.
292:1 I hope the indulgent reader will pardon the rime.

No. 290.

SĪLA-VĪMAṀSA-JĀTAKA 2.

"Virtue is lovely," etc.--This story the Master told at Jetavana, about a brahmin who put his reputation to the test. The circumstances which gave rise to it, and the story itself, are both given in the Silavīmaṁsa Birth-tale, in the First Book. Here, as before

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When Brahmadatta was king of Benares, his chaplain resolved to test his own reputation for virtue, and on two days abstracted a coin from the
  Treasurer's counter. On the third day they dragged him to the king, and accused him of theft. On the way he noticed some snake-charmers making a snake dance. The king asked him what he had done such a thing for. The brahmin replied, "To try my reputation for virtue ": and went on

"Virtue is lovely--so the people deem--
Virtue in all the world is held supreme.
Behold! this deadly snake they do not slay,
              'For he is good,' they say.

[430] "Here I proclaim how virtue is all-blest
And lovely in the world: whereof possest
He that is virtuous evermore is said
              Perfection's path to tread.
"To kinsfolk dear, he shines among his friends;
And when his union with the body ends,
He that to practise virtue has been fain
              In heaven is born again."
Having thus in three stanzas declared the beauty of virtue and discoursed to them, the Bodhisatta went on--"Great king, a great deal has been given to you by my family, my father's property, my mother's, and what I have gained myself: there is no end to it. But I took these coins from the treasury to try my own value. Now I see how worthless in this world is birth and lineage, blood and family, and how much the best is virtue. I will embrace the religious life; allow me to do so!" After many entreaties, the king at last consented. He left the world, and retired to Himalaya, where he took to the religious life, and cultivated the Faculties and the Attainments until he came to Brahma's world.

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When the Master had ended this discourse, he identified the Birth: "At that time the Brahman chaplain who tried his reputation for virtue was I myself."

Footnotes

292:2 Compare Nos. 86, 290, 305, 330, 362.

No. 291.

BHADRA-GHAṬA-JĀTAKA.

[431] "A ne’er-do-well did once," etc.--This story the Master told at Jetavana, about a nephew of Anāthapiṇḍika. This person had squandered an inheritance of forty crores of gold. Then the visited his uncle, who gave him a thousand, and bade him trade with it. The man squandered this, and then came again; and

once more he was given five hundred. Having squandered this like the rest, next time his uncle gave him two coarse garments; and when he had worn these out, and once more applied, his uncle had him taken by the neck and turned out of doors. The fellow was helpless, and fell down by a side-wall and died. They dragged him outside and threw him down there. Anāthapiṇḍika went and told the Buddha what had happened to his nephew. Said the Master, "How could you expect to satisfy the man whom I long ago failed to satisfy, even when I gave him the Wishing Cup?" and at his request, he proceeded to tell him an old-world tale.

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Once upon a time, when Brahmadatta was reigning in Benares, the Bodhisatta was born as a rich merchant's son; and after his father's death, took his place. In his house was buried a treasure of four hundred million. He had an only son. The Bodhisatta gave alms and did good until he died, and then he came to life again as Sakka, king of the gods. His son proceeded to make a pavilion across the road, and sat down with many friends round him, to drink. He paid a thousand pieces to runners and tumblers, singers and dancers, and passed his time in drinking, gluttony, and debauchery; he wandered about, asking only for song, music, and dancing, devoted to his boon-companions, sunk in sloth. So in a short time he squandered all his treasure of four hundred millions, [432] all his property, goods, and furniture, and got so poor and miserable that he had to go about clad in rags.

Sakka, as he meditated, became aware how poor he was. Overcome with love for his son, he gave him a Wishing Cup, with these words: "Son, take care not to break this cup. So long as you keep it, your wealth will never come to an end. So take good care of it!" and then he returned to heaven.

After that the man did nothing but drink out of it. One day, he was drunk, and threw the cup into the air, catching it as it fell. But once he missed it. Down it fell upon the earth, and smashed! Then he got poor again, and went about in rags, begging, bowl in hand, till at last he lay down by a wall, and died.

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When the Master had finished this tale, he went on:--

"A ne’er-do-well did once a Bowl acquire,
A Bowl that gave hire all his heart's desire.
And of this Bowl so long as he took care,
        His fortunes were all fair.

"When, proud and drunken, in a careless hour,
He broke the Bowl that gave him all this power,
Naked, poor fool! in rags and tatters, he
        Fell in great misery. p. 295

"Not otherwise whoso great fortune owes,
But in the enjoying it no measure knows,
Is scorched anon, even as the knave--poor soul!--
        That broke his Wishing Bowl."

Repeating these stanzas in his perfect wisdom, he identified the Birth: "At that time Anāthapiṇḍika's nephew was the rascal who broke the Lucky Cup, but I myself was Sakka."

No. 292.

SUPATTA-JĀTAKA 1.

[433] "Here, in Benares city," etc.--This story the Master told in Jetavana, about a meal of rice mixed with new ghee, with red fish to flavour it, which was given by Elder Sāriputta to Bimbādevī. The circumstances are like those given above in the Abbhantara Birth-tale 2. Here too the holy Sister had a pain in the stomach. The excellent Rāhula told the Elder. He seated Rāhula in his waiting-room, and went to the king to get the rice, red fish and new ghee. The lad gave it to the holy sister, his mother. No sooner had she eaten than the pain subsided. The king sent messengers to make enquiries, and after that always sent her that kind of food. One day they began to talk about it in the Hall of Truth: "Friend, the Captain of the Faith satisfied the Sister with such and such food." The Master came in, and asked what they were talking about: they told him. Said he, "This is not the first time, Brother, that Sāriputta has given Rāhula's mother what she wanted; he did the same before." So saying, he told an old-world tale.

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Once upon a time, when Brahmadatta was king in Benares, the Bodhisatta was born as a Crow. He grew up, and became chief of eighty thousand crows, a Crow king, by name, Supatta, or Fairwing; and his chief mate went by the name of Suphassā or Softie, his chief Captain was called Sumukho--Prettybeak. With his eighty thousand subjects, he dwelt hard by Benares.
One day he and his mate in search of food passed over the king's kitchen. The king's cook had been preparing a host of dishes, of all sorts of fish, and he had uncovered the dishes for a moment, to cool them. Queen Crow smelt the odour of the food, and longed for a hit. But that day she said nothing.

However the next day, when King Crow proposed that they should go a-feeding, she said, "Go by yourself: there's something I want very much!"
"What is it?" asked he.
"I want some of the king's food to eat; [434] and as I can't get it, I am going to die."
The Crow sat down to think. Prettybeak approached him and asked if anything had displeased him. King Crow told him what it was. "Oh, that'll be all right," said the Captain; and added, to console them both, "you stay where you are to-day, and I'll fetch the meat."
So he gathered the Crows together, and told them the matter. "Now come, and let's get it!" said he; and off they all flew together to Benares. He posted them in companies here and there, near the kitchen to watch; and he, with eight champions, sat on the kitchen roof. While waiting for the king's food to be served, he gave his directions to these: "When the food is taken up, I'll make the man drop the dishes. Once that is done there's an end of me. So four of you must fill your mouths with the rice, and four with the fish, and feed our royal pair with them; and if they ask where I am, say I'm coming."
Well, the cook got his various dishes all ready, hung them on a balance-pole, and went off towards the king's rooms. As he passed through the court, the Crow Captain with a signal to his followers flew and settled upon the carrier's chest, struck him with extended claws, with his beak, sharp as a spear-point, pecked the end of the man's nose, and with his two feet stopped up his jaws.
The king was walking up and down upon an upper floor, when looking out of a large window he saw what the crow was doing. He hailed the carrier:"--Hullo you, down with the dishes and catch the crow!" so the man dropt the dishes and caught the crow tight.
"Come here!" cried the king.
Then the crows ate all they wanted, [435] and picked up the rest as they had been told, and carried it off. Next all the others flocked up, and ate what remained. The eight champions gave it to their king and queen to eat. The craving of Softie was appeased.
The servant who was carrying the dinner brought his crow to the king.
"O Crow!" said he, "you have shown no respect for me! you have broken my servitor's nose! you have smashed my dishes! you have recklessly thrown away your life! What made you do such things?"
Answered the Crow, "O great king! Our king lives near Benares, and I am captain of his forces. His wife (whose name is Softie) conceived a great longing, and wanted a taste of your food. Our king told me what she craved. At once I devoted my life. Now I have sent her the food;

my desire is accomplished. This is the reason why I acted as I did." And to explain the matter, he said

"Here in Benares city, O great king,
There dwells a king of Crows that Night Fairwing;
Who was attended by a following
         Of eighty thousand Crows.

"Softie, his mate, had one o’ermastering wish:
She craved a supper of the king's own fish,
Fresh caught, cooked in his kitchen,--such a dish
         As to kings' tables goes.
"You now behold me as their messenger;
It was my royal master sent me here;
And for that I my monarch do revere
         I wounded that man's nose."
[436] When the king heard this, he said, "We do great honour to men, and yet cannot make friends of them. Even though we make presents of such things as a whole village, we can find no one willing to give his life for us. But this creature, crow as he is, sacrifices life for his king. He is very noble, sweet-speaking, and good." He was so pleased with the crow's good qualities that he did him the honour of giving him a white umbrella. But the crow saluted the king with this, his own gift, and descanted upon the virtues of Fairwing. The king sent for him, and heard his teaching, and sent them both food of the same sort as he ate himself; and for the rest of the crows he had cooked each day a large measure of rice. He himself walked according to the monition of the Bodhisatta, and protecting all creatures, practised virtue. The admonitions of Fairwing the crow were remembered for seven hundred years.

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When the Master had ended this discourse, he identified the Birth: "At that time the king was Ānanda, the Captain was Sāriputta, but Supatta was I myself."

Footnotes

295:1 Folk-lore Journal, 3. 360.
295:2 No. 281, above.

No. 293.

KĀYA-VICCHINDA-JĀTAKA.

"Down smitten with a direful illness," etc.--This story the Master told at Jetavana about a certain man. We learn that there lived at Sāvatthi a man tormented by jaundice, given up by the doctors as a hopeless case. His wife and

son wondered who could be found to cure him. The man thought, "If I can only get rid of this disease, I will take to the religious life." Now it happened that some days after he took something that did him good, and got well. Then he went to Jetavana, and asked admission into the Order. He received the lesser and greater orders from the Master, and before long attained to sainthood. One day after this the brethren were talking together in the Hall of Truth: "Friend, So and so had jaundice, and vowed that if he got well he would embrace the religious life; he did so, and now he has attained sainthood." The Master came in, and asked what they talked about, sitting there together. [437] They told him. Then he said: "Brothers, this is not the only man who has done so. Long ago wise men, recovering from sickness, embraced a religious life, and secured their own advantage." And he told an old-world tale.

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Once upon a time, when Brahmadatta was king of Benares, the Bodhisatta was born in a Brahmin family. He grew up, and began to amass wealth: but he fell sick of the jaundice. Even the physicians could do nothing for him, and his wife and family were in despair. He resolved that if he ever got well, he would embrace the religious life; and having taken something that did him good, he did get well, whereupon he went away to Himalaya and became a religious. He cultivated the Faculties and the Attainments, and dwelt in ecstatic happiness. "All this time," thought he, "I have been without this great happiness!" and he breathed out this aspiration:

"Down smitten with a direful illness, I
In utter torment and affliction lie,
    My body quickly withers, like a flower
Laid in the sun upon the dust to dry.

"The noble seems ignoble, and pure the impure seems,
He that is blind, all beautiful a sink of foulness deems.

"Shame on that sickly body, shame, I say,
Loathsome, impure, and full of foul decay!
    When fools are indolent, they fail to win
New birth in heaven, and wander from the way."

[438] Thus did the Great Being describe in various ways the nature of impurity and constant disease, and being disgusted with the body and all its parts, cultivated all his life the four excellent conditions of life, till he went to Brahma's world.

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When the Master had ended this discourse, he proclaimed the Truths, and identified the Birth--many were they who attained the fruition of the First Path, and so forth--"At that time I myself was the ascetic."

 

Om Tat Sat
                                                        
(Continued...) 

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