Jataka Tales — Birth Stories of the Buddha

No. 2.

VAṆṆUPATHA JĀTAKA.

The Sandy Road.

_“The Determined Ones,” etc._--This discourse was uttered by the

Blessed One while at Sāvatthi. About what? About a mendicant who had no

perseverance.

For whilst the Successor of the Prophets, we are told, was staying at

Sāvatthi, a young man of good family dwelling there went to Jetavana,

and heard a discourse from the Teacher. And with converted heart he saw

the evil result of lusts, and entered the Order. When he had passed

the five years of noviciate, he learnt two summaries of doctrine, and

applied himself to the practice of meditation. And receiving from the

Teacher a suitable subject as a starting-point for thought, he retired

to a forest. There he proceeded to pass the rainy season; but after

three months of constant endeavour, he was unable to obtain even the

least hint or presentiment of the attainment of insight.[245] Then it

occurred to him, “The Teacher said there were four kinds of men; I

must belong to the lowest class. In this birth there will be, I think,

neither Path nor Fruit for me. What is the good of my dwelling in the

forest? Returning to the Teacher, I will live in the sight of the

glorious person of the Buddha, and within hearing of the sweet sound of

the Law.” And he returned to Jetavana.

His friends and intimates said to him, “Brother, you received from the

Teacher a subject of meditation, and left us to devote yourself to

religious solitude; and now you have come back, and have given yourself

up again to the pleasures of social intercourse. Have you then really

attained the utmost aim of those who have given up the world? Have you

escaped transmigration?”[246]

“Brethren! I have gained neither the Path nor the Fruit thereof. I have

come to the conclusion that I am fated to be a useless creature; and so

have come back and given up the attempt.”

“You have done wrong, Brother! after taking vows according to the

religion of the Teacher whose firmness is so immovable, to have given

up the attempt. Come, let us show this matter to the Buddha.” And they

took him to the Teacher.

When the Teacher saw them, he said, “I see, O mendicants! that you have

brought this brother here against his will. What has he done?”

“Lord! this brother having taken the vows in so sanctifying a faith,

has abandoned the endeavour to accomplish the aim of a member of the

Order, and has come back to us.”

Then the Teacher said to him, “Is it true you have given up trying?”

“It is true, O Blessed One!” was the reply.

“How is it, brother, that you, who have now taken the vows according to

such a system, have proved yourself to be--not a man of few desires,

contented, separate from the world, persevering in effort--but so

irresolute! Why, formerly you were full of determination. By _your_

energy alone the men and bullocks of five hundred waggons obtained

water in the sandy desert, and were saved. How is it that you give up

trying, now?”

Then by those few words that brother was established in resolution!

But the others, hearing that story, besought of the Blessed One,

saying, “Lord! We know that this brother has given up trying now; and

yet you tell how formerly by his energy alone the men and bullocks

of five hundred waggons obtained water in the sandy desert, and were

saved. Tell us how this was.”

“Listen, then, O mendicants!” said the Blessed One: and having thus

excited their attention, he made manifest a thing concealed through

change of birth.

* * * * *

Once upon a time, when Brahma-datta was reigning in Benares, in the

country of Kāsi, the future Buddha was born in a merchant’s family; and

when he grew up, he went about trafficking with five hundred carts.

One day he arrived at a sandy desert twenty leagues across. The sand in

that desert was so fine, that when taken in the closed fist, it could

not be kept in the hand. After the sun had risen it became as hot as a

mass of charcoal, so that no man could walk on it. Those, therefore,

who had to travel over it took wood, and water, and oil, and rice

in their carts; and travelled during the night. And at daybreak they

formed an encampment, and spread an awning over it, and taking their

meals early, they passed the day sitting in the shade. At sunset they

supped; and when the ground had become cool, they yoked their oxen and

went on. The travelling was like a voyage over the sea: a so-called

land-pilot had to be chosen, and he brought the caravan safe to the

other side by his knowledge of the stars.

On this occasion the merchant of our story traversed the desert in that

way. And when he had passed over fifty-nine leagues he thought, “Now

in one more night we shall get out of the sand,” and after supper he

directed the wood and water to be thrown away, and the waggons to be

yoked; and so set out. The pilot had cushions arranged on the foremost

cart, and lay down looking at the stars, and directing them where to

drive. But worn out by want of rest during the long march, he fell

asleep, and did not perceive that the oxen had turned round and taken

the same road by which they had come.

The oxen went on the whole night through. Towards dawn the pilot woke

up, and, observing the stars, called out, “Stop the waggons, stop the

waggons!” The day broke just as they had stopped, and were drawing up

the carts in a line. Then the men cried out, “Why, this is the very

encampment we left yesterday! Our wood and water is all gone! We are

lost!” And unyoking the oxen, and spreading the canopy over their

heads, they lay down, in despondency, each one under his waggon.

But the Bodisat, saying to himself, “If I lose heart, all these will

perish,” walked about while the morning was yet cool. And on seeing a

tuft of Kusa-grass, he thought, “This must have grown by attracting

some water which there must be beneath it.”

And he made them bring a hoe and dig in that spot. And they dug sixty

cubits deep. And when they had got thus far, the spade of the diggers

struck on a rock: and as soon as it struck, they all gave up in despair.

But the Bodisat thought, “There _must_ be water under that rock,” and

descending into the well, he got upon the stone, and, stooping down,

applied his ear to it, and tested the sound of it. And he heard the

sound of water gurgling beneath. And he got out, and called his page.

“My lad, if you give up now, we shall all be lost. Don’t you lose

heart. Take this iron hammer, and go down into the pit, and give the

rock a good blow.”

The lad obeyed, and though they all stood by in despair, he went down

full of determination, and struck at the stone. And the rock split in

two, and fell below, and no longer blocked up the stream. And water

rose till its brim was the height of a palm-tree in the well. And they

all drank of the water, and bathed in it. Then they split up their

extra yokes and axles, and cooked rice, and ate it, and fed their oxen

with it. And when the sun set, they put up a flag by the well, and went

to the place appointed. There they sold their merchandise at double and

treble profit, and returned to their own home, and lived to a good old

age, and then passed away according to their deeds. And the Bodisat

gave gifts, and did other virtuous acts, and passed away according to

his deeds.

When the Buddha had told the story, he, as Buddha, uttered the verse--

2. The men of firm resolve dug on into the sand,

Till in the very road they found whereof to drink.

And so the wise, strong by continuing effort,

Finds--if he weary not--Rest for his heart!

When he had thus discoursed, he declared the Four Truths. And when he

had concluded, the despairing priest was established in the highest

Fruit, in Arahatship (which is Nirvāna).

After the Teacher had told the two stories, he formed the connexion,

and summed up the Jātaka, by saying, in conclusion, “The page who at

that time despaired not, but broke the stone, and gave water to the

multitude, was this brother without perseverance: the other men were

the attendants on the Buddha; and the caravan leader was I myself.”

END OF THE STORY OF THE SANDY ROAD.

No. 3.

SERI-VĀNIJA JĀTAKA.

The Merchant of Sēri.

_“If you fail here,” etc._--This discourse, too, the Blessed One

uttered, while staying at Sāvatthi, about a monk who was discouraged in

his efforts to obtain spiritual enlightenment.

For we are told that when he too was brought up by the brethren in the

same manner as before, the Teacher said, “Brother! you who have given

up trying, after taking the vows according to a system so well fitted

to lead you to the Paths and Fruit thereof, will sorrow long, like

the Seriva trader when he had lost the golden vessel worth a hundred

thousand.”

The monks asked the Blessed One to explain to them the matter. The

Blessed One made manifest that which had been hidden by change of birth.

* * * * *

Long ago, in the fifth dispensation before the present one, the Bodisat

was a dealer in tin and brass ware, named Seriva, in the country of

that name. This Seriva, together with another dealer in tin and brass

ware, who was an avaricious man, crossed the river Tēla-vāha, and

entered the town called Andhapura. And dividing the streets of the

city between them, the Bodisat went round selling his goods in the

street allotted to him, while the other took the street that fell to

him.

Now in that city there was a wealthy family reduced to abject poverty.

All the sons and brothers in the family had died, and all its property

had been lost. Only one girl and her grandmother were left; and those

two gained their living by serving others for hire. There was indeed in

the house the vessel of gold out of which the head of the house used to

eat in the days of its prosperity; but it was covered with dirt, and

had long lain neglected and unused among the pots and pans. And they

did not even know that it was of gold.

At that time the avaricious hawker, as he was going along, calling

out, “Buy my water-pots! Buy my water-pots!” came to the door of their

house. When the girl saw him, she said to her grandmother, “Mother! do

buy me an ornament.”

“But we are poor, dear. What shall we give in exchange for it?”

“This dish of ours is no use to us; you can give that away and get one.”

The old woman called the hawker, and after asking him to take a seat,

gave him the dish, and said, “Will you take this, Sir, and give

something to your little sister[247] for it?”

The hawker took the dish, and thought, “This must be gold!” And turning

it round, he scratched a line on its back with a needle, and found that

it was so. Then hoping to get the dish without giving them anything,

he said, “What is this worth? It is not even worth a halfpenny.” And

throwing it on the ground, he got up from his seat, and went away.

Now, it was allowed to either hawker to enter the street which the

other had left. And the Bodisat came into that street, and calling out,

“Buy my water-pots,” came up to the door of that very house. And the

girl spoke to her grandmother as before. But the grandmother said, “My

child, the dealer who came just now threw the dish on the floor, and

went away; what have I now got to give him in exchange?”

“That merchant, mother dear, was a surly man; but this one looks

pleasant, and has a kind voice: perchance he may take it.”

“Call him, then,” said she.

So she called him. And when he had come in and sat down, they gave him

the dish. He saw that it was gold, and said, “Mother! this dish is

worth a hundred thousand. All the goods in my possession are not equal

to it in value!”

“But, Sir, a hawker who came just now threw it on the ground, and went

away, saying it was not worth a halfpenny. It must have been changed

into gold by the power of your virtue, so we make you a present of it.

Give us some trifle for it, and take it.”

The Bodisat gave them all the cash he had in hand (five hundred

pieces), and all his stock-in-trade, worth five hundred more. He asked

of them only to let him keep eight pennies, and the bag and the yoke

that he used to carry his things with. And these he took and departed.

And going quickly to the river-side, he gave those eight pennies to a

boatman, and got into the boat.

But that covetous hawker came back to the house, and said: “Bring out

that dish, I’ll give you something for it!”

Then she scolded him, and said, “You said our gold dish, worth a

hundred thousand, was not worth a halfpenny. But a just dealer, who

seems to be your master,[248] gave us a thousand for it, and has taken

it away.”

When he heard this he called out, “Through this fellow I have lost

a golden pot worth--O, worth a hundred thousand! He has ruined me

altogether!” And bitter sorrow overcame him, and he was unable to

retain his presence of mind; and he lost all self-command. And

scattering the money he had, and all the goods, at the door of the

house, he seized as a club the yoke by which he had carried them, and

tore off his clothes, and pursued after the Bodisat.

When he reached the river-side, he saw the Bodisat going away, and he

cried out, “Hallo, Boatman! stop the boat!”

But the Bodisat said, “Don’t stop!” and so prevented that. And as

the other gazed and gazed at the departing Bodisat, he was torn with

violent grief; his heart grew hot, and blood flowed from his mouth

until his heart broke--like tank-mud in the heat of the sun!

Thus harbouring hatred against the Bodisat, he brought about on that

very spot his own destruction. This was the first time that Devadatta

harboured hatred against the Bodisat.

But the Bodisat gave gifts, and did other good acts, and passed away

according to his deeds.

It was when the Buddha had finished this discourse, that he, as Buddha,

uttered the following verse--

3. If in this present time of Grace,

You fail to reach the Happy State;[249]

Long will you suffer deep Remorse

Like this trading man of Seriva.

So the Teacher, discoursing in such a manner as to lead up to the

subject of Arahatship, dwelt on the Four Truths. And at the end of the

discourse the monk who had given up in despondency was established in

the highest Fruit--that is, in Nirvāna.

And when the Teacher had told the double story, he made the connexion,

and summed up the Jātaka by concluding, “The then foolish dealer was

Devadatta, but the wise dealer was I myself.”

END OF THE STORY OF THE MERCHANT OF SĒRI.

No. 4.

CULLAKA-SEṬṬHI JĀTAKA.

The Story of Chullaka the Treasurer.[250]

_“The wise, far-seeing man,” etc._--This discourse the Blessed One

uttered, while at Jīvaka’s Mango-grove near Rājagaha, concerning the

Elder whose name was Roadling the Younger.

Now here it ought to be explained how Roadling the Younger came to

be born. The daughter of a wealthy house in Rājagaha, they say, had

contracted an intimacy with a slave, and being afraid that people would

find out what she had done, she said to him, “We can’t stay here. If my

parents discover this wrongdoing, they will tear us in pieces. Let us

go to some far-off country, and dwell there.” So, taking the few things

they had, they went out privately together to go and dwell in some

place, it did not matter where, where they would not be known.

And settling in a certain place, they lived together there, and she

conceived. And when she was far gone with child, she consulted with

her husband, saying, “I am far gone with child; and it will be hard

for both of us if the confinement were to take place where I have no

friends and relations. Let us go home again!”

But he let the days slip by, saying all the while, “Let us go to-day;

let us go to-morrow.”

Then she thought, “This silly fellow dares not go home because his

offence has been so great. But parents are, after all, true friends.

Whether he goes or not, it will be better for me to go.”

So, as soon as he had gone out, she set her house in order, and telling

her nearest neighbours that she was going to her own home, she started

on her way. The man returned to the house; and when he could not find

her, and learned on inquiry from the neighbours that she had gone home,

he followed her quickly, and came up to her halfway on the road. There

the pains of labour had just seized her. And he accosted her, saying,

“Wife, what is this?”

“Husband, I have given birth to a son,” replied she.

“What shall we do now?” said he.

“The very thing we were going home for has happened on the road. What’s

the use of going there? Let us stop!”

So saying, they both agreed to stop. And as the child was born on the

road, they called him Roadling. Now not long after she conceived again,

and all took place as before; and as that child too was born on the

road, they called the firstborn Great Roadling, and the second Little

Roadling. And taking the two babies with them, they went back to the

place where they were living.

And whilst they were living there this child of the road heard other

children talking about uncles, and grandfathers, and grandmothers; and

he asked his mother, saying, “Mother, the other boys talk of their

uncles, and grandfathers, and grandmothers. Have we no relations?”

“Certainly, my dear! You have no relations here, but you have a

grandfather, a rich gentleman, at Rājagaha; and there you have plenty

of relations.”

“Then why don’t we go there, mother?” said he.

Then she told him the reason of their not going. But when the children

spoke to her again and again about it, she said to her husband, “These

children are continually troubling me. Can our parents kill us and eat

us when they see us? Come, let us make the boys acquainted with their

relatives on the grandfather’s side.”

“Well, I myself daren’t meet them face to face, but I will take you

there.”

“Very well, then; any way you like: the children ought to be made

acquainted with their grandfather’s family.”

So they two took the children, and in due course arrived at Rājagaha,

and put up at a chowltrie (a public resting-place) at the gate of the

town. And the mother, taking the two boys, let her parents know of her

arrival. When they heard the message, they sent her back word to the

following effect: “To be without sons and daughters is an unheard-of

thing among ordinary people;[251] but these two have sinned so deeply

against us, that they cannot stand in our sight. Let them take such

and such a sum, and go and dwell wherever they two may like. But the

children they may send here.” And their daughter took the money her

parents sent, and handing over her children to the messengers, let them

go.

And the children grew up in their grandfather’s house. Little Roadling

was much the younger of the two, but Great Roadling used to go with his

grandfather to hear the Buddha preach; and by constantly hearing the

Truth from the mouth of the Teacher himself, his mind turned towards

renunciation of the world. And he said to his grandfather, “If you

would allow it, I should enter the Order.”

“What are you saying, my child?” answered the old, man. “Of all persons

in the world I would rather have you enter the Order. Become a monk

by all means, if you feel yourself able to do so.” So, granting his

request, he took him to the Teacher.

The Teacher said, “What, Sir, have you then a son?”

“Yes, my Lord, this lad is my grandson, and he wants to take the vows

under you.”

The Teacher called a monk, and told him to ordain the lad: and the

monk, repeating to him the formula of meditation on the perishable

nature of the human body,[252] received him as a novice into the Order.

After he had learnt by heart much scripture, and had reached the full

age required, he was received into full membership; and applying

himself to earnest thought, he attained the state of an Arahat. And

whilst he was thus himself enjoying the delight which arises from wise

and holy thoughts, and wise and holy life, he considered whether he

could not procure the same bliss for Little Roadling.

So he went to his grandfather, and said: “If, noble Sir, you will grant

me your consent, I will receive Little Roadling into the Order!”

“Ordain him, reverend Sir,” was the reply. The Elder accordingly

initiated Little Roadling, and taught him to live in accordance with

the Ten Commandments. But though he had reached the noviciate, Little

Roadling was dull, and in four months he could not get by heart even

this one verse--

As a sweet-smelling Kokanada lily

Blooming all fragrant in the early dawn,

Behold the Sage, bright with exceeding glory

E’en as the burning sun in the vault of heaven!

For long ago, we are told, in the time of Kassapa the Buddha, he had

been a monk, who, having acquired learning himself, had laughed to

scorn a dull brother as he was learning a recitation. That brother was

so overwhelmed with confusion by his contempt, that he could neither

commit to memory, nor recite the passage. In consequence of this

conduct he now, though initiated, became dull; he forgot each line he

learnt as soon as he learnt the next; and whilst he was trying to learn

this one verse four months had passed away.

Then his elder brother said to him: “Roadling, you are not fit for this

discipline. In four months you have not been able to learn a single

stanza, how can you hope to reach the utmost aim of those who have

given up the world? Go away, out of the monastery!” And he expelled

him. But Little Roadling, out of love for the religion of the Buddhas,

did not care for a layman’s life.

Now at that time it was the elder Roadling’s duty to regulate the

distribution of food to the monks. And the nobleman Jīvaka brought many

sweet-scented flowers, and going to his Mango-grove presented them to

the Teacher, and listened to the discourse. Then, rising from his seat,

he saluted the Buddha, and going up to Great Roadling, asked him, “How

many brethren are there with the Teacher?”

“About five hundred,” was the reply.

“Will the Buddha and the five hundred brethren come and take their

morning meal to-morrow at our house?”

“One called Little Roadling, O disciple, is dull, and makes no progress

in the faith; but I accept the invitation for all excepting him.”

Little Roadling overheard this, and thought, “Though accepting for so

many monks, the Elder accepts in such a manner as to leave me out.

Surely my brother’s love for me has been broken. What’s the good of

this discipline to me now? I must become a layman, and give alms, and

do such good deeds as laymen can.” And early the next day he went away,

saying he would re-enter the world.

Now the Teacher, very early in the morning, when he surveyed the world,

became aware of this matter.[253] And going out before him, he remained

walking up and down by the gateway on the road along which Little

Roadling would have to pass. And Little Roadling, as he left the house,

saw the Teacher, and going up to him, paid him reverence. Then the

Teacher said to him, “How now, Little Roadling! whither are you going

at this time in the morning?”

“Lord! my brother has expelled me, so I am going away to wander again

in the ways of the world!”

“Little Roadling! It was under me that your profession of religion took

place. When your brother expelled you, why did you not come to me? What

will a layman’s life advantage you? You may stay with me!”

And he took Little Roadling, and seated him in front of his own

apartment, and gave him a piece of very white cloth, created for the

purpose, and said, “Now, Little Roadling, stay here, sitting with your

face to the East, and rub this cloth up and down, repeating to yourself

the words, “The removal of impurity! The removal of impurity!” And so

saying he went, when time was called, to Jīvaka’s house, and sat down

on the seat prepared for him.[254]

But Little Roadling did as he was desired: and as he did so, the cloth

became soiled, and he thought, “This piece of cloth was just now

exceeding white; and now, through me, it has lost its former condition,

and is become soiled. Changeable indeed are all component things!” And

he felt the reality of decay and death, and the eyes of his mind were

opened!

Then the Teacher, knowing that the eyes of his mind were opened, sent

forth a glorious vision of himself, which appeared as if sitting before

him in visible form, and saying, “Little Roadling! be not troubled at

the thought that this cloth has become so soiled and stained. Within

thee, too, are the stains of lust and care and sin; but these thou must

remove!” And the vision uttered these stanzas:

It is not dust, but lust, that really is the stain:

This--’stain’--is the right word for lust.

’Tis the monks who have put away this stain,

Who live up to the Word of the Stainless One!

It is not dust, but anger, that really is the stain:

This--’stain’--is the right word for anger.

’Tis the monks who have put away this stain,

Who live up to the Word of the Stainless One!

It is not dust, but delusion, that really is the stain:

This--’stain’--is the right word for delusion.

’Tis the monks who have put away this stain,

Who live up to the Word of the Stainless One!

And as the stanzas were finished, Little Roadling attained to

Arahatship, and with it to the intellectual gifts of an Arahat; and by

them he understood all the Scriptures.

Long ago, we are told, he had been a king, who, as he was once going

round the city, and the sweat trickled down from his forehead, wiped

the top of his forehead with his pure white robe. When the robe became

dirty, he thought, “By this body the pure white robe has lost its

former condition, and has become soiled. Changeable indeed are all

component things!” And so he realized the doctrine of impermanency.

It was on this account that the incident of the transfer of impurity

brought about his conversion.

But to return to our story. Jīvaka, the nobleman, brought to the Buddha

the so-called water of presentation. The Teacher covered the vessel

with his hand, and said, “Are there no monks in the monastery, Jīvaka?”

“Nay, my Lord, there are no monks there,” said Great Roadling.

“But there are, Jīvaka,” said the Master.

Jīvaka then sent a man, saying, “Do you go, then, and find out whether

there are any monks or not at the monastery.”

At that moment Little Roadling thought, “My brother says there are no

monks here; I will show him there are.” And he filled the Mango-grove

with priests--a thousand monks, each unlike the other--some making

robes, some repairing them, and some repeating the Scriptures.

The man, seeing all these monks at the monastery, went back, and told

Jīvaka, “Sir, the whole Mango-grove is alive with monks.”

It was with reference to this that it is said of him, that

“Roadling, multiplying himself a thousand fold,

Sate in the pleasant Mango-grove till he was bidden to the feast.”

Then the Teacher told the messenger to go again, and say, “The Teacher

sends for him who is called Little Roadling.”

So he went and said so. But from a thousand monks the answer came, “I

am Little Roadling! I am Little Roadling!”

The man returned, and said, “Why, Sir, they all say they are called

Little Roadling!”

“Then go and take by the hand the first who says ‘I am Little

Roadling,’ and the rest will disappear.”

And he did so. And the others disappeared, and the Elder returned with

the messenger.[255]

And the Teacher, when the meal was over, addressed Jīvaka, and

said, “Jīvaka, take Little Roadling’s bowl; he will pronounce the

benediction.” And he did so. And the Elder, as fearlessly as a young

lion utters his challenge, compressed into a short benedictive

discourse the spirit of all the Scriptures.

Then the Teacher rose from his seat and returned to the _Wihāra_

(monastery), accompanied by the body of mendicants. And when the monks

had completed their daily duties, the Blessed One arose, and standing

at the door of his apartment, discoursed to them, propounding a subject

of meditation. He then dismissed the assembly, entered his fragrant

chamber, and lay down to rest.

In the evening the monks collected from different places in the hall

of instruction, and began uttering the Teacher’s praises,--thus

surrounding themselves as it were with a curtain of sweet kamala

flowers! “Brethren, his elder brother knew not the capacity of Little

Roadling, and expelled him as a dullard because in four months he

could not learn that one stanza; but the Buddha, by his unrivalled

mastery over the Truth, gave him Arahatship, with the intellectual

powers thereof, in the space of a single meal, and by those powers

he understood all the Scriptures! Ah! how great is the power of the

Buddhas!”

And the Blessed One, knowing that this conversation had arisen in the

hall, determined to go there; and rising from his couch, he put on

his orange-coloured under garment, girded himself with his belt as it

were with lightning, gathered round him his wide flowing robe red as

kamala flowers, issued from his fragrant chamber, and proceeded to

the hall with that surpassing grace of motion peculiar to the Buddhas,

like the majestic tread of a mighty elephant in the time of his pride.

And ascending the magnificent throne made ready for the Buddha in the

midst of the splendid hall, he seated himself in the midst of the

throne emitting those six-coloured rays peculiar to the Buddhas, like

the young sun when it rises over the mountains on the horizon, and

illumines the ocean depths!

As soon as the Buddha came in, the assembly of the mendicants stopped

their talking and were silent. The Teacher looked mildly and kindly

round him, and thought, “This assembly is most seemly; not a hand

nor foot stirs, no sound of coughing or sneezing can be heard! If I

were to sit here my life long without speaking, not one of all these

men--awed by the majesty and blinded by the glory of a Buddha--would

venture to speak first. It behoves me to begin the conversation, and

I myself will be the first to speak!” And with sweet angelic voice he

addressed the brethren: “What is the subject for which you have seated

yourselves together here, and what is the talk among you that has been

interrupted?”

“Lord! we are not sitting in this place to talk of any worldly thing:

it is thy praises we are telling!” And they told him the subject of

their talk. When he heard it the Teacher said, “Mendicants! Little

Roadling has now through me become great in religion; now formerly

through me he became great in riches.”

The monks asked the Buddha to explain how this was. Then the Blessed

One made manifest that which had been hidden by change of birth.

Long ago,[256] when Brahma-datta was reigning in Benares, in the land

of Kāsi, the Bodisat was born in a treasurer’s family; and when he grew

up he received the post of treasurer, and was called Chullaka.[257] And

he was wise and skilful, and understood all omens. One day as he was

going to attend upon the king he saw a dead mouse lying on the road;

and considering the state of the stars at the time, he said, “A young

fellow with eyes in his head might, by picking this thing up, start a

trade and support a wife.”

Now a certain young man of good birth, then fallen into poverty, heard

what the official said, and thinking, “This is a man who wouldn’t say

such a thing without good reason,” took the mouse, and gave it away in

a certain shop for the use of the cat, and got a farthing for it.

With the farthing be bought molasses, and took water in a pot. And

seeing garland-makers returning from the forest, he gave them bits of

molasses, with water by the ladle-full.[258] They gave him each a bunch

of flowers; and the next day, with the price of the flowers, he bought

more molasses; and taking a potful of water, went to the flower garden.

That day the garland-makers gave him, as they went away, flowering

shrubs from which half the blossoms had been picked. In this way in a

little time he gained eight pennies.

Some time after, on a rainy windy day, a quantity of dry sticks and

branches and leaves were blown down by the wind in the king’s garden,

and the gardener saw no way of getting rid of them. The young man

went and said to the gardener, “If you will give me these sticks and

leaves, I will get them out of the way.” The gardener agreed to this,

and told him to take them.

Chullaka’s pupil[259] went to the children’s playground, and by giving

them molasses had all the leaves and sticks collected in a twinkling,

and placed in a heap at the garden gate. Just then the king’s potter

was looking out for firewood to burn pots for the royal household, and

seeing this heap he bought it from him. That day Chullaka’s pupil got

by selling his firewood sixteen pennies and five vessels--water-pots,

and such-like.

Having thus obtained possession of twenty-four pennies, he thought,

“This will be a good scheme for me,” and went to a place not far from

the city gate, and placing there a pot of water, supplied five hundred

grass-cutters with drink.

“Friend! you have been of great service to us,” said they. “What shall

we do for you?”

“You shall do me a good turn when need arises,” said he. And then,

going about this way and that, he struck up a friendship with a trader

by land and a trader by sea.

And the trader by land told him, “To-morrow a horse-dealer is coming to

the town with five hundred horses.”

On hearing this, he said to the grass-cutters, “Give me to-day, each

of you, a bundle of grass, and don’t sell your own grass till I have

disposed of mine.”

“All right!” cried they in assent, and brought five hundred bundles,

and placed them in his house. The horse-dealer, not being able to get

grass for his horses through all the city, bought the young man’s

grass for a thousand pence.

A few days afterwards his friend the trader by sea told him that a

large vessel had come to the port. He thinking, “This will be a good

plan,” got for eight pennies a carriage that was for hire, with all

its proper attendants; and driving to the port with a great show of

respectability, gave his seal-ring as a deposit for the ship’s cargo.

Then he had a tent pitched not far off, and taking his seat gave orders

to his men that when merchants came from outside he should be informed

of it with triple ceremony.[260]

On hearing that a ship had arrived, about a hundred merchants came from

Benares to buy the goods.

They were told, “You can’t have the goods: a great merchant of such and

such a place has already paid deposit for them.”

On hearing this, they went to him; and his footmen announced their

arrival, as had been agreed upon--three deep. Each of the merchants

then gave him a thousand to become shareholders in the ship, and then

another thousand for him to relinquish _his_ remaining share: and thus

they made themselves owners of the cargo.

So Chullaka’s pupil returned to Benares, taking with him two hundred

thousand.[261] And from a feeling of gratitude, he took a hundred

thousand and went to Chullaka the treasurer. Then the treasurer asked

him, “What have you been doing, my good man, to get all this wealth?”

“It was by adhering to what you said that I have acquired it within

four months,” said he: and told him the whole story, beginning with the

dead mouse.

And when Chullaka the high treasurer heard his tale, he thought, “It

will never do to let such a lad as this get into any one else’s hands.”

So he gave him his grown-up daughter in marriage, and made him heir to

all the family estates. And when the treasurer died, he received the

post of city treasurer. But the Bodisat passed away according to his

deeds.

* * * * *

It was when the Buddha had finished his discourse that he, as Buddha,

uttered the following verse:

As one might nurse a tiny flame,

The able and far-seeing man,

E’en with the smallest capital,

Can raise himself to wealth!

It was thus the Blessed One made plain what he had said, “Mendicants!

Little Roadling has now through me become great in religion; but

formerly through me he became great in riches.”

When he had thus given this lesson, and told the double story, he made

the connexion, and summed up the Jātaka by concluding, “He who was then

Chullaka’s pupil was Little Roadling, but Chullaka the high treasurer

was I myself.”

END OF THE STORY OF CHULLAKA THE TREASURER.

No. 5.

TAṆḌULA-NĀḶI JĀTAKA.

The Measure of Rice.[262]

_“What is the value of a measure of rice,” etc._--This the Teacher told

while sojourning at Jetavana, about a monk called Udāyin the Simpleton.

At that time the Elder named Dabba, a Mallian by birth, held the office

of steward in the Order.[263] When he issued the food-tickets in the

morning, Udāyin sometimes received a better kind of rice, and sometimes

an inferior kind. One day when he received the inferior kind, he threw

the distribution-hall into confusion, crying out, “Why should Dabba

know better than any other of us how to give out the tickets?”

When he thus threw the office into disorder, they gave him the basket

of tickets, saying, “Well, then, do you give out the tickets to-day!”

From that day he began to distribute tickets to the Order; but when

giving them out he did not know which meant the better rice and which

the worse, nor in which storehouse the better was kept and in which

the worse. When fixing the turns, too, he did not distinguish to what

storehouse each monk’s turn had come; but when the monks had taken

their places, he would make a scratch on the wall or on the floor, to

show that the turn for such and such a kind of rice had come thus far,

and for such and such a kind of rice thus far. But the next day there

were either more or fewer monks in hall. When they were fewer, the

mark was too low down; when they were more, the mark was too high up;

but ignoring the right turns, he gave out the tickets according to the

signs he had made.

So the monks said to him, “Brother Udāyin! the mark is too high, or too

low.” And again, “The good rice is in such a storehouse, the inferior

rice in such a storehouse.”[264]

But he repelled them, saying, “If it be so, why is the mark different?

Why should I trust you? I will trust the mark rather!”

Then the boys and novices cast him out from the hall of distribution,

exclaiming, “When you give tickets, Brother Udāyin, the brethren are

deprived of their due. You are incapable of the office. Leave the

place!”

Thereupon a great tumult arose in the hall of distribution. The Teacher

heard it, and asked of Ānanda the Elder, “There is a great tumult,

Ānanda, in the hall. What is the noise about?”

The Elder told the Successor of the Prophets how it was.

Then he said, “Not now only, Ānanda, does Udāyin by his stupidity bring

loss upon others, formerly also he did the same.”

The Elder asked the Blessed One to explain that matter. Then the

Blessed One made manifest an occurrence hidden by change of birth.

* * * * *

Long ago, Brahma-datta was king in Benares, in the land of Kāsi. At

that time our Bodisat was his Valuer. He valued both horses, elephants,

or things of that kind; and jewelry, gold, or things of that kind; and

having done so, he used to have the proper price for the goods given to

the owners thereof.

Now the king was covetous. And in his avarice he thought, “If this

valuer estimates in this way, it will not be long before all the wealth

in my house will come to an end. I will appoint another valuer.”

And opening his window, and looking out into the palace yard, he saw a

stupid miserly peasant crossing the yard. Him he determined to make his

valuer; and sending for him, asked if he would undertake the office.

The man said he could; and the king, with the object of keeping his

treasure safer, established that fool in the post of valuer.

Thenceforward the dullard used to value the horses and elephants,

paying no regard to their real value, but deciding just as he chose:

and since he had been appointed to the office, as he decided, so the

price was.

Now at that time a horse-dealer brought five hundred horses from the

northern prairies. The king sent for that fellow, and had the horses

valued. And he valued the five hundred horses at a mere measure of

rice, and straightway ordered the horse-dealer to be given the

measure of rice, and the horses to be lodged in the stable. Then the

horse-dealer went to the former valuer, and told him what had happened,

and asked him what he should do.

“Give a bribe to that fellow,” said he, “and ask him thus: ‘We know now

that so many horses of ours are worth a measure of rice, but we want

to know from you what a measure of rice is worth. Can you value it for

us, standing in your place by the king?’ If he says he can, go with him

into the royal presence, and I will be there too.”

The horse-dealer accepted the Bodisat’s advice, went to the valuer, and

bribed him, and gave him the hint suggested. And he took the bribe, and

said, “All right! I can value your measure of rice for you.”

“Well, then, let us go to the audience-hall,” said he; and taking him

with him, went into the king’s presence. And the Bodisat and many other

ministers went there also.

The horse-dealer bowed down before the king, and said, “I acknowledge,

O king, that a measure of rice is the value of the five hundred horses;

but will the king be pleased to ask the valuer what the value of the

measure of rice may be?”

The king, not knowing what had happened, asked, “How now, valuer,

_what_ are five hundred horses worth?”

“A measure of rice, O king!” said he.

“Very good, then! If five hundred horses are worth only a measure of

rice, what is that measure of rice worth?”

“The measure of rice is worth all Benares, both within and without the

walls,” replied that foolish fellow.

For the story goes that he first valued the horses at a measure of

rice just to please the king; and then, when he had taken the dealer’s

bribe, valued that measure of rice at the whole of Benares. Now at that

time the circumference of the rampart of Benares was twelve leagues,

and the land in its suburbs was three hundred leagues in extent. Yet

the foolish fellow estimated that so-great city of Benares, together

with all its suburbs, at a measure of rice!

Hearing this the ministers clapped their hands, laughing, and saying,

“We used to think the broad earth, and the king’s realm, were alike

beyond price; but this great and famous royal city is worth, by his

account, just a measure of rice! O the depth of the wisdom of the

valuer! How can he have stayed so long in office? Truly he is just

suited to our king!” Thus they laughed him to scorn.

Then the Bodisat uttered this stanza:

What is a measure of rice worth?

All Benares and its environs!

And what are five hundred horses worth?

That same measure of rice![265]

Then the king was ashamed, and drove out that fool, and appointed the

Bodisat to the office of Valuer. And in course of time the Bodisat

passed away according to his deeds.

When the Teacher had finished preaching this discourse, and had told

the double story, he made the connexion, and summed up the Jātaka by

concluding, “He who was then the foolish peasant valuer was Udāyin the

Simpleton, but the wise valuer was I myself.”

END OF THE STORY OF THE MEASURE OF RICE.

No. 6.

DEVA-DHAMMA JĀTAKA.

On True Divinity.[266]

_“Those who fear to sin,” etc._--This the Blessed One told while at

Jetavana, concerning a monk of much property.

For a landed proprietor who dwelt at Sāvatthi became a monk, we

are told, after the death of his wife. And when he was going to be

ordained, he had a hermitage and a kitchen and a storehouse erected

for his own use, and the store filled with ghee and rice, and so was

received into the Order. And even after he was ordained he used to call

his slaves and have what he liked cooked, and ate it. And he was well

furnished with all things allowed to the fraternity; he had one upper

garment to wear at night and one to wear by day, and his rooms were

detached from the rest of the monastery.

One day, when he had taken out his robes and coverlets, and spread them

in the cell to dry, a number of brethren from the country, who were

seeking for a lodging, came to his cell, and seeing the robes and other

things, asked him, “Whose are these?”

“Mine, brother,” said he.

“But, brother, this robe, and this robe, and this under garment, and

this under garment, and this coverlet--are they all yours?”

“Yes; mine indeed,” said he.

“Brother, the Buddha has allowed only three sets of robes; yet, though

you have entered the Order of the self-denying Buddha, you have

furnished yourself thus grandly.” And saying, “Come, let us bring him

before the Sage,” they took him, and went to the Teacher.

When the Teacher saw them, he said, “How is it, mendicants, that you

bring this brother here against his will?”

“Lord! this mendicant has much property and a large wardrobe.”

“Is this true then, brother, that you have so many things?”

“It is true, O Blessed One!”

“How is it, brother, that you have become thus luxurious? Have not

I inculcated being content with little, simplicity, seclusion, and

self-control?”

On hearing what the Teacher said, he called out angrily, “Then I will

go about in this way!” and throwing off his robe, he stood in the midst

of the people there with only a cloth round his loins!

Then the Teacher, giving him support in temptation, said, “But,

brother, you had formerly a sense of shame, and lived for twelve years

a conscientious life when you were a water-sprite. How then, now,

having entered the so honourable Order of the Buddhas, can you stand

there throwing off your robes in the presence of all the brethren, and

lost to all sense of shame?”

And when he heard the Teacher’s saying, he recovered his sense of

propriety, and robed himself again, and bowing to the Teacher stood

respectfully aside.

But the monks asked the Teacher to explain how that was. Then the

Teacher made manifest the matter which had been hidden by change of

birth.

* * * * *

Long ago Brahma-datta was king in Benares, in the country of Kāsi. And

the Bodisat of that time assumed re-existence in the womb of his chief

queen; and on the day on which they chose a name for him, they gave him

the name of Prince Mahiŋsāsa. And when he could run to and fro, and

get about by himself, another son was born, whom they called the Moon

Prince.

When he could run to and fro, and get about by himself, the mother of

the Bodisat died. The king appointed another lady to the dignity of

chief queen. She became very near and dear to the king, and in due

course she brought forth a son, and they called his name the Sun Prince.

When the king saw his son, he said in his joy, “My love! I promise to

give you, for the boy, whatever you ask!”

But the queen kept the promise in reserve, to be used at some time when

she should want it. And when her son was grown up, she said to the

king, “Your majesty, when my son was born, granted me a boon. Now give

me the kingdom for my son!”

The king said, “My two sons are glorious as flames of fire! I can’t

give the kingdom to your child alone!” And he refused her.

But when she besought him again and again, he thought to himself,

“This woman will surely be plotting some evil against the lads!” And

he sent for them, and said, “My boys! when the Sun Prince was born, I

granted a boon. And now his mother demands the kingdom for him! I have

no intention of giving it to him. But the very name of womankind is

cruelty! She will be plotting some evil against you. Do you get away

into the forest; and when I am dead, come back and reign in the city

that is yours by right!” So, weeping and lamenting, he kissed them on

their foreheads, and sent them forth.

As they were going down out of the palace, after taking leave of their

father, the Sun Prince himself, who was playing there in the courtyard,

caught sight of them. And when he learnt how the matter stood, he

thought to himself, “I, too, will go away with my brothers!” And he

departed with them accordingly.

They went on till they entered the mountain region of Himālaya. There

the Bodisat, leaving the path, sat down at the foot of a tree, and said

to the Sun Prince:

“Sun Prince, dear! do you go to yonder pond; and after bathing and

drinking yourself, bring us, too, some water in the leaves of the lotus

plants.”

Now that pond had been delivered over to a water-sprite by Vessavana

(the King of the Fairies), who had said to him:

“Thou art hereby granted as thy prey all those who go down into the

water, save only those who know what is true divinity. But over such as

go not down thou hast no power.”

So from that time forth, the water-sprite used to ask all those who

went down into the water, what were the characteristic signs of divine

beings, and if they did not know, he used to eat them up alive.

Now Sun Prince went to the pond, and stepped down into it without any

hesitation. Then the demon seized him, and demanded of him:

“Do you know what is of divine nature?”

“Oh, yes! They call the Sun, and the Moon, Gods,” was the reply.

“_You_ don’t know what is of divine nature,” said he, and carrying him

off down into the water, he put him fast in his cave.

But the Bodisat, when he found that he was so long in coming, sent the

Moon Prince. Him, too, the demon seized and asked him as before:

“Do you know what is of divine nature?”

“Yes, I do. The far-spreading sky is called divine.”[267]

“You then don’t know what is divine,” said he; and he took him, too,

and put him in the same place.

When he too delayed, the Bodisat thought to himself, “Some accident

must have happened.” He himself, therefore, went to the place, and saw

the marks of the footsteps where both the boys had gone down into the

water. Then he knew that the pond must be haunted by a water-sprite;

and he stood fast, with his sword girded on, and his bow in his hand.

But when the demon saw that the Bodisat was not going down into the

water, he took to himself the form of a woodman, and said to the

Bodisat:

“Hallo, my friend! you seem tired with your journey. Why don’t you

get down into the lake there; and have a bath, and drink, and eat the

edible stalks of the lotus plants, and pick the flowers, and so go on

your way at your ease?”

And as soon as the Bodisat saw him, he knew that he was the demon, and

he said,

“It is you who have seized my brothers!”

“Yes, it is I,” said he.

“What for, then?”

“I have been granted all those who go down into this pond.”

“What? All!”

“Well; all save those who know what beings are divine. The rest are my

prey.”

“But have _you_ then any need of divine beings?”

“Yes, certainly.”

“If it be so, I will tell you who are divine.”

“Speak on then; and I shall get to know who have the attributes which

are divine.”

Then the Bodisat said, “I would teach you regarding this matter; but

I am all unclean with my journey.” And the water-sprite bathed the

Bodisat, and provided him with food, and brought him water, and decked

him with flowers, and anointed him with perfumes, and spread out for

him a couch in a beautiful arbour.

And the Bodisat seated himself there, and made the water-sprite sit at

his feet, and said, “Give ear then attentively, and listen what divine

nature is.” And he uttered the verse--

The pure in heart who fear to sin,

The good, kindly in word and deed--

These are the beings in the world,

Whose nature should be called divine.

And when the water-sprite heard that, his heart was touched, and he

said to the Bodisat--

“O, Wise Teacher, in you I place my trust. I will give you up one of

your brothers. Which shall I bring?”

“Bring me the younger of the two.”

“But, Teacher; you who know so well all about the divine nature, do you

not act in accordance with it?”

“What do you mean?”

“That neglecting the elder, and telling me to bring the younger of the

two, you pay not the honour that is due to seniority.”

“I both know, O Demon, what divinity is, and I walk according to it. It

is on that boy’s account that we came to this forest: for it was for

him that his mother begged the kingdom from our father, and our father

being unwilling to grant that, sent us away to live in the forest, that

we might be safe from danger. The lad himself came all the way along

with us. Were I to say, ‘An ogre has eaten him in the wilderness,’ no

one would believe it. Therefore it is that I, to avoid all blame, have

told you to bring _him_.”

“Verily thou hast spoken well, O Teacher. Thou not only knowest what

divinity is, but hast acted as a divinity would.”

And when he had thus magnified the Bodisat with believing heart, he

brought forth both the brothers and gave them back to him.

Then said the Bodisat to him, “Friend, it is by reason of evil deeds

committed by you in some former birth, that you have been born as an

ogre, living on the flesh of other beings. And now you still go on

sinning. This thine iniquity will prevent thine ever escaping from

rebirth in evil states. From henceforth, therefore, put away evil, and

do good!”

With these words he succeeded in converting him. And the ogre being

converted, the Bodisat continued to live there under his protection.

And one day he saw by the conjunction of the stars that his father

was dead. So he took the water-sprite with him and returned to

Benares, and took upon himself the kingdom. And he made Moon Prince

his heir-apparent, and Sun Prince his commander-in-chief. And for the

water-sprite he made a dwelling-place in a pleasant spot, and took care

that he should be constantly provided with the best of garlands and

flowers and food. And he himself ruled his kingdom in righteousness,

until he passed away according to his deeds.

* * * * *

The Teacher having finished this discourse spoke on the Four Truths.

And when he had done, that monk entered the First Stage of the Path

leading to Nirvāna. And the Buddha having told the double story,

made the connexion and summed up the Jātaka by concluding, “The then

water-sprite was the luxurious monk; the Sun Prince was Ānanda; the

Moon Prince was Sāriputta; but the elder brother, the Prince Mahiŋsāsa,

was I myself.”[268]

END OF THE STORY ABOUT TRUE DIVINITY.

No. 9.[269]

MAKHĀ-DEVA JĀTAKA.[270]

The Story of Makhā Deva.

_“These grey hairs,” etc._--This the Teacher told when at Jetavana, in

reference to the Great Renunciation. The latter has been related above

in the Nidāna Kathā.[271]

Now at that time the priests as they sat were magnifying the

Renunciation of the One Mighty by Wisdom. Then the Teacher entered

the assembly, and sat down in his place, and addressed the brethren,

saying, “What is the subject on which you are talking as you sit here?”

“On no other subject, Lord! but on your Renunciation,” said they.

“Mendicants, not then only did the Successor of the Prophets renounce

the world; formerly also he did the same.”

The monks asked him to explain how that was. Then the Blessed One made

manifest an occurrence hidden by change of birth.

* * * * *

Long ago, in Mithilā, in the land of Videha, there was a king named

Makhā Deva, a righteous man, and ruling in righteousness.[272]

Eighty-four thousand years he was a prince, as many he shared in the

government, and as many he was sovereign. As such he had lived a

long, long time, when one day he said to his barber, “My good barber,

whenever you find grey hairs on my head, let me know.”

And after a long, long time had passed away, the barber one day found

among the jet-black locks one grey hair; and he told the king of it,

saying, “There is a grey hair to be seen on your head, O king!”

“Pull it out, then, friend, and put it in my hand!” said he.

So he tore it out with golden pincers, and placed it in the hand of

the king. There were then eighty-four thousand years of the lifetime

allotted to the king still to elapse. But, nevertheless, as he looked

upon the grey hair he was deeply agitated, as if the King of Death

had come nigh unto him, or as if he found himself inside a house on

fire.[273] And he thought, “O foolish Makhā Deva! though grey hairs

have come upon you, you yet have not been able to get rid of the

frailties and passions which deprave men’s hearts!”[274]

As he thus meditated and meditated on the appearance of the grey hair,

his heart burned within him, drops of perspiration rolled down from his

body, and his very robes oppressed him and became unbearable. And he

thought, “This very day I must leave the world and devote myself to a

religious life!”

Then he gave to the barber a grant of a village whose revenue amounted

to a hundred thousand. And he sent for his eldest son, and said to him,

“My son! grey hairs have appeared on my head. I am become an old man. I

have done with all human hopes; now I will seek heavenly things. It is

time for me to abandon the world. Do you assume the sovereignty. I will

embrace the religious life, and, dwelling in the garden called Makhā

Deva’s Mango-park, I will train myself in the characteristics of those

who are subdued in heart.”

His ministers, when he formed this intention, came to him and said,

“What is the reason, O king! of your giving up the world?”

Then the king, taking the grey hair in his hand, uttered this verse--

These grey hairs that have come upon my head

Are angel messengers appearing to me,

Laying stern hands upon the evening of my life!

’Tis time I should devote myself to holy thought!

Having thus spoken, he laid down his sovranty that very day, and became

a hermit; and living in the Mango-grove of Makhā Deva, of which he

had spoken, he spent eighty-four thousand years in practising perfect

goodwill towards all beings, and in constant devotion to meditation.

And after he died he was born again in the Brahma heaven; and when his

allotted time there was exhausted, he became in Mithilā a king called

Nimi, and reunited his scattered family.[275] And after that he became

a hermit in that same Mango-grove, and practised perfect goodwill

towards all beings, and again returned to the Brahma heaven.

* * * * *

The Teacher, having thus discoursed on the subject that not then only,

but formerly too, the Successor of the Buddhas had abandoned the world,

proclaimed the Four Truths. Some entered the First Stage of the Path to

Nirvāna, some the Second, some the Third. And when the Blessed One had

thus told the double story, he established the connexion, and summed up

the Jātaka as follows: “The barber of that time was Ānanda, the prince

was Rāhula, but Makhā Deva the king was I myself.”

END OF THE STORY OF MAKHĀ DEVA.

No. 10.

SUKHAVIHĀRI JĀTAKA.

The Happy Life

_“He whom others guard not,” etc._--This the Teacher told while at

the Anūpiya Mango-grove, near the town of that name, about the Elder

named Bhaddiya the Happy-minded. Bhaddiya the Happy-minded took the

vows when the six young noblemen did so together with Upāli.[276] Of

these, Bhaddiya and Kimbila and Bhagu and Upāli became Arahats, Ānanda

entered the First Stage of the Road to Nirvāna, Anuruddha attained

to the Knowledge of the Past and the Present and the Future, and

Devadatta acquired the power of Deep Meditation. The story of the six

young noblemen, up to the events at Anūpiya, will be related in the

Khaṇḍahāla Jātaka.

Now one day the venerable Bhaddiya called to mind how full of anxiety

he had been when, as a king, caring for himself like a guardian angel,

and surrounding himself with every protection, he had lolled in his

upper chamber on his royal couch: and now how free from anxiety he was,

when, as an Arahat, he was wandering, here and there, in forests and

waste places. And realizing this change, he uttered an exclamation of

joy, “Oh, Happiness! Happiness!”

This the monks told the Blessed One, saying, “Bhaddiya is prophesying

about Arahatship!”[277]

The Blessed One replied, “Mendicants! not now only is Bhaddiya full of

joy; he was so also in a former birth.”

The monks requested the Blessed One to explain how that was. Then the

Blessed One made manifest an event hidden through change of birth.

* * * * *

Long ago, when Brahma-datta was reigning in Benares, the Bodisat

became a wealthy Brāhman of the north-west country. And perceiving the

evils of worldly lusts, and the advantages of the religious life, he

abandoned the world, and went to the Himālaya region, and adopted the

life of a hermit, and practised the Eight Attainments. And the number

of his disciples increased greatly, until he was attended by five

hundred ascetics.

In the rainy season he left the Himālayas, and attended by the body

of ascetics, journeyed through the towns and villages till he came to

Benares, and there took up his dwelling-place under the patronage of

the king in the royal park. When he had there passed the four rainy

months, he took leave of the king. But the king asked him to stop,

saying, “You are old, Sir. Why go to the Himālayas? Send your disciples

there, but dwell here yourself!”

So the Bodisat gave the five hundred ascetics in charge to his senior

pupil, and sent him away, saying, “You shall go and live with these men

in the Himālayas. I will stay here.”

Now the senior pupil was a royal devotee who had abandoned a mighty

kingdom for the religious life; and having gone through the course

of meditation preparatory thereto, had acquired the eight kinds of

spiritual insight.

As he was living in the Himālaya region with the ascetics, he one day

conceived a desire to see his teacher, and said to the ascetics, “Do

you live on quietly here; I am just going to pay my respects to our

teacher, and shall be back soon.”

Then he went to the place where his teacher was, saluted him, and

offered him friendly greeting; and spreading a mat on the floor, lay

down by his side.

Just then the king also went to the park to see the teacher, and

saluting him, took his seat respectfully on one side. Though the

disciple saw the king, he did not get up, but lying there just as he

was broke forth into a chant of joy, “Oh, Happiness! Oh, Happiness!”

The king, displeased that the ascetic, on seeing him, had not arisen,

said to the Bodisat, “Sir, this ascetic must have enjoyed himself to

his heart’s content. He lies there, quite at his ease, singing a song!”

“Great king! This ascetic was once a king like you. He is thinking,

‘Formerly, as a layman, even when enjoying royal splendour, and guarded

by many men with arms in their hands, I had no such joy as this,’

and he utters this exclamation of joy in reference to the joys of

meditation, and to the happiness of the religious life.”

And having thus spoken, the Bodisat further uttered this verse in order

to instruct the king in righteousness--

He who needs no others to defend him,

He who has not others to defend,--

He it is who lives at ease, O king!

Untroubled he with yearnings or with lusts.

When the king had listened to this discourse, he was satisfied again;

and taking leave, he returned to the palace. And the disciple, too,

took his leave, and returned to the Himālaya region. But the Bodisat

dwelt there in continued meditation till he died, and he was then

reborn in the Brahma heaven.

* * * * *

When the Teacher had preached this discourse, and told the two stories,

he established the connexion, and summed up the Jātaka as follows:

“The pupil of that time was Bhaddiya the Elder, but the Master of the

company of disciples was I myself.”[278]

END OF THE STORY ON A HAPPY LIFE.

CHAPTER II. SĪLAVAGGA.

No. 11.

LAKKHAṆA JĀTAKA.

The Story of ‘Beauty.’

“_The advantage is to the good._”--This the Master told while at the

Bambu-grove near Rājagaha, about Devadatta.[279] For on one occasion,

when Devadatta asked for the Five Rules,[280] and could not get what he

wanted, he made a schism in the Order, and taking four hundred of the

mendicants with him, went and dwelt at the rock called Gayā-sīsa.

Afterwards the minds of these mendicants became open to conviction. And

the Master, knowing it, said to his two chief disciples, “Sāriputta!

those five hundred pupils of yours adopted the heresy of Devadatta, and

went away with him, but now their minds have become open to conviction.

Do you go there with a number of the brethren, and preach to them, and

instruct them in the Fruits of the Path of Holiness, and bring them

back with you!”

They went, and preached to them, and instructed them in the Fruits,

and the next day at dawn returned to the Bambu Grove, bringing those

mendicants with them. And as Sāriputta on his return was standing by,

after paying his respects to the Blessed One, the mendicants exalted

him, saying to the Blessed One, “Lord! how excellent appears our

elder brother, the Minister of Righteousness, returning with five

hundred disciples as his retinue, whereas Devadatta is now without any

followers at all!”

“Not only now, O mendicants! has Sāriputta come in glory, surrounded by

the assembly of his brethren; in a former birth, also, he did the same.

And not now only has Devadatta been deprived of his following; in a

former birth also he was the same.”

The monks requested the Blessed One to explain how that was. Then the

Blessed One made manifest a thing hidden by the interval of existence.

* * * * *

Long ago, in the city Rājagaha, in the land of Magadha, there ruled

a certain king of Magadha. At that time the Bodisat came to life as

a deer, and when he grew up he lived in the forest at the head of a

herd of a thousand deer. He had two young ones, named Lakkhaṇa (the

Beautifully-marked One, ‘Beauty’) and Kāḷa (the Dark One, ‘Brownie’).

When he had become old, he called them, and said, “My beloved! I am

old. Do you now lead the herd about.” And he placed five hundred of the

deer under the charge of each of his sons.

Now in the land of Magadha at crop time, when the corn is ripening

in the fields, there is danger brewing for the deer in the adjoining

forest. Some in one place, and some in another, the sons of men dig

pit-falls, fix stakes, set traps with stones in them, and lay snares to

kill the creatures that would eat the crops. And many are the deer that

come to destruction.

So when the Bodisat saw that crop time was at hand, he sent for his

sons, and said, “My children! the time of growing crops has come; many

deer will come to destruction. We are old, and will get along by some

means or another without stirring much abroad. But do you lead your

herds away to the mountainous part of the forest, and return when the

crops are cut!”

“Very well,” said they; and departed with their attendant herds.

Now the men who live on the route they have to follow know quite

well, “At such and such a time the deer are wont to come up into the

mountains; at such and such a time they will come down again.” And

lurking here and there in ambush, they wound and kill many deer.

But Brownie, in his dullness, knew not that there were times when he

ought to travel and times when he ought not; and he led his herd of

deer early and late alike--at dawn, or in evening twilight--past the

village gates. The men in different places--some in the open, some

in ambush--destroyed, as usual, a number of the deer. So he, by his

stupidity, brought many of his herd to destruction, and re-entered the

forest with diminished numbers.

Beauty, on the other hand, was learned and clever, and fertile in

resource; and he knew when to go on, and when to stay. He approached no

village gates; he travelled not by day, nor even at dawn or by evening

twilight; but he travelled at midnight, and so he reached the forest

without losing a single animal.

There they stayed four months; and when the crops were cut they came

down from the mountain-side. Brownie, going back as he had come,

brought the rest of the herd to destruction, and arrived alone. But

Beauty, without losing even one of his herd, came up to his parent

attended by all the five hundred of his deer.

And when the Bodisat saw his sons approaching, he held a consultation

with the herd of deer, and put together this stanza,--

The righteous man hath profit, and the courteous in speech.

Look there at Beauty coming back with all his troop of kindred,

Then look at this poor Brownie, deprived of all he had![281]

When he had thus welcomed his son, the Bodisat lived to a good old age,

and passed away according to his deeds.

* * * * *

Thus the Master gave them this lesson in virtue in illustration of

what he had said, “Not only now, O mendicants! has Sāriputta come in

glory, surrounded by the assembly of his brethren; in a former birth,

also, he did the same. And not now only has Devadatta been deprived of

his following; in a former birth also he was the same.” And he united

the two stories, and made the connexion, and summed up the Jātaka as

follows: “Then ‘Brownie’ was Devadatta, and his attendants Devadatta’s

attendants. ’Beauty’ was Sāriputta, and his attendants the followers of

the Buddha. The mother was the mother of Rāhula, but the father was I

myself.”

END OF THE STORY ABOUT ‘BEAUTY.’

No. 12.

NIGRODHA-MIGA JĀTAKA.

The Banyan Deer.

_“Follow the Banyan deer,” etc._--This the Master told while at

Jetavana, about the mother of the Elder named Kumāra Kassapa.[282]

She, we are told, was the daughter of a rich merchant of the city of

Rājagaha; she was deeply rooted in virtue, and despised all transient

things; she had reached her last birth, and in her heart the destiny of

future Arahatship shone like a lamp within a translucent pitcher. From

the time when she knew her own mind she had no pleasure in a lay life,

but was desirous to take the vows. And she said to her parents,--

“Mother, dear! my heart finds no pleasure in household life. I want to

take the vows according to that teaching of the Buddha which leads to

Nirvāna. Let me be ordained!”

“What is it you are saying, dear? This family is of great wealth, and

you are our only daughter. You cannot be allowed to take the vows.”

When, after repeated asking, she was unable to obtain her parents’

permission, she thought, “Let it be so. When I get to another family, I

will make favour with my husband, and take the vows.”

And when she grew up, she entered another family as wife, and lived a

household life as a virtuous and attractive woman. And in due time she

conceived, but she knew it not.

Now in that city they proclaimed a feast. All the dwellers in the city

kept the feast, and the city was decked like a city of the gods. But

she, up to the time when the feast was at its height, neither anointed

herself nor dressed, but went about in her every-day clothes. Then her

husband said to her,--

“My dear! all the city is devoted to the feast; yet you adorn yourself

not.”

“The body, Sir, is but filled with its thirty-two constituent parts.

What profit can there be in adorning it? For this body has no divine,

no angelic attributes: it is not made of gold, or gems, or yellow

sandal-wood; it springs not from the womb of lotus-flowers, white or

red; it is not filled with the nectar-balm of holiness. But verily

it is born in corruption: it springs from father and mother: its

attributes are the decomposition, the wearing away, the dissolution,

the destruction, of that which is impermanent! It is produced by

excitement; it is the cause of pains, the subject of mournings, a

lodging-place for all diseases. It is the receptacle for the action of

Karma; foul within, without it is ever discharging: its end is death:

and its goal is the charnel-house,--there, in the sight of all the

world, to be the dwelling-place of worms and creeping things!”[283]

“Dear Lord! what should I gain by adorning this body? Would not putting

ornaments on it be like painting the outside of a sepulchre?”

“My dear!” replied the young nobleman, “if you think this body so

sinful, why don’t you become a nun?”

“If you grant me leave, dear husband, I will take the vows this day!”

“Very well, then; I will get you ordained,” said he. And giving a

donation at a great cost, he took her, with a numerous retinue, to the

nunnery, and had her admitted into the Order of Nuns--but among those

who sided with Devadatta. And she was overjoyed that her wish had been

fulfilled, and that she had become a nun.

Now, as she became far gone with child, the nuns noticed the alteration

in her person,--the swelling of her hands and feet and back, and the

increase in her girth; and they asked her, “Lady, you seem to be with

child. How is this?”

“I don’t know how it is, ladies; but I have kept the vows.”

Then the nuns led her to Devadatta, and asked him, “Sir! this young

lady, after with difficulty gaining her husband’s consent, was received

into the Order. But now it is evident that she is with child; and we

know not whether she became so when she was a laywoman or when she was

a nun. What shall we do now?”

Devadatta, not being a Buddha, and having no forbearance, kindness, or

compassion, thought thus: “If people can say, ‘A nun of Devadatta’s

side is carrying about a child in her womb, and Devadatta condones

it,’ I shall be disgraced. I must unfrock this woman!” And without any

inquiry, he answered with eagerness, “Go and expel this woman from the

Order!”--just as if he were rushing forwards to roll away a mere piece

of stone!

When they heard his decision, they arose, and bowed to him, and

returned to the nunnery. But the young girl said to the nuns, “Ladies!

the Elder, Devadatta, is not the Buddha. Not under him did I enter the

religious life, but under the Buddha himself, who is supreme among men.

What I obtained with such difficulty, O, deprive me not of that! Take

me, I pray you, and go to the Master himself at Jetavana!”

And they took her; and passing over the forty-five leagues of road

which stretched from Rājagaha to that place, they arrived in due

course at Jetavana, and saluting the Master, told him the whole matter.

The Teacher thought, “Although the child was conceived when she

was still in the world, yet the heretics will have an opportunity

of saying, ‘The mendicant Gautama has accepted a nun expelled by

Devadatta!’ Therefore, to prevent such talk, this case ought to be

heard in the presence of the king and his ministers.”

So the next day he sent for Pasenadi the king of Kosala, Anātha

Piṇḍika the Elder, Anātha Piṇḍika, the Younger, the Lady Visākhā the

influential disciple, and other well-known persons of distinction. And

in the evening, when all classes of disciples had assembled, he said to

Upāli the Elder, “Go and examine into this affair of the young nun in

the presence of the church!”

The Elder accordingly went to the assembly; and when he had seated

himself in his place, called the Lady Visākhā before the king, and gave

in charge to her the following investigation: “Do you go, Visākhā, and

find out exactly on what day of what month this poor child was received

into the Order, and then conclude whether she conceived before or after

that day.”

The Lady agreed; and having had a curtain hung, made a private

examination behind it of the young nun; and comparing the days and

months, found out that in truth she had conceived while she was yet

living in the world. And she went to the Elder, and told him so;

and the Elder, in the midst of the assembly, declared the nun to be

innocent.

Thus was her innocence established. And she bowed down in grateful

adoration to the assembly, and to the Master; and she returned with the

other nuns to the nunnery.

Now, when her time was come, she brought forth a son strong in

spirit--the result of a wish she had uttered at the feet of Padumuttara

the Buddha. And one day, as the king was passing near the nunnery, he

heard the cry of a child, and asked his ministers the reason. They knew

of the matter, and said, “O king! that young nun has had a son, and the

cry comes from it.”

“To take care of a child, Sirs, is said to be a hindrance to nuns in

their religious life. Let us undertake the care of it,” said he.

And he had the child given to the women of his harem, and brought it up

as a prince. And on the naming-day they called him Kassapa; but as he

was brought up in royal state, he became known as Kassapa the Prince.

When he was seven years old, he was entered in the noviciate under the

Buddha; and when he attained the necessary age, received full orders;

and, as time went on, he became the most eloquent among the preachers.

And the Master gave him the pre-eminence, saying, “Mendicants! the

chief of my disciples in eloquence is Kassapa the Prince.” Afterwards,

through the Vammīka Sutta, he attained to Arahatship. His mother, the

nun, too, obtained spiritual insight, and reached Nirvāna.[284] And

Kassapa the Prince became as distinguished in the religion of the

Buddhas as the full moon in the midst of the vault of heaven.

Now one day the Successor of the Buddhas, when he had returned from

his rounds and taken his meal, exhorted the brethren, and entered his

apartment. The brethren, after hearing the exhortation, spent the

day either in their day-rooms or night-rooms, and then met together

at eventide for religious conversation. And, as they sat there, they

exalted the character of the Buddha, saying, “Brethren, the Elder

Prince Kassapa, and the Lady his mother, were nearly ruined by

Devadatta, through his not being a Buddha, and having no forbearance or

kindness; but the Supreme Buddha, being the King of Righteousness, and

being perfect in kindness and forbearance and compassion, became the

means of salvation to them both!”

Then the Master entered the hall with the dignity peculiar to a Buddha,

and seating himself, asked them, “What are you sitting here talking

about, O mendicants?”

“Lord,” said they, “concerning your excellences!” And they told him the

whole matter.

“Not now only, O mendicants!” said he, “has the Successor of the

Buddhas been a source of salvation and a refuge to these two; formerly

also he was the same.”

Then the monks asked the Blessed One to explain how that was; and the

Blessed One made manifest that which had been hidden by change of birth.

* * * * *

Long ago, when Brahma-datta was reigning in Benares, the Bodisat came

to life as a deer. When he was born he was of a golden colour; his eyes

were like round jewels, his horns were white as silver, his mouth was

red as a cluster of kamala flowers, his hoofs were bright and hard as

lacquer-work, his tail as fine as the tail of a Tibetan ox,[285] and

his body as large in size as a foal’s.

He lived in the forest with an attendant herd of five hundred deer,

under the name of the King of the Banyan Deer; and not far from him

there dwelt another deer, golden as he, under the name of the Monkey

Deer, with a like attendant herd.

The king of Benares at that time was devoted to hunting, never ate

without meat, and used to summon all the townspeople to go hunting

every day, to the destruction of their ordinary work.

The people thought, “This king puts an end to all our work. Suppose now

in the park we were to sow food and provide water for the deer, and

drive a number of deer into it, and close the entrance, and deliver

them over to the king.”

So they planted in the park grass for the deer to eat, and provided

water, and tied up the gate; and calling the citizens, they entered the

forest, with clubs and all kinds of weapons in their hands, to look for

the deer. And thinking, “We shall best catch the deer by surrounding

them,” they encircled a part of the forest about a league across. And

in so doing they surrounded the very place where the Banyan Deer and

the Monkey Deer were living.

Then striking the trees and bushes, and beating on the ground, with

their clubs, they drove the herd of deer out of the place where they

were; and making a great noise by rattling their swords and javelins

and bows, they made the herd enter the park, and shut the gate. And

then they went to the king, and said to him:

“O king! by your constant going to the chase, you put a stop to our

work. We have now brought deer from the forest, and filled your park

with them. Henceforth feed on _them_!” And so saying, they took their

leave, and departed.

When the king heard that, he went to the park; and seeing there two

golden-coloured deer, he granted them their lives. But thenceforth

he would sometimes go himself to shoot a deer, and bring it home;

sometimes his cook would go and shoot one. The deer, as soon as they

saw the bow, would quake with the fear of death, and take to their

heels; but when they had been hit once or twice, they became weary or

wounded, and were killed.

And the herd of deer told all this to the Bodisat. He sent for the

Monkey Deer, and said:

“Friend, almost all the deer are being destroyed. Now, though they

certainly must die, yet henceforth let them not be wounded with the

arrows. Let the deer take it by turns to go to the place of execution.

One day let the lot fall upon my herd, and the next day on yours. Let

the deer whose turn it is go to the place of execution, put his head on

the block, and lie down. If this be done, the deer will at least escape

laceration.”

He agreed: and thenceforth the deer whose turn it was used to go and

lie down, after placing his neck on the block of execution. And the

cook used to come and carry off the one he found lying there.

But one day the lot fell upon a roe in the herd of the Monkey Deer who

was with young. She went to the Monkey Deer, and said, “Lord! I am with

young. When I have brought forth my son, we will both take our turn.

Order the turn to pass me by.”

“I cannot make your lot,” said he, “fall upon the others. You know well

enough it has fallen upon you. Go away!”

Receiving no help from him, she went to the Bodisat, and told him the

matter. He listened to her, and said, “Be it so! Do you go back. I will

relieve you of your turn.” And he went _himself_, and put his neck

upon the block of execution, and lay down.

The cook, seeing him, exclaimed, “The King of the Deer, whose life was

promised to him, is lying in the place of execution. What does this

mean?” And he went hastily, and told the king.

The king no sooner heard it than he mounted his chariot, and proceeded

with a great retinue to the place, and beholding the Bodisat, said, “My

friend the King of the Deer! did I not grant you your life? Why are you

lying here?”

“O great king! a roe with young came and told me that the lot had

fallen upon her. Now it was impossible for me to transfer her miserable

fate to any one else. So I, giving my life to her, and accepting death

in her place, have lain down. Harbour no further suspicion, O great

king!”

“My Lord the golden-coloured King of the Deer! I never yet saw, even

among men, one so full of forbearance, kindness, and compassion. I am

pleased with thee in this matter. Rise up! I grant your lives, both to

you and to her!”

“But though two be safe, what shall the rest do, O king of men?”

“Then I grant their lives to the rest, my Lord.”

“Thus, then, great king, the deer in the park will have gained

security, but what will the others do?”

“They also shall not be molested.”

“Great king! even though the deer dwell secure, what shall the rest of

the four-footed creatures do?”

“They also shall be free from fear.”

“Great king! even though the quadrupeds are in safety, what shall the

flocks of birds do?”

“Well, I grant the same boon to them.”

“Great king! the birds then will obtain peace, but what of the fish who

dwell in the water?”

“They shall have peace as well.”

And so the Great Being, having interceded with the king for all

creatures, rose up and established the king in the Five Precepts,[286]

and said, “Walk in righteousness, O great king! Doing justice and

mercy to fathers and mothers, to sons and daughters, to townsmen and

landsmen, you shall enter, when your body is dissolved, the happy world

of heaven!”

Thus, with the grace of a Buddha, he preached the Truth to the king;

and when he had dwelt a few days in the park to exhort the king, he

went away to the forest with his attendant herd.

And the roe gave birth to a son as beautiful as buds of flowers; and he

went playing about with the Monkey Deer’s herd. But when its mother saw

that, she said, “My son, henceforth go not in his company; you may keep

to the Banyan Deer’s herd!” And thus exhorting him, she uttered the

verse--

Follow the Banyan Deer:

Dwell not with the Monkey Deer.

Better death with the Banyan Deer,

Than life with the Monkey Deer.[287]

Now after that the deer, secure of their lives, began to eat men’s

crops. And the men dared not strike them or drive them away,

recollecting how it had been granted to them that they should dwell

secure. So they met together in front of the king’s palace, and told

the matter to the king.

“When I was well pleased, I granted to the leader of the Banyan Deer a

boon,” said he. “I may give up my kingdom, but not my oath! Begone with

you! Not a man in my kingdom shall be allowed to hurt the deer.”

When the Banyan Deer heard that, he assembled the herds, and said,

“Henceforth you are not allowed to eat other people’s crops.” And so

forbidding them, he sent a message to the men: “Henceforth let the

husbandmen put up no fence to guard their crops; but let them tie

leaves round the edge of the field as a sign.”

From that time, they say, the sign of the tying of leaves was seen in

the fields, and from that time not a single deer trespassed beyond it;

for such was the instruction they received from the Bodisat.

And the Bodisat continued thus his life long to instruct the deer, and

passed away with his herd according to his deeds.

The king, too, hearkened to the exhortations of the Bodisat, and then,

in due time, passed away, according to his deeds.

* * * * *

The Master, having finished the discourse in illustration of his

saying, “Not only now was I the protector of the nun and of Kassapa the

Prince; in a former birth I was the same,” he fully expounded the Four

Truths. And when he had told the double story, he made the connexion,

and summed up the Jātaka by saying, “He who was then the Monkey Deer

was Devadatta, his herd was Devadatta’s following, the roe was the nun,

her son was Kassapa the Prince, the king was Ānanda, but the royal

Banyan Deer was I myself.”

END OF THE STORY OF THE BANYAN DEER.