Tuesday, January 21, 2014

THE JĀTAKA OR STORIES OF THE BUDDHA'S FORMER BIRTHS (Book -4) -8

THE JĀTAKA

OR

STORIES OF THE BUDDHA'S FORMER BIRTHS

No. 490.

PAÑC-ŪPOSATHA-JĀTAKA.

"Thou art content," etc. This story the Master told while dwelling at Jetavana, about five hundred lay Brethren who were under the Sabbath vows. At that time they say that the Master, seated upon the Buddha's glorious seat, in the Hall of Truth, in the midst of folk of all the four kinds 2, looking around upon the gathering with a gentle heart, perceived that this day the teaching would turn on the tale of the lay Brethren 3. Then he addressed these, and said, "Have the lay Brethren taken upon them the Sabbath vows?" "Yes, Sir, they have," was the answer. "It was well done, this sabbath celebration was the practice of wise men of old: the wise men of old, I say, kept the sabbath celebration in order to subdue the sins of passion and lust." Then at their request he told a story of the past.

Once upon a time there was a great forest which separated the kingdom of Magadha from the two kingdoms that marched with it. The Bodhisatta was born in Magadha, as one of a great brahmin family. When he grew up, he renounced his desires, and departed, and went into that forest, where he made him an hermitage and dwelt there. Now not very far from this hermitage, in a clump made of bamboos, [326] lived a Wood-pigeon with his mate; in a certain ant-hill lived a Snake; in one thicket a Jackal had his lair, in another a Bear. These four creatures used to visit the sage from time to time, and listened to his discourse.
One day the Pigeon and his mate left their nest and went a-foraging for food. The hen went behind, and as she went, a Hawk pounced on her

and carried her off. Hearing her outcry the cock turned and looked, and beheld him bearing her away! The Hawk killed her in the midst of her cries, and devoured her. Now burned the cock-bird with the fire of love for his mate thus torn from him. Then thought he, "This passion torments me exceedingly; I will not go seek my food until I have found how to subdue it." So cutting short his quest, away he went to the ascetic, and taking upon him the vow for the subduing of desire, he lay down on one side.
The Snake also thought he would seek for food; so out of his hole came he, and sought something to eat on a cow-track near one of the frontier villages. Just then there was a bull belonging to the village headman, a glorious creature white all over, which after feeding went down on his knees at the foot of a certain ant-hill, and tossed the earth with his horns in sport. The Snake was terrified at the noise of the bull's hooves, and darted forward to hide in the ant-hill. The bull happened to tread on him, whereupon the Snake was angry and bit the bull; and the bull died then and there. When the villagers found out that the bull was dead, they all ran together weeping, and honoured the dead with garlands, and buried him in a grave, and returned to their homes. The Snake came forth when they had departed, and thought, "Through anger I have deprived this creature of life, and I have caused sorrow to the hearts of many. Never again will I go out to get food until I have learnt to subdue it." Then he turned and went to the hermitage, and taking upon him the vow for the subduing of anger, lay down on one side.
The Jackal likewise went to seek food, and found a dead elephant 1. He was delighted: "Plenty of food here!" cried he, and went and took a bite of the trunk—it was as though he bit on a tree-trunk. He got no pleasure of that, and bit by the tusk—he might have been biting a stone. He tried the belly—it might have been a basket. So he fell on to the tail, [327] it was like an iron bowl. Then he attacked the rump, and lo! it was soft as a cake of ghee. He liked it so well that he ate his way inside. There he remained, eating when he was hungry, and when he was athirst drinking the blood; and when he lay down, spreading the beast's inwards and lungs as a bed to lie on. "Here," thought he, "I have found me both food and drink, and my bed; what is the use of going elsewhere?" So there he stayed, well content, in the elephant's belly, and never came out at all. But by and bye the corpse grew dry in the wind and the heat, and the way out by the rear was closed. The Jackal tormented within lost flesh and blood, his body turned yellow, but how to get out he could not see. Then one day came an unexpected storm; the duct was drenched and grew soft, and began to gape open. When he saw the chink, the Jackal cried, "Too long have I been here in torment, and now I will out

by this hole." Then he went at the place head first. Now the passage was narrow, and he went fast, so his body was bruised and he left all his hair behind him. When he got out he was bare as a palm-trunk, not a hair to be seen on him. "Ah," thought he, "it is my greed has brought all this trouble upon me. Never again will I go out to feed, until I have learnt how to subdue my greed." Then he went to the hermitage, and took on him the vow for subduing of greed, and lay down on one side.
The Bear too came out of the forest, and being a slave to greediness, went to a frontier village of the kingdom of Mala. "Here is a bear!" cried the villagers all; and out they came armed with bows, sticks, staves, and what not, and surrounded the thicket wherein he lay. He finding himself encompassed with a crowd, rushed out and made away, and as he went they belaboured him with their bows and cudgels. He came home with a broken head and running with blood. "Ah," thought he, "it is my exceeding greed which has brought all this trouble upon me. Never again will I go out for food until I have learnt how to subdue it." So he went to the hermitage, and took on him the vow for subduing of greediness, and lay down on one side. [328]
But the ascetic was unable to induce the mystic ecstasy, because he was full of pride for his noble birth. A Pacceka Buddha, perceiving that he was possessed with pride, yet recognised that he was no common creature. "The man (thought he) is destined to be a Buddha, and in this very cycle he will attain to perfect wisdom. I will help him to subdue his pride, and I will cause him to develop the Attainments." So as he sat in his hut of leaves, the Pacceka Buddha came down from the Higher Himalaya, and seated himself on the ascetic's slab of stone. The ascetic came out and saw him upon his own seat, and in his pride was no longer master of himself. He went up and snapt fingers at him, crying out, "Curse you, vile good-for-naught, bald-pate hypocrite, why are you sitting on my seat?" "Holy man," said the other, "why are you possessed with pride? I have penetrated the wisdom of a Pacceka Buddha, and I tell you that during this very cycle you shall become omniscient; you are destined to become a Buddha! When you have fulfilled the Perfect Virtues 1, after the lapse of another such period of time, a Buddha you shall be; and when you have become a Buddha, Siddhattha will be your name." Then he told him of name and clan and family, chief disciples, and so forth, adding, "Now why are you so proud and passionate? The thing is unworthy of you." Such was the advice of the Pacceka Buddha. To these words the other said nothing: no salutation even, no question as to when or where or how he should become a Buddha. Then the visitor

said, "Learn the measure of your birth and my powers 1 by this: if you can, rise up in the air as I do." So saying, he arose in the air, and shook off the dust of his feet upon the coil of hair which the other wore on his head, and then returned back to the Higher Himalaya. At his departure the ascetic was overcome with grief. "There is a holy man," said he, "with a heavy body like that, passes through the air like a cotton-fleck blown by the wind! Such a one, a Pacceka Buddha, and I never kissed his feet, because of my pride of birth, never asked him when I should become Buddha. What can this birth do for me? In this world the thing of power is a good life; [329] but this pride of mine will bring me to hell. Never again will I go out to seek for wild fruits until I have learned bow to subdue my pride." Then he entered his leaf-hut, and took upon him the vow for subduing pride. Seated upon his pallet of twigs, the wise young noble subdued his pride, induced the mystical trance, developed the Faculties and the Attainments, then came forth and sat down on the stone seat which was at the end of the covered walk.
Then the Pigeon and the others came up, saluted him and sat on one side. The Great Being said to the Pigeon, "On other days you never come here at this time, but you go seeking food: are you keeping a sabbath fast to-day?" "Yes, Sir, I am." Then he said, "Why so?" reciting the first stanza:

"Thou art content with little, I am sure.
Dost want no food, O flying pigeon, now?
Hunger and thirst why willingly endure?
Why take upon thee, Sir, the sabbath vow?"

To which the Pigeon made answer in two stanzas:

"Once full of greediness my mate and I
Sported like lovers both about this spot.
Her a hawk pounced on, and away did fly:
So, torn from me, she whom I loved was not!

"In various ways my cruel loss I know;
I feel a pang in everything I see;
Therefore to sabbath vows for help I go,
That passion never may come back to me."
[330] When the Pigeon had thus praised his own action with regard to the vows, the Great Being put the same question to the Snake and all the rest one by one. They declared each one the thing as it was.

"Tree-dweller, coiling belly-crawling snake,
Armed with strong fangs and poison quick and sure,
These sabbath vows why dost thou wish to take?
Why thirst and hunger willingly endure?"

"The headman's bull, all full of strength and might,
With hump all quivering, beautiful and fair,
He trod on me: in anger I did bite:
Pierced with the pain he perished then and there.

"Out pour the village people every one,
Weeping and wailing for the sight they see.
Therefore to sabbath vow for help I run,
That passion never more come back to me."

"Carrion to thee is food both rich and rare,
    Corpses on charnel-ground that rotting lie.
Why doth a Jackal thirst and hunger bear?
    Why take the sabbath vows upon him, why?"
"I found an elephant, and liked the meat
    So well, within his belly I did stay.
But the hot wind and the sun's parching heat
    Dried up the passage where I pushed my way.
"All thin and yellow I became, my lord!
    There was no path to go by, I must stay.
Then came a storm that vehemently poured,
    Damping and softening that postern way.
"Then to get out again not slow was I,
    Like the Moon issuing from Rāhu's jaws 1:
[331] Therefore to sabbath vows for help I fly
    That greed may keep far from me: there's the cause."
"It was thy manner once to make a meal
    Of ants upon the ant-heap, Master Bear:
Why willing now hunger and thirst to feel?
    Why willing now the sabbath vow to swear?"
"From greed exceeding scorned I my own home,
    To Malatā I made all haste to flee.
Out from the village all the folk did come,
    With bows and bludgeons they belaboured me.
"With blood besmeared and with a broken head
    Back to my dwelling I made haste to flee.
Therefore to sabbath vows I now have fled
    That greed may never more come nigh to me."
Thus did they all four praise their own deed in taking of these vows upon them; then rising up and saluting the Great Being, they asked him this question, "Sir, on other days you go out at this time to seek for wild fruits. Why is it to-day you go not, but observe the sabbath vows?" They recited this stanza:

"That thing, Sir, which thou hadst a mind to learn
To our best knowledge we have told it now:
But we would ask a question in our turn:
Why thou, O brahmin, takest the sabbath vow?"

[332] He explained it to them:

"’Twas a Pacceka Buddha, who but came
And stayed a moment in my hut, and showed
My comings and my goings, name and fame,
My family, and all my future road.

"Then eaten up by pride, I did not throw
Myself before his feet; I asked no more.
Therefore to sabbath vows for help I go,
That pride may not come nigh me as of yore."

In this manner the Great Being explained his own keeping of these vows. Then he admonished them, and sent them away, and went into his hut. The others returned each to his own place. The Great Being without interrupting his ecstasy became destined for the World of Brahma, and the others abiding by his admonition, went to swell the hosts of heaven.

The Master, having ended this discourse, said, "Thus, lay Brethren, the sabbath vows were the custom of wise men of old, and must be kept now." Then he identified the Birth. "At that time Anurudha was the Pigeon, Kassapa was the Bear, Moggallāna the Jackal, Sāriputta the Snake, and I myself was the ascetic."

Footnotes

205:1 This story shows a new phase of the episode of the Man or Woman who cannot be made to laugh. Closely allied to it are those tales where someone cannot shiver or cannot fear (e.g. Grimm, no. 4).
205:2 Brethren, Sisters, Lay Brethren, Lay Sisters.
205:3 See Introd. Story to no. 148.
206:1 Compare no. 148, i. 502 (transl. i. 315).
207:1 These are ten, which are preliminary to attaining the state of a Buddha. See Childers, p. 335 a for list.
208:1 i.e. that your birth is nothing to my powers.
209:1 A monster who was supposed to swallow the moon in eclipse.

No. 491.

MAHĀ-MORA-JĀTAKA. 1

"If I being captured," etc. This story the Master told while dwelling in Jetavana, about a backsliding Brother. To this Brother the Master said, [333] "Is it true, as I am told, that you have backslidden?" "Yes, Sir, it is true." "Brother," said he, "will not this lust for pleasure confound a man like you? The hurricane that overwhelms Mount Sineru is not put to the blush before a withered leaf. In days of yore this passion has confounded holy beings, who for seven thousand years held aloof from following the lusts that arise within." With these words, he told a story of the past.

Once upon a time, when Brahmadatta was king of Benares, the Bodhisatta was conceived by a Peahen in a border country. When the due time had passed, the mother laid her egg in the place where she was feeding, and went away. Now the egg of a mother which is healthy comes to no harm, if there be no danger from snakes or such-like vermin. This egg therefore being of a golden colour like to a kaṇikāra 2 bud, when it was ripe, cracked of its own force, and issued forth a peachick of the colour of gold, with two eyes like gunja fruit, and a coral beak, and three red streaks ran round his throat and down the middle of his back. When he grew up his body was big as a tradesman's barrow, very fine to behold, and all the dark peafowl gathered together and chose him to be their king.
One day, as he was drinking water out of a pool, he espied his own beauty, and thought, "I am fairest of all peacocks. If I remain with

them among the paths of men, I shall fall into some danger: I will go away to Himalaya, and there dwell alone in a pleasant place." So in the night time, when all the peafowl were in their secret retreats, unknown to any he departed to Himalaya, and traversing three ranges of mountains settled in the fourth. This was in a forest where he found a vast natural lake all covered with lotus, and not far away a huge banyan tree hard by a hill; in the branches of this tree he alighted. In the heart of this hill was a delightsome cave; and being desirous to dwell there, he alighted on a flatland just at the mouth of it. Now to this place it was impossible to climb, whether up from below or down from above; [334] free it was from all fear of birds, wildcats, serpents, or men. "Here is a delightful place for me!" he thought. That day he remained there, and on the next coming forth from the cave he sat on the hill-top facing the east. When he saw the sun's globe arise, he protected himself for the coming day by reciting the verse "There he rises, king all-seeing 1." After this he went out seeking for food. In the evening he returned again, and sat on the top of the hill facing the west; then, when he saw the sun's globe sinking out of sight, he protected himself against the coming night by reciting the verse "There he sets, the king all-seeing 2." In this manner his life was passed.
But one day a hunter who lived in the forest caught sight of him as he sat on the hill-top, and went home again. When his time came to die, he told his son of it: "My son, in the fourth range of the mountains, in the forest, lives a golden peacock. If the king wants one you know where to find him."
One day the chief queen of the king of Benares (her name was Khemā) saw a vision in the dawning, and the vision was after this fashion: a golden peacock was preaching the Law, she was listening with approval, the peacock having finished his discourse arose to depart, she cried out upon it "The king of the peacocks is escaping, catch him!" And as she was uttering these words, she awoke. When she awoke, and perceived that it was a dream, she thought, "If I tell the king it was a dream, he will take no notice of it; but if I say it is the longing of a woman with child, then he will take notice." So she made as though she had a craving as they who are with child, and lay down. The king visited her and asked what was her ailment. "I have a craving," said she. "What is it you desire?" "I wish, my lord, to hear the discourse of a golden-hued peacock." "But where can we get such a peacock, lady?" "If one cannot be found, my lord, I shall die." "Do not trouble about it, my lady; if there exist such a one anywhere, it shall

be got for you." Thus he consoled her, and then went away and sitting down asked his courtiers the question: "Look you, my queen desires to hear the discourse of a golden peacock. [335] Are there such things as golden peacocks?" "The brahmins will know that, my lord." The king enquired of the brahmins. Thus the brahmins made answer: "O great king! It is said in our verses of lucky marks, Of water-beasts fish, tortoises, and crabs, of land-beasts deer, wild-geese, peacocks, and partridges, these creatures and men too can be of a golden colour." Then the king gathered together all the hunters that were in his domains, and asked them, had they ever before seen a golden peacock. They all answered, no, except the one whose father had told him what he had seen. This one said, "I have never seen one myself, but my father told me of a place where a golden peacock is to be found." Then the king said, "My good man, this means life and death to me and my queen: catch him and bring him hither." He gave the man plenty of money and sent him off. The man gave the money to his wife and son, and went to the place, and saw the Great Being. He set snares for him, each day telling himself the creature would certainly be caught; yet he died without catching him. And the queen too died without having her heart's desire. The king was very angry and wroth, for he said, "My beloved queen has died on account of this peacock"; and he caused the story to be written upon a golden plate, how that in the fourth range of Himalaya lives a golden peacock, and they who eat his flesh will be ever young and immortal. This plate he placed in his treasury, and afterwards died. After him another king rose up, who read what was written upon the plate, and being desirous to be immortal and ever young, sent a hunter to catch him; but he died first like the other. In this manner six kings succeeded and passed away, six hunters died unsuccessful in Himalaya. But the seventh hunter, sent by the seventh king, being unable to catch the bird through seven years, although each day he expected to do it, began to wonder, why there was no catching this peacock's feet in a snare. So he watched the bird, and saw him at his prayers for protection morning and evening, and thus he argued the case: "There is no other peacock in the place, and it is clear this must be a bird of holy life. [336] It is the power of his holiness, and of the protecting charm, which makes his feet never to catch in my snare." Having come to this conclusion, he went to the borderland and caught a peahen, which he trained at finger-snap to utter her note, at clap of hand to dance. Taking her with him, he returned; then setting his snare before the Bodhisatta had recited his charm, he snapt his fingers, and made her utter a cry. The peacock heard it: on the instant, the sin which for seven thousand years had lain quiescent, reared itself up like a cobra spreading his hood at a blow. Being sick with lust, he could not recite his protecting charm, but making all haste towards her, he came

down from the air with his feet right in the snare: that snare which for seven thousand years had no power to catch him, now caught his foot fast. When the hunter spied him dangling at the end of the stick, he thought to himself, "Six hunters failed to catch this king of the peacocks, and for seven years I could not. But to-day, so soon as he became lust-sick for this peahen, he was unable to repeat his charm, came to the snare and was caught, and there he dangles head downwards. So virtuous is the being which I have hurt! To hand over such a creature to another for the sake of a bribe is an unseemly thing. What are the king's honours to me? I will let him go." But again he thought, "’Tis a monstrous mighty and strong bird, and if I go up to him he may think I have come to kill him, he will be in fear of his life, and in struggling he may break a leg or a wing. I will not go near him, but I will stand in hiding and cut the snare with an arrow. Then he can go his ways at his own will." So he stood hidden, and stringing his bow fitted an arrow to the string and drew it back.
Now the peacock was thinking, "This hunter has made me sick with lust, and when he sees me caught he will not be careless of me. Where can he be?" He looked this way, and he looked that way, and spied the man standing with bow ready to shoot. [337] "No doubt he wants to kill me and go," thought he, and in fear of death repeated the first stanza asking for his life:

"If I being captured wealth to thee shall bring,
Then wound me not, but take me still alive.
I pray thee, friend, conduct me to the king:
Methinks a most rich guerdon he will give."

Hereupon the hunter thought, "The great peacock imagines I am going to shoot him with this arrow: I must relieve his mind," to which end he recited the second stanza:

"I have not set this arrow to the bow,
To do thee hurt, O peacock king, to-day:
I wish to cut the snare and let thee go,
Then follow thy own will, and fly away."

To this the peacock replied in two stanzas:

"Seven years, O hunter, first thou didst pursue,
Enduring thirst and hunger night and day:
Now I am in the snare, what wouldst thou do?
Why wish to loose me, let me fly away?

"Surely all living things are safe for thee:
Taking of life thou hast forsworn this day:
For I am in the snare, yet thou wouldst free,
Yet thou wouldst loose me, let me fly away."
[338] Then this follows:

"When a man swears to hurt no living thing:
When all that live, for him, from fear are free:
What blessing in the next birth will this bring?
O royal peacock, answer this for me!"

"When all that live, for him, from fear are free,
When the man swears to hurt no living thing,
Even in the present world, well praised is he,
Him after death to heaven his worth will bring."

"There are no gods, so many men do say:
The highest bliss this life alone can bring;
This yields the fruit of good or evil way;
And giving is declared a foolish thing.
So I snare birds, for holy men have said it:
Do not their words, I ask, deserve my credit?"
Then the Great Being determined to tell the man the reality of another world; and as he swung at the end of the rod head-downwards, he repeated a stanza:

"All clear to vision sun and moon both go
High in the sky along their shining way.
What do men call them in the world below?
Are they of this world or another, say!"

[339] The hunter repeated a stanza:

"All clear to vision sun and moon both go
High in the sky along their shining way.
They are no part of this our world below,
But of another: that is what men say."

Then the Great Being said to him:

"Then they are wrong, they lie who such things say;
Without all cause, who say this world can bring
Alone the fruit of good or evil way,
Or who declare giving a foolish thing."

As the Great Being spoke, the hunter pondered, and then repeated a couple of stanzas:

"Verily this is true which thou dost say:
How can one say that gifts no fruit can bring?
That here one reaps the fruit of evil way
Or good; that giving is a foolish thing?

"How shall I act, what do, what holy way
Am I to follow, peacock king, O tell!
What manner of ascetic virtue—say,
That I be saved from sinking into hell!"
[340] The Great Being thought, when he heard this, "If I solve this problem for him, the world will seem all empty and vain. I will tell him for this time the nature of upright and holy ascetic brahmins." With this intent he repeated two stanzas:

"They on the earth, who hold the ascetic vows,
In yellow clad, not dwelling in a house,
Who go forth early for to get their food,
Not in the afternoon 1: these men are good.

Visit in season such good men as these,
And question any one it shall thee please:
They will explain the matter, for they know,
About the other world and this below."

Thus speaking, he terrified the man with the fear of hell. The other attained to the perfect state of a Pacceka Bodhisatta; for he lived with his knowledge on the point of ripening, like a ripe lotus bud looking for the touch of the sun's rays. As the hunter hearkened to his discourse, standing where he was, he understood all in a moment the constituent parts of existing things, grasped their three properties 1, and penetrated to the knowledge of a Pacceka Buddha. This comprehension of his, and the setting free of the Great Being from the snare, came both in one instant. The Pacceka Buddha, having annihilated his lusts and desires, standing on the uttermost verge of existence 2, uttered his aspiration in this stanza:
[341]

"Like as the serpent casts his withered skin,
A tree her sere leaves when the green begin:
So I renounce my hunter's craft this day,
My hunter's craft for ever cast away."

Having uttered this sublime aspiration, he thought, "I have just now been set free from the bonds of sin; but at home I have many a bird held fast in bondage, and how am I to set them free?" So he asked the Great Being: "King Peacock, there are many birds I left in bondage at home, how can I set them free?" Now the Bodhisattas, who are omniscient, have a better knowledge and comprehension of ways and means than a Pacceka Buddha; therefore he answered, "As you have broken the power of lust, and penetrated the knowledge of a Pacceka Buddha, on that ground make an Act of Truth, and in all India there shall be no creature left in bonds." Then the other, entering by the door which the Bodhisatta thus opened for him, repeated this stanza, making an Act of Truth:

"All those my feathered fowl that I did bind,
Hundreds and hundreds, in my house confined,
Unto them all I give their life to-day,
And freedom: let them homewards fly away."

[342] Then by his Act of Truth, though late, they were all set free from confinement, and twittering joyously went home to their own places. At the same moment throughout all India all creatures bound were set free, and not one was left in bondage, not so much as a cat. The Pacceka Buddha uplifted his hand, and rubbed his forehead: immediately the family mark disappeared, and the mark of the religious appeared in its place. He then, like an Elder of sixty years, fully dressed, carrying the eight necessary things 3. made a reverential obeisance to the royal Peacock,

and walking around him right-wise, rose up in the air, and went away to the cavern on the peak of Mount Nanda. The peacock also, rising up from the snare, took his food and departed to the place in which he lived.

The last stanza was repeated by the Master, telling how for seven years the hunter went about snare in hand, and was then set free from pain by the peacock king:

"The hunter traversed all the forest land
To catch the lord of peacocks, snare in hand.
The glorious lord of peacocks he set free
From pain, as soon as he was caught, like me."

Having ended this discourse, the Master declared the Truths: now at the conclusion of the Truths, the backsliding Brother attained to sainthood: then he identified the Birth by saying, "At that time I was the peacock king."

Footnotes

210:1 Printed by Fausbøll, Ten Jatakas, p. 111. Compare Mora Jātaka, no. 159 (ii. 33, transl. p. 23).
210:2 Pterospermum Acerifolium.
211:1 The first line of a hymn given in the first Peacock Birth (ii. 33, transl. p. 23).
211:2 Vol. ii. p. 35 (transl. p. 24).
214:1 This was strictly forbidden to the Brethren.
215:1 Impermanence, suffering, unreality.
215:2 That is, on the point of entering Nirvana.
215:3 Bowl, three robes, girdle, razor, needle, water-strainer.

No. 492.

TACCHA-SŪKARA-JĀTAKA. 1

"I wandered, searching far," etc.—This story the Master told while dwelling at Jetavana, about two ancient Elders.
Mahā-Kosala, they say, in giving his daughter to King Bimbisāra 2, allotted her a village of Kāsi for bath-money. [343] After Ajātasattu had murdered his father 3, King Pasenadi destroyed that village. In the battles betwixt them for it, victory at the first lay with Ajātasattu. And the King of Kosala, having the worst, asked his councillors, "What can we devise to take Ajātasattu?" They answered, "Great king, the Brethren have great skill of magical charms. Send messengers to them, and get the opinion of the Brethren at the monastery." This pleased the king. Accordingly, he caused men to be sent, bidding them go thither, and hiding themselves, overhear what the Brethren should say. Now at Jetavana are many king's officers who have renounced the world. Two among these, a pair of old Elders, dwelt in a leaf hut on the outskirts of the monastery: the name of one of them was Elder Dhanuggaha-tissa, of the other the Elder Mantidatta. These had slept all the night through, and awoke at peep of day. The Elder Dhanuggaha-tissa said, as he kindled the fire, "Elder Datta, Sir." "Well, Sir?" "Are you asleep?" "No, I am not asleep: what's to do now?" "A born fool that King of Kosala is; all he knows is how to eat a mess of food." "What do you mean, Sir?" "He lets himself be beaten by Ajātasattu, who is no better than a worm in his own belly." "What should he do, then?" "Why, Elder Datta, you know the order of battle is of three kinds: Waggon Battle, Wheel Battle, and Lotus Battle 4. It is the Waggon Battle he ought to use in order to catch Ajātasattu. Let him post valiant men on his two flanks on the hill-top, and then show his main battle in front: once he gets in between, out with a shout and a leap, and they have him like a fish

in a lobster-pot. That is the way to catch him." Now all this the messengers heard; and then went back and told the king. He immediately set out with a great host, and took Ajātasattu prisoner, and bound him in chains. After punishing him thus for some days, he released him, advising him not to do it again, and by way of consolation gave him his own daughter, the Princess Vajirā, in marriage, and finally dismissed him with great pomp.
There was much gossip about it among the Brethren indoors: "Ajātasattu was caught by the King of Kosala, through following the directions of Elder Dhanuggaha-tissa!" They talked of the same in the Hall of Truth, and the Master entering, asked them what the talk was. They told him. Then he said, "This is not the first time, Brethren, that Dhanuggaha-tissa has shown himself expert in strategy." And he told them a story of the past.

[344] Once upon a time, a carpenter, who dwelt in a village hard by the city gate of Benares, went into the forest to cut wood. He found a young Boar fallen into a pit, which he brought home and reared, naming him Carpenter's Boar. The Boar became his servant: trees he turned over with his snout, and brought to him: he hitched the measuring-line around his tusk and pulled it along, fetched and carried adze, chisel, and mallet in his teeth.
When he grew up, he was a monstrous burly beast. The carpenter, who loved him as his own son, and feared lest some one might do him a mischief there, let him go free in the forest. The Boar thought, "I cannot live alone by myself in this forest: what if I search out my kindred, and live in their midst?" So he sought all through that multitude of trees for Boars, until seeing a herd of them, he was glad, and recited three stanzas:—

"I wandered, searching far and wide the woods and hills around:
I wandered, searching for my kin: and lo, my kin are found!

"Here are abundant roots and fruits, with plenteous store of food;
What lovely hills and pleasant rills! to dwell here will be good.
"Here will I dwell with all my kin, not anxious, at my ease,
Having no trouble, fearing nought from any enemies 1."
The Boars on hearing this verse responded with the fourth stanza:—

"A foe is here! some otherwhere take refuge, go thy ways:
Ever the choicest of the herd, O Carpenter 2, he slays!"

"Who is that foe? Come tell me true, my kindred, so well met,
Who is’t destroys you? though he has not quite destroyed you yet."
[345] "A king of beasts! striped up and down he is, with teeth to bite:
Ever the choicest of the herd he slays—a beast of might!"

"And have our bodies lost their strength? have we no tusks to show?
We shall o’ercome him if we work together: only so."

"Sweet words to hear, O Carpenter, of which my heart is fain:
Let no Boar flee! or he shall be after the battle slain!"
Carpenter's Boar now having made them all of one mind asked, "At what time will the tiger come?" "To-day he came early in the morning and took one, to-morrow he will come early in the morning." The Boar was skilled in warfare, and knew the place of advantage to take, so that victory might be won. He searched about for a place, and made them take food while it was yet night; then very early in the morning, he explained to them how the order of battle is of three kinds, the Waggon Battle, and so forth; after which he arranged the Lotus 1 Battle in this manner. In the midst he placed the sucking pigs, and around them their mothers, next to these the barren sows, next a circle of young porkers, next the young ones with tusks just a-budding, next the big tuskers, and the old Boars outside all. Then he posted smaller squads of ten, twenty, thirty apiece here and there. He made them dig a pit for himself, and for the tiger to fall into a hole of the shape of a winnowing basket: between the two holes was left a spit of ground for himself to stand on. Then he with the stout fighting-boars went around everywhere encouraging the Boars.
[346] As he was thus engaged the sun rose. The Tiger, coming forth from the hermitage of a sham ascetic, appeared upon the hill-top. The Boars cried, "Our enemy is come, Sir!" "Fear not," said he, "whatever he does, you do the same." The Tiger gave himself a shake, and as though about to depart, made water; the Boars did the same. The Tiger looked at the Boars and roared a great roar; they did the same. Observing what they were at, he thought, "They have changed somehow; to-day they face me out as enemies, in orderly bands: some warrior has been mustering them; I must not go near them to-day." In fear of death he turned tail, and fled to the sham ascetic; and he, seeing the Tiger empty-handed, recited the ninth stanza:—

"Hast thou abjured all killing? hast thou sworn
Safety for every living creature born 2?
Surely thy teeth their wonted virtue lack.
You find a herd, and come a beggar back!"

The Tiger thereupon repeated three stanzas:—

"My teeth no longer bite,
My strength exhausted quite:
Brother by brother all together stood:
Therefore I wander lonely in the wood.

"Once they would hurry-scurry all about
To find their holes, a panic-stricken rout.
But now they grunt in serried ranks compact:
Invincible, they stand and face me out. 1

[347]"They all agree together now, a leader they have got;
When all agree they may hurt me: therefore I want them not."
To this the sham ascetic replied with the following stanza:—

"Alone the hawk subdues the birds, alone
The Titans are by Indra overthrown:
And when a herd of beasts the mighty tiger sees,
Ever the best he picks, and kills them at his ease."

Then the Tiger recited one:—

"No hawk, no tiger lord of beasts, not Indra can command
A kindred host that tiger-like 2 combine to make a stand."

Thereat the sham ascetic, to egg him on, recited two stanzas:—

"The little tiny feathered fowl in flocks and coveys fly,
In heaps together up they rise, together skim the sky.

"Down stoops the hawk, and all alone, down on them as they play,
Harries and kills them at his will: that is your tiger's way."
[348] This said, he further encouraged him: "Royal Tiger, you know not your own power. One roar only, and a spring—there will not be two of them left together, I dare swear!" The Tiger did so.

To explain this, the Master said a stanza:—

"Then he with cruel greedy eye, deeming these words were true,
Took heart, and with his fangs all bare leaped on the tuskèd crew."

Well, the Tiger went back and stood there awhile on the hill. The Boars told Carpenter's Boar that he was come again. "Fear not," said he, comforting them, and then took his stand upon the ridge between the two pits. The Tiger with all speed sprang towards the Boar, but the Boar rolled tail over snout in the first hole. The Tiger could not check his onset, and fell all of a heap into the pit shaped like to a winnowing fan. Up jumped the Boar in a trice, buried his tusks in the Tiger's thigh, pierced him to the heart, devoured the flesh, bit at him, bundled him over into the further pit, crying, "There, take the varlet!" [349] They who came first got one chance apiece of nozzling a mouthful, those who came later went about asking, "How does tiger's-meat taste?"

Carpenter's Boar came out of the pit, and, looking round upon the others, said, "Well, don't you like it?" But they answered, "My lord, you have done for the Tiger, and that's one; but there is another left worse than ten tigers." "Who is that, pray?" "A sham ascetic, who eats the meat which the Tiger brings him from time to time." "Come along then, and we will catch him." So they quickly sprang off together.
Now the sham ascetic was watching the road, and expecting the Tiger to come every minute. And what should he see coming but the Boars! "They have killed the Tiger, methinks, and now they are come to kill me!" Away he ran, and climbed up a wild fig-tree. "He has climbed a tree?" said the Boars to their leader. "What tree?" "A fig-tree." "All right, we shall have him directly." He made the young Boars grub away the earth from its roots, and the sows bring each as much water as their mouths would hold, till there the tree stood upright bare down to the roots. Then he sent the others out of the way, and, going down on his knees, struck at the roots with his tusk: clean through the root he cut, as with an axe, down came the tree, but the man never got as far as the ground: he was torn to pieces and eaten on the way. Observing this marvel, the tree-spirit recited a stanza:-

"United friends, like forest trees—it is a pleasant sight:
The Boars united, at one charge the Tiger killed outright."

And the Master recited another stanza, how that both of them were destroyed:—

"The brahmin and the tiger both thus did the Boars destroy,
And roared a loud and echoing roar in their exceeding joy."

[350] Again the Boar asked, "And have you another foe?" "No, my lord," they replied. Then they proposed to sprinkle him for their King. Water was fetched. Espying the shell which the sham ascetic used for his drinking, which was a precious conch with the spiral turned right-wise 1, they filled it with water, and consecrated Carpenter's Boar there on the root of the fig-tree, there the water of consecration was poured upon him. A young sow they made his consort. Hence arose the custom which still prevails, that in consecrating a king they seat him upon a chair of fig-wood, and sprinkle him from a conch with spirals that run to the right.

This also the Master explained by reciting the last stanza:—

"The Boars beneath the wild fig-tree the holy water poured,
Upon the Carpenter, and cried, Thou art our King and Lord!"

When he had ended this discourse, the Master said, "No, Brethren, this is not the first time that Dhanuggaha-tissa has shown himself clever in strategy, but he was the same before." With these words, he identified the Birth: "At that time Devadatta was the sham ascetic, Dhanuggaha-tissa Carpenter's Boar, and I myself was the tree-sprite."

Footnotes

216:1 Compare No. 283 (trans. Vol. ii. 275).
216:2 See Vol. ii. pp. 164, 275.
216:3 Pasenadi was Mahā-Kosala's son, Aj. killed his father Bimbisāra.
216:4 See ii. 275, note 2.
217:1 One line occurs on p. 71, line 21, of the text (last couplet on p. 45, above).
217:2 Sic.
218:1 Note that this disagrees with the Introduction.
218:2 These two lines are the same as the first half of a stanza on p. 337.
219:1 The same stanza occurs in ii. 407 (trans. p. 277).
219:2 The text is uncertain. Doubtless it means the host is a match for the tiger.
220:1 A rarity, much prized, and used for consecration of a king.

No. 493.

MAHĀ-VĀṆIJA-JĀTAKA.

"Merchants from many," etc. This story the Master told while dwelling at Jetavana, about some traders who lived in Sāvatthi. These, we hear, when going away on business bent, came with gifts to the Master, sheltering themselves in the Refuges and the Virtues. "Sir," they said, "if we return safe and sound, we will kiss your feet." With five hundred cartloads of merchandise they set out, and came soon to a wild forest, where they could see no road. Astray, waterless and sans food, they traversed the forest until, seeing a huge banyan tree which was haunted by dragons, they unyoked the carts and sat down beneath it. Looking upon its leaves, they saw them all glossy as though wet with water, and the branches seemed to be full of water, which made them think thus: "It appears as though water were running through this tree. What if we cut a branch of it facing the east? we shall find something to drink." [351] On this one climbed up the tree and cut off a branch: out gushed a stream of water thick as a palm-trunk, and in this they washed, of this they drank. Next they cut a branch on the southern side: out from it came all manner of choice food, and they ate of it. They then cut a branch on the west side of the tree: out sprang women fair and beauteously adorned, with whom they took their pleasure. Lastly, they cut one of the northern branches: from it fell the seven things of price, and they took them and filled the five hundred carts, and returned to Sāvatthi. There they caused the treasure to be carefully guarded. Bearing in their hands garlands and perfumes and the like, they repaired to Jetavana and saluted the Master and paid worship to him, and then sat on one side. That day they listened to the preaching of the Law; and the next, they brought a munificent present, and renounced the merit of the whole, saying, "The merit of this gift, Sir, we renounce in favour of a tree-deity who gave us the whole treasure." The meal finished, the Master asked them, "What tree-deity do you give this merit to?" The merchants told the Tathāgata the manner how they had received the treasure by a banyan tree. Said the Master, "This treasure you have received for your moderation, and because you have not given yourselves into the power of desire; but in former days men were immoderate, and were in the power of desire, and thereby they lost treasure and life both." Then at their request he told them a story of the past.

Once upon a time hard by 1 Benares was this same wild forest and this same banyan tree. The merchants strayed from the way and saw the banyan tree.

The Master, in his perfect wisdom, explained the matter in these verses:—

"Merchants from many a kingdom came, and all together met,
Chose them a chief, and straight set out a treasure for to get.

"To this parched forest, poor in food, their way the travellers made,
And spied a mighty banyan tree with cool and pleasant shade.
"There underneath that shady tree those merchants all did sit,
And reasoned thus, with folly clothed and poverty of wit:
"Full moist the tree is, and it seems as water there did flow:
One of the branches let us cut which to the eastwards grow."
"The branch was cut; then pure and clear the trickling waters flow:
The merchants washed, the merchants drank till they had drunk enow.
"Again in poverty of wit, with folly clothed, they say,
"One of the branches on the south come let us cut away."
[352] "This branch being cut, both rice and meat out in a stream it brings,
Thick porridge, ginger, lentil soup and many other things.
"The merchants ate, the merchants drank, they took their fill of it,
Then said again, with folly clothed, in poverty of wit:
"Come, fellow-merchants, let us cut a western branch away."
Out came a bevy of fair girls all pranked in brave array.
"And O the robes of many hues, jewels and rings in plenty!
Each merchant had a pretty maid, each of the five and twenty.
"These all together stood around beneath the leafy shade:
These and the merchants in the midst, much merriment they made.
"Again in poverty of wit, with folly clothed, they say,
"One of the branches on the north come let us cut away."
"But when the northern branch was cut, out came a stream of gold,
Silver in handfuls, precious rugs, and jewels manifold;
"And robes of fine Benares cloth, and blankets thick and thin.
The merchants then to roll them up in bundles did begin.
"Again they said in witlessness and folly, as before:
"Come let us cut it by the root, and then we may get more."
"O then uprose their chief, and said, with a respectful bow,
"What mischief does the banyan do, good sirs? God bless you now!
"The eastern branch gave water-streams, the southern gave us food,
The western gave us pretty maids, the northern all things good:
What mischief does the banyan do, good sirs? God bless you now!
"The tree that gives you pleasant shade, to sit or lie at need,
You should not tear its branches down, a cruel wanton deed."
"But they were many, he was one whose voice forbade them do’t:
They struck the whetted axes in to fell it by the root."

[353] Then the Serpent King, who saw them draw near to the root that they might fell the tree, thought to himself: "I gave these fellows water to drink when they were thirsty, then I gave them food divine, then beds to lie on and maidens to attend them, then treasures to fill five hundred waggons, and now they say, Let us cut down the tree from the root! Greedy they are beyond bounds, and except the chief of the caravan they shall all die." Then he mustered an army: "So many armed in mail stand forth, so many archers, so many with sword and shield."

To explain this the Master repeated a stanza:

"Then five and twenty mail-clad snakes stood forth and took the field,
Three hundred bowmen, and six thousand armed with sword and shield."

[354] The following stanza is said by the Serpent King:

"Strike down the men, and bind them fast, spare not the life of one,
Burn them to cinders save the chief, and then your task is done."

And so did the serpents. Then they loaded the rugs from the northern branch and all the rest of it upon the five hundred waggons, and conveyed the waggons and the chief of the caravan to Benares, and put up the goods in his house, and taking leave of him returned to their own place of abode.

When the Master had seen this, he repeated two stanzas of admonition:

"So let the wise his own good see, and let him never go
A slave to greed, that he disarm the purpose of his foe.

"So let him, seeing this evil thing, pain rooted in desire,
Shake off desire and fetters, and to holy life aspire."
Having ended this discourse, he said, "Thus, Brethren, in days of yore merchants possessed with greed came to dire destruction, therefore you must not give place to greed." Then having declared the Truths (now at the conclusion of the Truths those merchants became established in the fruit of the First Path)—he identified the Birth: "At that time Sāriputta was the King of the Serpents, and I was the caravan chief."

Footnotes

222:1 Reading nissāya, as Fausbøll suggests.

No. 494.

SĀDHĪNA-JĀTAKA.

[355] "A wonder in the world," etc.—This story the Master told while dwelling in Jetavana, about lay Brethren who took on the fast-day vows. On that occasion the Master said: "Lay Brethren, wise men of old, by virtue of their keeping the fast-day vows, went in the body to heaven, and there dwelt for a long time." Then at their request, he told a story of the past.

Once upon a time, there was a King Sādhīna in Mithilā, who reigned in righteousness. At the four city gates, and in the midst of it, and at his own palace door he caused to be made six alms-halls, and with his almsgiving made a great stir through all India. Daily six hundred thousand pieces were spent in alms: he kept the Five Virtues, he observed the fast-day vows; and they of the city also, following his admonitions, gave alms and did good, and as they died, came to life at once in the city of the gods.
The princes of heaven, sitting in full conclave in Sakka's justice hall, praised Sādhīna's virtuous life and goodness. The report of him made all the other gods desirous to see him. Sakka, king of the gods, perceiving their mind, asked, "Do you wish to see King Sādhīna?" They replied, yes they did. Then he commanded Mātali, "Go to my palace Vejayanta, yoke my chariot, and bring Sādhīna hither. "He obeyed the command and yoked the chariot, and went to the kingdom of Videha.
It was then the day of full moon. At the time when people had partaken of their evening meal, and were sitting by their doors at their ease, Mātali drove his chariot side by side with the moon's disk. All the people called out, "See, two moons are in the sky!" But when they saw the chariot pass by the moon, and come towards them, then they cried, "’Tis no moon, but a chariot; a son of the gods, it would seem. For whom is he bringing this divine car, with his team of thorobreds, creatures of the imagination? Will it not be for our king? Yes, our king is a righteous and good king!" In their delight they joined hands with reverence, and standing repeated the first stanza:

"A wonder in the world was seen, that made the hair uprise:
For great Videha's king is sent a chariot from the skies!"

[356] Mātali brought the car close, and then whilst the people worshipt with flowers and perfumes, he drove it thrice round the city right-wise. Then he proceeded to the king's door, and there stayed the chariot, and stood still before the western window, making a sign that he should ascend. Now that day the king himself had inspected his alms-halls, and had given directions how they were to distribute; which done, he took on him the fast-day vows, and thus spent the day. Just then he was seated on a gorgeous dais, facing the eastern window, with his courtiers all around, discoursing to them on right and justice. At that moment Mātali invited him to enter the chariot, and having done this went away with him.

To explain this, the Master repeated the following stanzas:

"The god most mighty, Mātali, the charioteer, did bring
A summons to Vedeha, who in Mithilā was king.

"O mighty monarch, noble king, mount in this car with me:
Indra would see thee, and the gods, the glorious Thirty-three,
And now they sit in conclave all, bethinking them of thee."

"Then King Sādhīna turned his face, and mounted in the car:
Which with its thousand steeds then bore him to the gods afar.
"The gods beheld the king arrive: and then, their guest to greet
Cried, "Welcome mighty monarch, whom we are so glad to meet!
O King! beside the king of gods we pray you take a seat."
"And Sakka welcomed Vedeha, the king of Mithilā town,
Ay, Vāsava 1 offered him all joys, and prayed him to sit down.
"Amid the rulers of the world O welcome to our land:
Dwell with the gods, O king! who have all wishes at command,
Enjoy immortal pleasures, where the Three-and-thirty stand."

[357] Sakka king of the gods gave him the half of the city of the gods, ten thousand leagues in extent, and of twenty-five millions of nymphs, and of the palace Vejayanta. And there he dwelt for seven hundred years by man's reckoning, enjoying felicity. But then his merit was exhausted in that character in heaven; dissatisfaction arose in him, and so he spoke to Sakka in these words, repeating a stanza:

"I joyed, when erst to heaven I came,
In dances, song and music clear:
Now I no longer feel the same.
Is my life done, does death draw near,
Or is it folly, king, that I must fear?"

Then Sakka said to him:

"Thy life's not done, and death is far,
Nor art thou foolish, mighty one:
But thy good deeds exhausted are
And now thy merit is all done.

"Still here abide, O mighty king, by my divine command;
Enjoy immortal pleasures, where the Three-and-thirty stand 2."

[358] But the Great Being refused, and said to him:

"As when a chariot, or when goods are given on demand,
So is it to enjoy a bliss given by another's hand.

"I care not blessings to receive given by another's hand,
My goods are mine and mine alone when on my deeds I stand.
"I'll go and do much good to men, give alms throughout the land,
Will follow virtue, exercise control and self-command:
He that so acts is happy, and fears no remorse at hand."
On hearing this, Sakka then gave orders to Mātali: "Go now, convey King Sādhīna to Mithilā, and set him down in his own park." He did so. The king walked to and fro in his park; the park-keeper espied

him, and, after asking him who he was, went to King Nārada with the news. When he learnt of the king's arrival, he sent on the keeper with these words: "You go on before, and prepare two seats, one for him and one for me." He did so. Then the king asked him, "For whom do you prepare these two seats?" He replied, "One for you, and one for our king. Then the king said, "What other being shall sit down in my presence?" He sat upon one seat, and put his feet on the other. King Nārada came up, and having saluted his feet, sat down on one side: now it is said he was the seventh in direct descent from the king, and at that time the age of man was fivescore years. So long was the time which the Great Being had spent, by the might of his goodness. He took Nārada by the hands, and, going up and down in the pleasaunce, recited three stanzas:

"Here are the lands, the conduit round through which the waters go,
The green grass clothing it about, the rivulets that flow,

[359] "The lovely lakes, that listen when the ruddy geese give call,
Where lotus white and lotus blue and trees like coral 1 grow,
—But those who loved this place with me, O say, where are they all?"
"These are the acres, this the place,
The pleasaunce and the fields are here:
But seeing no familiar face,
To me it seems a desert drear."
Hereupon Nārada said to him: "My lord, since you departed to the world of the gods seven hundred years have gone by; I am the seventh in line from you, your attendants have all gone down into the jaws of death. But this is your own rightful realm, and I beg you receive it." The king answered, "My dear Nārada, I came not here to be king, but to do good I came hither, and good I will do." He then said as follows:

"Celestial mansions I have seen, shining in every place,
The Thirty-three archangels, and their monarch, face to face.

"Joys more than human I have felt, a heavenly home was mine,
With all that heart could wish, among the Thirty-three divine.
"This I have seen, and to do deeds of virtue I came down:
And I will live a holy life: I want no royal crown.
[360] "The Path that never leads to woe, the Path the Buddhas show,
Upon that Path I enter now by which the holy go."
So spake the Great Being, by his omniscience compressing all into these stanzas. Then Nārada again said to him, "Take the rule of the kingdom upon you;" and he replied, "My dear son, I want no kingdom; but for seven days I wish to distribute again the alms given during these seven hundred years." Nārada was willing, and doing as he was

requested, prepared a vast largess for distribution. For seven days the king gave alms; and on the seventh day he died, and was born in the heaven of the Thirty-three.

When the Master had ended this discourse, he said, "Such is the performance of the holy-day vows which it is duty to keep," and declared the Truths: (now at the conclusion of the Truths, some of the lay Brethren entered on the fruition of the First Path, and some of the Second:) and he identified the Birth: "At that time Ānanda was King Nārada, Anuruddha was Sakka, and I myself was the King Sādhīna."

Footnotes

225:1 Another name of Indra.
225:2 The scholiast explains:"I will give you the half of my merit, so remain here by my power."
226:1 Erythrina indica.

No. 495.

DASA-BRĀHMAṆA-JĀTAKA. 1

"The righteous king," etc.—This story the Master told while dwelling in Jetavana, about a gift incomparable. This has been explained in the Sucira 2 Birth of the Eighth Book. We learn that the king, while making this distribution of gifts, examined five hundred Brethren with the Master their chief, and gave to the most holy saints among them. Then they sat talking in the Hall of Truth, and telling of his goodness thus: "Brother, the king, in giving the incomparable gift, gave it in a case of much merit." The Master, entering, would know what they talked of sitting there: and they told him. Said he: "’Tis no wonder, Brethren, [361] that the King of Kosala, being the follower of such as I am, gives with discrimination. Wise men of old, ere yet the Buddha had arisen, even they gave with discrimination." With these words, he told them a story of the past.

Once upon a time, in the kingdom of Kuru and the city called Indapatta, was reigning a king Koravya, of the stock of Yuddhiṭṭhila. His adviser in things temporal and spiritual was a minister named Vidhūra. The king, with his great almsgiving, set all India in a commotion; but amongst all those who received and enjoyed these gifts, not one there was who kept so much as the Five Virtues: all were wicked to a man, and the king's giving brought him no satisfaction. The king thought, "Great is the fruit of discriminate giving;" and, being desirous to give unto the virtuous, he determined to take counsel with the wise Vidhūra. When, therefore, Vidhūra came to wait on him, the king bade him be seated, and put the question to him.

Explaining this, the Master recited half the first stanza. All the rest are question and answer of the king and Vidhūra.

"The righteous King Yudhiṭṭhila once asked Vidhūra wise 1:
"Vidhūra, seek me brahmins good, in whom much wisdom lies:

"Men free from deeds of evil lust, that they may eat my food:
So I would give, my friend, that I may reap a crop of good."
"’Tis hard to find such holy men, such brahmins, wise and good,
Who keep them spotless from all lust, that they may eat your food.
"Of brahmins, O most mighty king, ten several kinds are there:
Listen, while I distinguish them, and all these kinds declare.
"Some carry sacks upon their backs, root-filled and fastened tight;
They gather healing herbs, they bathe, and magic spells recite.
"These are physician-like, O king, and brahmins too they hight:
Such brahmins shall we seek for, now you know this kind aright?"
[362] Quoth King Koravya: