THE JĀTAKA
OR
STORIES OF THE BUDDHA'S FORMER BIRTHS
No. 319.
TITTIRA-JĀTAKA.
[64] "Happy life," etc.—This was a story told by the Master while living in the Badarika Monastery near Kosambī, regarding the elder Rāhula. The introductory story has been already related in full in the Tipallattha Birth. 1 Now when the Brethren in the Hall of Truth were setting forth the praises of the venerable Rāhula, and speaking of him as fond of instruction, scrupulous and patient of rebuke, the Master came up and on hearing from them the subject of their discourse said, "Not now only, but formerly also Rāhula possessed all these virtues." And then he told them a legend of the past.At this time a fowler in this village had caught a decoy partridge, and putting it in a cage carefully trained and looked after it. Then he took it to the wood, and by its cry decoyed all the other partridges that came near. The partridge thought: "Through me many of my kinsfolk come by their death. This is a wicked act on my part." So it kept quiet. When its master found it was quiet, he struck it on the head with a piece of bamboo. The partridge from the pain it suffered uttered a cry. And the fowler gained a living by decoying other partridges through it. Then the partridge thought: "Well, suppose they die. There is no evil intention on my part. Do the evil consequences of my action affect me? When I am quiet, they do not come, but when I utter a cry, they do. And all that come this fellow catches and puts to death. Is there any sinful act here on my part, or is there not?" Thenceforth the only thought of the partridge is, "Who verily may resolve my doubt?" [65] and it goes about seeking for such a wise man. Now one day the fowler snared a lot of partridges, and filling his basket with them he came to the Bodhisatta's hermitage to beg a draught of water. And putting down the cage near the Bodhisatta, he drank some water and lay down on the sand and fell
asleep. The partridge observing that he was asleep thought, "I will ask this ascetic as to my doubt, and if he knows he will solve my difficulty." And as it lay in its cage, it repeated the first stanza in the form of a question:
Happy life I lead all day,
Food abundant falls to me:
Yet I'm in a parlous way,
What's my future state to be?
The Bodhisatta solving this question uttered the second stanza:Food abundant falls to me:
Yet I'm in a parlous way,
What's my future state to be?
If no evil in thy heart
Prompts to deed of villainy,
Shouldst thou play a passive part,
Guilt attaches not to thee.
The partridge on hearing this uttered the third stanza:Prompts to deed of villainy,
Shouldst thou play a passive part,
Guilt attaches not to thee.
"Lo! our kinsman": thus they
cry,
And in crowds they flock to see.
Am I guilty, should they die?
Please resolve this doubt for me.
[66] On hearing this, the Bodhisatta repeated the fourth stanza:And in crowds they flock to see.
Am I guilty, should they die?
Please resolve this doubt for me.
If no sin lurks in the heart,
Innocent the deed will be.
He who plays a passive part
From all guilt is counted free.
Thus did the Great Being console the partridge. And through him
the bird was freed from remorse. Then the fowler waking up saluted the
Bodhisatta and took up his cage and made off.Innocent the deed will be.
He who plays a passive part
From all guilt is counted free.
Footnotes
43:1 No. 16, Vol. i.No. 320.
SUCCAJA-JĀTAKA.
"He might give," etc.—This story was told by the Master, while residing at Jetavana, with regard to a certain landowner. According to the story he went to a village with his wife to get in a debt, and seizing a cart in satisfaction for what was due to him he deposited it with a certain family, intending to fetch itlater on. While on the road to Sāvatthi, they came in sight of a mountain. The wife asked him, "Suppose this mountain were to become all gold, would you give me some of it?" "Who are you?" he replied, "I would not give you a jot." "Alas!" she cried, "he is a hard-hearted man. Though the mountain should become pure gold, he would not give me an atom." And she was highly displeased.
When they drew nigh to Jetavana, feeling thirsty, they went into the monastery, and had some water to drink. [67] At daybreak the Master seeing in them a capacity for Salvation, sat in a cell of his Perfumed Chamber, looking out for their arrival, and emitted the six-coloured rays of Buddhahood. And after they had quenched their thirst, they came to the Master and respectfully saluting him sat down. The Master, after the usual kindly greetings, asked them where they had been. "We have been, Reverend Sir, to call in a debt." "Lay Sister," he said, "I hope your husband is anxious for your good and ready to do you a kindness." "Reverend Sir," she replied, "I am very affectionate to him, but he has no love for me. To-day when I asked him, on catching sight of a mountain, "Supposing it were all pure gold, would you give me some?" he answered, "Who are you? I would not give you a jot." So hard-hearted is he." "Lay Sister," said the Master, "he talks like this. But whenever he calls to mind your virtues he is ready to give you lordship over all." "Tell us about it, your Reverence," they cried, and at their request he related this legend of the past.
On reaching Benares he was established on the throne and raised her to the dignity of chief queen. He merely gave her titular rank, but beyond this he paid her no respect or honour, and did not even recognize her existence. Thought the Bodhisatta, "This queen was helpmeet to the king, not counting the pain, and dwelt with him in the wilderness. But he, taking no count of this, goes about, taking his pleasure with other women. But I will bring it about that she shall receive lordship over
all." And with this thought he went one day and saluting her said, "Lady, we do not receive from you so much as a lump of rice. Why are you so hard-hearted, and why do you thus neglect us?" "Friend," she replied, "if I myself were to receive aught, I would give it you, but if I get nothing, what am I to give? What, pray, is the king likely to give me? On the road here, when asked, "If yonder mountain were all pure gold, would you give me anything?" he answered, "Who are you? I would give you nothing." "Well, could you repeat all this before the king?" he said. "Why should I not, friend?" she answered. "Then when I stand in the king's presence," he said, "I will ask and you shall repeat it." "Agreed, friend," she said. So the Bodhisatta, when he stood and paid his respects to the king, asked the queen, saying, "Are we not, lady, to receive aught at your hands?" "Sir," she answered, "when I get anything, I will give you something. But, pray, what is the king likely to give me now? When we were coming from the forest, and a mountain came into sight, I asked him, "If yonder mountain were all pure gold, would you give me some of it?" "Who are you?" he said, "I will give you nothing." And in these words he refused what it was easy to give." [69] To illustrate this, she repeated the first stanza:
He might give at little cost
What he would not miss, if lost.
Golden mountains I bestow;
He to all I ask says "No."
The king on hearing this uttered the second stanza:What he would not miss, if lost.
Golden mountains I bestow;
He to all I ask says "No."
When you can, say "Yes, I
will,"
When you cannot, promise nil.
Broken promises are lies;
Liars all wise men despise.
The queen, when she heard this, raising her joined hands in
respectful salutation, repeated the third stanza:When you cannot, promise nil.
Broken promises are lies;
Liars all wise men despise.
Standing fast in righteousness,
Thee, O prince, we humbly bless.
Fortune may all else destroy;
Truth is still thy only joy.
[70] The Bodhisatta, after hearing the queen sing the praises of
the king, set forth her virtues and repeated the fourth stanza.:Thee, O prince, we humbly bless.
Fortune may all else destroy;
Truth is still thy only joy.
Known to fame as peerless wife,
Sharing weal and woe of life,
Equal she to either fate,
Fit with even kings to mate.
The Bodhisatta in these words sang the praises of the queen,
saying, "This lady, your majesty, in the time of your adversity, lived
with youSharing weal and woe of life,
Equal she to either fate,
Fit with even kings to mate.
and shared your sorrows in the forest. You ought to do her honour." The king, at his words, called to mind the queen's virtues and said, "Wise Sir, at your words I am reminded of the queen's virtues," and so saying he gave all power into her hand. Moreover he bestowed great power upon the Bodhisatta. "For it was by you," he said, "I was reminded of the queen's virtues."
No. 321.
KUṬIDŪSAKA-JĀTAKA.
[71] "Monkey, in feet," etc.—This was a story told by the Master while dwelling at Jetavana, about a young disciple who burnt down the hut of leaves of the elder Mahākassapa. The incident that led to the story originated in Rājagaha. At that time, they say, the elder was living in a cell in the forest near Rājagaha. Two young novices ministered to his wants. The one of them was serviceable to the elder, the other was ill-behaved. Whatever was done by his comrade, he makes as if it were done by himself. For instance, when the other lad had placed water to rinse the mouth, he goes to the elder and saluting him, says, "Sir, the water is ready. Please to rinse your mouth." And when his companion had risen betimes and swept out the elder's cell, as soon as the elder appears, he knocks things about hither and thither, and makes as if the whole cell had been swept out by himself.The dutiful disciple thought, "This ill-behaved fellow claims whatever I do just as if he had done it himself. I will expose his cunning behaviour." So when the young rogue had returned from the village and was sleeping after his meal, he heated water for the bath, and hid it in a back room, and then put merely a small quantity of water in the boiler. The other lad on waking went and saw the steam rising up and thought, "No doubt our friend has heated the water and put it in the bath-room." So going to the elder he said, "Sir, the water is in the bath-room. Please, take your bath." The elder went with him to take a bath, and finding no water in the bath-room asked where the water was. The lad went hastily to the heating chamber and let down a ladle into the empty boiler. The ladle struck against the bottom of the empty vessel, and gave forth a rattling sound. (Thenceforth the boy was known by the name of "Rattle-Ladle.") At this moment the other lad fetched the water from the back room, and said, "Sir, please take your bath." The elder had his bath, [72] and being now aware of Rattle-Ladle's misconduct, when the boy came in the evening to wait upon him, he reproached him and said, "When one that is under religious vows
has done a thing himself, then only has he the right to say, "I did that." Otherwise it is a deliberate lie. Henceforth be not guilty of conduct like this."
The boy was wroth with the elder, and next day refused to go into the town with him to beg for alms. But the other youth accompanied the elder. And Rattle-Ladle went to see a family of the elder's retainers. When they inquired where the elder was, he answered that he remained at home ill. They asked what he ought to have. He said, "Give me so and so," and took it and went to a place that he fancied, and ate it and returned to the hermitage. Next day the elder visited that family and sat down with them. The people said, "You are not well, are you? Yesterday, they say, you stopped at home in your cell. We sent you some food by the hand of such and such a lad. Did your Reverence partake of it?" The elder held his peace, and when he had finished his meal, returned to the monastery.
In the evening when the boy came to wait upon him, the elder addressed him thus: "You went begging, Sir, in such and such a family, and in such and such a village. And you begged, saying, "The elder must have so and so to eat." And then, they say, you ate it yourself. Such begging is highly improper. See that you are not guilty of such misconduct again."
So the boy for ever so long nursed a grudge against the elder, thinking, "Yesterday merely on account of a little water he picked a quarrel with me. And now being indignant because of my having eaten a handful of rice in the house of his retainers, he quarrels with me again. I will find out the right way to deal with him." And next day, when the elder had gone into the city for alms, he took a hammer and broke all the vessels used for food, and setting fire to the hut of leaves, took to his heels. While still alive he became a preta in the world of men, and withered away till he died and was born again in the Great Hell of Avīci. And the fame of his evil deed spread abroad amongst the people.
So one day some Brethren came from Rājagaha to Sāvatthi, and after putting away their bowls and robes in the Common Room they went and saluting the Master sat down. The Master conversed pleasantly with them and asked whence they had come. "From Rājagaha, Sir." "Who is the teacher that preaches there?" he said. "The Great Kassapa, Sir." "Is Kassapa quite well, Brethren?" he asked. "Yes, Reverend Sir, the elder is well. But a youthful member of the fraternity was so angry on account of a reproof he gave him, that he set fire to the elder's hut of leaves, and made off." [73] The Master, on hearing this, said, "Brethren, solitude is better for Kassapa than keeping company with a fool like this." And so saying he repeated a stanza in the Dhammapada:
To travel with the vulgar herd refuse,
And fellowship with foolish folk eschew;
Thy peer or better for a comrade choose
Or else in solitude thy way pursue.
Moreover he again addressed the Brethren and said, "Not now
only, Brethren, did this youth destroy the hut and feel wroth with one that
reproved him. In former times too he was wroth." And he then told them a
legend of the past.And fellowship with foolish folk eschew;
Thy peer or better for a comrade choose
Or else in solitude thy way pursue.
Monkey, in feet and hands and face
So like the human form,
Why buildest thou no dwelling-place,
To hide thee from the storm?
The monkey, on hearing this, replied with a second stanza:So like the human form,
Why buildest thou no dwelling-place,
To hide thee from the storm?
In feet and hands and face, O bird,
Though close to man allied,
Wisdom, chief boon on him conferred,
To me has been denied.
The Bodhisatta, on hearing this, repeated yet two more couplets:Though close to man allied,
Wisdom, chief boon on him conferred,
To me has been denied.
He that inconstancy betrays, a light
and fickle mind,
Unstable proved in all his ways, no happiness may find.
[74] Monkey, in virtue to excel, do thou thy utmost strive,
And safe from wintry blast to dwell, go, hut of leaves contrive.
Thought the monkey, "This creature, through dwelling in a
place that is sheltered from the rain, despises me. I will not suffer him to
rest quietly in this nest." Accordingly, in his eagerness to catch the
Bodhisatta, he made a spring upon him. But the Bodhisatta flew up into the air,
and winged his way elsewhere. And the monkey, after smashing up and destroying
his nest, betook himself off.Unstable proved in all his ways, no happiness may find.
[74] Monkey, in virtue to excel, do thou thy utmost strive,
And safe from wintry blast to dwell, go, hut of leaves contrive.
No. 322.
DADDABHA-JATAKA. 1
"From the spot where," etc.—This story was told by the Master, when he dwelt at Jetavana, about some heretics. These heretics, they say, in various places near Jetavana, made their beds on thorns, suffered the five-fold forms of fire penance, and practised false asceticism of many different kinds. Now a number of the Brethren, after going their rounds for alms in Sāvatthi, on their way back to Jetavana saw these heretics undergoing their pretended austerities, and came and asked the Master, [75] "Is there, Sir, any virtue in these heterodox priests in taking upon them these practices?" The Master said, "There is novirtue, Brethren, nor any special merit in it. When it is examined and tested, it is like a path over a dunghill, or like the noise the hare heard." "We do not know, Sir, what that noise was. Tell us, Holy Sir." So at their request he told them an old-world legend.
When the Bodhisatta saw this headlong flight of the animals, and heard the cause of it was that the earth was coming to an end, he thought: "The earth is nowhere coming to an end. Surely it must be some sound which was misunderstood by them. And if I don't make a great effort, they will all perish. I will save their lives." So with the speed of a lion he got before them to the foot of a mountain, and lion-like roared three times. They were terribly frightened at the lion, and stopping in their flight stood all huddled together. The lion went in amongst them and asked why they were running away.
"The earth is collapsing," they answered.
"Who saw it collapsing?" he said.
"The elephants know all about it," they replied.
He asked the elephants. "We don't know," they said, "the lions know." But the lions said, "We don't know, the tigers know." The tigers said, "The rhinoceroses know." The rhinoceroses said, "The wild oxen know." The wild oxen, "the buffaloes." The buffaloes, "the elks." The elks, "the boars." The boars, "the deer." The deer said, "We
don't know, the hares know." When the hares were questioned, they pointed to one particular hare and said, "This one told us."
So the Bodhisatta asked, "Is it true, Sir, that the earth is breaking up?" "Yes, Sir, I saw it," said the hare.
"Where," he asked, "were you living, when you saw it?"
"Near the ocean, Sir, in a grove of palms mixed with vilva trees. For as I was lying beneath the shade of a palm sapling at the foot of a vilva tree, methought, "If this earth should break up, where shall I go?" And at that very moment I heard the sound of the breaking up of the earth and I fled."
Thought the lion: "A ripe vilva fruit evidently must have fallen on a palm leaf and made a "thud," and this hare jumped to the conclusion that the earth was coming to an end, and ran away. [77] I will find out the exact truth about it." So he reassured the herd of animals, and said, "I will take the hare and go and find out exactly whether the earth is coming to an end or not, in the place pointed out by him. Until I return, do you stay here." Then placing the hare on his back, he sprang forward with the speed of a lion, and putting the hare down in the palm grove, he said "Come, show us the place you meant."
"I dare not, my lord," said the hare.
"Come, don't be afraid," said the lion.
The hare, not venturing to go near the vilva tree, stood afar off and cried, "Yonder, Sir, is the place of dreadful sound," and so saying, he repeated the first stanza:
From the spot where I did dwell
Issued forth a fearful "thud;"
What it was I could not tell,
Nor what caused it understood.
After hearing what the hare said, the lion went to the foot of the
vilva tree, and saw the spot where the hare had been lying beneath the shade of
the palm tree, and the ripe vilva fruit that fell on the palm leaf, and having
carefully ascertained that the earth had not broken up, he placed the hare on
his back and with the speed of a lion soon came again to the herd of beasts.Issued forth a fearful "thud;"
What it was I could not tell,
Nor what caused it understood.
Then he told them the whole story, and said, "Don't be afraid." And having thus reassured the herd of beasts, he let them go. Verily, if it had not been for the Bodhisatta at that time, all the beasts would have rushed into the sea and perished. It was all owing to the Bodhisatta that they escaped death.
Alarmed at sound of fallen fruit
A hare once ran away,
The other beasts all followed suit
Moved by that hare's dismay.
A hare once ran away,
The other beasts all followed suit
Moved by that hare's dismay.
They hastened not to view the scene,
But lent a willing ear
To idle gossip, and were clean
Distraught with foolish fear.
[78] They who to Wisdom's calm delightBut lent a willing ear
To idle gossip, and were clean
Distraught with foolish fear.
And Virtue's heights attain,
Though ill example should invite,
Such panic fear disdain.
These three stanzas were inspired by Perfect Wisdom.
Footnotes
49:1 See Tibetan Tales, XXII. p. 296, "The Flight of the Beasts." R. Morris, Folk-Lore Journal, Vol. iii. 121.No. 323.
BRAHMADATTA-JĀTAKA.
"Such is the quality," etc.—This story was told by the Master, while dwelling in the Aggāḷava shrine near Āḷavī, concerning the regulations to be observed in the building of cells. 1The introductory story has been already set forth in the Maṇikaṇṭha Birth 2, but on this occasion the Master said, "Is it true, Brethren, that you live here by your importunity in asking and begging for alms?" And when they answered "Yes," he reproved them and said, "Wise men of old, when offered their choice by the king, though they were longing to ask for a pair of single-soled shoes, through fear of doing violence to their sensitive and scrupulous nature, did not venture to say a word in the presence of the people, but spoke in private." And so saying he told them an old-world legend.
And wandering into the haunts of men for the purpose of procuring salt and vinegar, he came to a city of North Pañcāla and took up his abode in the king's garden. Next day he went into the city to beg alms, and came to the king's gate. The king was so pleased with his deportment and behaviour that be seated him on the dais and fed him with food worthy of a king. And he bound him by a solemn promise and assigned him a lodging in the garden.
He lived constantly in the king's house, and at the end of the rainy season, being anxious to return to the Himālayas, he thought, "If I go upon this journey, I must get a pair of single-soled shoes 1 and a parasol of leaves. I will beg them of the king." One day he came to the garden, and finding the king sitting there, he saluted him and resolved he would ask him for the shoes and parasol. But his second thought was, "A man who begs of another, saying, "Give me so and so," is apt to weep. And the other man also when he refuses, saying, "I have it not," in his turn weeps." And that the people might not see either him or the king weeping, he thought, "We will both weep quietly in some secret place." So he said, "Great King, I am anxious to speak with you in private." The royal attendants on hearing this departed. Thought the Bodhisatta, "If the king should refuse my prayer, our friendship will be at an end. So I will not ask a boon of him." That day, not venturing to mention the subject, he said, "Go now, Great King, I will see about this matter by and bye." Another day on the king's coming to the garden, saying, as before, first this and then that, he could not frame his request. And so twelve years elapsed.
Then the king thought, [80] "This priest said, "I wish to speak in private," and when the courtiers are departed, he has not the courage to speak. And while he is longing to do so, twelve years have elapsed. After living a religious life so long, I suspect, he is regretting the world. He is eager to enjoy pleasures and is longing for sovereignty. But being unable to frame the word "kingdom," he keeps silent. To-day now I will offer him whatever he desires, from my kingdom downwards."So he went to the garden and sitting down saluted him. The Bodhisatta asked to speak to him in private, and when the courtiers had departed, he could not utter a word. The king said, "For twelve years you have asked to speak to me in private, and when you have had the opportunity, you have not been able to say a word. I offer you everything, beginning with my kingdom. Do not be afraid, but ask for whatever you please."
"Great King," he said, "will you give me what I want?"
"Yes, Reverend Sir, I will."
"Great King, when I go on my journey, I must have a pair of single-soled shoes and a parasol of leaves."
"Have you not been able, Sir, for twelve years to ask for such a trifle as this?"
"That is so, Great King."
"Why, Sir, did you act thus?"
"Great King, the man who says "Give me so and so," sheds tears, and the one who refuses and says "I have it not," in his turn weeps. If, when I begged, you should have refused me, I feared the people might see us mingling our tears. This is why I asked for a secret interview." Then from the beginning he repeated three stanzas:
Such is the quality of prayer, O king,
’Twill a rich gift or a refusal bring.
Who beg, Pañcāla lord, to weep are fain,’Twill a rich gift or a refusal bring.
They who refuse are apt to weep again.
Lest people see us shed the idle tear,
My prayer I whisper in thy secret ear.
[81] The king, being charmed with this mark of respect on the part of the Bodhisatta, granted him the boon and spoke the fourth stanza:
Brahmin, I offer thee a thousand kine,
Red kine, and eke the leader of the herd;
Hearing but now these generous words of thine,
I too in turn to generous deed am stirred.
But the Bodhisatta said, "I do not, Sire, desire material
pleasures. Give me that only which I ask for." And he took a pair of
single-soled shoes and the parasol of leaves, and exhorted the king to be
zealous in religion and to keep the moral law and observe fast days. And though
the king begged hint to stay, he went off to the Himālayas, where he developed
all the Faculties and Attainments, and was destined to birth in the
Brahma-world.Red kine, and eke the leader of the herd;
Hearing but now these generous words of thine,
I too in turn to generous deed am stirred.
Footnotes
52:1 See Suttavibhaṅga vi. 1.52:2 No. 253, Vol. ii.
53:1 See Mahāvagga, v. 1. 28. Shoes with more than a single lining were not to be worn by the Brethren, except when they had been cast off by others.
No. 324.
CAMMASĀṬAKA-JĀTAKA. 1
[82] "The kindly beast," etc.—This story was told by the Master while living at Jetavana, about a mendicant priest who wore a leather jerkin. 2 Both his upper and under garment, it is said, were of leather. One day sallying out of the monastery, he went his rounds in Sāvatthi for alms, till he came to the fighting-ground of the rams. A ram on seeing him drew back, desiring to butt him. The mendicant thought, "He is doing this, as an act of respect for me," and himself did not draw back. The ram came on with a rush and striking him on the thigh felled him to the ground. This case of imaginary salutation was blazed abroad in the Congregation of the Brethren. The matter was discussed by them in the Hall of Truth, as to how the leather-coated mendicant fancied he was being saluted and met with his death. The Master came and inquired the subject of their discussion and on being told what it was said, "Not now only, Brethren, but of old too this ascetic imagined he was being saluted and so came by his death," and he then related to them an old-world legend.
The kindly beast obeisance makes before
The high-caste brahmin versed in holy lore.
Good honest creature thou,
Famous above all other beasts, I vow!
[83] At this moment a wise merchant sitting in his stores, to
restrain the mendicant, uttered the second stanza:The high-caste brahmin versed in holy lore.
Good honest creature thou,
Famous above all other beasts, I vow!
Brahmin, be not so rash this beast to
trust,
Else will he haste to lay thee in the dust,
For this the ram falls back,
To gain an impetus for his attack.
While this wise merchant was still speaking, the ram came on at
full speed, and striking the mendicant on the thigh, knocked him down. HeElse will he haste to lay thee in the dust,
For this the ram falls back,
To gain an impetus for his attack.
was maddened with the pain and as he lay groaning, the Master, to explain the incident, gave utterance to the third stanza:
With broken leg and bowl for alms
upset,
His damaged fortune he will sore regret.
Let him not weep with outstretched arms in vain,
Haste to the rescue, ere the priest is slain.
Then the mendicant repeated the fourth stanza:His damaged fortune he will sore regret.
Let him not weep with outstretched arms in vain,
Haste to the rescue, ere the priest is slain.
Thus all that honour to the unworthy
pay,
Share the same fate that I have met to-day;
Prone in the dust by butting ram laid low
To foolish confidence my death I owe.
[84] Thus lamenting he there and then came by his death.Share the same fate that I have met to-day;
Prone in the dust by butting ram laid low
To foolish confidence my death I owe.
Footnotes
55:1 See R. Morris, Folk-Lore Journal, iii. 248.55:2 Mahāvagga, viii. 28. 2.
No. 325.
GODHA-JĀTAKA. 1
"One that plays," etc.—This story was told by the Master, while living at Jetavana, with regard to a certain cheating rogue. The introductory story has been already given in full. But oh this occasion they brought the Brother to the Master and exposed him, saying, "Holy Sir, this Brother is a cheat." The Master said, "Not now only, but formerly also he was a rogue." And then he told an old-world story."This hut must certainly belong to some holy ascetic," and he went there and after saluting the holy man returned to his own place of abode.
Now one day this false ascetic ate some savoury food prepared in the house of one of his retainers, and asked what meat it was. On hearing that it was lizard-flesh, he became such a slave to his love of dainties that he thought, "I will kill this lizard that so constantly keeps coming to my hermitage and will cook him to my taste and eat him." So he took some ghee, curds, condiments and the like, and went with his club concealed under his yellow robe and sat perfectly still at the door of his hut, waiting for the Bodhisatta to come, as quiet as quiet could be.
[85] And when the Bodhisatta saw this depraved fellow he thought, "This wretch must have been eating the flesh of my kinsfolk. I will put it to the test." So he stood to leeward of him and getting a whiff from his person he knew that he had been eating the flesh of a lizard, and without going near him he turned back and made off. And when the ascetic saw he was not coming, he threw his club at him. The club missed his body, but just reached the tip of his tail. The ascetic said, "Be off with you, I have missed you." Said the Bodhisatta, "Yes, you have missed me, but you will not miss the fourfold States of Suffering." Than he ran off and disappeared in an ant-hill which stood at the end of the cloister walk, and putting out his head at some other hole, he addressed the ascetic in these two stanzas:
One that plays the ascetic rōle
Should exhibit self-control.
Thou didst hurl thy stick at me,
False ascetic thou must be.
Matted locks and robe of skinShould exhibit self-control.
Thou didst hurl thy stick at me,
False ascetic thou must be.
Serve to cloke some secret sin.
Fool! to cleanse for outward show,
Leaving what is foul below.
The ascetic, on hearing this, replied in a third stanza:
Prithee, lizard, hasten back,
Oil and salt I do not lack:
Pepper too I would suggest
May to boiled rice add a zest.
[86] The Bodhisatta, on hearing this, uttered the fourth stanza:Oil and salt I do not lack:
Pepper too I would suggest
May to boiled rice add a zest.
I will hide me snug and warm
Midst the anthill's myriad swarm.
Cease of oil and salt to prate,
Pepper I abominate.
Moreover he threatened him and said, "Fie! false ascetic, if
you continue to dwell here, I will have you seized as a thief by the people whoMidst the anthill's myriad swarm.
Cease of oil and salt to prate,
Pepper I abominate.
live in my feeding ground, and given over to destruction. So make haste and be off." Then the false ascetic fled from that place.
Footnotes
56:1 Compare No. 277, vol. ii.No. 326.
KAKKĀRU-JĀTAKA.
"He that from thievish act," etc.—This story was told by the Master while he was at Jetavana, about Devadatta, how that after causing a schism in the Order, as he was going away with his chief disciples, when the assembly broke up, a hot stream of blood gushed from his mouth. Then the Brethren discussed the matter in the Hall of Truth, and said that Devadatta by speaking falsely had created a schism, and afterwards fell sick and suffered great rain. The Master came and inquired what subject the Brethren were discussing as they sat in conclave, and on hearing what it was he said, "Not now only, Brethren, but of old too this fellow was a liar, and not now only, but of old also he suffered pain as the penalty of lying." And so saying he repeated this old-world legend."We come from the heaven of the Thirty-three."
"For what purpose are you come?"
"To see the festival."
"What are these flowers?"
"They are called the heavenly kakkāru flowers."
"Sirs," they said, "in the world of the gods you may have other flowers to wear. Give these to us."
The gods made answer, "These divine flowers are fit for those possessed of great powers: for the base, foolish, faithless and sinful beings in this world of men they are not fitted. But whosoever amongst men are endued with such and such virtues, for them they are suitable." And with these words the chief amongst these divine beings repeated the first stanza:—
He that from thievish act refrains,
His tongue from lying word restrains,
And reaching dizzy heights of fame
Still keeps his head—this flower may claim.
[88] On hearing this the family priest thought, "I own not
one of these qualities, but by telling a lie I will get these flowers to wear,
and thus the people will credit me with these virtues." Then he said,
"I am endued with these qualities," and he had the flowers brought to
him and he put them on, and then begged of the second god, who replied in a
second stanza:—His tongue from lying word restrains,
And reaching dizzy heights of fame
Still keeps his head—this flower may claim.
He that should honest wealth pursue
And riches gained by fraud eschew,
In pleasure gross excess would shun,
This heavenly flower has duly won.
Said the priest, "I am endued with these virtues," and
had the flowers brought to him and put them on, and then begged of the third
god, who uttered the third stanza:—And riches gained by fraud eschew,
In pleasure gross excess would shun,
This heavenly flower has duly won.
He that from purpose fixed ne’er
swerves
And his unchanging faith preserves,
Choice food alone scorns to devour,
May justly claim this heavenly flower.
[89] Said the priest, "I am endued with these virtues,"
and had the flowers brought to him and he put them on, and then begged of the
fourth god, who spoke the fourth stanza:—And his unchanging faith preserves,
Choice food alone scorns to devour,
May justly claim this heavenly flower.
He that good men will ne’er attack
When present, nor behind their back,
And all he says, fulfils in deed,
This flower may claim as his due weed.
The priest said, "I am endued with these virtues," and
he had the flowers brought to him and put them on. So these divine beings gave
the four wreaths of flowers to the priest and returned to the world of gods. As
soon as they were gone, the priest was seized with a violent pain in the head,
as if it were being pounded by a sharp spike, or crushed by anWhen present, nor behind their back,
And all he says, fulfils in deed,
This flower may claim as his due weed.
instrument of iron. Maddened with the pain he rolled up and down, and cried out with a loud voice. When men asked, "What means this?" he said, "I claimed these virtues when I had them not, and spoke falsely and so begged these flowers of the gods: take them from off my head." They would have removed them, but could not, for they were fastened as it were with an iron band. Then they raised him up and led him home. And as he lay there crying aloud, seven days passed. The king spake to his councillors and said, "This wicked brahmin will die. What are we to do?" "My lord," they answered, "let us again celebrate a festival. The sons of the gods will come back."
[90] And the king held a festival, and the sons of the gods returned and filled all the city with the perfume of the flowers, and took their stand in the same place in the royal court. The people gathered together, and bringing that wicked brahmin they laid him down before the gods on his belly. He prayed the gods, saying, "My lords, spare my life." They said, "These flowers are not meet for a wicked and evil man. You thought in your heart to deceive us. You have received the reward of your false words."
After thus rebuking him in the presence of the people, they removed the wreath of flowers from his head and having admonished the people, they returned to their own place of abode.
No. 327.
KĀKATI-JĀTAKA. 1
"Fragrant odours," etc.—This story was told by the Master while residing at Jetavana, of a certain Brother who regretted having taken orders. On this occasion the Master asked the Brother if it were true that he was discontented, and on his answering, "Yes, Holy Sir," he asked him the reason. The Brother replied, "By reason of sinful passion." The Master said, "Woman cannot be guarded. There is no keeping her safe. Sages of old placed a woman in mid ocean in a palace by the Simbalī lake 2, but failed to preserve her honour." Then he told a story of the olden time.Once upon a time when Brahmadatta was reigning in Benares, the Bodhisatta came to life as the son of the king by his queen-consort. And when he was grown up, at his father's death he bare rule. Kākāti was his chief queen and as lovely as an Apsara. [91] The old form of the legend will be found set forth in full in the Kunāḷa Birth. 1 Here follows a brief summary of it.
Now at this time a certain Garuḍa king came disguised as a man, and played at dice with the king of Benares. Falling in love with the chief queen Kākāti, he carried her off with him to the dwelling place of the Garuḍas and lived happily with her. The king missing her told his musician named Naṭakuvera to go in quest of her. He found the Garuḍa king lying on a bed of eraka grass in a certain lake, and just as the Garuḍa was on the point of leaving that spot, he seated himself in the midst of the royal bird's plumage, 2 and was in this way conveyed to the dwelling place of the Garuḍas. There he enjoyed the lady's favours, and again seating himself on the bird's wing returned home. And when the time came for the Garuḍa to play at dice with the king, the minstrel took his lute and going up to the gaming board he stood before the king, and in the form of a song gave utterance to the first stanza:—
Fragrant odours round me playing
Breath of fair Kākāti's love,
From her distant home conveying
Thoughts my inmost soul to move.
On hearing this the Garuḍa
responded in a second stanza:—Breath of fair Kākāti's love,
From her distant home conveying
Thoughts my inmost soul to move.
Sea and Kebuk stream defying
Didst thou reach my island home?
Over seven oceans flying
To the Simbal grove didst come?
[92] Naṭakuvera, on
hearing this, uttered the third stanza:—Didst thou reach my island home?
Over seven oceans flying
To the Simbal grove didst come?
’Twas through thee all space defying
I was borne to Simbal grove,
And o’er seas and rivers flying
’Twas through thee I found my love.
Then the Garuḍa king replied
in the fourth stanza:—I was borne to Simbal grove,
And o’er seas and rivers flying
’Twas through thee I found my love.
Out upon the foolish blunder,
What a booby I have been!
Lovers best were kept asunder,
Lo! I've served as go-between.
So the Garuḍa brought the
queen and gave her back to the king of Benares, and came not there any more.What a booby I have been!
Lovers best were kept asunder,
Lo! I've served as go-between.
The Master, his lesson ended, revealed the Truths and identified the Birth:— At the conclusion of the Truths the discontented Brother attained the fruition of the First Path:— "At that time the discontented Brother was Naṭakuvera, and I myself was the king."
Footnotes
60:1Compare No. 360 infra.60:2 On Mount Meru: the Garuḍas live round it.
61:1 No. 536.
61:2 Compare Tibetan Tales, XII. p. 231, Suśroṇi.
No. 328.
ANANUSOCIYA-JĀTAKA.
"Why should I shed tears," etc.—This story was told by the Master while living at Jetavana, of a certain landowner who had lost his wife. On her death, they say, he neither washed himself nor took food, and neglected his farm duties. Overcome with grief he would wander about the cemetery lamenting, while his predestination to enter the First Path blazed forth like a halo about his head. The Master, early one morning, casting his eye upon the world and beholding him said, "Save me there is no one that can remove this man's sorrow and bestow upon him the power of entering the First Path. I will be his refuge." So when he had returned from his rounds and had eaten his meal, he took an attendant priest and went to the door of the landowner's house. [93] And he on hearing that the Master was coming went out to meet him, and with other marks of respect seated him in the prescribed seat and came and sitting on one side saluted him.The Master asked, "Wherefore, lay brother, are you silent?"
"Reverend Sir," he replied, "I am grieving for her."
The Master said, "Lay brother, that which is breakable is broken, but when this happens, one ought not to grieve. Sages of old, when they lost a wife, knew this truth, and therefore sorrowed not." And then at his request the Master told an old-world tale.
Once upon a time when Brahmadatta was reigning in Benares, the Bodhisatta was born into a brahmin family. And when he grew up, he studied all the arts at Takkasilā and then returned to his parents. In this Birth the Great Being became a holy young student. Then his parents told him they would look out a wife for him.
"I have no desire for a married life," said the Bodhisatta. "When you are dead, I will adopt the religious life of an ascetic."
And being greatly importuned by them, he had a golden image 2 made,
and said, "If you can find me a maiden like unto this, I will take her to wife." His parents sent forth some emissaries with a large escort, and bade them place the golden image in a covered carriage and go and search through the plains of India, till they found just such a young brahmin girl, when they were to give this golden image in exchange, and bring the girl back with them. Now at this time a certain holy man passing from the Brahma world was born again in the form of a young girl in a town in the kingdom of Kāsi, in the house of a brahmin worth eighty crores, and the name given her was Sammillabhāsinī. At the age of sixteen she was a fair and gracious maiden, like to an Apsara, endued with all the marks of female beauty. And since no thought of evil was ever suggested to her by the power of sinful passion, she was perfectly pure. [94] So the men took the golden image and wandered about till they reached this village. The inhabitants on seeing the image asked, "Why is Sammillabhāsinī, the daughter of such and such a brahmin, placed there?" The messengers on hearing this found the brahmin family, and chose Sammillabhāsinī for the prince's bride. She sent a message to her parents, saying, "When you are dead, I shall adopt the religious life; I have no desire for the married state." They said, "What art thou thinking of, maiden?" And accepting the golden image they sent off their daughter with a great retinue. The marriage ceremony took place against the wishes of both the Bodhisatta and Sammillabhāsinī. Though sharing the same room and the same bed they did not regard one another with the eye of sinful passion, but dwelt together like two holy men or two female saints.
By and bye the father and mother of the Bodhisatta died. He performed their funeral rites and calling to him Sammillabhāsinī, said to her, "My dear, my family property amounts to eighty crores, and yours too is worth another eighty crores. Take all this and enter upon household life. I shall become an ascetic."
"Sir," she answered, "if you become an ascetic, I will become one too. I cannot forsake you."
"Come then," he said. So spending all their wealth in almsgiving and throwing up their worldly fortune as it were a lump of phlegm, they journeyed into the Himālaya country and both of them adopted the ascetic life. There after living for a long time on wild fruits and roots, they at length came down from the Himālayas to procure salt and vinegar, and gradually found their way to Benares, and dwelt in the royal grounds. And while they were living there, this young and delicate female ascetic, from eating insipid rice of a mixed quality, was attacked by dysentery and not being able to get any healing remedies, she grew very weak. The Bodhisatta at the time for going his rounds to beg for alms, took hold of her and carried her to the gate of the city and there laid her on a bench in a certain hall, and himself went into the city for alms. He had scarce
gone out when she expired. The people, beholding the great beauty of this female ascetic, [95] thronged about her, weeping and lamenting. The Bodhisatta after going his round of begging returned, and hearing of her death he said, "That which has the quality of dissolution is dissolved. All impermanent existences are of this kind." With these words he sat down on the bench whereon she lay and eating the mixture of food he rinsed out his mouth. The people that stood by gathered round him and said, "Reverend Sir, what was this female ascetic to you?"
"When I was a layman," he replied, "she was my wife."
"Holy Sir," they said, "while we weep and lament and cannot control our feelings, why do you not weep?"
The Bodhisatta said, "While she was alive, she belonged to me in some sort. Nothing belongs to her that is gone to another world.: she has passed into the power of others. Wherefore should I weep?" And teaching the people the Truth, he recited these stanzas:
Why should I shed tears for thee,
Fair Sammillabhāsinī?
Passed to death's majority 1
Thou art henceforth lost to me.
Wherefore should frail man lamentFair Sammillabhāsinī?
Passed to death's majority 1
Thou art henceforth lost to me.
What to him is only lent?
He too draws his mortal breath
Forfeit every hour to death.
Be he standing, sitting still,
Moving, resting, what he will,
In the twinkling of an eye,
In a moment death is nigh.
Life I count a thing unstable,
Loss of friends inevitable.
Cherish all that are alive,
Sorrow not shouldst thou survive.
[97] Thus did the Great Being teach the Truth, illustrating by these four stanzas the impermanence of things. The people performed funeral rites over the female ascetic. And the Bodhisatta returned to the Himālayas, and entering on the higher knowledge arising from mystic meditation was destined to birth in the Brahma-world.
Footnotes
62:1 No. 443.62:2 For the incident of the golden image and the story generally compare Tibetan Tales, IX. p. 186. Mahākās`yapa and Bhadrā.
64:1 Compare the classical usage of οἰ πλείους, plures, for the dead.
No. 329.
KĀLABĀHU-JĀTAKA.
"Once we enjoyed," etc.—This was a story told by the Master while dwelling in the Bamboo Grove, with regard to Devadatta's loss of gains and honour. For when Devadatta had unreasonably conceived a grudge against the Buddha and suborned a band of archers to slay him, his offence became known by the letting loose of the elephant Nālāgiri 1. Then men took away his office and the rations provided for him, and the king ceased to regard him. And having lost his source of gains and honour, he went about living on what he begged in noble families. The Brethren started a discussion in the Hall of Truth, how that Devadatta thought to get gain and honour, but when he had got it he could not keep it. The Master came and inquired what was the subject the Brethren sat in conclave to discuss, and on being told what it was he said, "Not only now, Brethren, but formerly too, Devadatta was deprived of gains and honour." And he then told them an old-world legend.
Once we enjoyed of food abundant store,
This monkey now has what was ours before.
Come, Rādha, let us to the forest hie;
Such scurvy treatment what can justify?
This monkey now has what was ours before.
Come, Rādha, let us to the forest hie;
Such scurvy treatment what can justify?
Rādha, on hearing this, replied in the second stanza:
Gain and loss and praise and blame,
Pleasure, pain, dishonour, fame,
All as transient states conceive—
Why should Poṭṭhapāda grieve?
[99] On hearing this, Poṭṭhapāda
was unable to get rid of his grudge against the monkey and repeated the third
stanza:Pleasure, pain, dishonour, fame,
All as transient states conceive—
Why should Poṭṭhapāda grieve?
Rādha, wisest bird alive,
Sure thou knowest things to come,
This vile creature who shall drive
From the court to his old home?
Rādha, on hearing this, uttered the fourth stanza:Sure thou knowest things to come,
This vile creature who shall drive
From the court to his old home?
Oft will his puckered face and moving
ears
The royal children fill with foolish fears:
Soon Kālabāhu through some impish freak,
Far far away his food will have to seek.
In a very short time the monkey by shaking his ears and the like
tricks before the young princes terrified them. In their alarm they made an
outcry. The king asked what it meant, and hearing the cause, said, "Drive
him away." So he had the monkey driven away, and the parrots were restored
to their former condition of gain and honour.The royal children fill with foolish fears:
Soon Kālabāhu through some impish freak,
Far far away his food will have to seek.
Footnotes
65:1 See vol. ii. p. 140, and p. 168.No. 330.
SĪLAVĪMAṀSA-JĀTAKA.
"Power on earth," etc.—This was a story told by the Master when at Jetavana, about a brahmin who was ever proving his virtue. Two similar stories have been told before. 1 In this case the Bodhisatta was the family priest of the king of Benares.In testing his virtue he for three days took a coin from the royal treasurer's board. They informed against him as a thief, and when brought before the king, he said:
Power on earth beyond compare,
Virtue owns a wondrous charm:
Putting on a virtuous air
Deadly snakes avoid all harm.
After thus praising virtue in the first stanza, he gained the
king's consent and adopted the ascetic life. Now a hawk seized a piece of meat
in a butcher's shop and darted up into the air. The other birds surrounded him
and struck at him with feet, claws and beaks. Unable to bear the pain he
dropped the piece of meat. Another bird seized it. It too in like manner being
hard pressed let the meat fall. Then another bird pounced on it, and whosoever
got the meat was pursued by the rest, and whosoever let it go was left in
peace. The Bodhisatta on seeing this thought, "These desires of ours are
like pieces of meat. To those that grasp at them is sorrow, and to those that
let them go is peace." And he repeated the second stanza:Virtue owns a wondrous charm:
Putting on a virtuous air
Deadly snakes avoid all harm.
While the hawk had aught to eat,
Birds of prey pecked at him sore,
When perforce he dropped the meat,
Then they pecked at him no more.
[101] The ascetic going forth from the city, in the course of his
journey came to a village, and at evening lay down in a certain man's house.
Now a female slave there named Piṅgalā made an
assignation with a man, saying, "You are to come at such and such an
hour." After she had bathed the feet of her master and his family, when
they had lain down, she sat on the threshold, looking out for the coming of her
lover, and passed the first and the middle watch, repeating to herself,
"Now he will be coming," but at daybreak, losing hope, she said,
"He will not come now," and lay down and fell asleep. The Bodhisatta
seeing this happen said, "This woman sat ever so long in the hope that her
lover would come, but now that she knows he will not come, in her despair, she
slumbers peacefully." And with the thought that while hope in a sinful
world brings sorrow, despair brings peace, he uttered the third stanza:Birds of prey pecked at him sore,
When perforce he dropped the meat,
Then they pecked at him no more.
The fruit of hope fulfilled is bliss;
How differs loss of hope from this?
Though dull despair her hope destroys,
Lo! Piṅgalā calm sleep enjoys 1.
Next day going forth from that village he entered into a forest,
and beholding a hermit seated on the ground and indulging in meditation heHow differs loss of hope from this?
Though dull despair her hope destroys,
Lo! Piṅgalā calm sleep enjoys 1.
thought, "Both in this world and in the next there is no happiness beyond the bliss of meditation." And he repeated the fourth stanza:
In this world and in worlds to be
Nought can surpass ecstatic joy:
To holy calm a devotee,
Himself unharmed, will none annoy.
[102] Then he went into the forest and adopted the ascetic life of
a Rishi and developed the higher knowledge born of meditation, and became
destined to birth in the Brahma-World.Nought can surpass ecstatic joy:
To holy calm a devotee,
Himself unharmed, will none annoy.
Footnotes
66:1 No. 86, Vol. i., and No. 290, Vol. ii.67:1 Compare Sánkhya Aphorisms, iv. 11. Mahābhārata, xii. 6447.
No. 331.
KOKĀLIKA-JĀTAKA.
"They that with speech inopportune," etc.—This story was told by the Master at Jetavana about Kokālika. The introductory story is told in full in the Takkārika Birth. 1Bodhisatta, "What is the meaning of this, my friend?" Thought the Bodhisatta, "I am seeking for an illustration to teach the king a lesson, and now I have got one." So he said, "Garrulous folk, Great King, who talk too much out of season, meet with a fate like this. This young cuckoo, sire, being fostered by the crow, while yet unfledged, uttered a premature cry. So the crow knew it was not her offspring and killed it by pecking it with her beak and threw it out of the nest. All those that are too talkative out of season, be they men or beasts, suffer like trouble." And with these words he recited these stanzas:
They that with speech inopportune
offend
Like the young cuckoo meet untimely end.
Nor deadly poison, nor sharp-whetted sword
Is half so fatal as ill-spoken word.
The sage his measured words discreetly guides,Like the young cuckoo meet untimely end.
Nor deadly poison, nor sharp-whetted sword
Is half so fatal as ill-spoken word.
Nor rashly to his second self confides:
Before he speaks will prudent counsel take,
His foes to trap, as Garuḍa the snake.
[104] The king, after hearing the religious teaching of the Bodhisatta, thenceforth became more measured in his words, and increasing the glory of the Bodhisatta ever gave him more and more.
Footnotes
68:1 No. 481. Compare No. 215, Vol. ii.No. 332.
RATHALAṬṬHI-JĀTAKA.
"Wounding another," etc.—This story was told by the Master when he was at Jetavana, about the family priest of the king of Kosala, who, it is said, as he was driving in his chariot to a village on his estate came upon a caravan in a narrow road, and crying out once and again, "Out of the way with you," was so enraged at a cart not clearing out of his way that he threw his goad-stick at the driver of the first cart. The stick struck against the yoke of the chariot, and rebounding hit him on the forehead and raised a bump on his head. The priest turned back and went and told the king he had been wounded by some carters. The carters were summoned, and the judges examining into the case found the priest only was to blame. One day the matter was discussed in the Hall of Truth, [105]how that the king's chaplain, who said he had been assaulted by some carters, on going to law was cast in his suit. When the Master came and inquired what the Brethren were sitting in council to discuss, on hearing what it was he said, "Not now only, Brethren, but formerly also this fellow acted in precisely the same way." And he then told them a story of the olden time.
Wounding another, his own wound he
shows,
Himself the smiter, he complains of blows.
Wise men, O king, of partial views beware,
Hear both sides first, then judgment true declare.
The idle sensual layman I detest,
The false ascetic is a rogue confest.
A bad king will a case unheard decide,
Wrath in the sage can ne’er be justified.
[106] The warrior prince a well-weighed verdict gives,
Of righteous judge the fame for ever lives.
The king on hearing the words of the Bodhisatta judged
righteously, and when the case was duly tried, the blame was found to rest with
the brahmin alone.Himself the smiter, he complains of blows.
Wise men, O king, of partial views beware,
Hear both sides first, then judgment true declare.
The idle sensual layman I detest,
The false ascetic is a rogue confest.
A bad king will a case unheard decide,
Wrath in the sage can ne’er be justified.
[106] The warrior prince a well-weighed verdict gives,
Of righteous judge the fame for ever lives.
No. 333.
GODHA-JĀTAKA. 1
"Then wert thou," etc.—This is a story told by the Master while at Jetavana, of a certain landowner. The introductory story has been told in full before. 2 But in this case, as the husband and wife were returning home, after calling in a debt, in the course of their journey some hunters gave them a roasted lizard, bidding them both to eat of it. The man sent his wife to fetch water and ate up the whole lizard, and when she came back, he said, "My dear, the lizard has run away." "Well, my lord," she said, "what can one do with a roast lizard that runs away?" [107] She drank some water and afterwards at Jetavana when sitting in the presence of the Master, she was asked by him as follows: "Lay sister, is this man affectionate, loving and helpful to you?" She answered, "I am loving and affectionate to him, but he has no love for me." The Master said, "Well, suppose he does behave thus to you. Do not be grieved. When he recalls to mind your virtues, he will give supreme power to you alone." And at their request he related an old-world story."Well, my lord," she replied, "how can we deal with a roast lizard that runs away? Come, let us be off."
And so drinking the water, they journey to Benares. The prince when he came to the throne gave her the titular rank of queen consort, but no honour or respect was paid to her. The Bodhisatta, desiring to win honour for her, standing in the king's presence asked her, "Lady, is it not the case that we receive nothing at your hands? Why do you neglect us?"
"Dear sir," she said, "I get nothing from the king. How then should I give a present to you? What is the king likely to give me now? When we were coming from the forest, he ate a roast lizard all by himself."
[108] "Lady," he said, "the king would not act after this sort. Do not speak thus of him."
Then the lady said to him, "Sir, this is not clear to you, but it is clear enough to the king and me," and she repeated the first stanza:—
Then wert thou first known to me,
When in forest-depths, O king,
Roasted lizard broke its string
And from Bo-tree branch got free.
Though ’neath robe of bark, I ween,
Sword and coat of mail were seen.?
Thus spake the queen, making known the king's offence in the midst
of his courtiers. The Bodhisatta, on hearing her, said, "Lady, ever since
the time when your husband ceased to love you, why do you go on living here,
making unpleasantness for both?" and he repeated two stanzas:—When in forest-depths, O king,
Roasted lizard broke its string
And from Bo-tree branch got free.
Though ’neath robe of bark, I ween,
Sword and coat of mail were seen.?
To one that honours thee, due honour show
With full requital of good service done:
No kindness on illiberal folk bestow,
Nor those affect that would thy presence shun.
Forsake the wretch who has forsaken thee,With full requital of good service done:
No kindness on illiberal folk bestow,
Nor those affect that would thy presence shun.
And love not one who has for thee no love,
E’en as a bird forsakes a barren tree,
And seeks a home in some far distant grove.
[109] The king, while the Bodhisatta was yet speaking, called to mind her virtues and said, "My dear, ever so long I observed not your virtues, but through the words of this wise man, I have observed them. Bear with my offence. This whole realm of mine I give to you alone." And hereupon he spoke the fourth stanza:—
Far as in his power may be,
Gratitude a king should show:
All my realm I grant to thee,
Gifts, on whom thou wilt, bestow.
With these words the king conferred on the queen supreme power,
and thinking, "It was by this man that I was reminded of her
virtues," he gave great power to the wise man also.Gratitude a king should show:
All my realm I grant to thee,
Gifts, on whom thou wilt, bestow.
Footnotes
71:1 Compare No. 223, Vol. ii.71:2 See No. 320, Vol. iii.
Om Tat Sat
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