THE JĀTAKA OR STORIES OF THE BUDDHA'S FORMER BIRTHS (Book -4) -10

THE JĀTAKA

OR

STORIES OF THE BUDDHA'S FORMER BIRTHS

No. 503.

SATTIGUMBA-JĀTAKA. 2

"With, a great host," etc.—This story the Master told while sojourning in the deer-park Maddakucchi, about Devadatta. When Devadatta threw the stone 3, and a fragment pierced the Blessed One's foot, there was great pain in it. Numbers of the Brethren gathered to see the Tathāgata. Now when the Blessed One saw the people gathered together, he said to them, "Brethren, this place is crowded: there will be a great gathering. Come now, carry me in

a litter to Maddakucchi." So then the Brethren did. Jīvaka made the Tathāgata's foot well. The Brethren sitting before the Master talked of it: "Sirs, a sinner is Devadatta and sinners are all his people; the sinner keeps company with the sinful." The Master asked, "What do ye talk of, Brethren?" They told him. Said he, "It has been so before, and this is not the first time Devadatta the sinner has kept sinful company." Then he told them a story of the past.

---

Once upon a time, a king named Pañcāla reigned in the city of Uttara-Pañcāla. The Great Being was born as the son of the king of the Parrots, in a grove of silk-cotton trees which grew on a high table-land in the heart of a forest: there were two brothers. Up wind from this hill was a robber village, where five hundred robbers dwelt: under its lee was a hermitage with five hundred sages.
About the time when the parrots were moulting came a whirlwind that carried off one of the parrots, [431] and he fell in the robber village among the robbers' weapons: and because he fell there, they called him Sattigumba, or Bristling Spears. The other parrot fell in the hermitage, among the flowers which grew on a sandy spot, from which cause he was named Pupphaka, the Flower-bird. Sattigumba grew up amongst the robbers, Pupphaka with the sages.
One day the king in brave array, at the head of a great company, drove out in his splendid chariot to hunt the deer. Not far from the city, he entered a grove beautiful with a rich crop of flowers and fruit. He said, "If any one lets a deer go by him, he shall answer it!" Then he descended from the chariot, and took cover, standing, bow in hand in the hut assigned him. The beaters beat the bushes to put up the game. An antelope rose and looked for a way; he saw a gap by the king, got through it, and away. Everyone asked who had let the deer go past. It was the king! Hearing this they went and made fun of him. The king in his self-conceit could not stomach the sport. "Now I'll catch that deer!" cried he, and up into his chariot. "Full speed!" he said to the charioteer, and away he went after the deer. So quick went the king, that the others could not keep up with him: king and charioteer, these two alone, went on till midday, but saw no deer. The king then turned back; and seeing near the robber village a delightful glen, he alighted, bathed and drank, and came up from the water. Then the charioteer brought out a rug from the chariot, and spread it beneath the shade of a tree; the king lay on it, the charioteer sat at his feet chafing them: the king now dozed, now awoke. The people of the robber village, all the robbers even, had gone forth into the woods to attend the king: thus in the village no one was left but Sattigumba and the cook, a man named Patikolamba. At that moment Sattigumba coming out of

the village, and seeing the king, thought, "What if we kill yon fellow as he sleeps, and take his ornaments!" So he returned to Patikolamba, and told him all about it.

---

[432] To explain this the Master recited five stanzas:

"With a great host Pañcāla's king went out to hunt the deer;
Deep in the woods the monarch strayed, and not a soul was near.

"Lo, he beholds within the wood a shelter thieves had made,
Out came a Parrot and forthwith these cruel words he said:—
"'A young man riding in a car, with jewels many a one,
And on his brow a golden crown shines ruddy like the sun!
"Both king and driver lie asleep there in the high midday:
Come, let us spoil them of their wealth and take it quick away!
"’Tis quiet as the deep midnight: both king and driver sleep:
Their wealth and jewels let us take and keep,
Kill them, and pile boughs on them in a heap."

---

Thus addressed, the man went out and looked, and seeing that it was a king, he was frightened, and recited this stanza:

"Why, Sattigumba, art thou mad? what words are these I hear?
Kings are like blazing bonfires, and most perilous to come near."

The bird answered in another stanza:

"Fool's talk, Patikolamba, this; and thou art mad, not I:
My mother's naked; why contemn the calling we live by 1?"

[433] Now the king awoke, and hearing them talk together in the language of men, perceiving the danger, he recited the following stanza to arouse his charioteer:

"Up with you quick, friend charioteer, and yoke the chariot:
Seek we another shelter, since this parrot I like not."

He rose quickly, and put to the team, then recited a stanza:

"The car is yoked, O mighty King, is yoked and ready there:
Step in, O King! and let us go seek shelter otherwhere."

No sooner was he inside, than away flew the thoroughbreds swift as the wind. When Sattigumba saw the chariot departing, overwhelmed with excitement he repeated two stanzas:

"Now where are all the fellows gone that used to haunt this spot?
Away Pañcāla flies, let go because they saw him not.

"Shall he get clear away with life? Take javelin, spear, and bow:
Away Pañcāla flies, behold! O do not let him go!"

So he raved, fluttering to and fro: meanwhile in due course the king came to the hermitage of the sages. At that time the sages were all gone gathering fruits and roots, [434] and only the Parrot Puppha 1 was left in the hermitage. When he saw the king, he went to meet him, and addressed him courteously.

---

Then the Master recited four stanzas to explain:

The parrot with his ruddy beak right courteously did say,
"Welcome, O King! a happy chance directed thee this way!
Mighty thou art and glorious: what errand brings thee, pray?

"The tindook and the piyal leaves, and kāsumārī sweet 2,
Though few and little, take the best we have, O King, and eat.
"And this cool water, from a cave high hidden on a hill,
O mighty monarch, take of it, drink if it be thy will.
"All gleaning in the wood are they who here are wont to live:
Arise, O King, thyself and take: I have no hands to give."
The king pleased at this courteous address, answered with a couple of stanzas:

"No better fowl was ever hatched; a very righteous bird:
But the other parrot over there said many a cruel word.

"O let him not go hence alive, O come and slay or bind!
He cried: I sought this hermitage, and safety here I find."
Thus addressed by the king, Pupphaka uttered two stanzas:

"Brothers we are, O mighty King, of one self mother bred,
Reared both together in one tree, in different pastures fed.

"For Sattigumba to the thieves, I to the sages came;
Those bad, these good, and hence it comes our ways are not the same."
[435] He then explained the differences in detail, repeating a pair of stanzas:

"There wounds and bonds and trickery, cheating and shabby turns,
Raiding, and deeds of violence: such is the lore he learns.

"Here self-control, sobriety, kindness, the right and true,
Shelter and drink for strangers: these were round me as I grew."
Next he declared the Law to the king in the following stanzas:

"To whomsoever, good or bad, a man shall honour pay,
Vicious or virtuous, that man holds him beneath his sway.

"Like as the comrade one admires, like as the chosen friend,
Such will become the man who keeps beside him, in the end.
"Friendship makes like, and touch by touch infects, you'll find it true:
Poison the arrow, and ere long the quiver's poisoned too.

"The wise eschews bad company, for fear of staining touch:
Wrap rotten fish in grass, you'll find the grass stinks just as much.
And they who keep fool's company themselves will soon be such.

[436] "Sweet frankincense wrap in a leaf, the leaf will smell as sweet.
So they themselves will soon grow wise, that sit at wise men's feet.
"By this similitude the wise should his own profit know,
Let him eschew bad company and with the righteous go:
Heaven waits the righteous, but the bad are doomed to hell below."
The king was pleased with this exposition. Then the sages returned also. The king greeted the sages, saying, "Be gracious, sirs, come and take up your abode in my grounds," and prevailed on them to accept the invitation. When he got home again, he proclaimed immunity for all parrots. The sages came thither too and visited him. And the king gave them his park to live in, and took care of them so long as he lived. When he went to swell the hosts of heaven, his son had the royal umbrella raised over him, and he also took care of the sages, and so it went on from father to son through seven generations of kings all bounteous in alms. And the Great Being dwelt in the woods, until he passed away according to his deeds.

---

When this lesson was ended, the Master said, "Thus, Brethren, you see that Devadatta kept bad company before, as he now does." Then he identified the Birth: "At that time, Devadatta was Sattigumba, [437] his followers were the robbers, Ānanda was the king, the Buddha's followers were the sages, and I myself was Parrot Pupphaka."

Footnotes

267:1 Nyctalops.
267:2 Comp. no. 513 (Jayaddisa) in vol. v.
267:3 Hardy, Manual, p. 320.
269:1 "He means the robber chief's wife, who went about clad in a garment of branches. "My mother is naked": why do you despise the robber's trade?"—Scholiast. The Juāngs or Patuas in Orissa, or "leaf-wearers," wear only a bunch of leaves tied before and behind.
270:1 Sic.
270:2 Diospyros embryopteris and Buchanania latifolia are named.

No. 504.

BHALLĀṬIYA-JĀTAKA.

"Was a king Bhallāṭiya," etc.—This story the Master told while dwelling at Jetavana about Mallikā, the Jessamine Bride 1. One day we are told there was a quarrel between her and the king about conjugal rights. The king was angry and would not look at her. "I suppose," she thought, "the Tathāgata does not know that the king is wroth with me." When the Master learnt of it, next day, he sought alms in Benares, accompanied by the Brethren, and then repaired to the gate of the king's palace. The king came to meet him, and relieved him of his bowl, took him up on the terrace, set the Brethren

down in due order, gave them the water of welcome, offered them excellent food; after the meal he sat down on one side. "Why," asked the Master, "why does not Mallikā appear?" He said, "’Tis her own foolish pride in her prosperity." The Master said, "O great king! long, long ago when you were a fairy, you kept apart for one night from your mate, and then went mourning for seven hundred years." Then at his request, he told a story of the past.

---

Once upon a time, a king named Bhallāṭiya reigned in Benares. Seized with a desire to eat venison broiled on charcoal, he gave the kingdom in charge to his courtiers, girt himself with the five weapons, and with a well-trained pack of clever pedigree hounds he issued forth from the city and went to Himalaya. He travelled along the Ganges until he could get no higher, then followed a tributary stream for some distance, killing deer and pig, and eating the flesh broiled, until he had climbed to a great height. There when the pleasant stream ran full, the water was breast-high, but at other times, it was no more than knee-deep. At that time there were fish and tortoises of all sorts gambolling, sand at the water's edge like silver, trees on both banks bending beneath a load of flowers and fruit, many a bird and bee well drunken with the juice of fruit and honey of flowers flitted about in the shade, whither herds of all manner of deer did frequent. Now on the bank of this beautiful mountain stream [438] two fairies fondly embraced and kissed one another, then fell a weeping and wailing most pitifully.
As the king climbed Mount Gandhamādana by way of this river bank, he espied these two fairies. "What can they be weeping about in this manner?" thought he. "I will question them." A glance to his hounds, a snap of the fingers, and at this sign the thoroughbred dogs, which knew their work well, crept into the underwood and crouched down on their bellies. As soon as he saw they were out of the way, he laid down his bow and quiver and other weapons by a tree that stood near, and without letting his footsteps be heard stole gently up to the fairies, and asked them, "Why do you weep?"

---

To explain this, the Master repeated three stanzas:

"Was a king Bhallāṭiyo
And out a-hunting he would go;
    Climbs the Fragrant Mount, and finds it
Full of sprites and flowers that blow.

"Straight he quiets every hound,
Lays bow and quiver on the ground,
    Forward steps, to ask a question
Where a pair of fays were found.
"'Winter's gone: then why return
To talk and talk beside the burn?
    O you human-seeming creatures,
What men call you I would learn."

---

To the king's question, the male fairy said nothing; but his mate answered as follows:

"Malla, Three-peak, Yellow Hill 1
We traverse, following each cool rill.
[439]    Human-like the wild things deem us:
Huntsmen call us 2 goblins still."

Then the king recited three stanzas:

"Though like lovers you caress
You weep as full of deep distress.
    O you human-seeming creatures,
Why this weeping? come, confess!

"Though like lovers you caress
You weep as full of deep distress.
    O you human-seeming creatures,
Why this sorrowing? come, confess!
"Though like lovers you caress
You weep as full of deep distress.
    O you human-seeming creatures,
Why this mourning? come, confess!"
The stanzas which follow were said by each in course of address and answer:

"We apart one night had lain,
Both loveless, full of bitter pain,
    Thinking each of each: but never
Will that night come back again."

"Why then spend that night alone
Which cost you many a sigh and groan,
[440]    O you human-seeing creatures—
Money lost? a father gone?"
"Shaded thick yon river flows
Between the rocks: a storm arose:
    Then with anxious care to find me
Right across my loved one goes.
"All the while with busy feet
I gathered thyme and meadowsweet 3
    All to make my love a garland
And myself, when we should meet.
"Clustering harebell, violet blue,
And white narcissus fresh with dew,
    All to make my love a garland
And myself, when we should meet.

"Then I plucked a bunch of rose,
That is the fairest flower that grows,
    All to make my love a garland
And myself, when we should meet.

"Flowers next and leaves I found,
And strewed them thickly on the ground,
    Where the livelong night together
We might slumber soft and sound.
"Sandal and sweet woods anon
I pounded small upon a stone,
    Perfume for my love's limbs making,
Sweetest perfume for my own.
"By the river flowing fast
I gathered lilies 1 to the last:
[441]    Evening came—the river swelling
Made it hopeless to get past.
"There we stood on either shore,
Each on other gazing o’er.
    How we laughed and cried together!
Ah! that night we suffered sore.
"Morning came, the sun was high
And soon we saw the river dry.
    Then we crossed, and close embracing
Both at once we laugh and cry.
"Seven hundred years but three
Since we were parted, I and he.
    When two loving hearts are severed
Seems a whole long life to be."
"What the limit of your years?
If this by rumour old appears.
    Or the teaching of the elders,
Tell it me, and have no fears."
"A thousand summers, strong and hale,
Never deadly pains assail,
    Little sorrow, bliss abundant,
To the end love's joys prevail."
[442] The king thought as he listened, "These creatures, who are less than human, go weeping for seven hundred years for one night's parting: and here am I, lord of a realm of three hundred leagues, leaving all my magnificence and wandering about the forest. It is a great mistake." He returned immediately. Arrived at Benares, the courtiers asked him whether he had seen any marvellous thing in the Himalayas. [443] He told them the whole story, and thenceforward gave alms and enjoyed his wealth.

---

Explaining this matter, the Master repeated this stanza:

"Thus instructed by the fays
The King returned upon his ways,
    Ceased to hunt, and fed the needy,
And enjoyed the fleeting days."

Two more stanzas he added:

"Take a lesson from the fays:
And quarrel not, but mend your ways.
    Lest you suffer, like the fairy,
Your own error all your days.

"Take a lesson from the fays:
And bicker not, but mend your ways.
    Lest you suffer, like the fairy,
Your own error all your days."
Now rose the Lady Mallikā from her couch, when she heard the Tathāgata's admonition, and joining hands she made reverent obeisance, while she repeated the last stanza:

"Holy man, with willing mind
I hear thy words so good and kind.
    Blessings on thee! thou hast spoken,
All my sorrow's left behind."

[444] Ever afterwards the King of Kosala lived with her in harmony.
This discourse ended, the Master identified the Birth: "At that time the King of Kosala was the fairy, Lady Mallikā was his mate, and I myself was King Bhallāṭiya."

---

Footnotes

271:1 The pretty story of King Pasenadi and this "beggar-maid" is told in Hardy's Manual, p. 285. For this introduction cf. no. 306 in vol. iii.
273:1 The names given are Mallaṁgiri, Tikūṭa, Paṇḍaraka.
273:2 Reading ti for va with one MS.
273:3 The flowers given in the translation are not the same as those named in the text, which proudly defy English verse. Amongst them are: Alangium Hexapetalum, Gaertnera Racemosa, Cassia Fistula, Bignonia Suaveolens, Vitex Nigundo, Shorea Robusta.
274:1 Pterospermum Acerifolium.

No. 505.

SOMANASSA-JATAKA.

"Who does thee harm, etc."—This story the Master told while dwelling at Jetavana, how Devadatta went about to slay him. Then the Master said, "This is not the first time, Brethren, that Devadatta has sought to slay me, but he did the same thing before." Then he told them a story of the past.

---

Once upon a time, in the kingdom of Kuru and the city of Uttarapañcāla, a king reigned whose name was Reṇu. At that time there was an ascetic Mahārakkhita, who dwelt in Himalaya with a company of five hundred other ascetics. While visiting the country to get salt and

seasoning, he came to Uttarapañcāla, and then abode in the royal park. Seeking alms with his people, he came to the king's door, and the king beholding the sages and being pleased with their manners, invited them to be seated upon a magnificent dais, and gave them good food to eat. He then asked them to remain in his park for the rain-season. He accompanied them into the park, and provided places to dwell in, gave them the things necessary for the religious life, and took leave of them. After that they all received their meals in the palace. Now the king was childless, and desired sons, but no sons were born to him.
When the season of rains was over, Mahārakkhita said, "Now the Himalaya region is pleasant; let us return thither." Then he took leave of the king, who showed them all honour and bounty, and departed. On the journey at noontide he left the high road, and with his people sat down on the soft grass beneath a shady tree. The ascetics began to talk. "There is no son," they said, "in the palace to keep up the royal line. It would be a blessing if the king could get a son, and continue the succession." Mahārakkhita hearing their talk, pondered: [445] "Will the king have a son, or no?" He perceived that the king would have a son, and said, "Do not be anxious, sirs; this night at dawn a son of the gods will come down, and will be conceived by the queen consort." A sham ascetic heard it, and thought—"Now I will become a confidant of the royal house." When the time came for the ascetics to leave, he lay down and made as though he were sick. "Come, let us go," they said. "I cannot," said he. Mahārakkhita learnt why the man lay still. "Follow us when you can," he said, and with the rest of the sages went on to Himalaya.
Now the cheat ran back as fast as he could, and standing at the palace door, sent in a message that one of Mahārakkhita's attendants was come. He was summoned at once by the king, and going up to the terrace, sat in a seat which they showed him. The king greeted him, and sitting on one side, asked after the health of the sages. "You have come back very soon," he said; "what is the cause of your so speedy return?" "O mighty king," he replied, "as the sages were all sitting comfortably together, they began to say how great a blessing it would be if the king could have a son to keep up his line. When I heard it, I pondered whether the king should get a son or no; and by divine vision I beheld a mighty son of the gods, and saw that he was about to descend, that he might be conceived by your queen consort Sudhammā. Then I thought, If they know not, they may perchance destroy the life conceived, so I must tell them; and to tell you the news, O king, I am come. Now I have told it, let me depart again." "No, no, friend," quoth the king, "that must not be"; and highly delighted he brought the cheat into his park, and assigned him a place to dwell in. Thenceforward he lived in the king's household, and got his food there, and his name was Dibbacakkhuka, the man of Divine Vision.

Then the Bodhisatta came down from the heaven of the Thirty-three, and was conceived there; and when he was born they gave him the name of Somanassa Kumāra, Prince Delight, and he was reared after the manner of princes.
Now the false ascetic in a corner of the park used to plant vegetables and pot-herbs and runners, and by selling these to the market gardeners he amassed much wealth. When the Bodhisatta was seven years old, [446] there was a rebellion on the frontier. The king went out to quell it, giving the ascetic Dibbacakkhuka into the prince's charge, with orders not to neglect him. One day the prince went out to see the ascetic. He found him with both yellow robes, upper and under, knotted up, holding a water jar in each hand, and watering his plants. "This false ascetic," thought he, "instead of doing the ascetic's duty, does the work of a gardener." Then he asked—"What are you doing, gardener, worldling?" So he put him to shame, and left him without salute. "Now I have made an enemy of this fellow," thought the man. "Who knows what he will do? I must make an end of him at once."
About the time when the king was to return, the man threw his stone bench on one side, broke his waterpot to bits, scattered grass about in his hut, smeared all his body with oil, went into the hut and lay down on his pallet, wrapped up head and all, making as though he were in much pain. The king returned, and made a circuit about the city right-wise. But before he would enter his own house, he went to see his friend Dibbacakkhuka. Standing by the door of the hut, he saw all in disorder, and entered wondering what was the matter. There was the man lying down. The king chafed his feet, repeating the first stanza:

"Who does thee harm or scorn?
    Why dost thou sorrow sore?
Whose parents now must mourn?
    Who lies here on the floor?"

At this the impostor rose up groaning, and said the second stanza:

"Thee I rejoice to see
    O King, though absent long!
[447] Your son, who came to me,
    Wrought unprovoked this wrong."

The connexion of the following verses is clear; they are arranged in due succession.

"Executioners, what ho!
Servants, take your swords and go,
Strike Prince Somanassa dead,
Hither bring his noble head!'

"The royal messengers went forth, and to the prince they cry—
"His majesty has cast thee off; and thou O prince must die!"

"There the prince lamenting stands,
Craving grace with folded hands:
"Spare me yet awhile, and bring
Me alive to see the King!"

"They heard his prayer, and to the King his son the servants led.
He saw his father from afar, and thus to him he said:
"Let thy men take sword and slay,
Only hear me first, I pray!
O great monarch! tell me this—
What is it I've done amiss?"
[448] The king answered, "High estate is fallen very low: your error is very great," and explained it in this stanza:

"Water morn and eve he draws,
Tends the fire without a pause.
Dare you call this holy man
Worldling? answer if you can!"

"My lord," said the prince, "if I call a worldling a worldling, what harm is done!" and he repeated a stanza:

"He possesses trees and fruits,
And, my lord, all kinds of roots,
Tends them with incessant care:
Then he's worldly, I declare."

"And that is the reason," he went on, "why I called him a worldling. If you do not believe me, enquire of the market gardeners at the four gates." The king made enquiry. [449] They said, "Yes, we buy from him vegetables and all sorts of fruit." When he found out this greengrocery business, he made it known. The prince's people went into the man's hut, and ferreted out a bundle of rupees and small coins, the price of the green food, which they showed to the king. Then the king knew the Great Being was guiltless, and said a stanza:

"True it was that trees and roots
He possessed, with many fruits,
Tending with incessant care,
Worldly, as thou didst declare."

Then the Great Being thought, "While an ignorant fool like this is of the king's household, the best thing to do is to go to Himalaya and embrace the religious life. First I will proclaim his sin before the company here assembled, and then this very day I will go and become a religious." So with a bow to the company, he cried,

"Hear ye people as I call,
Country folk and townsmen all:
By this fool's advice the King
Guiltless men to death would bring."

This said, he asked leave to do it in the next stanza:

"Thou a strong wide spreading tree,
I an offshoot fixt in thee,
Here beseech thee, bending low,
Leave to quit the world and go!"

[450] The following stanzas give the conversation of the king with his son.

"Prince, enjoy the wealth you own,
And ascend the Kuru throne.
Do not leave the world, to bring
Sorrow on yourself—be King!"

"What of joy can this world give?
When in heaven I used to live
There were sights and sounds and smell,
Taste and touch 1, the heart loves well!
"Joys of heaven, and nymphs divine,
I renounced, that once were mine.
With a King so weak as thou
I will stay no longer now."
"If I am foolish-weak, my son,
This once forgive me what I've done.
And if I do the same again,
Do what thou wilt, I'll not complain."
The Great Being then repeated eight stanzas, admonishing the king.
[451]

"A thoughtless act, or done without premeditation had,
Like the miscarriage of a drug, the issue must be bad.

"A thoughtful act, wherein is careful policy pursued,
Like a successful medicine, the issue must be good.
"The idle sensual layman I detest,
The false ascetic is a rogue contest;
A bad King will a case unheard decide;
Wrath in a sage can ne’er be justified 2.
"The warrior prince takes careful thought, and well-weighed judgement gives:
When Kings their judgement ponder well, their fame for ever lives 2.
"Kings should give punishment with careful measure:
Things done in haste they will repent at leisure.
Are there good resolutions in the heart,
No late repentance brings her bitter smart.
"They who do deeds which no repentance bring,
Carefully weighing every single thing,
Gain what is good, and do what satisfies
The holy, win the approval of the wise.
"What ho, my executioners!" you cried,
"Go seek my son, and where you find him, slay!"
Where I was sitting by my mother's side
They found me, dragged me cruelly away.

"A tender nursling, treated in this way,
I felt their cruel handling very sore.
Delivered from a cruel doom to-day
I'll leave the world, and live in it no more."

[452] When the Great Being had thus discoursed, the king said to his queen,

"So my young son, Sudhammā, says me nay,
Prince Somanassa, delicate and kind.
Now since I cannot gain my end to-day,
Thyself must see if thou canst turn his mind."

But she urged him to renounce the world in this stanza:

"O be the holy life thy pleasure, son!
Renounce the world, to righteousness stick fast:
Who of all creatures cruel is to none,
Blameless to Brahma's world will come at last."

Then the king repeated a stanza:

"This is a marvel which I hear from thee,
Sorrow to sorrow heaping up on me.
[453] I asked thee to persuade our son to stay,
Thou dost but urge him more to haste away."

Again the queen repeated a stanza:

"There are who live from sin and sorrow free,
Blameless, and who Nirvana's height attain:
If of their noble path the prince would be
A partner, to withhold him is in vain."

In reply the king recited the last stanza:

"Surely ’tis good to venerate the wise,
In whom deep wisdom and high thoughts arise 1.
The queen has heard their words and learned their lore,
She feels no pain and has no longing more."

The Great Being then saluted his parents, asking them to pardon him if he did amiss, and with a reverent obeisance to the company set his face towards Himalaya. When the people had returned, he, with the deities who had come thither in human shape, traversed the seven ranges of hills and arrived at Himalaya. In a leaf-hut made by the heavenly architect Vissakamma he entered upon the religious life, and there he was waited upon by deities in the shape of a princely retinue until his sixteenth year. But the deceitful ascetic was set upon by the crowd and beaten to death. The Great Being cultivated the Faculty of Ecstasy, and became destined to Brahma's heaven.

---

[454] This discourse ended, the Master said, "Thus Brethren, he went about to slay me in former days, as now," and then he identified the Birth: "At that time Devadatta was the impostor, Mahāmāyā was the mother, Sāriputta was Rakkhita, and I myself was Prince Somanassa."

Footnotes

279:1 passehi is probably for phassehi (objects of touch): rūpa corresponds to the eye.
279:2 These stanzas occur in Vol. iii. pp. 105 and 154 (translation, pp. 70, 103).
280:1 These two lines occur in iii. 306 (translation, p. 191).

No. 506.

CAMPEYYA-JĀTAKA.

"Who is it like," etc.—This story the Master told while dwelling in Jetavana, about the fast-day vows. The Master said, "It is well done, lay Brethren, that ye have taken upon you the fast-day vows. Wise men of old likewise even renounced the glory of being a Serpent King, and lived under these vows." Then at their request he told a story of the past.

---

Once upon a time, when Aṅga was king in the kingdom of Aṅga, and Magadha king in Magadha, betwixt the realms of Aṅga and Magadha was a river Campā, where was a place where serpents dwelt, and here a serpent king Campeyya held sway.
Sometimes King Magadha took the Aṅga country, sometimes King Aṅga took Magadha. One day King Magadha, having fought a battle with Aṅga and got the worse, mounted his charger and took to flight, pursued by Aṅga's warriors. When he came to the Campā river, it was in flood. But he said, "Better death drowned in this river than death at the hands of my enemies!" Then man and horse plunged in the stream.
Now the serpent king Campeyya had built him under the water a jewelled pavilion; and there at this moment in the midst of his court he was carousing deep. But the king and his horse plunged into the river just in front of the Serpent King. The serpent, beholding this magnificent monarch, conceived a liking for him. Rising from his seat, he made the king sit down upon his own throne, bidding him fear nought, and asked why he came plunging into the water. The king told him all as it was. Then said the serpent, "Fear nothing, O great king! I will make you master of both kingdoms." Thus he consoled him, and for seven days he showed him high honour. On the seventh day he with King Magadha left the serpent palace. Then by the Serpent King's power, King Magadha got possession of King Aṅga, and slew him, and ruled over the two realms together. From that time there was firm affiance between him and the Serpent King. [455] Year by year he caused a jewelled pavilion to be built on the bank of the river Campā, and offered tribute to the Serpent King at great cost: the Serpent King would come forth with a large retinue from his palace to receive the tribute, and all the people beheld the glory of the Serpent King.

At that time the Bodhisatta was one of a poor family, and he used to go down with the king's people to the riverside. There seeing the Serpent King's glory, he became covetous of it; and in this desire 1 he died, and seven days after the death of the serpent king Campeyya, the Bodhisatta, having given alms and lived a virtuous life, came into being in his palace on his royal couch: his body was like a great festoon of jessamine. When he saw it, he was filled with remorse. "As a consequence of my good deeds," quoth he, "I have power laid up in the six chief worlds of sense 2, as corn is laid up in a granary. But see, here am I born in this reptile shape; what care I for life!" And so he had thoughts of putting an end to himself. But a young female serpent, named Sumanā, seeing him, gave the lead to the rest, "This must be Sakka, mighty in power, born here to us!" Then they all came and made offering to him, with all manner of musical instruments in their hands. That serpent's palace of his became as it were the palace of Sakka, the thought of death left him: he put off his serpent shape, and sat on the couch in magnificence of dress and adornment. From that time great was his glory, and he ruled over the serpents. Another time again he repented, thinking, "What care I for this reptile shape? I will live under the fasting vows, and from this place I will shake myself free, amongst men I will go, and learn the Truths, and I will make an end of pain." But afterwards he still remained in that same palace, fulfilling the fasting vows, and when the young female serpents came about him all gaily adorned, he generally violated his rule of virtue. After that he went forth from the palace into the park, but they followed him thither, and his vow was broken as before. Then he thought: "I must leave this palace, and go into the world of men, and there must I live under the fasting vows." [456] So then on the fast-days he went forth from the palace, and lay on the top of an antheap by the high road, not far from a frontier village. Said he, "Those who desire my skin or any part of me, let them take it; or if any would have me a dancing snake, let them make me so." Thus did he yield his body as a gift, and contracting his hood he lay there observing the fast-day vows.
Those who went to and fro on the highway espying him, did him worship with scents and perfumes. And the dwellers in that frontier village, holding him to be a serpent king of great power, set up a pavilion over him, spread sand before it, did worship with perfumes and scented things. Now people began to crave sons by his aid, having faith in the Great Being and doing him worship. The Great Being kept there the fasting vows on the fourteenth and fifteenth days of the half-moon, lying upon the antheap; and on the first day of the lunar half he would return to his palace; and as he thus fulfilled his vows, time went by.

One day his consort Sumanā spoke to him thus: "My lord, you are wont to go among men to keep your fast-vows. The world of men is dangerous, full of fear. Suppose some danger should come upon you, tell me now by what sign I shall learn of it." Then the Great Being led her to the side of a lucky pond, and said, "If any one strike me or do me hurt, the water in this pond will become turbid. If a roc bird carry me off, the water will disappear. If a snake-charmer seize me, the water will turn to the colour of blood." These three signs explained to her, he went forth from his palace to keep the fast of the fourteenth day, went and lay down on the antheap, illuminating the antheap with the sheen of his body. White was his body as a coil of pure silver, like a ball of red wool was his head: now in this Birth the Bodhisatta's body was thick as a plough-head, in the Bhūridatta Birth 1 thick as a thigh, in the Saṅkhapāla Birth 2 as big round as a trough-canoe with an outrigger.
In those days there was a young brahmin of Benares come to Takkasilā to study at the feet of a world-renowned teacher, from whom [457] he had learned the charm which commands all things of sense. Going home along that road, what should he see but the Great Being."This snake I will catch," thinks he, "and I will travel through town and village and royal city, making him dance and amassing great profits." Then he procured magical herbs, and repeating the magic charm he approached the snake. No sooner he heard the sound of this charm, than the Great Being felt his ears as it were pierced by burning splinters, his head was as though broken by the blow of a sword. "What have we here!" thought he; putting forth his head from the hood, he beheld the snake-charmer. Then he thought, "My poison is powerful, and if I am angry and send forth the breath of my nostrils 3 his body will be shattered and scattered like a fist-full of chaff; then my virtue will be broken. I will not look upon him. "Closing his eyes he drew his head within the hood. The brahmin snake-charmer ate a herb, repeated his charm, spat upon him: by virtue of herb and charm, wherever the spittle touched him, blains arose. Then the man seized him by the tail, dragged him, laid him out at full length: with a goat's-foot staff he squeezed him till he was weak, then catching tight hold on his head, crushed him hard. The Great Being opened his mouth wide; the man dropt spittle in it, and by the herb and charm broke his teeth; the mouth was full of blood. But the Great Being so feared lest he break his virtue, that he bore all this torment and never so much as opened an eye to glance at him. Then the man said, "I'll weaken this royal snake!" From tail to head he squeezed the snake's body as though he would crush his very bones to powder. Then he wrapt him in

what they call the cloth-wrap, gave him what they call the rope-rubbing, caught him by the tail and gave him the cotton blow, as they call it 1. The Great Being's body was all smeared with blood, and he was in great pain. Seeing that the serpent was now weak, [458] the man made an osier basket in which he laid the snake. Then he carried him to the village, and made him perform to the crowd. Black or blue or what not, round figure and square figure, little or large—whatever the brahmin desires, that the Great Being will do, dancing, spreading his hood as if by hundreds or by thousands 2. The people were so pleased that they gave much money: in one day he would take a thousand rupees, and things worth another thousand. At the first the man had intended to let him go free when he should gain a thousand pieces of money; but when he got it, he thought, "In a small frontier village I have gained all this: from kings and courtiers how much wealth may I look to win!" So he bought a cart and a pleasure-car, and in the cart loaded his goods, while he sat in the carriage. Thus with an attendant throng he traversed town and village, making the Great Being perform, and went on with the intent to show him off before King Uggasena in Benares; and then he would let him go.
He used to kill frogs and give them to the royal snake. But the snake each time refused to eat, that none might be killed for his sake. Then the man gave him honey and fried corn. But the Great Being refused to eat these also; for he thought, "If I take food, I shall be in this basket till I die."
In a month's time the brahmin was come to Benares. There he got much money by making the snake perform in the villages beyond the gates. The king also sent for him, and commanded a performance: the man promised this for the morrow, which was the last day of the half-month. Then the king sent a drum beating about the city, with proclamation, that on the morrow a royal snake would dance in the palace court; let the people then gather to see it in their multitudes. Next day the courtyard of the palace was adorned, and the brahmin summoned. He brought in the Great Being in a jewelled basket on a gay rug, which he set down, and himself took a seat. "The king came down from the upper storey, and sat on his royal seat in the midst of a great concourse of people. The brahmin took out the Great Being, and made him dance. The people could not keep still: thousands of kerchiefs waved in the air; a shower of jewels in all seven kinds fell about the Bodhisatta.
It was now the full month since the Serpent was caught; and for all that time he had taken no food. [459] Now Sumanā began to think—
  "My dear husband tarries long. It is now a month since he has not returned; what can the matter be?" So she went and looked at the pond: lo, the water was red as blood! Then she knew that he must have been caught by a snake-charmer. Forth from the palace she came, and to the antheap; she saw the place where he had been caught, and the place where he had been tormented, and she wept. Then she went to the frontier village, and enquired; and learning all the fact, she went on to Benares, and in the midst of the people, above the palace court in the air she stood now lamenting. The Great Being as he danced looked up in the air, and saw. her, and being ashamed crept into his basket, and there he lay. When he crept into the basket, the king cried out, "What is the matter now?" Looking this way and that way, he saw her poised in the air, and recited the first stanza:

"Who is it like the lightning shines, or like a blazing star?
Goddess or Titaness? methinks no human thing you are."

Their conversation is given in the stanzas following:

"No Goddess I, nor Titaness, nor human, mighty king
A female of the serpent kind, come for a certain thing."

"Full of wrath and rage you show,
From your eyes the teardrops flow:
    Say what wrong or what desire
Brings you, lady? I would know."
"Crawling serpent, fierce as flame!
So they called him: one there came,
    Seized him for his profit, sire:
Freedom for my lord I claim!"
How could such a starveling wight
Catch a creature full of might?
    Daughter of the serpents, say,
How to discern the snake aright?"
[460] "Such his might, that e’en this town
He could burn to cinders down.
    But he loves the holy way,
And seeks austerity's renown."
Then the king asked how the man had caught him. She replied in the following stanza:

"On holy days 1 the royal snake
At the four-ways used to take
    Holy vows: a juggler caught him.
Free my husband for my sake!"

After these words she added yet these other two stanzas, begging his release:

"Lo sixteen thousand women gay with jewel and with ring,
Beneath the waters counted him their refuge and their king.

"Justly, gently set him free,
Buy the Serpent liberty,
    With gold, a hundred kine, a village:
That will merit win for thee."

[461] Then the king recited three stanzas:

"Justly now and gently see
I buy the Serpent liberty
    With gold, a hundred kine, a village,
That will merit win for me."

"A jewelled earring give I thee, a hundred drachms of gold,
A lovely throne like flower of flax with cushions laid fourfold! 1
"A bull, a hundred kine, two wives of equal birth with thee:
Release the holy Snake: the deed will meritorious be."
To this the hunter made reply:

"I want no gifts, your majesty,
But let the Serpent now go free.
    Thus I now release the Serpent:
The deed will meritorious be."

After this speech he took the Great Being out of his basket. The Serpent King came forth and crept into a flower, where he put off his shape and reappeared in the form of a young man magnificently arrayed: there he stood, as though he had cleft the earth and come through. And down from the sky came Sumanā, and stood beside him. The Serpent King stood reverently joining his hands in respect to the king.

---

[462] To make all clear, the Master recited two stanzas:

"The Serpent King Campeyyaka addressed the King, now free:
"O King of Kāsi, fostering lord, all honour now to thee!
I do thee reverence, ere I go again my home to see."

"Superhuman beings may
Hardly win belief, they say.
    If you speak the truth, O Serpent,
Where's your palace? Show the way."

---

But the Great Being, to make him believe, swore an oath as follows in these two stanzas:

"Should the wind move mountains high,
Moon and sun fall from the sky,
    Flow upstream the running rivers,
I, O King! could never lie.

"Split the sky, the sea run dry,
Bounteous mother earth awry
    Crumpling 2 roll, uproot Mount Meru,
Yet, O King, I could not lie!"

But notwithstanding this assurance, he still disbelieved the Great Being, and said—

"Superhuman beings may
Hardly win belief, they say.
[463]    If you speak the truth, O Serpent!
Where's your palace? Show the way."

Again he repeated the same stanza, adding, "You must be grateful for the good deeds wrought by me: whether I should believe you to be right or not, however, that is for me to decide." This he made clear in the next stanza:

"Deadly envenomed, full of might,
Quick in quarrel, shining bright,
    You are freed by me from prison:
Then is gratitude my right."

The Great Being made oath thus to win his belief:

"He that will no thanks return,
Happiness should never learn:
    He should die in basket-prison,
He in horrid hell should burn!"

Now the king believed him, and thanked him thus:

"As that vow of thine is true,
Anger flee and hate eschew:
    As we flee the fire in summer,
May the roc-birds flee from you!" 1

The Great Being too on his part said another stanza meaning to thank the king:

"As a mother would have done
To an only well-loved son,
    You are kind to all the serpents:
We will serve you, every one."

[464] Now the king eager to visit the serpent's world, gave command that his army should be made ready to go in the following stanza:

"Yoke the royal cars, and stand
Trained Cambodian mules at hand,
    Elephants in golden trappings:
We will visit serpent-land!"

---

The next is a stanza of the Perfect Wisdom:

"Bounce the tabors, thump the drums,
Conch and cymbal sounds and thrums,
    Glorious mid a host of women
See King Uggasena comes."

---

At the moment he left the city, the Great Being by his power made visible in the serpent world an enclosing wall of seven precious things, and gate-towers, and all the road of approach to the abode of the serpents he made to be gloriously adorned. By this road the king with his following entered the palace, and saw a delightful spot with mansions in it.

---

Explaining this, the Master said:

"The lord of Kāsi saw the ground sprinkled with golden sand,
Fair flowers of coral 1 strewn around, gold towers on every hand.

"So then the King did enter in Campeyya's halls divine,
Which like the brazen thunderbolt 2 or ruddy sun did shine.
"Into Campeyya's halls divine the King his entrance made:
A thousand perfumes scent the air, a thousand trees give shade.
"Within Campeyya's palace once the King his step advanced,
Celestial harps made melody, fair serpent-maidens danced."
[465] "He is shown a golden seat
Cushioned and with sandal sweet,
    Where the bevy of fair maidens
Tread the halls with thronging feet."

---

No sooner was he there seated, than they set before him food divine of choice flavour, and they gave it also to the sixteen thousand women and to the rest of the company. For seven days he with his retinue partook of the divine food and drink, and enjoyed all manner of pleasure. Sitting in his fair seat he praised the glory of the Great Being. "O King of the serpents," said he, "why did you leave all this magnificence, to lie on an ant-heap, in the world of men, and to keep the fast-day vows?" The other told him.

---

To explain this, the Master said:

"There the King in pleasure stayed.
To Campeyya then he said:
"Glorious mansions these of thine!
Ruddy like the sun they shine.
Such on earth are none to see:
Why wouldst thou a hermit be?

"Fair and fine these damsels stand,
    Who with taper-fingers hold
Drink in either red-stained hand,
    Breast and body girt with gold.
Such on earth are none to see:
Why wouldst thou a hermit be?

[466]

"River, fishpond, glassy-fair,
Each with well-built landing-stair,
Such on earth are none to see:
Why wouldst thou a hermit be?

"Heron, peacock, heavenly geese,
Charms of cuckoo like to these,
Such on earth are none to see:
Why wouldst thou a hermit be?
"'Mango, sal, and tilak grown,
Cassia 1, trumpet-flower 2 full-blown,
Such on earth are none to see:
Why wouldst thou a hermit be?
"See the lakes! and wafted o’er
Scents divine on every shore:
Such on earth are none to see:
Why wouldst thou a hermit be?"
"'Not for life or sons or pelf
Do I wrestle with myself;
’Tis my craving, if I can,
To be born again as Man."

---

To this answer the king replied:

"Bravely drest, eyes red and bleared,
Broad-shouldered, shaven head, and beard,
    Like an angel-King addressing
All the world, with sandal smeared.

"Great in might, in power divine,
Lord of all desires, incline,
    Serpent-King, to rede my question—
How our world surpasses thine?"
[467] This was answered by the Serpent-King as follows:

"Comes control and cleansing when
One is in the world of men,
    Only there: once man, I'll never
See nor birth nor death again."

The, king listened, and thus replied:

"Surely ’tis good to venerate the wise
In whom deep wisdom and high thoughts arise 3.
When thee and all these maids I behold,
I will do virtuous actions manifold."

To him the Serpent-King said:

"Surely ’tis good to venerate the wise
In whom deep wisdom and high thoughts arise.
When me and all these maids thou dost behold,
Then do thou virtuous actions manifold."

After this speech, Uggasena wished to go, and he took leave, saying, "Serpent King, I have stayed long here, and I must go." The Great Being pointed to his treasure, and offered him whatever he wished to take, saying this,

"I renounce it, gold untold,
Tree-high silver-heaps, behold!
    Take and make you walls of silver,
Take and houses make of gold.

[468] "Pearls, five thousand loads, I ween,
Coral blushing in between,
    Take and spread them in thy palace
Till nor earth nor dirt be seen.
"Such a mansion as I tell
Build, and there, O monarch! dwell:
    Rich will be Benares city:
Rule it wisely, rule it well."
The king agreed to this suggestion. Then the Great Being sent proclamation about the city by beat of drum: "Let all the attendants of the king take what they will of my wealth, gold and fine gold!" And he sent the treasure to the king loaded in several hundred carts. After this the king left the serpent world with great pomp, and returned to Benares. From that time, they say, the ground was all golden throughout India.

---

This discourse ended, the Master said, "Thus wise men of old left the glories of the serpent world, to keep the fast-day vows." Then he identified the Birth: "At that time, Devadatta was the snake-charmer, Rāhula's mother was Sumanā, Sariputta was Uggasena, and I was myself Campezya King of the Snakes."

Footnotes

282:1 Reading with two MS., patthayamāno.
282:2 The six devalokā.
283:1 No. 543 (vi. 157 Pali).
283:2 No. 524 (v. 161 Pali).
283:3 Reputed to be poisonous. Compare ii. 55 and 206 of this translation.
284:1 These appear to be technical terms.
284:2 That is, by his swift motion giving the appearance of thousands of hoods.
285:1 Fourteenth and fifteenth are named.
286:1 This couplet, and half the next, occur above, p. 422.
286:2 Reading saṁvaṭṭaye, as Fausball suggests.
287:1 "The serpent tribe" is the literal translation.
288:1 See Schol. p. 142.
288:2 Bronze thunderbolts, shaped somewhat like those which Zeus grasps in Greek vase paintings, are still used in North India as charms.
289:1 Cassia Fistula.
289:2 Bignonia Suaveolens.
289:3 See above, p. 280; and iii. 306 (translation, p. 190).

 

Om Tat Sat
                                                        
(Continued...) 

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