THE JĀTAKA
OR
STORIES OF THE BUDDHA'S FORMER BIRTHS
No. 445.
NIGRODHA-JĀTAKA.
"Who is the man," etc.—This story the Master told in the Bamboo Grove, about Devadatta. One day the Brethren said to him, "Friend Devadatta, the Master is most helpful to you! From the Master you received your Orders, lesser and greater; you have learnt the Three Baskets, the voice of Buddha; you have caused the Ecstasy to arise within you; the glory and gain of the Dasabala 1 belong to you." At this he held up a blade of grass, with the words, "I can see no good that the ascetic Gotama has done me, not even this much!" They talked it over in the Hall of Truth. When the Master came in, he asked what they talked of as they sat together. They told him. Said he, "Brethren, this is not the first time, but long ago as now Devadatta was ungrateful and treacherous to friends." And he told them a tale of olden days.Once upon a time a great monarch named Magadha reigned in Rājagaha. And a merchant of that city brought home for his son's wife the daughter of some country merchant. But she was barren. In course of time less respect was paid to her for this cause; they all talked, that she might hear, as thus: "While there is a barren wife in our son's household, how can the family line be kept up?" As this talk kept coming to her ears, she said to herself, "Oh, well, I will pretend to be with child, and trick them." So she asked a good old nurse of hers, "What is it that women do when they are with child?" and being instructed what to do for preserving the child 1, concealed the time of her courses; showed a fancy for sour and strange tastes; at the time when the arms and legs begin to swell, she caused them to beat hands and feet and back until they grew swollen; day by day she bandaged her body round with rags and cloths and made it appear greater; blackened the nipples of her breasts; and save that nurse alone, permitted no other to be present at her toilet. Her husband too showed her the attentions proper to her state. After nine months had passed in this fashion, she declared her wish to return home and bring forth her child in her father's house. So taking leave of her husband's parents, she mounted a carriage, [38] and with a large number of attendants left Rājagaha behind her, and proceeded along the road.
Now travelling in front of her was a caravan; and she always came about breakfast time to the place whence that caravan had just gone. And one night, a poor woman in that caravan had borne a son under a banyan tree; and thinking that without the caravan she could not get along, but that if she lived she might receive the child, covered him up 2 as he was, and left him lying there, at the foot of the banyan tree. And the deity of the tree took care of him; he was not any ordinary child, but the Bodhisatta himself had come into the world in that form.
At breakfast time the other travellers arrived at the spot. The woman, with her nurse, going apart to the shade of the banyan tree for her toilet, saw a babe of the colour of gold lying there. By-and bye she called out to the nurse that their object was gained; unwound the bandages from her loins 3; and declared that the babe was her own, and that she had just brought him forth.
The attendants at once raised a tent to seclude her, and in high delight sent a letter back to Rājagaha. Her husband's parents wrote in
reply that as the babe was born, there was no longer need for her to go to her father's house; let her return. So to Rājagaha she returned at once. And they acknowledged the babe: and when the babe came to be named, named him after the place where he was born, Nigrodha-Kumāra, or Master Banyan. That same day, the daughter-in-law of a merchant, on her way home to her father for the birth, brought forth a son beneath the branches of a tree; and him they named Sākha-Kumāra, Master Branch. And on the same day, the wife of a tailor in the employ of this merchant bore a son amidst his bits of cloth; and him they called Pottika, or Dollie.
The great merchant sent for these two children, as having been born on Master Banyan's birthday, and brought them up with him.
They all grew up together, and by-and-bye went to Takkasilā to complete their education. Both the merchants' sons had two thousand pieces to give their teacher for a fee; [39] Master Banyan provided Pottika with an education under his own wing.
When their education was finished, they took leave of their teacher, and left him, with intent to learn the customs of the country folk; and travelling on and on, in time they came to Benares, and lay down to rest in a temple. It was then the seventh day since the king of Benares had died. Proclamation was made through the city by beat of drum, that on the morrow the festal car would be prepared. The three comrades were lying under a tree asleep, when at dawn Pottika awoke, and sitting up began to chafe Banyan's feet. Some cocks were roosting upon that tree, and the cock at the top let a dropping fall upon a cock near the bottom 1."What is that fell upon me?" asked this cock. "Do not be angry, Sir," answered the other, "I did not mean to do it." "Oh, so you think my body is a place for your droppings! You don't know my importance, that is plain!" To this said the other, "Oho, still angry, though I declared that I did not mean it! And what is your importance, pray?"—"Whoever kills me and eats my flesh will receive a thousand pieces of money this very morning! Is not that something to be proud of?" "Pooh, pooh," quoth the other, "proud of a little thing like that! Why, if any one kills me and eats of my fat, he will become a king this very morning; he that eats the middle flesh, becomes commander-in-chief; who eats the flesh about the bones, he will be treasurer!"
All this Pottika overheard. "A thousand pieces—"thought he, "What is that? Best to be a king!" So gently climbing the tree, he seized the cock that was roosting atop, and killed it, and cooked it in the embers; the fat he gave to Banyan, the middle flesh to Branch, and himself ate the flesh that was about the bones. When they had eaten, he
said, "Banyan, Sir, to-day you will be king; Branch, Sir, you will be commander-in-chief; and as for me, I'm the treasurer!" They asked him how he knew; he told them.
So about the time for the first meal of the day, they entered the city of Benares. At the house of a certain brahmin they received a meal of rice-porridge, with ghee and sugar; and then emerging from the city, [40] they entered the royal park.
Banyan lay down upon a slab of stone, the other two lay beside it. It so happened that at the moment they were just sending forth the ceremonial chariot, with the five symbols of royalty 1 in it. (The details of this will be given in the Mahājanaka Birth 2.) In rolled the car, and stopping, stood ready for them to enter. "Some being of great merit must be present here!" thought the chaplain to himself. He entered the park, and espied the young man; and then removing the cloth from his feet he examined the marks upon them. "Why," said he, "he is destined to be King of all India, let alone Benares!" and he ordered all the gongs and cymbals to strike up.
Banyan awaking threw the cloth from his face, and saw a crowd assembled round him! He turned round and for a moment or two he lay still; then arose, and sat with his legs crossed. The chaplain fell upon one knee, saying, "Divine being, the kingdom is thine!" "So be it," said the youth; the chaplain placed him upon the heap of precious jewels, and sprinkled him to be king.
Thus made king, he gave the post of Commander-in-chief to his friend Branch, and entered the city in great pomp; and Pottika 3 went with them.
From that day onward the Great Being ruled righteously in Benares.
One day the memory of his parents came into his mind; and addressing Branch, he said, "Sir, it is impossible to live without father and mother; take a large company of people, and go fetch them." But Branch refused; "That is not my business," said he. Then he told Pottika to do it. Pottika agreed, and making his way to Banyan's parents, told them that their son had become a king, and begged them to come to him. But they declined, saying that they had power and wealth: enough of that, go they would not. He asked Branch's parents also to come, and they too preferred to stay; and when he invited his own, said they, "We live by tailoring; enough, enough," and refused like the rest.
As he failed to hit off their wishes, he then returned to Benares. Thinking that he would rest from the fatigue of the journey in the house of the Commander-in-chief, before seeing Banyan, he went to that house.
[41] "Tell the Commander-in-chief," said he to the door-keeper, "that his comrade Pottika is here." The man did so. But Branch had conceived a grudge against him, because, quoth he, the man had given his comrade Banyan the kingdom instead of himself; so on hearing this message, he waxed angry. "Comrade indeed! who is his comrade? A mad baseborn churl! seize him!" So they beat him and kicked him, and belaboured him with foot, knee and elbow, then clutching him by the throat cast him forth.
"Branch," thought the man, "gained the post of Commander-in-Chief through me, and now he is ungrateful, and malicious, and has beaten me, and cast me forth. But Banyan is a wise man, grateful and good, and to him I will go." So to the king's door he went, and sent a message to the king, that Pottika his comrade was waiting at the door. The king asked him in, and as he saw him approach, rose up from his seat, and went forth to meet him, and greeted him with affection; he caused him to be shaved and cared for, and adorned with all manner of ornaments, then gave him rich meats of every sort to eat; and this done, sat graciously with him, and enquired after his parents, who as the other informed him refused to come.
Now Branch thought to himself, "Pottika will be slandering me in the king's ear, but if I am by, he will not be able to speak"; so he also repaired thither. And Pottika, even in his presence, spoke to the king saying, "My lord, when I was weary with my journey, I went to Branch's house, hoping to rest there first and then to visit you. But Branch said, "I know him not!" and evil entreated me, and haled me forth by the neck! Could you believe it!" and with these words, he uttered three stanzas of verse:
"'Who is the man? I know him not!
and the man's father, who?
Who is the man?" so Sākha said:—Nigrodha, what think you?
Who is the man?" so Sākha said:—Nigrodha, what think you?
"Then Sākha's men at Sākha's word
dealt buffets on my face,
And seizing me about the throat forth cast me from the place.
"That such a deed in treachery an evil man should do!And seizing me about the throat forth cast me from the place.
An ingrate is a shame, O king—and he your comrade, too!"
[42] On hearing these, Banyan recited four stanzas:
"I know not, nor have ever heard
in speech from any one,
Any such ill as this you tell which Sākha now has done.
With me and Sākha you have lived; we both your comrades were;Any such ill as this you tell which Sākha now has done.
Of empery among mankind you gave us each a share:
We have by thee got majesty, and not a doubt is there.
"As when a seed in fire is cast, it burns, and cannot grow;
Do a good turn to evil men, it perishes even so.
"The grateful, good, and virtuous, such men are not as they;
In good soil seeds, in good men deeds, are never thrown away."
As Banyan was reciting these lines, Branch stood still where he was. Then the king asked him, "Well, Branch, do you recognise this man Pottika?" He was dumb. And the king laid his bidding upon the man in the words of the eighth stanza:
"Seize on this worthless traitor
here, whose thoughts so evil be;
Spear him! for I would have him die—his life is nought to me!"
But Pottika, on hearing this, thought within himself—"Let not
this fool die for my sake!" and uttered the ninth stanza:Spear him! for I would have him die—his life is nought to me!"
[43]
"Great king, have mercy! life once
gone is hard to bring again:
My lord forgive, and let him live! I wish the churl no pain."
When the king heard this, he forgave Branch; and he wished to
bestow the place of Commander-in-chief upon Pottika, but he would not. Then the
king gave him the post of Treasurer, and with it went the judgeship of all the
merchant guilds. Before that no such office had existed, but there was this
office ever after. And by-and-bye Pottika the Royal Treasurer, being blest with
sons and with daughters, uttered the last stanza for their admonition:My lord forgive, and let him live! I wish the churl no pain."
"With Nigrodha one should dwell;
To wait on Sākha is not well.
Better with Nigrodha death
Than with Sākha to draw breath."
To wait on Sākha is not well.
Better with Nigrodha death
Than with Sākha to draw breath."
Footnotes
22:1 Buddha;"he who possesses the ten powers."23:1 In vol. ii. page 2 (page 1 of translation, note 4) it is suggested that this may be a magical rite. It may; but the passage here translated supports a simpler meaning. The word in both cases is gabbhaparihāra. Compare p. 124. 14 below (p. 79 of this. book).
23:2 Lit. partum illuviemque puerperii.
23:3 Lumbos illuvie puerperii inquinavit.
24:1 In No. 284 (ii. p. 280 of this translation) the episode of the cocks has come already.
25:1 Sword, parasol, diadem, slippers, fan.
25:2 No. 539, vol. vi. p. 39.
25:3 After this point he is several times called Pottiya.
No. 446.
TAKKAḶA-JĀTAKA. 1
"No bulbs are here," etc.—This story the Master told at Jetavana about a layman who supported his father.This man we learn was re-born in a needy family. After his mother's death, he used to rise up early in the morning, and prepare the tooth-twigs and water for cleansing the mouth; then by working for hire or ploughing in the fields, he used to procure rice gruel, and thus fed his father in a manner suiting his station in life. Said his father to him, "My son, whatever is to be done indoors and out you do alone. Let me find you a wife, and she shall do the
household work for you."—"Father," says he, "if women come into the house they will bring no peace of mind for me or for you. Pray do not dream of such a thing! While you live, I will support you; [44] and when you pass away, I shall know what to do."
But the father sent for a girl, much against his son's wish; and she looked after her husband and his father; but a low creature she was. Now her husband was pleased with her, for attending upon his father; and whatever he could find to please her, that he brought and gave her; and she presented it to her father-in-law. And there came a time when the woman thought, "Whatever my husband gets, he gives to me, but nothing to his father. It is clear that for his father he cares nothing. I must find some way of setting the old man at variance with my husband, and then I shall get him out of the house." So from that time she began to make the water too cold or too hot for him, and the food she salted too much or not at all, and the rice she served up all hard or else soaking wet; and by this kind of thing did all she could to provoke him. Then, when he grew angry, she scolded: "Who can wait on an old creature like this!" said she, and stirred up strife. And all over the ground she would spit, and then stir up her husband—"Look there!" would she say, "that's your father's doing! I am constantly begging him not to do this and that, and he only gets angry. Either your father must leave this house, or I!" Then the husband answered, "Lady, you are young, and you can live where you will; but my father is an old man. If you don't like him, you can leave the house." This frightened her. She fell at the old man's feet, and craved pardon, promising to do so no more; and began to care for him as before.
The worthy layman was so worried at first by her goings-on that he omitted visiting the Master to hear his discourse; but when she had come to herself again, he went. The Master asked why he had not been to hear his preaching this seven or eight days. The man related what had happened. "This time," said the Master, "you refused to listen to her, and to turn out your father; but in former times you did as she bade; you took him to a cemetery, and dug him a pit. At the time when you were about to kill him I was a seven-year-old, and I by recounting the goodness of parents, held you back from parricide. At that time you listened to me; and by tending your father while he lived became destined for paradise. I admonished you then, and warned you not to forsake him when you should come into another life; for this cause you have now refused to do as the woman bade you, and your father has not been killed." Thus saying, at the man's request, he told a story of the past.
she.—"Say on, then."—"Well, my lord, at break of day, go to the place where your father sleeps; tell him very loud, that all may hear, that a debtor of his is in a certain village, that you went and he would not pay you, and that if he dies the man will never pay at all; and say that you will both drive there together in the morning. Then at the appointed time get up, and put the animals to the cart, and take him in it to the cemetery. When you get there, bury him in a pit, make a noise as if you had been robbed, wound and wash your head, and return." "Yes, that plan will do," said Vasiṭṭhaka. He agreed to her proposal, and got the cart ready for the journey.
Now the man had a son, a lad of seven years, but wise and clever. The lad overheard what his mother said, "My mother, "thought he, "is a wicked woman, and is trying to persuade father to murder his father. I will prevent my father from doing this murder." He ran quickly, and lay down beside his grandsire. Vasiṭṭhaka, at the time suggested by the wife, prepared the cart. "Come, father, let us get that debt!" said he, and placed his father in the cart. But the boy got in first of all. [46] Vasiṭṭhaka could not prevent him, so he took him to the cemetery with them. Then, placing his father and his son together in a place apart, with the cart, he got down, took spade and basket, and in a spot where he was hidden from them began to dig a square hole. The boy got down, and followed him, and as though ignorant what was afoot, opened a conversation by repeating the first stanza:
"No bulbs are here, no herbs for
cooking meet,
No catmint, nor no other plant to eat.
Then father, why this pit, if need be none,
Delve in Death's acre mid the woods alone?"
Then his father answered by repeating the second stanza:No catmint, nor no other plant to eat.
Then father, why this pit, if need be none,
Delve in Death's acre mid the woods alone?"
"Thy grandsire, son, is very weak
and old,
Opprest by pain from ailments manifold:
Him will I bury in a pit to-day;
In such a life I could not wish him stay."
Hearing this, the boy answered by repeating a half-stanza:Opprest by pain from ailments manifold:
Him will I bury in a pit to-day;
In such a life I could not wish him stay."
"Thou hast done sinfully in
wishing this,
And for the deed, a cruel deed it is."
With these words, he caught the spade from his father's hands, and
at no great distance began to dig another pit.And for the deed, a cruel deed it is."
[47] His father approaching asked why he dug that pit; to whom he made reply by finishing the third stanza:
"I too, when thou art aged, father
mine,
Will treat my father as thou treatest thine;
Following the custom of the family
Deep in a pit I too will bury thee."
Will treat my father as thou treatest thine;
Following the custom of the family
Deep in a pit I too will bury thee."
To this the father replied by repeating the fourth stanza:
"What a harsh saying for a boy to
say,
And to upbraid a father in this way!
To think that my own son should rail at me,
And to his truest friend unkind should be!"
When the father had thus spoken, the wise lad recited three
stanzas, one by way of answer, and two as an holy hymn:And to upbraid a father in this way!
To think that my own son should rail at me,
And to his truest friend unkind should be!"
"I am not harsh, my father, nor
unkind,
Nay, I regard thee with a friendly mind:
But this thou dost, this act of sin, thy son
Will have no strength to undo again, once done.
"Whoso, Vasiṭṭha, hurts with
ill intentNay, I regard thee with a friendly mind:
But this thou dost, this act of sin, thy son
Will have no strength to undo again, once done.
His mother or his father, innocent,
He, when the body is dissolved, shall be
In hell for his next life undoubtedly.
"Whoso with meat and drink, Vasiṭṭha, shall
His mother or his father feed withal,
[48] He, when the body is dissolved, shall be
In heaven for his next life undoubtedly."
The father, after hearing his son thus discourse; repeated the eighth stanza:
"Thou art no heartless ingrate,
son, I see,
But kindly-hearted, O my son, to me;
Twas in obedience to thy mother's word
I thought to do this horrid deed abhorred."
Said the lad, when he heard this, "Father, women, when a
wrong is done and they are not rebuked, again and again commit sin. You must
bend my mother, that she may never again do such a deed as this." And he
repeated the ninth stanza:But kindly-hearted, O my son, to me;
Twas in obedience to thy mother's word
I thought to do this horrid deed abhorred."
"That wife of yours, that
ill-conditioned dame,
My mother, she that brought me forth—that same,
Let us from out our dwelling far expel,
Lest she work other woe on thee as well."
Hearing the words of his wise son, well pleased was Vasiṭṭhaka,
and saying, "Let us go, my son!" he seated himself in the cart with
son and father.My mother, she that brought me forth—that same,
Let us from out our dwelling far expel,
Lest she work other woe on thee as well."
Now the woman too, this sinner, was happy at heart; for, thought she, this ill-luck is out of the house now. She plastered the place with wet cowdung, and cooked a mess of rice porridge. But as she sat watching the road by which they would return, she espied them coming. "There he is, back with old ill-luck again!" thought she, much in anger. "Fie, good-for-nothing!" cried she, "what, bring back the ill-luck you took away with you!" Vasiṭṭhaka said not a word, but unyoked the cart.
Then said he, "Wretch, what is that you say?" He gave her a sound drubbing, and bundled her head over heels out of doors, bidding her never darken his door again. Then he bathed his father and his son, and took a bath himself, [49] and the three of them ate the rice porridge. The sinful woman dwelt for a few days in another house.
Then the son said to his father: "Father, for all this my mother does not understand. Now let us try to vex her. You give out that in such and such a village lives a niece of yours, who will attend upon your father and your son and you; so you will go and fetch her. Then take flowers and perfumes, and get into your cart, and ride about the country all day, returning in the evening." And so he did. The women in the neighbour's family told his wife this;—"Have you heard," said they, "that your husband has gone to get another wife in such a place?" "Ah, then I am undone!" quoth she, "and there is no place for me left!" But she would enquire of her son; so quickly she came to him, and fell at his feet, crying—"Save thee I have no other refuge! Henceforward I will tend your father and grandsire as I would tend a beauteous shrine! Give me entrance into this house once more!" "Yes, mother," replied the lad, "if you do no more as you did, I will; be of good cheer!" and at his father's coming he repeated the tenth stanza:
"That wife of yours, that
ill-conditioned dame,
My mother, she that brought me forth,—that same,—
Like a tamed elephant, in full control,
Let her return again, that sinful soul."
So said he to his father, and then went and summoned his mother.
She, being reconciled to her husband and the husband's father, was
thenceforward tamed, and endued with righteousness, and watched over her
husband and his father and her son; and these two, stedfastly following their
son's advice, gave alms and did good deeds, and became destined to join the
hosts of heaven.My mother, she that brought me forth,—that same,—
Like a tamed elephant, in full control,
Let her return again, that sinful soul."
Footnotes
27:1 This is a variant of a famous story, known as the Housse Partie. See Clouston, Popular Tales and Fictions, "The ungrateful son" (ii. 372); Jacques de Vitry's Exempla (Folk Lore Society, 1890), No. 288, with bibliographical note on p. 260.No. 447.
MAHĀ-DHAMMA-PĀLA-JĀTAKA. 1
"What custom is it," etc.—This story the Master told, after his first visit (as Buddha) to Kapilapura, while he lodged in his father's Banyan Grove, about the King his father's refusal to believe.At the time, they say that the great King Suddhodana, having given a meal of rice gruel at his own dwelling to the Buddha at the head of twenty thousand Brethren, during the meal talked pleasantly to him, saying, "Sir, at the time of your striving 2, came some deities to me, and poised in the air, said, "Your son, Prince Siddhattha, has died of starvation." And the Master replied, "Did you believe it, great King?"—"Sir, I did not believe it! Even when the deities came hovering in the air, and told me this, I refused to believe it, saying that there was no death for my son until he had obtained Buddhahood at the foot of the bo-tree." Said the Master, "Great King, long ago in the time of the great Dhammapāla, even when a world-famed teacher said—"Your son is dead, these are his bones," you refused to believe, answering, "In our family, they never die young"; then why should you believe now?" and at his father's request, the Master told a tale of long ago.
At that time the Bodhisatta came to life in that household, and to him they gave the name of Dhammapāla-Kumāra, or Lawkeeper the Younger. So soon as he came of age, his father gave him a thousand pieces, and sent him to study at Takkasilā. Thither he went, and studied with a world-famed teacher, and became the chief pupil in a company of five hundred youths.
Just then died the eldest son of the teacher; and the teacher, [51] surrounded by his pupils, in the midst of his kith and kin, weeping did the lad's obsequies in the cemetery. Then the teacher with his company of kinsfolk, and all his pupils, were weeping and wailing, but Dhammapāla only neither wept nor wailed. When afterwards the five hundred youths had returned from the cemetery, they sat down in their teacher's presence,
and said, "Ah, so fine a lad, so good, a tender child, to be cut off in his tender age and parted from father and mother!" Dhammapāla replied, "Tender indeed, as you say! Well, why did he die at a tender age? ’Tis not right that children of tender age should die." Then they said to him, "Why, Sir, do you not know that such persons are but mortal?"—"I know it; but in tender years they die not; people die when they are grown old."—"Then are not all component things transitory and unreal?" "Transitory they are, it is true; but in the days of youth creatures do not die; it is only when they are grown old that they die."—"Oh, is that the custom of your family?"—"Yes, that is the custom in my family." The lads told this conversation to their teacher. He sent for Dhammapāla, and asked him, "Is it true, Dhammapāla, my son, that in your family they do not die young?" "Yes, teacher," said he, "it is true."
On hearing this, the teacher thought, "This is a most marvellous thing he says! I will make a journey to his father, and ask him about it; and if it be true, I will live according to his rule of right."
So when he had finished for his son all that should be done, after lapse of seven or eight days he sent for Dhammapāla, and said, "My son, I am going away from home; while I am away, you are to instruct these my pupils." So saying, [52] he procured the bones of a wild goat, washed them and scented them, and put them in a bag; then taking with him a little page-boy, he left Takkasilā, and in course of time arrived at that village. There he enquired his way to Mahā-dhammapāla's house, and stopped at the door.
The first servant of the brahmin who saw him, whoever it was, took the sunshade from his hand, and took his shoes, and took the bag from the servant. He bade them tell the lad's father, here was the teacher of his son Dhammapāla the Younger, standing at the door. "Good," said the servants, and summoned the father to him. Quickly he came to the threshold, and "Come in!" said he, leading the way into his house. Seating the visitor upon a couch, he did a host's duty by washing his feet, and so forth.
When the teacher had eaten food, and they sat down for a kindly talk together, said he, "Brahmin, your son young Dhammapāla, when full of wisdom, and a perfect master of the Three Vedas and the Eighteen Accomplishments, by an unhappy chance has lost his life. All component things are transitory; grieve not for him!" The brahmin clapt his hands, and laughed loudly. "Why do you laugh, brahmin?" asked the other. "Because," said he, "it is not my son who is dead; it must be some other." "No, brahmin," was the answer, "your son is dead, and no other. Look on his bones, and believe." So saying, he unwrapt the bones. "These are your son's bones," said he."A wild goat's bones, perhaps," quoth
the other, "or a dog's; but my son is not dead. In our family for seven generations no such thing has been, as a death in tender years; and you are speaking falsehood." Then they all clapt their hands, and laughed aloud.
The teacher, when he beheld this wonderful thing, was much pleased, and said, "Brahmin, this custom in your family line cannot be without cause, that the young do not die. Why is it then that you do not die young?" And he asked his question by repeating the first stanza:
"What custom is it, or what holy
way,
Of what good deed is this the fruit, I pray?
Tell me, O Brahmin, what the reason is,
Why in your line the young die never—say!"
[53] Then the brahmin, to explain what virtues had the result that
in his family no one died young, repeated the following stanzas:Of what good deed is this the fruit, I pray?
Tell me, O Brahmin, what the reason is,
Why in your line the young die never—say!"
"We walk in uprightness, we speak
no lies,
All foul and wicked sins we keep afar,
We do eschew all things that evil are,
Therefore in youth not one among us dies.
"We hear the deeds of foolish and of wise;All foul and wicked sins we keep afar,
We do eschew all things that evil are,
Therefore in youth not one among us dies.
Of what the foolish do no heed we take,
The wise we follow, and the fools forsake;
Therefore in youth not one among us dies.
"In gifts beforehand our contentment lies; 1
Even while giving we are well content;
Nor having given, do we then repent:
Therefore in youth not one among us dies.
"Priests, brahmins, wayfarers we satisfy,
Beggars, and mendicants, and all who need,
We give them drink, and hungry folk we feed:
Therefore the young among us do not die.
"Wedded, for others' wives we do not sigh,
But we are faithful to the marriage vow;
And faithful are our wives to us, I trow:
Therefore the young among us do not die.
"The children that from these true wives are sprung
Are wise abundantly, to learning bred,
Versed in the Vedas, and all perfected;
Therefore none dies of us while he is young.
"Each to do right for sake of heaven tries:
So lives the father, and so lives the mother,
So son and daughter, sister so and brother:
Therefore no one of us when youthful dies.
"For sake of heaven our servants too apply
Their lives to goodness, men and maidens all,
[54] Retainers, servitors, each meanest thrall:
Therefore the young among us do not die."
And lastly, by these two stanzas he declared the goodness of those who walk in righteousness:
"Righteousness saves him that
thereto is bent; 1
Righteousness practised well brings happiness;
Them that do righteously this boon doth bless—
The righteous comes not into punishment.
[55]"Righteousness saves the righteous, as a shadeRighteousness practised well brings happiness;
Them that do righteously this boon doth bless—
The righteous comes not into punishment.
Saves in the time of rain: the lad still lives.
Goodness to Dhammapāla safety gives;
Some other's bones are these you have conveyed."
On hearing this, the teacher replied: "A happy journey is this journey of mine, fruitful, not without fruit!" Then full of happiness, he begged pardon of Dhammapāla's father, and added, "I came hither, and brought with me these wild goat's bones, on purpose to try you. Your son is safe and well. I pray you, impart to me your rule of preserving life." Then the other wrote it upon a leaf; and after tarrying in that place some few days, he returned to Takkasilā, and having instructed Dhammapāla in all branches of skill and learning, he dismissed him with a great troop of followers.
Footnotes
32:1 Compare Mahāvastu, No. 19. The Dhammapāla in Avadāna Çātaka, p. 122, is different.32:2 The six years of austerities practised by the Buddha, before he found the peace of Buddhahood.
34:1 This stanza occurs in vol. iii. p. 300 (Pali).
No. 448.
KUKKUṬA-JĀTAKA.
"Trust not in those," etc. This story the Master told in the Bamboo Grove, on the subject of going about to kill. In the Hall of Truth, the Brethren were discussing the evil nature of Devadatta. "Why, Sir, by suborning archers and others to the task, Devadatta is making an attempt to murder the Dasabala!" [56] The Master, entering, enquired, "What is this, Brethren, that ye speak ofas ye sit here together?" They told him. Said he, "’Tis not now the first time that he has tried to murder me, but it was the same before" ; and he told them a story of the past.
Then he alighted on a branch hard by, and called out, "Worthy Fowl, what makes you fear me? I am anxious to make friends with you. Now in such a place (naming it) is food in plenty; let us feed there together, and live like friends in company."—"No, good Sir," replied the Bodhisatta, "betwixt you and me no friendship can ever be; so begone!"—"Good Sir, for my former sins you cannot trust me now; but I promise that I will never do so again!"—"No, I care not for such a friend; begone, I say!" Again for the third time the Bodhisatta refused: "With a creature of such qualities," quoth he, "friendship there must never be"; and he made the wide woods resound, the deities applauding as he uttered this discourse:
"Trust not in those whose words
are lies, nor those who only know
Self-interest, nor who have sinned, nor who too-pious show.
"Some men have nature like the kine, thirsty and full of
greed:Self-interest, nor who have sinned, nor who too-pious show.
Have words in truth a friend to soothe, but never come to deed.
"These hold out dry and empty hands; the voice conceals their heart;
From those who know not gratitude (vain creatures!) keep apart.
[57] "Put not thy trust in woman or in man of fickle mind,
Nor such as having made a pact to break it are inclined.
"The man who walks in evil ways, to all things threatening death,
Unstedfast, put no trust in him, like keenest sword in sheath.
"Some speak smooth words that come not from the heart, and try to please
With many a show of friendship feigned: put not thy trust in these.
"When such an evil-minded man beholds or food or gain,
He works all ill, and go he will, but first will be thy bane."
[58] These seven stanzas were repeated by the King of the Fowls. Then were the four stanzas following recited by the King of the Faith, words inspired by a Buddha's insight:
"In friendly show full many a foe
follows, his aid to give;
As the Fowl left the Falcon, so ’twere best bad men to leave.
"Who is not quick to recognise the meaning of events,As the Fowl left the Falcon, so ’twere best bad men to leave.
Under his foes' control he goes, and afterward repents.
"Whoso the meaning of events is quick to recognise,
As from the Falcon's toils the Fowl, so from his foes he flies.
"From such inevitable and treacherous snare,
Deadly, set deep mid many a forest tree,
As from the Falcon far the Fowl did flee,
The man of seeing eye afar should fare."
Footnotes
35:1 These four lines occur in the Life of Buddha which is prefixt to the Jātaka, vol. i. p. 31 (Pali), not in the present translation (Rhys Davids, Buddhist Birth Stories, p. 34). Compare also Dhammapada, p. 126; Theragāthā, p. 35.36:1 A city on the Ganges.
No. 449.
MAṬṬA-KUṆḌALI-JĀTAKA. 1
"Why in the woodland," etc. This story the Master told while sojourning in Jetavana, about a landowner whose son had died. At Sāvatthi, we learn that death took a beloved son of a certain landowner who used to wait upon the Buddha. Afflicted with grief for his son, the man washed not and ate not, and neither went about his own business nor waited upon the Buddha, only cried, "O my beloved son, thou hast left me, and gone before!"As in the morning time the Master was looking abroad upon the world, he perceived that this man was ripe for attaining the Fruit of the First Path. So next day, having led his followers through the city of Sāvatthi in search of alms, after his meal was done, he sent the Brethren away, and attended by Elder Ānanda walked to the place where this man lived. They told the landowner that the Master had come. Then they of his household prepared a seat, and
made the Master sit down upon it, and led the landowner into the Master's presence. Him after greeting, as he sat on one side, the Master addressed in a voice tender with compassion: "Do you mourn, lay Brother, for an only son?" He answered, "Yes, Sir." Said the Master, "Long, long ago, lay Brother, wise men who went about afflicted with grief for a son's death, listened to the words of the wise, and clearly discerning that nothing could bring back the lost, yet felt no grief, no not even a little." So saying, at his request the Master told a story of the past.
"Why in the woodland art thou
standing here,
Begarlanded, with earrings in each ear,
Fragrant of sandal, holding out thy hands?
What sorrow makes thee drop the falling tear?"
And then the youth told his tale by repeating the second stanza:Begarlanded, with earrings in each ear,
Fragrant of sandal, holding out thy hands?
What sorrow makes thee drop the falling tear?"
"Made of fine gold, and shining
brilliantly
My chariot is, wherein I use to lie:
For this a pair of wheels I cannot find;
Therefore I grieve so sore that I must die!"
The brahmin listened, and repeated the third stanza:My chariot is, wherein I use to lie:
For this a pair of wheels I cannot find;
Therefore I grieve so sore that I must die!"
"Golden, or set with jewels, any
kind,
Brazen or silvern, that thou hast in mind,
Speak but the word, a chariot shall be made,
And I thereto a pair of wheels will find!"
Now the Master himself, in his perfect wisdom, having heard the
stanza repeated by the young man, repeated the first line of another—Brazen or silvern, that thou hast in mind,
Speak but the word, a chariot shall be made,
And I thereto a pair of wheels will find!"
"The brahmin youth replied, when
he had done";
while the young man repeats the remainder:[61]
"Brothers up yonder are the moon
and sun!
By such a pair of wheels as yonder twain
My golden car new radiance hath won!"
By such a pair of wheels as yonder twain
My golden car new radiance hath won!"
And immediately after:
"Thou art a fool for this that
thou hast done,
To pray for that which should be craved by none;
Methinks, young sir, thou needs must perish soon,
For thou wilt never get or moon or sun!"
Then—To pray for that which should be craved by none;
Methinks, young sir, thou needs must perish soon,
For thou wilt never get or moon or sun!"
"Before our eyes they set and
rise, colour and course unfailing:
None sees a ghost: then which is now more foolish in his wailing?"
So said the youth; and the brahmin, comprehending, repeated a
stanza:None sees a ghost: then which is now more foolish in his wailing?"
"Of us two mourners, O most
sapient youth,
I am the greater fool—thou sayest truth,
In craving for a spirit from the dead,
Like a child crying for the moon, in sooth!"
Then the brahmin, consoled by the youth's words, rendered thanks
to him by reciting the remaining stanzas:I am the greater fool—thou sayest truth,
In craving for a spirit from the dead,
Like a child crying for the moon, in sooth!"
"Blazing was I, as when a man
pours oil upon a fire:
Thou didst bring water, and didst quench the pain of my desire.
[62] "Grief for my son—a cruel shaft was lodged within my
heart;Thou didst bring water, and didst quench the pain of my desire.
Thou hast consoled me for my grief, and taken out the dart.
"That dart extracted, free from pain, tranquil and calm I keep;
Hearing, O youth, thy words of truth no more I grieve, nor weep 1."
Then said the youth, "I am that son, brahmin, for whom you weep; I have been born in the world of gods. Henceforward grieve not for me, but give alms and observe virtue, and keep the holy fast-day." With this admonition, he departed to his own place. And the brahmin abode by his advice; and after much almsgiving and other good deeds, he died, and was born in the world of gods.
Footnotes
37:1 The story is given in Dhammapada, p. 93, where the name is Maddhakuṇḍalī.39:1 These stanzas recur in iii. 157 (trans. p. 104), 215 (p. 141), 390 (p. 236), Dhammapada, p. 96.
No. 450.
BIḶĀRI-KOSIYA-JĀTAKA.
"When food is not," etc. This story the Master told, while dwelling at Jetavana, about a Brother who was devoted to giving.This man, we are told, having heard the preaching of the Law, from the time when he embraced the Doctrine was devoted to giving, eager for giving. Never a bowl-full he ate unless he shared it with another; even water he would not drink, unless he gave of it to another: so absorbed was he in giving.
Then they began to talk of his good qualities in the Hall of Truth. Entered the Master, and asked what they talked of as they sat there. They told him. Sending for the Brother, he asked him, "Is it true, what I hear, Brother, that you are devoted to giving, eager to give?" He replied, "Yes, Sir." Said the Master, "Long ago, Brethren, this man was without faith and unbelieving; not so much as a drop of oil on the end of a blade of grass did he give to any one; then I humbled him, and converted him and made him humble, and taught him the fruit of giving; and this gift-lief heart of his does not leave him even in another life. "So saying, he told a story of the past 1.
One day, as he reviewed his wealth, thought he, "My wealth is here, sure enough, [63] but where are those who gathered it? I must disperse my wealth, and give alms. "So he built an almonry, and while he lived distributed much alms; and when his days were drawing to a close, charging his son not to discontinue the practice of almsgiving, he was born again as Sakka in the Heaven of the Thirty-three. And the son gave alms as his father had given, and with the like charge to his son, was born as Canda, the Moon, among the gods. And his son became Suriya, the Sun, who begat another that became Mātali the Charioteer 2, and his son was born again as Pañcasikha, one of the Gandhabbas, or celestial musicians. But the sixth of the line was without faith, hardhearted, loveless, niggardly; and he demolished the almonry, burnt it, beat the beggars and sent them about their business; gave no one so much as an oildrop on the end of a blade of grass.
Then Sakka, king of the gods, looked back over his doings in the past, wondering, "Does my tradition of almsgiving continue or no?" Pondering he perceived this: "My son continued the giving, and he is become Canda; and his son is Suriya, and his son is Mātali, and his son has
been born as Pañcasikha; but the sixth in line has broken the tradition." Then this thought occurred to him; he would go humble that man of sin, and teach him the fruit of giving. So he summoned to him Canda, Suriya, Mātali, Pañcasikha, and said, "Sirs, the sixth in our line has broken our family tradition; he has burnt the almonry, the beggars he has driven away; he gives nothing to any one. Then let us humble him!" So with them he proceeded to Benares.
At that moment the merchant had been to wait upon the king, and having returned, was walking to and fro under the seventh gate-tower 1, looking along the road. Sakka said to the others, "Do you wait until I go in, and then follow one after another." With these words he went forward, and standing before the rich merchant, said to him, "Ho, Sir! give me to eat!"—"There is nothing to eat for you here, brahmin; go elsewhere."—"Ho, great Sir! when brahmins ask for food, [64] it must not be refused them!"—"In my house, brahmin, is neither food cooked nor food ready for cooking; away with you!"—"Great Sir, I will repeat to you a verse of poetry,—listen." Said he, "I want none of your poetry; get you gone, and do not keep standing here." But Sakka, without attending to his words, recited two stanzas:
"When food is not within the pot,
the good would get, and not deny:
And thou art cooking! ’twere not good, if thou wouldst now no food supply
"He who remiss and niggard is, ever to give denies;And thou art cooking! ’twere not good, if thou wouldst now no food supply
But he who virtue loves, must give, and he whose mind is wise."
When the man had heard this, he answered, "Well, come in and sit down; and you shall have a little." Sakka entered, repeating these verses, and sat down.
Next came Canda up, and asked for food. "There's no food for you," said the man, "go away!" He replied, "Great Sir, there is one brahmin seated within; there must be a free meal for a brahmin, I suppose, so I will enter too." "There is no free meal for a brahmin!" said the man; "be off with you!" Then Canda said, "Great Sir, please do listen to a verse or two," and repeated two stanzas: (whenever a terrified niggard gives to none, that very thing that he fears comes to him as he gives not 2:)—
"When fear of hunger or of thirst
makes niggard souls afraid,
In this world and the next those fools shall fully be repaid.
"Therefore give alms, flee covetise, purge filth of greed
away,In this world and the next those fools shall fully be repaid.
In the next world men's virtuous deeds shall be their surest stay."
[65] Having listened to these words also, the man said, "Well, come in, and you shall have a little." In he came, and took a seat with Sakka.
After waiting a little while, Suriya came up, and asked for food by repeating two stanzas:
"’Tis hard to do as good men do,
to give as they can give,
Bad men can hardly imitate the life that good men live.
"And so, when good and evil go to pass away from earth,Bad men can hardly imitate the life that good men live.
The bad are born in hell below, in heaven the good have birth 1."
The rich man, not seeing any way out of it, said to him, "Well, come in and sit down with these brahmins, and you shall have a little." And Mātali, after waiting a little while, came up and asked for food; and when he was told there was no food, as soon as the words were spoken, repeated the seventh stanza:
"Some give from little, some give
not though they have plenteous store:
Who gives from little, if he gave a thousand, twere no more."
[66] To him also the man said, "Well, come in and sit
down." Then after waiting a little while, Pañcasikha came up and asked for
food. "There's none, go away," was the reply. Said he, "What a
number of places I have visited! There must be a free meal for brahmins here,
methinks!" And he began to hold forth to him, repeating the eighth stanza:Who gives from little, if he gave a thousand, twere no more."
"Even he who lives on scraps
should righteous be,
Giving from little store, though sons have he;
The hundred thousand which the wealthy give,
Are worth not one small gift from such as he."
The rich man pondered, on hearing the speech of Pañcasikha. Then
he repeated the ninth stanza, to ask an explanation of the little worth of such
gifts:Giving from little store, though sons have he;
The hundred thousand which the wealthy give,
Are worth not one small gift from such as he."
"Why is a rich and generous
sacrifice
Not equal to a righteous gift in price,
How is a thousand, which the wealthy gives,
Not worth a poor man's gift, tho’ small in size?"
[67] In reply, Pañcasikha recited the concluding stanza:Not equal to a righteous gift in price,
How is a thousand, which the wealthy gives,
Not worth a poor man's gift, tho’ small in size?"
"Some who
in evil ways do live
Oppress, and slay, then comfort give:
Their cruel sour-faced gifts are less
Than any given with righteousness.
Thus not a thousand from the wealthy can
Equal the little gift of such a man."
Having listened to the admonition of Pañcasikha, he replied,
"Well, go indoors and be seated; you shall have a little." And he too
entered, and sat with the rest.Oppress, and slay, then comfort give:
Their cruel sour-faced gifts are less
Than any given with righteousness.
Thus not a thousand from the wealthy can
Equal the little gift of such a man."
Then the rich merchant Biḷārikosiya, beckoning to a maidservant, said to her, "Give yonder Brahmins a measure apiece of rice in the husk."
She brought the rice, and approaching them, bade them bake it, and get it cooked somewhere, and eat. "We never touch rice in the husk," said they.—"Master, they say that they never touch rice in the husk!"—"Well, give them husked rice." She brought them husked rice, and bade them take it. Said they, "We accept nothing that is uncooked." "Master, they accept nothing that is uncooked!"—"Then cook them some cows' food in a pot, and give them that." She cooked in a pot a mess of cows' food, and brought it to them. All the five of them took up each a mouthful, and put it into their mouths, but let it stick in the throat; then rolling their eyes, they became unconscious, and lay as though dead. The serving-maid seeing this thought they must be dead, and much afraid went and told the merchant, saying, "Master, those brahmins could not swallow the cows' food, [68] and they are dead!" Thought he, "Now people will upbraid me, saying, This lewd fellow gave a mess of cows' food to delicate brahmins, which they could not swallow, and they died!" Then he said to the maid, "Go quickly, take away the food from their bowls, and cook them a mess of all sorts of the finest rice." She did so. The merchant fetched in the passers-by from the road within, and when he had gathered a number of them together he said, "I gave these brahmins food after my own manner of eating, and they were greedy and made great lumps, and so as they ate, the food stuck in the throat, and they are dead. I call you to witness that I am guiltless." Before the crowd thus gathered together the brahmins arose, and said, looking upon the multitude, "Behold the deceitfulness of this merchant! He gave us of his own food, quoth he! A mess of cow's food is all he gave us at first, and then while we lay as dead, he caused this food to be prepared." And they cast forth from their mouths the food which they had taken, and showed it. The crowd upbraided the merchant, crying, "Blind fool! you have broken the custom of your family; you have burnt the alms-hall; the beggars you have taken by the throat and cast forth; and now when you were giving food to these delicate brahmins, all you gave was a mess of cows' food! As you go to the other world, I suppose you will carry the wealth of your house fast about your neck!"
At this moment, Sakka asked the crowd, "Do you know whose is the wealth of this house?" "We know not," they replied. Said he, "You have heard tell of a great merchant of Benares, who lived in this city once upon a time, and built halls of almonry, and in charity gave much?" "Yes," said they," "we have heard of him." "I am that merchant," he said, "and by those gifts I am now become Sakka, king of the gods; and my son, who did not break my tradition, has become a god, Canda; and his son is Suriya, and his son is Mātali, and his son is Pañcasikha; of these, yonder is Canda, and that is Suriya, and this is Mātali the charioteer, and this again [69] is Pañcasikha, now a heavenly musician, once father of
yonder lewd fellow! Thus potent is giving of gifts; therefore wise men ought to do virtuously." Thus speaking, with a view to dispelling the doubts of the people there assembled, they rose up in the air, and remained poised, by their mighty power surrounding themselves with a great host, their bodies all ablaze, so that the whole city seemed to be on fire. Then Sakka addressed the crowd: "We left our heavenly glory in coming hither, and we came on account of this sinner Biḷārikosiya, this last of his race, the devourer of all his race. In pity for him are we come, because we knew that this sinner had broken the tradition of his family, and burnt the almonry, and haled forth the beggars by the throat, and had violated our custom, and that by ceasing to give alms he would be born again in hell." Thus did he discourse to the crowd, telling the potency of almsgiving. Biḷārikosiya put his hands together in supplication, and made a vow; "My lord, from this time forth I will no more break the family custom, but I will distribute alms; and beginning from this very day, I will never eat, without sharing with another my own supplies, even the water I drink and the tooth-cleaner which I use."
Sakka having thus humbled him, and made him self-denying, and established him in the Five Virtues, went away to his own place, taking the four gods with him. And the merchant gave alms as long as he lived, and was born in the heaven of the Thirty-Three.
Footnotes
40:1 Part of this tale occurs in No. 313, vol. iii.40:2 i.e. of Sakka, or Indra.
41:1 Cf. Hardy's Manual, p. 270.
41:2 This seems to be a gloss.
42:1 These stanzas occur in ii. p. 86 (p. 59 of the English translation).
No. 451.
CAKKA-VĀKA-JĀTAKA. 1
[70]"Fine-coloured art thou," etc.—This story the Master told while dwelling in Jetavana, about a greedy Brother. This man, it is said, dissatisfied with his mendicant's garb and so forth, used to march about asking, "Where is there a meal for the Order? where is there an invitation?" and when he heard mentionof meat, he showed great delight. Then some well-meaning Brethren, from kindness towards him, told the Master about it. The Master summoning him, asked, "Is it true, Brother, as I hear, that you are greedy?" "Yes, my lord, it is true," said he. "Brother," said the Master, "why are you greedy, after embracing a faith like ours, that leads to salvation? The state of greed is sinful; long ago, by reason of greed, you were not satisfied with the dead bodies of elephants and other offal in Benares, and went away into the mighty forest." So saying, he told a story of the past.
"Fine-coloured art thou, fair of
form, all plump in body, red of hue,
O Goose! I swear thou art most fair, thy face and senses clear and true!
"A-sitting on the Ganges' bank thou feedest on the pike and
bream,O Goose! I swear thou art most fair, thy face and senses clear and true!
Roach, carp, and all the other fish that swim along the Ganges' stream 2!"
The Red Goose contradicted him by reciting the third stanza:
[71]
"No bodies from the tide I eat,
nor lying in the wood:
All kinds of weed—on them I feed; that, friend, is all my food."
Then the Crow recited two stanzas:All kinds of weed—on them I feed; that, friend, is all my food."
"I cannot credit what the Goose
avers about his meat.
Things in the village soused with salt and oil are what I eat,
"A mess of rice, all clean and nice, which a man makes and
poursThings in the village soused with salt and oil are what I eat,
Upon his meat; but yet, my colour, Goose, is not like yours."
Thereupon the Ruddy Goose recited to him the remaining stanzas showing forth the reason of his ugly colour, and declaring righteousness:
"Beholding sin your heart within,
destroying humankind,
In fear and fright your food you eat; therefore this hue you find.
"Crow, you have erred in all the world by sins of former
lives,In fear and fright your food you eat; therefore this hue you find.
You have no pleasure in your food; ’tis this your colour gives.
"But, friend, I eat and do no hurt, not anxious, at my ease,
Having no trouble, fearing nought from any enemies.
"Thus you should do, and mighty
grow, renounce your evil ways,
Walk in the world and do no hurt; then all will love and praise.
"Who to all creatures kindly is, nor wounds nor makes to
wound,Walk in the world and do no hurt; then all will love and praise.
Who harries not, none harry him, gainst him no hate is found."
[72] "Therefore if you wish to be beloved by the world, abstain from all evil passions;" so said the Ruddy Goose, declaring righteousness. The Crow replied, "Don't prate to me of your manner of feeding!" and crying "Caw! Caw!" flew away through the air to the dunghill of Benares.
Footnotes
44:1 Cf. No. 434, vol. iii.45:1 cakkavāko, Anas Casarca.
45:2 The fish named are: pāvusa, vālaja, muñja, rohita (Cyprinus Rohita), and pāṭhīna (Silvans Boalis).
No. 452.
BHŪRI-PAÑHA-JĀTAKA.
"Is’t true, indeed," etc.—This Bhūri-pañha Birth will appear in the Ummagga Birth 1.No. 453.
MAHĀ-MAṄGALA-JĀTAKA.
"Declare the truth," etc. This story the Master told while dwelling in Jetavana, about the Mahā-maṅgala Scripture, or the Treatise on Omens 2. At the city of Rājagaha for some cause or another a great company had gathered in the royal resting-house, and among these was a man who got up, and went out, with the words, "This is a day of good omen." Some one else heard it, and said, "Yon fellow has gone out talking of "omens"; what does he mean by omen?" Said a third, "The sight of anything with a lucky look is a good omen; suppose a manrise betimes and see a perfectly white bull, or a woman with child, or a red fish 1, or a jar filled to the brim, or new-melted ghee of cow's-milk, or a new unwashen garment, or rice porridge, there is no omen better than these." Some of the bystanders commended this explanation; "Well put," said they. But another [73] broke in, "No, there's no omen in those; what you hear is the omen. A man hears people saying "Full," then he hears "Full-grown" or "Growing," or he hears them say "Eat" or "Chew": there's no omen better than these." Some bystanders said, "Well put," and commended this explanation. Another said, "There's no omen in all that; what you touch 2 is the omen. If a man gets up early, and touches the earth, or touches green grass, fresh cow-dung, a clean robe, a red fish, gold or silver, food, there's no better omen than these." And here too some of the bystanders approved, and said it was well put. And then the partisans of omens of sight, omens of sound, omens of touch formed into three groups, and were unable to convince one another. From the deities of the earth to Brahma's heaven none could say exactly what an omen was. Sakka thought, "Among gods and men no one but the Blessed One is able to solve this question of the omens. To the Blessed One I will go, and put the question to him." So at night he paid a visit to the Blessed One, and greeted him, and placing his hands together in supplication, he put the question beginning, "Many gods and men there be." Then the Master in twelve stanzas told him the eight-and-thirty great omens. And as he repeated the omen-scriptures one after another, gods to the number of ten thousand millions attained to sainthood, and of those who entered the other three Paths there is no counting. When Sakka had heard the omens he returned to his own place. When the Master had told the omens, the world of men and the world of gods approved, and said, "Well put."
Then in the Hall of Truth they began to discuss the virtues of the Tathāgata: "Sirs, the Omen Problem was beyond the scope of others, but he comprehended the hearts of men and of gods, and solved their doubt, as if he were making the moon rise in the sky! Ah, very wise is the Tathāgata, my friends!" The Master entering asked what they were talking of, as they sat there. They told him. Said he, "It is no marvel, Brethren, that I solved the problem of the omens now that I am possessed of perfect wisdom; but even when I walked on earth as Bodhisatta, I solved the doubts of men and of gods, by answering the Omen Problem." So saying, he told a story of the past.
One day, these ascetics, approaching the Bodhisatta, thus addressed him: "Teacher, when the rainy season comes, let us go down from Himalaya, and traverse the country side to get salt and seasoning; thus
our bodies will become strong, and we shall have performed our pilgrimage." "Well, you may go," said he, "but I will abide where I am." So they took leave of him, and went down from Himalaya, and proceeded on their rounds till they came to Benares, where they took up their dwelling in the king's park. And much honour and hospitality was shown to them.
Now one day there was a great crowd come together in the royal rest-house at Benares, and the Omen Problem was discussed. All must be understood to happen as in the introduction to this story. Then, as before, the crowd saw no one who could allay the doubts of men and solve the problem of the omens; so they repaired to the park, and put their problem to the body of sages. The sages addressed the king, saying, "Great King, we cannot solve this question, but our Teacher, the hermit Rakkhita, a most wise man, dwells in Himalaya; he will solve the question, for he comprehends the thoughts of men and of gods." Said the king, "Himalaya, good sirs, is far, and hard to come at; we cannot go thither. Will you not go yourselves to your Teacher, and ask him the question, and when you have learnt it, return and tell it to us?" This they promised to do; and when they had returned to their Teacher, and greeted him, and he had asked of the king's well-being and the practices of the country folk, they told him all the story of the omens of sight and so forth, from beginning to end, [75] and explained how they came on the king's errand, to hear the answer to the question with their own ears; "Now, Sir," said they, "be pleased to make clear this Omen Problem to us, and tell us the truth." Then the eldest disciple asked his question of the Teacher by reciting the first stanza:
"Declare the truth to mortal man
perplext,
And tell what scripture, or what holy text,
Studied and said at the auspicious hour,
Gives blessing in this world and in the next?"
When the eldest disciple had put the omen problem in these words,
the Great Being, allaying the doubts of gods and men, answered, "This and
this is an omen," and thus describing the omens with a Buddha's skill,
said,And tell what scripture, or what holy text,
Studied and said at the auspicious hour,
Gives blessing in this world and in the next?"
"Whoso the gods, and all that
fathers 1 be,
And reptiles, and all beings, which we see,
Honours for ever with a kindly heart,
Surely a Blessing to all creatures he."
[76] Thus did the Great Being declare the first omen, and then
proceeded to declare the second, and all the rest:And reptiles, and all beings, which we see,
Honours for ever with a kindly heart,
Surely a Blessing to all creatures he."
"Who shows to all the world a
modest cheer,
To men and women, sons and daughters dear,
Who to reviling answers not in kind,
Surely a blessing he to every fere.
To men and women, sons and daughters dear,
Who to reviling answers not in kind,
Surely a blessing he to every fere.
"Who clear of intellect, in crisis
wise,
Nor playmates nor companions does despise,
Nor boasts of birth or wisdom, caste, or wealth,
Among his mates a blessing doth arise.
"Who takes good men and true his friends to be,Nor playmates nor companions does despise,
Nor boasts of birth or wisdom, caste, or wealth,
Among his mates a blessing doth arise.
That trust him, for his tongue from venom free,
Who never harms a friend, who shares his wealth,
Surely a blessing among friends is he.
"Whose wife is friendly, and of equal years,
Devoted, good, and many children bears,
Faithful and virtuous and of gentle birth,
That is the blessing that in wives appears.
"Whose King the mighty Lord of Beings is,
That knows pure living and all potencies,
And says, "He is my friend," and means no guile
That is the blessing that in monarchs lies.
"The true believer, giving drink and food,
Flowers and garlands, perfumes, ever good,
With heart at peace, and spreading joy around—
This in all heavens brings beatitude.
"Whom by good living virtuous sages try
With effort strenuous to purify,
[77] Good men and wise, by tranquil life built up,
A blessing he mid saintly company."
[78] Thus the Great Being brought his discourse to a topstone in sainthood; and having in eight stanzas explained the Omens, in praise of those same Omens recited the last stanza:
"These blessings then, that in the
world befall,
Esteemed by all the wise, magnifical,
What man is prudent let him follow these,
For in the omens is no truth at all."
The sages, having heard about these Omens, stayed for seven or
eight days, and then took leave and departed to that same place.Esteemed by all the wise, magnifical,
What man is prudent let him follow these,
For in the omens is no truth at all."
The king visited them and asked his question. They explained the Problem of the Omens in the same way as it had been told to them, and went back to Himalaya. Thenceforward the matter of omens was understood in the world. And having attended to the matter of omens, as they died they went each to swell the hosts of heaven. The Bodhisatta cultivated the Excellences, and along with his band of followers was born in Brahma's heaven.
Footnotes
46:1 No. 546.46:2 See the Sutta-nipāta, ii. 4.
47:1 Cyprinus Rohita.
47:2 Mutaṁ must be here a corrupt form of Skt. mṛṣṭaṁ "touched."
48:1 "Brahmins of the world of Form and of No-form." Schol.
Om Tat Sat
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