THE JĀTAKA
OR
STORIES OF THE BUDDHA'S FORMER BIRTHS
No. 307.
PALĀSA-JĀTAKA. 1
[23] "Why, Brahmin, though," etc.—The Master, when he was stretched upon the bed of death, told this story of the Elder Ānanda.The venerable man, knowing that the Master on this very night at eventide would die, said to himself, "I am still under discipline and have duties to perform, and my Master is certainly going to die, and then the service I have rendered to him for five-and-twenty years will be fruitless." And so being overwhelmed with sorrow he leaned upon the monkey-head which formed the bolt of the garden store-room and burst into tears.
And the Master, missing Ānanda, asked the Brethren where he was, and on hearing what was the matter he sent for him and addressed him as follows: "Ānanda, thou hast laid up a store of merit. Continue to strive earnestly and thou wilt soon be free from human passion. Grieve not thyself. Wherefore should the service thou hast rendered me prove fruitless now, seeing that thy former services in the days of thy sinfulness were not without their reward?" Then he told a legend of the past.
And a certain poor brahmin thought, "I too will watch over some divinity." So he found a big Judas-tree growing on high ground, and by sprinkling gravel and sweeping all round it, he kept its root smooth and free from grass. Then he presented it with a scented wreath of five sprays and lighting a lamp made an offering of flowers and perfume and incense. And after a reverential salutation he said, "Peace be with thee," and then went his way. On the next day he came quite early and asked after its welfare. Now one day it occurred to the tree-sprite, "This brahmin is very attentive to me. I will test him and find out why he thus worships me, and grant him his desire." So when the brahmin came and was sweeping about the root of the tree, the spirit stood near him disguised as an aged brahmin and repeated the first stanza:
[24]
Why, brahmin, though thyself with
reason blest,
Hast thou this dull insensate tree addressed?
Vain is thy prayer, thy kindly greeting vain,
From this dull wood no answer wilt thou gain.
On hearing this the brahmin replied in a second stanza:Hast thou this dull insensate tree addressed?
Vain is thy prayer, thy kindly greeting vain,
From this dull wood no answer wilt thou gain.
Long on this spot a famous tree has
stood,
Meet dwelling-place for spirits of the wood;
With deepest awe such beings I revere,
They guard, methinks, some sacred treasure here.
The tree-sprite on hearing these words was so pleased with the
brahmin that he said, "O brahmin, I was born as the divinity of this tree.
Fear not. I will grant you this treasure." And to reassure him, by a great
manifestation of divine power, he stood suspended in the air at the entrance of
his celestial mansion, while he recited two more stanzas:Meet dwelling-place for spirits of the wood;
With deepest awe such beings I revere,
They guard, methinks, some sacred treasure here.
O brahmin, I have marked thy act of
love;
A pious deed can never fruitless prove.
Lo! where yon fig-tree casts its ample shade,
Due sacrifice and gifts of old were paid.
Beneath this fig a buried treasure lies,
The gold unearth, and claim it as thy prize.
[25] The spirit moreover added these words: "O brahmin, thou
wouldst be weary, if thou hadst to dig up the treasure and carry it away with
thee. Do thou therefore go thy way, and I will bring it to thy house and deposit
it in such and such a place. Then do thou enjoy it all thy life long, and give
alms and keep the moral law." And after thus admonishing the brahmin, the
tree-sprite, by an exercise of divine power, conveyed the treasure into the
brahmin's house.A pious deed can never fruitless prove.
Lo! where yon fig-tree casts its ample shade,
Due sacrifice and gifts of old were paid.
Beneath this fig a buried treasure lies,
The gold unearth, and claim it as thy prize.
Footnotes
15:1 See R. Morris, Folklore Journal, iii. 355.No. 308.
JAVASAKUṆA-JĀTAKA. 1
"Kindness as much," etc.—This story was told by the Master while dwelling at Jetavana, about the ingratitude of Devadatta.He ended it by saying, "Not only now, but in former days did Devadatta show ingratitude," and with these words he told a story of the past.
[26] Now a certain lion, while devouring his prey, had a bone stick in his throat. His throat swelled up so that he could not take any food and severe pains set in. Then this woodpecker, while intent on seeking its own food, as it was perched on a bough, saw the lion and asked him, saying, "Friend, what ails you?" He told him what was the matter, and the bird said, "I would take the bone out of your throat, friend, but I dare not put my head into your mouth, for fear you should eat me up."
"Do not be afraid, friend; I will not eat you up. Only save my life."
"All right," said the bird, and ordered the lion to lie down upon his side. Then it thought: "Who knows what this fellow will be about?" And to prevent his closing his mouth, it fixed a stick between his upper and lower jaw, and then putting its head into the lion's mouth, it struck the end of the bone with its beak. The bone fell out and disappeared. And then the woodpecker drew out its head from the lion's mouth, and with a blow from its beak knocked out the stick, and hopping off sat on the top of a bough.
The lion recovered from his sickness, and one day was devouring a wild buffalo which he had killed. Thought the woodpecker: "I will now put him to the test," and perching on a bough above the lion's head, it fell to conversing with him and uttered the first stanza:
Kindness as much as in us lay,
To thee, my lord, we once did show:
On us in turn, we humbly pray,
Do thou a trifling boon bestow.
To thee, my lord, we once did show:
On us in turn, we humbly pray,
Do thou a trifling boon bestow.
On hearing this the lion repeated the second stanza:
To trust thy head to a lion's jaw.
A creature red in tooth and claw,
To dare such a deed and be living still,
Is token enough of my good will.
The woodpecker on hearing this uttered two more stanzasA creature red in tooth and claw,
To dare such a deed and be living still,
Is token enough of my good will.
From the base ingrate hope not to obtain
The due requital of good service done; [27]
From bitter thought and angry word refrain,
But haste the presence of the wretch to shun.
With these words the woodpecker flew away.The due requital of good service done; [27]
From bitter thought and angry word refrain,
But haste the presence of the wretch to shun.
Footnotes
17:1 Compare Tibetan Tales, xxvii. p. 311: "The Ungrateful Lion."Æsop: "The Wolf and the Crane." Jātakamālā, No. 34: "The Woodpecker."No. 309.
CHAVAKA-JĀTAKA.
"Holy Teacher" etc.—The Master while residing at Jetavana told this story, about the Fraternity of Six Priests. It is related in detail in the Vinaya. 1 Here is a brief summary of it.The Master sent for the Six Priests and asked if it were true that they taught the law from a low seat 2, while their pupils sat on a higher seat. They confessed that it was so, and the Master in reproving these brethren for their want of respect for his law, said that wise men of old had to rebuke men for teaching even heretical doctrines while sitting on a low seat. Then he told them an old story.
"My dear," he said, "there are no mangoes at this season, I will bring you some other acid fruit."
"My lord," said she, "if I can have a mango, I shall live. Otherwise I shall die."
[28] He being infatuated about his wife thought, "Where in the world am I to get a mango?" Now at this time there was a mango tree in the garden of the king of Benares, which had fruit on it all the year round. So he thought, "I will get a ripe mango there to appease her longings." And going to the garden by night he climbed up the tree, and stepped from one branch to another, looking for the fruit, and while he was thus engaged, the day began to break. Thought he, "If I shall come down now to go away, I shall be seen and seized as a thief. I will wait till it is dark." So he climbed up into a fork of the tree and remained there, perched upon it.
Now at this time the king of Benares was being taught sacred texts by his chaplain. And coming into the garden he sat down on a high seat at the foot of the mango tree, and placing his teacher on a lower seat, he had a lesson from him. The Bodhisatta sitting above them thought, "How wicked this king is. He is learning the sacred texts, sitting on a high seat. The brahmin too is equally wicked, to sit and teach him from a lower seat. I also am wicked, for I have fallen into the power of a woman, and counting my life as nought, I am stealing the mango fruit." Then taking hold of a hanging bough, he let himself down from the tree, and stood before these two men and said, "O Great King, I am a lost man, and thou a gross fool, and this priest is as one dead." And being asked by the king what he meant by these words, he uttered the first stanza:—
Holy Teacher, Royal Scholar, lo! the
sinful deed I saw,
Both alike from grace are fallen, both alike transgressed the law. 1
[29] The brahmin, on hearing this, repeated the second stanza:—Both alike from grace are fallen, both alike transgressed the law. 1
My food is pure rice from the hill,
With a delicate flavour of meat,
For why should a sinner fulfil
A rule meant for saints, when they eat?
On hearing this the Bodhisatta recited two more stanzas:—With a delicate flavour of meat,
For why should a sinner fulfil
A rule meant for saints, when they eat?
Brahmin, go range the length and
breadth of earth;
Lo! suffering is found the common lot.
Here marred by sin thy ruined life is worth
Less than the fragments of a shattered pot.
Beware ambition and o’ermastering greed:
Vices like these to "Worlds of Suffering" lead.
Lo! suffering is found the common lot.
Here marred by sin thy ruined life is worth
Less than the fragments of a shattered pot.
Beware ambition and o’ermastering greed:
Vices like these to "Worlds of Suffering" lead.
[30] Then the king being pleased with his exposition of the law, asked him of what caste he was. "I am a pariah, my lord," he said. "Friend," he replied, "had you been of a high caste family, I would have made you sole king. But henceforth I will be king by day, and you shall be king by night." And with these words he placed upon his neck the wreath of flowers with which he himself was adorned, and made him lord protector over the city. And hence is derived the custom for the lords of the city to wear a wreath of red flowers on their neck. And from that day forward the king abiding in his admonition paid respect to his teacher, and learned sacred texts from him, sitting on a lower seat.
Footnotes
18:1 1 See Oldenberg's Vinaya, iv. 203. (Suttavibhñga, Sekhiya, 68, 69.)18:2 See Manu ii. 198 for the rule that the disciple must sit on a seat lower than his guru.
19:1 The Scholiast in his explanation adds this verse:
True faith of yore prevailed on earth,
False doctrine was a later birth.
False doctrine was a later birth.
No. 310.
SAYHA-JĀTAKA.
"No throne on earth," etc.—The Master told this story while in residence at Jetavana, about a backsliding brother, who in going his rounds for alms at Sāvatthi caught sight of a beautiful woman, and thenceforth had grown discontented and lost all pleasure in the Law. So the Brethren brought him before the Blessed One. Said the Blessed One, "Is it true, Brother, what I hear, that you are discontented?" He confessed it was so. The Master on learning the cause of his discontent said, "Why, Brother, are you longing for the world, after taking orders in a religion that leads to Salvation? Wise men of old when offered the dignity of family priest rejected it, and adopted the ascetic life." And he told them a story of the olden time.And when they were grown up, they went together to Takkasilā and as soon as they had attained proficiency in all the sciences they returned home.
The king made his son viceroy and bestowed great honour upon him. From that time the Bodhisatta ate, drank, and lived with the prince, and there was a firm friendship between them. By and bye at the death of his father, the young prince ascended the throne and enjoyed great prosperity. Thought the Bodhisatta: "My friend now rules the kingdom; when he sees a fitting opportunity, he will certainly give me the office of his family priest. What have I to do with a householder's life? I will become an ascetic and devote myself to solitude."
So he saluted his parents and having asked their permission to take orders, he gave up his worldly fortune and setting forth quite alone he entered the Himālaya country. There on a charming spot he built himself a hermitage, and adopting the religious life of an anchorite he developed all the Faculties and Attainments, and lived in the enjoyment of the pleasure of the mystic life.
At this time the king remembered him and said, "What has become of my friend? He is nowhere to be seen." His ministers told him he had taken orders, and was living, they heard, in some delightful grove. The king asked the place of his abode, and said to a councillor named Sayha, "Go and bring my friend back with you. I will make him my chaplain." Sayha readily assented, and going forth from Benares in course of time reached a frontier village and taking up his abode there, he went with some foresters to the place where the Bodhisatta dwelt and found him sitting like a golden statue at the door of his hut. After saluting him with the usual compliments he sat at a respectful distance and thus addressed him: "Reverend Sir, the king desires your return, being anxious to raise you to the dignity of his family priest." [32] The Bodhisatta replied, "If I were to receive not merely the post of chaplain but all Kāsi and Kosala, and the realm of India and the glory of a Universal Empire, I would refuse to go. The wise do not again take up the sins they have once abandoned any more than they would swallow the phlegm they have once raised." So saying he repeated these stanzas:—
1
No throne on earth should tempt me to
my shame,
No sea-girt realm, safe-guarded in the deep;
Accurséd be the lust of wealth and fame
That dooms poor man in "Suffering Worlds" to weep.
Better through earth a homeless waif to stray,No sea-girt realm, safe-guarded in the deep;
Accurséd be the lust of wealth and fame
That dooms poor man in "Suffering Worlds" to weep.
And bowl in hand to beg from door to door,
Than as a king, to sinful lusts a prey,
To bear a tyrant rule and vex the poor.
Thus did the Bodhisatta though again and again importuned by him reject his offer. And Sayha, being unable to prevail on him, saluted him, and returned and told the king of his refusal to come.
Footnotes
21:1 These stanzas occur again in Jātaka 433.No. 311.
PUCIMANDA-JĀTAKA.
"Robber, arise," etc.—The Master, while dwelling in the Bamboo-Grove, told this story about the venerable Moggallāna.When that elder was living near Rājagaha in a forest hut, a certain robber, after breaking into a house in a suburban village, fled with his hands full of plunder till he came within the precincts of the elder's cell, and thinking that he should be safe there he lay down at the entrance of his hut of leaves. The elder noticed him lying there and suspecting his character said to himself, "It would be wrong for me to have any dealings with a robber." So coming out of his hut he told him not to lie there, and drove him away.
The robber starting off fled with the greatest haste. And men with torches in their hands, following close upon the robber's track, came and saw the various spots marked by the presence of the robber and said, "It was this way the robber came. Here is where he stood. There he sat down. And that is the way he fled. He is not to be seen here." So they rushed about hither and thither, but at last had to return without finding him. On the next day early in the morning the elder went his round for alms in Rājagaha, and on coming back from his pilgrimage he went to the Bamboo-Grove and told the Master what had happened. The Master said, "You are not the only one, Moggallāna, to suspect in a case in which suspicion is justified. Wise men of old suspected in like manner." And at the request of the elder he told a story of bygone times.
Now in these days robbers that were caught were put to torture by being impaled on a stake of the Nimb-tree. So the spirit of the Nimb-tree thought: "If people should come and capture this robber, they will cut off a branch and make a stake from this Nimb-tree and impale him on it. And in that case the tree will be destroyed. So I will drive the fellow away." Then addressing him, he repeated the first stanza:—
Robber, arise! why sleepest thou? For
slumber ’tis no time,
The king's men are upon thee, the avengers of thy crime.
Moreover he added these words, "Get you gone, before the
king's men take you." Thus did he frighten the robber away. And no sooner
had he fled than the deity of the Bo-tree repeated the second stanza:—The king's men are upon thee, the avengers of thy crime.
And even if this robber bold red-handed
they should take,
To thee, O Nimb-tree, woodland sprite, what difference would it make?
The deity of the Nimb-tree on hearing this uttered the third
stanza:—To thee, O Nimb-tree, woodland sprite, what difference would it make?
O Bo-tree, sure thou knowest not the
secret of my fear;
I would not have the king's men find that wicked robber here.
They from my sacred tree, I know, straightway a branch would take,
And to requite the guilty wretch, impale him on a stake.
[35] And while the two sylvan deities were thus conversing
together, the owners of the property, following on the trail of the robber,
with torches in their hand, when they saw the place where he had been lying
down said, "Lo! the robber has just risen up and fled from this place. We
have not got him yet, but if we do, we will come back and either impale him at
the foot of this Nimb-tree, or hang him from one of its branches."I would not have the king's men find that wicked robber here.
They from my sacred tree, I know, straightway a branch would take,
And to requite the guilty wretch, impale him on a stake.
And with these words rushing about hither and thither, and not finding the robber, they made off. And on hearing what they said the spirit of the Bo-tree uttered the fourth stanza
Beware a danger yet unseen: suspect
before too late,
The wise e’en in this present world look to a future state.
The wise e’en in this present world look to a future state.
"At that time Sāriputta was the Spirit of the Bo-tree. I myself was the Nimb-tree Spirit."
No. 312.
KASSAPAMANDIYA-JĀTAKA.
[36] "Should foolish youth," etc.—This story the Master told while residing at Jetavana, about an aged Brother. A young nobleman at Sāvatthi, tradition says, from a sense of the evil consequences of sinful desires received ordination at the hands of the Master, and by devotion to the rite by which ecstasy may be induced, in no long time attained to Sainthood. By and bye on the death of his mother, he admitted his father and younger brother to orders, and they took up their abode at Jetavana.At the opening of the rainy season, hearing of a village retreat where the necessary robes were to be easily obtained 1, they all three entered upon the Vassa residence there, and when it was ended they returned straight to Jetavana. The youthful Brother, when they came to a spot not far from Jetavana, told the novice lad to bring on the old man quietly, while he himself pushed on ahead to Jetavana to get ready their cell. The old priest walked slowly on. The novice repeatedly butted him, as it were, with his head, and dragged him along by force, crying, "Come on, Master." The elder said, "You are pulling me along against my will," and turning back he made a fresh start from the beginning. As they were thus quarrelling, the sun went down and darkness set in. The young Brother meanwhile swept out his hut, set water in the pots, and not seeing them coming, he took a torch and went to meet them. When he saw them coming, he asked what made them so late. The old man gave the reason. So he made them rest and brought them slowly on their way. That day he found no time to pay his respects to the Buddha. So on the next day, when he had come to pay his respects to Buddha, after he had saluted him and taken his seat, the Master asked, "When did you arrive?" "Yesterday, Sir." "You came yesterday and pay your respects to me only to-day?" "Yes, Sir," he answered, and told him the reason. The Master rebuked the elder: "Not now only does he act like this. Of old too he did just the same. Now it is you that are annoyed by him. Formerly he annoyed wise men." And at the Brother's request he told an old story.
Now in the Himālaya, during the rainy season, when the rains are incessant, as it is impossible to dig up any bulb or root, or to get any wild fruits, and the leaves begin to fall, the ascetics for the most part come down from the Himālayas, and take up their abode amidst the haunts of men. And at this time the Bodhisatta, after living here with his father and younger brother, as soon as the Himālaya country began to blossom again and bear fruit, took his two companions and returned to his hermitage in the Himālayas. And at sunset when they were not far from his hut he left them, saying, "You can come on slowly, while I go forward and set the hermitage in order."
Now the young hermit coming on slowly with his father kept butting him in the waist with his head. The old man said, "I do not like the way in which you are taking me home." So he turned back and started afresh from the same point. And while they were thus quarrelling, darkness set in. But the Bodhisatta as soon as he had swept out his hut of leaves, and got ready some water, took a torch and returned on the way back, and when he found them he asked why they had taken such a long time. And the boy ascetic told him what his father had done. But the Bodhisatta brought them quietly home, and having stowed safely away all the Buddhist requisites, he gave his father a bath, and washed and anointed his feet and shampooed his back. Then he set out a pan of charcoal and when his father had recovered from his fatigue, he sat near him and said, "Father, young boys are just like earthen vessels: they are broken in a moment, [38] and when they are once broken, it is impossible to mend them again. Old men should bear with them patiently, when they are abusive." And for the admonition of his father Kassapa, he repeated these stanzas:—
Should foolish youth in word or deed
offend,
’Tis wisdom's part long-suffering to display;
Quarrels of good men find a speedy end,
Fools part asunder, like untempered clay.
Men wise to learn, of their own sins aware,’Tis wisdom's part long-suffering to display;
Quarrels of good men find a speedy end,
Fools part asunder, like untempered clay.
Friendship can prove, that suffers no decay;
Such are a brother's burden strong to bear,
And strife of neighbours skilful to allay.
[39] Thus did the Bodhisatta admonish his father. And he from that time forward exercised self-restraint.
Footnotes
24:1 Compare Mahāvagga, iii. 14.No. 313.
KHANTIVĀDI-JĀTAKA. 1
"Whoso cut of," etc.—This story the Master, while dwelling at Jetavana, told about a wrathful Brother. The incident that gave rise to the story has been already described. The Master asked that Brother, saying, "Why after taking orders under the dispensation of the Buddha who knows not what wrath is, do you show anger? Wise men in bygone days, though they suffered a thousand stripes, and had their hands and feet and ears and nose cut off, showed no anger against another." And he then told a story of the olden time.On the death of his parents, looking at his pile of treasure he thought: "My kinsmen who amassed this treasure are all gone without taking it with them: now it is for me to own it and in my turn to depart." Then he carefully selected persons, who by virtue of their almsgiving deserved it, and gave all his wealth to them, and entering the Himālaya country he adopted the ascetic life. There he dwelt a long time, living on wild fruits. And descending to the inhabited parts for the sake of procuring salt and vinegar he gradually made his way to Benares, where he took up his abode in the royal park. Next day he went his rounds in the city for alms, till he came to the door of the commander-in-chief. And he being pleased with the ascetic for the propriety of his deportment, brought him into the house [40] and fed him with the food prepared for himself. And having gained his consent he got him to take up his abode in the royal park.
Now one day king Kalābu being inflamed with strong drink came into the park in great pomp, surrounded by a company of dancers. Then he had a couch spread on the royal seat of stone, and lay with his head on the lap of a favourite of the harem, while the nautch girls who were skilful in vocal and instrumental music and in dancing provided a musical entertainment—So great was his magnificence, like to that of Sakka, Lord of heaven—And the king fell asleep. Then the women said, "He for whose sake we are providing music, is gone to sleep. What need is there for us to sing?" Then they cast aside their lutes and other musical instruments
hither and thither, and set out for the garden, where tempted on by the flowers and fruit-bearing shrubs they were soon disporting themselves.
At this moment the Bodhisatta was seated in this garden, like a royal elephant in the pride of his vigour, at the foot of a flowering Sāl tree, enjoying the bliss of retirement from the world. So these women in wandering about came upon him and said, "Come hither, ladies, and let us sit down and hear somewhat from the priest who is resting at the foot of this tree, until the king awakes." Then they went and saluted him and sitting in a circle round about him, they said, "Tell us something worth hearing." So the Bodhisatta preached the doctrine to them.
Meanwhile the royal favourite with a movement of her body woke up the king. And the king on waking up, and not seeing the women asked, "Where are those wretches gone?" "Your Highness," she said, "they are gone away and are sitting in attendance on a certain ascetic." The king in a rage seized his sword and went off in haste, saying, "I will give this false ascetic a lesson." Then those of the women that were most in favour, when they saw the king coming in a rage, went and took the sword from the king's hand and pacified him. Then he came and stood by the Bodhisatta and asked, "What doctrine are you preaching, Monk?" "The doctrine of patience, Your Majesty," he replied. "What is this patience?" said the king. "The not being angry, when men abuse you and strike you and revile you." Said the king, "I will see now the reality of your patience," [41] and he summoned his executioner. And he in the way of his office took an axe and a scourge of thorns, and clad in a yellow robe and wearing a red garland, came and saluted the king and said, "What is your pleasure, Sire?" "Take and drag off this vile rogue of an ascetic," said the king, "and throwing him on the ground, with your lash of thorns scourge him before and behind and on both sides, and give him two thousand stripes." This was done. And the Bodhisatta's outer and inner skins were cut through to the flesh, and the blood flowed. The king again asked, "What doctrine do you preach, Monk?" "The doctrine of patience, Your Highness," he replied. "You fancy that my patience is only skin deep. It is not skin deep, but is fixed deep within my heart, where it cannot be seen by you, Sire." Again the executioner asked, "What is your pleasure, Sire?" The king said, "Cut off both the hands of this false ascetic." So he took his axe, and placing the victim within the fatal circle, he cut off both his hands. Then the king said, "Off with his feet," and his feet were chopped off. And the blood flowed from the extremities of his hands and feet like lac juice from a leaking jar. Again the king asked what doctrine he preached. "The doctrine of patience, Your Highness," he replied. "You imagine, Sire, that my patience dwells in the extremities of my hands and feet. It is not there, but it is deep seated somewhere else." The king said, "Cut off his nose and ears." The
executioner did so. His whole body was now covered with blood. Again the king asked of his doctrine. And the asetic said, "Think not that my patience is seated in the tips of my nose and ears: my patience is deep seated within my heart." The king said, "Lie down, false Monk, and thence exalt your patience." And so saying, he struck the Bodhisatta above the heart with his foot, and betook himself off.
When he was gone, the commander-in-chief wiped off the blood from the body of the Bodhisatta, [42] putting bandages 1 on the extremities of his hands, feet, ears and nose, and then having gently placed him on a seat, he saluted him and sitting on one side he said, "If, Reverend Sir, you would be angry with one who has sinned against you, be angry with the king, but with no one else." And making this request, he repeated the first stanza:—
Whoso cut off thy nose and ear, and
lopped off foot and hand,
With him be wroth, heroic soul, but spare, we pray, this land.
The Bodhisatta on hearing this uttered the second stanza:—With him be wroth, heroic soul, but spare, we pray, this land.
Long live the king, whose cruel hand my
body thus has marred,
Pure souls like mine such deeds as these with anger ne’er regard.
And just as the king was leaving the garden and at the very moment
when be passed out of the range of the Bodhisatta's vision, the mighty earth
that is two hundred and forty thousand leagues in thickness split in two, like
unto a strong stout cloth garment, and a flame issuing forth from Avīci seized
upon the king, wrapping him up as it were with a royal robe of scarlet wool.
Thus did the king sink into the earth just by the garden gate and was firmly
fixed in the great Hell of Avīci. And the Bodhisatta died on that same day. And
the king's servants and the citizens came with perfumes and wreaths and incense
in their hands and performed the Bodhisatta's obsequies. And some said that the
Bodhisatta had gone straight back to the Himālayas. But in this they said the
thing that was not.Pure souls like mine such deeds as these with anger ne’er regard.
[43]
A saint of old, as men have told,
Great courage did display:
That saint so strong to suffer wrong
The Kāsi king did slay.
Alas! the debt of vain regretGreat courage did display:
That saint so strong to suffer wrong
The Kāsi king did slay.
That king will have to pay;
When doomed to dwell in lowest Hell,
Long will he rue the day.
These two stanzas were inspired by Perfect Wisdom.
The Master, his lesson ended, revealed the Truths and identified the Birth:—At the conclusion of the Truths the choleric Brother attained fruition of the Second Path, while many others attained fruition of the First Path:—"At that time Devadatta was Kalābu king of Kāsi, Sāriputta was the Commander-in-Chief, and I myself was the Ascetic, the Preacher of Patience."
Footnotes
26:1 See Jātakamālā, No. 28: "The Story of Kshāntivādin."28:1 Mahāvagga, vi. 14. 5.
No. 314.
LOHAKUMBHI-JĀTAKA. 1
"Due share of wealth," etc.—This story the Master, while living at Jetavana, told concerning a king of Kosala. The king of Kosala of those days, they say, one night heard a cry uttered by four inhabitants of Hell—the syllables du, sa, na, so, one from each of the four. In a previous existence, tradition says, they had been princes in Sāvatthi, and had been guilty of adultery. After misconducting themselves with their neighbours' wives, however carefully guarded they might be, and indulging their amorous propensities, their evil life had been cut short by the Wheel of Death, near Sāvatthi. They came to life again in Four Iron Cauldrons. After being tortured for sixty thousand years they had come up to the top, and on seeing the edge of the Cauldron's mouth they thought to themselves, "When shall we escape from this misery?" And then all four uttered a loud cry, one after another. The king was terrified to death at the noise, and sat waiting for break of day, unable to stir.At dawn the brahmins came and inquired after his health. The king replied, "How, my Masters, can I be well, [44] who to-day have heard four such terrible cries." The brahmins waved their hands. 2 "What is it, my Masters?" said the king. The brahmins assure him that the sounds are ominous of great violence. "Do they admit of remedy, or not?" said the king. "You might say not," said the brahmins, "but we are well-trained in these matters, Sire." "By what means," said the king, "will you avert these evils?" "Sire," they replied, "there is one great remedy in our power, and by offering the fourfold sacrifice 3 of every living creature we will avert all evil." "Then be quick," said the king, "and take all living creatures by fours—men, bulls, horses, elephants, down to quails and other birds—and by this fourfold sacrifice restore my peace of mind." The brahmins consented, and taking whatever they required, they dug a sacrificial pit and fastened their numerous victims to their stakes, and were highly excited at the thought of the dainties they were to eat, and the wealth they would gain, and went about backwards and forwards, saying, "Sir, I must have so and so."
The queen Mallikā came and asked the king, why the brahmins went about so delighted and smiling. The king said, "My queen, what have you to do with this? You are intoxicated with your own glory, and you do not know how wretched I am." "How so, Sire?" she replied. "I have heard such awful noises, my queen, and when I asked the brahmins what would be the result of
my hearing these cries, they told me I was threatened with danger to my kingdom or my property or my life, but by offering the fourfold sacrifice they would restore my peace of mind, and now in obedience to my command, they have dug a sacrificial pit and are gone to fetch whatever victims they require." The queen said, "Have you, my lord, consulted the chief brahmin in the Deva-world as to the origin of these cries?" "Who, lady," said the king, "is the chief brahmin in the Deva-world?" "The Great Gotama," she replied, "the Supreme Buddha." "Lady," he said, "I have not consulted the Supreme Buddha." "Then go," she answered, "and consult him."
The king hearkened to the words of the queen and after his morning meal he mounted his state chariot and drove to Jetavana. Here after saluting the Master he thus addressed him: "Reverend Sir, in the night season I heard four cries and consulted the brahmins about it. [45] They undertook to restore my peace of mind, by the fourfold sacrifice of every kind of victim, and are now busy preparing a sacrificial pit. What does the hearing of these cries betoken to me?"
"Nothing whatever," said the Master. "Certain beings in Hell, owing to the agony they suffer, cried aloud. These cries," he added, "have not been heard by you alone. Kings of old heard the same. And when they too, after consulting their brahmins, were anxious to offer sacrifices of slain victims, on hearing what wise men had to say, they refused to do so. The wise men explained to them the nature of these cries, and bade them let loose the crowd of victims and thus restored their peace of mind." And at the request of the king he told a story of bygone days.
The king of Benares at this time was fearfully alarmed by hearing those four sounds uttered by four beings who dwelt in Hell. And when told by brahmins in exactly the same way that one of three dangers must befall him, he agreed to their proposal to put a stop to it by the fourfold sacrifice. The family priest with the help of the brahmins provided a sacrificial pit, and a great crowd of victims was brought up and fastened to the stakes. Then the Bodhisatta, guided by a feeling of charity, regarding the world with his divine eye, when he saw what was going on, said, "I must go at once and see to the well-being of all these creatures." And then by his magic power flying up into the air, he alighted in the garden of the king of Benares, and sat down on the royal slab of stone, looking like an image of gold. The chief disciple of the family priest approached his teacher and asked, "Is it not written, Master, in our Vedas that there is no happiness for those who take the life of any creature?" The priest replied, "You are to bring here the king's property, and we shall have abundant dainties to eat. Only hold your peace." And with these words he drove his pupil away. [46] But the youth thought,
"I will have no part in this matter," and went and found the Bodhisatta in the king's garden. After saluting him in a friendly manner he took a seat at a respectful distance. The Bodhisatta asked him saying, "Young man, does the king rule his kingdom righteously?" "Yes, Reverend Sir, he does," answered the youth, "but he has heard four cries in the night, and on inquiring of the brahmins, he has been assured by them that they would restore his peace of mind, by offering up the fourfold sacrifice. So the king, being anxious to recover his happiness, is preparing a sacrifice of animals, and a vast number of victims has been brought up and fastened to the sacrificial stakes. Now is it not right for holy men like yourself to explain the cause of these noises, and to rescue these numerous victims from the jaws of death?" "Young man," he replied, "the king does not know us, nor do we know the king, but we do know the origin of these cries, and if the king were to come and ask us the cause, we would resolve his doubts for him." "Then," said the youth, "just stay here a moment, Reverend Sir, and I will conduct the king to you."
The Bodhisatta agreed, and the youth went and told the king all about it, and brought him back with him. The king saluted the Bodhisatta and sitting on one side asked him if it were true that he knew the origin of these noises. "Yes, Your Majesty," he said. "Then tell me, Reverend Sir." "Sire," he answered, "these men in a former existence were guilty of gross misconduct with the carefully guarded wives of their neighbours near Benares, and therefore were re-born in Four Iron Cauldrons. Where after being tortured for thirty thousand years in a thick corrosive liquid heated to boiling point, they would at one time sink till they struck the bottom of the cauldron, and at another time rise to the top like a foam bubble 1, but after those years they found the mouth of the cauldron, and looking over the edge they all four desired to give utterance to four complete stanzas, but failed to do so. And after getting out just one syllable each, they sank again in the iron cauldrons. [47] Now the one of them that sank after uttering the syllable "du" was anxious to speak as follows:—
Due
share of wealth we gave not; an evil life we led:
We found no sure salvation in joys that now are fled.
And when he failed to utter it, the Bodhisatta of his own
knowledge repeated the complete stanza. And similarly with the rest. The one
that uttered merely the syllable "sa" wanted to repeat the
following stanza:—We found no sure salvation in joys that now are fled.
Sad
fate of those that suffer! ah! when shall come release?
Still after countless æons, Hell's tortures never cease.
Still after countless æons, Hell's tortures never cease.
And again in the case of the one that uttered the syllable "na," this was the stanza he wished to repeat:—
Nay
endless are the sufferings to which we're doomed by fate;
The ills we wrought upon the earth ’tis ours to expiate.
And the one that uttered the syllable "so" was
anxious to repeat the following:—The ills we wrought upon the earth ’tis ours to expiate.
Soon
shall I passing forth from hence, attain to human birth,
And richly dowered with virtue rise to many a deed of worth.
[48] The Bodhisatta, after reciting these verses one by one, said,
"The dweller in Hell, Sire, when he wanted to utter a complete stanza,
through the greatness of his sin, was unable to do it. And when he thus
experienced the result of his wrong-doing he cried aloud. But fear not; no
danger shall come nigh you, in consequence of hearing this cry." Thus did
he reassure the king. And the king proclaimed by beat of his golden drum that
the vast host of victims was to be released, and the sacrificial pit destroyed.
And the Bodhisatta, after thus providing for the safety of the numerous victims,
stayed there a few days, and then returning to the same place, without any
break in his ecstasy, was born in the world of Brahma.And richly dowered with virtue rise to many a deed of worth.
Footnotes
29:1 Compare Buddhaghosha's Parables, No. 15: "Story of the Four Thuthe's Sons." King Pasenadīkosala in this story was meditating the sin of David against Uriah the Hittite, and was deterred from his purpose by the awful vision related in this Jātaka. See also Turnour's Maháwanso, i. IV. 18. A king in a dream sees his soul cast into the Lohakumbhī Hell.29:2 Possibly to avert the evil omen.
29:3 See Colebrooke's Essays, i. 348.
31:1 See Milindapañha, 357.
No. 315.
MAṀSA-JĀTAKA. 1
"For one who is asking," etc.—This was a story told by the Master, while living at Jetavana, as to how the Elder Sāriputta procured dainty fare for some sick Brothers under medical treatment. The story goes that certain of the Brethren at that time at Jetavana, after taking oil as a purgative, wished for some dainty food. Those who ministered to them in their sickness went into Sāvatthi to fetch some dainties, but after going their round for alms in a street in the Cooks' quarters, had to come back without getting what they wanted. Later on in the day the Elder was going into the town for alms and meeting these Brethren asked them why they had returned so soon. They told himwhat had happened. "Come then with me," said the Elder, [49] and took them to the very same street. And the people there gave him a full measure of dainty fare. The attendants brought the food to the sick Brethren, and they partook of it. So one day a discussion was started in the Hall of Truth how that when some servants were leaving a town, without being able to get dainty fare for their sick masters, the Elder took them with him on his round for alms in a street in the Cooks' quarters, and sent them home with abundant dainties. The Master came up and inquired the nature of their discussion, and on being told what it was he said, "Not now only, Brethren, did Sāriputta alone obtain food. Formerly also wise men who had a soft voice and knew how to speak pleasantly obtained the same." And then he told a tale of the olden time.
Now one day a certain deer-stalker had taken venison, and filling his cart with the meat, returned to the city with the intention of selling it. At this time four sons of rich merchants who were living in Benares sallied out of the city, and meeting at some cross roads they sat down and conversed with one another about whatever they had seen or heard. One of these youths on seeing the cart full of meat proposed to go and get a piece of venison from the hunter. The others bade him go and try. So he went up to the hunter, and said, "Hi, Sirrah, give me a piece of meat." The hunter replied, "A man who begs somewhat from another ought to speak with a gentle voice: you shall receive a piece of meat appropriate to your manner of speech." Then he uttered the first stanza:—
For one who is asking a favour, my friend, thy language is coarse in its tone,
Such language deserves coarse fare in return, so I offer thee mere skin and bone.
Then one of his companions asked him what language he had used in begging for a piece of meat. "I said, Hi, Sirrah!" he replied. "I too," said the other, "will beg of him." [50] Then he went to the hunter and said, "O elder brother, give me a piece of venison." The hunter answered, "You shall receive such a piece as the words you have spoken deserve," and he repeated the second stanza:—
The name of a brother a strong link is found, to join those akin to each other,
As thy kind words suggest the gift I should make, so a joint I present to my brother.
And with these words he took up and threw him a joint of venison. Then a third youth inquired with what words the last had begged for the meat. "I addressed him as brother," he replied. "Then I too will beg of him," he said. So he went to the hunter and cried, "Dear father, give me a piece of venison." The hunter replied, "You shall receive a
piece suitable to the words you have spoken," and he repeated the third stanza:—
As a parent's fond heart to pity is moved, the cry of "Dear father" to hear,
So I too respond to thy loving appeal, and give thee the heart of the deer.
And with these words he picked up and gave him a savoury piece of meat, heart and all. Then the fourth of the youths asked the third youth, with what words he had asked for the venison. "Oh I called him "Dear father," he answered. "Then I too will beg a piece," said the other, and he went to the hunter and said, "My friend, give me a piece of meat." Said the hunter, "According to the words you have spoken, shall you receive." And he repeated the fourth stanza:—
A world without friends, I venture to think, a wilderness surely must be,
In that title of friend all that's dear is implied, so I give all the deer unto thee.
Moreover he said, "Come, friend, I will convey all this cartful of meat to your house." [51] So this merchant's son had the cart driven to his house, and he went and unloaded the meat. And he treated the hunter with great hospitality and respect, and sending for his wife and son he took him away from his cruel occupation, and settled him on his own estate. And they became inseparable friends, and all their life long lived amicably together.
Footnotes
32:1 See R. Morris, Folklore Journal, iii. 242.No. 316.
SASA-JĀTAKA. 1
"Seven red fish," etc.—This story was told by the Master while living at Jetavana, about a gift of all the Buddhist requisites. A certain landowner at Sāvatthi, they say, provided all the requisites for the Brotherhood with Buddha at its head, and setting up a pavilion at his house door, he invited all thecompany of priests with their chief Buddha, seated them on elegant seats prepared for them, and offered them a variety of choice and dainty food. And saying, "Come again to-morrow," he entertained them for a whole week, and on the seventh day he presented Buddha and the five hundred priests under him with all the requisites. At the end of the feast the Master, in returning thanks, said, "Lay Brother, you are right in giving pleasure and satisfaction by this charity. For this is a tradition of wise men of old, who sacrificed their lives for any beggars they met with, and gave them even their own flesh to eat." And at the request of his host he related this old-world legend.
And so in the course of time the Bodhisatta one day observing the sky, and looking at the moon knew that the next day would be a fast-day, and addressing his three companions he said, "To-morrow is a fast-day. Let all three of you take upon you the moral precepts, and observe the holy day. To one that stands fast in moral practice, almsgiving brings a great reward. Therefore feed any beggars that come to you by giving them food from your own table." They readily assented, and abode each in his own place of dwelling.
On the morrow quite early in the morning, the otter sallied forth to seek his prey and went down to the bank of the Ganges. Now it came to pass that a fisherman had landed seven red fish, and stringing them together on a withe, he had taken and buried them in the sand on the river's bank. And then he dropped down the stream, catching more fish. The otter scenting the buried fish, dug up the sand till he came upon them, and pulling them out cried aloud thrice, "Does any one own these fish?" And not seeing any owner he took hold of the withe with his teeth and laid the fish in the jungle where he dwelt, intending to eat them at a fitting time. And then he lay down, thinking how virtuous he was! The jackal too sallied forth in quest of food and found in the hut of a field-watcher two spits, a lizard and a pot of milk-curd. And after thrice crying aloud, "To whom do these belong?" and not finding an owner, he put on his neck the rope for lifting the pot, and grasping the spits and the
lizard with his teeth, he brought and laid them in his own lair, thinking, "In due season I will devour them," and so lay down, [53] reflecting how virtuous he had been.
The monkey also entered the clump of trees, and gathering a bunch of mangoes laid them up in his part of the jungle, meaning to eat them in due season, and then lay down, thinking how virtuous he was. But the Bodhisatta in due time came out, intending to browse on the kuça grass, and as he lay in the jungle, the thought occurred to him, "It is impossible for me to offer grass to any beggars that may chance to appear, and I have no oil or rice and such like. If any beggar shall appeal to me, I shall have to give him my own flesh to eat." At this splendid display of virtue, Sakka's white marble throne manifested signs of heat. Sakka on reflection discovered the cause and resolved to put this royal hare to the test. First of all he went and stood by the otter's dwelling-place, disguised as a brahmin, and being asked why he stood there, he replied, "Wise Sir, if I could get something to eat, after keeping the fast, I would perform all my priestly duties." The otter replied, "Very well, I will give you some food," and as he conversed with him he repeated the first stanza:—
Seven red fish I safely brought to land
from Ganges flood,
O brahmin, eat thy fill, I pray, and stay within this wood.
The brahmin said, "Let be till to-morrow. I will see to it by
and bye." Next he went to the jackal, and when asked by him why he stood
there, he made the same answer. The jackal, too, readily promised him some
food, and in talking with him repeated the second stanza:—O brahmin, eat thy fill, I pray, and stay within this wood.
[54]
A lizard and a jar of curds, the
keeper's evening meal,
Two spits to roast the flesh withal I wrongfully did steal:
Such as I have I give to thee: O brahmin, eat, I pray,
If thou shouldst deign within this wood a while with us to stay.
Said the brahmin, "Let be till to-morrow. I will see to it by
and bye." Then he went to the monkey, and when asked what he meant by
standing there, he answered just as before. The monkey readily offered him some
food, and in conversing with him gave utterance to the third stanza:—Two spits to roast the flesh withal I wrongfully did steal:
Such as I have I give to thee: O brahmin, eat, I pray,
If thou shouldst deign within this wood a while with us to stay.
An icy stream, a mango ripe, and
pleasant greenwood shade,
’Tis thine to enjoy, if thou canst dwell content in forest glade.
Said the brahmin, "Let be till to-morrow. I will see to it by
and bye." And he went to the wise bare, and on being asked by him why he
stood there, he made the same reply. The Bodhisatta on hearing what he wanted
was highly delighted, and said, "Brahmin, you have done well in coming to
me for food. This day will I grant you a boon that I have never granted before,
but you shall not break the moral law by taking’Tis thine to enjoy, if thou canst dwell content in forest glade.
animal life. Go, friend, and when you have piled together logs of wood, and kindled a fire, come and let me know, [55] and I will sacrifice myself by falling into the midst of the flames, and when my body is roasted, you shall eat my flesh and fulfil all your priestly duties." And in thus addressing him the hare uttered the fourth stanza:—
Nor sesame, nor beans, nor rice have I
as food to give,
But roast with fire my flesh I yield, if thou with us wouldst live.
Sakka, on hearing what he said, by his miraculous power caused a
heap of burning coals to appear, and came and told the Bodhisatta. Rising from
his bed of kuça grass and coming to the place, he thrice shook himself that if
there were any insects within his coat, they might escape death. Then offering
his whole body as a free gift he sprang up, and like a royal swan, alighting on
a cluster of lotuses, in an ecstasy of joy he fell on the heap of live coals.
But the flame failed even to heat the pores of the hair on the body of the
Bodhisatta, and it was as if he had entered a region of frost. Then he
addressed Sakka in these words: "Brahmin, the fire you have kindled is
icy-cold: it fails to beat even the pores of the hair on my body. What is the
meaning of this?" "Wise sir," he replied, "I am no brahmin.
I am Sakka, and I have come to put your virtue to the test." The
Bodhisatta said, "If not only thou, Sakka, but all the inhabitants of the
world were to try me in this matter of almsgiving, they would not find in me
any unwillingness to give," and with this the Bodhisatta uttered a cry of
exultation like a lion roaring. Then said Sakka to the Bodhisatta, "O wise
hare, he thy virtue known throughout a whole won." And squeezing the
mountain, with the essence thus extracted, he daubed the sign of a hare on the
orb of the moon. And after depositing the hare on a bed of young kuça grass, in
the same wooded part of the jungle, Sakka returned to his own place in heaven.
[56] And these four wise creatures dwelt happily and harmoniously together,
fulfilling the moral law and observing holy days, till they departed to fare
according to their deeds.But roast with fire my flesh I yield, if thou with us wouldst live.
Footnotes
34:1 See R. Morris, Folk-Lore Journal, ii. 336 and 370. Jātakamālā, No. 6. On the wide-spread prevalence of the legend of the Hare in the Moon, see T. Harley's Moon-Lore, p. 60.No. 317.
MATARODANA-JĀTAKA.
"Weep for the living," etc.—The Master while in residence at Jetavana told this story of a certain landowner who dwelt at Sāvatthi.On the death of his brother, it is said, he was so overwhelmed with grief that he neither ate nor washed nor anointed himself, but in deep affliction he used to go to the cemetery at daybreak to weep. The Master, early in the morning casting his eye upon the world and observing in that man a capacity for attaining to the fruition of the First Path, thought, "There is no one but myself that can, by telling him what happened long ago, assuage his grief and bring him to the fruition of the First Path. I must be his Refuge." So next day on returning in the afternoon from his round of alms-begging, he took a junior priest and went to his house. On hearing of the Master's arrival, the landowner ordered a seat to be prepared and bade him enter, and saluting him he sat on one side. In answer to the Master, who asked him why he was grieving, he said he had been sorrowing ever since his brother's death. Said the Master, "All compound existences are impermanent, and what is to be broken is broken. One ought not to make a trouble of this. Wise men of old, from knowing this, did not grieve, when their brother died." And at his request the Master related this legend of the past.
Conditions, weep and lament, why should I weep?" And so saying, he repeated these stanzas:—
Weep for the living rather than the
dead!
All creatures that a mortal form do take,
Four-footed beast and bird and hooded snake,
Yea men and angels all the same path tread.
Powerless to cope with fate, rejoiced to die,All creatures that a mortal form do take,
Four-footed beast and bird and hooded snake,
Yea men and angels all the same path tread.
Midst sad vicissitude of bliss and pain,
Why shedding idle tears should man complain,
And plunged in sorrow for a brother sigh?
Men versed in fraud and in excess grown old,
The untutored fool, e’en valiant men of might,
If worldly-wise and ignorant of right,
Wisdom itself as foolishness may hold.
[58] Thus did the Bodhisatta teach these men the Truth, and delivered them all from their sorrow.
No. 318.
KANAVERA-JĀTAKA.
"’Twas the joyous time," etc.—This was a story told by the Master at Jetavana, about a Brother who was tempted by thoughts of the wife he had left.—The circumstances that led up to the story will be set forth in the Indriya Birth. 1—The Master, addressing this Brother, said, "Once before, through her, you had your head cut off." And then he related a legend of the past.gained his living by robbery, and his fame was blazed abroad in the world, as a bold fellow and as strong as an elephant. And no man could catch him. One day he broke into a rich merchant's house and carried off much treasure. The townsfolk came to the king and said, "Sire, a mighty robber is plundering the city: have him arrested." The king ordered the governor of the city to seize him. So in the night the governor posted men here and there in detachments, and having effected his capture with the money upon him, he reported it to the king. The king bade the governor cut off his head. Then the governor had his arms tightly bound behind him, and having tied a wreath of red kaṇavera flowers about his neck and sprinkled brickdust on his head, had him scourged with whips in every square, and then led to the place of execution to the music of the harsh-sounding drum. Men said, "This rapacious robber who loots our city is taken," and the whole city was greatly moved.
At this time there lived in Benares a courtezan named Sāmā, whose price was a thousand pieces of money. She was a favourite of the king's, and had a suite of five hundred female slaves. And as she stood at an open window on the upper floor of the palace, she saw this robber being led along. Now he was comely and gracious to look upon, and stood forth above all men, exceedingly glorious and god-like in appearance. And when she saw him being thus led past, she fell in love with him and thought within herself, "By what device can I secure this man for my husband? " " This is the way," she said, and sent by the hand of one of her female attendants a thousand pieces of money to the governor, and "Tell him," she said, "this robber is Sāmā's brother, and he has no other refuge except in Sāmā. And ask him to accept the money and let his prisoner escape." [60] The handmaid did as she was told. But the governor said, "This is a notorious robber, I cannot let him go free after this sort. But if I could find another man as a substitute, I could put the robber in a covered carriage and send him to you." The slave came and reported this to her mistress.
Now at this time a certain rich young merchant, who was enamoured of Sāmā, presented her every day with a thousand pieces of money. And that very day at sunset her lover came as usual to her house with the money. And Sāmā took the money and placed it in her lap and sat weeping. And when she was asked what was the cause of her sorrow, she said, "My lord, this robber is my brother, though he never came to see me, because people say I follow a vile trade: when I sent a message to the governor he sent word that if he were to receive a thousand pieces of money, he would let his prisoner go free. And now I cannot find any one to go and take this money to the governor." The youth for the love he bare her said, "I will go." "Go, then," said she, "and take with you the money you brought me." So he took it and went to the house of the governor.
The governor hid the young merchant in a secret place, and had the robber conveyed in a close carriage to Sāmā. Then he thought, "This robber is well known in the country. It must be quite dark first. And then, when all men are retired to rest, I will have the man executed." And so making some excuse for delaying it awhile, when people had retired to rest, he sent the young merchant with a large escort to the place of execution, and cutting off his head with a sword impaled his body, and returned into the city.
Thenceforth Sāmā accepted nought at any other man's hand, but passed all her time, taking her pleasure with this robber only. The thought occurred to the robber: "If this woman should fall in love with any one else, she will have me too put to death, and take her pleasure with him. She is very treacherous to her friends. I must no longer dwell here, but make haste to escape." When he was going away, [61] he thought, "I will not go empty-handed, but will take some of the ornaments belonging to her." So one day he said to her, "My dear, we always stay indoors like tame cockatoos in a cage. Some day we will disport ourselves in the garden." She readily assented and prepared every kind of food, hard and soft, and decked herself out with all her ornaments, and drove to the garden with him seated in a close carriage. While he was disporting himself with her, he thought, "Now must be the time for me to escape." So under a show of violent affection for her, he entered into a thicket of kaṇavera bushes, and pretending to embrace her, he squeezed her till she became insensible. Then throwing her down he spoiled her of all her ornaments, and fastening them in her outer garment he placed the bundle on his shoulder, and leaping over the garden wall made off.
And when she had recovered consciousness, rising up she went and asked her attendants, what had become of her young lord. "We do not know, lady." "He thinks," she said, "I am dead, and must in his alarm have run away." And being distressed at the thought, she returned thence to her house, and said, "Not till I have set eyes on my dear lord, will I rest upon a sumptuous couch," and she lay down upon the ground. And from that day she neither put on comely garments, nor ate more than one meal, nor affected scents and wreaths and the like. And being resolved to seek and recover her lover by every possible means, she sent for some actors and gave them a thousand pieces of money. On their asking, "What are we to do for this, lady?" She said, "There is no place that you do not visit. Go then to every village, town and city, and gathering a crowd around you, first of all sing this song in the midst of the people,"—teaching the actors the first stanza,—"And if," said she, "when you have sung this song, my husband shall be one of the crowd, he will speak to you. [62] Then you may tell him I am quite well, and bring him back with you. And should he refuse to come, send me a message."
And giving them their expenses for the journey, she sent them off. They started from Benares, and calling the people together here and there, at last arrived at a border-village. Now the robber, since his flight, was living here. And the actors gathered a crowd about them, and sang the first stanza:—
’Twas the joyous time of spring,
Bright with flowers each shrub and tree,
From her swoon awakening
Sāmā lives, and lives for thee.
The robber on hearing this drew nigh to the actor, and said,
"You say that Sāmā is alive, but I do not believe it." And addressing
him he repeated the second stanza:Bright with flowers each shrub and tree,
From her swoon awakening
Sāmā lives, and lives for thee.
Can fierce winds a mountain shake?
Can they make firm earth to quake?
But alive the dead to see
Marvel stranger far would be!
[63] The actor on hearing these words uttered the third stanza:Can they make firm earth to quake?
But alive the dead to see
Marvel stranger far would be!
Sāmā surely is not dead,
Nor another lord would wed.
Fasting from all meals but one,
She loves thee and thee alone.
The robber on hearing this said, "Whether she be alive or
dead, I don't want her," and with these words he repeated the fourth
stanza:Nor another lord would wed.
Fasting from all meals but one,
She loves thee and thee alone.
Sāmā's fancy ever roves
From tried faith to lighter loves:
Me too Sāmā would betray,
Were I not to flee away.
The actors came and told Sāmā how he had dealt with them. And she,
full of regrets, took once more to her old course of life.From tried faith to lighter loves:
Me too Sāmā would betray,
Were I not to flee away.
Footnotes
39:1 No. 423.
Om Tat Sat
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