Wednesday, January 8, 2014

THE JĀTAKA OR STORIES OF THE BUDDHA'S FORMER BIRTHS (Book -3) -12
















THE JĀTAKA

OR
STORIES OF THE BUDDHA'S FORMER BIRTHS


No. 379.

NERU-JĀTAKA.

"Ravens and crows," etc.—The Master told this tale in Jetavana concerning a certain Brother. The story is that he got the forms of meditation from the Master and then went to a frontier village. There the people, pleased with his deportment, fed him, built him a hut in the wood, and exacting a promise, made him live there, and gave him great honour. But they forsook him for the teachers of the permanence of matter, afterwards forsaking those for the sect who deny immortality, and those again for the sect of naked ascetics: for teachers of all these sects came among them in turn. So he was unhappy

among those people who knew not good and evil, and after the rains and the pavāra1 he went back to the Master, and at his request told him where he had stayed during the rains and that he had been unhappy among people who knew not good and evil. The Master said, "Sages of old, even when born as beasts, stayed not a day among those who knew not good and evil, why have you done so?" and so he told the tale.

Once upon a time when Brahmadatta was king in Benares, the Bodhisatta was born as a golden goose. Along with his younger brother [247] he lived on the hill Cittakūa and fed on wild paddy in the Himālaya. One day in their flight back to Cittakūa they saw the golden mountain Neru and settled on its summit. Around the mountain dwell birds and beasts of various kinds for feeding ground: from the time of their coming to the mountain onwards they became golden of hue from its lustre. The Bodhisatta's brother saw this, but being ignorant of the cause said, "Now what is the cause here?" and so talking to his brother he spoke two stanzas:
Ravens and crows, and we the best of birds,
    When on this mountain, all appear the same.
Mean jackals rival tigers and their lords,
    The lions: what can be the mountain's name?

The Bodhisatta hearing this spoke the third stanza:
Noblest of Mountains, Neru is it hight,
All animals are here made fair to sight.
The younger one hearing this spoke the remaining three stanzas:
Where’er the good find honour small or none,
Or less than others, live not, but begone.
Dull and clever, brave and coward, all are honoured equally:
Undiscriminating Mountain, good men will not stay on thee!

[248] Best, indifferent and meanest Neru does not separate,
Undiscriminating Neru, we alas! must leave thee straight.

With this they both flew up and went to Cittakūa.

After the lesson, the Master proclaimed the Truths and identified the Birth: at the close of the Truths, that Brother was established in the fruition of the First Path: "At that time the younger goose was Ānanda, the elder was myself."

Footnotes

159:1 If Sumedha is a proper name, this must be taken from another story: but it may mean merely "wise."
160:1 The festival at the end of the rains.


No. 380.

ĀSAKA-JĀTAKA.
"In heavenly garden," etc.—The Master told this tale while dwelling at Jetavana, concerning the temptation of a Brother by his former wife. The occasion will appear in the Indriya 1 Birth. The Master found that the brother was backsliding owing to thoughts of his wife, so he said, "Sir, this woman does you harm: formerly also for her sake you sacrificed an army of the four divisions and dwelt in the Himālaya three years in much misery": so he told an old tale.

Once upon a time when Brahmadatta was king in Benares, the Bodhisatta was born in a brahmin family at a village of that country. When he grew up, he learned the arts [249] at Takkasilā, became an ascetic and reaching the Faculties and Attainments lived on roots and fruits in the Himālaya. At that time a being of perfect merit fell from the Heaven of the Thirty-three and was conceived as a girl inside a lotus in a pool: and when the other lotuses grew old and fell, that one grew great and stood. The ascetic coming to bathe saw it and thought, "The other lotuses fall, but this one is grown great and stands; why is this?" So he put on his bathing-dress and crossed to it, then opening the lotus he saw the girl. Feeling towards her as to a daughter he took her to his hut and tended her. When she came to sixteen years, she was beautiful, and in her beauty excelled the hue of man, but attained not the hue of gods. Sakka came to wait on the Bodhisatta. He saw the maiden, asked and was told the way in which she was found, and then asked, "What ought she to receive?" "A dwelling-place and supply of raiment, ornament and food, O sir." He answered, "Very well, lord," and created a crystal palace for her dwelling, made for her a bed, raiment and ornament, food and drink divine. The palace descended and rested on the ground when she was going up; when she had gone up it ascended and stayed in the air. She did various services to the Bodhisatta as she lived in the palace. A forester saw this and asked, "What is this person to you, lord?" "My daughter." So he went to Benares and told the king, "O king, I have seen in the Himālaya a certain ascetic's daughter of such beauty." The king was caught by hearing this, and making the forester his guide he went with an army of the four divisions to that place, and pitching a camp he took the forester and his retinue of ministers and entered the hermitage. [250] He saluted the Bodhisatta and said, "Lord, women are a stain to the religious life; I will tend your daughter."
  Now the Bodhisatta had given the maiden the name Āsakā because she was brought to him by his crossing the water owing to his doubt (āsakā), "What is in this lotus?" He did not say to the king directly, "Take her and go," but said, "If you know this maiden's name, O great king, take her and go." "Lord, if you tell it, I shall know." "I shall not tell it, but when you know it take her and depart." The king agreed, and thenceforth considered along with his ministers, "What may be her name?" He put forward all names hard to guess and talked with the Bodhisatta, saying, "Such and such will be her name": but the Bodhisatta said nay and refused him. So a year passed while the king was considering. Lions and other beasts seized his elephants and horses and men, there was danger from snakes, danger from flies, and many died worn out with cold. The king said to the Bodhisatta, "What need have I of her?" and took his way. The maiden Āsakā stood at an open crystal window. The king seeing her said, "We cannot find your name, live here in the Himālaya, we will depart." "Great king, if you go you will never find a wife like me. In the Heaven of the Thirty-three, in the Cittalatā garden, there is a creeper named Āsāvatī: in its fruit a divine drink is born, and they who drink of it once are intoxicated for four months and lie on a divine couch: it bears fruit once in a thousand years and the sons of the gods, though given to strong drink, [251] bear with their thirst for that divine drink saying, "We shall reap fruit from this," and come constantly throughout the thousand years to watch the plant saying, "Is it well?" But you grow discontented in one year: he who wins the fruit of his hope is happy, be not discontented yet," and so she spoke three stanzas:
In heavenly garden grows Āsāvatī;
Once in a thousand years, no more, the tree
Bears fruit: for it the gods wait patiently.
Hope on, O king, the fruit of hope is sweet:
A bird hoped on and never own’d defeat.
His wish, though far away, he won complete:
Hope on, O king: the fruit of hope is sweet.
The king was caught by her words: he gathered his ministers again and guessed at the name, making ten guesses each time till another year was past. But her name was not among the ten, and so the Bodhisatta refused him. Again the king said, "What need have I of her?" and took his way. She showed herself at the window: and the king said, "You stay, we will depart." [252] "Why depart, great king?" "I cannot find your name." "Great king, why can you not find it? Hope is not without success; a crane staying on a hill-top won his wish: why can you not win it? Endure, great king. A crane had its feeding-ground in a lotus-pool, but flying up lit on a hill-top: he stayed there that day and next day thought, "I am happily settled on this hill-top: if without going down I stay here finding food and drinking water and so dwell this day, Oh it

would be delightful." That very day Sakka, King of heaven, had crushed the Asuras and being now lord in the heaven of the Thirty-three was thinking, "My wishes have come to the pitch of fulfilment, is there any one in he forest whose wishes are unfulfilled?" So considering, he saw that crane and thought, "I will bring this bird's wishes to the pitch of fulfilment": not far from the crane's place of perch there is a stream, and Sakka sent the stream in full flood to the hill-top: so the crane without moving ate fish and drank water and dwelt there that day: then the water fell and went away: so, great king, the crane won fruition of that hope of his, and why will you not win it? Hope on," she said, with the rest of the verse. The king, hearing her tale, was caught by her beauty and attracted by her words: he could not go away, but gathering his ministers, and getting a hundred names [253] spent another year in guessing with these hundred names. At the end of three years he came to the Bodhisatta and asked, "Will that name be among the hundred, lord?" "You do not know it, great king." He saluted the Bodhisatta, and saying, "We will go now," he took his way. The maiden Āsakā again stood by a crystal window. The king saw her and said, "You stay, we will depart." "Why, great king?" "You satisfy me with words, but not with love: caught by your sweet words I have spent here three years, now I will depart," and he uttered these stanzas:
You please me but with words and not in deed:
The scentless flower, though fair, is but a weed.
Promise fair without performance on his friends one throws away,
Never giving, ever hoarding: such is friendship's sure decay.
Men should speak when they will act, not promise what they cannot do:
If they talk without performing, wise men see them through and through.
My troops are wasted, all my stores are spent,
I doubt my life is spoilt: ’tis time I went.
[254] The maiden Āsakā hearing the king's words said, "Great king, you know my name, you have just said it; tell my father my name, take me and go," so talking with the king, she said:
Prince, you have said the word that is my name:
Come, king: my father will allow the claim.
The king went to the Bodhisatta, saluted and said, "Lord, your daughter is named Āsakā." "From the time you know her name, take her and go, great king." He saluted the Bodhisatta, and coming to the crystal palace he said, "Lady, your father has given you to me, come now." "Come, great king, I will get my father's leave," she said, and coming down from the palace she saluted the Bodhisatta, got his consent and came to the king. The king took her to Benares and lived happily with her, increased with sons and daughters. The Bodhisatta continued in unbroken meditation and was born in the Brahma world.


After the lesson, the Master declared the Truths and identified the Birth: After the Truths, the Brother was established in the Fruition of the First Path:—"Āsakā was the former wife, the king was the discontented Brother, the ascetic was myself."

Footnotes

161:1 No. 423, infra.



No. 381.

MIGĀLOPA-JĀTAKA. 1

[255] "Your ways, my son," etc.—The Master told this tale in Jetavana, of an unruly Brother. The Master asked the Brother, "Are you really unruly?" He said, "Yes, lord": and the Master saying, "You are not unruly for the first time; formerly too through unruliness you did not the bidding of the wise and met your death by the Verambha 2 winds," told an old-world tale.

Once upon a time when Brahmadatta was king in Benares, the Bodhisatta was born as a vulture by name Aparaṇṇagijjha, and dwelt among a retinue of vultures in Gijjhapabbata (Vulture Mountain). His son, Migālopa by name, was exceedingly strong and mighty; he flew high above the reach of the other vultures. They told their king that his son flew very far. He called Migālopa, and saying, "Son, they say you fly too high: if you do, you will bring death on yourself," spoke three stanzas:
Your ways, my son, to me unsafe appear,
You soar too high, above our proper sphere.
When earth is but a square field to your sight,
Turn back, my son, and dare no higher flight.

Other birds on soaring pinions lofty flight e’er now have tried,
Struck by furious wind and tempest they have perished in their pride.

[256] Migālopa through disobedience did not do his father's bidding, but rising and rising he passed the limit his father told him, clove even the Black Winds when he met them, and flew upwards till he met the Verambha winds in the face. They struck him, and at their mere stroke he fell into pieces and disappeared in the air.

His aged father's wise commands disdained,
Beyond the Black, Verambha Winds he gained.
His wife, his children, all his household herd,
All came to ruin through that froward bird.

So they who heed not what their elders say,
Like this proud vulture beyond bounds astray,
Meet ruin, when right rules they disobey.


After the lesson the Master identified the Birth: "At that time Migālopa was the unruly Brother, Aparaṇṇa was myself."

Footnotes

164:1 Cf. no. 427 infra.
164:2 A wind so called from a sea of the same name, see Divyāvadāna, p. 105.



No. 382.

SIRIKĀLAKAṆṆI-JĀTAKA.

[257] "Who is this," etc.—The Master told this tale in Jetavana concerning Anāthapiṇḍika. From the time when he was established in the fruition of the First Path he kept all the five first commandments unbroken; so also did his wife, his sons and daughters, his hired servants and his workpeople. One day in the Hall of Truth they began to discuss whether Anāthapiṇḍika was pure in his walk and his household also. The Master came and was told their subject: so he said, "Brethren, the wise men of old had pure households," and told an old tale.

Once upon a time when Brahmadatta was king in Benares, the Bodhisatta was a merchant, giving gifts, keeping the commands, and performing the fast day duties: and so his wife kept the five commands, and so also did his sons, his daughters and his servants and workpeople. So he was called the merchant Suciparivāra (pure household). He thought, "If one of purer morals than I should come, it would not be proper to give him my couch to sit on or my bed to lie on, but to give him one pure and unused": so he had an unused couch and bed prepared on one side in his presence-chamber. At that time in the Heaven of the Four Kings 1 Kālakaṇṇī, daughter of Virūpakkha, and Sirī, daughter of Dhataraṭṭha, both together took many perfumes and garlands and went on the lake Anotatta to play there. Now on that lake there are many bathing places:

the Buddhas bathe at their own place, the paccekabuddhas at theirs, [258] the Brethren at theirs, the ascetics at theirs, the gods of the six Kāma-heavens 1 at theirs, and the goddesses at theirs. These two came thither and began to quarrel as to which of them should bathe first. Kālakaṇṇī said, "I rule the world: it is proper that I bathe first." Sirī said, "I preside over the course of conduct that gives lordship to mankind: it is proper that I bathe first." Then both said, "The Four Kings will know which of us ought to bathe first": so they went to them and asked which of the two was worthy to bathe first in Anotatta. Dhataraṭṭha and Virūpakkha said, "We cannot decide," and laid the duty on Virūha and Vessavaa. They too said, "We cannot decide, we will send it to our Lord's feet": so they sent it to Sakka. He heard their tale and thought, "Those two are the daughters of my vassals; I cannot decide this case ": so he said to them, "There is in Benares a merchant called Suciparivāra; in his house are prepared an unused couch and bed: she who can first sit or lie there is the proper one to bathe first." Kālakaṇṇī hearing this on the instant put on blue 2 raiment and used blue ointment and decked herself with blue jewels: she descended from the heaven as on a stone from a catapult, and just after the mid-watch of night she stood in the air, diffusing a blue light, not far from the merchant who was lying on a couch in the presence-chamber of his mansion. The merchant [259] looked and saw her: but to his eyes she was ungracious and unlovely. Talking to her he spoke the first stanza:
Who is this so dark of hue,
So unlovely to the view?
Who are you, whose daughter, say,
How are we to know you, pray?
Hearing him, Kālakaṇṇī spoke the second stanza:
The great king Virūpakkha is my sire:
I am Misfortune, Kālaka
ṇṇī dire:
Give me the house-room near you I desire.
Then the Bodhisatta spoke the third stanza:
What the conduct, what the ways,
    Of the men with whom you dwell
This is what my question prays:
    We will mark the answer well.
Then she, explaining her own qualities, spoke the fourth stanza:
The hypocrite, the wanton, the morose,
    The man of envy, greed and treachery:
Such are the friends I love: and I dispose
    Their gains that they may perish utterly.

[260] She spoke also the fifth, sixth, and seventh stanzas:
And dearer still are ire and hate to me,
Slander and strife, libel and cruelty.
The shiftless wight who knows not his own good,
Resenting counsel, to his betters rude:

The man whom folly drives, whom friends despise,
He is my friend, in him my pleasure lies.

[261] Then the Great Being, blaming her, spoke the eighth stanza:
Kāli, depart: there's naught to please you here:
To other lands and cities disappear.
Kālakaṇṇī, hearing him, was sorrowful and spoke another stanza:
I know you well: there's naught to please me here.
Others are luckless, who amass much gear;
My brother-god and I will make it disappear.
When she had gone, Sirī the goddess, coming with raiment and ointment of golden hue and ornament of golden brightness to the door of the presence-chamber, diffusing yellow light, rested with even feet on level ground and stood respectful. The Bodhisatta seeing her repeated the first stanza:
Who is this, divine of hue,
On the ground so firm and true?
Who are you, whose daughter, say,
How are we to know you, pray?
[262] Sirī, hearing him, spoke the second stanza:
The great king Dhataraṭṭha is my sire:
Fortune and Luck am I, and Wisdom men admire:
Grant me the house-room with you I desire.
Then
What the conduct, what the ways
    Of the men with whom you dwell?
This is what my question prays;
    We will mark your answer well.
He who in cold and heat, in wind and sun,
    Mid thirst and hunger, snake and poison-fly,
His present duty night and day hath done;
    With him I dwell and love him faithfully.

Gentle and friendly, righteous, liberal,
    Guileless and honest, upright, winning, bland,
Meek in high place: I tinge his fortunes all,
    Like waves their hue through ocean that expand. 1


To friend or unfriend, better, like or worse,
    Helper or foe, by dark or open day,
Whoso is kind, [263] without harsh word or curse,
    I am his friend, living or dead, alway.
But if a fool have won some love from me,
    And waxes proud and vain,
His froward path of wantonness I flee,
    Like filthy stain.

Each man's fortune and misfortune are his own work, not another's:
Neither fortune nor misfortune can a man make for his brothers.
Such was Sirī's answer when questioned by the merchant.
[264] The Bodhisatta rejoiced at Sirī's words, and said, "Here is the pure seat and bed, proper for you; sit and lie down there." She stayed there and in the morning departed to the Heaven of the Four Great Kings and bathed first in lake Anotatta. The bed used by Sirī was called Sirisaya: hence is the origin of Sirisayana, and for this reason it is so called to this day.

After the lesson the Master identified the Birth: "At that time the goddess Sirī was Uppalavaṇṇā, the merchant Suciparivāra was myself."

Footnotes

165:1 These are Dhataraṭṭha, King of the North, Virūha of the South, Virūpakkha of the West, and Vessavaa of the East.
166:1 Of which the Heaven of the Four Kings is the first.
166:2 Blue is the unlucky colour.
167:1 Perhaps vaṇṇam is really for the Sanskrit vṛṃhan increasing.


No. 383. 1

KUKKUA-JĀTAKA.

[265] "Bird with wings," etc.—The Master told this tale in Jetavana, concerning a Brother who longed for the world. The Master asked him, "Why do you long for the world?" "Lord, through passion, for I saw a woman adorned." "Brother, women are like cats, deceiving and cajoling to bring to ruin one who has come into their power," so he told an old tale.

Once upon a time when Brahmadatta was king in Benares, the Bodhisatta was born as a cock and lived in the forest with a retinue of many hundred cocks. Not far away lived a she-cat: and she deceived

by devices the other cocks except the Bodhisatta and ate them: but the Bodhisatta did not fall into her power. She thought, "This cock is very crafty, but he knows not that I am crafty and skilful in device: it is good that I cajole him, saying, "I will be your wife," and so eat him when he comes into my power." She went to the root of the tree where he perched, and praying him in a speech preceded by praise of his beauty, she spoke the first stanza:
Bird with wings that flash so gaily, crest that droops so gracefully,
I will be your wife for nothing, leave the bough and come to me.
The Bodhisatta hearing her thought, "She has eaten all my relatives; now she wishes to cajole me and eat me: I will get rid of her." So he spoke the second stanza:
Lady fair and winning, you have four feet, I have only two:
Beasts and birds should never marry: for some other husband sue.
[266] Then she thought, "He is exceedingly crafty; by some device or other I will deceive him and eat him "; so she spoke the third stanza:
I will bring thee youth and beauty, pleasant speech and courtesy:
Honoured wife or simple slave-girl, at thy pleasure deal with me.
Then the Bodhisatta thought, "It is best to revile her and drive her away," so he spoke the fourth stanza:
Thou hast drunk my kindred's blood, and robbed and slain them cruelly:
"Honoured wife"! there is no honour in your heart when wooing me.
She was driven away and did not endure to look at him again.
So when they see a hero, women sly,
(Compare the cat and cock,) to tempt him try.
He that to great occasion fails to rise
’Neath foeman's feet in sorrow prostrate lies.

[267] One prompt a crisis in his fate to see,
As cock from cat, escapes his enemy.

These are stanzas inspired by Perfect Wisdom.

His lesson ended, the Master declared the Truths and identified the Birth:—after the Truths, the backsliding Brother was established in the fruition of the First Path:—"At that time the cock was myself."

Footnotes

168:1 See Morris in Folk-lore Journal, ii. p. 332.


No. 384. 1

DHAMMADDHAJA-JĀTABA.

"Practise virtue," etc.—The Master told this tale while dwelling in Jetavana, of a deceitful Brother. He said, "Brethren, this man is not deceitful now for the first time": so he told an old-world tale.

Once upon a time when Brahmadatta was king in Benares, the Bodhisatta was born as a bird: when he grew up he lived amidst a retinue of birds on an island in the middle of the sea. Certain merchants of Kāsi got a travelled crow and started on a voyage by sea. In the midst of the sea the ship was wrecked. The crow reached that island and thought, "Here is a great flock of birds, it is good that I use deceit on them and eat their eggs and young": so he descended in their midst and opening his mouth stood with one foot on the ground. "Who are you, master?" they asked. "I am a holy person." "Why do you stand on one foot?" "If I put down the other one, [268] the earth could not bear me." "Then why do you stand with your mouth open?" "We eat no other food, we only drink the wind;" and with this he called these birds and saying, "I will give you a sermon, you listen," he spoke the first stanza by way of a sermon:
Practise virtue, brethren, bless you! practise virtue, I repeat:
Here and after virtuous people have their happiness complete.
The birds, not knowing that he said this with deceit to eat their eggs, praised him and spoke the second stanza:
Surely a righteous fowl, a blessed bird,
He preaches on one leg the holy word.
The birds, believing that wicked one, said, "Sir, you take no other food but feed on wind only: so pray watch our eggs and young," so they went to their feeding-ground. That sinner when they went away ate his bellyful of their eggs and young, and when they came again he stood calmly on one foot with his mouth open. The birds not seeing their children when they came made a great outcry, "Who can be eating them?" but saying, "This crow is a holy person," they do not even suspect him. Then one day the Bodhisatta thought, "There was nothing

wrong here formerly, it only began since this one came, it is good to try him": so making as if he were going to feed with the other birds he turned back and stood in a secret place. [269] The crow, confident because the birds were gone, rose and went and ate the eggs and young, then coming back stood on one foot with his mouth open. When the birds came, their king assembled them all and said, "I examined to-day the danger to our children, and I saw this wicked crow eating them, we will seize him": so getting the birds together and surrounding the crow he said, "If he flees, let us seize him," and spoke the remaining stanzas:
You know not his ways, when this bird you praise:
    You spoke with foolish tongue:
"Virtue," he'll say, and "Virtue" aye,
    But he eats our eggs and young.
The things he preaches with his voice
    His members never do:
His Virtue is an empty noise,
    His righteousness untrue.

At heart a hypocrite, his language charms,
    A black snake slinking to his hole is he:
He cozens by his outward coat of arms
    The country-folk in their simplicity.

Strike him down with beak and pinion,
    Tear him with your claws:
Death to such a dastard minion,
    Traitor to our cause.

[270] With these words the leader of the birds himself sprang up and struck the crow in the head with his beak, and the rest struck him with beaks and feet and wings: so he died.

At the end of the lesson, the Master identified the Birth: "At that time the crow was the deceitful Brother, the king of the birds was myself."

Footnotes

170:1 See Morris in Folk-lore Journal, ii. p. 304.


No. 385.

NANDIYAMIGA-JĀTAKA.

"Will you go to the King's Park," etc.—The Master told this in Jetavana, of a Brother who supported his mother. He asked the Brother, "Is it true that you support lay folk?" "Yes, lord." "What are they?" "My father and mother,

lord." "Well done, well done, Brother: you keep up the rule of the wise men of old, for they too even when born as beasts gave their life for their parents," and so he told an old tale.

Once upon a time when the Kosala king was reigning over the Kosalas in Sāketa (Oudh), the Bodhisatta was born as a deer; when he grew up he was named Nandiyamiga, and being excellent in character and conduct he supported his father and mother. The Kosala king was intent on the chase, and went every day to hunt ith a great retinue, so that his people could not follow farming and their trades. The people gathered together and consulted, saying, "Sirs, this king of ours is destroying our trades, our home-life is perishing; what if we were to enclose the Añjanavana park, providing a gate, digging a tank and sowing grass there, then go into the forest with sticks and clubs in our hands, beat the thickets, and so expelling the deer and driving them along force them into the park like cows into a pen? then we would close the gate, send word to the king and go about our trades." "That is the way," they said, and so with one will they made the park ready, and then entering the wood enclosed a space [271] of a league each way. At the time Nandiya had taken his father and mother into a little thicket and was lying on the ground. The people with various shields and weapons in their hands encircled the thicket arm to arm; and some entered it looking for deer. Nandiya saw them and thought, "It is good that I should abandon life to-day and give it for my parents," so rising and saluting his parents he said, "Father and mother, these men will see us three if they enter this thicket; you can survive only in one way, and your life is best: I will give you the gift of your life, standing by the skirts of the thicket and going out as soon as they beat it: then they will think there can be only one deer in this little thicket and so will not enter: be heedful": so he got their permission and stood ready to run. As soon as the thicket was beaten by the people standing at its skirts and shouting he came out, and they thinking there would be only one deer there did not enter. Nandiya went among the other deer, and the people drove them along into the park; then closing the gate they told the king and went to their own homes. From that time the king always went himself and shot a deer; then he either took it and went away, or sent for it and had it fetched. The deer arranged their turns, and he to whom the turn came stood on one side: and they take him when shot. Nandiya drank water from the tank, and ate the grass, but his turn did not come yet. Then after many days his parents longing to see him thought, "Our son Nandiya, king of deer, was strong as an elephant and of perfect health: if he is alive he will certainly leap the fence and come to see us; we will send him [272] word": so they stood near the road and

seeing a brahmin they asked in human voice, "Sir, where are you going?" "To Sāketa," he said; so sending a message to their son they spoke the first stanza:
Will you go to the King's Park, brahmin, when Oudh you're travelling through?
Find out our dear son Nandiya and tell him our message true,
"Your father and mother are stricken in years and their hearts are fain for you."
The brahmin, saying, "It is well," accepted, and going to Sāketa next day entered the park, and asked "Which is Nandiya?" The deer came near him and said, "I." The brahmin told his message. Nandiya, hearing it, said, "I might go, brahmin; I might certainly leap the fence and go: but I have enjoyed regular food and drink from the king, and this stands to me as a debt: besides I have lived long among these deer, and it is improper for me to go away without doing good to this king and to them, or without showing my strength: but when my turn comes I will do good to them and come gladly": and so explaining this, he spoke two stanzas:
I owe the King my daily drink and food:
I cannot go till I have made it good.
To the King's arrows I'll expose my side:
Then see my mother and be justified.

[273] The brahmin hearing this went away. Afterwards on the day when his turn came, the king with a great retinue came into the park. The Bodhisatta stood on one side: and the king saying, "I will shoot the deer," fitted a sharp arrow to the string. The Bodhisatta did not run away as other animals do when scared by the fear of death, but fearless and making his charity his guide he stood firm, exposing his side with mighty ribs. The king owing to the efficacy of his love could not discharge the arrow. The Bodhisatta said, "Great king, why do you not shoot the arrow? shoot!" "King of deer, I cannot." "Then see the merit of the virtuous 1, O great king." Then the king, pleased with the Bodhisatta, dropped his bow and said, "This senseless length of wood knows your merit: shall I who have sense and am a man not know it? forgive me; I give you security." "Great king, you give me security, but what will this herd of deer in the park do?" "I give it to them too." So the Bodhisatta, having gained security for all deer in the park, for birds in the air and fishes in the water, in the way described in the Nigrodha Birth, established the king in the five commands and said, "Great king, it is good for a king to rule a kingdom by forsaking the ways of wrongdoing, not offending against the ten kingly virtues and acting with just righteousness.

[274]
Alms, morals, charity, justice and penitence,
Peace, mildness, mercy, meekness, patience:
These virtues planted in my soul I feel,
Thence springs up Love and perfect inward weal."

With these words he showed forth the kingly virtues in the form of a stanza, and after staying some days with the king he sent a golden drum round the town, proclaiming the gift of security to all beings: and then saying, "O king, be watchful," he went to see his parents.
Of old in Oudh a king of deer I hight,
By name and nature, Nandiya, Delight.
To kill me in his deer-park came the King,
His bow was bent, his arrow on the string.

To the King's arrow I exposed my side;
Then saw my mother and was justified.

These were the stanzas inspired by Perfect Wisdom.

At the end, the Master declared the Truths, and identified the Birth:—At the end of the Truths, the Brother who supported his mother was established in the First Path:—"At that time the father and mother were members of the royal family, the brahmin was Sāriputta, the king Ānanda, the deer myself."

Footnotes

173:1 There is a pun here on guam which means merit or string.


No. 386.

KHARAPUTTA-JĀTAKA. 1

[275] "Goats are stupid," etc.—The Master told this tale in Jetavana, concerning temptation of a Brother by his former wife. When the Brother confessed that he was longing for the world, the Master said, "Brother, this woman does you harm: formerly also you came into the fire through her and were saved from death by sages," so he told an old tale.

Once upon a time when a king named Senaka was reigning in Benares, the Bodhisatta was Sakka. The king Senaka was friendly with a certain nāga-king. This nāga-king, they say, left the nāga-world and ranged the

earth seeking food. The village boys seeing him said, "This is a snake," and struck him with clods and other things. The king, going to amuse himself in his garden, saw them, and being told they were beating a snake, said, "Don't let them beat him, drive them away "; and this was done. So the nāga-king got his life, and when he went back to the nāga-world, he took many jewels, and coming at midnight to the king's bedchamber he gave them to him, saying, "I got my life through you": so he made friendship with the king and came again and again to see him. He appointed one of his nāga girls, insatiate in pleasures, to be near the king and protect him: and he gave the king a charm, saying, "If ever you do not see her, repeat this charm." One day the king went to the garden with the nāga girl and was amusing himself in the lotus-tank. The nāga girl seeing a water-snake quitted her human shape and made love with him. The king not seeing the girl said, [276] "Where is she gone?" and repeated the spell: then he saw her in her misconduct and struck her with a piece of bamboo. She went in anger to the nāga-world, and when she was asked, "Why are you come?" she said, "Your friend struck me on the back because I did not do his bidding," shewing the mark of the blow. The nāga-king, not knowing the truth, called four nāga youths and sent them with orders to enter Senaka's bed chamber and destroy him like chaff by the breath of their nostrils. They entered the chamber at the royal bed-time. As they came in, the king was saying to the queen: "Lady, do you know where the nāga-girl has gone?" "King, I do not." "To-day when we were bathing in the tank, she quitted her shape and misconducted herself with a water-snake: I said, "Don't do that," and struck her with a piece of bamboo to give her a lesson: and now I fear she may have gone to the nāga-world and told some lie to my friend, destroying his good-will to me." The young nāgas hearing this turned back at once to the nāga-world and told their king. He being moved went instantly to the king's chamber, told him all and was forgiven: then be said, "In this way I make amends," and gave the king a charm giving knowledge of all sounds: "This, O king, is a priceless spell: if you give anyone this spell you will at once enter the fire and die." The king said, "It is well," and accepted it. From that time he understood the voice even of ants. One day he was sitting on the dais eating solid food with honey and molasses: and a drop of honey, a drop of molasses, and a morsel of cake fell on the ground. An ant seeing this comes crying, "The king's honey jar is broken on the dais, his molasses-cart [277] and cake-cart are upset; come and eat honey and molasses and cake." The king hearing the cry laughed. The queen being near him thought, "What has the king seen that he laughs?" When the king had eaten his solid food and bathed and sat down cross-legged, a fly said to his wife, "Come, lady, let us enjoy love." She said, "Excuse me for a little, husband: they

will soon be bringing perfumes to the king; as he perfumes himself some powder will fall at his feet: I will stay there and become fragrant, then we will enjoy ourselves lying on the king's back." The king hearing the voice laughed again. The queen thought again, "What has he seen that he laughs?" Again when the king was eating his supper, a lump of rice fell on the ground. The ants cried, "A wagon of rice has broken in the king's palace, and there is none to eat it." The king hearing this laughed again. The queen took a golden spoon and helping him reflected, "Is it at the sight of me that the king laughs?" She went to the bed-chamber with the king and at bed-time she asked, "Why did you laugh, O king?" He said, "What have you to do with why I laugh?" but being asked again and again he told her. Then she said, "Give me your spell of knowledge." He said, "It cannot be given": but though repulsed she pressed him again.
The king said, "If I give you this spell, I shall die." "Even though you die, give it me." The king, being in the power of womankind, saying, "It is well," consented and went to the park in a chariot, saying, "I shall enter the fire after giving away this spell." At that moment, Sakka, king of gods, looked down on the earth and seeing this case said, "This foolish king, knowing that he will enter the fire through womankind, is on his way; I will give him his life ": so he took Sujā, daughter of the Asuras, and went to Benares. [278] He became a he-goat and made her a she-goat, and resolving that the people should not see them, he stood before the king's chariot. The king and the Sindh asses yoked in the chariot saw him, but none else saw him. For the sake of starting talk he was as if making love with the she-goat. One of the Sindh asses yoked in the chariot seeing him said, "Friend goat, we have heard before, but not seen, that goats are stupid and shameless: but you are doing, with all of us looking on, this thing that should be done in secret and in a private place, and are not ashamed: what we have heard before agrees with this that we see:" and so he spoke the first stanza:
"Goats are stupid," says the wise man, and the words are surely true:
This one knows not he's parading what in secret he should do.
The goat hearing him spoke two stanzas:
O, sir donkey, think and realise your own stupidity,
You're tied with ropes, your jaw is wrenched, and very downcast is your eye.
When you're loosed, you don't escape, Sir, that's a stupid habit too:
And that Senaka you carry, he's more stupid still than you.

[279] The king understood the talk of both animals, and hearing it he quickly sent away the chariot. The ass hearing the goat's talk spoke the fourth stanza:

Well, Sir king of goats, you fully know my great stupidity:
But how Senaka is stupid, prithee do explain to me.
The goat explaining this spoke the fifth stanza:
He who his own special treasure on his wife will throw away,
Cannot keep her faithful ever and his life he must betray.
The king hearing his words said, "King of goats, you will surely act for my advantage: tell me now what is right for me to do." Then the goat said, "King, to all animals no one is dearer than self: it is not good [280] to destroy oneself and abandon the honour one has gained for the sake of anything that is dear": so he spoke the sixth stanza:—
A king, like thee, may have conceived desire
    And yet renounced it if his life's the cost:
Life is the chief thing: what can man seek higher?
    If life's secured, desires need ne’er be crossed.
So the Bodhisatta exhorted the king. The king, delighted, asked, "King of goats, whence come you?" "I am Sakka, O king, come to save you from death out of pity for you." "King of gods, I promised to give her the charm: what am I to do now?" "There is no need for the ruin of both of you: you say, "It is the way of the craft," and have her beaten with some blows: by this means she will not get it." The king said, "It is well," and agreed. The Bodhisatta after exhortation to the king went to Sakka's heaven. The king went to the garden, had the queen summoned and then said, "Lady, will you have the charm?" "Yes, lord." "Then go through the usual custom." "What custom?" "A hundred stripes [281] on the back, but you must not make a sound." She consented through greed for the charm. The king made his slaves take whips and beat her on both sides. She endured two or three stripes and then cried, "I don't want the charm." The king said, "You would have killed me to get the charm," and so flogging the skin off her back he sent her away. After that she could not bear to talk of it again.

At the end of the lesson the Master declared the Truths, and identified the Birth:—at the end of the Truths, the Brother was established in the First Path:—"At that time the king was the discontented brother, the queen his former wife, the steed Sāriputta, and Sakka was myself."

Footnotes

174:1 For variants on this story see Benfey in Orient and Occident, vol. ii. pp. 133 ff., and the second story in the Arabian Nights.

No. 387.

SŪCI-JĀTAKA.

"Quickly threaded," etc.—The Master told this tale while dwelling in Jetavana, concerning the perfection of wisdom. The occasion of the tale will be given in the Mahāummagga 1. The Master addressed the brethren, "This is not the first time the Tathāgata is wise and skilled in devices," and so he told an old tale.

Once upon a time when Brahmadatta was king in Benares, the Bodhisatta was born in the kingdom of Kāsi in a smith's family, and when he grew up he became excellent in the craft. His parents were poor. Not far from their village was another smith's village of a thousand houses. The principal smith of the thousand was a favourite of the king, rich and of great substance. His daughter was exceedingly beautiful, like to a nymph of heaven, with all the auspicious marks of a lady of the land. People came from the villages round to have razors, axes, ploughshares and goads made, and generally saw that maiden. When they went back to their own villages, they praised her beauty [282] in the places where men sit and elsewhere. The Bodhisatta, being attracted by merely hearing of her, thought, "I will make her my wife": so he took iron of the best kind, and made one delicate strong needle which pierced dice and floated on water: then he made a sheath for it of the same kind and pierced dice with it: and in the same way he made seven sheaths: how he made them is not to be told, for such work prospers through the greatness of Bodhisattas' knowledge. Then he put the needle in a tube and placing it in a case he went to that village and asked for the street where the head-smith's house was: then standing at the door he said, "Who will buy for money from my hand a needle of this kind?" describing the needle, and so standing by the head-smith's house he spoke the first stanza:—
Quickly threaded, smooth and straight,
    Polished with emery,
Sharp of point and delicate,
    Needles! who will buy?
After this he praised it again and spoke the second stanza:—
Quickly threaded, strong and straight,
    Rounded properly,
Iron they will penetrate,
    Needles! who will buy?

[283] At that moment the maiden was fanning her father with a palm-leaf as he lay on a little bed to allay discomfort after his early meal, and hearing the Bodhisatta's sweet voice, as if she had been sickened by a fresh lump of meat, and had the discomfort extinguished by a thousand pots of water, she said, "Who is this hawking needles with sweet voice in a village of smiths? For what business has he come? I will find out": so laying down the palm-fan she went out and spoke with him outside, standing in the verandah. The purpose of Bodhisattas prospers: it was for her sake he had come to that village. She speaking with him said, "Young man, dwellers in all the kingdom come to this village for needles and the like: it is in folly you wish to sell needles in a village of smiths; though you declare the praise of your needle all day no one will take it from your hand; if you wish to get a price, go to another village": so she spoke two stanzas:—
Our hooks are sold, both up and down,
    Men know our needles well:
We all are smiths in this good town:
    Needles! who can sell?
In iron-work we have renown,
    In weapons we excel:
We all are smiths in this good town:
    Needles! who can sell?

The Bodhisatta hearing her words said, "Lady, you say this not knowing and in ignorance ": and so he spoke two stanzas:—
[284]
Though all are smiths in this good town,
    Yet skill can needles sell;
For masters in the craft will own
    A first-rate article.
Lady, if once your father know
    This needle made by me;
On me your hand he would bestow
    And all his property.

The head-smith hearing all their talk called his daughter and asked, "Who is that you are talking to?" "Father, a man selling needles." "Then call him here." She went and called him. The Bodhisatta saluted the head-smith and stood by. The head-smith asked, "Of what village are you?" "I am of such a village and son of such a smith." "Why are you come here?" "To sell needles." "Come, let us see your needle." [285] The Bodhisatta, wishing to declare his qualities among them all, said, "Is not a thing seen in the midst of all better than one seen by each singly?" "Quite right, friend." So he gathered all the smiths together and in their midst said, "Sir, take the needle." "Master, have an anvil brought and a bronze dish full of water." This was done. The Bodhisatta took the needle-tube from the wrapper and gave it to

them. The head-smith taking it asked, "Is this the needle?" "No, it is not the needle, it is the sheath." He examining could not see end nor tip. The Bodhisatta, taking it from them, drew off the sheath with his nail and showing it to the people with "This is the needle, this is the sheath," he put the needle in the master's hand and the sheath at his feet. Again when the master said, "This is the needle, I suppose," he answered, "This too is a needle-sheath": then he struck it off with his nail, and so he laid six sheaths in succession at the head-smith's feet and saying, "Here is the needle," laid it on his hand. The thousand smiths snapped their fingers in delight, and the waving of cloths began; then the head-smith asked, "Friend, what is the strength of this needle?" "Master, have this anvil raised up by a strong man and a water-vessel set under the anvil: then strike the needle straight into the anvil." He had this done and struck the needle by the point into the anvil. The needle 1 piercing the anvil lay across on the surface of the water not moving a hair's breadth up or down. All the smiths said, "We have never heard all this time even by rumour that there are such smiths as this:" so they snapped their fingers and waved a thousand cloths. [286] The head-smith called his daughter and in the midst of the assembly saying, "This maiden is a suitable match for you," he poured water on 2 them and gave her away. And afterwards when the head-smith died the Bodhisatta became head-smith in the village.

After the lesson, the Master declared the Truths and identified the Birth: "The smith's daughter was Rāhula's mother, the clever young smith was myself."

Footnotes

178:1 No. 546, vol. VI.




No. 388.

TUṆḌILA-JĀTAKA.

"Something strange to-day," etc. The Master told this tale while dwelling in Jetavana, concerning a brother who feared death. He was born in Sāvatthi of good family and was ordained in the Faith: but he feared death and when he heard even a little moving of a bough, or falling of a stick or voice of bird or

beast or any such thing, he was frightened by the fear of death, and went away shaking like a hare wounded in the belly. The Brethren in the Hall of Truth began to discuss, saying, "Sirs, they say a certain Brother, fearing death, runs away shaking when he hears even a little sound: now to beings in this world death is certain, life uncertain, and should not this be wisely borne in mind?" The Master found that this was their subject and that the Brother allowed he was afraid of death: so he said, "Brethren, he is not afraid of death for the first time," and so he told an old tale.

Once upon a time when Brahmadatta was king in Benares, the Bodhisatta was conceived by a wild sow: in due time she brought forth two male young. One day she took them and lay down in a pit. An old woman of a village at the gate of Benares was coming home with a basket-full of cotton from the cotton field [287] and tapping the ground with her stick. The sow heard the sound, and in fear of death left her young and ran away. The old woman saw the young pigs, and feeling towards them as to children of her own she put them in the basket and took them home: then she called the elder Mahātuṇḍila (Big-snout), the younger Cullatuṇḍila (Little-snout), and reared them like children. In time they grew up and became fat. When the old woman was asked to sell them for money, she answered, "They are my children," and would not sell them. On a certain feast-day some lewd fellows were drinking strong drink, and when their meat was done they considered where they could get meat: finding out that there were pigs in the old woman's house, they took money and going there, said, "Mother, take this money and give us one of those pigs." She said, "Enough, young men: are there people who would give their children to buyers to eat their flesh?" and so refused them. The fellows said, "Mother, pigs cannot be children of men, give them to us": but they could not get this though they asked again and again. Then they made the old woman drink strong drink, and when she was drunk, saying, "Mother, what will you do with the pigs? take the money and spend it," they put pieces of money in her hand. She took the pieces saying, "I cannot give you Mahātuṇḍila, take Cullatuṇḍila." "Where is he?" "There he is in that bush." "Call him." "I don't see any food for him." The fellows sent for a vessel of rice at a price. The old woman took it, and filling the pig's trough which stood at the door she waited by it. Thirty fellows stood by with nooses in their hands. The old woman called him, "Come, little Cullatuṇḍila, come." [288] Mahātuṇḍila, hearing this, thought, "All this time mother has never given the call to Cullatuṇḍila, she always calls me first; certainly some danger must have arisen for us to-day." He told his younger brother, saying, "Brother, mother is calling you, go and find out." He went out, and seeing them standing by the food-trough he thought, "Death is come upon me to-day,"

and so in fear of death he turned back shaking to his brother; and when he came back he could not contain himself but reeled about shaking. Mahātuṇḍila seeing him said, "Brother, you are shaking to-day and reeling and watching the entrance: why are you doing so?" He, explaining the thing that he had seen, spoke the first stanza:—
Something strange to-day I fear:
    The trough is full, and mistress by;
Men, noose in hand, are standing near:
    To eat appears a jeopardy.
Then the Bodhisatta hearing him said, "Brother Cullatuṇḍila, the purpose for which my mother rears pigs all this time [289] has to-day come to its fulfilment: do not grieve," and so with sweet voice and the ease of a Buddha he expounded the law and spoke two stanzas:—
You fear, and look for aid, and quake,
    But, helpless, whither can you flee?
We're fattened for our flesh's sake:
    Eat, Tu
ṇḍila, and cheerfully.
Plunge bold into the crystal pool,
    Wash all the stains of sweat away:
You'll find our ointment wonderful,
    Whose fragrance never can decay.

As he considered the Ten Perfections, setting the Perfection of Love before him as his guide, and uttered the first line, his voice reached and extended to Benares over the whole twelve leagues. At the instant of hearing it, the people of Benares from kings and viceroys downwards came, and those who did not come stood listening in their houses. The king's men breaking down the bush levelled the ground and scattered sand. The drunkenness left the lewd fellows, and throwing away the nooses they stood listening to the law: and the old woman's drunkenness left her also. The Bodhisatta began to preach the law to Cullatuṇḍila among the multitude.
[290] Cullatuṇḍila hearing him, thought, "My brother says so to me: but it is never our custom to plunge into the pool, and by bathing to wash away sweat from our bodies and after taking away old stain to get new ointment: why does my brother say so to me?" So he spoke the fourth stanza:—
But what is that fair crystal pool,
    And what the stains of sweat, I pray?
And what the ointment wonderful,
    Whose fragrance never can decay?
The Bodhisatta hearing this said, "Then listen with attentive ear," and so expounding the law with the ease of a Buddha he spoke these stanzas:—

The law is the fair crystal pool,
    Sin is the stain of sweat, they say:
Virtue's the ointment wonderful,
    Whose fragrance never will decay.
Men that lose their life are glad,
    Men that keep it feel annoy:
Men should die and not be sad,
    As at mid-month's festal joy.

[292] So the Great Being expounded the law in a sweet voice with a Buddha's charm. The multitude by thousands snapped their fingers and waved their cloths, and the air was full of the cry, "Good, good." The king of Benares honoured the Bodhisatta with royal place, and giving glory to the old woman he caused both pigs to be bathed in perfumed water, and clothed with robes, and ornamented with jewels on the neck, and put them in the position of his sons in the city: so he guarded them with a great retinue. The Bodhisatta gave the five commands to the king, and all the inhabitants of Benares and Kāsi kept the commands. The Bodhisatta preached the law to them on the holy days (new and full moon), and sitting in judgment decided cases: while he lived there were no bringers of unjust suits. Afterwards the king died. The Bodhisatta did the last honours to his body: then he caused a book of judgments to be written and said, "By observing this book ye should settle suits ": so having expounded the Law to the people and preached to them with zeal, he went to the forest with Cullatuṇḍila while they all wept and lamented. Then the Bodhisatta's preaching went on for sixty thousand years.

[293] After the lesson, the Master declared the Truths and identified the Birth:—at the end of the Truths the Brother who feared death was established in the fruition of the first Path:—"In those days the king was Ānanda, Cullatuṇḍila was the Brother who fears death, the multitude was the Congregation, Mahātuṇḍila myself."

Footnotes

180:1 Reading adhikaraim: but we are not certain of the meaning.
180:2 See Colebrooke's Essays, vol. I. p. 232.


No. 389.

SUVAṆṆAKAKKAA-JĀTAKA.

"Gold-clawed creature," etc.—The Master told this tale when dwelling in the Bamboo-grove, of Ānanda's dying for his sake. The occasion is told in the Khandahāla 1 Birth about the hiring of bowmen, and in the Cullahasa 2 Birth

about the roar of the elephant Dhanapāla 1. Then they began a discussion in the Hall of Truth: "Sirs, has the Elder Ānanda, Treasurer of the Law, who attained all the wisdom possible to one still under discipline, given up his life for the Perfect Buddha when Dhanapāla came?" The Master came and was told the subject of their discussion: he said, "Brother, in former times also Ānanda gave up his life for me:" and so he told an old tale.

Once upon a time there was a brahmin village called Sālindiya on the east side of Rājagaha. The Bodhisatta was born there in that village in a Brahmin farmer's family. When he grew up he settled down and worked a farm of a thousand karīsas 22 in a district of Magadha to the north-east of the village. One day he had gone to the field with his men, and giving them orders to plough he went to a great pool at the end of the field to wash his face. In that pool there lives a crab of golden hue, beautiful and charming. The Bodhisatta having chewed his toothpick went down into the pool. When he was washing his mouth [294], the crab came near. Then he lifted up the crab and taking it laid it in his outer garment: and after doing his work in the field he put the crab again in the pool and went home. From that time when going to the field he always went first to that pool, laid the crab in his outer garment and then went about his work. So a strong feeling of confidence arose between them. The Bodhisatta came to the field constantly. Now in his eyes were seen the five graces and the three circles very pure. A she-crow in a nest on a palm in that corner of the field saw his eyes, and wishing to eat them said to the he-crow, "Husband, I have a longing." "Longing for what?" "I wish to eat the eyes of a certain brahmin." "Your longing is a bad one: who will be able to get them for you!" "I know that you can't: but in the ant-hill near our tree there lives a black snake: wait on him: he will bite the brahmin and kill him, then you will tear out his eyes and bring them to me." He agreed and afterwards waited on the black snake. The crab was grown great at the time when the seed sown by the Bodhisatta was sprouting. One day the snake said to the crow, "Friend, you are always waiting on me: what can I do for you?" "Sir, your female slave has taken a longing for the eyes of the master of this field: I wait on you in hopes of getting his eyes through your favour." The snake said, "Well, that is not difficult, you shall get them," and so encouraged him. Next day the snake lay waiting for the brahmin's coming, hidden [295] in the grass, by the boundary of the field where he came The Bodhisatta

entering the pool and washing his mouth felt a return of affection for the crab, and embracing it laid it in his outer garment and went to the field. The snake saw him come, and rushing swiftly forward bit him in the flesh of the calf and having made him fall on the spot fled to his ant-hill. The fall of the Bodhisatta, the spring of the golden crab from the garment, and the perching of the crow on the Bodhisatta's breast followed close on each other. The crow perching put his beak into the Bodhisatta's eyes. The crab thought, "It was through this crow that the danger came on my friend: if I seize him the snake will come," so seizing the crow by the neck with its claw firmly as if in a vice, he got weary and then loosed him a little. The crow called on the snake, "Friend, why do you forsake me and run away? this crab troubles me, come ere I die," and so spoke the first stanza: —
Gold-clawed creature with projecting eyes,
Tarn-bred, hairless, clad in bony shell,
He has caught me: hear my woeful cries!
Why do you leave a mate that loves you well?
The snake hearing him, made its hood large and came consoling the crow.

The Master explaining the case in his Perfect Wisdom spoke the second stanza—
[296]
The snake fell on the crab amain, his friend he'd not forsake:
Puffing his mighty hood he came: but the crab turned on the snake.

The crab being weary then loosed him a little. The snake thinking, "Crabs do not eat the flesh of crows nor of snakes, then for what reason does this one seize us?" in enquiry spoke the third stanza:—
’Tis not for the sake of food
    Crabs would seize a snake or crow:
Tell me, you whose eyes protrude,
    Why you take and grip us so?
Hearing him, the crab explaining the reason spoke two stanzas:—
This man took me from the pool,
    Great the kindness he has done;
If he dies, my grief is full:
    Serpent, he and I are one.
Seeing I am grown so great
    All would kill me willingly:
Fat and sweet and delicate,
    Crows at sight would injure me!

[297] Hearing him, the snake thought: "By some means I must deceive him and free myself and the crow." So to deceive him he spoke the sixth stanza:—

If you have seized us only for his sake,
    I'll take the poison from him: let him rise:
Quick! from the crow and me your pincers take;
    Till then the poison's sinking deep, he dies.
Hearing him the crab thought, "This one wishes to make me let these two go by some means and then run away, he knows not my skill in device; now I will loosen my claw so that the snake can move, but I will not free the crow," so he spoke the seventh stanza:—
[298]
I'll free the snake, but not the crow;
    The crow shall be a hostage bound:
Never shall I let him go
    Till my friend be safe and sound.
So saying he loosened his claw to let the snake go at his ease. The snake took away the poison and left the Bodhisatta's body free from it. He rose up well and stood in his natural hue. The crab thinking, "If these two be well there will be no prosperity for my friend, I will kill them," crushed both their heads like lotus-buds with his claws and took the life from them. The she-crow fled away from the place. The Bodhisatta spiked the snake's body with a stick and threw it on a bush, let the golden crab go free in the pool, bathed and then went to Sālindiya. From that time there was still greater friendship between him and the crab.

The lesson ended, the Master declared the Truths, and identifying the Birth spoke the last stanza:—
"Māra, was the dusky serpent, Devadatta was the crow,
Good Ānanda was the crab, and I the brahmin long ago."
At the end of the Truths many reached the First Path and the other Paths. The female crow was Cińcamānavikā, though this is not mentioned in the last stanza.

Footnotes

183:1 No. 542, vol. VI.
183:2 No. 533, vol. v.
184:1 See introductory story to No. 21, Vol. i.; Milindapañho, p. 207.
184:2 2 According to Childers, Pali Dictionary s.v. ammaam, this would be about eight thousand acres.


No. 390.

MAYHAKA-JĀTAKA.

[299] "Did we joy," etc.—The Master told this while dwelling in Jetavana, of a stranger merchant. There was in Sāvatthi a stranger merchant, rich and of great substance: he did not enjoy his wealth himself nor give it to others: if choice food of fine flavours was served he would not eat it, eating only broth of

rice-dust with sour gruel; if silken clothes perfumed with incense were brought him he had them removed, and wore clothes of coarse hair-cloth for sugar; if a chariot adorned with jewels and gold and drawn by high-bred horses were brought him, he had it taken away and went in a broken-down old chariot with a parasol of leaves overhead. All his life he did nothing with gifts or the other merits, and when he died he was born in the hell Roruva. His substance was heirless: and the king's men carried it into the palace in seven days and nights. When it was carried in, the king went after breakfast to Jetavana, and saluted the Master. When he was asked why lie did not wait regularly on Buddha, he answered, "Lord, a stranger merchant has died at Sāvatthi: seven days have been spent in carrying his wealth, to which he left no heir, into my house: but though he had all that wealth he neither enjoyed it himself nor gave it to others: his wealth was like lotus-tanks guarded by demons. One day he fell into the jaws of death after refusing to enjoy the flavour of choice meats and the like. Now why did that selfish and undeserving man gain all that wealth, and for what reason did he not incline his thoughts to the enjoyment of it?" This was the question he put to the Master. "Great king, the reason why he gained his wealth and yet did not enjoy it, was this," and so at his request the Master told a tale of old times.
Once upon a time when Brahmadatta was king in Benares, there was an unbelieving selfish merchant in Benares: he gave nothing to any one, he provided for no one. One day going to wait on the king he saw a paccekabuddha, named Tagarasikhi, begging, and saluting him he asked, "Sir, have you got alms?" The paccekabuddha said, "Am I not begging, merchant?" [300] The merchant gave orders to his man, "Go, take him to my house, set him on my seat and give him his bowl-full of the food prepared for me." The man took him to the house, set him down, and told the merchant's wife: she gave him his bowl full of food of excellent flavours. He taking the food and leaving the house went along the street. The merchant, returning from court, saw him and saluting asked him if he had got food. "I have, merchant." The merchant, looking at his bowl, could not reconcile his will to it, but thinking, "Had my slaves or work-people eaten this food of mine they would have done me hard service: alas, it is a loss for me!" and he could not make the after-thought perfect. Now giving is rich in fruit only to one who can make the three thoughts perfect:—
Did we joy to feel the wish to give,
    Give the gift, and give it cheerfully,
Ne'er regret the giving while we live,
    Children born of us would never die.
Joy before the bounty's given, giving cheerfully,
Pleasure at the thought thereafter, that is perfect charity.
So the stranger merchant gained much wealth, by reason of his giving alms to Tagarasikhi, but he could not enjoy his wealth because he could not make his after-thought pure. "Lord, why did he have no son?" The Master said, "O king, this was the cause of his having no son": and so at his request he told a tale of old.

Once upon a time when Brahmadatta was reigning in Benares, the Bodhisatta was born in a merchant's family worth eighty crores. When he grew up, at his parents' death he provided for his younger brother and carried on the house: he made an alms-chamber at the house-door and lived as a householder giving much in alms. One son was born to him; and when the son could walk on his feet, he saw the misery of desires and the blessing of renunciation, so handing over all his substance [301] together with his wife and child to his younger brother, he exhorted him

to continue almsgiving with diligence; then he became an ascetic, and gaining the Faculties and Attainments he dwelt in the Himālaya. The younger brother took that one son: but seeing him grow up he thought, "If my brother's son lives, the estate will be divided into two parts, I will kill my brother's son." So one day, sinking him in a river, he killed him. After he had bathed and come home, his brother's wife asked him, "Where is my boy?" "He was disporting himself in the river: I looked for him but could not see him." She wept and said nothing. The Bodhisatta, knowing of this matter, thought, "I will make this business public"; and so going through the air and lighting at Benares in fair raiment under and upper, he stood at the door: not seeing the alms-chamber, he thought, "That wicked man has destroyed the chamber." The younger brother, hearing of his coming, came and saluted the Bodhisatta and taking him up to the roof gave him good food to eat. And when the meal was over, seated for friendly talk he said, "My son does not appear: where is he?" "Dead, my lord." "In what way?" "At a bathing place: but I do not know the exact way." "Not know, thou wicked man! your deed was known to me: did you not kill him in that way? will you be able to keep that wealth when destroyed by kings and others? What difference is there, between you and the Mayha bird?" So the Bodhisatta expounding the law with the ease of a Buddha spoke these stanzas:—
There is a bird called Mayhaka, in mountain cave it lives:
On pipal trees with ripening fruit, "mine," "mine" the cry it gives.
[302] The other birds, while thus he plains, in flocks about him fly:
They eat the fruit, but still goes on the Mayha's plaintive cry.

And even so a single man enormous wealth may win,
And yet may not divide it fair between himself and kin.

Not once enjoyment does he reap, of raiment or of food,
Of perfumes or of garlands gay; nor does his kinsfolk good.

"Mine, mine," he whimpers as he guards his treasures greedily:
But kings, or robbers, or his heirs that wish to see him die
Pillage his wealth: yet still goes on the miser's plaintive cry.

A wise man, gaining riches great, is helpful to his kin:
’Tis thus he'll win repute on earth and heaven hereafter win.

[303] So the Great Being expounding to him the law made him renew the alms-giving, and going to the Himālaya pursued meditation without interruption and so went to the Brahmaloka heaven.

After the lesson, the Master said, "So, great king, the stranger merchant had neither son nor daughter for all that time because he killed his brother's son," and then he identified the Birth: "The younger brother was the stranger merchant, the elder was myself."


No. 391.

DHAJAVIHEHA-JĀTAKA.

"Noble of face," etc.—The Master told this while dwelling in Jetavana, concerning his going about for the whole world's good. The occasion will appear in the Mahākaha Birth. 1 Then the Master said, "Brethren, this is not the first time the Tathāgata has gone about for the world's good," and so told an old tale.

Once upon a time when Brahmadatta was king in Benares, the Bodhisatta was Sakka. At that time a wizard, using his magic, came at midnight and corrupted the chief queen of Benares. Her handmaids knew of this. She herself went to the king and said, "Your majesty, some man enters the royal chamber at midnight and corrupts me." "Could you make any mark on him?" "I can." So she got a bowl of real vermilion, and when the man came at night and was going away after enjoyment, she set the mark of her five fingers on his back and in the morning told the king. The king gave orders to his men to go and looking everywhere bring a man with a vermilion mark on his back.
Now the wizard after his misconduct at night stands by day in a cemetery on one foot worshipping the sun. The king's men saw him and surrounded him: but he, thinking that his action had become known to them, [304] used his magic and flew away in the air. The king asked his men when they came back from seeing this, "Did you see him?" "Yes, we saw him." "Who is he?" "A Brother, your majesty." For after his misconduct at night he lived by day in disguise of a Brother. The king thought, "These men go about by day in ascetic's garb and misconduct themselves at night;" so being angry with the Brethren, he adopted heretical views, and sent round a proclamation by drum that all the Brethren must depart from his kingdom and that his men would punish them wherever found. All the ascetics fled from the kingdom of Kāsi, which was three hundred leagues in extent, to other royal cities, and there was no one, righteous Buddhist or Brahmin, to preach to the men of all Kāsi; so that the men without preaching became savage, and being averse to charity and the commandments were born in a state of punishment for the most part as they died, and never got birth in heaven. Sakka, not

seeing any new gods, reflected on what the reason might be, and saw that it was the expulsion of the Brethren from the kingdom by the king of Benares owing to his adopting heretical views in anger about the wizard: then he thought, "Except myself there is no one who can destroy this king's heresy; I will be the helper of the king and his subjects," so he went to the paccekabuddhas in the Nandamūla cave and said, "Sirs, give me an old paccekabuddha, I wish to convert the kingdom of Kāsi." He got the senior among them. When he took his bowl and robes Sakka set him before and came himself after, making respectful salutation and venerating the paccekabuddha: himself becoming a beautiful young Brother he went thrice round the whole city from end to end, and then coming to the king's gate he stood in the air. They told the king, "Your majesty, there is a beautiful young Brother with a priest standing in the air [305] at the king's gate." The king rose from his seat and standing at the lattice said, "Young Brother, why do you, who are beautiful, stand venerating that ugly priest and holding his bowl and robes?" and so talking with him he spoke the first stanza:—
Noble of face, you make obeisance low;
Behind one mean and poor to sight you go:
Is he your better or your equal, say,
Declare to us your name and his, we pray.
The Sakka answered, "Great king, priests are in the place of teacher 1; therefore it is not right that I should utter his name: but I will tell you my own name," so he spoke the second stanza:—
Gods do not tell the lineage and the name
    Of saints devout and perfect in the way:
As for myself, my title I proclaim,
    Sakka, the lord whom thirty gods obey.
The king hearing this asked in the third stanza what was the blessing of venerating the Brother:—
He who beholds the saint of perfect merits,
    And walks behind him with obeisance low:
[306] I ask, O king of gods, what he inherits,
    What blessings will another life bestow?
Sakka replied in the fourth stanza:—
He who beholds the saint of perfect merits,
    Who walks behind him with obeisance low:
Great praise from men in this world he inherits,
    And death to him the path of heaven will show.
The king hearing Sakka's words gave up his own heretical views, and in delight spoke the fifth stanza:—

Oh, fortune's sun on me to-day doth rise,
    Our eyes have seen thy majesty divine:
Thy saint appears, O Sakka, to our eyes,
    And many a virtuous deed will now be mine.
Sakka, hearing him praising his master, spoke the sixth stanza:—
Surely ’tis good to venerate the wise,
    To knowledge who their learned thoughts incline:
Now that the saint and I have met thine eyes,
    O king, let many a virtuous deed be thine.
[301] Hearing this the king spoke the last stanza:—
From anger free, with grace in every thought,
    I'll lend an ear whenever strangers sue:
I take thy counsel good, I bring to nought
    My pride and serve thee, Lord, with homage due.
Having said so he came down from the terrace, saluted the paccekabuddha and stood on one side. The paccekabuddha sat cross-legged in the air and said, "Great king, that wizard was no Brother: henceforward recognise that the world is not vanity, that there are good Buddhists and Brahmins, and so give gifts, practise morality, keep the holy-days," preaching to the king. Sakka also by his power stood in the air, and preaching to the townsfolk, "Henceforward be zealous," he sent round proclamation by drum that the Buddhists and Brahmins who had fled should return. Then both went back to their own place. The king stood firm in the admonition and did good works.

After the lesson, the Master declared the Truths and identified the Birth:—"At that time the paccekabuddha reached Nirvāna, the king was Ānanda, Sakka was myself."

Footnotes

189:1 No. 469, vol. iv.
190:1 It is wrong to tell the name of a saintly teacher, cf. Mahāvagga i. 74. 1.


 





Om Tat Sat
                                                        
(Continued...) 



(My humble salutations to Sreeman Professor E B Cowell ji and  H T Francis and R A Neil   for the collection)




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