The Jataka, Vol. IV: Title Page

The Jataka, Vol. IV, tr. by W.H.D. Rouse, [1901], at

p. i p. ii p. iii p. iv










W. H. D. ROUSE, M.A.,







Cambridge University Press

The Jataka, Vol. IV: Contents

The Jataka, Vol. IV, tr. by W.H.D. Rouse, [1901], at

p. v



About Mittavindaka, and how he was punished for covetousness.


How an ascetic made wise choice of boons offered him by Sakka.


(See Puṇṇaka-jātaka.)


How a gift to a Pacceka Buddha was plenteously rewarded, and of the magic ship.


How an ascetic was free from all passion, and how he explained to a king the nature of passion.


Of a number of persons who confessed their secret faults, and of the virtue of an Act of Truth.


How a low-born man became king by eating of a cock's flesh, and of the gratitude and ingratitude of friends shown according to their kind.


How an ungrateful son planned to murder his old father, but when his own son overhearing showed him an object-lesson of his own ugliness, he was put to shame.

p. vi


How a father refused to believe that his son was dead, because it was not the custom of his family to die young: this was the result of good living through many generations.


How a falcon pretended to make friends with a fowl, but the other was not deceived.


How one who mourned for his son was comforted.


How a niggard was cured by holy beings who pretended to choke at his food.


Of a crow and two ruddy geese, how they discoursed each of his own food, and what was the cause of their colours.




Of the vanity of omens, and how goodness and kindness are omens of the best.


How a girl was kept prisoner in a tower that she might wed no one, and how the attempt was defeated, of the magic city which was guarded by an ass, of the wild deeds of the Ten Slave Brethren, who became kings by right of conquest, and finally perished, and how a king was consoled for the loss of his beloved son.


How an elephant, too virtuous to resist, was captured, and how the king released him, touched by the love this elephant bore to his mother.


How a prince made a promise which he fulfilled when he came into his kingdom.


How Right and Wrong argued each his cause, and how Wrong had the worst of it.

p. vii


How a king and queen had continence in wedlock, and how Sakka put the queen to the test, and how she was justified.


How a villager stole water from his fellow-labourer's pot, and by meditating upon it became a Pacceka Buddha; and how others, pondering upon their sins, attained to the like result.


How a prince, by seeing the dewdrops, was led to meditate on the impermanency of all things, and retired from the world.


How two princes with their sister went abroad to be out of harm's way, and dwelt in the mountains; how they bore the news of their father's death; how the eldest prince sent his slippers to take his own place on the throne, and how they gave token of displeasure if any wrong judgement were given.


How a prince by seeming modesty made friends of all manner of people, and the device whereby he pacified his brothers, who would have made war on him.


How a blind mariner was made the king's assessor and valuer, and how he was pilot to a vessel, which traversed the perilous seas of fairy land.




How a sacred tree was to be cut down for a pillar, and the spirit of the tree appeared to the king, and by his unselfishness turned the king's purpose.


How a body of carpenters settled in a certain island, and the island deities determined to overwhelm them with a flood; how the wise were saved, but the foolish remained and were all lost.


How a prince declined to be his father's viceroy, and proceeded to the frontier, which he won over by doing the people services, and then demanded the kingdom; and how Sakka gave him a lesson on his greed.

p. viii


Ten points of wisdom explained to a prince.


How Sakka changed Mātali into a black hound, and sent him to frighten the world out of its evil ways.






How a queen tempted her step-son to sin, and on being refused pretended that he had tempted her, and how he was justified and the woman put to shame.


The signs of a friend and of a foe.


How a man learnt a charm for growing fruit out of due season, and how he forgot it because he was false to his teacher.


Of a lion which plotted to get a tree cut down, and how he was outwitted by the deity of the tree.


How a royal goose and a human king made fast friends; how the goose saved two foolish geese which flew a race with the sun, and of other his marvellous feats.


How an ascetic was tempted in the flesh, and how his father guided him by good counsel.


How a pupil got gold to pay his teacher withal by meditating upon a river bank.


Of a prince who dwelt in a forest, and how he fell in love with a lady by seeing flowers which she dropt into a river; how the prince became universal monarch, and what befel him at the great bo-tree.

p. ix


How a king distributed all his treasure in alms, and with his sister retired to the forest; how he went further, and his sister sought him.


How a brahmin's wife was of lewd behaviour, and the husband would have killed her paramour, by sacrificing him in the foundation of a gate; how by talking too soon he nearly met this fate himself, but was admonished by a pupil who told him stories; of a young man who was ill entreated in a brothel, of a bird which came to grief by interfering in others' business, of four men who were killed in trying to save another, of a goat which found the knife that was to kill her, of two fairies who knew when to be silent. After these tales were told he saved the man's life.


Of a rich spend-all who cast himself away in the Ganges; how a deer saved him, and he repaid the service by betraying the deer to capture, but his aim was frustrated, and safety proclaimed for all deer.


How a king went hunting, and in chasing after a stag which passed him fell into a pit and by the very stag was rescued; and how a chaplain put two and two together and made twenty.


How a flock of parrots used to devour the rice crops, and how their king being caught in a snare, forbore to cry out until they had eaten, and what persuasion was used by which he got free again.


Two fairies that dwelt on a beautiful hill, and how the husband was wounded and the wife made lament, until Sakka came to the rescue.


Of the value of friends, as shown in the story of a hawk whose nestlings were saved by the aid of an osprey, a lion, and a tortoise.


How a wise sage instructed a king what it is makes the true brahmin.


Of a number of ascetics, and how Sakka tested them.

p. x


Two friends promise to wed their children together, if they should have one a daughter and the other a son; how the pair was childless, and the queen gave her lord sixteen thousand wives who had never a child among them; how Sakka rewarded the queen's virtue by granting a son to her; how Sakka built this prince a magical palace; how the prince could not laugh until a juggler did a merry trick before him.


Of a pigeon, a snake, a jackal, and a bear, which took on them the vows for subduing of desires; and an ascetic being unable for his pride to induce the mystic trance, reviled a Pacceka Buddha, but then in remorse took the vow for subduing pride, and was much edified by the pigeon, the snake, the jackal, and the bear.


Of a holy peacock, gold-coloured, which chanted a hymn morning and evening, and how he was taken prisoner by yielding to fleshly desire, and how he discoursed to a queen and was set free.


Of a clever boar which worked for a number of carpenters, and how he outwitted a tiger.


How some merchants found a magic tree, and what wonders came out of the branches: a lesson to eschew greed.


Of the effect of merit, and how it brings men to high felicity, and how it is gained.


The marks by which you may know a good brahmin, and who are not rightly so called; and of the flowers which were thrown into the air, and fell on the Pacceka Buddhas in Himalaya.


Of precedence in gifts.


How a high and mighty maiden turned up her nose at a Caṇḍāla, but he by persistence got her to wife; how their son gave alms in a wrong spirit, and by what means he was brought to his right mind; also of an ascetic who was well schooled by the Caṇḍalā man; and the Caṇḍāla's glorious death.

p. xi


Of two men who were fast friends through many births: as Caṇḍālas, who pretended to be brahmins, but were betrayed by their speech; as young deer on the mountains; as a couple of ospreys by the Nerbudda; as lads of high birth in Uttarapañcāla, when one recognized the other by a hymn he sung.


How a prince gave his own eyes as a gift, and his reward.




Of a golden deer, who being caught in a trap, would not cry out for fear of scaring his fellows; how his friends stood by him; how he preached before the queen; and how he was set free.


Of a golden goose which discoursed of the law, how he was caught, how the hunter's heart was softened to set him free, how he went before the king and prevailed with him also.


Evil communications corrupt good manners: a tale of two parrots of which one was good and one bad according to the company they kept.


Of two fairies, who could not cease grieving for one night they had been parted from each other, and how they were at length consoled.


How a sham ascetic traded upon knowledge which be gained by accident, and how he was found out by the king's son; of the device he used to calumniate the prince.


Of a puissant serpent king, who left all his magnificence on the fast-days; how a serpent-charmer caught him, and made him dance for show.


How prince Woman-hater was tempted to fall by a woman, and finally renounced the world.

p. xii




How a king and his chaplain agreed that, if either of them had a son, he should be as a son to the other; how the chaplain had four sons, who grew up rough fellows and robbers, but finally in spite of all attempts to make each king in turn, they renounced the world.


How a queen lost two sons devoured up by a goblin, and how the third was protected by being kept in an iron house, and why he renounced the world.

The Jataka, Vol. IV: Additional Notes And Corrections.

The Jataka, Vol. IV, tr. by W.H.D. Rouse, [1901], at

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9 No. 154, line 3. Fick (Sociale Gliederung zu Buddha's Zeit) would render seṇibandham a "guild quarrel."

12 At a sneeze, a Hindu in the N. W. Provinces will still say, "May you live a hundred years." North Indian Notes and Queries, iv. 388.

104 For the first stanza compare Dhammapada, p. 146.

167 For the second and third stanzas compare Dhammapada, p. 149.

207 A Russian variant of the Gāmaṇicaṇḍa Birth is given in Prof. S. Oldenburg's Review of volume I. of the present translation: (Журналъ Министерства Народнаго Просвѣщенія) 1896, pp. 47 foll.

251 I have to thank Fick (Soc. Glied. p. 87 note) for a correction of the list of righteous persons, which should run thus; "…younger brother (who was) viceroy, brahmin family priest, courtier-charioteer, treasurer, noble master of the granaries, porter, slave-girl courtesan."

257 Fick explains the rajjugāhakaamacco as a kind of royal surveyor for tax purposes, which suits the context.

The rajju will be his chain, symbol of office (Soc. Glied. 7 note).


No. 316. Jātaka-Mālā no. 6, çaça.

          Cariyā-Piṭaka no. 10, Sasapaṇḍita.


No. 443. Jātaka-Mālā no. 21, Cullabodhi.

          Cariyā-piṭaka no. 14, Cullabodhi.

No. 463. Jātaka-Mālā no. 14, Sapāraga.

No. 480. Jātaka-Mā1ā no. 7, Agastya.

          Cariyā-piṭaka no. 1, Akatti.

No. 482. Jātaka-Mālā no. 26, Ruru.

No. 483. Jātaka-Mālā no. 25, Çarabha.

No. 488. Jātaka-Mālā no. 19, Bisa.

          Cariyā-piṭaka no. 24, Bhisa.

No. 502. Jātaka-Mālā, no. 22, Haṁsa.

No. 510. Jātaka-Mālā no. 32, Ayogṛha.

           Cariyā-piṭaka no. 23, Ayoghara.

Page 125, line 26, for Teacher read Being.

Page 256, line 4 from foot, read Anuruddha.

The Jataka, Vol. IV: No. 439.: Catu-Dvāra-Jātaka.

The Jataka, Vol. IV, tr. by W.H.D. Rouse, [1901], at

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No. 439. 1


[1] "Four gates," etc.—This story the Master told at Jetavana, about a certain unruly person. The circumstances have been already set forth in the first Birth of the Ninth Book. 2 Here again the Master asked this brother, "Is it true, as they say, that you are disobedient?" "Yes, Sir." "Long ago," said he, "when by disobedience you refused to do the bidding of wise men, a razor-wheel was given to you." And he told a story of the past.

Once upon a time, in the days of the Buddha Kassapa, there dwelt in Benares a merchant, whose wealth was eighty crores of money, having a son named Mittavindaka. The mother and father of this lad had entered upon the First Path, but he was wicked, an unbeliever.

When by and bye the father was dead and gone, the mother, who in his stead managed their property, thus said to her son:—"My son, the state of man is one hard to attain 3; give alms, practise virtue, keep the holy day, give ear to the Law." Then said he, "Mother, no almsgiving or such like for me; never name them to me; as I live, so shall I fare hereafter." On a certain full-moon holy day, as he spoke in this fashion, his mother answered, "Son, this day is set apart as a high holy day. To-day take upon you the holy day vows; visit the cloister, and all night long listen to the Law, and when you come back I will give you a thousand pieces of money."

For desire of this money the son consented. As soon as he had broken his fast he went to the cloister, and there he spent the day; but at

p. 2

night to the end that not one word of the Law should reach his ear 2 he lay down in a certain place, and fell asleep. On the next day, very early in the morning, he washed his face, and went to his own house and sat down.

Now the mother thought within herself, "To-day my son after hearing the Law will come back early in the morning, bringing with him the Elder who has preached the Law." So she made ready gruel, and food hard and soft, and prepared a seat, and awaited his coming. When she saw her son coming all alone, "Son," quoth she, "why have you not brought the preacher with you?"—"No preacher for me, mother!" says he. "Here then," quoth the woman, "you drink this gruel." "You promised me a thousand pieces, mother," he says, "first give this to me, and afterward I will drink." "Drink first, my son, and then you shall have the money." Quoth he, "No, I will not drink till I get the money." Then his mother laid before him a purse of a thousand pieces. And he drank the gruel, took the purse with a thousand pieces, and went about his business; and so thereafter, until in no long time he had gained two millions.

Then it came into his mind that he would provide a ship, and do business with it. So he provided a ship, and said to his mother, "Mother, I mean to do business in this ship." Said she, "You are my only son, and in this house there is plenty of wealth; the sea is full of dangers. Do not go!" But he said, "Go I will, and you cannot prevent me." "Yes, I will prevent you," she answered, and took hold of his hand; but he thrust her hand away, and struck her down, and in a moment he was gone, and under way.

On the seventh day, for cause of Mittavindaka, the ship stood immovable upon the deep. Lots were cast, and thrice was the lot found in the hand of Mittavindaka 1. Then they gave him a raft; and saying—"Let not many perish for the sole sake of this one," they cast him adrift upon the deep. In an instant the ship sprang forth with speed over the deep.

And he upon his raft came to a certain island. There in a crystal palace he espied four female spirits of the dead. 3 They used to be in woe seven days and seven in happiness. In their company he experienced bliss divine. Then, when the time came for them to undergo their penance, said they, "Master, we are going to leave you for seven days; while we are gone, bide here, and be not distressed." So saying they departed.

But he, full of longing, again embarked upon his raft, and passing over the ocean came to another isle; there in a palace of silver he saw

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eight other spirits. In the same way, he saw upon another island, sixteen in a palace all of jewels, and on yet another, thirty-two that were in a golden hall. With these, as before, he dwelt in divine blessedness, and when they went away to their penance, sailed away once more over the ocean; till at last he beheld a city with four gates, surrounded by a wall. That, they say, is the Ussada Hell, the place where many beings, condemned to hell, endure their own deeds: but to Mittavindaka it appeared as though a city all beautiful. Thought he, "I will visit yon city, and be its king." So he entered, and there he saw a being in torment, supporting a wheel sharp as a razor; but to Mittavindaka it seemed as though that razor-wheel upon his head were a lotus bloom; the five-fold fetters upon his breast seemed as it were a splendid and rich vesture; the blood dripping from his head seemed to be the perfumed powder of red sandal wood; the sound of groaning was as the sound of sweetest song. So approaching he said, "Ho, man! Long enough you have been carrying that flower of lotus; now give it to me!" He replied, "My lord, no lotus it is, but a razor-wheel." "Ah," quoth the first, "so you say because you do not wish to give it" Thought the condemned wretch: "My past deeds must be exhausted. No doubt this fellow, like me, is here for smiting a mother. Well, I will give him the razor-wheel." Then he said, "Here then, take the lotus," and with those words cast the razor-wheel upon his head; and on his head it fell, crushing it in. In an instant 4 Mittavindaka knew that it was a razor-wheel, and says he, "Take your wheel, take back your wheel!" groaning aloud in his pain; but the other had disappeared.

At that moment the Bodhisatta with a great following was making a round through the Ussada Hell, and arrived at that spot. Mittavindaka, espying him, cried out, "Lord king of the Gods, this razor-wheel is piercing and tearing me like a pestle crushing mustard seeds! what sin have I committed?" and in asking this question he repeated these two stanzas:

"Four gates this iron city hath, where I am trapt and caught:
A rampart girds me round about: what evil have I wrought?
"Now fast are closed the city gates: this wheel destroyeth me:
Why like a caged bird am I caught? why, Goblin, should it be?"

Then the King of the Gods, to explain the matter to him, uttered these stanzas:

"An hundred thousand thou, good Sir, didst own, and twenty eke:
Yet to a friend thou wouldst not lend thine ear, when he would speak.

"Swift didst thou flee across the sea, a perilous thing, I ween;
The four, the eight, didst visit straight, and with the eight, sixteen,

"And with sixteen the thirty-two; and lust didst ever feel:
See now, the meed of utter greed upon thy head, this wheel.

p. 4

"Who tread the highway of desire that spacious thoroughfare,
That highway great, insatiate,—’tis theirs this wheel to bear.

"Who will not sacrifice their wealth, nor to the Path repair,
Who do not know this should be so,—’tis theirs this wheel to bear.

[5] "Ponder the issue of thy deeds, and see
How great thy wealth, and do not crave to be
    Master of ill-got gains; what friends advise
Do,—and the wheel shall never come nigh thee."

[6] Hearing this, Mittavindaka thought to himself, "This son of the gods has explained exactly what I have done. No doubt he knows also the measure of my punishment." And he repeated the ninth stanza:

"How long, O Goblin, shall this wheel upon my head remain?
How many thousand years? reveal, nor let me ask in vain!"

Then the Great Being declared the matter in the tenth stanza:

"The wheel shall roll, and on shall roll, no saviour shall appear,
Fixt on thy head till thou be dead—O Mittavinda, hear!

Thus saying, the Divine Being returned to his own place, and the other fell into great misery.

The Master, having ended this discourse, identified the Birth:—"At that time the unruly Brother was Mittavindaka, and I myself was the king of the gods."


1:1 See Nos. 82, 104, 369; Avadāna-Çataka, iii. 6. (36), and Feer's note on p. 137 of that book.

1:2 No. 427, vol. iii. p. 287 of this translation.

1:3 Among the five gatis.

2:1 The reader will be reminded of the story of Jonah.

The Jataka, Vol. IV: No. 440.: Kaṇha-Jātaka.

The Jataka, Vol. IV, tr. by W.H.D. Rouse, [1901], at

No. 440.


"Behold yon man," etc.—This story the Master told at Kapilavatthu, in the Banyan Park, about smiling.

[7] At that time they say that the Master, wandering afoot with his band of Brethren in the Banyan Park at evening time, at a certain spot gave a smile. Said Elder Ānanda, "What can be the cause, what the reason, that the Blessed One should smile? Not without cause do the Tathāgatas smile. I will ask him, then." So with a gesture of obeisance he asked of this smile. Then the Master said to him, "In days of yore, Ānanda, there was a certain sage, named Kaṇha, who on this spot of earth lived, meditative, in meditation his delight; and by power of his virtue Sakka's abode was shaken." But as this speech about the smile was not quite clear, at the Elder's request he told this story of the past.

p. 5

Once upon a time, when Brahmadatta ruled in Benares, there was a certain childless Brahmin, having wealth to the amount of eighty crores, who took upon him the vows of virtue, and prayed for a son; in the womb of this brahmin's wife was conceived the Bodhisatta, and from his black colour they gave him on his nameday the name of Kaṇha-kumāra, young Blackie. He at the age of sixteen years, being full of splendour, as it were an image of some precious stone, was sent by his father to Takkasilā, where he learnt all the liberal arts, and returned again. Then his father provided a wife meet for him. And by and bye he came in for all his parents' property.

Now one day, after inspecting his treasure houses, as he sat on his gorgeous divan, he took in his hand a golden plate, and reading upon the golden plate these lines inscribed by his kinsmen of former days, "So much of the property gained by such an one, so much by another," thought he, "Those who won this wealth are seen no more, but the wealth is still seen; not one of them could take it where he is gone; we cannot tie our wealth in a bundle and take it with us to the next world. Seeing that it is connected with the Five Sins, to distribute in alms this vain wealth is the better part; seeing that this vain body is connected with much disease, to show honour and kindness to the virtuous is the better part; seeing that this transient and vain life is but transient, to strive after spiritual insight is the better part. Therefore these vain treasures I will distribute in alms, that by so doing I may gain the better part." So he uprose from his seat, and having asked the king's consent, he gave alms bounteously.

Up to the seventh day [8] seeing no diminution in his wealth, he thought, "What is wealth to me? While I am yet unmastered by old age, I will even now take the ascetic vow, I will cultivate the Faculties and the Attainments, I will become destined for Brahma's heaven!" So he caused all the doors of his dwelling to be set open, and bade them take it all as freely given; and spurning it as a thing unclean, he forsook all desire of the eyes, and amid the lamentations and tears of a great multitude, went forth from the city, even unto the Himalaya region. There he embraced the solitary life; and seeking out for a pleasant place to dwell in, he found this place, and there he resolved to dwell; and choosing a gourd tree for his place of feeding, there he did abide, and lived at the root of that tree; lodging never within a village he became a dweller in the woods, never a hut of leaves he made, but abode at the foot of this tree, in the open air, sitting ever, or if he desired to lie, lying upon the ground, not a pestle but only teeth to grind his food with, eating only things uncooked by the fire, and never even a grain in the husk passed his lips, eating once in the day, and at one sitting. On the ground, as though he were one with 1 the four elements, he lived,

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taking upon him the ascetic virtues 1. In that Birth the Bodhisatta, as we learn, had very few wants.

Thus ere long he attained the Faculties and the Attainments, and lived in that spot in the ecstasy of ecstatic meditation. For wild fruits he went no further afield; when fruit grew upon the tree, he ate the fruit; in time of flowers, he ate flowers; when the leaves grew, he ate leaves; when leaves there were none, he ate the bark of trees. Thus in the highest contentment he lived a long time in that place. As in the morning he used to pick up the fruits of that tree, never once even did he from greediness rise up and pick fruit in any other place. In the place where he sat, he stretched out his hand, and gathered all the fruit there was within the handsweep; these he would eat as they came, making no distinction between nice and nasty. As he continued to take pleasure in this, by the power of his virtue the yellowstone throne of Sakka grew hot. (This throne, they say, grows hot when Sakka's life draws towards its end, or when his merit is exhausted and worked out, [9] or when some mighty Being prays, or through the efficacy of virtue in priests or brahmins full of potency 2.)

Then Sakka thought, "Who is it would dislodge me now?" Surveying all around, he saw, living in a forest, in a certain spot, the sage Kanha, picking up fruit, and knew that yonder was the sage of dread austerity, all sense subdued; "To him will I go," thought he, "I will cause him to proclaim the Law in trumpet tones, and having heard the preaching that gives peace, I will satisfy him with a boon, and make his tree bear fruit unceasingly, and then I will return hither." Then by his mighty power quickly descending, and taking his stand at the root of that tree behind the sage, he said, by way of testing whether or no the sage would be angry at mention of his ugliness, the first stanza:

"Behold yon man, all black of hue, that dwells on this black spot,
Black is the meat that he doth eat—my spirit likes him not!"

Swart Kaṇha heard him. "Who is it speaks to me?—" by his divine insight he perceived that it was Sakka; and without turning, replied with the second stanza:

"Though black of hue, a brahmin true at heart, O Sakka, see:
Not by the skin, but if he sin, then black a man must be."

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And then, after this, having explained in their several kinds and blamed the sins which make black such beings, and praised the goodness of virtue, 1 he discoursed to Sakka, and it was as though he made the moon to rise in the sky. Sakka at the hearing of his discourse, charmed and delighted, offered the Great Being a boon, and repeated the third stanza:

"Fair spoken, Brahmin, nobly put, most excellently said:
Choose what you will—as bids your heart, so let your choice be made."

Hearing this the Great Being thought thus within himself. "I know how it must be. He wished to test me, and see should I be wroth at mention of my ugliness; therefore he abused the colour of my skin, my food, my place of dwelling; perceiving that I was not angry, he is pleased, and offers me a boon; no doubt he thinks that I practise this manner of life through a desire for the power of Sakka or of Brahma; and now, to make him certain, I must choose these four boons: that I may be calm, that I may have within me no hatred or malice against my neighbour, and that I may have no greed for my neighbour's glory or lust towards my neighbour." Thus pondering, to resolve the doubt of Sakka, the sage uttered the fourth stanza, claiming these four boons:

"Sakka, the lord of all the world, a choice of blessings gave.
From malice, hatred, covetise, deliverance I would have,
And to be free from every lust: these blessings four I crave."

[11] Hereupon thought Sakka: "The sage Kaṇha, in choosing his boon, has chosen four most blameless blessings. Now I will ask him what is good or bad with these four things." And he asked the question by repeating the fifth stanza:

"In lust, in hatred, covetise, in malice, brahmin, say
What evil thing dost thou behold? this answer me, I pray."

"Hear then," replied the Great Being, and gave utterance to four stanzas:

"Because hatred, of ill-will bred, aye grows from small to great,
Is ever full of bitterness, therefore I want no hate.

"’Tis ever thus with wicked men: first word, then touch we see,
Next fist, then staff, and last of all the swordstroke flashing free:
Where malice is, there follows hate—no malice then for me.

"When men make speed egged on by greed, fraud and deceit arise,
And swift pursuit of savage loot—therefore, no covetise.

"Firm are the fetters bound by lust, that thrives abundantly
Within the heart, for bitter smart—no lusting then for me."

[13] Sakka, his questions thus solved, replied, "Wise Kaṇha, by you sweetly are my questions answered, with a Buddha's skill; well pleased

p. 8

with you am I; now choose another boon" : and he repeated the tenth stanza:

"Fair spoken, brahmin, nobly put, most excellently said:
Choose what you will—as bids your heart, so let your choice be made."

Instantly the Bodhisatta repeated a stanza:

"O Sakka, lord of all the world, a boon thou didst me cry.
Where in the woods I ever dwell, where all alone dwell I,
Grant no disease may mar my peace, or break my ecstasy."

On hearing this, thought Sakka, "Wise Kaṇha, in choosing a boon, chooses no thing connected with food; all he chooses bears upon the ascetic life." Delighted ever more and more, he added thereto yet another boon and recited another stanza:

"Fair spoken, brahmin, nobly put, most excellently said:
Choose what you will—as bids your heart, so let your choice be made."

And the Bodhisatta, in stating of his boon, declared the law in the concluding stanza:


"0 Sakka, lord of all the world, a choice thou bidst declare:
No creature be aught harmed for me, O Sakka, anywhere,
Neither in body nor in mind: this, Sakka, is my prayer 1."

Thus the Great Being, on six occasions making choice of a boon, chose only that which pertained to the life of Renunciation. Well knew he that the body is diseased, and not Sakka can do away the disease of it; not with Sakka lies it to cleanse living beings in the Three Gates 2; albeit so, he made his choice to the end that he might declare the law to him. And Sakka made that tree bear fruit perennially, and saluting him by touching his head with joined hands 3, he said, "Dwell here ever free from disease," and went to his own place. But the Bodhisatta, never breaking his ecstasy, became destined for Brahma's world.

This lesson ended, the Master said, "This, Ānanda, is the place where I dwelt aforetime," and thus identified the Birth: "At that time Anuruddha was Sakka, and for myself, I was Kaṇha the Wise."


5:1 i.e. he had no more feeling than these.

6:1 See Childers, p. 123 a. These thirteen ascetic practices include living under a tree, living alone, living in the forest, sleeping in a sitting posture, mentioned already in the text.

6:2 The following is a curious parallel to this idea about Indra's throne: "The kings had a heritage at that time. When they did not know how to split justice properly, the judgement seat would begin to kick, and the king's neck would take a twist when he did not do justice as he ought." Campbell's Popular Tales of the West Highlands, ii. p. 159.

8:1 These lines occur in Milinda, p. 384.

8:2 Of Body, Speech, Mind: the three gates through which evil enters.

8:3 Reading patiṭṭhāpetvā, and in line 12 vyādhidhammaṁ.

The Jataka, Vol. IV: No. 441.: Catu-Posathika-Jātaka.

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No. 441.


This Birth will be described in the Puṇṇaka Birth 1.

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No. 442.


[15] 2"O learned brahmin," etc.—This story the Master told in Jetavana, about the giving of all the requisites.

At Sāvatthi, it is said, a certain lay brother having heard the Tathāgata's discourse, being pleased at heart, gave an invitation for the morrow; at his door he set up a pavilion, richly dight, and sent to say that it was time. The Master came attended by five hundred Brethren, and sat in the gorgeous seat appointed for him. The layman, having made rich presents to the company of Brethren headed by the Buddha, bade them again for the morrow; and so for seven days he invited them, and offered gifts, and on the seventh gave them all a Brother's requisites. In this presentation he offered a special gift of shoes. The pair of shoes offered to the Buddha were worth a thousand pieces of money, those offered to the two Chief Disciples  3 were worth five hundred, and shoes to the value of an hundred were given to each of the five hundred Brethren who remained. And after this presentation made of all that the Brethren need, he sat down before the Blessed One, along with his company. Then the Master returned thanks in a voice of much sweetness: "Layman, most munificent is thy gift; be joyful. In olden days, ere the Buddha came into the world, there were those who by giving one pair of shoes to a Pacceka Buddha, in consequence of that gift found a refuge on the sea where refuge there is none; and thou hast given to the whole of Buddha's company all that a Brother can need—how can it be, but that thy gift of shoes should prove a refuge to thee?" and at his request, he told a story of the past.

Once upon a time, this Benares was named Molinī. While Brahmadatta reigned in Molinī as king, a certain brahmin Saṅkha, rich, of great wealth, had built almshalls in six places, one at each of the four city gates, one in the midst of it, one by his own door. Daily he gave in alms six hundred thousand pieces of money, and to wayfarers and beggars he did much bounty.

p. 10

One day he thought to himself, "My store of wealth once gone, I shall have nothing to give. Whiles it is still unexhausted I will take ship, and sail for the Gold Country  1, whence I will bring back wealth." So he caused a ship to be built; filled it with merchandise; and said he, as he bade farewell to wife and child, 1 6 "Until I come again, see that you make no stay in distributing of alms." This said, he took up his sunshade, donned his shoes, and with his servants about him, setting his face towards the seaport, at midday he departed.

At that moment, a Pacceka Buddha on Mount Gandha-mādana, meditating, saw him on his way to get wealth, and thought he, "A great man is journeying to get wealth: will there be aught on the sea to hinder him, or no?—There will.—If he sees me he will present me with shoes and sunshade; and in consequence of this gift of shoes, he will find refuge when his vessel is wrecked upon the sea. I will help him." So passing through the air, he alighted not far from the traveller, and moved to meet him, treading the sand hot as a layer of burning embers in the fierce wind and sunshine. "Here," thought the brahmin, "is a chance of gaining merit; here I must sow a seed this day." In high delight he made haste to meet and greet him. "Sir," says he, "be so kind as to come aside from the road awhile, under this tree." Then as the man came in beneath the tree, he brushed up the sand for him, and spread his upper robe, and made him sit down; with water perfumed and purified he washed his feet, anointed him with sweet scented oil; from his own feet he took off the shoes, wiped them clean and anointed them with scented oil, and put them on him, and presented him with shoes and sunshade, bidding him wear the one, and spread the other overhead as he went his ways. The other, to please him, took the gift, and as the brahmin gazed upon him for the increase of his faith, flew up and went on his way again to Gandha-mādana.

The Bodhisatta on his part, glad at heart, proceeded to the harbour, and took ship.

When they were come to the high seas, on the seventh day the ship sprang a leak, and they could not bale the water clear. All the people in fear for their lives made a great outcry, calling each upon his own god 2. 1 The Great Being chose him one servitor, and anointing all his body with oil, ate a mess of powdered sugar with ghee as much as he desired, and giving the man to eat also, he climbed up the mast. "In that direction," said he, "lies our city"; pointing out the direction, and casting off all fear of the fish and turtles, he dived off with the man to a

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distance of more than a hundred and fifty cubits. A multitude of men perished; but the Great Being, with his servant, began to make his way over the sea. For seven days he kept on swimming. Even then he kept the holy fast day, washing his mouth with the salt water.

Now at that time a divinity named Maṇi-mekhalā, which by interpretation is Jewel-zone, had been commanded by the four lords of the world, "If by shipwreck any ill befall men who have gone to the Three Refuges, or are endued with virtue, or who worship their parents, you should save them" ; and to protect any such, the deity took station upon the sea. In her divine power she kept no outlook for seven days, but on the seventh day, scanning the sea, she saw the virtuous brahmin Saṅkha, and thought she, "’Tis now the seventh day since yon man was cast into the sea: were he to die, great would be my blame." So troubled at heart the deity filled a golden plate full of all manner of divine meats, and hastening wind-swift towards him, came to a stop before him in mid-air, saying, "Seven days, brahmin, hast thou taken no food: eat this!" The brahmin looked at her, and replied, "Take thy food away, for I am keeping fast."

His attendant, who came behind, saw not the deity, but heard only the sound; and thought he, "The brahmin babbles, methinks, being of tender frame, and from his seven days' fasting, being in pain and in fear of death: I will comfort him." And he repeated the first stanza:

"O learned brahmin, full of sanctity,
Pupil of many a holy teacher, why
1     All out of reason dost vain babbling use,
When none is here, save me, to make reply?"

The brahmin heard, and knowing that he had not seen the deity, he said, "Good fellow, ’tis no fear of death; but I have another here to converse with me" ; and he repeated the second stanza:

"’Tis a fair radiant presence, gold-besprent,
That offers me food for my nourishment,
    All bravely set upon a plate of gold:
To her I answer No, with heart content."

Then the man repeated the third stanza:

"If such a wondrous being one should see,
A man should ask a blessing hopefully.
    Arise, beseech her, holding up claspt hands:
"Say, art thou human, or a deity?"

[19]"You say well," said the brahmin, and asked his question by repeating the fourth stanza:

"As thou beholdest me in kindly way
And "Take and eat this food" to me dost say,
    I ask thee, lady, excellent in might,
Art thou a goddess, or a woman, pray?"

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Thereupon the deity repeated two stanzas:

"A goddess excellent in might am I;
And to mid-ocean hitherward did hie,
    Full of compassion and in heart well-pleased,
For thy sake come in this extremity.

"Here food, and drink, and place of rest behold,
Vehicles various and manifold;
    Thee, Saṅkha, I make lord of every thing
Which for desirable thy heart may hold."

On hearing this the Great Being thought it over. "Here is this deity (thought he), in the middle of the ocean, offering me this thing and that thing. Why does she wish to offer them to me? Is it for any virtuous act of mine, or by her own power, she does it? Well, I will ask the question." And he asked it in the words of the seventh stanza:

"Of all my sacrifice and offering
Thou art the queen, and thine the governing;
 1     Thou of fair slender waist, thou beauteous-browed:
What deed of mine hath brought to fruit this thing?"

[20] The deity listened to him, thinking, "This brahmin has put his question, I suppose, because he imagines I know not what good deed he has done. I will just tell him." So she told him, in the words of the eighth stanza:

"A solitary, on the burning way,
Weary and footsore, thirsty, thou didst stay,
    O brahmin Saṅkha, for a gift of shoon:
That gift thy Cow of Plenty is this day."

When the Great Being heard this, he thought to himself, "What! in this impracticable ocean the gift of shoes given by me has become a give-all to me! Ah, lucky was my gift to the Pacceka Buddha!" Then, in great contentment, he repeated the ninth stanza:

"A ship of planks well builded let there be,
Sped by fair winds, impervious to the sea;
    No place is here for other vehicle;
This very day take me to Molinī 2."

[21] The deity, well pleased at hearing these words, caused a ship to appear, made of the seven things of price; in length it was eight hundred cubits, in width six hundred cubits, twenty fathoms in depth; it had three masts made of sapphire, cordage of gold, silver sails, and of gold were also the oars and the rudders. This vessel the deity filled with the seven precious things; then embracing the brahmin, set him aboard the gorgeous ship. She did not notice the attendant; howbeit the brahmin

p. 13

gave him a share of his own good fortune; he rejoiced, the deity embraced him also, and set him in the ship. Then she guided the ship to the city of Molinī, and having stored all this wealth in the brahmin's house, returned to her place of dwelling.

The Master, in his Perfect Wisdom, uttered the final stanza:

"She pleased, delighted, with a happy cheer,
A vessel marvellous caused to appear;
    Then, taking Saṅkha with his serving man,
To that most lovely city brought them near."

And the brahmin all his life long dwelt at home, distributing bounty without end, and observing virtue; and at the end of his days he with his man went to swell the host of heaven.

[22] When the Master had made an end of this discourse he declared the Truths:—now at the conclusion of the Truths the layman entered upon the First Path:—and he thus identified the Birth; "At that time Uppalavaṇnā was the deity, Ānanda was the attendant, and I myself was the Brahmin Saṅkha."


9:1 No such title occurs in the collection, nor in Westergaard's Catalogue.

9:2 Misprints on this page should be corrected: line 10 pañcasatagghanakā, 12 parikkhāradānaṁ, 14 anuppanne.

9:3 Sāriputta and Moggallāna.

10:1 Said to be the district of Burmah and Siam, "the Golden Chersonese." See Childers, p. 492.

10:2 Again the reader will be reminded of Jonah (i. 5). Compare also the scene in Erasmus' dialogue Naufragium.

12:1 In line 29 read subbhu suvilākamajjhe: cp. Schol.

12:2 Benares.

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No. 443.


"If one seize," etc.—This story the Master told in Jetavana, about a passionate man. This man, alter having become an ascetic, following the doctrine which leads to salvation with all its blessings, was unable to control his passion: passionate he was, full of resentment; but little said, and he grew angry, flew in a passion, was bitter and obstinate. The Master, hearing of his passionate behaviour, sent for him and asked, was it true that he was passionate, as rumour had it. "Yes, Sir," replied the man. "Brother," the Master said, "passion must be restrained; such an ill-doer has no place either in this world or the next. Why dost thou, after embracing the salvation of the Supreme Buddha, who knows not passion, why dost thou show thyself passionate? Wise men of old, even those who embraced a religion 2 other than ours, have refrained from anger." And he told him an old-world tale.

p. 14

Once upon a time, when Brahmadatta was king of Benares, there was in a certain town of Kāsi a brahmin rich, wealthy, and of great possessions, but he was childless; and his wife longed for a son. At that time the Bodhisatta, descending from Brahma's world, was conceived in the womb of that lady; and on his name-day they gave him the name of Bodhi-kumāra, or Wiseman. When he came of age he repaired to Takkasilā, where he studied all sciences; and after his home-coming, much against his will, his parents found him a damsel to wife from a family of the same caste. She too had descended to this world from the world of Brahma, and was of surpassing beauty, like a nymph. These two were married together, though they neither of them desired it. Never had either done any sin, and in the way of passion neither so much as cast a look at the other; never even in sleep had they done the deed of kind, so pure were they.

Now it happened that after a while, when his parents were dead, and he had decently disposed of their bodies, the Great Being calling his wife, said to her, "Now, lady, you 2 3 take this fortune of eighty crores, and live in happiness."—"Not so, but you, noble Sir." Said he, "Wealth I want none; I shall go to the region of Himalaya, and become a recluse, and there find a refuge."—"Well, noble Sir, is it men only that should live the ascetic life?" "No," said he, "but women also." "Then I will not take that which you spew out of your mouth; for wealth I care no more than you, and I, like you, will live a recluse."

"Very good, lady," said he. And they both distributed a great quantity of alms; and setting forth, in a pleasant spot they made a hermitage. There living upon any wild fruits which they could glean, they dwelt for ten whole years, yet did not attain to holy ecstasy.

And after living there in the happiness of the ascetic life for ten years, they traversed the country side to get salt and seasoning, and in due course came to Benares, where they abode in the royal park.

Now one day the king, espying the park-keeper who came with a present in his hand, said, "We will make merry in our park, therefore set it in order" ; and when the park was cleansed and made ready, he entered it along with a great retinue. At that time these two were also sitting in a certain part of the park, spending their time in the bliss of the religious life. And the king in passing through the park, perceived them both sitting there; and as his eye fell on this amiable and very beautiful lady, he fell in love. Trembling with desire, he determined to ask what she was to the ascetic; so approaching the Bodhisatta, he put the question to him. "Great king," he said, "she is nothing to me; she only shares my ascetic life, but when I lived in the world she was my wife." On hearing this the king thought within him, "So he says she is nothing to him. but in his worldly life she was his wife. Well, if I

p. 15

seize her by my sovereign power what will he do? I will take her, then." And so coming near he repeated the first stanza:


"If one seize the large-eyed lady, and carry her off from you,
The dear one that sits there smiling, brahmin, what would you do?"

In answer to this question, the Great Being repeated the second stanza:

"Once risen, it never would leave me my life long, no, never at all:
As a storm of rain lays the dust again, quench it while yet it be small."

Thus did the Great Being make answer, loud as a lion's roar. But the king, though he heard it, was yet unable for blind folly to master his enamoured heart, and gave orders to one of his suite, "that he should take the lady into the palace." The courtier, obedient, led her away, in spite of her complaints and cries that lawlessness and wrong were the world's way. The Bodhisatta, who heard her cries, looked once but looked no more. So weeping and wailing she was conveyed to the palace.

And the King of Benares made no delay in his park, but quickly returned indoors, and sending for the woman, showed her great honour. And she spoke of the worthlessness of such honour, and the sole worth of the solitary life. The king, finding that by no means could he win her mind over, caused her to be placed in a room apart, and began to think, "Here is an ascetic woman who cares not for all this honour, and yon hermit never cast an angry look even when the man led away so beauteous a dame! Deep are the wiles of anchorites; he will lay a plot doubtless and work me some harm. 2 5 Well, I will return to him, and find out why he sits there." And so unable to keep still, he went into the park.

The Bodhisatta sat stitching his cloak. The king, almost alone, came up without sound of footfall, softly. Without one look at the king, the other went on with his sewing. "This fellow," thought the king, "will not speak to me because he is angry. This ascetic, humbug that he is, first roars out, "I will not let anger arise at all, but if it does, I will crush it while it is small," and then is so obstinate in wrath that he won't speak to me!" With this idea the king repeated the third stanza:

You that were loud in boasting only awhile ago,
Now dumb for very anger there you sit and sew!"

When the Great Being heard this, he perceived that the king thought him silent from anger; and desirous to show that he was not influenced by anger, repeated the fourth stanza:

"Once risen, it never had left me, it never would leave me at all:
As a storm of rain lays the dust again, I quenched it while it was small."

On hearing these words, the king thought, "Is it anger of which he

p. 16

speaks, or some other thing? I will ask him." And he asked the question, repeating the fifth stanza:

"What is it that never has left you your life long, never at all?
As a storm of rain lays the dust again, what quenched you while it was small?"

[26] Said the other, "Great king, thus anger brings much wretchedness, and much ruin; it just began within me, but by cherishing kindly feelings I quenched it," and then he repeated the following stanzas to declare the misery of anger.

"That without which a man sees clearly, with which he goes blindly ahead,
Arose within me, but was not left free—anger, on foolishness fed.

"What causes our foes satisfaction, who wish to bring woes on our head,
Arose within me, but was not left free—anger, on foolishness fed.

"That which if it rises within us blinds all to our spiritual good,
Arose within me, but was not left free—anger, with folly for food.

"That which, supreme, destroys each great blessing,
Which makes its dupes forsake each worthy thing,
    Mighty, destructive, with its swarm of fears,—
Anger—refused to leave me, O great king!

"The fire will rise the higher, if the fuel be stirred and turned;
And because the fire uprises, the fuel itself is burned.

"And thus in the mind of the foolish, the man who cannot discern,
From wrangling arises anger, and with it himself will burn.

"Whose anger grows like fire with fuel and grass that blaze,
As the moon in the dark fortnight, so his honour wanes and decays.

"He who quiets his anger, like a fire that fuel has none,
As the moon in the light fortnight, his honour waxes well grown."

[27] When the king had listened to the Great Being's discourse, he was well pleased, and bade one of his courtiers lead the woman back; and invited the passionless recluse to stay with her in that park, in the enjoyment of their solitary life, and he promised to watch over them and defend them as he ought. Then asking pardon, he politely took leave. And they two dwelt there. By and bye the woman died, and after her death, the man returned to the Himalayas, and cultivating the Faculties and the Attainments, and causing the Excellences to spring up within him, he became destined for Brahma's heaven.

When the Master had ended his discourse, he declared the Truths, and identified the Birth;—(now at the conclusion of the Truths the passionate Brother became established in the fruit of the Third Path:)—"At that time Rāhula's mother was the ascetic lady, Ānanda was the king, and I myself was the ascetic."


13:1 Cf. Ananusociya-jātaka, No. 328, vol. iii. (Sammillabhāsini, which is an epithet in the first stanza here, is a proper name there, p. 64).

13:2 bāhiraāsane is doubtless a misprint for bāhirasāsane.

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No. 444.


"Seven days," etc.—This story the Master told in Jetavana, about a certain backsliding brother. The occasion will be explained under the Kusa Birth 2. When the Master had enquired whether this report was true, and the man answered that it was true, 2 he said, "Brother, wise men in days long gone by, before the Buddha had arisen, even men who had entered upon an unorthodox religious life, for more than fifty years, walking in holiness without caring for it, from the scruples of a sensitive nature never told any one that they had backslidden; and why have you, who have embraced such a religion as ours, that leads to salvation, and who stand in presence of a venerable Buddha such as I am, why have you declared your backsliding before the four kinds of disciples? Why do you not preserve your scruples?" Thus saying, he told an old-world tale.

Once upon a time, in the kingdom of Vamsa, reigned in Kosambī 3 a king named Kosambika. At that time there were two brahmins in a certain town, each possessed of eighty crores, and dear friends one of the other; who, having perceived the mischief which lies in lust, and distributed much goods in almsgiving, both forsook the world, and amid the weeping and wailing of many people, departed to Himalaya, and there built them an hermitage. There for fifty years they lived as ascetics, feeding upon the fruits and roots of the forests where they might chance to glean them; but unto ecstasy they were unable to attain.

After these fifty years had passed by, they went on pilgrimage through the country side to get salt and seasoning, and came to the kingdom of Kāsi. In a certain town of this kingdom lived a householder named Maṇḍavya, who had been a lay friend in householder days of the ascetic Dīpāyana. To this Maṇḍavya came our two friends; who when he saw them, enraptured, built them a hut of leaves, and provided them both with the four necessaries of life. Three or four seasons they dwelt there, and then taking leave of him proceeded on pilgrimage to Benares, where they lived in a cemetery grown over with atimuttaka trees. When Dīpāyana had remained there as long as he wished, he returned to his old comrade again; Maṇḍavya the other ascetic still dwelt in the same place. 4

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Now it happened that one day a robber had committed robbery in the town, and was returning from the fact with a quantity of spoil. The owners of the house, and the watchmen, aroused, set up a cry of "Thief!" and the thief, pursued by these, escaped through the sewer, and as he ran swiftly by the cemetery dropt his bundle at the door of the ascetic's hut of leaves. When the owners saw this bundle, they cried, "Ah, you rascal! 2 you are a robber by night, and in the daytime you go about in the disguise of an ascetic!" So, with reviling and blows, they carried him into the presence of the king.

The king made no enquiry, but only said, "Off with him, impale him upon a stake!" To the cemetery they took him, and lifted him up on a stake of acacia wood; but the stake would not pierce the ascetic's body. Next they brought a nimb stake, but this too would not pierce him: then an iron spike, and no more would that pierce his body. The ascetic wondered what past deed of his could have caused this, and surveyed the past; then there arose in him the knowledge of former existences, and by this as he surveyed the past he saw what he had done long ago; and this it was—the piercing of a fly upon a splinter of ebony.

It is said that in a former existence he had been the son of a carpenter. Once he went to the place where his father was wont to hew trees, and with an ebony splinter pierced a fly as if impaling it. And it was just this sin that found him out when he came to that supreme moment. He perceived that here then was no getting free from sin; so to the king's men he said, "If you wish to impale me, take a stake of ebony wood." This they did, and spitted him upon it, and leaving a guard to watch him they went away.

The watchmen from a place of concealment observed all that came to look upon him. Now Dīpāyana, thinking "It is long since I saw my comrade the ascetic," came to find him; and having heard that he had been hanging a whole day impaled by the roadside, he went up to him, and standing on one side, asked what he had done. "Nothing," quoth he. "Can you guard against ill feeling, or not?" asked the other. "Good friend," said he, "neither against those who have seized me, nor against the king, either, is there any ill feeling in my mind."—"If that is so, the shadow of one so virtuous is delightful to me," and with these words down he sat by the side of the stake. Then upon his body from the body of Maṇḍavya fell gouts of gore; and these as they fell upon the golden skin, and there dried, became black spots upon it; which gave him the name of Kaṇha or Black Dīpāyana from thenceforth. And he sat there all the night.

Next day the watchmen went and told the matter to the king. "I

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have acted rashly," said the king; and with speed he hastened to the spot, 3 and asked Dīpāyana what made him sit by the stake. "Great king," answered he, "I sit here to guard him. But say, what has he done, or what left undone, that you treat him thus?" He explained that the matter had not been investigated. The other replied, "Great king, a king ought to act with circumspection; an idle layman who loves pleasure is not good, etc. 1," and with other such admonitions he discoursed to him.

When the king found that Maṇḍavya was innocent, he ordered the stake to be drawn out. But try as they would, out it would not come. Said Maṇḍavya, "Sire, I have received this dire disgrace for a fault done long ago, and it is impossible to draw the stake from my body. But if you wish to spare my life, bring a saw, and cut it off flush with the skin." So the king had this done; and the part of the stake within his body remained there. For on that previous occasion they say that he took a little piece of diamond, and pierced the fly's duct, so that it did not die then, nor until the proper end of its life; and therefore also the man did not die, they say.

The king saluted these ascetics, and craved pardon; and settling them both in his park, he looked after them there. And from that time Maṇḍavya was called Maṇḍavya with the Peg. And he lived in this place near the king; and Dīpāyana, after healing his friend's wound, went back to his friend Maṇḍavya the householder. When they saw him enter the leaf-hut, they told it to his friend. When he heard it, he was delighted; and with wife and child, taking plenty of scents, garlands, oil, and sugar, and so forth, he came to the leaf hut; greeting Dīpāyana, washing and anointing his feet, and giving him to drink, he sat listening to the tale of Maṇḍavya of the Peg. Then his son, a young man named Yañña-datta, was playing with a ball at the end of the covered walk. There a snake lived in an ant-hill. The lad's ball, thrown upon the ground, ran into the hole of the ant-hill and fell upon the snake. Not knowing this, the lad put his hand into the hole. The snake enraged bit the boy's hand; down he fell in a faint because of the strength of the snake's poison. 1 3 Thereupon his parents, finding their son snake-bitten, lifted him up and took him to the ascetic; laying him at the ascetic's feet, they said, "Sir, religious people know simples and charms; please cure our son."—"I know no simples; I do not ply the physician's trade."—"You are a man of religion. Have pity then, Sir, upon this lad, and do the Act of Truth." "Good," said the ascetic, "an Act of Truth I will do."And laying hands upon the head of Yañña-datta, he recited the first stanza:—

p. 20

"Seven days serene in heart
    Pure I lived, desiring merit:
Since then, for fifty years apart,
    Self-absorbed, I do declare it,
Here, unwillingly, I live:
May this truth a blessing give:
Poison baulked, the lad revive!"

No sooner done this Act of Truth, out from the chest of Yañña-datta the poison came, and sank into the ground. The lad opened his eyes, and with a look at his parents, cried "Mother!" then turned over, and lay still. Then Black Dīpāyana said to the father, "See, I have used my power; now is the time to use yours." He answered, "So will I do an Act of Truth"; and laying a hand upon his son's breast, he repeated the second stanza:

"If for gifts I cared no jot,
    All chance comers entertaining,
2 3 Yet still the good and wise knew not
    I was my true self restraining;
If unwillingly I give,
May this truth a blessing give,
Poison baulked, the lad revive!"

After the doing of this Act of Truth, out from his back came the poison, and sank into the ground. The lad sat up, but could not stand. Then the father said to the mother, "Lady, I have used my power; now it is yours by an Act of Truth to cause your son to arise and walk." Said she, "I too have a Truth to tell, but in your presence I cannot declare it." "Lady," quoth he, "by all and any means make my son whole." She answered, "Very well," and her Act of Truth is given in the third stanza:

"The serpent that bit thee to-day
    In yonder hole, my son,
And this thy father, are, I say,
    In my indifference, one:
May this Truth a blessing give:
Poison baulked, the lad revive!"

[33] No sooner done was this Act of Truth, than all the poison fell and sank into the ground; and Yañña-datta, rising with all his body purged of the poison, began to play. When the son had in this way risen up, Maṇḍavya asked what was in Dīpāyana's mind by the fourth stanza:

"They leave the world who are serene, subdued,
Save Kaṇha, all in no unwilling mood;
What makes thee shrink, Dīpāyana, and why
Unwilling walk the path of sanctity?"

To answer this, the other repeated the fifth stanza:

p. 21

"He leaves the world, and then again turns back;
    "An idiot, a fool!" so might one think:—
      ’Tis this that makes me shrink,
Thus walk I holy, though the wish I lack,
    The cause why I do well, is this—
 1Praised of the wise the good man's dwelling is."

Thus having explained his own thought, he asked Maṇḍavya yet again in the sixth stanza:


"This thy house was like a mere 2,
    Food and drink in store supplying:
Sages, travellers, brahmins here
    Thirst and hunger satisfying.
Didst thou fear some scandal, still
Giving, yet against thy will?"

Then Maṇḍavya explained his thoughts by the seventh stanza:

"Sire and grandsire holy were,
    Lords of gifts most free in giving;
And I followed with all care
    Our ancestral way of living;
Lest degenerate I should be
I gave gifts unwillingly."

After saying this, Maṇḍavya asked his wife a question in the words of the eighth stanza:


"When, a young girl, with undeveloped sense,
    I brought thee from thy home to be my wife,
Thou didst not tell me thy indifference,
    How without love thou livedst all thy life.
Then why, O fair-limbed lady, didst thou stay
And live with me in this unloving way?"

And she replied to him by repeating the ninth. stanza:

"’Tis not the custom in this family
    For wedded wife to take a newer mate,
Nor ever has been; and this custom I
    Would keep, lest I be called degenerate.
T’was fear of such report that bade me stay
And live with thee in this unloving way."

[36] But when this was said, a thought passed through her mind "My secret is told to my husband, the secret never told before! He will be angry with me; I will crave pardon in the presence of this ascetic, our confidant." And to this end she repeated the tenth stanza:

"Now I have spoken what should be unsaid:
For our son's sake may it be pardoned.
    Stronger than parents' love is nothing here;
Our Yañña-datta lives, who was but dead!"

p. 22

"Arise, lady," said Maṇḍavya, "I forgive you. Henceforth do not be hard to me; I will never grieve you." And the Bodhisatta said, addressing Maṇḍavya, "In gathering ill-gotten gains, and in disbelieving that when you give liberally, the deed is a seed that brings fruit, in this you have done wrong. For the future believe in the merit of gifts, and give them. "This the other promised, and in his turn said to the Bodhisatta, "Sir, you have yourself done wrong in accepting our gifts when walking the path of holiness against your will. Now in order that your deeds may bear abundant fruit, do you for the future walk in holiness with a tranquil heart and pure, full of ecstatic joy." Then they took leave of the Great Being and departed.

From that time forward the wife loved her husband; Maṇḍavya with tranquil heart gave gifts with faith; the Bodhisatta, dispelling his unwillingness, cultivated the ecstatic Faculty, and became destined for Brahma's heaven.

This discourse ended, the Master declared the Truths: (now at the conclusion of the Truths the backslider was established in the fruit of the First Path:) and identified the Birth:—"At that time Ānanda was Maṇḍavya, 3 Visākhā the wife, Rāhula the son, Sāriputta was Maṇḍavya of the Peg, and I was myself Black Dīpāyana."


17:1 See Grimblot's Sept Suttas Palies. This story, with the first stanza, is briefly given in the Cariyā-Piṭaka, p 99f.

17:2 No. 531.

17:3 On the Ganges.

17:4 In this confusing tale, Maṇḍavya is the name of one of the ascetics and also of the householder, Dīpāyana is the name of the other ascetic.

19:1 See vol. iii., p. 70.

21:1 Or, Praised of the wise and good religion is.

21:2 The word may possibly mean public-house: either is a "drinking place" (avapāna).

The Jataka, Vol. IV: No. 445.: Nigrodha-Jātaka.

The Jataka, Vol. IV, tr. by W.H.D. Rouse, [1901], at

No. 445.


"Who is the man," etc.—This story the Master told in the Bamboo Grove, about Devadatta. One day the Brethren said to him, "Friend Devadatta, the Master is most helpful to you! From the Master you received your Orders, lesser and greater; you have learnt the Three Baskets, the voice of Buddha; you have caused the Ecstasy to arise within you; the glory and gain of the Dasabala 1 belong to you." At this he held up a blade of grass, with the words, "I can see no good that the ascetic Gotama has done me, not even this much!" They talked it over in the Hall of Truth. When the Master came in, he asked what they talked of as they sat together. They told him. Said he, "Brethren, this is not the first time, but long ago as now Devadatta was ungrateful and treacherous to friends." And he told them a tale of olden days.

p. 23

Once upon a time a great monarch named Magadha reigned in Rājagaha. And a merchant of that city brought home for his son's wife the daughter of some country merchant. But she was barren. In course of time less respect was paid to her for this cause; they all talked, that she might hear, as thus: "While there is a barren wife in our son's household, how can the family line be kept up?" As this talk kept coming to her ears, she said to herself, "Oh, well, I will pretend to be with child, and trick them." So she asked a good old nurse of hers, "What is it that women do when they are with child?" and being instructed what to do for preserving the child 1, concealed the time of her courses; showed a fancy for sour and strange tastes; at the time when the arms and legs begin to swell, she caused them to beat hands and feet and back until they grew swollen; day by day she bandaged her body round with rags and cloths and made it appear greater; blackened the nipples of her breasts; and save that nurse alone, permitted no other to be present at her toilet. Her husband too showed her the attentions proper to her state. After nine months had passed in this fashion, she declared her wish to return home and bring forth her child in her father's house. So taking leave of her husband's parents, she mounted a carriage, 3 and with a large number of attendants left Rājagaha behind her, and proceeded along the road.

Now travelling in front of her was a caravan; and she always came about breakfast time to the place whence that caravan had just gone. And one night, a poor woman in that caravan had borne a son under a banyan tree; and thinking that without the caravan she could not get along, but that if she lived she might receive the child, covered him up 2 as he was, and left him lying there, at the foot of the banyan tree. And the deity of the tree took care of him; he was not any ordinary child, but the Bodhisatta himself had come into the world in that form.

At breakfast time the other travellers arrived at the spot. The woman, with her nurse, going apart to the shade of the banyan tree for her toilet, saw a babe of the colour of gold lying there. By-and bye she called out to the nurse that their object was gained; unwound the bandages from her loins 3; and declared that the babe was her own, and that she had just brought him forth.

The attendants at once raised a tent to seclude her, and in high delight sent a letter back to Rājagaha. Her husband's parents wrote in

p. 24

reply that as the babe was born, there was no longer need for her to go to her father's house; let her return. So to Rājagaha she returned at once. And they acknowledged the babe: and when the babe came to be named, named him after the place where he was born, Nigrodha-Kumāra, or Master Banyan. That same day, the daughter-in-law of a merchant, on her way home to her father for the birth, brought forth a son beneath the branches of a tree; and him they named Sākha-Kumāra, Master Branch. And on the same day, the wife of a tailor in the employ of this merchant bore a son amidst his bits of cloth; and him they called Pottika, or Dollie.

The great merchant sent for these two children, as having been born on Master Banyan's birthday, and brought them up with him.

They all grew up together, and by-and-bye went to Takkasilā to complete their education. Both the merchants' sons had two thousand pieces to give their teacher for a fee; 3 Master Banyan provided Pottika with an education under his own wing.

When their education was finished, they took leave of their teacher, and left him, with intent to learn the customs of the country folk; and travelling on and on, in time they came to Benares, and lay down to rest in a temple. It was then the seventh day since the king of Benares had died. Proclamation was made through the city by beat of drum, that on the morrow the festal car would be prepared. The three comrades were lying under a tree asleep, when at dawn Pottika awoke, and sitting up began to chafe Banyan's feet. Some cocks were roosting upon that tree, and the cock at the top let a dropping fall upon a cock near the bottom 1."What is that fell upon me?" asked this cock. "Do not be angry, Sir," answered the other, "I did not mean to do it." "Oh, so you think my body is a place for your droppings! You don't know my importance, that is plain!" To this said the other, "Oho, still angry, though I declared that I did not mean it! And what is your importance, pray?"—"Whoever kills me and eats my flesh will receive a thousand pieces of money this very morning! Is not that something to be proud of?" "Pooh, pooh," quoth the other, "proud of a little thing like that! Why, if any one kills me and eats of my fat, he will become a king this very morning; he that eats the middle flesh, becomes commander-in-chief; who eats the flesh about the bones, he will be treasurer!"

All this Pottika overheard. "A thousand pieces—"thought he, "What is that? Best to be a king!" So gently climbing the tree, he seized the cock that was roosting atop, and killed it, and cooked it in the embers; the fat he gave to Banyan, the middle flesh to Branch, and himself ate the flesh that was about the bones. When they had eaten, he

p. 25

said, "Banyan, Sir, to-day you will be king; Branch, Sir, you will be commander-in-chief; and as for me, I'm the treasurer!" They asked him how he knew; he told them.

So about the time for the first meal of the day, they entered the city of Benares. At the house of a certain brahmin they received a meal of rice-porridge, with ghee and sugar; and then emerging from the city, 4 they entered the royal park.

Banyan lay down upon a slab of stone, the other two lay beside it. It so happened that at the moment they were just sending forth the ceremonial chariot, with the five symbols of royalty 1 in it. (The details of this will be given in the Mahājanaka Birth 2.) In rolled the car, and stopping, stood ready for them to enter. "Some being of great merit must be present here!" thought the chaplain to himself. He entered the park, and espied the young man; and then removing the cloth from his feet he examined the marks upon them. "Why," said he, "he is destined to be King of all India, let alone Benares!" and he ordered all the gongs and cymbals to strike up.

Banyan awaking threw the cloth from his face, and saw a crowd assembled round him! He turned round and for a moment or two he lay still; then arose, and sat with his legs crossed. The chaplain fell upon one knee, saying, "Divine being, the kingdom is thine!" "So be it," said the youth; the chaplain placed him upon the heap of precious jewels, and sprinkled him to be king.

Thus made king, he gave the post of Commander-in-chief to his friend Branch, and entered the city in great pomp; and Pottika 3 went with them.

From that day onward the Great Being ruled righteously in Benares.

One day the memory of his parents came into his mind; and addressing Branch, he said, "Sir, it is impossible to live without father and mother; take a large company of people, and go fetch them." But Branch refused; "That is not my business," said he. Then he told Pottika to do it. Pottika agreed, and making his way to Banyan's parents, told them that their son had become a king, and begged them to come to him. But they declined, saying that they had power and wealth: enough of that, go they would not. He asked Branch's parents also to come, and they too preferred to stay; and when he invited his own, said they, "We live by tailoring; enough, enough," and refused like the rest.

As he failed to hit off their wishes, he then returned to Benares. Thinking that he would rest from the fatigue of the journey in the house of the Commander-in-chief, before seeing Banyan, he went to that house.

p. 26

[41] "Tell the Commander-in-chief," said he to the door-keeper, "that his comrade Pottika is here." The man did so. But Branch had conceived a grudge against him, because, quoth he, the man had given his comrade Banyan the kingdom instead of himself; so on hearing this message, he waxed angry. "Comrade indeed! who is his comrade? A mad baseborn churl! seize him!" So they beat him and kicked him, and belaboured him with foot, knee and elbow, then clutching him by the throat cast him forth.

"Branch," thought the man, "gained the post of Commander-in-Chief through me, and now he is ungrateful, and malicious, and has beaten me, and cast me forth. But Banyan is a wise man, grateful and good, and to him I will go." So to the king's door he went, and sent a message to the king, that Pottika his comrade was waiting at the door. The king asked him in, and as he saw him approach, rose up from his seat, and went forth to meet him, and greeted him with affection; he caused him to be shaved and cared for, and adorned with all manner of ornaments, then gave him rich meats of every sort to eat; and this done, sat graciously with him, and enquired after his parents, who as the other informed him refused to come.

Now Branch thought to himself, "Pottika will be slandering me in the king's ear, but if I am by, he will not be able to speak"; so he also repaired thither. And Pottika, even in his presence, spoke to the king saying, "My lord, when I was weary with my journey, I went to Branch's house, hoping to rest there first and then to visit you. But Branch said, "I know him not!" and evil entreated me, and haled me forth by the neck! Could you believe it!" and with these words, he uttered three stanzas of verse:

"'Who is the man? I know him not! and the man's father, who?
Who is the man?" so Sākha said:—Nigrodha, what think you?

"Then Sākha's men at Sākha's word dealt buffets on my face,
And seizing me about the throat forth cast me from the place.

"That such a deed in treachery an evil man should do!
An ingrate is a shame, O king—and he your comrade, too!"

[42] On hearing these, Banyan recited four stanzas:

"I know not, nor have ever heard in speech from any one,
Any such ill as this you tell which Sākha now has done.

With me and Sākha you have lived; we both your comrades were;
Of empery among mankind you gave us each a share:
We have by thee got majesty, and not a doubt is there.

"As when a seed in fire is cast, it burns, and cannot grow;
Do a good turn to evil men, it perishes even so.

"The grateful, good, and virtuous, such men are not as they;
In good soil seeds, in good men deeds, are never thrown away."

p. 27

As Banyan was reciting these lines, Branch stood still where he was. Then the king asked him, "Well, Branch, do you recognise this man Pottika?" He was dumb. And the king laid his bidding upon the man in the words of the eighth stanza:

"Seize on this worthless traitor here, whose thoughts so evil be;
Spear him! for I would have him die—his life is nought to me!"

But Pottika, on hearing this, thought within himself—"Let not this fool die for my sake!" and uttered the ninth stanza:


"Great king, have mercy! life once gone is hard to bring again:
My lord forgive, and let him live! I wish the churl no pain."

When the king heard this, he forgave Branch; and he wished to bestow the place of Commander-in-chief upon Pottika, but he would not. Then the king gave him the post of Treasurer, and with it went the judgeship of all the merchant guilds. Before that no such office had existed, but there was this office ever after. And by-and-bye Pottika the Royal Treasurer, being blest with sons and with daughters, uttered the last stanza for their admonition:

"With Nigrodha one should dwell;
To wait on Sākha is not well.
Better with Nigrodha death
Than with Sākha to draw breath."

This discourse ended, the Master said, "So, Brethren, you see that Devadatta was ungrateful before," and then identified the Birth: "At that time, Devadatta was Sākha, Ānanda was Pottika, and I myself was Nigrodha."


22:1 Buddha;"he who possesses the ten powers."

23:1 In vol. ii. page 2 (page 1 of translation, note 4) it is suggested that this may be a magical rite. It may; but the passage here translated supports a simpler meaning. The word in both cases is gabbhaparihāra. Compare p. 124. 14 below (p. 79 of this. book).

23:2 Lit. partum illuviemque puerperii.

23:3 Lumbos illuvie puerperii inquinavit.

24:1 In No. 284 (ii. p. 280 of this translation) the episode of the cocks has come already.

25:1 Sword, parasol, diadem, slippers, fan.

25:2 No. 539, vol. vi. p. 39.

25:3 After this point he is several times called Pottiya.

The Jataka, Vol. IV: No. 446.: Takkaḷa-Jātaka.

The Jataka, Vol. IV, tr. by W.H.D. Rouse, [1901], at

No. 446.


"No bulbs are here," etc.—This story the Master told at Jetavana about a layman who supported his father.

This man we learn was re-born in a needy family. After his mother's death, he used to rise up early in the morning, and prepare the tooth-twigs and water for cleansing the mouth; then by working for hire or ploughing in the fields, he used to procure rice gruel, and thus fed his father in a manner suiting his station in life. Said his father to him, "My son, whatever is to be done indoors and out you do alone. Let me find you a wife, and she shall do the

p. 28

household work for you."—"Father," says he, "if women come into the house they will bring no peace of mind for me or for you. Pray do not dream of such a thing! While you live, I will support you; 4 and when you pass away, I shall know what to do."

But the father sent for a girl, much against his son's wish; and she looked after her husband and his father; but a low creature she was. Now her husband was pleased with her, for attending upon his father; and whatever he could find to please her, that he brought and gave her; and she presented it to her father-in-law. And there came a time when the woman thought, "Whatever my husband gets, he gives to me, but nothing to his father. It is clear that for his father he cares nothing. I must find some way of setting the old man at variance with my husband, and then I shall get him out of the house." So from that time she began to make the water too cold or too hot for him, and the food she salted too much or not at all, and the rice she served up all hard or else soaking wet; and by this kind of thing did all she could to provoke him. Then, when he grew angry, she scolded: "Who can wait on an old creature like this!" said she, and stirred up strife. And all over the ground she would spit, and then stir up her husband—"Look there!" would she say, "that's your father's doing! I am constantly begging him not to do this and that, and he only gets angry. Either your father must leave this house, or I!" Then the husband answered, "Lady, you are young, and you can live where you will; but my father is an old man. If you don't like him, you can leave the house." This frightened her. She fell at the old man's feet, and craved pardon, promising to do so no more; and began to care for him as before.

The worthy layman was so worried at first by her goings-on that he omitted visiting the Master to hear his discourse; but when she had come to herself again, he went. The Master asked why he had not been to hear his preaching this seven or eight days. The man related what had happened. "This time," said the Master, "you refused to listen to her, and to turn out your father; but in former times you did as she bade; you took him to a cemetery, and dug him a pit. At the time when you were about to kill him I was a seven-year-old, and I by recounting the goodness of parents, held you back from parricide. At that time you listened to me; and by tending your father while he lived became destined for paradise. I admonished you then, and warned you not to forsake him when you should come into another life; for this cause you have now refused to do as the woman bade you, and your father has not been killed." Thus saying, at the man's request, he told a story of the past.

Once upon a time, when Brahmadatta was King of Benares, there was in a family of a certain village of Kāsi an only son named Vasiṭṭhaka. 4 5 This man supported his parents, and after his mother's death, he supported his father as has been described in the introduction. But there is this difference. When the woman said, "Look there! that is your father's doing! I am constantly begging him not to do this and that, and he only gets angry!" she went on, "My lord, your father is fierce and violent, for ever picking quarrels. A decrepit old man like that, tormented with disease, is bound to die soon; and I can't live in the same house with him. He will die of himself before many days are out; well, take him to a cemetery, and dig a pit, throw him in and break his head with the spade; and when he is dead, shovel the earth upon him, and leave him there." At last, by dint of this dinning in his ears, said he, "Wife, to kill a man is a serious matter: how can I do it?" "I will tell you of a way," quoth

p. 29

she.—"Say on, then."—"Well, my lord, at break of day, go to the place where your father sleeps; tell him very loud, that all may hear, that a debtor of his is in a certain village, that you went and he would not pay you, and that if he dies the man will never pay at all; and say that you will both drive there together in the morning. Then at the appointed time get up, and put the animals to the cart, and take him in it to the cemetery. When you get there, bury him in a pit, make a noise as if you had been robbed, wound and wash your head, and return." "Yes, that plan will do," said Vasiṭṭhaka. He agreed to her proposal, and got the cart ready for the journey.

Now the man had a son, a lad of seven years, but wise and clever. The lad overheard what his mother said, "My mother, "thought he, "is a wicked woman, and is trying to persuade father to murder his father. I will prevent my father from doing this murder." He ran quickly, and lay down beside his grandsire. Vasiṭṭhaka, at the time suggested by the wife, prepared the cart. "Come, father, let us get that debt!" said he, and placed his father in the cart. But the boy got in first of all. 4 6 Vasiṭṭhaka could not prevent him, so he took him to the cemetery with them. Then, placing his father and his son together in a place apart, with the cart, he got down, took spade and basket, and in a spot where he was hidden from them began to dig a square hole. The boy got down, and followed him, and as though ignorant what was afoot, opened a conversation by repeating the first stanza:

"No bulbs are here, no herbs for cooking meet,
No catmint, nor no other plant to eat.
Then father, why this pit, if need be none,
Delve in Death's acre mid the woods alone?"

Then his father answered by repeating the second stanza:

"Thy grandsire, son, is very weak and old,
Opprest by pain from ailments manifold:
Him will I bury in a pit to-day;
In such a life I could not wish him stay."

Hearing this, the boy answered by repeating a half-stanza:

"Thou hast done sinfully in wishing this,
And for the deed, a cruel deed it is."

With these words, he caught the spade from his father's hands, and at no great distance began to dig another pit.

[47] His father approaching asked why he dug that pit; to whom he made reply by finishing the third stanza:

"I too, when thou art aged, father mine,
Will treat my father as thou treatest thine;
Following the custom of the family
Deep in a pit I too will bury thee."

p. 30

To this the father replied by repeating the fourth stanza:

"What a harsh saying for a boy to say,
And to upbraid a father in this way!
To think that my own son should rail at me,
And to his truest friend unkind should be!"

When the father had thus spoken, the wise lad recited three stanzas, one by way of answer, and two as an holy hymn:

"I am not harsh, my father, nor unkind,
Nay, I regard thee with a friendly mind:
But this thou dost, this act of sin, thy son
Will have no strength to undo again, once done.

"Whoso, Vasiṭṭha, hurts with ill intent
His mother or his father, innocent,
He, when the body is dissolved, shall be
In hell for his next life undoubtedly.

"Whoso with meat and drink, Vasiṭṭha, shall
His mother or his father feed withal,
4 He, when the body is dissolved, shall be
In heaven for his next life undoubtedly."

The father, after hearing his son thus discourse; repeated the eighth stanza:

"Thou art no heartless ingrate, son, I see,
But kindly-hearted, O my son, to me;
Twas in obedience to thy mother's word
I thought to do this horrid deed abhorred."

Said the lad, when he heard this, "Father, women, when a wrong is done and they are not rebuked, again and again commit sin. You must bend my mother, that she may never again do such a deed as this." And he repeated the ninth stanza:

"That wife of yours, that ill-conditioned dame,
My mother, she that brought me forth—that same,
Let us from out our dwelling far expel,
Lest she work other woe on thee as well."

Hearing the words of his wise son, well pleased was Vasiṭṭhaka, and saying, "Let us go, my son!" he seated himself in the cart with son and father.

Now the woman too, this sinner, was happy at heart; for, thought she, this ill-luck is out of the house now. She plastered the place with wet cowdung, and cooked a mess of rice porridge. But as she sat watching the road by which they would return, she espied them coming. "There he is, back with old ill-luck again!" thought she, much in anger. "Fie, good-for-nothing!" cried she, "what, bring back the ill-luck you took away with you!" Vasiṭṭhaka said not a word, but unyoked the cart.

p. 31

[paragraph continues] Then said he, "Wretch, what is that you say?" He gave her a sound drubbing, and bundled her head over heels out of doors, bidding her never darken his door again. Then he bathed his father and his son, and took a bath himself, 4 and the three of them ate the rice porridge. The sinful woman dwelt for a few days in another house.

Then the son said to his father: "Father, for all this my mother does not understand. Now let us try to vex her. You give out that in such and such a village lives a niece of yours, who will attend upon your father and your son and you; so you will go and fetch her. Then take flowers and perfumes, and get into your cart, and ride about the country all day, returning in the evening." And so he did. The women in the neighbour's family told his wife this;—"Have you heard," said they, "that your husband has gone to get another wife in such a place?" "Ah, then I am undone!" quoth she, "and there is no place for me left!" But she would enquire of her son; so quickly she came to him, and fell at his feet, crying—"Save thee I have no other refuge! Henceforward I will tend your father and grandsire as I would tend a beauteous shrine! Give me entrance into this house once more!" "Yes, mother," replied the lad, "if you do no more as you did, I will; be of good cheer!" and at his father's coming he repeated the tenth stanza:

"That wife of yours, that ill-conditioned dame,
My mother, she that brought me forth,—that same,—
Like a tamed elephant, in full control,
Let her return again, that sinful soul."

So said he to his father, and then went and summoned his mother. She, being reconciled to her husband and the husband's father, was thenceforward tamed, and endued with righteousness, and watched over her husband and his father and her son; and these two, stedfastly following their son's advice, gave alms and did good deeds, and became destined to join the hosts of heaven.

[50] The Master, having ended this discourse, declared the Truths: (at the conclusion of the Truths, the dutiful son was established in the fruit of the First Path:) then he identified the Birth:—"At that time, father and son and daughter-in-law were the same as they are now, and the wise boy was I myself."


27:1 This is a variant of a famous story, known as the Housse Partie. See Clouston, Popular Tales and Fictions, "The ungrateful son" (ii. 372); Jacques de Vitry's Exempla (Folk Lore Society, 1890), No. 288, with bibliographical note on p. 260.

The Jataka, Vol. IV: No. 447.: Mahā-Dhamma-Pāla-Jātaka.

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No. 447.


"What custom is it," etc.—This story the Master told, after his first visit (as Buddha) to Kapilapura, while he lodged in his father's Banyan Grove, about the King his father's refusal to believe.

At the time, they say that the great King Suddhodana, having given a meal of rice gruel at his own dwelling to the Buddha at the head of twenty thousand Brethren, during the meal talked pleasantly to him, saying, "Sir, at the time of your striving 2, came some deities to me, and poised in the air, said, "Your son, Prince Siddhattha, has died of starvation." And the Master replied, "Did you believe it, great King?"—"Sir, I did not believe it! Even when the deities came hovering in the air, and told me this, I refused to believe it, saying that there was no death for my son until he had obtained Buddhahood at the foot of the bo-tree." Said the Master, "Great King, long ago in the time of the great Dhammapāla, even when a world-famed teacher said—"Your son is dead, these are his bones," you refused to believe, answering, "In our family, they never die young"; then why should you believe now?" and at his father's request, the Master told a tale of long ago.

Once upon a time, when Brahmadatta was King of Benares, there was in the kingdom of Kāsi a village named Dhammapāla, and it took that name because the family of one Dhammapāla dwelt there. From his keeping the Ten Paths of Virtue this brahmin was known where he dwelt as Dhammapāla, or the Lawkeeper. In his household, even the servitors gave alms, and observed virtue, and kept the holy day.

At that time the Bodhisatta came to life in that household, and to him they gave the name of Dhammapāla-Kumāra, or Lawkeeper the Younger. So soon as he came of age, his father gave him a thousand pieces, and sent him to study at Takkasilā. Thither he went, and studied with a world-famed teacher, and became the chief pupil in a company of five hundred youths.

Just then died the eldest son of the teacher; and the teacher, 1 5 surrounded by his pupils, in the midst of his kith and kin, weeping did the lad's obsequies in the cemetery. Then the teacher with his company of kinsfolk, and all his pupils, were weeping and wailing, but Dhammapāla only neither wept nor wailed. When afterwards the five hundred youths had returned from the cemetery, they sat down in their teacher's presence,

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and said, "Ah, so fine a lad, so good, a tender child, to be cut off in his tender age and parted from father and mother!" Dhammapāla replied, "Tender indeed, as you say! Well, why did he die at a tender age? ’Tis not right that children of tender age should die." Then they said to him, "Why, Sir, do you not know that such persons are but mortal?"—"I know it; but in tender years they die not; people die when they are grown old."—"Then are not all component things transitory and unreal?" "Transitory they are, it is true; but in the days of youth creatures do not die; it is only when they are grown old that they die."—"Oh, is that the custom of your family?"—"Yes, that is the custom in my family." The lads told this conversation to their teacher. He sent for Dhammapāla, and asked him, "Is it true, Dhammapāla, my son, that in your family they do not die young?" "Yes, teacher," said he, "it is true."

On hearing this, the teacher thought, "This is a most marvellous thing he says! I will make a journey to his father, and ask him about it; and if it be true, I will live according to his rule of right."

So when he had finished for his son all that should be done, after lapse of seven or eight days he sent for Dhammapāla, and said, "My son, I am going away from home; while I am away, you are to instruct these my pupils." So saying, 2 5 he procured the bones of a wild goat, washed them and scented them, and put them in a bag; then taking with him a little page-boy, he left Takkasilā, and in course of time arrived at that village. There he enquired his way to Mahā-dhammapāla's house, and stopped at the door.

The first servant of the brahmin who saw him, whoever it was, took the sunshade from his hand, and took his shoes, and took the bag from the servant. He bade them tell the lad's father, here was the teacher of his son Dhammapāla the Younger, standing at the door. "Good," said the servants, and summoned the father to him. Quickly he came to the threshold, and "Come in!" said he, leading the way into his house. Seating the visitor upon a couch, he did a host's duty by washing his feet, and so forth.

When the teacher had eaten food, and they sat down for a kindly talk together, said he, "Brahmin, your son young Dhammapāla, when full of wisdom, and a perfect master of the Three Vedas and the Eighteen Accomplishments, by an unhappy chance has lost his life. All component things are transitory; grieve not for him!" The brahmin clapt his hands, and laughed loudly. "Why do you laugh, brahmin?" asked the other. "Because," said he, "it is not my son who is dead; it must be some other." "No, brahmin," was the answer, "your son is dead, and no other. Look on his bones, and believe." So saying, he unwrapt the bones. "These are your son's bones," said he."A wild goat's bones, perhaps," quoth

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the other, "or a dog's; but my son is not dead. In our family for seven generations no such thing has been, as a death in tender years; and you are speaking falsehood." Then they all clapt their hands, and laughed aloud.

The teacher, when he beheld this wonderful thing, was much pleased, and said, "Brahmin, this custom in your family line cannot be without cause, that the young do not die. Why is it then that you do not die young?" And he asked his question by repeating the first stanza:

"What custom is it, or what holy way,
Of what good deed is this the fruit, I pray?
    Tell me, O Brahmin, what the reason is,
Why in your line the young die never—say!"

[53] Then the brahmin, to explain what virtues had the result that in his family no one died young, repeated the following stanzas:

"We walk in uprightness, we speak no lies,
All foul and wicked sins we keep afar,
We do eschew all things that evil are,
Therefore in youth not one among us dies.

"We hear the deeds of foolish and of wise;
Of what the foolish do no heed we take,
The wise we follow, and the fools forsake;
Therefore in youth not one among us dies.

"In gifts beforehand our contentment lies; 1
Even while giving we are well content;
Nor having given, do we then repent:
Therefore in youth not one among us dies.

"Priests, brahmins, wayfarers we satisfy,
Beggars, and mendicants, and all who need,
We give them drink, and hungry folk we feed:
Therefore the young among us do not die.

"Wedded, for others' wives we do not sigh,
But we are faithful to the marriage vow;
And faithful are our wives to us, I trow:
Therefore the young among us do not die.

"The children that from these true wives are sprung
Are wise abundantly, to learning bred,
Versed in the Vedas, and all perfected;
Therefore none dies of us while he is young.

"Each to do right for sake of heaven tries:
So lives the father, and so lives the mother,
So son and daughter, sister so and brother:
Therefore no one of us when youthful dies.

"For sake of heaven our servants too apply
Their lives to goodness, men and maidens all,
4 5 Retainers, servitors, each meanest thrall:
Therefore the young among us do not die."

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And lastly, by these two stanzas he declared the goodness of those who walk in righteousness:

"Righteousness saves him that thereto is bent; 1
Righteousness practised well brings happiness;
Them that do righteously this boon doth bless—
The righteous comes not into punishment.

[55]"Righteousness saves the righteous, as a shade
Saves in the time of rain: the lad still lives.
Goodness to Dhammapāla safety gives;
Some other's bones are these you have conveyed."

On hearing this, the teacher replied: "A happy journey is this journey of mine, fruitful, not without fruit!" Then full of happiness, he begged pardon of Dhammapāla's father, and added, "I came hither, and brought with me these wild goat's bones, on purpose to try you. Your son is safe and well. I pray you, impart to me your rule of preserving life." Then the other wrote it upon a leaf; and after tarrying in that place some few days, he returned to Takkasilā, and having instructed Dhammapāla in all branches of skill and learning, he dismissed him with a great troop of followers.

When the Master had thus discoursed to the Great King Suddhodana, he declared the Truths, and identified the Birth: (now at the conclusion of the truths the King became established in the fruit of the Third Path:)—"At that time, mother and father were the Mahārāja's kin, the teacher was Sāriputta, the retinue was the Buddha's retinue, and I myself was the younger Dhammapāla."


32:1 Compare Mahāvastu, No. 19. The Dhammapāla in Avadāna Çātaka, p. 122, is different.

32:2 The six years of austerities practised by the Buddha, before he found the peace of Buddhahood.

34:1 This stanza occurs in vol. iii. p. 300 (Pali).

The Jataka, Vol. IV: No. 448.: Kukkuṭa-Jātaka.

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No. 448.


"Trust not in those," etc. This story the Master told in the Bamboo Grove, on the subject of going about to kill. In the Hall of Truth, the Brethren were discussing the evil nature of Devadatta. "Why, Sir, by suborning archers and others to the task, Devadatta is making an attempt to murder the Dasabala!" 5 6 The Master, entering, enquired, "What is this, Brethren, that ye speak of

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as ye sit here together?" They told him. Said he, "’Tis not now the first time that he has tried to murder me, but it was the same before" ; and he told them a story of the past.

Once upon a time there reigned in Kosambī 1 a king named Kosambaka. At that time the Bodhisatta became the offspring of a wild hen that dwelt in a grove of bamboo trees, and afterwards was the chief of a flock of several hundred fowls in the forest. Not far off lived a Falcon, which as he found opportunity caught the fowls one by one and ate them, and in course of time he devoured all the others, and the Bodhisatta was left alone. But he used all caution in seeking his food, and dwelt in a thicket of bamboo. Here the Falcon could not get at him, so he set about thinking by what trick he might entice him to capture.

Then he alighted on a branch hard by, and called out, "Worthy Fowl, what makes you fear me? I am anxious to make friends with you. Now in such a place (naming it) is food in plenty; let us feed there together, and live like friends in company."—"No, good Sir," replied the Bodhisatta, "betwixt you and me no friendship can ever be; so begone!"—"Good Sir, for my former sins you cannot trust me now; but I promise that I will never do so again!"—"No, I care not for such a friend; begone, I say!" Again for the third time the Bodhisatta refused: "With a creature of such qualities," quoth he, "friendship there must never be"; and he made the wide woods resound, the deities applauding as he uttered this discourse:

"Trust not in those whose words are lies, nor those who only know
Self-interest, nor who have sinned, nor who too-pious show.

"Some men have nature like the kine, thirsty and full of greed:
Have words in truth a friend to soothe, but never come to deed.

"These hold out dry and empty hands; the voice conceals their heart;
From those who know not gratitude (vain creatures!) keep apart.

[57] "Put not thy trust in woman or in man of fickle mind,
Nor such as having made a pact to break it are inclined.

"The man who walks in evil ways, to all things threatening death,
Unstedfast, put no trust in him, like keenest sword in sheath.

"Some speak smooth words that come not from the heart, and try to please
With many a show of friendship feigned: put not thy trust in these.

"When such an evil-minded man beholds or food or gain,
He works all ill, and go he will, but first will be thy bane."

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[58] These seven stanzas were repeated by the King of the Fowls. Then were the four stanzas following recited by the King of the Faith, words inspired by a Buddha's insight:

"In friendly show full many a foe follows, his aid to give;
As the Fowl left the Falcon, so ’twere best bad men to leave.

"Who is not quick to recognise the meaning of events,
Under his foes' control he goes, and afterward repents.

"Whoso the meaning of events is quick to recognise,
As from the Falcon's toils the Fowl, so from his foes he flies.

"From such inevitable and treacherous snare,
Deadly, set deep mid many a forest tree,
As from the Falcon far the Fowl did flee,
The man of seeing eye afar should fare."

And he again, after reciting these stanzas, called the Falcon, and reproached him, saying, "If you continue to live in this place, I shall know what to do." The Falcon flew away thence and went to another place.

[59] The Master, having ended this. discourse, said, "Brethren, long ago as now Devadatta tried to compass my destruction," and then he identified the Birth: "At that time, Devadatta was the Falcon, and I was myself the Fowl."


35:1 These four lines occur in the Life of Buddha which is prefixt to the Jātaka, vol. i. p. 31 (Pali), not in the present translation (Rhys Davids, Buddhist Birth Stories, p. 34). Compare also Dhammapada, p. 126; Theragāthā, p. 35.

36:1 A city on the Ganges.

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No. 449.


"Why in the woodland," etc. This story the Master told while sojourning in Jetavana, about a landowner whose son had died. At Sāvatthi, we learn that death took a beloved son of a certain landowner who used to wait upon the Buddha. Afflicted with grief for his son, the man washed not and ate not, and neither went about his own business nor waited upon the Buddha, only cried, "O my beloved son, thou hast left me, and gone before!"

As in the morning time the Master was looking abroad upon the world, he perceived that this man was ripe for attaining the Fruit of the First Path. So next day, having led his followers through the city of Sāvatthi in search of alms, after his meal was done, he sent the Brethren away, and attended by Elder Ānanda walked to the place where this man lived. They told the landowner that the Master had come. Then they of his household prepared a seat, and

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made the Master sit down upon it, and led the landowner into the Master's presence. Him after greeting, as he sat on one side, the Master addressed in a voice tender with compassion: "Do you mourn, lay Brother, for an only son?" He answered, "Yes, Sir." Said the Master, "Long, long ago, lay Brother, wise men who went about afflicted with grief for a son's death, listened to the words of the wise, and clearly discerning that nothing could bring back the lost, yet felt no grief, no not even a little." So saying, at his request the Master told a story of the past.

Once upon a time, when Brahmadatta was reigning in Benares, the son of a very wealthy brahmin, at the age of fifteen or sixteen years, was smitten by a disease, and dying came to being again in the world of the gods. From the time of his son's death, the brahmin would go to the cemetery, and make his moan, walking around the heap of ashes; and leaving undone all his duties, he walked about smitten with woe. A son of the gods, as he went about, saw the father, and devised a plan for consoling his misery. He went to the cemetery at the time of his mourning, taking upon himself the semblance of the man's very son, and adorned with all sorts of ornaments, he stood on one side, holding his head in both hands, 6 and lamenting with a loud voice. The brahmin heard the sound, and looked, and full of the love which he bore his son, stopt before him, saying, "My son, dear lad, why do you stand mourning in the midst of this cemetery?" Which question he put in the words of the following stanza:

"Why in the woodland art thou standing here,
Begarlanded, with earrings in each ear,
    Fragrant of sandal, holding out thy hands?
What sorrow makes thee drop the falling tear?"

And then the youth told his tale by repeating the second stanza:

"Made of fine gold, and shining brilliantly
My chariot is, wherein I use to lie:
    For this a pair of wheels I cannot find;
Therefore I grieve so sore that I must die!"

The brahmin listened, and repeated the third stanza:

"Golden, or set with jewels, any kind,
Brazen or silvern, that thou hast in mind,
    Speak but the word, a chariot shall be made,
And I thereto a pair of wheels will find!"

Now the Master himself, in his perfect wisdom, having heard the stanza repeated by the young man, repeated the first line of another—

"The brahmin youth replied, when he had done";

while the young man repeats the remainder:


"Brothers up yonder are the moon and sun!
    By such a pair of wheels as yonder twain
My golden car new radiance hath won!"

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[paragraph continues] And immediately after:

"Thou art a fool for this that thou hast done,
To pray for that which should be craved by none;
    Methinks, young sir, thou needs must perish soon,
For thou wilt never get or moon or sun!"


"Before our eyes they set and rise, colour and course unfailing:
None sees a ghost: then which is now more foolish in his wailing?"

So said the youth; and the brahmin, comprehending, repeated a stanza:

"Of us two mourners, O most sapient youth,
I am the greater fool—thou sayest truth,
    In craving for a spirit from the dead,
Like a child crying for the moon, in sooth!"

Then the brahmin, consoled by the youth's words, rendered thanks to him by reciting the remaining stanzas:

"Blazing was I, as when a man pours oil upon a fire:
Thou didst bring water, and didst quench the pain of my desire.

[62] "Grief for my son—a cruel shaft was lodged within my heart;
Thou hast consoled me for my grief, and taken out the dart.

"That dart extracted, free from pain, tranquil and calm I keep;
Hearing, O youth, thy words of truth no more I grieve, nor weep 1."

Then said the youth, "I am that son, brahmin, for whom you weep; I have been born in the world of gods. Henceforward grieve not for me, but give alms and observe virtue, and keep the holy fast-day." With this admonition, he departed to his own place. And the brahmin abode by his advice; and after much almsgiving and other good deeds, he died, and was born in the world of gods.

The Master, having ended this discourse, declared the Truths and identified the Birth: (now at the conclusion of the Truths, the landowner was established in the fruit of the First Path:) "At that time, I was myself the son of the gods who uttered this admonition."


37:1 The story is given in Dhammapada, p. 93, where the name is Maddhakuṇḍalī.

39:1 These stanzas recur in iii. 157 (trans. p. 104), 215 (p. 141), 390 (p. 236), Dhammapada, p. 96.

The Jataka, Vol. IV: No. 450.: Biḷāri-Kosiya-Jātaka.

The Jataka, Vol. IV, tr. by W.H.D. Rouse, [1901], at

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No. 450.


"When food is not," etc. This story the Master told, while dwelling at Jetavana, about a Brother who was devoted to giving.

This man, we are told, having heard the preaching of the Law, from the time when he embraced the Doctrine was devoted to giving, eager for giving. Never a bowl-full he ate unless he shared it with another; even water he would not drink, unless he gave of it to another: so absorbed was he in giving.

Then they began to talk of his good qualities in the Hall of Truth. Entered the Master, and asked what they talked of as they sat there. They told him. Sending for the Brother, he asked him, "Is it true, what I hear, Brother, that you are devoted to giving, eager to give?" He replied, "Yes, Sir." Said the Master, "Long ago, Brethren, this man was without faith and unbelieving; not so much as a drop of oil on the end of a blade of grass did he give to any one; then I humbled him, and converted him and made him humble, and taught him the fruit of giving; and this gift-lief heart of his does not leave him even in another life. "So saying, he told a story of the past 1.

Once upon a time, when Brahmadatta was reigning in Benares, the Bodhisatta was born in a rich man's family; and coming of age, he acquired a property, and at his father's death received his father's station as merchant.

One day, as he reviewed his wealth, thought he, "My wealth is here, sure enough, 3 6 but where are those who gathered it? I must disperse my wealth, and give alms. "So he built an almonry, and while he lived distributed much alms; and when his days were drawing to a close, charging his son not to discontinue the practice of almsgiving, he was born again as Sakka in the Heaven of the Thirty-three. And the son gave alms as his father had given, and with the like charge to his son, was born as Canda, the Moon, among the gods. And his son became Suriya, the Sun, who begat another that became Mātali the Charioteer 2, and his son was born again as Pañcasikha, one of the Gandhabbas, or celestial musicians. But the sixth of the line was without faith, hardhearted, loveless, niggardly; and he demolished the almonry, burnt it, beat the beggars and sent them about their business; gave no one so much as an oildrop on the end of a blade of grass.

Then Sakka, king of the gods, looked back over his doings in the past, wondering, "Does my tradition of almsgiving continue or no?" Pondering he perceived this: "My son continued the giving, and he is become Canda; and his son is Suriya, and his son is Mātali, and his son has

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been born as Pañcasikha; but the sixth in line has broken the tradition." Then this thought occurred to him; he would go humble that man of sin, and teach him the fruit of giving. So he summoned to him Canda, Suriya, Mātali, Pañcasikha, and said, "Sirs, the sixth in our line has broken our family tradition; he has burnt the almonry, the beggars he has driven away; he gives nothing to any one. Then let us humble him!" So with them he proceeded to Benares.

At that moment the merchant had been to wait upon the king, and having returned, was walking to and fro under the seventh gate-tower 1, looking along the road. Sakka said to the others, "Do you wait until I go in, and then follow one after another." With these words he went forward, and standing before the rich merchant, said to him, "Ho, Sir! give me to eat!"—"There is nothing to eat for you here, brahmin; go elsewhere."—"Ho, great Sir! when brahmins ask for food, 4 6 it must not be refused them!"—"In my house, brahmin, is neither food cooked nor food ready for cooking; away with you!"—"Great Sir, I will repeat to you a verse of poetry,—listen." Said he, "I want none of your poetry; get you gone, and do not keep standing here." But Sakka, without attending to his words, recited two stanzas:

"When food is not within the pot, the good would get, and not deny:
And thou art cooking! ’twere not good, if thou wouldst now no food supply

"He who remiss and niggard is, ever to give denies;
But he who virtue loves, must give, and he whose mind is wise."

When the man had heard this, he answered, "Well, come in and sit down; and you shall have a little." Sakka entered, repeating these verses, and sat down.

Next came Canda up, and asked for food. "There's no food for you," said the man, "go away!" He replied, "Great Sir, there is one brahmin seated within; there must be a free meal for a brahmin, I suppose, so I will enter too." "There is no free meal for a brahmin!" said the man; "be off with you!" Then Canda said, "Great Sir, please do listen to a verse or two," and repeated two stanzas: (whenever a terrified niggard gives to none, that very thing that he fears comes to him as he gives not 2:)—

"When fear of hunger or of thirst makes niggard souls afraid,
In this world and the next those fools shall fully be repaid.

"Therefore give alms, flee covetise, purge filth of greed away,
In the next world men's virtuous deeds shall be their surest stay."

[65] Having listened to these words also, the man said, "Well, come in, and you shall have a little." In he came, and took a seat with Sakka.

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[paragraph continues] After waiting a little while, Suriya came up, and asked for food by repeating two stanzas:

"’Tis hard to do as good men do, to give as they can give,
Bad men can hardly imitate the life that good men live.

"And so, when good and evil go to pass away from earth,
The bad are born in hell below, in heaven the good have birth 1."

The rich man, not seeing any way out of it, said to him, "Well, come in and sit down with these brahmins, and you shall have a little." And Mātali, after waiting a little while, came up and asked for food; and when he was told there was no food, as soon as the words were spoken, repeated the seventh stanza:

"Some give from little, some give not though they have plenteous store:
Who gives from little, if he gave a thousand, twere no more."

[66] To him also the man said, "Well, come in and sit down." Then after waiting a little while, Pañcasikha came up and asked for food. "There's none, go away," was the reply. Said he, "What a number of places I have visited! There must be a free meal for brahmins here, methinks!" And he began to hold forth to him, repeating the eighth stanza:

"Even he who lives on scraps should righteous be,
Giving from little store, though sons have he;
    The hundred thousand which the wealthy give,
Are worth not one small gift from such as he."

The rich man pondered, on hearing the speech of Pañcasikha. Then he repeated the ninth stanza, to ask an explanation of the little worth of such gifts:

"Why is a rich and generous sacrifice
Not equal to a righteous gift in price,
How is a thousand, which the wealthy gives,
Not worth a poor man's gift, tho’ small in size?"

[67] In reply, Pañcasikha recited the concluding stanza:

    "Some who in evil ways do live
    Oppress, and slay, then comfort give:
    Their cruel sour-faced gifts are less
    Than any given with righteousness.
Thus not a thousand from the wealthy can
Equal the little gift of such a man."

Having listened to the admonition of Pañcasikha, he replied, "Well, go indoors and be seated; you shall have a little." And he too entered, and sat with the rest.

Then the rich merchant Biḷārikosiya, beckoning to a maidservant, said to her, "Give yonder Brahmins a measure apiece of rice in the husk."

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[paragraph continues] She brought the rice, and approaching them, bade them bake it, and get it cooked somewhere, and eat. "We never touch rice in the husk," said they.—"Master, they say that they never touch rice in the husk!"—"Well, give them husked rice." She brought them husked rice, and bade them take it. Said they, "We accept nothing that is uncooked." "Master, they accept nothing that is uncooked!"—"Then cook them some cows' food in a pot, and give them that." She cooked in a pot a mess of cows' food, and brought it to them. All the five of them took up each a mouthful, and put it into their mouths, but let it stick in the throat; then rolling their eyes, they became unconscious, and lay as though dead. The serving-maid seeing this thought they must be dead, and much afraid went and told the merchant, saying, "Master, those brahmins could not swallow the cows' food, 6 and they are dead!" Thought he, "Now people will upbraid me, saying, This lewd fellow gave a mess of cows' food to delicate brahmins, which they could not swallow, and they died!" Then he said to the maid, "Go quickly, take away the food from their bowls, and cook them a mess of all sorts of the finest rice." She did so. The merchant fetched in the passers-by from the road within, and when he had gathered a number of them together he said, "I gave these brahmins food after my own manner of eating, and they were greedy and made great lumps, and so as they ate, the food stuck in the throat, and they are dead. I call you to witness that I am guiltless." Before the crowd thus gathered together the brahmins arose, and said, looking upon the multitude, "Behold the deceitfulness of this merchant! He gave us of his own food, quoth he! A mess of cow's food is all he gave us at first, and then while we lay as dead, he caused this food to be prepared." And they cast forth from their mouths the food which they had taken, and showed it. The crowd upbraided the merchant, crying, "Blind fool! you have broken the custom of your family; you have burnt the alms-hall; the beggars you have taken by the throat and cast forth; and now when you were giving food to these delicate brahmins, all you gave was a mess of cows' food! As you go to the other world, I suppose you will carry the wealth of your house fast about your neck!"

At this moment, Sakka asked the crowd, "Do you know whose is the wealth of this house?" "We know not," they replied. Said he, "You have heard tell of a great merchant of Benares, who lived in this city once upon a time, and built halls of almonry, and in charity gave much?" "Yes," said they," "we have heard of him." "I am that merchant," he said, "and by those gifts I am now become Sakka, king of the gods; and my son, who did not break my tradition, has become a god, Canda; and his son is Suriya, and his son is Mātali, and his son is Pañcasikha; of these, yonder is Canda, and that is Suriya, and this is Mātali the charioteer, and this again 6 is Pañcasikha, now a heavenly musician, once father of

p. 44

yonder lewd fellow! Thus potent is giving of gifts; therefore wise men ought to do virtuously." Thus speaking, with a view to dispelling the doubts of the people there assembled, they rose up in the air, and remained poised, by their mighty power surrounding themselves with a great host, their bodies all ablaze, so that the whole city seemed to be on fire. Then Sakka addressed the crowd: "We left our heavenly glory in coming hither, and we came on account of this sinner Biḷārikosiya, this last of his race, the devourer of all his race. In pity for him are we come, because we knew that this sinner had broken the tradition of his family, and burnt the almonry, and haled forth the beggars by the throat, and had violated our custom, and that by ceasing to give alms he would be born again in hell." Thus did he discourse to the crowd, telling the potency of almsgiving. Biḷārikosiya put his hands together in supplication, and made a vow; "My lord, from this time forth I will no more break the family custom, but I will distribute alms; and beginning from this very day, I will never eat, without sharing with another my own supplies, even the water I drink and the tooth-cleaner which I use."

Sakka having thus humbled him, and made him self-denying, and established him in the Five Virtues, went away to his own place, taking the four gods with him. And the merchant gave alms as long as he lived, and was born in the heaven of the Thirty-Three.

The Master, having finished this discourse, said, "Thus, Brethren, this Brother in former times was unbelieving, and never gave jot or tittle to any one, but I humbled him, and taught him the fruit of almsgiving; and that mind leaves him not, even when he enters another life." Then he identified the Birth: "At that time, the generous Brother was the rich man, Sāriputta was Canda, Moggallāna was Suriya, Kassapa was Mātali, Ānanda was Pañcasikha, and I myself was Sakka."


40:1 Part of this tale occurs in No. 313, vol. iii.

40:2 i.e. of Sakka, or Indra.

41:1 Cf. Hardy's Manual, p. 270.

41:2 This seems to be a gloss.

42:1 These stanzas occur in ii. p. 86 (p. 59 of the English translation).

The Jataka, Vol. IV: No. 451.: Cakka-Vāka-Jātaka.

The Jataka, Vol. IV, tr. by W.H.D. Rouse, [1901], at

No. 451.


[70]"Fine-coloured art thou," etc.—This story the Master told while dwelling in Jetavana, about a greedy Brother. This man, it is said, dissatisfied with his mendicant's garb and so forth, used to march about asking, "Where is there a meal for the Order? where is there an invitation?" and when he heard mention

p. 45

of meat, he showed great delight. Then some well-meaning Brethren, from kindness towards him, told the Master about it. The Master summoning him, asked, "Is it true, Brother, as I hear, that you are greedy?" "Yes, my lord, it is true," said he. "Brother," said the Master, "why are you greedy, after embracing a faith like ours, that leads to salvation? The state of greed is sinful; long ago, by reason of greed, you were not satisfied with the dead bodies of elephants and other offal in Benares, and went away into the mighty forest." So saying, he told a story of the past.

Once upon a time, when Brahmadatta was king of Benares, a greedy Crow was not content with the corpses of elephants in Benares, and all the other offal. "Now I wonder," thought he, "what the forests may be like?" So to the forest he went; but neither was he satisfied with the wild fruits that he found there, and proceeded to the Ganges. As he passed along the bank of the Ganges, spying a pair of Ruddy Geese 1, he thought, "Yonder birds are very beautiful; I suppose they find plenty of meat to eat on this Ganges bank. I will question them, and if I too can eat their food doubtless I shall have a fine colour like them." So perching not far from the pair, he put his question to the Ruddy Goose by reciting two stanzas:

"Fine-coloured art thou, fair of form, all plump in body, red of hue,
O Goose! I swear thou art most fair, thy face and senses clear and true!

"A-sitting on the Ganges' bank thou feedest on the pike and bream,
Roach, carp, and all the other fish that swim along the Ganges' stream 2!"

The Red Goose contradicted him by reciting the third stanza:


"No bodies from the tide I eat, nor lying in the wood:
All kinds of weed—on them I feed; that, friend, is all my food."

Then the Crow recited two stanzas:

"I cannot credit what the Goose avers about his meat.
Things in the village soused with salt and oil are what I eat,

"A mess of rice, all clean and nice, which a man makes and pours
Upon his meat; but yet, my colour, Goose, is not like yours."

Thereupon the Ruddy Goose recited to him the remaining stanzas showing forth the reason of his ugly colour, and declaring righteousness:

"Beholding sin your heart within, destroying humankind,
In fear and fright your food you eat; therefore this hue you find.

"Crow, you have erred in all the world by sins of former lives,
You have no pleasure in your food; ’tis this your colour gives.

"But, friend, I eat and do no hurt, not anxious, at my ease,
Having no trouble, fearing nought from any enemies.

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"Thus you should do, and mighty grow, renounce your evil ways,
Walk in the world and do no hurt; then all will love and praise.

"Who to all creatures kindly is, nor wounds nor makes to wound,
Who harries not, none harry him, gainst him no hate is found."

[72] "Therefore if you wish to be beloved by the world, abstain from all evil passions;" so said the Ruddy Goose, declaring righteousness. The Crow replied, "Don't prate to me of your manner of feeding!" and crying "Caw! Caw!" flew away through the air to the dunghill of Benares.

When the Master had ended this discourse, he declared the Truths: (now at the conclusion of the Truths, the greedy Brother was established in the fruit of the Third Path): "At that time, the greedy Brother was the Crow, Rāhula's mother was the mate of the Ruddy Goose, and I was the Ruddy Goose myself."


44:1 Cf. No. 434, vol. iii.

45:1 cakkavāko, Anas Casarca.

45:2 The fish named are: pāvusa, vālaja, muñja, rohita (Cyprinus Rohita), and pāṭhīna (Silvans Boalis).

The Jataka, Vol. IV: No. 452.: Bhūri-Pañha-Jātaka.

The Jataka, Vol. IV, tr. by W.H.D. Rouse, [1901], at

No. 452.


"Is’t true, indeed," etc.—This Bhūri-pañha Birth will appear in the Ummagga Birth 1.

The Jataka, Vol. IV: No. 453.: Mahā-Maṅgala-Jātaka.

The Jataka, Vol. IV, tr. by W.H.D. Rouse, [1901], at

No. 453.


"Declare the truth," etc. This story the Master told while dwelling in Jetavana, about the Mahā-maṅgala Scripture, or the Treatise on Omens 2. At the city of Rājagaha for some cause or another a great company had gathered in the royal resting-house, and among these was a man who got up, and went out, with the words, "This is a day of good omen." Some one else heard it, and said, "Yon fellow has gone out talking of "omens"; what does he mean by omen?" Said a third, "The sight of anything with a lucky look is a good omen; suppose a man

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rise betimes and see a perfectly white bull, or a woman with child, or a red fish 1, or a jar filled to the brim, or new-melted ghee of cow's-milk, or a new unwashen garment, or rice porridge, there is no omen better than these." Some of the bystanders commended this explanation; "Well put," said they. But another 3 broke in, "No, there's no omen in those; what you hear is the omen. A man hears people saying "Full," then he hears "Full-grown" or "Growing," or he hears them say "Eat" or "Chew": there's no omen better than these." Some bystanders said, "Well put," and commended this explanation. Another said, "There's no omen in all that; what you touch 2 is the omen. If a man gets up early, and touches the earth, or touches green grass, fresh cow-dung, a clean robe, a red fish, gold or silver, food, there's no better omen than these." And here too some of the bystanders approved, and said it was well put. And then the partisans of omens of sight, omens of sound, omens of touch formed into three groups, and were unable to convince one another. From the deities of the earth to Brahma's heaven none could say exactly what an omen was. Sakka thought, "Among gods and men no one but the Blessed One is able to solve this question of the omens. To the Blessed One I will go, and put the question to him." So at night he paid a visit to the Blessed One, and greeted him, and placing his hands together in supplication, he put the question beginning, "Many gods and men there be." Then the Master in twelve stanzas told him the eight-and-thirty great omens. And as he repeated the omen-scriptures one after another, gods to the number of ten thousand millions attained to sainthood, and of those who entered the other three Paths there is no counting. When Sakka had heard the omens he returned to his own place. When the Master had told the omens, the world of men and the world of gods approved, and said, "Well put."

Then in the Hall of Truth they began to discuss the virtues of the Tathāgata: "Sirs, the Omen Problem was beyond the scope of others, but he comprehended the hearts of men and of gods, and solved their doubt, as if he were making the moon rise in the sky! Ah, very wise is the Tathāgata, my friends!" The Master entering asked what they were talking of, as they sat there. They told him. Said he, "It is no marvel, Brethren, that I solved the problem of the omens now that I am possessed of perfect wisdom; but even when I walked on earth as Bodhisatta, I solved the doubts of men and of gods, by answering the Omen Problem." So saying, he told a story of the past.

[74] Once upon a time the Bodhisatta was born in a certain town in the family of a wealthy brahmin, and they named him Rakkhita-Kumāra. When he grew up, and had completed his education at Takkasilā, he married a wife, and on his parents' demise, he made enquiry into his treasures; then being much exercised in mind, he distributed alms, and mastering his passions became a hermit in the regions of Himalaya, where he developed supernatural powers, and dwelt in a certain spot, nourishing himself upon the roots and fruits of the forest. In course of time his followers became a great number, five hundred disciples that lived with him.

One day, these ascetics, approaching the Bodhisatta, thus addressed him: "Teacher, when the rainy season comes, let us go down from Himalaya, and traverse the country side to get salt and seasoning; thus

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our bodies will become strong, and we shall have performed our pilgrimage." "Well, you may go," said he, "but I will abide where I am." So they took leave of him, and went down from Himalaya, and proceeded on their rounds till they came to Benares, where they took up their dwelling in the king's park. And much honour and hospitality was shown to them.

Now one day there was a great crowd come together in the royal rest-house at Benares, and the Omen Problem was discussed. All must be understood to happen as in the introduction to this story. Then, as before, the crowd saw no one who could allay the doubts of men and solve the problem of the omens; so they repaired to the park, and put their problem to the body of sages. The sages addressed the king, saying, "Great King, we cannot solve this question, but our Teacher, the hermit Rakkhita, a most wise man, dwells in Himalaya; he will solve the question, for he comprehends the thoughts of men and of gods." Said the king, "Himalaya, good sirs, is far, and hard to come at; we cannot go thither. Will you not go yourselves to your Teacher, and ask him the question, and when you have learnt it, return and tell it to us?" This they promised to do; and when they had returned to their Teacher, and greeted him, and he had asked of the king's well-being and the practices of the country folk, they told him all the story of the omens of sight and so forth, from beginning to end, 5 and explained how they came on the king's errand, to hear the answer to the question with their own ears; "Now, Sir," said they, "be pleased to make clear this Omen Problem to us, and tell us the truth." Then the eldest disciple asked his question of the Teacher by reciting the first stanza:

"Declare the truth to mortal man perplext,
And tell what scripture, or what holy text,
    Studied and said at the auspicious hour,
Gives blessing in this world and in the next?"

When the eldest disciple had put the omen problem in these words, the Great Being, allaying the doubts of gods and men, answered, "This and this is an omen," and thus describing the omens with a Buddha's skill, said,

"Whoso the gods, and all that fathers 1 be,
And reptiles, and all beings, which we see,
    Honours for ever with a kindly heart,
Surely a Blessing to all creatures he."

[76] Thus did the Great Being declare the first omen, and then proceeded to declare the second, and all the rest:

"Who shows to all the world a modest cheer,
To men and women, sons and daughters dear,
    Who to reviling answers not in kind,
Surely a blessing he to every fere.

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"Who clear of intellect, in crisis wise,
Nor playmates nor companions does despise,
    Nor boasts of birth or wisdom, caste, or wealth,
Among his mates a blessing doth arise.

"Who takes good men and true his friends to be,
That trust him, for his tongue from venom free,
    Who never harms a friend, who shares his wealth,
Surely a blessing among friends is he.

"Whose wife is friendly, and of equal years,
Devoted, good, and many children bears,
    Faithful and virtuous and of gentle birth,
That is the blessing that in wives appears.

"Whose King the mighty Lord of Beings is,
That knows pure living and all potencies,
    And says, "He is my friend," and means no guile
That is the blessing that in monarchs lies.

"The true believer, giving drink and food,
Flowers and garlands, perfumes, ever good,
    With heart at peace, and spreading joy around—
This in all heavens brings beatitude.

"Whom by good living virtuous sages try
With effort strenuous to purify,
[77]     Good men and wise, by tranquil life built up,
A blessing he mid saintly company."

[78] Thus the Great Being brought his discourse to a topstone in sainthood; and having in eight stanzas explained the Omens, in praise of those same Omens recited the last stanza:

"These blessings then, that in the world befall,
Esteemed by all the wise, magnifical,
    What man is prudent let him follow these,
For in the omens is no truth at all."

The sages, having heard about these Omens, stayed for seven or eight days, and then took leave and departed to that same place.

The king visited them and asked his question. They explained the Problem of the Omens in the same way as it had been told to them, and went back to Himalaya. Thenceforward the matter of omens was understood in the world. And having attended to the matter of omens, as they died they went each to swell the hosts of heaven. The Bodhisatta cultivated the Excellences, and along with his band of followers was born in Brahma's heaven.

The Master having ended this discourse, said: "Not now alone, Brethren, but in olden days I explained the Problem of the Omens"; and then he identified the Birth—"At that time, the company of Buddha's followers were the band of sages; [79] Sāriputta was the senior of the pupils, who asked the question about omens; and I myself was the Teacher."


46:1 No. 546.

46:2 See the Sutta-nipāta, ii. 4.

47:1 Cyprinus Rohita.

47:2 Mutaṁ must be here a corrupt form of Skt. mṛṣṭaṁ "touched."

48:1 "Brahmins of the world of Form and of No-form." Schol.

The Jataka, Vol. IV: No. 454.: Ghata-Jātaka.

The Jataka, Vol. IV, tr. by W.H.D. Rouse, [1901], at

p. 50

No. 454.


"Black Kaṇha, rise," etc. This story the Master told in Jetavana about a son's death. The circumstances are like those in the Maṭṭha-Kuṇḍali Birth 2. Here again the Master asked the lay brother, "Are you in grief, layman?" He replied, "Yes, Sir." "Layman," said the Master, "long ago wise men listened to the bidding of the wise, and did not grieve for the death of a son." And at his request, he told a story of the past.

Once upon a time, a king named Mahākaṃsa reigned in Uttarāpatha, in the Kaṃsa district, in the city of Asitañjanā. He had two sons, Kaṃsa and Upakaṃsa, and one daughter named Devagabbhā. On her birthday the brahmins who foretold the future said of her: "A son born of this girl will one day destroy the country and the lineage of Kaṃsa." The king was too fond of the girl to put her to death; but leaving her brothers to settle it, lived his days out, and then died. When he died Kaṃsa became king, and Upakaṃsa was viceroy. They thought that there would be an outcry were they to put their sister to death, so resolved to give her in marriage to none, but to keep her husbandless, and watch; and they built a single round-tower, for her to live in.

Now she had a serving-woman named Nandagopā, and the woman's husband, Andhakaveṇhu, was the servant who watched her. At that time a king named Mahāsāgara reigned in Upper Madhurā, and he had two sons, Sāgara and Upasāgara. At their father's death, Sāgara became king, and Upasāgara was viceroy. This lad was Upakaṃsa's friend, brought up together with him and trained by the same teacher. But he intrigued in his brother's zenana, and being detected, ran away to Upakaṃsa in the Kaṃsa estate. Upakaṃsa introduced him to king Kaṃsa, [80] and the king had him in great honour.

Upasāgara while waiting upon the king observed the tower where dwelt Devagabbhā; and on asking who lived there, heard the story, and fell in love with the girl. And Devagabbhā one day saw him as he went with Upakaṃsa to wait upon the king. She asked who that was; and being told by Nandagopā that it was Upasāgara, son of the great king Sāgara, she too fell in love with him. Upasāgara gave a present to Nandagopā, saying, "Sister, you can arrange a meeting for me with Devagabbhā." "Easy enough," quoth Nandagopā, and told the girl about it. She being

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already in love with him, agreed at once. One night Nandagopā arranged a tryst, and brought Upasāgara up into the tower; and there he stayed with Devagabbhā. And by their constant intercourse, Devagabbhā conceived. By and bye it became known that she was with child, and the brothers questioned Nandagopā. She made them promise her pardon, and then told the ins and outs of the matter. When they heard the story, they thought, "We cannot put our sister to death. If she bears a daughter, we will spare the babe also; if a son, we will kill him." And they gave Devagabbhā to Upasāgara to wife.

When her full time came to be delivered, she brought forth a daughter. The brothers on hearing this were delighted, and gave her the name of the Lady Añjanā. And they allotted to them a village for their estate, named Govaḍḍhamāna. Upasāgara took Devagabbhā and lived with her at the village of Govaḍḍhamāna.

Devagabbhā was again with child, and that very day Nandagopā conceived also. When their time was come, they brought forth on the same day, Devagabbhā a son and Nandagopā a daughter. But Devagabbhā, in fear that her son might be put to death, sent him secretly to Nandagopā, and received Nandagopā's daughter in return. They told the brothers of the birth. "Son or daughter?" they asked. 1 "Daughter," was the reply. "Then see that it is reared," said the brothers. In the same way Devagabbhā bore ten sons, and Nandagopā ten daughters. The sons lived with Nandagopā and the daughters with Devagabbhā, and not a soul knew the secret.

The eldest son of Devagabbhā was named Vāsu-deva, the second Baladeva, the third Canda-deva, the fourth Suriya-deva, the fifth Aggi-deva, the sixth Varuṇa-deva, the seventh Ajjuna, the eighth Pajjuna, the ninth Ghata-paṇḍita, the tenth Aṁkura 1. They were well known as the sons of Andhakaveṇhu the servitor, the Ten Slave-Brethren.

In course of time they grew big, and being very strong, and withal fierce and ferocious, they went about plundering, they even went so far as to plunder a present being conveyed to the king. The people came crowding in the king's court yard, complaining, "Andhakaveṇhu's sons, the Ten Brethren, are plundering the land!" So the king summoned Andhakaveṇhu, and rebuked him for permitting his sons to plunder. In the same way complaint was made three or four times, and the king threatened him. He being in fear of his life craved the boon of safety from the king, and told the secret, that how these were no sons of his, but of

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[paragraph continues] Upasāgara. The king was alarmed. "How can we get hold of them?" he asked his courtiers. They replied, "Sire, they are wrestlers. Let us hold a wrestling match in the city, and when they enter the ring we will catch them and put them to death." So they sent for two wrestlers, Cānura and Muṭṭhika, and caused proclamation to be made throughout the city by beat of drum, "that on the seventh day there would be a wrestling match."

The wrestling ring was prepared in front of the king's gate; there was an enclosure for the games, the ring was decked out gaily, the flags of victory were ready tied. The whole city was in a whirl; line over line rose the seats, tier above tier. Cānura and Muṭṭhika went down into the ring, and strutted about, jumping, shouting, clapping their hands. The Ten Brethren came too. On their way they plundered the washer men's street, and clad themselves in robes of bright colours, 2 and stealing perfume from the perfumers’ shops, and wreaths of flowers from the florists, with their bodies all anointed, garlands upon their heads, earrings in their ears, they strutted into the ring, jumping, shouting, clapping their hands.

At the moment, Cānura was walking about and clapping his hands. Baladeva, seeing him, thought, "I won't touch yon fellow with my hand!" so catching up a thick strap from the elephant stable, jumping and shouting he threw it round Cānura's belly, and joining the two ends together, brought them tight, then lifting him up, swung him round over his head, and dashing him on the ground rolled him outside the arena. When Cānura was dead, the king sent for Muṭṭhika. Up got Muṭṭhika, jumping, shouting, clapping his hands. Baladeva smote him, and crushed in his eyes; and as he cried out—"I'm no wrestler! I'm no wrestler!" Baladeva tied his hands together, saying, "Wrestler or no wrestler, it is all one to me," and dashing him down on the ground, killed him and threw him outside the arena.

Muṭṭhika in his death-throes, uttered a prayer—"May I become a goblin, and devour him!" And he became a goblin, in a forest called by the name of Kāḷamattiya. The king said, "Take away the Ten Slave-Brethren." At that moment, Vāsudeva threw a wheel 1, which lopped off the heads of the two brothers 2. The crowd, terrified, fell at his feet, and besought him to be their protector.

Thus the Ten Brethren, having slain their two uncles, assumed the sovereignty of the city of Asitañjanā, and brought their parents thither.

They now set out, intending to conquer all India. In a while they arrived at the city of Ayojjhā, the seat of king Kāḷasena. This they encompassed about, and destroyed the jungle around it, breached the

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wall and took the king prisoner, and took the sovereignty of the place into their hands. Thence they proceeded to Dvāravatī. Now this city had on one side the sea and on one the mountains. They say that the place was goblin-haunted. A goblin would be stationed on the watch, who seeing his enemies, in the shape of an ass would bray as the ass brays. 3 At once, by goblin magic the whole city used to rise in the air, and deposit itself on an island in the midst of the sea; when the foe was gone, it would come back and settle in its own place again. This time, as usual, no sooner the ass saw those Ten Brethren coming, than he brayed with the bray of an ass. Up rose the city in the air, and settled upon the island. No city could they see, and turned back; then back came the city to its own place again. They returned—again the ass did as before. The sovereignty of the city of Dvāravatī they could not take.

So they visited Kaṇha-dīpāyana 1, and said: "Sir, we have failed to capture the kingdom of Dvāravatī; tell us how to do it." He said: "In a ditch, in such a place, is an ass walking about. He brays when he sees an enemy, and immediately the city rises in the air. You must clasp hold of his feet 2, and that is the way to accomplish your end." Then they took leave of the ascetic; and went all ten of then to the ass, and falling at his feet, said, "Sir, we have no help but thee! When we come to take the city, do not bray!" The ass replied, "I cannot help braying. But if you come first, and four of you bring great iron ploughs, and at the four gates of the city dig great iron posts into the ground, and when the city begins to rise, if you will fix on the post a chain of iron fastened to the plough, the city will not be able to rise." They thanked him; and he did not utter a sound while they got ploughs, and fixed the posts in the ground at the four gates of the city, and stood waiting. Then the ass brayed, the city began to rise, but those who stood at the four gates with the four ploughs, having fixed to the posts iron chains which were fastened to the ploughs, the city could not rise. Thereupon the Ten Brethren entered the city, killed the king, and took his kingdom.

Thus they conquered all India, 4 and in three and sixty thousand cities they slew by the wheel all the kings of them, and lived at Dvāravatī, dividing the kingdom into ten shares. But they had forgotten their sister, the Lady Añjanā. So "Let us make eleven shares of it," said they. But Aṁkura answered, "Give her my share, and I will take to some business for a living; only you must remit my taxes each in your own country." They consented, and gave his share to his sister;

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and with her they dwelt in Dvāravatī, nine kings, while Aṁkura embarked in trade.

In course of time, they were all increased with sons and with daughters; and after a long time had gone by, their parents died. At that period, they say that a man's life was twenty thousand years.

Then died one clearly beloved son of the great King Vāsudeva. The king, half dead with grief, neglected everything, and lay lamenting, and clutching the frame of his bed. Then Ghatapaṇḍita thought to himself, "Except me, no one else is able to soothe my brother's grief; I will find some means of soothing his grief for him." So assuming the appearance of madness, he paced through the whole city, gazing up at the sky, and crying out, "Give me a hare! Give me a hare!" All the city was excited: "Ghatapaṇḍita has gone mad!" they said. Just then a courtier named Rohiṇeyya, went into the presence of King Vāsudeva, and opened a conversation with him by reciting the first stanza:

"Black Kanha, rise! why close the eyes to sleep? why lying there
Thine own born brother—see, the winds away his wit do bear,
Away his wisdom 1! Ghata raves, thou of the long black hair!"

[85] When the courtier had thus spoken, the Master perceiving that he had risen, in his Perfect Wisdom uttered the second stanza:

"So soon the long-haired Kesava heard Rohiṇeyya's cry,
He rose all anxious and distrest for Ghata's misery."

Up rose the king, and quickly came down from his chamber; and proceeding to Ghatapaṇḍita, he got fast hold of him with both hands; and speaking to him, uttered the third stanza:

"In maniac fashion, why do you pace Dvāraka all through,
And cry, "Hare, hare!" Say, who is there has taken a hare from you?"

To these words of the king, he only answered by repeating the same cry over and over again. But the king recited two more stanzas:

"Be it of gold, or made of jewels fine,
Or brass, or silver, as you may incline 2,
    Shell, stone, or coral, I declare
    I'll make a hare.

"And many other hares there be, that range the woodland wide,
They shall be brought, I'll have them caught; say, which do you decide?"

On hearing the king's words, the wise man replied by repeating the sixth stanza:

p. 55

"I crave no hare of earthly kind, but that within the moon 1:
O bring him down, O Kesava! I ask no other boon!"

"Undoubtedly my brother has gone mad," thought the king, when he heard this. In great grief, he repeated the seventh stanza:


"In sooth, my brother, you will die, if you make such a prayer,
And ask for what no man may pray, the moon's celestial hare."

Ghatapaṇḍita, on hearing the king's answer, stood stock still, and said: "My brother, you know that if a man prays for the hare in the moon, and cannot get it, he will die; then why do you mourn for your dead son?"

"If, Kanha, this you know, and can console another's woe,
Why are you mourning still the son who died so long ago?"

Then he went on, standing there in the street—"And I, brother, pray only for what exists, but you are mourning for what does not exist." Then he instructed him by repeating two more stanzas:

"My son is born, let him not die!" Nor man nor deity
Can have that boon; then wherefore pray for what can never be?

"Nor mystic charm, nor magic roots, nor herbs, nor money spent,
Can bring to life again that ghost whom, Kanha, you lament."

The King, on hearing this, answered, "Your intent was good, dear one. You did it to take away my trouble." Then in praise of Ghatapaṇḍita he repeated four stanzas:


"Men had I, wise and excellent to give me good advice:
But how hath Ghatapaṇḍita opened this day mine eyes!

"Blazing was I, as when a man pours oil upon a fire 2;
Thou didst bring water, and didst quench the pain of my desire.

"Grief for my son, a cruel shaft was lodged within my heart;
Thou hast consoled me for my grief, and taken out the dart.

"That dart extracted, free from pain, tranquil, and calm I keep;
Hearing, O youth, thy words of truth, no more I grieve nor weep."

And lastly:

"Thus do the merciful, and thus they who are wise indeed:
They free from pain, as Ghata here his eldest brother freed."

This is the stanza of Perfect Wisdom.

In this manner was Vāsudeva consoled by Prince Ghata.

After the lapse of a long time, during which he ruled his kingdom, the sons of the ten brethren thought: "They say that Kaṇhadīpāyana is

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possest of divine insight. Let us put him to the test." So they procured a young lad, and drest him up, and by binding a pillow about his belly, made it appear as though he were with child. Then they brought him into his presence, and asked him, "When, Sir, will this woman be delivered?" The ascetic perceived 1 that the time was come for the destruction of the ten royal brothers; then, looking 1 to see what the term of his own life should be, he perceived that he must die that very day. Then he said, "Young sirs, what is this man to you?" "Answer us," they replied persistently. He answered, "This man on the seventh day from now will bring forth a knot of acacia wood. With that he will destroy the line of Vāsudeva, even though ye should take the piece of wood and burn it, and cast the ashes into the river." "Ah, false ascetic!" said they, "a man can never bring forth a child!" and they did the rope and string business, and killed him at once. The kings sent for the young men, and asked them why they had killed the ascetic. [88] When they heard all, they were frightened. They set a guard upon the man; and when on the seventh day he voided from his belly a knot of acacia wood, they burnt it, and cast the ashes into the river. The ashes floated down the river, and stuck on one side by a postern gate; from thence sprung an eraka plant.

One day, the kings proposed that they should go and disport themselves in the water. So to this postern gate they came; and they caused a great pavilion to be made, and in that gorgeous pavilion they ate and drank. Then in sport they began to catch hold of hand and foot, and dividing into two parts, they became very quarrelsome. At last one of them, finding nothing better for a club, picked a leaf from the eraka plant, which even as he plucked it became a club of acacia wood in his hand. With this he beat many people. Then the others plucked also, and the things as they took them became clubs, and with them they cudgelled one another until they were killed. As these were destroying each other, four only—Vāsudeva, Baladeva, the lady Añjanā their sister, and the chaplain—mounted a chariot and fled away; the rest perished, every one.

Now these four, fleeing away in the chariot, came to the forest of Kāḷamattikā. There Muṭṭhika the Wrestler had been born, having become according to his prayer a goblin. When he perceived the coming of Baladeva, he created a village in that spot; and taking the semblance of a wrestler, he went jumping about, and shouting, "Who's for a fight?" snapping his fingers the while. Baladeva, as soon as he saw him, said, "Brother, I'll try a fall with this fellow." Vāsudeva tried and tried his best to prevent him; but down he got from the chariot, and went up to him, snapping his fingers. The other just seized him in the

p. 57

hollow of his hand, and gobbled him up like a radish-bulb. Vāsudeva, perceiving that he was dead, went on all night long with his sister and the chaplain, and at sunrise arrived at a frontier village. He lay down in the shelter of a bush, and sent his sister and the chaplain into the village, with orders to cook some food and bring it to him. A huntsman (his name was Jarā, or Old Age) noticed the bush shaking. "A pig, sure enough," thought he; he threw a spear, and pierced his feet. "Who has wounded me?" cried out Vāsudeva. The huntsman, finding that he had wounded a man, set off running in terror. [89] The king, recovering his wits, got up, and called the huntsman—"Uncle, come here, don't be afraid!" When he came—"Who are you?" asked Vāsudeva. "My name is Jarā, my lord." "Ah," thought the king, "whom Old Age wounds will die, so the ancients used to say. Without doubt I must die to-day." Then he said, Fear not, Uncle; come, bind up my wound." The mouth of the wound bound up, the king let him go. Great pains came upon him; he could not eat the food that the others brought. Then addressing himself to the others, Vāsudeva said: "This day I am to die. You are delicate creatures, and will never be able to learn anything else for a living; so learn this science from me." So saying, he taught them a science, and let them go; and then died immediately.

Thus excepting the lady Añjanā, they perished every one, it is said.

When the Master had ended this discourse, he said, "Lay Brother, thus people have got free from grief for a son by attending to the words of wise men of old; do not you think about it." Then he declared the Truths (at the conclusion of the Truths the Lay Brother was established in the fruit of the First Path), and identified the Birth: "At that time, Ānanda was Rohiṇeyya, Sāriputta was Vāsudeva, the followers of the Buddha were the other persons, and I myself was Ghatapaṇḍita."


50:1 The prophecy, and the tower, and the result, will remind the reader of Danae.

50:2 No. 449, above.

51:1 Krishna, Bala-rāma (Krishna's brother), Moon, Sun, Fire, Varuṇa the heaven-god, the tree Terminalia Arjuna, the Rain-cloud (? pajjunno, Skr. , while is a name of Kāma), Ghee-sage (? or ghaṭa-p., an ascetic), Sprout. The story seems to contain a kernel of nature-myth.

52:1 A kind of weapon.

52:2 i.e. the king and his brother.

53:1 The Sage already mentioned in No. 444 (see p. 18, above).

53:2 i.e. beseech him.

54:1 Lit. "his heart and his right eye" (Sch.): Cf. Sanskr. vāyu-grasta "mad."

54:2 These lines have occurred already in No. 449.

55:1 What we call the Man in the Moon is in India called the Hare in the Moon, cf. Jātaka, No. 316.

55:2 These lines occur above, p. 39.

56:1 i.e. by his miraculous vision.

The Jataka, Vol. IV: No. 455.: Māti-Posaka-Jātaka.

The Jataka, Vol. IV, tr. by W.H.D. Rouse, [1901], at

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No. 455.


[90] "Though far away," etc. This story the Master told, while dwelling in Jetavana, about an Elder who had his mother to support. The circumstances of the event are like those of the Sāma Birth 1. On this occasion also the Master said, addressing the Brethren, "Be not wroth, Brethren, with this man; wise men there have been of old, who even when born from the womb of animals, being parted asunder from their mothers, refused for seven days to take food, pining away; and even when they were offered food fit for a king, did but reply, Without my mother I will not eat; yet took food again when they saw the mother." So saying, he told a story of the past.

Once upon a time, when Brahmadatta reigned in Benares, the Bodhisatta was born as an Elephant in the Himalaya region. All white he was, a magnificent beast, and a herd of eighty thousand elephants surrounded him; but his mother was blind. He would give his elephants the sweet wild fruit, so sweet, to convey to her; yet to her they gave none, but themselves ate all of it. When he made enquiry, and heard news of this, said he, "I will leave the herd, and cherish my mother." So in the night season, unknown to the other elephants, taking his mother with him, he departed to Mount Caṇḍoraṇa; and there he placed his mother in a cave of the hills, hard by a lake, and cherished her.

Now a certain forester, who dwelt in Benares, lost his way; and being unable to get his bearings, 1 began to lament with a great noise. Hearing this noise, the Bodhisatta thought to himself, "There is a man in distress, and it is not meet that he come to harm while I am here." So he drew near to the man; but the man fled in fear. Seeing which, the Elephant said to him, "Ho man! you have no need to fear me. Do not flee, but say why you walk about weeping?"

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"My lord," said the man, "I have lost my way, this seven days gone."

Said the Elephant, "Fear not, O man; for I will put you in the path of men." Then he made the man sit on his back, and carried him out of the forest, and then returned.

This wicked man determined to go into the city, and tell the king. So he marked the trees, and marked the hills, and then made his way to Benares. At that time the king's state elephant had just died. The king caused it to be proclaimed by beat of drum, "If any man has in any place seen an elephant fit and proper for the king's riding, let him declare it!" Then this man came before the king, and said, "I, my lord, have seen a splendid elephant, white all over and excellent, fit for the king's riding. I will show the way; send but with me the elephant trainers, and you shall catch him." The king agreed, and sent with the man a forester and a great troop of followers.

The man went with him, and found the Bodhisatta feeding in the lake. When the Bodhisatta saw the forester, he thought, "This danger has doubtless come from none other than that man. But I am very strong; I can scatter even a thousand elephants; in anger I am able to destroy all the beasts that carry the army of a whole kingdom. But if I give way to anger, my virtue will be marred. So to-day I will not be angry, not even though pierced with knives." With this resolve, bowing his head he remained immovable.

Down into the lotus-lake went the forester, and seeing the beauty of his points, said, "Come, my son!" Then seizing him by the trunk (and like a silver rope it was), he led him in seven days to Benares.

When the Bodhisatta's mother found that her son came not, she thought that he must have been caught by the king's nobles. 2 "And now," she wailed, "all these trees will go on growing, but he will be far away"; and she repeated two stanzas:

"Though far away this elephant should go,
Still olibane and kuṭaja 1 will grow,
    Grain, grass, and oleander, lilies white,
On sheltered spots the bluebells dark still blow.

"Somewhere that royal elephant must go,
Full fed by those whose breast and body show
All gold-bedeckt, that King or Prince may ride
Fearless to triumph o’er the mailclad foe."

Now the trainer, while he was yet in the way, sent on a message to tell the king. And the king caused the city to be decorated. The trainer led the Bodhisatta into a stable all adorned and decked out with festoons and with garlands, and surrounding him, with a screen of

p. 60

many colours, sent word to the king. And the king took all manner of fine food and caused it to be given to the Bodhisatta. But not a bit would he eat: "Without my mother, I will eat nothing," said he. The king besought him to eat, repeating the third stanza:


"Come, take a morsel, Elephant, and never pine away:
There's many a thing to serve your king that you shall do one day."

Hearing this, the Bodhisatta repeated the fourth stanza:

"Nay, she by Mount Caṇḍoraṇa, poor blind and wretched one,
Beats with a foot on some tree-root, without her royal son."

The king said the fifth stanza to ask his meaning:

"Who is’t by Mount Caṇḍoraṇa, what blind and wretched one,
Beats with a foot on some tree-root, without her royal son?"

To which the other replied in the sixth stanza:

"My mother by Caṇḍoraṇa, ah blind, ah wretched one!
Beats with her foot on some tree-root for lack of me, her son!"

And hearing this, the king gave him freedom, reciting the seventh stanza:

"This mighty Elephant, who feeds his mother, let go free:
And let him to his mother go, and to all his family."

The eighth and ninth stanzas are those of the Buddha in his perfect wisdom:

"The Elephant from prison freed, the beast set free from chain,
With words of consolation 1 went back to the hills again.

[94]"Then from the cool and limpid pool, where Elephants frequent,
He with his trunk drew water, and his mother all besprent."

But the mother of the Bodhisatta thought it had begun to rain, and repeated the tenth stanza, rebuking the rain:

"Who brings unseasonable rain—what evil deity?
For he is gone, my own, my son, who used to care for me."

Then the Bodhisatta repeated the eleventh stanza, to reassure her:

"Rise mother! why should you there lie? your own, your son has come!
Vedeha, Kāsi's glorious king, has sent me safely home."

And she returned thanks to the king by repeating the last stanza:

"Long live that king! long may he bring his realms prosperity,
Who freed that son who ever hath done so great respect to me!"

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The king was pleased with the Bodhisatta's goodness; and he built a town not far from the lake, and did continual service to the Bodhisatta and to his mother. Afterwards, when his mother died, and the Bodhisatta had performed her obsequies, 5 he went away to a monastery called Karaṇḍaka. In this place five hundred sages came and dwelt, and the king did the like service for them. The king had a stone image made in the figure of the Bodhisatta, and great honour he paid to this. There the inhabitants of all India year by year gathered together, to perform what was called the Elephant Festival.

When the Master had ended this discourse, he declared the Truths, and identified the Birth: (now at the conclusion of the Truths the Brother who supported his mother was established in the fruit of the First Path:) "At that time, Ānanda was the king, the lady Mahāmāyā was the she-elephant, and I was myself the elephant that fed his mother."


58:1 No. 540, vol. vi. 68 (Pāli).

59:1 A medicinal plant.

60:1 The Scholiast explains that the elephant discoursed on virtue to the king, then told him to be careful, and departed, amid the plaudits of the multitude, who threw flowers upon him. He then went home, and fed and washed his mother. To explain this, the Master repeated the two stanzas.

The Jataka, Vol. IV: No. 456.: Juṇha-Jātaka

The Jataka, Vol. IV, tr. by W.H.D. Rouse, [1901], at

No. 456.


"O king of men," etc. This story the Master told while dwelling at Jetavana about the boons received by Elder Ānanda. During the twenty years of his first Buddhahood the Blessed One's attendants were not always the same: sometimes Elder Nāgasamāla, sometimes Nāgita, Upavāṇa, Sunakkhatta, Cunda, Sāgala, sometimes Meghiya waited upon the Blessed One. One day the Blessed One said to the Brethren: "Now I am old, Brethren: and when I say, Let us go in this way, some of the Brotherhood go by another way, some drop my bowl and robe on the ground. Choose out one Brother to attend always upon me." Then they uprose all, beginning with Elder Sāriputta, and laid their joined hands to their heads, crying, "I will serve you, Sir, I will serve you!" But he refused them, saying, "Your prayer is forestalled! enough." Then the Brethren said to the Elder Ānanda, "Do you, friend, ask for the post of attendant." The Elder said, "If the Blessed One will not give me the robe which he himself has received, if he will not give me his dole of food, if he will not grant me to dwell in the same fragrant cell, if he will not have me with him to go where he is invited: but if the Blessed One will go with me where I am invited, if I shall be granted to introduce the company at the moment of coming, which comes from foreign parts and foreign countries to see the Blessed One, 6 if I shall be granted to approach the Blessed One as soon as doubt shall arise, if whenever the Blessed One shall discourse in my absence he will repeat his discourse to me as soon as I shall return: then I will attend upon the Blessed One." These eight boons he craved, four negative and four positive. And the Blessed One granted them to him.

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After that he attended continually upon his Master for five and twenty years. So having obtained the preeminence in the five points 1, and having gained seven blessings, blessing of doctrine, blessing of instruction, blessing of the knowledge of causes, blessing of inquiry as to one's good, blessing of dwelling in a holy place, blessing of enlightened devotion, blessing of potential Buddhahood, in the presence of the Buddha he received the heritage of eight boons, and became famous in the Buddha's religion, and shone as the moon in the heavens.

One day they began to talk about it in the Hall of Truth: "Friend, the Tathāgata has satisfied Elder Ānanda by granting his boons." The Master entered, and asked, "What are you speaking of, Brethren, as ye sit here?" They told him. Then he said, "It is not now the first time, Brethren, but in former days as now I satisfied Ānanda with a boon; in former days, as now, whatsoever he asked, I gave him." And so saying, he told a story of the past.

Once upon a time, when Brahmadatta reigned in Benares, a son of his named Prince Juṇha, or the Moonlight Prince, was studying at Takkasilā. One night, after he had been listening carefully to his teacher's instruction, he left the house of his teacher in the dark, and set out for home. A certain brahmin had been seeking alms, and was going home, and the prince not perceiving him ran up against the brahmin, and broke his alms bowl with a blow of his arm. The brahmin fell, with a cry. In compassion the prince turned round, and taking hold of the man's hands raised him to his feet. The brahmin said, "Now, my son, you have broken my alms-bowl, so give me the price of a meal." Said the Prince, "I cannot now give you the price of a meal, brahmin; but I am Prince Juṇha, son of the king of Kāsi, and when I come to my kingdom, you may come to me and ask for the money."

When his education was finished, he took leave of his teacher, and returning to Benares, showed his father what he had learnt.

"I have seen my son before my death," said the king, "and I will see him king indeed." Then he sprinkled him and made him king. [97] Under the name of King Juṇha the prince ruled in righteousness. When the brahmin heard of it, he thought now he would recover the price of his meal. So to Benares he came, and saw the city all decorated, and the king moving in solemn procession right-wise around it. Taking his stand upon a high place, the brahmin stretched out his hand, and cried, "Victory to the king!" The king passed by without looking at him. When the brahmin found that he was not noticed, he asked an explanation by repeating the first stanza:

"O king of men, hear what I have to say!
Not without cause have I come here this day.
    ’Tis said, O best of men, one should not pass
A wandering brahmin standing in the way."

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On hearing these words the king turned back the elephant with his jewelled goad 1, and repeated the second stanza:

"I heard, I stand: come brahmin, quickly say,
What cause it is has brought you here to-day?
    What boon is it that you would crave of me
That you are come to see me? speak, I pray!"

What further king and brahmin said to each other by way of question and answer, is told in the remaining stanzas:

"Give me five villages, all choice and fine,
A hundred slave-girls, seven hundred kine,
    More than a thousand ornaments of gold,
And two wives give me, of like birth with mine."

[98] "Hast thou a penance, brahmin, dread to tell,
Or hast thou many a charm and many a spell,
    Or goblins, ready your behests to do,
Or any claim for having served me well?"

"No penance have I, nor no charm and spell,
No demons ready to obey me well,
    Nor any meed for service can I claim;
But we have met before, the truth to tell."

"I cannot call to mind, in time past o’er,
That I have ever seen thy face before.
    Tell me, I beg thee, tell this thing to me,
When have we met, or where, in days of yore?"

"In the fair city of Gandhāra's king,
Takkasilā, my lord, was our dwelling.
    There in the pitchy darkness of the night
Shoulder to shoulder thou and I did fling.

"And as we both were standing there, O prince,
A friendly talk between us straight begins.
    Then we together met, and only then,
Nor ever once before, nor ever since."

"Whenever, brahmin, a wise man has met
A good man in the world, he should not let
    Friendship once made or old acquaintance go
For nothing, nor the thing once done forget.

"’Tis fools deny the thing once done, and let
Old friendships fail of those they once have met.
    Many a deed of fools to nothing comes,
They are ungrateful, and they can forget.

"But trusty men cannot forget the past,
Their friendship and acquaintance ever fast.
[99]     A trifle done by such is not disowned:
Thus trusty men are grateful to the last.

"Five villages I give thee, choice and fine,
A hundred slave-girls, and seven hundred kine,
    More than a thousand ornaments of gold,
And more, two wives of equal birth with thine."

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"O king, thus is it when the good agree:
As the full moon among the stars we see,
    Even so, O Lord of Kāsi, so am I,
Now thou hast kept the bargain made with me."

[100] The Bodhisatta added great honour to him.

When the Master had ended this discourse, he said, "This is not the first time, Brethren, that I have satisfied Ānanda with boons, but I have done it before." With these words, he identified the Birth: "At that time Ānanda was the brahmin, and I was myself the king."


61:1 R. Fick, Sociale Gliederung im Nordöstlichen Indien zu Buddha's Zeit, p. 119.

62:1 Are these the Five abhabbatthānas?

63:1 Correct ii. 253. 19 to "jewelled goad"

The Jataka, Vol. IV: No. 457.: Dhamma-Jātaka.

The Jataka, Vol. IV, tr. by W.H.D. Rouse, [1901], at

No. 457.


"I do the right," etc.—This story the Master told while dwelling in Jetavana, how Devadatta was swallowed up in the earth. They gathered in the Hall of Truth to talk: "Friend, Devadatta fell at enmity with the Tathāgata, and was swallowed up in the earth." The Master entering asked what they were talking of as they sat there. They told him. He replied, "Now, Brethren, he has been swallowed up in the earth because he dealt a blow at my victorious authority; but formerly he dealt a blow at the authority of right, and was swallowed up in the earth, and went on his way to nethermost hell." So saying, he told a story of the past.

Once upon a time, when Brahmadatta was king in Benares, the Bodhisatta was born into the world of sense as one of the gods, and was named Dhamma, or Right, while Devadatta was called Adhamma, or Wrong.

As on the fast-day of the full moon, in the evening when meals were done, men were sitting in enjoyment each at his own house-door in village and city and royal capital, Dhamma appeared before them, poised in the air, in his celestial chariot mounted, and adorned with celestial array, in the midst of a multitude of nymphs, and thus addressed them:

"Take not the life of living creatures, and the other ten paths of evildoing eschew, fulfil the duty of service to mother and the duty of service to father and the threefold course of right 1; 1 thus ye shall become destined for heaven, and shall receive great glory." Thus did he urge men

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to follow the ten paths of right-doing, and made a, solemn circuit around India right-wise. But Adhamma taught them, "Kill that which lives," and in like manner urged men to follow the other ten paths of evildoing, and made a circuit around India left-wise.

Now their chariots met face to face in the air, and their attendant multitudes asked each the other, "Whose are you? and whose are you?" They replied, "We are of Dhamma, we of Adhamma," and made room, so that their paths were divided. But Dhamma said to Adhamma, "Good sir, you are Adhamma, and I am Dhamma; I have the right of way; turn your chariot aside, and give me way," repeating the first stanza:

"I do the right, men's fame is of my grace,
Me sages and me brahmins ever praise,
    Worshipt of men and gods, the right of way
Is mine. Right am I: then, O Wrong, give place!"

These next follow:

"In the strong car of Wrong enthroned on high
Me mighty there is nought can terrify:
    Then why should I, who never yet gave place,
Make way to-day for Right to pass me by?"

"Right 1 of a truth was first made manifest,
Primeval he, the oldest, and the best;
Wrong was the younger, later born in time.
Way, younger, at the elder-born's behest!"

"Nor if you worthy be, nor if you pray,
Nor if it be but fair, will I give way:
1 2     Here let us two to-day a battle wage;
He shall have place, whoever wins the fray."

"Known am I in all regions far and near,
Mighty, of boundless glory, without peer,
    All virtues are united in my form.
Right am I: Wrong, how can you conquer here?"

"By iron gold is beaten, nor do we
Gold used for beating iron ever see:
    If Wrong ’gainst Right shall win the fight to-day,
Iron as beautiful as gold will be."

"If you indeed are mighty in the fray,
Though neither good nor wise is what you say,
    Swallow I will all these your evil words;
And willy nilly I will make you way."

These six stanzas they repeated, one answering the other.

[103] But at the very moment when the Bodhisatta repeated this stanza, Adhamma could no longer stand in his car, but head-foremost plunged into the earth which gaped to receive him, and was born again in nethermost hell.

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The Blessed One no sooner perceived this that had happened, than in his Perfect Wisdom he recited the remaining stanzas:

The words no sooner heard, Wrong from the height
Plunged over heels head-foremost out of sight:
    This was the end and direful fate of Wrong.
I had no battle, though I longed to fight.

"Thus by the Mighty-in-Forbearance lies
Conquered the Mighty Warrior Wrong, and dies
    Swallowed in earth: the other, joyful, strong,
Truth-armoured, in his car away he hies.

"Who in his house no due observance pays
To parents, sages, brahmins, when he lays
    The body down, and bursts its bonds asunder,
He, even from this world, goes straight to hell,
Even as Adhamma down head-foremost fell.

"Who in his house all due observance pays
To parents, sages, brahmins, when he lays
    The body down, and bursts its bonds asunder,
Straight from this world, onward to heaven he hies,
As Dhamma in his chariot sought the skies."

[104] When the Master had ended this discourse, he said, "Not now only, Brethren, but in former times also, Devadatta attacked me, and was swallowed up in the earth": then he identified the Birth—"At that time Devadatta was Adhamma, and his attendants were the attendants of Devadatta, and I was Dhamma, and the Buddha's attendants were the attendants of Dhamma."


64:1 Right doing, right saying, right thinking.

65:1 Cf. Pali text, III. 29 (translation, p. 19).

The Jataka, Vol. IV: No. 458.: Udaya-Jātaka.

The Jataka, Vol. IV, tr. by W.H.D. Rouse, [1901], at

No. 458.


"Thee flawless," etc. This story the Master told, while dwelling in Jetavana, about a backsliding Brother. The occasion will be explained under the Kusa Birth 2. Again the Master asked the man, "Is it true, Brother, that you have backslidden, as they say?" And he replied, "Yes, Sir." Then he said, "O Brother, why are you backsliding from a religion such as ours, that leads to salvation, and all for fleshly lusts? Wise men of old, who were kings in Surundha, a city prosperous and measuring twelve leagues either way, though for seven hundred years they abode in one chamber with a woman beauteous as the nymphs divine, yet did not yield to their senses, and never so much as looked at her with desire." So saying, he told a story of the past.

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Once upon a time, when king Kāsi was reigning over the realm of Kāsi, in Surundha his city, neither son nor daughter had he. So he bade his queens offer prayer for sons. Then the Bodhisatta, passing out of Brahma's world, was conceived in the womb of his chief queen. And because by his birth he cheered the hearts of a great multitude, he received the name of Udayabhadda, or Welcome. At the time when the lad could walk upon his feet, another being came into this world from the world of Brahma, and became a girl child in the womb of another of this king's wives, and she was named with the same name, Udayabhaddā.

When the Prince came of years, he attained a mastery in all branches of education; 1 5 more, he was chaste to a degree, and knew nothing of the deeds of the flesh, not even in dream, nor was his heart bent on sinfulness. The king desired 1 to make his son king, with the solemn sprinkling, and to arrange plays for his pleasure; and gave command accordingly. But the Bodhisatta replied, "I do not want the kingdom, and my heart is not bent on sinfulness." Again and again he was entreated, but his reply was to have made a woman's image of red gold, which he sent to his parents, with the message, "When I find such a woman as this, I will accept the kingdom." This golden image they dispatched over all India, but found no woman like to it. Then they deckt out Udayabhaddā very fine, and confronted her with the image; and her beauty surpassed it as she stood. Then they wedded her to the Bodhisatta for consort, against their wills though it were, his own sister the Princess Udayabhaddā, born of a different mother, and sprinkled him to be king.

These two lived together a life of chastity. In course of time, when his parents were dead, the Bodhisatta ruled the realm. The two dwelt together in one chamber, yet denied their senses, and never so much as looked upon one another in the way of desire; nay, a promise they even made, that which of them soever should first die, he should return to the other from his place of new birth, and say, "In such a place am I born again."

Now from the time of his sprinkling the Bodhisatta lived seven hundred years, and then he died. Other king there was none, the commands of Udayabhaddā were promulgated, the courtiers administered the kingdom. The Bodhisatta had become Sakka in the Heaven of the Thirty-three, and by the magnificence of his glory was for seven days unable to remember the past. So he after the course of seven hundred years, according to man's reckoning 2, remembered, and said to himself, "To the king's daughter Udayabhaddā I will go, and I will test her with

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riches, and roaring with the roar of a lion I will discourse, and will fulfil my promise!"

In that age they say that the length of man's life was ten thousand years. Now at that time, it being the time of night, the palace doors were fast closed, and the guard set, and the king's daughter was sitting quiet and alone, in a magnificent chamber upon the fine terrace of her seven-storeyed mansion, 1 6 meditating upon her own virtue. Then Sakka took a golden dish filled with coins all of gold, and in her very sleeping-chamber appeared before her; and standing on one side, began speech with her by reciting the first stanza:

"Thee flawless in thy beauty, pure and bright,
Thee sitting lonely on this terrace-height,
    In pose most graceful, eyed like nymphs of heaven,
I pray thee, let me spend with thee this night!"

To this the princess made answer in the two stanzas following:

"To this battlemented city, dug with moats, approach is hard,
While its trenches and its towers hand and sword unite to guard.

"Not the young and not the mighty entrance here can lightly gain;
Tell me—what can be the reason why to meet me thou art fain?"

Then Sakka recited the fourth stanza:


"I, fair beauty, am a Goblin, I that now appear to thee:
Grant to me thy favour, lady, this full bowl receive from me."

On hearing which the princess replied by repeating the fifth stanza:

"I ask for none, since Udaya has died,
Nor god nor goblin, no nor man, beside:
    Therefore, O mighty Goblin, get thee gone,
Come no more hither, but far off abide."

Hearing her lion's note, he stood not, but made as though to depart; and at once disappeared. Next day at the same hour, he took a silver bowl filled with golden coins and addrest her by repeating the sixth stanza:

"That chiefest joy, to lovers known completely,
    Which makes men do full many an evil thing,
Despise not thou, O lady, smiling sweetly:
    See, a full bowl of silver here I bring!"

Then the princess began to think, "If I allow him to talk and prate, he will come again and again. I will have nothing to say to him now." 1 So she said nothing at all. Sakka finding that she had nothing to say, disappeared at once from his place.

Next day, at the same time, he took an iron bowl full of coins, and said, "Lady, if you will bless me with your love, I will give this iron bowl full of coins to you." When she saw him, the princess repeated the seventh stanza:

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"Men that would woo a woman, raise and raise
The bids of gold, till she their will obeys.
    The gods' ways differ, as I judge by thee:
Thou comest now with less than other days."

The Great Being, when he heard these words, made reply, "Lady Princess, I am a wary trader, and I waste not my substance for nought. If you were increasing in youth or beauty, I would also increase the present I offer you; but you are fading, and so I make the offering dwindle also." So saying, he repeated three stanzas

"O woman! youthful bloom and beauty fade
Within this world of men, thou fair-limbed maid.
    And thou to-day art older grown than erst,
So dwindles less the sum I would have paid.

"Thus, glorious daughter of a king, before my gazing eyes
As goes the flight of day and night thy beauty fades and dies.

"But if, O daughter of a king most wise, it pleases thee
Holy and pure to aye endure, more lovely shalt thou be!"

[109] Hereupon the princess repeated another stanza:

"The gods are not like men, they grow not old;
Upon their flesh is seen no wrinkled fold.
    How is’t the gods have no corporeal frame?
This, mighty Goblin, I would now be told!"

Then Sakka explained the matter by repeating another stanza:

"The gods are not like men: they grow not old;
Upon their flesh is seen no wrinkled fold:
    To-morrow and to-morrow ever more
Celestial beauty grows, and bliss untold."

[110] When she heard the beauty of the world of gods, she asked the way to go thither in another stanza:

"What terrifies so many mortals here?
I ask thee, mighty Goblin, to make clear
That path, in such diversity explained:
How faring heavenwards need no one fear?"

Then Sakka explained the matter in another stanza:

"Who keeps in due control both voice and mind,
    Who with the body loves not sin to do,
Within whose house much food and drink we find,
    Large-handed, bounteous, in all faith all true,
Of favours free, soft-tongued, of kindly cheer—
He that so walks to heaven need nothing fear."

[111] When the princess had heard his words, she rendered thanks in another stanza:

"Like a mother, like a father, Goblin, you admonish me:
Mighty one, O beauteous being, tell me, tell me who you be?"

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Then the Bodhisatta repeated another stanza:

"I am Udaya, fair lady, for my promise come to thee:
Now I go, for I have spoken; from the promise I am free."

The princess drew a deep breath, and said, "You are King Udayabhadda, my lord!" then burst into a flood of tears, and added, "Without you I cannot live! Instruct me, that I may live with you always!" So saying she repeated another stanza:

"If thou’rt Udaya, come hither for thy promise—truly he—,
Then instruct me, that together we, O prince, again may be!"

Then he repeated four stanzas by way of instruction:

"Youth passes soon: a moment—’tis gone by;
No standing-place is firm: all creatures die
    To new life born: this fragile frame decays:
Then be not careless, walk in piety.

"If the whole earth with all her wealth could be
The realm of one sole king to hold in fee,
    A holy saint would leave him in the race:
Then be not careless, walk in piety.

[112] "Mother and father, brother-kin, and she
(The wife) who with a price can purchased be,
    They go, and each the other leave behind:
Then be not careless, walk in piety.

"Remember that this body food shall be
For others; joy alike and misery,
    A passing hour, as life succeeds to life:
Then be not careless, walk in piety."

In this manner discoursed the Great Being. The lady being pleased with the discoursing, rendered thanks in the words of the last stanza:


"Sweet the saying of this Goblin: brief the life that mortals know,
Sad it is, and short, and with it comes inseparable woe.
I renounce the world: from Kāsi, from Surundhana, I go."

Having thus discoursed to her, the Bodhisatta went back to his own place.

The princess next day entrusted her courtiers with the government; and in that very city of hers, in a delightsome park, she became a recluse. There she lived righteously, until at the end of her days she was born again in the Heaven of the Thirty-three, as the Bodhisatta's handmaiden.

When the Master had ended this discourse, he declared the Truths and identified the Birth: (now at the conclusion of the Truths, the backsliding Brother was established in the fruit of the First Path:)—"At that time Rāhula's mother was the Princess, and Sakka was I myself."


66:1 Cf. Ananusociya-jātaka, No. 328 in vol. iii.

66:2 No. 531.

67:1 In the text, the King's words should begin at the word puttaṁ, as the context shows.

67:2 Does this mean that Sakka's day equals 100 of our years?

The Jataka, Vol. IV: No. 459.: Pānīya-Jātaka.

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No. 459.


"The water-draught," etc. This story the Master told, whilst dwelling in Jetavana, about the subduing of evil passions.

At one time, we learn, five hundred citizens of Sāvatthi, being householders and friends of the Tathāgata, had heard the Law and had renounced the world, and been ordained as priests. Living in the house of the Golden Pavement, at midnight they indulged in thoughts of sin. (All the details are to be understood as in a previous story 1.) At the command of the Blessed One, the Brotherhood was assembled by the Venerable Ānanda. The Master sat in the appointed seat, and without asking them, "Do you indulge in thoughts of sin?" he addressed them comprehensively and in general terms: "Brethren, there is no such thing as a petty sin. A Brother must check all sins as they each arise. Wise men of old, before the Buddha came, subdued their sins and attained to the knowledge of a Pacceka-Buddha." With these words, he told there a story of the past.

[114] Once upon a time, when Brahmadatta was king in Benares, there were two friends in a certain village in the kingdom of Kāsi. These had gone afield, taking with them vessels for drinking, which they laid out of the way as they broke the clods, and when they were thirsty, went and drank water out of them. One of them, on going for a drink, husbanded the water in his own pot, and drank out of the pot of the other. In the evening, when he came out from the woodland, and had bathed, he stood thinking. "Have I done any sin to-day," thought he, "either by the door of the body, or any other?" 2 Then he remembered how he drank the stolen water, and grief came upon him, and he cried, "If this thirst grows upon me, it will bring me to some evil birth! I will subdue my sin." So with this stolen draught of water for cause 3, he gradually acquired supernatural insight, and attained the knowledge of a Pacceka-Buddha; and there he stood, reflecting upon the knowledge which he had attained.

Now the other man, having bathed, got up, saying, "Come, friend, let us go home." Said the other, "Go home thou, home is nothing to me, I am a Pacceka-Buddha." "Pooh! are Pacceka-Buddhas like you?" "What are they like, then?" "Hair two fingers long, yellow robes they wear, in Nandamūla cave they live high up in Himalaya." The other stroked his head: in that very moment the marks of a layman disappeared,

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a pair of red cloths were wrapt round him, a waist-band yellow like a flash of lightning was about him tied, the upper robe of the colour of red lac was thrown over one shoulder, a dust-heap ragged cloth dingy as a storm-cloud lay on his shoulder, a bee-brown earthen bowl dangled from over his left shoulder; there he stood poised in mid-air, and having delivered a discourse, he rose and descended not until he came to the mountain-cave of Nandamūla.

Another man, who also lived in a village of Kāsi, a land-owner, was sitting in the bazaar, when he saw a man approach leading his wife. Seeing her (and she was a woman of surpassing beauty) he broke the moral principles, and looked upon her; then again he thought, "This desire, if it increases, will cast me into some evil birth." Being exercised in mind, he developed supernatural insight, and attained the knowledge of a Pacceka Buddha; then poised in the air, he delivered a discourse, 1 5 and he also went to the Nandamūla cave 1.

Villagers of a place in Kāsi were likewise two, a father and a son, who were going on a journey together. At the entering in of a forest were robbers posted. These robbers, if they took a father and son together, would keep the son with them, and send the father away, saying, "Bring back a ransom for your son": or if two brothers, they kept the younger and sent the elder away; or if teacher and pupil, they kept the teacher and sent the pupil,—and the pupil for love of learning would bring money and release his teacher. Now when this father and son saw the robbers lying in wait, the father said, "Don't you call me "father," and I will not call you "son"."And so they agreed. So when the robbers came up, and asked how they stood to one another, they replied, "We are nothing to one another," thus telling a premeditated lie. When they came out of the forest, and were resting after the evening bath, the son examined his own virtue, and remembering this lie, he thought, "This sin, if it increases, will plunge me in some evil birth. I will subdue my sin!" Then he developed supernatural insight, and attained to the knowledge of a Pacceka-Buddha, and poised in the air delivered a discourse to his father, and he too went to the Nandamūla cave.

In a village of Kāsi also lived a zemindar, who laid an interdict upon all slaughter. Now when the time came when offering was wont to be made to the spirits, a great crowd gathered, and said, "My lord! this is the time for sacrifice: let us slay deer and swine and other animals, and make offering to the Goblins," he replied, "Do as you have done aforetime." The people made a great slaughter. The man seeing a great quantity of fish and flesh, thought to himself, "All these living creatures the men have slain, and all because of my word alone!" He repented: and as he stood

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by the window, he developed supernatural insight, and attained to the knowledge of a Pacceka-Buddha, and poised in the air delivered a discourse, then he too went to the Nandamūla cave.

Another zemindar who lived in the kingdom of Kāsi, prohibited the sale of strong drink. A crowd of people cried out to him, "My lord, what shall we do? It is the time-honoured drinking festival!" He replied, "Do as you have always done aforetime." 1 6 The people made their festival, and drank strong drink, and fell a-quarrelling; there were broken legs and arms, and cracked crowns, and ears torn off, and many a penalty was inflicted for it. The zemindar seeing this, thought to himself, "If I had not permitted this, they would not have suffered this misery." Even for this trifle he felt remorse: then he developed supernatural insight, and attained the knowledge of a Pacceka-Buddha, poised in the air he discoursed, and bade them be vigilant, then he too went to the Nandamūla cave.

Some time afterwards, the five Pacceka-Buddhas all alighted at the gate of Benares, seeking for alms. Their upper robe and lower robe neatly arranged, with gracious address they went on their rounds, and came to the gate of the King's palace. The King was much pleased to behold them; he invited them into his palace, and washed their feet, anointed them with fragrant oil, set before them savoury food both hard and soft, and sitting on one side, thus addressed them: "Sirs, that you in your youth have embraced the ascetic life, is beautiful; at this age, you have become ascetics, and you see the misery of evil lusts. What was the cause of your action?" They replied as follows:

"The water-draught of my own friend, although a, friend, I stole:
Loathing the sin which I had done, I afterwards was fain
To leave the world, an eremite, lest I should sin again."

"I looked upon another's wife; lust rose within my soul:
Loathing the sin which I had done, I afterwards was fain
To leave the world, an eremite, lest I should sin again."

"Thieves caught my father in a wood: to whom I did forth tell
That he was other than he was—a lie, I knew it well:
Loathing the sin," etc.

"The people at a drinking-feast full many beasts did kill,
    And not against my will:
Loathing the sin," etc.

"Those persons who in former times of liquors drank their fill,
Now carried out a drinking-bout, whence many suffered ill,
1     And not against my will.
Loathing the sin which I had done, I afterwards was fain
To leave the world, an eremite, lest I should sin again."

These five stanzas they repeated one after the other.

When the king had heard the explanation of each, he uttered his praise, saying, "Sirs, your asceticism becomes you well."

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The king was delighted at the discourse of these men. He bestowed upon them cloth for outer and inner garments, and medicines, then let the Pacceka-Buddhas go away. They thanked him, and returned to the place whence they came. Ever after that the king loathed the pleasures of sense, was free from desire, ate 1 his choice and dainty food, but to women he would not speak, would not look at them, rose up disgusted at heart and retired to his magnificent chamber, and there he sat: stared at a white wall until he fell into a trance, and conceived within him the rapture of mystic meditation. In this rapture rapt, he recited a stanza in dispraise of desire:

"Out on it, out on lust, I say, unsavoury, thorn-beset!
Never, though long I followed wrong, such joy as this I met!"

[118] Then his chief queen thought to herself, "That king heard the discoursing of the Pacceka-Buddhas, and now he never speaks to us, but buries himself despondent in his magnificent chamber. I must take him in hand." So she came to the door of that lordly chamber, and standing at the door, heard the king's rapturous utterances, in dispraise of desire. She said, "O mighty king, you speak ill of desire! but there is no joy like the joy of sweet desire!" Then in praise of desire she repeated another stanza:

"Great is the joy of sweet desire: no greater joy than love:
Who follow this attain the bliss of paradise above!"

Hearing this, the king made reply: "Perish, vile jade! What sayst thou? Whence comes the joy of desire? There are miseries which come to pay for it" : with which he uttered the remaining stanzas in dispraise:

"Ill-tasting, painful is desire, there is no worser woe:
Who follow sin are sure to win the pains of hell below.

"Than sword well whetted, or a blade implacable, athirst,
Than knives deep driven in the heart, desires are more accurst.

"A pit as deep as men are tall, where live coals blazing are,
A ploughshare heated in the sun,—desires are worser far.

"A poison very venomous, an oil of little ease 2,
Or that vile thing to copper clings 3—desires are worse than these."

[119] Thus the Great Being discoursed to his consort. Then he gathered his courtiers, and said, "O courtiers, do you manage the kingdom: I am about to renounce the world." Amidst the wailing and lamentation of a great multitude, he rose before them, and poised in the air, delivered a discourse. Then along the path of the wind he past to furthest Himalaya, and in a delightsome spot builded a

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hermitage; there he lived the life of a sage, until at the end of his days he became destined for the world of Brahma.

The Master, having ended this discourse, added, "Brethren, there is no such thing as a petty sin: the very smallest must be checked by a wise man." Then he declared the Truths, and identified the Birth (now at the conclusion of the Truths the five hundred Brethren became established in sainthood):—"At that time the Pacceka-Buddhas attained Nirvāna, Rāhula's mother was the queen consort, and I myself was the king."


71:1 See on No. 412, vol. ii.

71:2 i.e. word, or thought.

71:3 That is, he made this the subject of his meditation (ārammaṇaṁ), and thus sunk into an ecstatic trance.

72:1 Cf., Vidabbha-jātaka, vol. i. no. 48

74:1 Ought we to read abhuñjitvā, "did not care to eat"?

74:2 "Extracted oil"? (Cf. Suçruta, I. 181). Apparently some kind of poison.

74:3 Verdigris.

The Jataka, Vol. IV: No. 460.: Yuvañjaya-Jātaka.

The Jataka, Vol. IV, tr. by W.H.D. Rouse, [1901], at

No. 460.


"I greet the lord," etc. This story the Master told while dwelling in Jetavana, about the Great Renunciation 1. One day the Brethren had assembled in the Hall of Truth. "Brother," one would say to his fellow, "the Dasabala 2 might have dwelt in a house, he might have been an universal monarch in the centre of the great world, possessed of the Seven Precious Things, glorious with the Four Supernatural Faculties 3, surrounded with sons more than a thousand! Yet all this magnificence he renounced when he perceived the bane that lies in desires. At midnight, with Channa in company, he mounted his horse Kanthaka, and departed: on the banks of Anomā, the River Glorious, he renounced the world, and for six years he tormented himself with austerities, and then attained to perfect wisdom." Thus talked they of the Buddha's virtues. The Master entering, asked, "What are you speaking of now, Brethren, as ye sit here?" They told him. Said the Master, "This is not the first time, Brethren, that the Tathāgata has made the Great Renunciation. In days of yore he retired and gave up the kingdom of Benares City, which was twelve leagues in extent." So saying, he told a story of the past.

Once upon a time a king named Sabbadatta reigned in the city of Ramma. The place which we now call Benares is named Surundhana City in the Udaya Birth 4, and Sudassana in the Cullasutasoma 5Birth, and

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[paragraph continues] Brahmavaddhana in the Soṇandana 1 Birth, and Pupphavatī in the Khaṇḍahāla 2 Birth: 1 2 but in this Yuvañjaya Birth it is named Ramma City. In this manner its name changes on each several occasion. At that time the king Sabbadatta had a thousand sons; and to his eldest son Yuvañjana he gave the viceroyalty.

One day early in the morning he mounted his splendid chariot, and in great pomp went to disport him in the park. On the tree-tops, on the grass-tips, at the ends of the branches, on all the spiders' webs and threads, on the points of the rushes, he saw the dew-drops hanging like so many strings of pearls. "Friend charioteer," quoth he, "what is this?" "This, my lord," he replied, "is what falls in the cold weather, and they call it dew." The prince took his pleasure in the park for a portion of the day. In the evening, as he was returning home, he could see none of it. "Friend charioteer," said he, "where are the dew-drops? I do not see them now." "My lord," said the other, "as the sun rises higher, they all melt and sink into the ground." On hearing this, the prince was distressed, and said, "The life of us living beings is fashioned like dew-drops on the grass. I must be rid of the oppression of disease, old age, and death; I must take leave of my parents, and renounce the world." So because of the dew-drops, he perceived the Three modes of Existence 3 as it were in a blazing fire. When he came home, he went into the presence of his father in his magnificent Hall of Judgement, and greeting his father, he stood on one side, and repeated the first stanza, asking his leave to renounce the world:

"I greet the lord of charioteers with friends and courtiers by:
The world, O King! I would renounce: let not my lord deny."

Then the king repeated the second stanza, dissuading him:

"If aught thou crave, Yuvañjana, I will fulfil it quite:
If any hurt thee, I protect: be thou no eremite."

[121] Hearing this, the prince recited the third stanza:

"No man there is that does me harm: my wishes nothing lack:
But I would seek a refuge, where old age makes no attack."

By way of explaining this matter, the Master uttered a half-stanza:

"The son speaks to his father thus, the father to his son":

The remaining half-stanza was uttered by the king:

"Leave not the world, O prince! so cry the townsfolk every one."

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The prince again repeated this stanza:

"O do not from the unworldly life, great monarch, make me stay,
Lest I, intoxicate with lusts, to age become a prey!"

This said, the king hesitated. Then the mother was told, "Your son, my lady, is asking his father's leave to renounce the world." "What do you say?" she asked. It took her breath away. Seated in her litter of gold she went swiftly to the Hall of Judgement, and repeating the sixth stanza, asked:

"I beg thee, it is I, my dear, and I would make thee stay!
Long wish I thee, my son, to see: O do not go away!"

[122] On hearing which the prince repeated the seventh stanza:

"Like as the dew upon the grass, when the sun rises hot,
So is the life of mortal men: O mother, stay me not!"

When he had said this, she begged him again and again to the same effect. Then the Great Being addressed his father in the eighth stanza:

"Let those that bear this litter, lift: let not my mother stay
Me, mighty king! from entering upon my holy way 1."

When the king heard his son's words, he said, "Go, lady, in your litter, back to our palace of Perennial Delight." At his words her feet failed her: and surrounded with her company of women, she departed, and entered the palace, and stood looking towards the Hall of Judgement, and wondering what news of her son. After his mother's departure the Bodhisatta again asked leave of his father. The king could not refuse him, and said, "Have thy will, then, dear son, and renounce the world."

When this consent was gained, the Bodhisatta's youngest brother, Prince Yudhiṭṭhila, greeted his father, and likewise asked leave to follow the religious life, and the king consented. Both brothers bade their father farewell, and having now renounced worldly lusts departed from the Hall of Judgement, amidst a great company of people. The queen looking upon the Great Being cried weeping, "My son has renounced the world, and the city of Ramma will be empty!" Then she repeated a couple of stanzas:

"Make haste, and bless thee! empty now is Rammaka, I trow:
King Sabbadatta has allowed Yuvañjana to go.

[123] "The eldest of a thousand, he, like gold to look upon,
This mighty prince has left the world the yellow robe to don."

The Bodhisatta did not at once embrace the religious life. No, he first bade farewell to his parents; then taking with him his youngest brother, Prince Yudhiṭṭhila, he left the city, and sending back the great

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multitude which followed them, they both made their way to Himalaya. There in a delightsome spot they built a hermitage, and embraced the life of a holy sage, and cultivating the transcendent rapture of meditation, they lived all their lives long upon the fruits and roots of the forest, and became destined for the world of Brahma.

This matter is explained in the stanza of perfect wisdom which comes last:

"Yuvañjana, Yudhiṭṭhila, in holy life remain:
Their father and their mother left, they break in two death's chain."

When the Master had ended this discourse, he said, "This is not the first time, Brethren, that the Tathāgata renounced a kingdom to follow the religious life, but it was the same before;" then he identified the Birth:—"At that time members of the present king's family were the father and mother, Ānanda was Yudhiṭṭhila, and I was Yuvañjana myself."


75:1 Buddha's retirement from the world: Hardy, Manual, pp. 158 ff.; Warren, Buddhism in Translations, § 6.

75:2 Buddha: one who possesses the Ten Powers or Ten Kinds of Knowledge.

75:3 See iii. 454 (p. 272 of this translation).

75:4 No. 458.

75:5 No. 525.

76:1 No. 532.

76:2 No. 542.

76:3 Kāmabhavo, rūpabhavo, arūpabhavo: sense-existence, body-existence (where there is form, but no sensual enjoyment), formless-existence. See Hardy, Manual of Budhism, p. 3, for a fuller account.

77:1 Tarati means technically to "flee from the City of Destruction."

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No. 461.


"Let Lakkhaṇa," etc.—This story the Master told in Jetavana about a landowner whose father was dead. This man on his father's death was overwhelmed with sorrow: leaving all his duties undone, he gave himself up to his sorrow wholly. The Master at dawn of day looking out upon mankind, perceived that he was ripe for attaining the fruit of the First Path. Next day, after going his rounds for alms in Sāvatthi, his meal done, he dismissed the Brethren, and taking with him a junior Brother, 1 2 4 went to this man's house, and gave him greeting, and addressed him as he sat there in words of honey sweetness. "You are in sorrow, lay Brother?" said he. "Yes, Sir, afflicted with sorrow for my father's sake." Said the Master, "Lay Brother, wise men of old who exactly knew the eight conditions of this world  2, felt at a father's death no grief, not even a little." Then at his request he told a story of the past.

Once upon a time, at Benares, a great king named Dasaratha renounced the ways of evil, and reigned in righteousness. Of his sixteen thousand wives, the eldest and queen-consort bore him two sons and a daughter;

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the elder son was named Rama-paṇḍita, or Rama the Wise, the second was named Prince Lakkhaṇa, or Lucky, and the daughter's name was the Lady Sītā 1.

In course of time, the queen-consort died. At her death the king was for a long time crushed by sorrow, but urged by his courtiers he performed her obsequies, and set another in her place as queen-consort. She was dear to the king and beloved. In time she also conceived, and all due attention having been given her, she brought forth a son, and they named him Prince Bharata.

The king loved his son much, and said to the queen, "Lady, I offer you a boon: choose." She accepted the offer, but put it off for the time. When the lad was seven years old, she went to the king, and said to him, "My lord, you promised a boon for my son. Will you give it me now?" "Choose, lady," said he. "My lord," quoth she, "give my son the kingdom." The king snapt his fingers at her; "Out, vile jade!" said he angrily, "my other two sons shine like blazing fires; would you kill them, and ask the kingdom for a son of yours?" She fled in terror to her magnificent chamber, and on other days again and again asked the king for this. The king would not give her this gift. He thought within himself: "Women are ungrateful and treacherous. This woman might use a forged letter or a treacherous bribe to get my sons murdered." So he sent for his sons, and told them all about it, saying: "My sons, if you live here some mischief may befall you. Go to some neighbouring kingdom, or to the woodland, and when my body is burnt, then return and inherit the kingdom which belongs to your family." Then he summoned soothsayers, and asked them the limits of his own life. They told him he would live yet twelve years longer. 1 2 5 Then he said, "Now, my sons, after twelve years you must return, and uplift the umbrella of royalty." They promised, and after taking leave of their father, went forth from the palace weeping. The Lady Sītā said, "I too will go with my brothers:" she bade her father farewell, and went forth weeping.

These three departed amidst a great company of people. They sent the people back, and proceeded until at last they came to Himalaya. There in a spot well-watered, and convenient for the getting of wild fruits, they built a hermitage, and there lived, feeding upon the wild fruits.

Lakkhaṇa-paṇḍita and Sītā said to Rāma-paṇḍita, "You are in place of a father to us; remain then in the hut, and we will bring wild fruit, and feed you." He agreed: thenceforward Rāma-paṇḍita stayed where he was, the others brought the wild fruit and fed him with it.

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Thus they lived there, feeding upon the wild fruit; but King Dasaratha pined after his sons, and died in the ninth year. When his obsequies were performed, the queen gave orders that the umbrella should be raised over her son, Prince Bharata. But the courtiers said, "The lords of the umbrella are dwelling in the forest," and they would not allow it. Said Prince Bharata, "I will fetch back my brother Rāmapaṇḍita from the forest, and raise the royal umbrella over him." Taking the five emblems of royalty 1, he proceeded with a complete host of the four arms 2 to their dwelling-place. Not far away he caused camp to be pitched, and then with a few courtiers he visited the hermitage, at the time when Lakkhaṇa-paṇḍita and Sītā were away in the woods. At the door of the hermitage sat Rama-paṇḍita, undismayed and at ease, like a figure of fine gold firmly set. The prince approached him with a greeting, and standing on one side, told him of all that had happened in the kingdom, and falling at his feet along with the courtiers, burst into weeping. Rama-paṇḍita neither sorrowed nor wept; emotion in his mind was none. When Bharata had finished weeping, and sat down, towards evening the other two returned with wild fruits. Rama-paṇḍita thought—"These two are young: all-comprehending wisdom like mine is not theirs. 1 2 6 If they are told on a sudden that our father is dead, the pain will be greater than they can bear, and who knows but their hearts may break. I will persuade them to go down into the water, and find a means of disclosing the truth." Then pointing out to them a place in front where there was water, he said, "You have been out too long: let this be your penance—go into that water, and stand there." Then he repeated a half-stanza:

"Let Lakkhaṇa and Sītā both into that pond descend."

One word sufficed, into the water they went, and stood there. Then he told them the news by repeating the other half-stanza:

"Bharata says, king Dasaratha's life is at an end."

When they heard the news of their father's death, they fainted. Again he repeated it, again they fainted, and when even a third time they fainted away, the courtiers raised them and brought them out of the water, and set them upon dry ground. When they had been comforted, they all sat weeping and wailing together. Then Prince Bharata thought: "My brother Prince Lakkhaṇa, and my sister the Lady Sītā, cannot restrain their grief to hear of our father's death; but Rama-paṇḍita neither wails nor weeps. I wonder what can the reason be that he

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grieves not? I will ask." Then he repeated the second stanza, asking the question:

"Say by what power thou grievest not, Rāma, when grief should be?
Though it is said thy sire is dead grief overwhelms not thee!"

Then Rāma-paṇḍita explained the reason of his feeling no grief by saying,

"When man can never keep a thing, though loudly he may cry,
Why should a wise intelligence torment itself thereby?

[127] "The young in years, the older grown, the fool, and eke the wise,
For rich, for poor one end is sure: each man among them dies.

As sure as for the ripened fruit there comes the fear of fall,
So surely comes the fear of death to mortals one and all.

"Who in the morning light are seen by evening oft are gone,
And seen at evening time, is gone by morning many a one.

"If to a fool infatuate a blessing could accrue
When he torments himself with tears, the wise this same would do.

"By this tormenting of himself he waxes thin and pale;
This cannot bring the dead to life, and nothing tears avail.

"Even as a blazing house may be put out with water, so
The strong, the wise, the intelligent, who well the scriptures know,
Scatter their grief like cotton when the stormy winds do blow.

"One mortal dies—to kindred ties born is another straight:
Each creature's bliss dependent is on ties associate.

"The strong man therefore, skilled in sacred text,
Keen-contemplating this world and the next,
Knowing their nature, not by any grief,
However great, in mind and heart is vext.

"So to my kindred I will give, them will I keep and feed,
All that remain I will maintain: such is the wise man's deed 1."

In these stanzas he explained the Impermanence of things.

[129] When the company heard this discourse of Rāma-paṇḍita, illustrating the doctrine of Impermanence, they lost all their grief. Then Prince Bharata saluted Rāma-paṇḍita, begging him to receive the kingdom of Benares. "Brother," said Rāma, "take Lakkhaṇa and Sītā with you, and administer the kingdom yourselves." "No, my lord, you take it." "Brother, my father commanded me to receive the kingdom at the end of twelve years. If I go now, I shall not carry out his bidding. After three more years I will come." "Who will carry on the government all that time?" "You do it." "I will not." "Then until I come, these slippers shall do it," said Rāma, and doffing his slippers of straw he gave them to his brother. So these three persons took the slippers, and bidding the wise man farewell, went to Benares with their great crowd of followers.

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For three years the slippers ruled the kingdom. The courtiers placed these straw slippers upon the royal throne, when they judged a cause. If the cause were decided wrongly, 1 3 the slippers beat upon each other 1, and at that sign it was examined again; when the decision was right, the slippers lay quiet.

When the three years were over, the wise man came out of the forest, and came to Benares, and entered the park. The princes hearing of his arrival proceeded with a great company to the park, and making Sītā the queen consort, gave to them both the ceremonial sprinkling. The sprinkling thus performed, the Great Being standing in a magnificent chariot, and surrounded by a vast company, entered the city, making a solemn circuit right-wise; then mounting to the great terrace of his splendid palace Sucandaka, he reigned there in righteousness for sixteen thousand years, and then went to swell the hosts of heaven.

This stanza of Perfect Wisdom explains the upshot:

"Years sixty times a hundred, and ten thousand more, all told,
Reigned strong-armed Rāma, on his neck the lucky triple fold."

The Master having ended this discourse, declared the Truths, and identified the Birth: (now at the conclusion of the Truths, the land-owner was established in the fruit of the First Path:) "At that time the king Suddhodana 3 was king Dasaratha, Mahāmāyā 3 was the mother, Rāhulā's mother 4 was Sītā, Ānanda was Bharata, and I myself was Rāma-paṇḍita."


78:1 Edited and translated by V. Fausbøl, The Dasaratha Jātaka, Copenhagen, 1871. The story is like that of the Rāmāyana, except that here Sītā is the hero's sister, not his wife.

78:2 Gain and loss, fame and dishonour, praise and blame, bliss and woe.

79:1 "Cool," which has in India the same pleasant associations as warm has for us.

80:1 Sword, umbrella, diadem, slippers, and fan.

80:2 Elephants, cavalry, chariots, infantry.

81:1 The scholiast quotes on p. 129 a stanza which occurred in the Kālabāhu Birth, No. 329 (vol. iii. p. 66 of this translation), beginning "Gain and loss".

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The Jataka, Vol. IV, tr. by W.H.D. Rouse, [1901], at

No. 462.


"Your nature, mighty monarch," etc. This story the Master told while dwelling in Jetavana, about a Brother who had ceased to strive. This, we learn, was a young man of family, who lived in Sāvatthi. Having heard the Master's discoursing, he renounced the world. Fulfilling the tasks imposed by his teachers and preceptors, he learnt by heart both divisions of the Pātimokkha.

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[paragraph continues] When five years were past, he said, "When I have been instructed in the mode of attaining the mystic trance, I will go dwell in the forest." Then he took leave of his teachers and preceptors, and proceeded to a frontier village in the kingdom of Kosala. The people were pleased with his deportment, 1 3 and he made a hut of leaves and there was attended to. Entering upon the rainy season, zealous, eager, striving in strenuous endeavour he strove after the mystic trance for the space of three months: but of this not a trace could he produce. Then he thought: "Verily I am the most devoted to worldly conditions 1 among the four classes of men taught by the Master! What have I to do with living in the forest?" Then he said to himself, "I will return to Jetavana  2, and there in beholding the beauty of the Tathāgata, and hearing his discourse sweet as honey, I will pass my days." So he relaxed his striving; and setting forth he came in course of time to Jetavana. His preceptors and teachers, his friends and acquaintances asked him the cause of his coming. He informed them, and they reproved him for it, asking him why he had so done. Then they led him into the Master's presence. "Why, Brethren," said the Master, "do you lead hither a Brother against his will?" They replied, "This Brother has come hither because he has relaxed his striving." "Is this true, as they tell me?" asked the Master. "Yes, Sir," said the man. Said the Master, "Why have you ceased to strive, Brother? For a weak and slothful man there is in this religion no high fruition, no sainthood: they only who make strenuous effort accomplish this. In days long gone by you were full of strength, easy to teach: and in this way, though the youngest of all the hundred sons of the king of Benares, by holding fast to the admonition of wise men you obtained the White Umbrella." So saying, he told a story of the past.

Once upon a time, when Brahmadatta was king in Benares, the youngest of his hundred sons was named Prince Saṁvara. The king gave his sons in charge each of a separate courtier, with directions to teach them each what they ought to learn. The courtier who instructed the Prince Saṁvara was the Bodhisatta, wise, learned, filling a father's place to the king's son. As each of the sons was educated, the courtiers brought them for the king to see. The king gave them each a province, and let them go.

When the Prince Saṁvara had been perfected in all learning, he asked the Bodhisatta, "Dear father, if my father sends me to a province, what am I to do?" He replied, "My son, when a province is offered you, you should refuse it, and say, My lord, I am the youngest of all: if I go too, there will be no one about your feet: I will remain where I am, at your feet." Then one day, when Prince Saṁvara had saluted him, and was standing on one side, the king asked him, "Well, my son, have you finished your learning?" "Yes, my lord." "Choose a province." "My lord, 1 2 3 there will be emptiness about your feet: let me remain here at your feet, and in no other place!" The king was pleased, and consented.

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After that he remained there at the king's feet; and again asked the Bodhisatta, "What else am I to do, father?" "Ask the king," said he, "for some old park." The prince complied, and asked for a park: with the fruits and flowers that there grew he made friends with the powerful men in the city. Again he asked what he was to do. "Ask the king's leave, my son," said the Bodhisatta, "to distribute the food-money within the city." So he did, and without the least neglect of any person he distributed the food-money within the city. Again he asked the Bodhisatta's advice, and after soliciting the king's consent, distributed food within the palace to the servitors and the horses and to the army, without any omission: to messengers come from foreign countries he assigned their lodging and so forth, for merchants he fixed the taxes, all that had to be arranged he did alone. Thus following the advice of the Great Being, he made friends with every body, those in the household and those without, all in the city, the subjects of the kingdom, strangers, by his winsomeness binding them to him as it were by a band of iron: to all of them he was dear and beloved.

When in due time the king lay on his deathbed, the courtiers asked him, "When you are dead, my lord, to whom shall we give the White Umbrella?" "Friends," said he, "all my sons have a right to the White Umbrella. But you may give it to him that pleases your mind." So after his death, and when the obsequies had been performed, on the seventh day they gathered together, and said: "Our king bade us give the Umbrella to him that pleases our mind. He that our mind desires is Prince Saṁvara." Over him therefore they uplifted the White Umbrella with its festoons of gold, escorted by his kinsmen.

The Great King Saṁvara cleaving to the advice of the Bodhisatta reigned in righteousness.

The other ninety and nine princes heard that their father was dead, and that the Umbrella had been uplifted over Saṁvara. 1 3 "But he is the youngest of all," said they; "the Umbrella does not belong to him. Let us uplift the Umbrella over the eldest of us all." They all joined forces, and sent a letter to Saṁvara, bidding him resign the Umbrella or fight; then they surrounded the city. The king told this news to the Bodhisatta, and asked what he was to do now. He answered: "Great King, you must not fight with your brothers. Divide the treasure belonging to your father into a hundred portions, and to your brothers send ninety-nine of them, with this message, "Accept this share of your father's treasure, for fight with you I will not." So he did.

Then the eldest of all the brothers, Prince Uposatha by name, summoned the rest together, and said to them, "Friends, there is no one able to overcome the king; and this our youngest brother, though he has been our enemy, does not remain so: but he sends us his wealth, and refuses to

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fight with us. Now we cannot all uplift the Umbrella at the same moment; let us uplift it over one only, and let him alone be king; so when we see him, we will hand over the royal treasure to him, and return to our own provinces." Then all these princes raised the siege of the city, and entered it, foes no longer. And the king told his courtiers to welcome them, and sent them to meet the princes. The princes with a great following entered on foot, and mounting the steps of the palace, and using all humility towards the great king Saṁvara, sat down in a lowly place. King Saṁvara was seated under the White Umbrella upon a throne: great magnificence was his, and great pomp; what place soever he looked upon, trembled and quaked. Prince Uposatha seeing the magnificence of the mighty king Saṁvara, thought to himself, "Our father, methinks, knew that Prince Saṁvara would be king after his decease, and therefore gave us provinces and gave him none;" then addressing him, repeated three stanzas:


"Your nature, mighty monarch, sure the lord of men well knew:
The other princes honoured he, but nothing gave to you.

"While the king lived was it, or when a god to heaven he went,
That seeing their own benefit, your kinsmen gave consent?

"Say by what power, O Saṁvara, you stand above your kin:
Why do your brethren not unite from you the place to win?"

On hearing this, King Saṁvara repeated six stanzas to explain his own character:

"Because, O prince, I never grudge great sages what is meet:
Ready to pay them honour due, I fall before their feet.

"Me envying none, and apt to learn all conduct meet and right,
Wise sages each good precept teach in which they take delight.

"I listen to the bidding of these sages great and wise:
My heart is bent to good intent, no counsel I despise.

"Elephant troops and chariotmen, guard royal, infantry—
I took no toll of daily dole, but paid them all their fee.

"Great nobles and wise counsellors waiting on me are found;
With food, wine, water (so they boast) Benares doth abound.

[135] "Thus merchants prosper, and from many a realm they come and go,
And I protect them. Now the truth, Uposatha, you know."

Prince Uposatha listened to this account of his character, and then repeated two stanzas:

"Then be above your kith and kin, and rule in righteousness,
So wise and prudent, Saṁvara, your brethren you shall bless.

"Your treasure-heaps your brethren will defend, and you shall be
Safe from your foes as Indra's self from his arch enemy 1."

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[136] King Saṁvara gave great honour to all his brothers. They remained with him a month and half a month; then they said to him, "Great King, we would go and see if there be any brigands afoot in our provinces; all happiness to your rule!" They departed each to his province. And the king abode by the admonition of the Bodhisatta, and at the end of his days went to swell the hosts of heaven.

The Master, having finished this discourse, added, "Long ago, Brother, you followed instruction, and why do you not now sustain your effort?" Then he declared the Truths and identified the Birth: (now at the conclusion of the Truths this Brother was established in the fruit of the First Path:) "At that time this Brother was the great king Saṁvara, Sāriputta was Prince Uposatha, the Elders and secondary Elders were the other brothers, the Buddha's followers were their followers, and I myself was the courtier who advised the king."


82:1 This last incident is an addition to the narrative in the Rāmāyana, ii. 115, nor is it found in Tulsī Dās’ Hindi version.

82:2 Kambugīvo: three folds on the neck, like shell-spirals, were a token of luck.

82:3 Gotama Buddha's father and mother.

82:4 Gotama Buddha's wife.

83:1 An arhat is called apado, sc. devoid of conditions for rebirth, such as human passion, desire, karma, kleça, &c. (Childers, p. 313); padaparamo seems to mean the opposite.

83:2 The quotation should include Jetavanaṁ. gantvā, as is shown by line 7.

85:1 The King of the Asuras or Titans.

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No. 463.


"Men with razor pointed," etc. This story the Master told while dwelling at Jetavana, about the Perfection of Knowledge. One day, we are told, at evening, the Brethren were awaiting the coming of the Tathāgata to preach to them, and as they sat in the Hall of Truth, they were saying one to another, "Verily, Brother, the Master has great wisdom! wide wisdom! ready wisdom! swift wisdom! sharp wisdom! penetrating wisdom! His wisdom hits on the right plan for the right moment; wide as the world, like a mighty ocean unfathomable, as the heavens spread abroad: in all India no wise man exists who can match the Dasabala. As a billow that rises upon the great sea cannot reach the shore, or if it reaches the shore it breaks; 1 3 so no man can reach the Dasabala in wisdom, or if he comes to the Master's feet he is broken." In these words they sang the praises of the Dasabala's Perfect Wisdom. The Master came in, and asked, "What are you talking of, Brethren, as you sit here?" They told him. He said, "Not now only is the Tathāgata full of wisdom. In former days, even when his knowledge was immature, he was wise. Blind though he was, he knew by the signs of the ocean that in the ocean such and such a jewel was hid." Then he told a story of the past.

Once upon a time, a king named Bharu reigned in the kingdom of Bharu. There was a seaport town named Bharukaccha, or the Marsh of Bharu. At that time the Bodhisatta was born into the family of a master

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mariner there; amiable he was, and of complexion a golden brown. They gave him the name of Suppāraka-kumāra. He grew up with great distinction; and even when he was no more than sixteen years old, he had gained a complete mastery over the art of seamanship. Afterwards when his father died he became the head of the mariners and plied the mariner's calling: wise he was, and full of intelligence; with him aboard, no ship came ever to harm.

In time it so happened that injured by the salt water both his eyes lost their sight. After which, head of the mariners though he was, he plied no more the mariner's trade; but resolved to live in the king's service, he approached the king to that end. And the king appointed him to the office of valuer and assessor. From that time he assessed the worth of valuable elephants, valuable horses, choice pearls and gems.

One day an elephant was brought to the king, of the colour of a black rock, that he might be the state elephant. The king gave him a glance, and commanded that he be shown to the wise man. They led the creature before him. The man passed his hand over the elephant's body, and said, "This elephant is not fit to be the elephant of state. This has the qualities of an elephant that is deformed behind. When his dam brought him forth, she could not take him on her shoulder; so she let him fall on the ground, and thus he became deformed in his hind feet." They questioned those who had brought the elephant; and they replied that the wise man spoke the truth. 1 3 When the king heard of this, he was pleased, and ordered eight pieces of money to be given him.

On another day, a horse was brought for the king's horse of state. This too was sent to the wise man. He felt it all over with his hand, and then said, "This is not fit to be the king's state charger. On the day this horse was born, his dam died, and so for lack of the mare's milk he did not grow properly." This saying of his was true also. When the king heard of it, he was pleased, and caused him to be presented with eight pieces more.

Another day, a chariot was brought, to be the king's state chariot. This too the king sent to him. He felt it over with his hand and said, "This chariot was made out of a hollow tree, and therefore it is not fit for the king." This saying of his was true like the others. The king was pleased again when he heard of it, and gave him other eight pieces.

Then again they brought him a precious rug of great price, which the king sent to the man as before. He felt it all over, and said, "There is one place here where a rat has bitten a hole." They examined and found the place, and then told the king. Pleased was the king, and ordered eight pieces to be given him again.

Now the man thought, "Only eight pieces of money, with such marvels as these to see! This is a barber's gift; this king must be a barber's

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brat. Why should I serve such a king? I will return to my own home." So back he went to the seaport of Bharukaccha, and there he lived.

It happened that some merchants had got ready a ship, and were casting about for a skipper. "That clever Suppāraka," thought they, "is a wise and skilful man; with him aboard no ship comes to harm. Blind though he be, the wise Suppāraka is the best." So to him they repaired, and asked him to be their skipper. "Blind am I, friends," he replied, "and how can I sail your ship?" "Blind you may be, master," said the merchants, "but you are the best." As they pressed him unceasingly, he at length consented: "As you put it to me," says he, "I will be your skipper." 1 3 Then he went aboard their vessel.

They sailed in their ship upon the high seas. For seven days the ship sailed without mishap: then an unseasonable wind arose. Four months the vessel tost about on a primeval ocean, until she arrived at what is called the Khuramāla Sea 1. Here fish with bodies like men, and sharp razor-like snouts, dive in and out of the water. The merchants observing these asked the Great Being what that sea was named, repeating the first stanza:

"Men with razor-pointed noses rising up and diving down!
Speak, Suppāraka, and tell us by what name this sea is known?"

The Great Being, at this question, conning over in mind his mariner's lore, answered by repeating the second stanza:

"Merchants come from Bharukaccha, seeking riches to purvey,
This is Khuramāli 2 ocean where your ship has gone astray."

Now it happens that in this ocean diamonds are to be found. The Great Being reflected, that if he told them this was a diamond sea, they would sink the ship in their greed by collecting the diamonds. So he told them nothing; but having brought the ship to, he got a rope, and lowered a net as if to catch fish. With this he brought in a haul of diamonds, and stored them in the ship; then he caused the wares of little value to be cast overboard.

The ship past over this sea, and came to another called Aggimāla. This sea sent forth a radiance like a blazing bonfire, like the sun at midday. The merchants questioned him in this stanza:

"Lo! an ocean like a bonfire blazing, like the sun, we see!
Speak, Suppāraka, and tell us what the name of this may be?"

The Great Being replied to them in the stanza next following:


"Merchants come from Bharukaccha, seeking riches to purvey,
This is Aggimāli 2 ocean where your ship has gone astray."

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Now in this sea was abundance of gold. In the same manner as before, he got a haul of gold from it, and laid it aboard. Passing over this sea, the ship next came to an ocean called Dadhimāla, gleaming like milk or curds. The merchants enquired its same in a stanza:

"Lo! an ocean white and milky, white as curds we seem to see!
Speak, Suppāraka, and tell us what the name of this may be?"

The Great Being answered them by the stanza next following:

"Merchants come from Bharukaccha, seeking riches to purvey,
This is Dadhimāli 1 ocean where your ship has gone astray."

In this sea there was abundance of silver. He procured it in the same way as before, and laid it aboard. Over this sea the ship sailed, and came to an ocean called Nīlavaṇṇakusa-māla, which had the appearance of a stretch of dark kusa-grass 2, or a field of corn. The merchants enquired its name in a stanza:

"Lo! an ocean green and grassy, like young corn we seem to see!
Speak, Suppāraka, and tell us what the name of this may be?"

He replied in the words of the stanza next following:

"Merchants come from Bharukaccha, seeking riches to purvey,
This is Kusamāli ocean where your ship has gone astray."

Now in this ocean was a great quantity of precious emeralds. As before, he made a haul of them, and stored them on board. Passing over this sea, the ship came to a sea called Nalamāla, which had the aspect of an expanse of reeds or a grove of bamboos 3. 1 4 The merchants asked its name in a stanza:

"Lo! an ocean like a reed-bed, like a bamboo-grove we see!
Speak, Suppāraka, and tell us what the name of this may be?"

The Great Being replied by the following stanza:

"Merchants come from Bharukaccha, seeking riches to purvey,
This is Nalamāli 1 ocean where your ship has gone astray."

Now this ocean was full of coral of the colour of bamboos 3. He made a haul of this also and got it aboard.

After passing the Nalamāli Sea, the merchants came to a sea named Vaḷabhāmukha 4. Here the water is sucked away and rises on every

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side; and the water thus sucked away on all sides rises in sheer precipices leaving what looks like a great pit. A wave rises on one side like a wall: a terrific roar is heard, which seems as it would burst the ear and break the heart. On sight of this the merchants were terrified, and asked its name in a stanza:

"Hear the awful sound terrific of a huge unearthly sea!
Lo a pit, and to the waters in a steep declivity!
Speak, Suppāraka, and tell us what the name of this may be?"

The Bodhisatta replied in this following stanza, "Merchants," etc., ending—"This Valabhāmukhi ocean," etc.

He went on, 1 2 4 "Friends, once a ship has got into the Valabhāmukha Sea there is no returning. If this ship gets there, she will sink and go to destruction." Now there were seven hundred souls aboard this ship, and they were in fear of death; with one voice they uttered a very bitter cry, like the cry of those who are burning in the lowest hell 1. The Great Being thought, "Except me, no other can save those; I will save them by an Act of Truth." Then he said aloud, "Friends, bathe me speedily in scented water, and put new garments upon me, prepare a full bowl, and set me in front of the ship." They quickly did so. The Great Being took the full bowl in both hands, and standing in the front of the ship, performed an Act of Truth, repeating the final stanza:

"Since I can myself remember, since intelligence first grew,
Not one life of living creature have I taken, that I knew:
May this ship return to safety if my solemn words are true!"

Four months the vessel had been voyaging in far distant regions; and now as though endued with supernatural power, it returned in one single day to the seaport town of Bharukaccha, and even upon the dry land it went, till it rested before the mariner's door, having sprung over a space of eleven hundred cubits. The Great Being divided amongst the merchants all the gold and silver, jewels, coral, and diamonds, saying, 1 3 4 "This treasure is enough for you: voyage on the sea no more." Then he discoursed to them; and after giving gifts and doing good his life long, he went to swell the hosts of heaven.

The Master, having ended this discourse, said, "Then, Brethren, the Tathāgata was most wise in former days, as he is now," and identified the Birth: "At that time the Buddha's company were the company (of merchants), and I myself was the wise Suppāraka."


86:1 Hardy, Manual of Buddhism, p. 13.

88:1 There is an account of the mythological seas which follow in Hardy, Manual of Buddhism, pp. 12 ff.

88:2 Sic.

89:1 Sic.

89:2 Poa Cynosuroides.

89:3 The scholiast explains that the sea was red, like the reeds called "scorpion-reed" or "crab-reed," which are red in colour: the word translated "bamboo" (velu) he says may also mean "coral." He adds that the haul was coral, which is also the word used at the end of the story (pavāḷo). The word so translated here is veluriyaṁ, which Childers renders "a kind of precious stone, perhaps lapis lazuli".

89:4 See Hardy, Manual, p. 13. It was a kind of hollow like a saucer.

90:1 Avici.

The Jataka, Vol. IV: No. 464.: Culla-Kuṇāla-Jātaka.

The Jataka, Vol. IV, tr. by W.H.D. Rouse, [1901], at

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No. 464.


[144] "Small of wit," etc.—This birth will be given under the Kuṇāla Birth. 1

The Jataka, Vol. IV: No. 465.: Bhadda-Sāla-Jātaka.

The Jataka, Vol. IV, tr. by W.H.D. Rouse, [1901], at

No. 465.


"Who art thou," etc. This story the Master told while dwelling in Jetavana about doing good to one's kith and kin. At Sāvatthi in the house of Anāthapiṇḍika there was always unfailing food for five hundred Brethren, and the same with Visākhā 3 and the king of Kosala. But in the king's palace, various and fine as was the fare given, no one was friendly to the Brethren. The result was that the Brethren never ate in the palace, but they took their food and went off to eat it at the house of Anāthapiṇḍika or Visākhā or some other of their trusted friends.

One day the king said, "A present has been brought: take this to the Brethren," and sent it to the refectory. An answer was brought that no Brethren were there in the refectory. "Where are they gone?" he asked. They were sitting in their friends' houses to eat, was the reply. So the king after his morning meal came into the Master's presence, and asked him, "Good Sir, what is the best kind of food?" "The food of friendship is the best, great king," said he; "even sour rice-gruel given by a friend becomes sweet." "Well, Sir, and with whom do the Brethren find friendship?" "With their kindred, great king, or with the Sakya families." Then the king thought, what if he were to make a Sakya girl his queen-consort: then the Brethren would be his friends, as it were with their own kindred.

[145] So rising from his seat, he returned to the palace, and sent a message

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to Kapilavatthu 1 to this effect: "Please give me one of your daughters in marriage, for I wish to become connected with your family." On receipt of this message the Sakyas gathered together and deliberated. "We live in a place subject to the authority of the king of Kosala; if we refuse a daughter, he will be very angry, and if we give her, the custom of our clan will be broken. What are we to do?" Then Mahānāma 2 said to them, "Do not trouble about it. I have a daughter, named Vāsabhakhattiyā. Her mother is a slave woman, Nāgamuṇḍā by name; she is some sixteen years of age, of great beauty and auspicious prospects, and by her father's side noble 3. We will send her, as a girl nobly born." The Sakyas agreed, and sent for the messengers, and said they were willing to give a daughter of the clan, and that they might take her with them at once. But the messengers reflected, "These Sakyas are desperately proud, in matters of birth. Suppose they should send a girl who was not of them, and say that she was so? We will take none but one who eats along with them." So they replied, "Well, we will take her, but we will take one who eats along with you."

The Sakyas assigned a lodging for the messengers, and then wondered what to do. Mahānāma said: "Now do not trouble about it; I will find a way. At my mealtime bring in Vāsabhakhattiyā drest up in her finery; then just as I have taken one mouthful, produce a letter, and say, My lord, such a king has sent you a letter; be pleased to hear his message at once."

They agreed; and as he was taking his meal they drest and adorned the maid. "Bring my daughter," said Mahānāma, "and let her take food with me." "In a moment," said they, "as soon as she is properly adorned," and after a short delay they brought her in. Expecting to take food with her father, she dipt her hand into the same dish. Mahānāma had taken one mouthful with her, and put it in his mouth; but just as he stretched out his hand for another, they brought him a letter, saying, "My lord, such a king has sent a letter to you: be pleased to hear his message at once." Said Mahānāma, "Go on with your meal, my dear," 1 4 6 and holding his right hand in the dish, with his left took the letter and looked at it. As he examined the message the maiden went on eating. When she had eaten, he washed his hand and rinsed out his mouth. The messengers were firmly convinced that she was his daughter, for they did not divine the secret.

So Mahānāma sent away his daughter in great pomp. The messengers brought her to Sāvatthi, and said that this maiden was the true-born daughter of Mahānāma. The king was pleased, and caused the whole city to be decorated, and placed her upon a pile of treasure, and by a ceremonial sprinkling made her his chief queen. She was dear to the king, and beloved.

In a short time the queen conceived, and the king caused the proper treatment to be used; and at the end of ten months, she brought forth a son whose colour was a golden brown. On the day of his naming, the king sent a message to his grandmother, saying, "A son has been born to Vāsabhakhattiyā, daughter of the Sakya king; what shall his name be?" Now the courtier who was charged with this message was slightly deaf; but he went and told the king's grandmother. When she heard it, she said, "Even when Vāsabhakhattiyā had never borne a son, she was more than all the world; and now she will be the king's darling 4." The deaf man did not hear the word "darling" aright, but thought she said "Viḍūḍabha; "so back he went to the king, and told him that he was to name the prince Viḍūḍabha. This, the king thought, must be some ancient family name, and so named him Viḍūḍabha.

After this the prince grew up treated as a prince should be.

When he was at the age of seven years, having observed how the other princes received presents of toy elephants and horses and other toys from the family of their mothers' fathers, the lad said to his mother, "Mother, the

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rest of them get presents from their mothers' family, but no one sends me anything. Are you an orphan?" Then she replied, "My boy, your grandsires are the Sakya kings, but they live a long way off, and that is why they send you nothing." Again when he was sixteen, he said, "Mother, I want to see your father's family." "Don't speak of it, child," she said. "What will you do when you get there?" But though she put him off, he asked her again and again. At last his mother said, 1 4 "Well, go then." So the lad got his father's consent, and set out with a number of followers. Vāsabhakhattiyā sent on a letter before him to this effect: "I am living here happily; let not my masters tell him anything of the secret." But the Sakyas, on hearing of the coming of Viḍūḍabha, sent off all their young children into the country. "It is impossible," said they, "to receive him with respect."

When the Prince arrived at Kapilavatthu, the Sakyas had assembled in the royal rest-house. The Prince approached the rest-house, and waited. Then they said to him, "This is your mother's father, this is her brother," pointing them out. He walked from one to the other, saluting them. But although he bowed to them till his back ached, not one of them vouchsafed a greeting; so he asked, "Why is it that none of you greet me?" The Sakyas replied, "My dear, the youngest princes are all in the country;" then they entertained him grandly.

After a few days' stay, he set out for home with all his retinue. Just then a slave woman washed the seat which he had used in the rest-house with milk-water, saying insultingly, "Here's the seat where sat the son of Vāsabhakhattiyā, the slave girl!" A man who had left his spear behind was just fetching it, when he overheard the abuse of Prince Viḍūḍabha. He asked what it meant. He was told that Vāsabhakhattiyā was born of a slave to Mahānāma the Sakya. This he told to the soldiers: a great uproar arose, all shouting—"Vāsabhakhattiyā is a slave woman's daughter, so they say!" The Prince heard it. "Yes," thought he, "let them pour milk-water over the seat I sat in, to wash it! When I am king, I will wash the place with their hearts' blood!"

When he returned to Sāvatthi, the courtiers told the whole matter to the king. The king was enraged against the Sakyas for giving him a slave's daughter to wife. He cut off all allowances made to Vāsabhakhattiyā and her son, and gave them only what is proper to be given to slave men and women.

Some few days later the Master came to the palace, and took a seat. The king approached him, and with a greeting said, "Sir, I am told that your clansmen gave me a slave's daughter to wife. I have cut off their allowances, mother and son, and grant them only what slaves would get." Said the Master, "The Sakyas have done wrong, O great king! 1 4 If they gave any one, they ought to have given a girl of their own blood. But, O king, this I say: Vāsabhakhattiyā is a king's daughter, and in the house of a noble king she has received the ceremonial sprinkling; Viḍūḍabha too was begotten by a noble king. Wise men of old have said, what matters the mother's birth? The birth of the father is the measure: and to a poor wife, a picker of sticks, they gave the position of queen consort; and the son born of her obtained the sovereignty of Benares, twelve leagues in extent, and became King Kaṭṭha-vāhana, the Wood-carrier:" whereupon he told him the story of the Kaṭṭhahāri Birth 1.

When the king heard this speech he was pleased; and saying to himself, "The father's birth is the measure of the man," he again gave mother and son the treatment suited to them.

Now the king's commander-in-chief was a man named Bandhula. His wife, Mallikā, was barren, and he sent her away to Kusināra, telling her to return to her own family. "I will go," said she, "when I have saluted the Master." She went to Jetavana, and greeting the Tathāgata stood waiting on one side. "Where are you going?" he asked. She replied, "My husband has sent me home, Sir." "Why?" asked the Master. "I am barren, Sir, I have no son." "If that is all," said he, "there is no reason why you should go. Return." She was much pleased, and saluting the Master went home again. Her husband

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asked her why she had come back. She answered, "The Dasabala sent me back, my lord." "Then," said the commander-in-chief, "the Tathāgata must have seen good reason." The woman soon after conceived, and when her cravings began, told him of it. "What is it you want?" he asked. "My lord," said she, "I desire to go and, bathe and drink the water of the tank in Vesāli City where the families of the kings get water for the ceremonial sprinkling." The commander-in-chief promised to try. Seizing his bow, strong as a thousand bows, he put his wife in a chariot, and left Sāvatthi, and drove his chariot to Vesālī.

Now at this time there lived close to the gate a Licchavi named Mahāli 1, who had been educated by the same teacher as the king of Kosala's general, Bandhula. This man was blind, and used to advise the Licchavis on all matters temporal and spiritual. Hearing the clatter of the chariot as it went over the threshold, he said, "The noise of the chariot of Bandhula the Mallian! 1 4 This day there will be fear for the Licchavis!" By the tank there was set a strong guard, within and without; above it was spread an iron net; not even a bird could find room to get through. But the general, dismounting from his car, put the guards to flight with the blows of his sword, and burst through the iron network, and in the tank bathed his wife and gave her to drink of the water; then after bathing himself, he set Mallikā in the chariot, and left the town, and went back by the way he came.

The guards went and told all to the Licchavis. Then were the kings of the Licchavis angry; and five hundred of them, mounted in five hundred chariots, departed to capture Bandhula the Mallian. They informed Mahāli of it, and he said, "Go not! for he will slay you all." But they said, "Nay, but we will go." "Then if you come to a place where a wheel has sunk up to the nave, you must return. If you return not then, return back from that place when you hear the noise of a thunderbolt. If then you turn not, turn back from that place where you shall see a hole in front of your chariots. Go no further!" But they did not turn back according to his word, but pursued on and on. Mallikā espied them and said, "There are chariots in sight, my lord." "Then tell me," said he, "when they all look like one chariot." When they all in a line looked like one, she said, "My lord, I see as it were the head of one chariot." "Take the reins, then," said he, and gave the reins into her hand: he stood upright in the chariot, and strung his bow. The chariot-wheel sank into the earth nave-deep. The Licchavis came to the place, and saw it, but turned not back. The other went on a little further, and twanged the bow string; then came a noise as the noise of a thunderbolt, yet even then they turned not, but pursued on and on. Bandhula stood up in the chariot and sped a shaft, and it cleft the heads of all the five hundred chariots, and passed right through the five hundred kings in the place where the girdle is fastened, and then buried itself in the earth. They not perceiving that they were wounded pursued still, shouting, "Stop, holloa, stop!" Bandhula stopt his chariot, and said, "You are dead men, and I cannot fight with the dead." "What!" said they, "dead, such as we now are?" "Loose the girdle of the first man," said Bandhula.

[150] They loosed his girdle, and at the instant the girdle was loosed, he fell dead. Then he said to them, "You are all of you in the same condition: go to your homes, and set in order what should be ordered, and give your directions to your wives and families, and then doff your armour." They did so, and then all of them gave up the ghost  2.

And Bandhula conveyed Mallikā to Sāvatthi. She bore twin sons sixteen times in succession, and they were all mighty men and heroes, and became perfected in all manner of accomplishments. Each one of them had a thousand

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men to attend him, and when they went with their father to wait on the king, they alone filled the courtyard of the palace to overflowing.

One day some men who had been defeated in court on a false charge, seeing Bandhula approach, raised a great outcry, and informed him that the judges of the court had supported a false charge. So Bandhula went into the court, and judged the case, and gave each man his own. The crowd uttered loud shouts of applause. The king asked what it meant, and on hearing was much pleased; all those officers he sent away, and gave Bandhula charge of the judgement court, and thenceforward he judged aright. Then the former judges became poor, because they no longer received bribes, and they slandered Bandhula in the king's ear, accusing him of aiming at the kingdom himself. The king listened to their words, and could not control his suspicions. "But," he reflected, "if he be slain here, I shall be blamed." He suborned certain men to harry the frontier districts; then sending for Bandhula, he said, "The borders are in a blaze; go with your sons and capture the brigands." With him he also sent other men sufficient, mighty men of war, with instructions to kill him and his two-and-thirty sons, and cut off their heads, and bring them back.

While he was yet on the way, the hired brigands got wind of the general's coming, and took to flight. He settled the people of that district in their homes, and quieted the province, and set out for home. Then when he was not far from the city, those warriors cut off his head and the heads of his sons.

On that day Mallikā had sent an invitation to the two chief disciples along with five hundred of the Brethren. Early in the forenoon a letter was brought to her, with news that her husband and sons had lost their heads. 1 5 When she heard this, without a word to a soul, she tucked the letter in her dress, and waited upon the company of the Brethren. Her attendants had given rice to the Brethren, when bringing in a bowl of ghee they happened to break the bowl just in front of the Elders. Then the Captain of the Faith said, "Pots are made to be broken; do not trouble about it." The lady produced her letter from the fold of her dress, saying, "Here I have a letter informing me that my husband and his two-and-thirty sons have been beheaded. If I do not trouble about that, am I likely to trouble when a bowl is broken?" The Captain of the Faith now began, "Unseen, unknown 1," and so forth, then rising from his seat uttered a discourse, and went home. She summoned her two-and-thirty daughters-in-law, and to them said, "Your husbands, though innocent, have reaped the fruit of their former deeds. Do not you grieve, nor commit a sin of the soul worse even than the king's." This was her advice. The king's spies hearing this speech brought word to him that they were not angry. Then the king was distrest, and went to her dwelling, and craving pardon of Mallikā and her sons' wives, offered a boon. She replied, "Be it accepted." She set out the funeral feast, and bathed, and then went before the king. "My lord," said she, "you granted me a boon. I want nothing but this, that you permit my two-and-thirty daughters-in-law and me to go back to our own homes." The king consented. Each of her two-and-thirty sons' wives she sent away to her home, and herself returned to the home of her family in the city of Kusināra. And the king gave the post of commander-in-chief to one Dīgha-kārāyana, sister's son to the general Bandhula. But he went about picking faults in the king and saying, "He murdered my uncle."

Ever after the murder of the innocent Bandhula the king was devoured by remorse, and had no peace of mind, felt no joy in being king. At that time the Master dwelt near a country town of the Sakyas, named Uḷumpa. Thither went the king, pitched a camp not far from the park, and with a few attendants went to the monastery to salute the Master. The five symbols of royalty 2 he handed to Kārāyana, and alone entered the Perfumed Chamber. All that followed must be described as in the Dhammacetiya Sutta. When he

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entered the Perfumed Chamber, Kārāyana took those symbols of royalty, 1 2 5 and made Viḍūḍabha king; and leaving behind for the king one horse and a serving woman, he went to Sāvatthi.

After a pleasant conversation with the Master, the king on his return saw no army. He enquired of the woman, and learnt what had been done. Then set out for the city of Rājagaha, resolved to take his nephew with him 1, and capture Viḍūḍabha. It was late when he came to the city, and the gates were shut: and lying down in a shed, exhausted by exposure to wind and sun, he died there.

When the night began to grow brighter, the woman began to wail, "My lord, the king of Kosala is past help!" The sound was heard, and news came to the king. He performed the obsequies of his uncle with great magnificence.

Viḍūḍabha once firmly established on the throne remembered that grudge of his, and determined to destroy the Sakyas one and all; to which end he set out with a large army. That day at dawn the Master, looking forth over the world, saw destruction threatening his kin. "I must help my kindred," thought he. In the forenoon he went in search of alms, then after returning from his meal lay down lion-like in his Perfumed Chamber, and in the evening-time, having past through the air to a spot near Kapilavatthu, sat beneath a tree that gave scanty shade. Hard by that place, a huge and shady banyan tree stood on the boundary of Viḍūḍabha's realms. Viḍūḍabha seeing the Master approached and saluting him, said, "Why, Sir, are sitting under so thin a tree in all this heat? Sit beneath this shady banyan, Sir." He replied, "Let be, O king! the shade of my kindred keeps me cool."—"The Master," thought the other, "must have come here to protect his clansmen." So he saluted the Master, and returned again to Sāvatthi. And the Master rising went to Jetavana. A second time the king called to mind his grudge against the Sakyas, a second time he set forth, and again saw the Master seated in the same place, then again returned. A fourth time he set out; and the Master, scanning the former deeds of the Sakyas, perceived that nothing could do away with the effect of their evildoing, in casting poison into the river; so he did not go thither the fourth time. Then king Viḍūḍabha slew all the Sakyas, beginning with babes at the breast, and with their hearts' blood washed the bench, and returned.

On the day after the Master had gone out for the third time and returned, he, 1 3 5 having gone his rounds for alms, and his meal over, was resting in his Perfumed Chamber, the Brethren gathered from all directions into the Hall of Truth, and seating themselves, began to tell of the virtues of the Great Being:."Sirs, the Master but showed himself, and turned the king back, and set free his kinsmen from fear of death. A helpful friend is the Master to his clan!" The Master entered, and asked what they talked of as they sat there. They told him. Then he said, "Not now only, Brethren, does the Tathāgata act for the benefit of his kinsmen; he did the same long ago." With these words, he told a story of the past.

Once upon a time, when Brahmadatta ruled as king in Benares, and observed the Ten Royal Virtues, he thought to himself: "All over India the kings live in palaces supported by many a column. There is no marvel, then, in a palace supported by many columns; but what if I make a palace with one column only to support it? Then I shall be the chiefest king of all kings!" So he summoned his builders, and told them to build him a magnificent palace supported on one column. "Very good," said they, and away they went into the forest.

There they beheld many a tree, straight and great, worthy to be the

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single column of such a palace."Here are these trees," said they, "but the road is rough, and we can never transport them; we will go ask the king about it." When they did so, the king said, "By hook or by crook you must bring them, and that quickly." But they answered, "Neither by hook nor by crook can the thing be done." "Then," said the king, "search for a tree in my park."

The builders went to the park, and there they espied a lordly sal tree, straight and well grown, worshipt by village and town, and to it the royal family also were wont to pay tribute and worship; and they told the king. Said the king, "In my park ye have found me a tree: good—go and cut it down." "So be it," said they, and repaired to the park, with their hands full of perfumed garlands and the like; then hanging upon it a five-spray garland 1, and encircling it with a string, fastening to it a nosegay of flowers, and kindling a lamp, they did worship, explaining, 1 4 5 "On the seventh day from now we shall cut down this tree: it is the king's command so to cut it down. Let the deities who dwell in this tree go elsewhither, and not unto us be the blame."

The god who dwelt in the tree bearing this, thought to himself: "These builders are determined to cut down this tree, and to destroy my place of dwelling. Now my life only lasts as long as this my abiding place. And all the young sal trees that stand around this, where dwell the deities my kinsfolk, and they are many, will be destroyed. My own destruction does not touch me so near as the destruction of my children: therefore I must protect their lives." Accordingly at the hour of midnight, adorned in divine splendour, he entered into the magnificent chamber of the king, and filling the whole chamber with a bright radiance, stood weeping beside the king's pillow. At sight of him the king, overcome by terror, uttered the first stanza:

"Who art thou, standing high in air, with heavenly vesture swathed:
Whence come thy fears, why flow the tears in which thine eyes are bathed?"

On hearing which the king of the gods repeated two stanzas:

"Within thy realm, O King, they know me as the Lucky Tree:
For sixty thousand years I stood, and all have worshipt me.

"Though many a town and house they made, and many a king's dwelling,
Yet me they never did molest, to me no harm did bring:
Then even as they did worship pay, so worship thou, O King!"

[155] Then the king repeated two stanzas:

"But such another mighty trunk I never yet did see,
So fine a kind in girth and height, so thick and strong a tree.

"A lovely palace I will build, one column for support:
There I will place thee to abide—thy life shall not be short."

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On hearing this the king of the gods repeated two stanzas:

"Since thou art bent to tear my body from me, cut me small,
And cut me piecemeal limb from limb, O King, or not at all.


"Cut first the top, the middle next, then last the root of me:
And if thou cut me so, O King, death will not painful be."

Then the king repeated two stanzas:

"First hands and feet, then nose and ears, while yet the victim lives,
And last of all the head let fall—a painful death this gives.

"O Lucky Tree! O woodland king! what pleasure couldst thou feel,
Why, for what reason dost thou wish to be cut up piecemeal?"

Then the Lucky Tree answered by repeating two stanzas:

"The reason (and a reason ’tis full noble) why piecemeal
I would be cut, O mighty king! come listen while I tell.

"My kith and kin all prospering round me well-sheltered grow:
These I should crush by one huge fall,—and great would be their woe."

[157] The king, hearing this, was much pleased:"’Tis a worthy god this," thought he, "he does not wish that his kinsfolk should lose their dwelling-place because he loses his; he acts for his kinsfolk's good." And he repeated the remaining stanza:

"O Lucky Tree! O woodland king! thy thoughts must noble be:
Thou wouldst befriend thy kindred, so from fear I set thee free."

The king of the gods, having discoursed to this king, then departed. And the king being established according to his admonition, gave gifts and did other good deeds, till he went to fill the hosts of heaven.

The Master having ended this discourse said: "Thus it is, Brethren, that the Tathāgata acts so as to do good to his kith and kin;" and then he identified the Birth: "At that time Ānanda was the king, the followers of the Buddha were the deities which were embodied in the young saplings of the sal tree, and I was myself Lucky Tree, the king of the gods."


91:1 No. 536.

91:2 For the Introductory story see Dhammapada (commentary), pp. 216 ff.

91:3 A famous female disciple, for whose history see Hardy, Manual, 220 ff.

92:1 Headquarters of the Sakya clan, and Buddha's birthplace.

92:2 A Sakya prince: see Hardy, Manual, 227.

92:3 Khattiya.

92:4 Vallabhā.

93:1 No. 7.

94:1 Called Mahā-licchavi in Dhammapada (p. 219).

94:2 This is a variation of a well-known incident. A headsman slices off a man's head so skilfully, that the victim does not know it is done. The victim then takes a pinch of snuff, sneezes, and his head falls off. Another form is: Two men dispute, and one swings his sword round. They go on talking, and by and bye the other gets up to depart, and falls in two parts.

95:1 Sutta-Nipāta 574: "Unseen, unknown, is the life of men here below:" and so forth, for twenty stanzas. This is the Sallasutta.

95:2 See above, p. 80 note.

96:1 The quotation should begin at bhāgineyyām, since the king was alone.

97:1 See note in vol. ii. p. 72.

The Jataka, Vol. IV: No. 466.: Samudda-Vāṇija-Jātaka.

The Jataka, Vol. IV, tr. by W.H.D. Rouse, [1901], at

No. 466.


[158] "Others sow," etc.—This story the Master told while dwelling at Jetavana, about Devadatta, when he had gone down into Hell, taking with him five hundred families.

p. 99

Now Devadatta, when the Chief Disciples 1 had gone away, taking his followers with them 2, being unable to swallow his pain, spat up hot blood from his mouth, and departed; then tormented by great agony, as he remembered the virtues of the Tathāgata, he said to himself, "I for nine months have thought evil of the Tathāgata, but in the Master's heart is never a sinful thought for me; in the eighty chief elders is no malice towards me; by my own deeds that I have done I am become all forlorn, and I am renounced by the Master, by the great Elders, by Elder Rāhula chief of my family 3, and by all the royal clans of the Sakyas. I will go to the Master, and reconcile myself with him." So beckoning to his followers, he caused himself to be carried in a litter, and travelling always by night made his way to the city of Kosala.

Ānanda the Elder told the Master, saying, "Devadatta is coming, they say, to make his peace with you."—"Ānanda, Devadatta shall not see me." Again when he had arrived at the city of Sāvatthi, the Elder told it to the Master; and the Blessed One replied as before. When he was at the gate of Jetavana, and moving towards the Jetavana lake, his sin came to a head: a fever arose in his body, and desiring to bathe and drink, he commanded them to let him out of the litter, that he might drink. No sooner had he alighted, and stood upon the ground, than before he could refresh himself the great earth gaped, a flame arose from the nethermost hell of Avīci and surrounded him. Then he knew that his deeds of sin had come to a head, and remembering the virtues of the Tathāgata, he repeated this stanza 4:

"With these my bones to that supremest Being,
Marked with an hundred lucky marks, all-seeing,
God, more than God, who man's bull-spirit tames,
With all my soul to Buddha I am fleeing!"

[paragraph continues] But in the very act of taking refuge, he was doomed to the Hell Avīci. And there were five hundred families of his attendants, which families following him reviled the Dasabala, and abused him, and in the Avici hell were born, they also. Thus he went to Avīci, taking with him five hundred families.

So one day they were talking in the Hall of Truth: "Brother, the sinful Devadatta, 1 5 through greed of gain, set his anger causelessly against the Supreme Buddha, and with no regard for the terrors of the future, with five hundred families was doomed to hell." The Master entering asked of what they were speaking: they told him. Said he, "Brethren, Devadatta being greedy of gain and honour had no eye for the terrors of the future; and in former times, as now, regarding not the terrors of the future, he with his followers through greed of present happiness came to utter ruin." So saying, he told them a story of the past.

Once upon a time, when Brahmadatta was king of Benares, there stood near Benares a great town of carpenters, containing a thousand families. The carpenters from this town used to profess that they would make a bed, or a chair, or a house, and after receiving a large advance from men's hands, they proved able to make nothing whatever. The people used to upbraid every carpenter they met with, and interfered

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with them. So those debtors were so much harassed that they could live there no longer. "Let us go into some foreign land," said they, "and find some place or other to dwell in;" so to the forest they went. They cut down trees, they built a mighty ship, and launched her in the river, and took her away from that town, and at a distance of some three-quarters of a league 1 they laid her up. Then in the middle of the night they returned to the town to fetch their families, whom they conveyed on board ship, and then proceeded in due course to the ocean. There they sailed at the wind's will, until they reached an island that lay in the midst of the sea. Now in that island grew wild all manner of plants and wild fruit-trees, rice, sugar-cane, banana, mango, rose-apple, jack, cocoanut, and what not. There was another man who had been shipwrecked and had taken possession of that island before them, and lived therein, eating the rice and enjoying the sugar-cane and all the rest, by which he had grown stout and sturdy; naked he went, and his hair and beard were grown long. The carpenters thought, "If yonder island is haunted of demons, we shall all perish; so we will explore it." Then seven brave men 1 6 and strong, arming them with the five kinds of weapons 2, disembarked and explored that island.

At that moment the castaway had just broken his fast, and drunk of the juice of the sugar-cane, and in high contentment was lying on his back in a lovely spot, cool in the shade on some sand which glistered like silver plate; and he was thinking, "No such happiness as this have they who dwell in India, that plough and sow; better to me is this island than India!" He sang for joy, and was at the height of bliss.

The Master, to explain how this castaway sang for joy and bliss, repeated the first stanza:

"Others sow and others plough,
Living by the sweat o’ the brow;
In my realm they have no share:
India? this is better far!"

The scouts who were exploring the isle caught the sound of his singing, and said, "It seems the voice of man that we hear; let us make acquaintance with him." Following the sound, they came upon the man, but his aspect horrified them. "’Tis a goblin!" they cried, and put arrow to bow. When the man saw them, he was in fear of being wounded, so he called out—"I am no goblin, sirs, but a man: spare my

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life!"—"What!" said they, "do men go all naked and defenceless like you?" and asked him again and again, only to receive the same answer, that he was a man. At last they approached him, and all began to talk pleasantly together, and the new-comers asked how he came thither. The other told them the truth of it. "As a reward for your good deeds you have come hither," said he, "this is a first-rate island. No need here to work with your hands for a living; of rice and sugar-cane, and all the rest, there is no end here, and all growing wild; you may live here without anxiety." "Is there nothing else," they asked, 1 6 "to hinder our living here?" "No fear is there but this: the isle is haunted by demons, and the demons would be incensed to see the excretions of your bodies; so when you would relieve yourselves, dig a hole in the sand and hide it there. That is the only danger; there is no other; only always be careful on this point."

Then they took up their abode in the place.

But among these thousand families there were two master workmen, one at the head of each five hundred of them; and one of these was foolish and greedy of the best food, the other wise and not bent on getting the best of everything.

In course of time as they continued to dwell there, all grew stout and sturdy. Then they thought, "We have not been merry men this long time 1: we will make some toddy from the juice of the sugar-cane." So they caused the strong drink to be made, and being drunken, sang, danced, sported, then in thoughtlessness relieved themselves here, there, and everywhere without hiding it, so that they made the island foul and disgusting. The deities were incensed because these men made their playing-place all foul. "Shall we bring the sea over it," they deliberated, "and cleanse the island?—This is the dark fortnight: now our gathering is broken up. Well, on the fifteenth day from now, at the first of the full moon, at the time of the moon's rising, we will bring up the sea and make an end of them all." Thus they fixed the day. At this a righteous deity who was one of them thought, "I would not that these should perish before my eyes." So in his compassion, at the time when the men were sitting at their doors in pleasant converse, after their evening meal, he made the whole island one blaze of light, and adorned in all splendour stayed poised in the air towards the north, and spoke to them thus: "O ye carpenters! the deities are wroth with you. Dwell no longer in this place, for in half a month from this time, the

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deities will bring up the sea, 1 2 6 and destroy you one and all. Therefore flee from this place." And he repeated the second stanza:

"In thrice five days the moon will rise to view:
Then from the sea a mighty flood is due
    This mighty island to o’erwhelm: then haste,
Elsewhere take shelter, that it hurt not you."

With this advice, he returned to his own place. He gone, another comrade of his, a cruel god, thought, "Perhaps they will follow his advice and escape; I will prevent their going, and bring them all to utter destruction." So adorned in divine splendour, he made a great blaze of light over the whole place, and approaching them, remained poised in the air towards the south, as he asked, "Has there been a god here?" "There has," was the reply. "What did he tell you?" They answered, "Thus and thus, my lord." He then said, "This god does not wish you to live here, and in anger speaks. Go not elsewhither, but stay even here." And with these words, he repeated two stanzas:

"To me by many signs it is made clear,
That mighty ocean flood of which you hear
    Shall never this great island overwhelm:
Then take your pleasure, grieve not, never fear.

"Here you have lit upon a wide abode,
Full of all things to eat, of drink and food;
    I see no danger for you: come, enjoy
Unto all generations this your good."

[163] Having thus in these two stanzas offered to relieve their anxiety, he departed. When he was gone, the foolish carpenter lifted up his voice, and paying no heed to the saying of the righteous deity, he cried, "Let your honours listen to me!" and addressed all the carpenters in the fifth stanza:

"That god, who from the southern quarter clear
Cries out, All safe! from him the truth we hear;
    Fear or fear not, the northern knows no whit:
Why grieve, then? take your pleasure—never fear!"

On hearing him, the five hundred carpenters who were greedy of good things inclined to the counsel of the foolish carpenter. But then the wise carpenter refused to hearken to his saying, and addressing the carpenters repeated four stanzas:

"While these two goblins gainst each other cry,
One calling fear, and one security,
    Come hear my rede, lest soon and out of hand
Ye all together perish utterly.

"Let us join all to build a mighty bark,
A vessel stout, and place within this ark
    All fittings: if this southern spoke the truth,
And the other said but folly, off the mark

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"This vessel for us good at need shall be;
    Nor will we leave this isle incontinent;
But if the northern god spake truthfully,
    The southern did but foolishness present—
1 4 6 Then in the ship we all embark together,
And where our safety lies, all hie us thither.

"Take not for best or worst what first you hear;
But whoso lets all pass within the ear,
And then deliberating takes the mean,
That man to safest harbourage will steer 1."

After this, he again said: "Come now, let us follow the words of both the deities. Let us build a ship, and then if the words of the first be true, into that ship we will climb and depart; but if the words of the other be true, we will put the ship out of the way, and dwell here." When he had thus spoken, said the foolish carpenter: 1 5 6 "Go to! you see a crocodile in a teacup! you are too-too slow! The first god spake in anger against us, the second in affection. If we leave this choicest of isles, whither shall we go? But if you needs must go, take your tail with you, and make your ship: we want no ship, we!"

The wise man with those that followed him, built a ship, and put all the fittings aboard, and he and the whole company stood in the ship. Then on the day of the full moon, at the time of moon-rising, up front the ocean a wave arose, and knee-deep it swept over the whole island. The wise man, when he observed the rising of the wave, cast loose the ship. Those of the foolish carpenter's party, five hundred families they were, sat still, saying to one another, "A wave has arisen, to sweep over the island, but it will be no deeper." Then the ocean-wave rose waist-deep, man-deep, deep as a palm-tree, as seven palm-trees, and over the whole island it rolled. The wise man, fertile in resource, not snared by greed of good things, departed in safety; but the foolish carpenter, greedy of good things, not regarding the fear of the future, with five hundred families was destroyed.

The other three stanzas, full of instruction, illustrating this matter, are stanzas of the Perfect Wisdom:

As through mid-ocean, by the deeds they did,
    The traders scaped away in happiness:
So wise men, comprehending what lies hid
    Within the future, will no jot transgress.

"Fools in their folly, eaten up with greed
    Who future dangers do not comprehend,
Sink overwhelmed, in face of present need,
    As these in middest-ocean found their end.

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"Accomplish then the deed before the need,
    Let not lack hurt me of the needful thing.
Who timely do the necessary deed
    Come time, come never into suffering."

When the Master had ended this discourse, he said: "Not now for the first time, Brethren, but formerly also, has Devadatta been ensnared by pleasures of the present, and without a look to the future, has come to destruction with all his companions." So saying, he identified the Birth: "At that time, Devadatta was the foolish carpenter, Kokālika was the unrighteous deity that stood in the southern region, Sāriputta was the deity who stood in the northern part, and I was myself the wise carpenter."


98:1 The introductory story is given in Dhammapada, p. 147 ff.

99:1 Sāriputta and Moggallāna.

99:2 Cf. Hardy, Buddhism, p. 328.

99:3 Devadatta was brother-in-law of the Buddha.

99:4 Dhammapada, p. 148.

100:1 See vol. ii. p. 147, note.

100:2 Sword, spear, bow, shield, axe.

101:1 There seems to be something wrong with the text: as it stands, the meaning is: "For a long time these have not been heroes." But the word sūro is used idiomatically, sūro hutvā "as bold as brass," i. 262. 30, ii. 119. 22. It might well be used of "Dutch courage."—Or perhaps surā (brandy) in some form may lurk here.

103:1 This metaphor is not in the Pali.

The Jataka, Vol. IV: No. 467.: Kāma-Jātaka.

The Jataka, Vol. IV, tr. by W.H.D. Rouse, [1901], at

No. 467.


[167] "He that desires," etc. This story the Master told while dwelling at Jetavana, about a certain brahmin.

A brahmin, so they say, who dwelt at Sāvatthi, was felling trees on the bank of the Aciravatī, in order to cultivate the land. The Master perceiving his destiny 2, when he visited Sāvatthi for alms, went out of his road to talk sweetly with him. "What are you doing, brahmin?" he asked."O Gotama," said the man, "I am cutting a space free for cultivation." "Very good," he replied, "go on with your work, brahmin." In the same manner the Master came and talked with him when the felled trunks were all away, and the man was clearing his acre, and again at plowing time, and at making the little embanked squares for water 3. Now on the day of sowing, the brahmin said, "To-day, O Gotama, is my plowing festival 4. When this corn is ripe, I will give alms in plenty to the Order, with the Buddha at their head." The Master accepted his offer, and went away. On another day he came, and saw the brahmin watching the corn. "What are you doing, brahmin?" asked he. "Watching the corn, O Gotama!" "Very good, brahmin," said the Master, and away he went. Then the brahmin thought, "How often Gotama the ascetic comes this way! Without doubt he wants food. Well, food I will give him." On the day when this thought came into his mind, when he went home, there he found the Master come also. Thereat arose in the brahmin a wondrous great confidence.

By and bye, when ripe was the corn, the brahmin resolved, to-morrow he would reap the field. But while he lay in bed, in the upper reaches of the Aciravatī the rain poured in bucketsful: down came a flood, and carried the whole crop away to the sea, so that not one stalk was left. When the flood

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subsided, and the Brahmin beheld the destruction of his crops, he had not the strength to stand: pressing his hand to his heart (for he was overcome with great sorrow) he went weeping home, and lay down lamenting. In the morning the Master saw this brahmin overwhelmed with his woe, and thought he, "I will be the brahmin's support." So next day, after his alms-round in Sāvatthi, on his return from receipt of food he sent the Brethren back to their monastery, and himself with the junior who attended him visited the man's house. 1 6 When the brahmin heard of his coming, he took heart, thinking—"My friend must be come for a kindly talk." He offered him a seat; the Master entering sat upon the seat indicated, and asked, "Why are you downhearted, brahmin? what has happened to displease you?" "O Gotama!" said the man, "from the time that I cut down the trees on the bank of the Aciravatī, you know what I have been doing. I have been going about, and promising gifts to you when that crop should be ripe: now a flood has carried off the whole crop, away to the sea, nothing is left at all! Grain has been destroyed to the amount of a hundred waggon-loads, and so I am deep in grief!"—"Why, will what is lost come back for grieving?"—"No, Gotama, that will it not."—"If that is so, why grieve? The wealth of beings in this world, or their corn, when they have it, they have it, and when it is gone, why, gone it is. No composite thing but is subject to destruction; do not brood over it." Thus comforting him, the Master repeated the Kama 1 Scripture as appropriate to his case. At the conclusion of the Kama, the mourning brahmin was established in the Fruit of the First Path. The Master having eased him of his pain, arose from his seat, and returned to the monastery.

All the town heard how the Master had found such a brahmin pierced with the pangs of grief, had consoled him and established him in the Fruit of the First Path. The Brethren talked of it in the Hall of Truth: "Hear, Sirs! The Dasabala made friends with a brahmin, grew intimate, took his opportunity to declare the Law to him, when pierced with the pangs of grief, eased him of pain, established him in the Fruit of the First Path!" The Master came in, and asked, "What speak ye of, Brethren, as ye sit here together?" They told him. He replied, "This is not the first time, Brethren, I have cured his grief, but I did the same long, long ago:" and with these words he told a story of the past.

Once upon a time, Brahmadatta king of Benares had two sons. To the elder he gave the viceroyalty, the younger he made commander-in-chief. Afterwards when Brahmadatta was dead, the courtiers were for making the elder son king by the ceremonial sprinkling. But he said, "I care nought for a kingdom: let my younger brother have it." They begged and besought him, but he would none of it; and the younger was sprinkled to be king. The elder cared not for the viceroyalty, or any such thing; and when they begged him to remain, and feed on the fat of the land, "Nay," quoth he, "I have nothing to do in this city," 1 6 and he departed from Benares. To the frontier he went; and dwelt with a rich merchant's family, working with his own hands. These after a while, learning that he was a king's son, would not allow him to work, but waited upon him as a prince should be attended.

Now after a time the king's officers came to that village, for taking a survey of the fields. Then the merchant came to the prince, and said,

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[paragraph continues] "My lord, we support you; will you send a letter to your younger brother, and procure for us remission of taxes?" To this he agreed, and wrote as follows: "I am living with the family of such a merchant; I pray you remit their taxes for my sake." The king consented, and so did. Thereupon all the villagers, and the people of the country side, came to him, and said, "Get our taxes remitted, and we will pay taxes to you." For them too he sent his petition, and got the taxes remitted. After that the people paid their taxes to him. Then his receipts and honour were great; and with this greatness grew his covetousness also. So by degrees he asked for all the district, he asked for the office of viceroy, and the younger brother gave it all. Then as his greed kept growing, he was not content even with viceroyalty, and determined to seize the kingdom; to which end he set out with a host of people, and taking up a position outside the city, sent a letter to his younger brother—"Give me the kingdom, or fight for it."

The younger brother thought: "This fool refused once kingdom, and viceroyalty, and all; and now says he, I will take it by battle! If I slay him in battle, it will be my shame; what care I for being king?" So he sent a message, "I have no wish to fight: you may have the kingdom." The other accepted it, and made his younger brother viceroy.

Thenceforward he ruled the kingdom. But so greedy was he, that one kingdom could not content him, but he craved for two kingdoms, then for three, 1 and yet saw no end to his greed.

At that time Sakka, king of the Gods, looked abroad: "Who are they," thought he, "carefully tend their parents? who give alms and do good? who are in the power of greed?" He perceived that this man was subject to greed: "Yon fool," thought he, "is not satisfied with being king of Benares. Well, I will teach him a lesson." So in the guise of a young brahmin, he stood at the door of the palace, and sent in word, that at the door stood a clever young man. He was admitted, and wished victory to the king; then the king said, "Why have you come?" "Mighty King!" he answered, "I have a thing to say to you, but I desire privacy." By power of Sakka, at that very instant the people retired. Then said the young man, "O great king! I know three cities, prosperous, thronged with men, strong in troops and horses: of these by my own power I will obtain the lordship, and deliver it to you. But you must make no delaying, and go at once." The king being full of covetise gave his consent. (But by Sakka's power he was prevented from asking, "Who are you? whence come? and what are you to receive?") So much Sakka said, and then returned to the abode of the Thirty-three.

Then the king summoned his courtiers, and thus addressed them 1.

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[paragraph continues] "A youth has been here, promising to capture and give me the lordship of three kingdoms! Go, look for him! Send the drum a-beating about the city, assemble the army, make no delay, for I am about to take three kingdoms!" "O great king!" they said, "did you offer hospitality to the young man, or did you ask where he dwelt?" "No, no, I offered him no hospitality, I did not ask where he dwelt: go, and look for him!" They searched, but found him not; they informed the king, they could not in the whole city find the young man. On hearing this the king became gloomy. "The lordship over three cities is lost," he thought again and again: "I am shorn of great glory. Doubtless the young man went away angry with me, that I gave him no money for his expenses, nor a place to dwell in." 1 Then in his body, full of greed, a burning arose; as the body burnt, his bowels were moved to a bloody flux; as the food went in, so it came out; physicians could not cure him, the king was exhausted. His illness was bruited abroad all through the city.

At that time, the Bodhisatta had returned to his parents in Benares from Takkasilā, after mastering all branches of learning. He hearing the news about the king, proceeded to the palace door, with intent to cure him, and sent in a message, that a young man was there ready to cure the king. The king said, "Great and most renowned physicians, known far and near, are not able to cure me: what can a young lad do? Pay his expenses, and let him depart." The young man made answer, "I want no fee for my physic, but I will cure him; let him simply and solely pay me the price of my remedy." When the king heard this, he agreed, and admitted him. The young man saluted the king, "Fear nothing, O king!" said he; "I will cure you; do but tell me the origin of your disorder." The king answered in wrath, "What is that to you? make up your medicine." "O great king," quoth he, "it is the way of physicians, first to learn whence the disease arises, then to make a remedy to suit." "Well, well, my son," said the king, and proceeded to tell the origin of the disease, beginning where that young man had come, and made his promise, that he would take and give to him the lordship over three cities. "Thus, my son, the disease arose from greed; now cure it if you can." "What, O king!" quoth he," can you capture those cities by grieving?"—"Why no, my son."—"Since that is so, why grieve, O great king? Every thing, animate or inanimate, must pass away, and leave all behind, even its own body. 1 2 Even should you obtain, rule over four cities, you could not at one time eat four plates of food, recline on four couches, wear four sets of robes. You ought not to be the slave of desire; for desire, when it increases, allows no release from the four states of suffering." Thus having admonished him, the Great Being declared the Law in the following stanzas:

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"He that desires a thing, and then this his desire fulfilment blesses,
Sure a glad-hearted man is he, because his wish he now possesses. 1

"He that desires a thing, and then this his desire fulfilment blesses,
Desires throng on him more and more, as thirst in time of heat oppresses.

"As in the hornéd kine, the horn with their growth larger grows:
So, in a foolish undiscerning man, that nothing knows,
While grows the man, the more and more grows thirst, and craving grows

"Give all the rice and corn on earth, slave-men, and kine, and horse,
’Tis not enough for one: this know, and keep a righteous course.

"A king that should subdue the whole world wide,
    The whole wide world up to the ocean bound,
With this side of the sea unsatisfied
    Would crave what might beyond the sea be found.

"Brood on desires within the heart—content will ne’er arise.
    Who turns from these, and the true cure descries,
    He is content, whom wisdom satisfies.

"Best to be full of wisdom: these no lust can set afire;
Never the man with wisdom filled is slave unto desire.

"Crush your desires, and little want, not greedy all to win:
He that is like the sea is not burnt by desire within,
But like a cobbler, cuts the shoe according to the skin.

[173]"For each desire that is let go a happiness is won:
He that all happiness would have, must with all lust have done."

[174] But as the Bodhisatta was repeating these stanzas, his mind being concentrated on the king's white sunshade, there arose in him the mystic rapture attained through white light 2. The king on his part became whole and well; he arose in joy from his seat, and addressed him thus: "When all those physicians could not heal me, a wise youth has made me whole by the medicine of his wisdom!" And he then repeated the tenth stanza:


"Eight 3 verses have you uttered, worth a thousand pieces each:
Take, O great brahmin! take the sum, for sweet is this your speech."

At which the Great Being repeated the eleventh:

"For thousands, hundreds, million times a million 4, nought care I:
As the last verse I uttered, in my heart desire did die."

More and yet more delighted, the king recited the last stanza in praise of the Great Being:

"Wise and good is indeed this youth, all the lore of all worlds knowing:
All desire in very truth is mother of misery by his showing."

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"Great king!"said the Bodhisatta, "be circumspect, and walk in righteousness." Thus admonishing the king, he passed through the air to Himalaya, and living the life of a recluse, while life lasted, cultivated the Excellences, and became destined for the world of Brahma.

This discourse ended, the Master said, "Thus, Brethren, in former days as now, I made this brahmin whole:" so saying, he identified the Birth: "At that time this brahmin was the king, and I was the wise young man."


104:1 See No. 228 (ii. p. 149 of this translation).

104:2 I.e. his capacity in the spiritual life.

104:3 Refer to the following passage in Vedāntaparibhāshā: "yathā taḍāgodakaṃ kulyātmanā kedārān praviçya tadvadeva catuṣkoṇādyākāraṃ bhavati." (For this note I am indebted to Prof. Cowell.) See also Sleeman, Rambles &c. ii. 178.

104:4 There was a great yearly ceremony of this kind, at which the King held the plough; see Hardy's Manual of Buddhism, p. 150.

105:1 Kāmasuttaṁ: in Sutta-Nipāta, IV. i. (p. 146). See first stanza below.

106:1 The quotation of the youth's words begins at tīni.

108:1 Sutta-Nipāta, IV. 1 (p. 146), verse 766.

108:2 This is one of the ten kinds of Kasiṇa, or ways in which the devotee may fall into the mystic trance. See Childers, s.v.

108:3 "Beginning with the second, those which explain the misery of desire are eight," quoth the Scholiast. The first stanza, it will be remembered, is a quotation from Sutta-Nipāta, and possibly may have been added later.

108:4 The number nahutaṁ is 1 followed by 28 ciphers.

The Jataka, Vol. IV: No. 468.: Janasandha-Jātaka.

The Jataka, Vol. IV, tr. by W.H.D. Rouse, [1901], at

No. 468.


[176] "Thus spake," etc. This story the Master told while dwelling at Jetavana, for the instruction of the King of Kosala.

At one time, they say the king, intoxicated with power, and devoted to the pleasures of sin, held no court of justice, and grew remiss in attending upon the Buddha. One day he remembered the Dasabala; thought he, "I must visit him." So after breaking his fast, he ascended his magnificent chariot, and proceeding to the monastery, greeted him and took a seat. "How is it, great King," asked the Bodhisatta, "that you have not showed yourself for so long?" "O, sir," replied the king, "I have been so busy, that there has been no opportunity of waiting upon you." "Great King," quoth he, "not meet is it to neglect such as I am, who can give admonition, Supreme Buddhas, dwelling too in a monastery in front. A king ought to rule vigilant in all kingly duties, to his subjects like mother or father, forsaking all evil courses, never omitting the ten virtues of a king. When a king is righteous, those who surround him are righteous also. No marvel were it, in truth, if under my instruction you were to rule in righteousness; but wise men of old, even when there was no teacher to instruct them, by their own understanding established in the threefold practice of well-doing, declared the Law to a great multitude of people, and with all their attendants went to swell the hosts of heaven." With these words, at his request, the Master told a story of the past.

Once upon a time, when Brahmadatta was king in Benares, the Bodhisatta was born as son of his Queen Consort. They gave him the name of Prince Janasandha. Now when he came of age, and had returned from Takkasilā, where he had been educated in all accomplishments, the king gave a general pardon to all prisoners, and gave him the viceroyalty. Afterwards when his father died, he became king, and then he caused to be built six almonries: at the four gates of the city, in the

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midst of it, and at the palace gate. There day by day he used to distribute six hundred thousand pieces of money, and stirred up all India with his almsgiving: the prison doors he opened for good and all, the places of execution he destroyed, all the world he protected with the four sorts of beneficence 1, 1 he kept the five virtues, observed the holy fast-day, and ruled in righteousness. From time to time he would gather together his subjects, and declare the Law to them: "Give alms, practise virtue, righteously follow your business and calling, educate yourselves in the days of your youth, gain wealth, do not behave like a village cheat or a dog, be not harsh nor cruel, do your duty in caring for mother and for father, in family life honour your elders." Thus he confirmed multitudes of people in good living.

Once on the holy day, fifteenth of the fortnight, having undertaken to keep the holy day, he thought to himself, "I will declare the Law to the multitudes, for the continual increase of good and blessing to them, and to make them vigilant in their life." Then he caused the drum to beat, and beginning with the women of his own household, gathered together all the people of the city. In the courtyard of his palace he sat, on a splendid couch set apart, beneath a pavilion adorned with jewels, and declared the Law in these words: "O people of the city! to you I will declare the practices that will cause you suffering, and these which will not. Be vigilant, and hear with care and attention."

The Master opened his mouth, a precious jewel among mouths, full of truth, and with a voice sweet as honey explained this address of the king of Kosala:

"Thus spake King Janasandha: Ten things in truth there be,
Which if a man omit to do, he suffers presently.

"Not to have got nor gathered store in time, the heart torments;
To think he sought no wealth before he afterwards repents.

"How hard is life for men untaught! he thinks, repenting sore
That learning, which he now might use, he would not learn before.

"A slanderer once, dishonest once, a backbiter unkind,
Cruel, and harsh was I: good cause for sorrow now I find.

[178]"A slayer was I, merciless, and to no creature gave,
Contemptible: for this (quoth he) much sorrow now I have.

"When I had many wives (thinks he) to whom I owed their due,
I left them for another's wife; which now I dearly rue.

"When plenteous store of food and drink there was, he sorrows sore,
To think he never gave a gift in the old time before.

"He grieves to think that when he could, he would not care and tend
Mother and father, now grown old, their youth now at an end.


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"To have slighted teacher, monitor, or father, who would try
To gratify his every wish, causes deep misery.

"To have treated brahmins with neglect, ascetics many a one
Holy, and learned, in the past, makes him repent anon.

"Sweet is austerity performed, a good man honoured well:
That he did no such thing before ’tis sad to have to tell.

"Who these ten things in wisdom brings to full accomplishment,
And to all men his duty does, will never need repent."

[180] Thus twice in the month did the Great Being discourse in the same way to the multitude. And the multitude, established in his admonition, fulfilled these ten things, and became destined for heaven.

When the Master had ended this discourse, he said, "Thus, O great king, wise men of old, untaught and from their own intelligence, declared the Law, and established multitudes in the way to heaven." With these words, he identified the Birth: "At that time the Buddha's followers were the people, and I was myself King Janasandha."


110:1 Liberality, Affability, Impartiality, Good Rule.

110:2 Compare Sutta-Nipāta, 95, 124.

The Jataka, Vol. IV: No. 469.: Mahā-Kaṇha-Jātaka.

The Jataka, Vol. IV, tr. by W.H.D. Rouse, [1901], at

No. 469.


"A black, black hound," etc. This story the Master told while dwelling at Jetavana, about living for the benefit of the world.

One day, they say, the Brethren as they sat in the Hall of Truth, were talking together. "Sirs," one would say, "the Master, ever practising friendship towards the multitudes of the people, has forsaken an agreeable abode, and lives just for the good of the world. He has attained supreme wisdom, yet of his own accord takes bowl and robe, and goes on a journey of eighteen leagues or more. For the Five Elders 1 he set a-rolling the Wheel of the Law; on the fifth day of the half-month he recited the Anattalakkhaṇa Scriptures, and bestowed sainthood upon them all; he went to Uruveḷa 2, and to the ascetics with matted hair he showed miracles three thousand and half a thousand, and persuaded them to join the Order; at Gayāsīsa 3 he recited the Discourse upon Fire, and bestowed sainthood upon a thousand of these ascetics;

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to Mahākassapa 1, when he had gone forward three miles to meet him, after three discourses he gave the higher Orders; all alone, after the noon-day meal, he went a journey of forty-five leagues, and then established in the Fruit of the Third Path Pukkusa (a youth of very good birth); to meet Mahākappina 1 he went forward a space of two thousand leagues, and bestowed sainthood upon him; alone, in the afternoon he went a journey of thirty leagues, and established in sainthood that cruel and harsh man Aṅgulimāla 2; thirty leagues also he traversed, and established Ālavaka 3 in the Fruit of the First Path, and saved the prince; in the Heaven of the Thirty-Three he dwelt three months, and taught full comprehension of the Law to eight hundred millions of deities 4; to Brahma's world he went, and destroyed the false doctrine of Baka Brahma 5, and bestowed sainthood on ten thousand Brahmas; every year he goes on pilgrimage in three districts, and to such men as are capable of receiving, he gives the Refuges, the Virtues, and the fruits of the different stages; 1 he even acts for the good of snakes and garuḷa birds and the like, in many ways." In such words they praised the goodness and worth of the Dasabala's life for the good of the world. The Master came in, and asked what they talked of as they sat there? They told him. "And no wonder, Brethren," said he. "I who now in my perfect wisdom would live for the world's good, even I in the past, in the days of passion, lived for the good of the world." So saying, he told a story of the past.

Once upon a time, in the days of the Supreme Buddha Kassapa, there reigned a king named Usīnara. It was a long time after the Supreme Buddha Kassapa had declared the Four Truths, and liberated multitudes of people from bondage, and had been translated to swell the number of those who dwell in Nirvana; and the religion had fallen into decay. The Brethren gained their livelihood in the twenty-one unlawful ways 6; they associated with the Sisters, and sons and daughters were born to them; Brethren forsook the duties of the Brotherhood, and Sisters forsook the duties of Sisters, lay Brethren and Sisters the duties of such, brahmins did no longer the duties of a brahmin: men for the most part followed the ten paths of evil-doing, and as they died thus filled the hosts of all states of suffering.

Then Sakka, observing that no new deities came into being, looked abroad upon the world; and then he perceived how men were born into states of suffering, and that the religion of the Buddha had decayed. "What shall I do, now?" he wondered.—"Ah, I have it!" thought he: "I will scare and terrify mankind; and when I see they are terrified,

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[paragraph continues] I will console them, I will declare the Law, I will restore religion which has decayed, I will make it last for another thousand years!" With this resolve, he made the god Mātali 1 into the shape of a huge black hound, of pure breed, having four tusks as big as a plantain, horrible, with a hideous shape and a fat belly, as of a woman ready to be delivered of a child; him fastening with five-fold chain, 1 2 and putting on him a red wreath, he led by a cord. Himself he put on a pair of yellow garments, and bound his hair behind his head, and donned a red wreath; taking a huge bow, fitted with bowstring of the colour of coral, and twirling in his fingers a javelin tipt with adamant, he assumed the aspect of a forester, and descended at a spot one league away from the city. "The world is doomed to destruction, is doomed to destruction!" he called out thrice with a loud sound, so that he terrified the people; and when he reached the entering in of the city, he repeated the cry. The people on seeing the hound were frightened, and hasted into the city, and told the king what had happened. The king speedily caused the city gates to be closed. But Sakka overleapt the wall, eighteen cubits in height, and with his hound stood within the city. The people in terror ran away into the houses, and made the doors fast. Big Blackie gave chase to every man he saw, and scared them, and finally entered into the king's palace. The people who in their fright had taken refuge in the courtyard, ran into the palace, and shut to the door. And as for the king, he with the ladies of his household went up on the terrace. Big Blackie raised his forefeet, and putting them in at the window roared a great roar The sound of his roaring reached from hell to the highest heaven: the whole universe was one great roar. The three great roars that were the loudest ever heard in India are these: the cry of king Puṇṇaka in the Puṇṇaka 2 Birth, the cry of the snake-king Sudassana in the Bhūridatta Birth 3, and this roar in the Mahā-Kaṇha Birth, or the story of Big Blackie 4. The people were terrified and horrified, and not a man of them could say a word to Sakka.

The king plucked up heart, and approaching the window, cried out to Sakka—"Ho, huntsman! 1 3 why did your hound roar?" Quoth he, "The hound is hungry." "Well," said the king, "I will order some food to be given him." So he told them to give him his own food, and the food of all his household. The hound seemed to make but one mouthful of the whole, then roared again. Again the king put his question. "My hound is still hungry," was the reply. Then he had all the food of

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his elephants and horses and so forth brought and given to him. This also he finished off all at once; and then the king had all the food in the city given him. He swallowed this in like manner, and roared again. Said the king, "This is no hound. Beyond all doubt he is a goblin. I will ask him wherefore he is come." So terrified with fear, he asked his question by repeating the first stanza:

"A black, black hound, with five cords bound, with fangs all white of hue,
Majestic, awful—mighty one! what makes he here with you?"

On hearing this, Sakka repeated the second stanza:

"Not to hunt game the Black Hound came, but he shall be of use
To punish men, Usīnara, when I shall let him loose."

Then said the king, "What, huntsman! will the hound devour the flesh of all men, 1 4 or of your enemies only?" "Only my enemies, great king." "And who are your enemies?" "Those, O king, who love unrighteousness, and walk wickedly." "Describe them to us," he asked. And the king of the gods described them in the stanzas:

"When the false Brethren, bowl in hand, in one robe clad, shall choose
Tonsured the plough to follow, then the Black Hound I will loose.

"When Sisters of the Order shall in single robe be found,
Tonsured, yet walking in the world, I will let loose the Hound.

"What time ascetics, usurers, protruding the upper lip,
Foul-toothed and filthy-haired shall be—the Black Hound I'll let slip.

"When brahmins, skilled in sacred books and holy rites, shall use
Their skill to sacrifice for pelf, the Black Hound shall go loose.

"Whoso his parents now grown old, their youth now come to an end,
Would not maintain, although he might 1, gainst him the Hound I'll send.

"Who to his parents now grown old, their youth now come to an end,
Cries, Fools are ye! gainst such as he the Black Hound I will send.

"When men go after others' wives, of teacher, or of friend,
Sister of father, uncle's wife, the Black Hound I will send.

"When shield on shoulder, sword in hand, full-armed as highway men
They take the road to kill and rob, I'll loose the Black Hound then.

"When widows' sons, with skin groomed white, in skill all useless found,
Strong-armed, shall quarrel and shall fight, then I will loose the Hound.

"When men with hearts of evil full, false and deceitful men,
Walk in and out the world about, I'll loose the Black Hound then."

[186] When he had thus spoken, "These," said he, "are my enemies, O king!" and he made as though he would let the hound leap forth and devour all those who did the deeds of enemies. But as all the multitude was terror-struck, he held in the hound by the leash, and seemed as

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it were to fix him to the spot;. then putting off the disguise of a hunter, by his power he rose and poised himself in the air, all blazing as it appeared, and said: "O great king, I am Sakka king of the gods! Seeing that the world was about to be destroyed, I came hither. Now indeed men as they die are filling the states of suffering, because their deeds are evil, and heaven is become empty. From henceforth I will know how to deal with the wicked, but do you be vigilant." Then having in four stanzas well worth remembering declared the Law, and established the people in the virtues of liberality, he strengthened the waning power of religion so that it lasted for yet another thousand years, and then with Mātali returned to his own place.

When the Master had ended this discourse, he added: "Thus, Brethren, in former times as now I have lived for the good of the world;" and then he identified the Birth: "At that time Ānanda was Mātali, and I was Sakka."


111:1 The five who accompanied Buddha when he began his life as an ascetic: Aññakoṇḍañña, Bhaddiya, Vappa, Assaji, Mahānāma. See Hardy, Manual, p. 165.

111:2 Hardy, p. 188. He there preached to the fire-worshippers.

111:3 Now Brahmāyoni, a mountain near Gayā. See Hardy, p. 191.

112:1 See J. P. T. S. 1888, p. 67.

112:2 Hardy, p. 249.

112:3 This was a tree-demon, who claimed sacrifice of one victim every day. The King's own son was to be eaten, when Buddha saved him. Hardy, p. 261.

112:4 Hardy, p. 298.

112:5 The beings who dwelt in the three worlds of Brahma were called "brahma." The story alluded to here is given in No. 405 (iii. 219 of this translation); Hardy, Manual, p. 336.

112:6 Cp. ii. p. 57 of this translation.

113:1 His charioteer.

113:2 No such title occurs in this collection.

113:3 No. 543 (vi. 157).

113:4 Four sounds are given as proverbial by Hardy, Manual, p. 263; two of which are the first and third of these.

114:1 Thus far the two verses occur in Sutta-Nipāta, 98 and 124.

The Jataka, Vol. IV: No. 470.: Kosiya-Jātaka.

The Jataka, Vol. IV, tr. by W.H.D. Rouse, [1901], at

No. 470.


The Kosiya Birth will be given under the Sudhābhojana Birth 1.

The Jataka, Vol. IV: No. 471.: Meṇḍaka-Jātaka.

The Jataka, Vol. IV, tr. by W.H.D. Rouse, [1901], at

No. 471.


The Problem of Meṇḍaka will be given under the Ummagga Birth 2.


115:1 No. 535, vol. v, p. 382 (Pali).

115:2 No. 546, vol. vi, p. 329 (Pali).

The Jataka, Vol. IV: No. 472.: Mahā-Paduma-Jātaka.

The Jataka, Vol. IV, tr. by W.H.D. Rouse, [1901], at

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No. 472.


[187] "No king should," etc. This story the Master told while dwelling in Jetavana, about Ciñcamāṇavikā 2.

When the Dasabala first attained supreme wisdom, after disciples had multiplied, and innumerable gods and men had been born into heavenly states, and the seeds of goodness had been cast abroad, great honour was shown him, and great gifts given. The heretics were like fireflies after sunrise; no honours and no gifts had they; in the street they stood, and cried out to the people, "What, is the ascetic Gotama the Buddha? We are Buddhas also! Does that gift only bring great fruit, which is given to him? That which is given to us also has great fruit for you! Give to us also, work for us!" But cry as they would, no honour nor gifts they got. Then they came together in secret, and consulted: "How can we cast a stain upon Gotama the ascetic in the face of men, and put an end to his honour and his gifts?"

Now there was at that time in Sāvatthi a certain Sister, named Ciñcamānavikā; passing fair she was, full of all grace, a very sylph; rays of brilliancy shone forth from her body. Some one uttered a counsel of cruelty thus: "By the help of Ciñcamāṇavikā we will cast a stain upon the ascetic Gotama, and put an end to his honour and the gifts he receives." "Yes," they all agreed, "that is the way to do it."

She came to the monastery of the heretics, and greeted them, and stood still. The heretics said nothing to her. She said, "What blemish is there in me? Three times I have greeted you!" She said again, "Sirs, what blemish is in me? why do you not speak to me?" They replied, "Know you not, Sister, that Gotama the ascetic is going about and doing us harm, cutting off all the honour and liberality that was shown us?"—"I did not know it, Sirs; but what can I do?"—"If you wish us well, Sister by your own doing bring a stain upon the ascetic Gotama, and put an end to his honour and the gifts he receives." She replied, "Very good, Sirs, leave that to me; do not trouble about it." With these words she departed.

After that, she used all a woman's skill in deceit. When the people of Sāvatthi had heard the Law, and were coming away from Jetavana, she used to go towards Jetavana, clad in a robe dyed with cochineal, and with fragrant garlands in her hands. 1 When any one asked her, "Whither away at this hour?" she would reply "What have you to do with my goings and comings?" She spent the night in the heretics' monastery, which was close by Jetavana: and when early in the morning, the lay associates of the order came forth from the city to pay their morning salutation, she would meet them as though she had spent the night in Jetavana, going towards the city. If any one asked where she had stayed, she would answer, "What are my stayings and lodgings to you?" But after some six weeks, she replied, "I spent the night in Jetavana, with Gotama the ascetic, in one fragrant cell." Then the unconverted began to wonder, could this be true, or not. After three or four months, she bound bandages about her belly, and made it appear as though she were with child, and wrapt a red robe around her. Then she declared that she was with child by the ascetic Gotama, and made blind fools believe. After eight or nine months, she fastened about her pieces of wood in a bundle, and over all her

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red robe; hands, feet, and back she caused to be beaten with the jawbone of an ox, so as to produce swellings; and made as though all her senses were wearied. One evening, when the Tathāgata was sitting on the splendid seat of preaching, and was preaching the Law, she went among the congregation, and standing in front of the Tathāgata, said—"O great ascetic! You preach indeed to great multitudes; sweet is your voice, and soft is the lip that covers your teeth; but you have got me with child, and my time is near; yet you assign me no chamber for the childbirth, you give me no ghee nor oil; what you will not do yourself, you do not ask another of the lay associates to do, the king of Kosala, or Anāthapiṇḍika, or Visākhā the great lay Sister. Why do you not tell one of them to do what is to be done for me? You know how to take your pleasure, but you do not know how to care for that which shall be born!" So she reviled the Tathāgata in the midst of the congregation, as one might try to besmirch the moon's face with a handful of filth. The Tathāgata stopt his discourse, and crying like a lion in clarion tones, he said, "Sister, whether that which you have said be true or false, you know and I know only." "Yes, truly," said she, "this happened through something that you and I only know of."

Just at that moment, Sakka's throne became hot. Reflecting, he perceived the reason:"Ciñcamāṇavikā is accusing the Tathāgata of what is not true." Determined to clear up this matter, he came thither with four gods in his company. The gods took on them the shape of mice, 1 and all at once gnawed through the cords that bound the bundle of wood: a wind-puff blew up the robe she wore, and the bundle of wood was disclosed and fell at her feet: the toes of both her feet were cut off 1. The people cried out—"A witch is accusing the Supreme Buddha!" They spat on her head, and drove her forth from Jetavana with staves and clods in their hands. And as she passed beyond the range of the Tathāgata's vision, the great earth yawned and showed a huge cleft, flames came up from the lowest hell, and she, enveloped in it as it were with a garment 2 which her friends should wrap about her, fell to the lowest hell and there was born again. The honour and receipts of the other heretics ceased, those of the Dasabala grew more abundantly.

Next day they were conversing in the Hall of Truth: "Brother, Ciñcamāṇavikā falsely accused the Supreme Buddha, great in virtue, worthy of all gifts! and she came to dire destruction." The Master entered, and asked what they talked of, sitting there together. They told him. Said he, "Not now only, Brethren, has this woman falsely accused me, and come to dire destruction, but it was the same before." So saying, he told a story of the past.

Once upon a time 3, when Brahmadatta was king of Benares, the Bodhisatta was born as the son of his chief queen; and for that his all-blessed countenance was like to a lotus full-blown, Paduma-Kumāra they named him, which is to say, the Lotus Prince. When he grew

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up he was educated in all arts and accomplishments. Then his mother departed this life; the king took another consort, and appointed his son viceroy.

After this the king, being about to set forth to quell a rising on the frontier, said to his consort, "Do you, lady, stay here, while I go forth to quell the frontier insurrection." But she replied, "No, my lord, here I will not remain, but I will go with you." Then he showed her the danger which lay on the field of battle, adding to it this: "Stay then here without vexation until my return, and I will give charge to Prince Paduma, that he be careful in all that should be done for you, and then I will go." So thus he did, and departed.

When he had scattered his enemies, and pacified the country, he returned, and pitched his camp without the city. The Bodhisatta learning of his father's return, 1 adorned the city, and setting a watch over the royal palace, went forth alone to meet his father. The Queen observing the beauty of his appearance, became enamoured of him. In taking leave of her, the Bodhisatta said, "Can I do anything for you, mother?" "Mother, do you call me?" quoth she. She rose up and seized his hands, saying, "Lie on my couch!" "Why?" he asked. "Just until the king comes," she said, "let us both enjoy the bliss of love!" "Mother, my mother you are, and you have a husband living. Such a thing was never before heard of, that a woman, a matron, should break the moral law in the way of fleshly lust. How can I do such a deed of pollution with you?" Twice and thrice she besought him, and when he would not, said she, "Then you refuse to do as I ask?"—"Indeed I do refuse."—"Then I will speak to the king, and cause you to be beheaded." "Do as you will," answered the Great Being; and he left her ashamed. Then in great terror she thought: "If he tell the king first, there is no life for me! I must get speech of him first myself." Accordingly leaving her food untouched she donned a soiled robe 1, and made nail-scratches upon her body; giving orders to her attendants, that what time the king should ask of the queen's whereabouts, he should be told she was ill, she lay down making a pretence of illness.

Now the king made solemn procession about the city right-wise, and went up into his dwelling. When he saw her not, he asked, "Where is the queen?" "She is ill," they said. He entered the state chamber, and asked her, "What is amiss with you, lady?"  She made as though she heard nothing. Twice and yet thrice he asked, and then she answered, "O great king, why do you ask? Be silent: women that have a husband must be even as I am." "Who has annoyed you?" said he. 1 "Tell me quickly, and I will have him beheaded."—"Whom did you leave behind

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you in this city, when you went away?"—"Prince Paduma." "And he," she went on, "came into my room, and I said, My son, do not so, I am your mother: but say what I would, he cried, None is king here but I, and I will take you to my dwelling, and enjoy your love; then he seized me by the hair of my head, and plucked it out again and again, and as I would not yield to his will, he wounded and beat me, and departed." The king made no investigation, but furious as a serpent, commanded his men, "Go and bind Prince Paduma, and bring him to me!" They went to his house, swarming as it were through the city, and bound him and beat him, bound his hands fast behind his back, put about his neck the garland of red flowers 1, making him a condemned criminal, and led him thither, beating him the while. It was clear to him that this was the queen's doing, and as he went along he cried out, "Ho fellows, I am not one that has offended against the king! I am innocent." All the city was a-bubble with the news: "They say the king is going to execute Prince Paduma at the bidding of a woman!" They flocked together, they fell at the prince's feet, lamenting with a great noise, "You have not deserved this, my lord!"

At last they brought him before the king. At sight of him, the king could not restrain what was in his heart, and cried out, "This fellow is no king, but he plays the king finely! My son he is, yet he has insulted the queen. Away with him, down with him over the thieves' cliff, make an end of him!" But the prince said to his father, "No such crime lies at my door, father. Do not kill me on a woman's word." The king would not listen to him. Then all those of the royal seraglio, in number sixteen thousand, raised a great lamentation, saying, "Dear Paduma, mighty Prince, this dealing you have never deserved!" 1 2 And all the warrior chiefs and great magnates of the land, and all the attendant courtiers cried, "My lord! the prince is a man of goodness and virtuous life, observes the traditions of his race, heir to the kingdom! Do not slay him at a woman's word, without a hearing! A king's duty it is to act with all circumspection." So saying, they repeated seven stanzas:

"No king should punish an offence, and hear no pleas at all,
Not throughly sifting it himself in all points, great and small 2.

"The warrior chief who punishes a fault before he tries,
Is like a man born blind, who eats his food all bones and flies.

"Who punishes the guiltless, and lets go the guilty, knows
No more than one who blind upon a rugged highway goes.

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"He who all this examines well, in things both great and small,
And so administers, deserves to be the head of all.

"He that would set himself on high must not all-gentle be
Nor all-severe: but both these things practise in company.

"Contempt the all-gentle wins, and he that's all-severe, has wrath:
So of the pair be well aware, and keep a middle path.

"Much can the angry man, O king, and much the knave can say:
And therefore for a woman's sake thy son thou must not slay."

[193] But for all they could say in many ways the courtiers could not win him to do their bidding. The Bodhisatta also, for all his beseeching, could not persuade him to listen: nay, the king said, blind fool—"Away! down with him over the thieves' cliff!" repeating the eighth stanza:

"One side the whole world stands, my queen on the other all alone;
Yet her I cleave to: cast him down the cliff, and get you gone!"

At these words, not one among the sixteen thousand women could remain unmoved, while all the populace stretched out their hands, and tore their hair, with lamentations. The king said, 1 4 "Let these but try to prevent the throwing of this fellow over the cliff!" and amidst his followers, though the crowd wailed around, he caused the prince to be seized, and cast down the precipice over heels head-first.

Then the deity that dwelt in the hill, by power of his own kindliness, comforted the prince, saying, "Fear not, Paduma!" and in both hands he caught him, pressed him to his heart, sent a divine thrill through him, set him in the abode of the serpents of the eight ranges 1, within the hood of the king of the serpents. The serpent king received the Bodhisatta into the abode of the serpents, and gave him the half of his own glory and state. There for one year he dwelt. Then he said, "I would go back to the ways of men." "Whither?" they asked. "To Himalaya, where I will live a religious life." The serpent king gave his consent; taking him, he conveyed him to the place where men go to and fro, and gave him the requisites of the religious, and went back to his own place.

So he proceeded to Himalaya, and embraced the religious life, and cultivated the faculty of ecstatic bliss; there he abode, feeding upon fruits and roots of the woodland.

Now a certain wood-ranger, who dwelt in Benares, came to that place, and recognised the Great Being. "Are you not," he asked, "the great Prince Paduma, my lord?" "Yes, Sir," he replied. The other saluted him, and there for some days he remained. Then he returned to Benares, and said to the king; "Your son, my lord, has embraced the religious life in the region of Himalaya, and lives, in a hut of leaves. I have been staying with him, and thence I come." "Have you seen him with your

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own eyes?" asked the king. "Yes, my lord." The king with a great host went thither, and on the outskirts of the forest he pitched his camp; then with his courtiers around him, went to salute the Great Being, who sat at the door of his hut of leaves, in all the glory of his golden form, and sat on one side; the courtiers also greeted him, and spoke pleasantly to him, and sat on one side. The Bodhisatta on his part invited the king to share his wild fruits, and talked pleasantly with him. Then said the king, "My son, 1 5 by me you were cast down a deep precipice, and how is it you are yet alive?" Asking which, he repeated the ninth stanza:

"As into hell-mouth, you were cast over a beetling hill,
No succour—many palm-trees deep: how are you living still?"

These are the remaining stanzas, and of the five, taken alternately, three were spoken by the Bodhisatta, and two by the king.

"A Serpent mighty, full of force, born on that mountain land,
Caught me within his coils; and so here safe from death I stand."

"Lo! I will take you back, O prince, to my own home again:
And there—what is the wood to you?—with blessing you shall reign."

"As who a hook has swallowèd, and draws it forth all blood,
Drawn forth, is happy: so I see in me this bliss and good."

"Why speak you thus about a hook, why speak you thus of gore,
Why speak about the drawing out? come tell me, I implore."

"Lust is the hook: fine elephants and horse by blood I show;
These by renouncing I have drawn; this, chieftain, you must know."

[196] "Thus, O great king, to be king is nothing to me; but do you see to it, that you break not the Ten Royal Virtues, but forsake evildoing, and rule in righteousness." In those words the Great Being admonished the king. He with weeping and wailing departed, and on the way to his city he asked his courtiers: "On whose account was it that I made a breach with a son so virtuous?" they replied, "The queen's." Her the king caused to be seized, and cast headlong over the thieves' cliff, and entering his city ruled in righteousness.

When the Master had ended this discourse, he said, "Thus, Brethren, this woman maligned me in days of yore, and came to dire destruction;" and then identified the Birth by repeating the last stanza:

"Lady Ciñcā was my mother,
Devadatta was my father,
    I was then the Prince their son:
Sāriputta was the spirit,
And the good snake, I declare it,
    Was Ānanda. I have done."


116:1 The introductory story, with a brief abstract of the other, is given in Dhammapada, p. 238 ff.

116:2 Who falsely accused the Buddha of incontinence: Hardy, Manual, p. 275.

117:1 That this is the meaning is clear from the passive in the Dhammapada version, chijjiṁsu, p. 340.

117:2 The meaning of this phrase is doubtful: in vol. ii. pp. 28 and 120, it is rendered "royal woollen garment": it may mean "wedding-garment" given to the bride by the bridegroom's friends (Grierson's Bihar Peasant Life, § 1322).

117:3 This theme, which resembles the story of Joseph and the wife of Potiphar, or Phaedra and Hippolytus, is common in various forms in India. One example is the Legend of Puran Mal (MS. written by Rām Gharīb Sharmā, Chāturvaidya, and collected by Mr. W. Crooke). Another is the Legend of Rup and Basant, or Sit and Basant (MS.). In both of these the Queen falls in love with her step-son.

118:1 Reading, lāmakavattham.

119:1 This was the vajjhamālā, put on the head or neck of a criminal condemned to death. In the Toy Cart, Act x, one being led forth to execution wears a wreath of Karavīra flowers. The Pali has Kaṇavera, which is not known as a flower: this may be a corrupt form of the Sanskrit word.

119:2 These lines occur in Dhammapada, p. 341.

120:1 See Wilson's Vishṇu Purāna, ii. p. 123.

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No. 473.


"How should the wise," etc.—This story the Master told while dwelling in Jetavana, about an upright courtier of the king of Kosala.

This man, they say, was most useful to the king, and then the king bestowed on him great honour. The other courtiers being unable to stomach him, accused him to the king of having done things to the king's hurt. The king made enquiry about him, and finding in him no fault, thought, "I see no fault in the man; how can I know whether he be my friend or foe?" Then he thought, "No one, save the Tathāgata, 1 will be able to decide this question; I will go and ask him." So after he had broken his fast he visited the Master, and said, "How can one tell, Sir, of any man, whether he be friend or foe?" Then the Master replied, "Wise men of old, O king, have pondered this problem, and have questioned the wise about it, and following their advice, have discovered the truth, and renouncing their enemies have paid attention to their friends." This said, at his request, he told a story of the past.

Once upon a time, when Brahmadatta was king of Benares, the Bodhisatta was a courtier who advised him on things spiritual and things temporal. At that time, the rest slandered a certain courtier who was upright. The king seeing no fault in him, asked the Great Being, "Now in what can one tell friend or foe?" repeating the first stanza:

"How should the wise and prudent strive, how may discernment know,
What deeds declare to eye or ear the man that is a foe?"

Then the Great Being repeated these five stanzas to explain the marks of an enemy:

"He smiles not when you see him, no welcome will he show,
He will not turn his eyes that way, and answers you with No. 1

"Your enemies he honours, he cares not for your friends,
Those who would praise your worth, he stays, your slanderers commends.

"No secret tells he to you, your secret he betrays,
Speaks never well of what you do, your wisdom will not praise.

"He joys not at your welfare, but at your evil fame:
Should he receive some dainty, he thinks not of your name,
Nor pities you, nor cries aloud-O, had my friend the same!

"These are the sixteen tokens by which a foe you see
These if a wise man sees or hears he knows his enemy 2."

[198] "How should the wise and prudent strive, what will discernment lend,
What deeds declare to eye and ear the man that is a friend?"

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The other, thus questioned in these lines, recited the remaining stanzas:

"The absent he remembers; returned, he will rejoice:
Then in the height of his delight he greets you with his voice.

"Your foes he never honours, he loves to serve your friends,
Those who would slander you, he stays; who praise you, he commends.

"He tells his secrets to you, your secret ne’er betrays,
Speaks ever well of all you do, your wisdom loves to praise.

"He joys to hear your welfare, not in your evil fame:
Should he receive some dainty, he straight thinks on your name,
And pities you, and cries aloud-O had my friend the same!

"These are the sixteen tokens in friends established well,
Which if a wise man sees or hears he can a true friend tell."

[199] The king, delighted at the speech of the Great Being, gave him the highest honour.

The Master, having ended this discourse, said, "Thus, great king, this question arose in days of yore, even as now, and wise men said their say; by these two-and-thirty signs may friend or foe be known." With those words, he identified the Birth: "At that time, Ānanda was the king, and I myself was the wise courtier."


122:1 This couplet has occurred already in vol. ii. p. 92, of the translation.

122:2 This also occurs above, vol. ii. p. 92, of this translation (two words differ).

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No. 474.


[200] "Young student, when," etc. This story the Master told while dwelling in Jetavana, about Devadatta. Devadatta repudiated his teacher, saying, "I will be Buddha myself, and Gotama the ascetic is no teacher or monitor of mine!" So, aroused from his mystic meditation, he made a breach in the Order. Then step by step he proceeded to Sāvatthi, and outside Jetavana, the earth yawned, and he went down into the hell Avīci.

Then they were all talking of it in the Hall of Truth:—"Brother, Devadatta deserted his Teacher, and came to dire destruction, being born to another life in the deep hell Avīci!" The Master, entering, asked what they spoke of, and they told him. Said he,—"Not now only, but in former days, as now, Devadatta deserted his teacher, and came to dire destruction." So saying, he told a story of the past.

Once upon a time, when Brahmadatta was King of Benares, his chaplain's family was destroyed by malarial fever 1. One son only broke through the wall 2 and escaped. He came to Takkasilā, and under a world-renowned teacher learnt all the arts and accomplishments. Then he bade his teacher farewell, and departed, with the intent to travel in different regions; and on his travels he arrived at a frontier village. Near to this was a great village of low-caste Caṇḍālas. Then the Bodhisatta abode in this village, a learned sage. A charm he knew which could make fruit to be gathered out of due season. Early of a morning he would take his carrying pole, forth from that village he would go, until he reached a mango tree which grew in the forest; and standing seven foot off, he would recite that charm, 1 2 and throw a handful of water so as to strike on that tree. In a twinkling down fall the sere

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leaves, sprout forth the new, flowers blow and flowers fall, the mango fruits swell out: but one moment—they are ripe, they are sweet and luscious, they grow like fruit divine, they drop from the tree! The Great Being chooses and eats such as he will, then fills the baskets hung from his pole, goes home and sells the fruit, and so finds a living for wife and child.

Now the young brahmin saw the Great Being offer ripe mangoes for sale out of season. "Without doubt," thought he, "it must be by virtue of some charm that these are grown. This man can teach me a charm which has no price." He watched to see the manner in which the Great Being procured his fruit, and found it out exactly. Then he went to the Great Being's house at the time when he was not yet returned from the forest, and making as though he knew nothing, asked the wise man's wife, "Where is the Teacher?" Quoth she, "Gone to the woods." He stood waiting until he saw him come, then went to him, and taking the pole and baskets from him, carried them into the house and there set them. The Great Being looked at him, and said to his wife, "Lady, this youth has come to get the charm; but no charm will stay with him, for no good man is he." But the youth was thinking, "I will get the charm by being my teacher's servant;" and so from that time he did all that was to be done in the house: brought wood, pounded the rice, did the cooking, brought all that was needed for washing the face, washed the feet.

One day when the Great Being said to him, "My son, bring me a stool to support my feet," the youth, seeing no other way, kept the Great Teacher's feet on his own thigh all night. When at a later season the Great Being's wife brought forth a son, he did all the service that has to be done at a childbirth. The wife said one day to the Great Being: "Husband, this lad, well-born though he is, for the charm's sake performs menial service for us. Let him have the charm, whether it stays with him or no." To this he agreed. 2 He taught him the charm, and spoke after this fashion: "My son, ’tis a priceless charm; and you will get great gain and honour thereby. But when the king, or his great minister, shall ask you who was your teacher, do not conceal my name; for if you are ashamed that a low-caste man taught you the charm, and say your teacher was a great magnate of the brahmins, you will have no fruit of the charm." "Why should I hide your name?" quoth the lad. "Whenever I am asked, I shall say it is you." Then he saluted his teacher, and from the low-caste village he departed, pondering on the charm, and in due time came to Benares. There he sold mangoes, and gained much wealth.

Now on a day the keeper of the park presented to the king a mango which he had bought from him. The king, having eaten it, asked whence

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he procured so fine a fruit. "My lord," was the answer, "there is a young man who brings mangoes out of season, and sells them: from him I procured it." "Tell him," says the king," from henceforth to bring the mangoes hither to me." This the man did; and from that time the young man took his mangoes to the king's household. The king, inviting him to enter his service, he became a servant of the king; and gaining great wealth, by degrees he grew into the king's confidence.

One day the king asked him, and said:—"Young man, where do you get these mangoes out of season, so sweet and fragrant and of fine colour? Does some serpent or garuḷa give them to you, or a god, or is this the power of magic?" "No one gives them to me, O mighty king!" replied the young man, "but I have a priceless charm, and this is the power of the charm." "Well, what do you say to showing me the power of the charm one of these days?" "By all means, my lord, and so I will," quoth he. Next day the king went with him into the park, and asked to be shown this charm. The young man was willing, and approaching a mango tree, stood at a distance of seven foot from it, and repeated the charm, throwing water against the tree. On the instant the mango tree had fruit in the manner above described: 2 3 a shower of mangoes fell, a very storm; the company showed great delight, waving their kerchiefs; the king ate of the fruit, and gave him a great reward, and said, "Young man, who taught you this charm so marvellous?" Now thought the young man, If I say a low-caste caṇḍāla taught me, I shall be put to shame, and they will flout at me; I know the charm by heart, and now I can never lose it; well, I will say it was a world-renowned teacher. So he lied, and said, "I learnt it at Takkasilā, from a teacher renowned the wide world over." As he said the words, denying his teacher, that very instant the charm was gone. But the king, greatly pleased, returned with him into the city.

On another day the king desired mangoes to eat; and going into the park, and taking his seat upon a stone bench, which was used on state occasions, he bade the youth get him mangoes. The youth, willing enough, went up to a mango tree, and standing at a distance of seven foot from the tree, set about repeating the charm; but the charm would not come. Then he knew that he had lost it, and stood there ashamed. But the king thought, "Formerly this fellow gave me mangoes even in the midst of a crowd, and like a heavy shower the fruit rained down. Now there he stands like a stock: what can the reason be?" Which he enquired by repeating the first stanza:

"Young student, when I asked it you of late,
You brought me mango fruit both small and great:
    Now no fruit, brahmin, on the tree appears,
Though the same charm you still reiterate!"

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When he heard this, the young man thought to himself, if he should say this day no fruit was to be had, the king would be wroth; wherefore he thought to deceive him with a lie, and repeated the second stanza:

"The hour and moment suit not: so wait I
Fit junction of the planets in the sky.
[204]    The due conjunction and the moment come,
Then will I bring you mangoes plenteously."

"What is this?" the king wondered. "The fellow said nothing of planetary conjunctions before!" To resolve which questions, he repeated two stanzas:

"You said no word of times and seasons, nor
Of planetary junctions heretofore:
    But mangoes, fragrant, delicate in taste,
Of colour fine, you brought in plenteous store.

"Aforetime, brahmin, you produced so well
Fruit on the tree by muttering of your spell:
    To-day you cannot, mutter as you may.
What means this conduct, I would have you tell?"

Hearing this, the youth thought, "There is no deceiving the king with lies. If, when the truth is told, he punishes me, let him punish me: but the truth I will tell." Then he recited two stanzas:

"A low-caste man my teacher was, who taught
Duly and well the charm, and how it wrought:
    Saying, "If you are asked my name and birth,
Hide nothing, or the charm will come to nought."

"Asked by the Lord of Men, though well I knew,
Yet in deceit I said what was not true;
    "A brahmin's spells," I lying said; and now,
Charm lost, my folly bitterly I rue."

[205] This heard, the king thought within himself, "The sinful man to take no care of such a treasure! When one has a treasure so priceless, what has birth to do with it?" And in anger he repeated the following stanzas:

"Nimb, castor oil, or plassey tree 1, whatever be the tree
Where he who seeks finds honeycombs, ’tis best of trees, thinks he.

"Be it Khattiya, Brahmin, Vessa, he from whom a man learns right—
Sudda, Caṇḍāla, Pukkusa—seems chiefest in his sight 2."

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"Punish the worthless churl, or even slay,
Hence hale him by the throat without delay,
    Who having gained a treasure with great toil,
Throws it with overweening pride away!"

The king's men so did, saying, "Go back to your teacher, and win his forgiveness; then, if you can learn the charm once more, you may come hither again, but if not, never more may you set eyes on this country." Thus they banished him.

The man was all forlorn. "There is no refuge for me," he thought, "except my teacher. To him I will go, and win his pardon, and learn the charm again." So lamenting he went on his way to that village. 2 6 The Great Being perceived him coming, and pointed him out to his wife, saying, "See, lady, there comes that scoundrel again, with his charm lost and gone!" The man approached the Great Being, and greeted him, and sat on one side. "Why are you here?" asked the other. "O my teacher!" the man said, "I uttered a lie, and denied my teacher, and I am utterly ruined and undone!" Then he recited his transgression in a stanza, asking again for the charms:

"Oft he who thinks the level ground is lying at his foot,
Falls in a pool, pit, precipice, trips on a rotten root;
Another treads what seems a cord, a jet-black snake to find;
Another steps into the fire because his eyes are blind:
So I have sinned, and lost my spell; but you, O teacher wise,
Forgive! and let me once again find favour in your eyes!"

Then his teacher replied, "What say you, my son? Give but a sign to the blind, he goes me clear of pools and what not; but I told it to you once, and what do you want here now?" Then he repeated the following stanzas:

"To you in right due manner I did tell,
You in due manner rightly learnt the spell,
    Full willingly its nature I explained:
Ne’er had it left you, had you acted well.

[207] "Who with much toil, O fool! hath learnt a spell
Full hard for those who now in this world dwell,
    Then, foolish one! a living gained at last,
Throws all away, because he lies will tell,

"To such a fool, unwise, of lying fain,
Ungrateful, who can not himself restrain,—
    Spells, quotha! mighty spells we give not him:
Go hence away, and ask me not again!"

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Thus dismissed by his teacher, the man thought, "What is life to me?" and plunging into the woods, died forlorn.

The Master having made an end of this discourse, said, "Not now only, Brother, has Devadatta denied his teacher, and come to dire destruction;" and so saying, he identified the Birth: "At that time Devadatta was the ungrateful man, Ānanda was the king, and I was the low caste man."


124:1 See No. 178, and note on p. 55 of vol. ii. of this translation.

124:2 See l.c. note 2.

127:1 Butea Frondosa. As Plassey was named from this tree, it is perhaps admissible as a name of the tree.

127:2 These are the names of six castes: Kshatriya, Brāhman, Vaiçya, Çūdra, the four castes familiar in Sanskrit books, together with two Caṇḍāla and Pukkaça, both mixed castes and much despised. More about these castes, and the Buddhist system as contrasted with the Brahminical, may be seen in R. Fick's Sociale Gliederung im N.-Ö.p. 128 Indien zu Buddha's Zeit, Kiel, 1897. Fick denies that the Suddas were ever a real caste (p. 202). For Caṇḍāla, see p. 203; for Pukkusa, p. 206; both, in his opinion, non-Aryan subject races, serfs almost. The order of the list in our verse should be noticed. The Jātaka gives the Khattiyas, or Warriors, precedence over the Brahmins.

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No. 475.


"O man, who stand," etc.—This story the Master told on the bank of the river Rohiṇī, about a family quarrel. The circumstances will be described at large under the Kuṇāla 1 Birth. On this occasion the Master addressed himself to the kinsmen, O king, and said:

Once upon a time, when Brahmadatta was king of Benares, there stood without the city a village of carpenters. In it was a brahmin carpenter, who gained his livelihood by bringing wood from the forest, and making carts.

At that time there was a great plassey 2 tree in the region of Himalaya. 2 A black Lion used to go and lie at its root when a-hunting for food. One day a wind smote the tree, and a dry branch fell, and came down upon his shoulder. The blow gave him pain, and speedily in fear he uprose, and sprang away; then turning, he looked on the path he came by, and seeing nothing, thought, "There is no other lion or tiger, nor any in pursuit. Well, methinks, the deity of yon tree cannot away with my lying there. I will find out if so it be." So thinking, he grew angry out of season, and struck the tree, and cried—"Not a leaf on your tree I eat, not a branch I break; you can put up with other creatures abiding here, and you cannot put up with me! What is wrong with me? Wait

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a few days, and I will tear you out root and branch, I will get you chopt up chipmeal!" Thus he upbraided the deity of the tree, and then away he went in search of a man.

At that time the brahmin carpenter aforesaid with two or three other men, had come in a waggon to that neighbourhood to get wood for his trade of cartwright. He left his waggon in a certain spot, and then adze and hatchet in hand went searching for trees. He happened to come near this plassey tree. The Lion seeing him went and stood under the tree, for, thought he, "to-day I must see the back of my enemy!" But the wright looking this way and that fled from the neighbourhood of the tree. "I will speak to him before he gets quite away," thought the Lion, and repeated the first stanza:

"O man, who stand with axe in hand, within this woodland haunt,
Come tell me true, I ask of you, what tree is it you want?"

"Lo, a miracle!" quoth the man, on hearing this address, "I swear, I never yet saw beast that could talk like a man. 2 Of course he will know what kinds of wood are good for the cartwright. I'll ask him." Thus thinking, he repeated the second stanza:

"Up hill, down dale, along the plain, a king you range the wood:
Come tell me true, I ask of you—what tree for wheels is good?"

The Lion listened, and said to himself, "Now I shall gain my heart's desire!" then he repeated the third stanza:

"Not sál, acacia, not mare's-ear 1, much less a shrub 2 is good;
There is a tree they call plassey, and there's your best wheel-wood."

The man was pleased to hear this, and thought, "A happy day it was brought me into the woodland. Here's a creature in the shape of a beast to tell me what wood is good for the wheelwright! Hey, but that's fine!" So he questioned the Lion in the fourth stanza:

"What is the fashion of the leaves, what sort the trunk to see,
Come tell me true, I ask of you, that I may know that tree?"

In reply the Lion repeated two stanzas:

"This is the tree whose branch you see droop, bend, but never break;
This is the plassey, on whose roots my standing-place I take.

"For spoke or felloe, pole of car, or wheel, or any part,
This plassey tree will do for thee in making of a cart."

After this declaration, the Lion moved aside, joy in his heart. The wright began to fell the tree. Then the tree-deity thought, "I never dropt anything on that beast; he fell in a rage out of season, and now he

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is for destroying my home, and I too shall be destroyed. 1 2 I must find some way of destroying his majesty." So assuming the shape of a woodman, he came up to the wright, and said to him, "Ho man! a fine tree you have there! what will you do with it when it is down?"—"Make a cart wheel."—"What! has any one told you that tree is good for a cart?" "Yes, a black Lion."—"Very good, well said black Lion. You can make a fine cart out of that tree, says he. But I tell you that if you flay off the skin from a black lion's neck, and put it around the outer edge of the wheel, like a sheath of iron, just a strip four fingers wide, the wheel will be very strong, and you will gain a great deal by it."—"But where can I get the skin of a black lion?"—"How stupid you are! The tree stands fast in the forest, and won't run away. You go and find the lion who told you about this tree, and ask him in what part of the tree you are to cut, and bring him here. Then while he suspects nothing, and points out this place or that, wait till he sticks his jaw out, and smite him as he speaks with your sharpest axe, kill him, take the skin, eat the best of the flesh, and fell the tree at your leisure." Thus he indulged his wrath.

To explain this matter, the Master repeated the following stanzas:

"Thus did at once the plassey tree his will and wish make clear:
"I too a message have to tell: O Bhāradvāja, hear!

"'From shoulder of the king of beasts cut off four inches wide,
And put it round the wheel, for so more strong it will abide."

"So in a trice the plassey tree, indulging in his ire,
On lions born and those unborn brought down destruction dire."

The cartwright hearing the tree-deity's directions, cried out, "Ah, this is a lucky day for me!" He killed the Lion, cut down the tree, and away he went.

[211] The Master explained the matter by reciting:

"Thus plassey tree contends with beast 1, and beast with tree contends,
So each with mutual dispute to death the other sends.

"So among men, where’er a feud or quarrel doth arise,
They, as the beast and tree did now, cut capers peacock-wise 2.

"This tell I you, that well is you what time ye are at one:
Be of one mind, and quarrel not, as beast and tree have done.

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"Learn peace with all men; this the wise all praise; and who is fain
Of peace and righteousness, he sure will final peace attain."

When they heard the discourse of the king, they were reconciled.

The Master, having brought this discourse to an end, identified the Birth: "At that time, I was the deity who lived in that wood, and saw the whole business."


129:1 No. 536.

129:2 The phandana ( ) is a tree of the same kind as the palāṣa, "butea frondosa."

130:1 Vatica Robusta: so called from the shape of its leaves.

130:2 dhavo: Grislea Tomentosa.

131:1 The word is īso, "lord," i.e. lion, king of beasts. So above.

131:2 The scholiast explains that men expose themselves in a quarrel, as peacocks expose their privy parts. This is perhaps an allusion to No. 32.

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The Jataka, Vol. IV, tr. by W.H.D. Rouse, [1901], at

No. 476.


"Come, Goose," etc.—This story the Master told at Jetavana about the Daḷḥadhamma Suttanta or the Parable of the Strong Men. The Blessed One said: "Suppose, Brethren, four archers to stand at the four points of the compass, strong men, well trained and of great skill, perfect in archery and then let a man come and say, "If these four archers, strong, well trained, and of great skill, perfect in archery 1 2 shoot forth arrows from four points, I will catch those arrows as they are shot, and before they touch the ground": would you not agree, sure enough, that he must be a very swift man and the perfection of swiftness? Well, Brethren, great as the swiftness of such a man might be, great as the swiftness of sun and moon, there is something swifter: great, I say, Brethren, as the swiftness of such a man might be, great as the swiftness of the sun and moon, and though the gods outfly sun or moon in swiftness, there is something swifter than the gods: great, Brethren, as the swiftness of that man (and so forth), yet more swiftly than the gods can go, the elements which make up life do decay. Therefore, Brethren, this ye must learn, to be careful; verily I say unto you, this ye must learn." Two days after this teaching, they were talking about it in the Hall of Truth: "Brethren, the Master in his own peculiar province as Buddha, illustrating the nature of what makes up life, showed it to be transient and weak, and smote with extreme terror Brethren and unconverted alike. Oh, the might of a Buddha!" The Master entering asked what they talked of. They told him; and he said, "It is no marvel, Brethren, if I in my omniscience alarm the Brethren by my teaching, and show how transient are life's elements. Even I, when without natural cause 1 I was conceived by a Goose, showed forth the transient nature of the elements of life, and by my teaching alarmed the whole court of a king, together with the king of Benares himself." So saying, he told a story of the past.

Once upon a time, when Brahmadatta was king in Benares, the Great Being was born as a swift Goose, which lived in Mount Cittakūṭa in a

p. 133

flock of ninety thousand other such Geese. One day, having along with his flock eaten the wild rice that grew in a certain pool in the plains of India, he flew through the air (and it was as though a golden mat were spread from end to end of the city of Benares), and he flew slowly as in sport to Cittakūṭa. Now the king of Benares saw him; and said to his courtiers, "Yon bird must be a king, as I am." He took a fancy to the bird, and taking with him garlands, perfumes and unguents, went looking for the Great Being; and with him he caused to go all manner of musick. When the Great Being saw him doing honour in this way, he asked the other Geese, 1 2 3 "When a king would do such honour to me, what does he want?" "He wants to make friends with you, my lord." "Well, let me be friends with the king," quoth he; and he made friends with the king, and then returned.

One day after this, when the king was in his park, and went to Lake Anotatta, the bird flew to the king, having water on one wing and powder of sandalwood on the other; with the water he sprinkled the king, and cast the powder upon him, then while the company looked on, away he flew with his flock to Cittakūṭa. From that time the king used to long for the Great Being; he would linger, watching the way by which he came, and thinking—"To-day my comrade will come."

Now the two youngest Geese belonging to the flock of the Great Being, made up their minds to fly a race with the sun; so they asked leave of the Great Being, to try a race with the sun. "My lads," quoth he, "the sun's speed is swift, and you will never be able to race with him. You will perish in the course, so do not go." A second time they asked, and a third time; but the Bodhisatta withstood them up to the third time of asking. But they stood to it, not knowing their own strength, and were resolved without telling the king to fly with the sun. So before sunrise they had taken their places on the peak of the Mount Yugandhara 1. The Great Being missed them, and asked whither they had gone. When he heard what had happened, he thought, "They will never be able to fly with the sun, but will perish in the course. I will save their lives." So he too went to the peak of Yugandhara, and sat beside them. When the sun's round showed over the horizon, the young Geese rose, and darted forward along with the sun; the Great Being flew forward with them. The youngest flew on into the forenoon, then grew faint; in the joints of his wings he felt as if a fire had been kindled. Then he made a signal to the Great Being: "Brother, I can't do it!" "Fear not," said the Great Being, "I will save you;" and taking him on his outspread wings, he soothed him, and conveyed him to Mount Cittakūṭa, and placed him in the midst of the Geese. Then he flew off, and catching up the sun, went

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on side by side with the other. Until near midday 1 2 4 the other flew with the sun, and then he grew faint and felt as though a fire had been kindled in the joints of his wings. Making a sign to the Great Being, he cried, "Brother, I cannot do it!" Him too the Great Being comforted in the same way, and taking him on his outspread wings, bore him to Cittakūṭa. At that moment the sun was plumb overhead. The Great Being thought, "To-day I will test the sun's strength;" and darting back with one swoop, he perched on Yugandhara. Then rising with one swoop he overtook the sun, and flying now in front, now behind, thought to himself, "For me to fly with the sun is profitless, born of mere folly: what is he to me? Away I will to Benares, and there tell my comrade the king a message of righteousness and truth." Then turning, ere yet the sun had moved from the middle of the sky, he traversed the whole world from end to end; then slackening speed, traversed from end to end the whole of India, and came at last to Benares. The whole city, twelve leagues in compass, was as it were under the bird's shadow 1, there was not a crack or crevice; then as by degrees the speed slackened, holes and crevices appeared in the sky. The Great Being went slower, and came down from the air, and alighted in front of a window. "My comrade is come!" cried the king in great joy; and getting a golden seat for the bird to perch on, said, "Come in, friend, and sit here," and recited the first stanza:

"Come, noble Goose, come sit you here; dear is your sight to me;
Now you are master of the place; choose anything you see."

The Great Being perched on the golden seat. The king anointed him under the wings with unguents a hundred times refined, nay, a thousand times, gave him sweet rice and sugared water in a golden dish, and talked with him in a voice of honey—[215] "Good friend, you have come alone; whence come you now?" The bird told him the whole matter at large. Then the king said to him: "Friend, show me too your swiftness against the sun."—"O mighty king, that swiftness cannot be shown."—"Then show me something like it." "Very good, O king, I will show you something like it. Summon your archers who can shoot swift as lightning." The king sent for them. The Great Being chose four of these, and with them went down from the palace into the courtyard. There he caused to be set up in the ground a stone column, and about his own neck a bell to be bound. He then perched on the top of the stone pillar, and placing the four archers looking away from the pillar towards the four points, said, "O king, let these four men shoot four arrows at the same moment in four

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different directions, and I will catch these arrows before they touch the ground, and lay them at the men's feet. You will know when I am gone for the arrows by the tinkling of this bell, but I shall not be seen." Then all at one moment the men shot the four arrows; he caught them and laid them at the men's feet, and was seen to be sitting upon the pillar. "Did you see my speed, O king?" he asked; then went on "that speed, O great king, is not my swiftest nor my middle speed, ’tis my slowest of the slow: and this will show you how swift I am." Then the king asked him, "Well, friend, is there any speed swifter than yours?" "There is, my friend. Swifter than my swiftest a hundredfold, a thousandfold, nay a hundred thousandfold, is the decay of the elements of life in living beings: so they crumble away, so they are destroyed." Thus he made clear, how the world of form crumbles away, being destroyed moment by moment. The king hearing this was in fear of death, could not keep his senses, but fell in a faint. The multitude were in despair, they sprinkled the king's face with water, and brought him round. Then the Great Being said to him, "O great king, fear not; 1 2 6 but remember death. Walk in righteousness, give alms and do good, be careful." Then the king answered and said, "My lord, without a wise teacher like you I cannot live, do not return 1 to mount Cittakūṭa, but stay here, instruct me, be my teacher to teach me!" and he put this request in two stanzas:

"By hearing of the loved one love is fed,
By sight the craving for the lost falls dead:
    Since sight and hearing makes men lief and dear,
With sight of you let me be favouréd.

"Dear is your voice, and dearer far your presence when I see:
Then since I love the sight of you, O Goose, come dwell with me!"

The Bodhisatta said:

"Ever would I dwell with thee, in the honour thus conferred;
But thou mightst say in wine one day—"Broil me that royal Bird!"

[217] "No," said the king, "then I will never touch wine or strong drink," and he made this promise in the following stanza:

"Accursed be both food and drink I should love more than thee;
And I will taste no drop nor sup while thou shalt stay with me!"

After this the Bodhisatta recited six stanzas:

"The cry of jackals or of birds is understood with ease;
Yea, but the word of men, O king, is darker far than these!

"A man may think, "this is my friend, my comrade, of my kin,"
But friendship goes, and often hate and enmity begin 2.

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"Who has your heart, is near to you, with you, where er he be;
But who dwells with you, and your heart estranged, afar is he.

"Who in your house of kindly heart shall be
Is kindly still though far across the sea:
Who in your house shall hostile be of heart,
Hostile he is though ocean-wide apart.

"Thy foes, O lord of chariots! though near thee, are afar:
But, fosterer of thy realm! the good in heart close linkèd are.

"Who stay too long, find oftentimes that friend is changed to foe;
Then ere I lose your friendship, I will take my leave, and go."

[218] Then the king said to him:

"Though I with folded hands beseech, you will not give me ear;
You spare no word for us, to whom your service would be dear
I crave one favour: come again and pay a visit here."

Then the Bodhisatta said:

"If nothing comes to snap our life, O king! if you and I
Still live, O fosterer of thy folk! perhaps I'll hither fly,
And we may see each other yet, as days and nights go by."

With this address to the king, the Great Being departed to Cittakūṭa.

When the Master had ended this discourse, he said: "Thus, Brethren, long ago, even when I was born as one of the animals, I showed the frailty of all life's elements, and declared the Truth." So saying, he identified the Birth: "At that time Ānanda was the king, Moggallāna was the youngest bird, Sāriputta was the second, the Buddha's followers were all Geese of the flock, and I myself was the swift Goose."


132:1 A mode of coming into existence all of a sudden, without the natural processes.

133:1 One of the seven great ranges that surround Mount Meru.

134:1 The meaning is, the bird circled so fast over it as to give the appearance of a canopy. So on p. 133 of the "golden mat."

135:1 Reading agantvā in line 4.

135:2 These two couplets occur again in No. 478 (p. 141).

The Jataka, Vol. IV: No. 477.: Culla-Nārada-Jātaka.

The Jataka, Vol. IV, tr. by W.H.D. Rouse, [1901], at

No. 477.


[219] "No wood is chopt," etc.—This story the Master told, while dwelling at Jetavana, about the allurements of a coarse girl.

There was then, we learn, a girl of about sixteen, daughter of a citizen of Sāvatthi, such as might bring good luck to a man, yet no man chose her. So her mother thought to herself: "This my daughter is of full age, yet no one chooses her. I will use her as a bait for a fish, and make one of those Sākiya ascetics come back to the world, and live upon him." At the time there was a young man of good birth living in Sāvatthi, who had given his heart to religion and joined the Brotherhood. But from the time when he had received full Orders he had lost all desire for learning, and lived devoted to the adornment of his

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person. The lay Sister used to prepare in her house rice gruel, and other food hard or soft, and standing at the door, as the Brethren walked along the streets, looked out for some one who could be tempted by the craving for delicacies. Streaming by went a crowd of men who kept the Tepiṭaka, Abhidhaṃma, and Vinaya; but among them she saw none ready to rise to her bait. Among the figures with bowl and robe, preachers of the Truth with honey-sweet voice, moving like fleecy scud before the wind, she saw not one. But at last she perceived a man approaching, the outer corners of his eyes anointed, hair hanging down, wearing an under-robe of fine cloth, and an outer robe shaken and cleansed, bearing a bowl coloured like some precious gem, and a sunshade after his own heart, a man who let his senses have their own way, his body much bronzed. "Here is a man I can catch!" thought she; and greeting him, she took his bowl, and invited him into the house. She found him a seat, and provided rice gruel and all the rest; then after the meal, begged him to make that house his resort in future. So he used to visit the house after that, and in course of time became intimate.

One day, the lay Sister said in his hearing, "In this household we are happy enough, only I have no son or son-in-law capable of keeping it up." The man heard it, and wondering what reason she could have for so saying, in a little while was as it were pierced to the heart. She said to her daughter, "Tempt this man, and get him into your power." So the girl after that time decked herself and adorned herself, and tempted him with all women's tricks and wiles. 2 (You must understand that a "coarse" girl does not mean one whose body is fat, but be she fat or be she thin, by power of the five sensual passions she is called "coarse.") Then the man, being young and under the power of passion, thought in his heart, "I cannot now hold to the Buddha's religion" ; and he went to the monastery, and laying down bowl and robe, said to his spiritual teachers, "I am discontented." Then they conducted him to the Master, and said, "Sir, this Brother is discontented." "Is this true which they say," asked he, "that you are discontented, Brother?" "Yes, Sir, true it is." "Then what made you so?" "A coarse girl, Sir." "Brother," said he, "long, long ago, when you were living in the forest, this same girl was a hindrance to your holiness, and did you great harm; then why are you again discontented on her account?" Then at the request of the Brethren he told a story of the past.

Once upon a time, when Brahmadatta was king in Benares, the Bodhisatta was born into a brahmin family of great wealth, and after his education was finished managed the estate. Then his wife brought forth a son, and died. He thought, "As in my beloved wife, so in me death shall not be ashamed 1; what is a home to me? I will become an ascetic." So forsaking his lusts, he went with his son to Himalaya; and there with him entered upon the ascetic life, developed the mystic Trance and transcendent Knowledge, and dwelt in the woods, supporting life on fruits and roots.

At that time the borderers raided the countryside; and having assailed a town, and taken prisoners, laden with spoil they returned to the border. Amongst them was a maiden, beautiful, but endowed with all a hypocrite's cunning. This girl thought to herself, "These men, when they have carried us off home, will use us as slaves; I must find some

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way to escape." So she said, "My lord, I wish to retire; let me go and stay away for a moment." Thus she deceived the robbers, and fled.

Now the Bodhisatta had gone out to fetch fruits and the like 1, leaving his son in the hut. While he was away, this girl, as she wandered about in the forest, came to the hut, in the morning; 1 2 and tempting the son of the ascetic with desire of love, destroyed his virtue, and got him under her power. She said to him, "Why dwell here in the forest? Come, let us go to a village and make a home for ourselves. There it is easy to enjoy all the pleasures and passions of sense." He consented, and said, "My father is now out in the woods looking for wild fruits. When we have seen him, we will both go away together." Then the girl thought, "This young innocent knows nothing; but his father must have become an ascetic in his old age. When he comes in, he will want to know what I do here, and beat me, and drag me out by the feet, and throw me into the forest. I will get clear away before he comes." So she said to the lad, "I will go first, and you may follow" ; then pointing out the landmarks, she departed. After she had gone, the lad became sorrowful, and did none of his duties as he was used; but wrapt himself up head and all, and lay down within the hut, fretting.

When the Great Being came in with his wild fruits, he observed the girl's footmark. "That is a woman's footprint," thought he; "my son's virtue must have been lost." Then he entered the hut, and laid down the wild fruit, and put the question to his son by repeating the first stanza:

"No wood is chopt, and you have brought no water from the pool,
No fire is kindled: why do you lie mooning like a fool?"

Hearing his father's voice, the lad rose, and greeted him; and with all respect made known that he could not endure a forest life, repeating a couple of stanzas:

"I cannot live in forests: this, O Kassapa, I swear;
Hard is the woodland life, and back to men 2 I would repair.

"Teach me, O brahmin, when I leave, that wheresoe’er I go,
The customs of the countryside I may most fully know."

[222] "Very good, my son," said the Great Being, "I will tell you the customs of the country." And he repeated this couple of stanzas:

"If ’tis your mind to leave behind the woodland fruits and roots
And dwell in cities, hear me teach the way which that life suits:

"Keep clear of every precipice, from poison keep afar,
Sit never in the mud, and walk with care where serpents are."

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The ascetic's son, not understanding this pithy counsel, asked:

"What has your precipice to do with the religious way,
Your mud, your poison, and your snake? Come tell me this, I pray."

The other explained—

"There is a liquor in the world, my son, that men call wine,
Fragrant, delicious, honey-sweet, and cheap, of flavour fine:
    This, Nārada, for holy men is poison, say the wise.

"And women in the world can set fools' wits a whirling round,
They catch young hearts, as hurricanes catch cotton from the ground:
    The precipice I mean is this before the good man lies.

"High honours shown by other men, respect and fame and gain,
This is the mud, O Nārada, which holy men may stain.

"Great monarchs with their retinue have in that world dwelling,
And they are great, O Nārada, and each a mighty king:

[223] "Before the feet of sovereign lords and monarchs walk not thou,
For, Nārada, these are the snakes of whom I spake just now.

"The house thou comest to for food, when men sit down to meat,
If thou see good within that house, there take thy fill, and eat.

"When by another entertained with food or drink, this do:
Eat not too much, nor drink too much, and fleshly lusts eschew.

"From gossip, drink, lewd company, and shops of goldsmith's ware,
Keep thou afar as those who by the uneven pathway fare."

As his father went on talking and talking, the lad came to his senses, and said, "Enough of the world for me, dear father!" 2 4 Then his father instructed him how to develop kindliness and other good feelings. The son followed his father's instruction, and ere long caused the ecstasy of mystic meditation to spring up within him. And both of them, father and son, without a break in the trance, were born again in the world of Brahma.

When the Master had ended this discourse, he identified the Birth: "At that time this coarse girl was the young woman, the discontented Brother was the ascetic's son, and I was the father."


137:1 I.e. it shall master me too one day.

138:1 Cf. No. 435, Vol. iii.

138:2 Literally "the Kingdom."

The Jataka, Vol. IV: No. 478.: Dūta-Jātaka.

The Jataka, Vol. IV, tr. by W.H.D. Rouse, [1901], at

No. 478.


"O plunged in thought," etc.—This story the Master told while dwelling at Jetavana, about praise of his own wisdom. In the Hall of Truth they were gossiping: "See, Brothers, the Dasabala's skill in resource! He showed that young

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gentleman Nanda 1 the host of nymphs, and gave him sainthood; he gave a cloth to his little foot-page 2, and bestowed sainthood on him along with the four branches of mystic science 3; to the blacksmith he showed a lotus, and gave him sainthood; with what diverse expedients he instructs living beings!" The Master entering asked what they sat talking of; they told him. Said he, "It is not the first time that the Tathāgata has been skilled in resource, and clever to know what will have the desired effect; clever he was before." So saying, he told a story of the past.

Once upon a time, when Brahmadatta was king of Benares, the country was without gold; for the king oppressed the country and so got treasure. At that time the Bodhisatta was born in a brahmin family of a certain village in Kāsi. When he came of age, he went to Takkasilā, saying, "I will get money to pay my teacher afterwards, by soliciting alms honourably." He acquired learning, and when his education was done, he said, "I will use all diligence, my teacher, to bring you the money due for your teaching." Then taking leave of him, he departed, and traversing the land sought alms. When he had honourably and fairly got a few ounces 4 of gold, he set out to hand them over to his teacher; and on the way went aboard a boat in order to cross the Ganges. As the boat swayed to and fro on the water, the gold fell in. Then he thought, "This is a country hard to get gold in; 2 5 if I go seeking again for money to pay my teacher withal, there will be long delay. What if I sit fasting on the bank of the Ganges? The king will by and bye come to learn of my sitting here, and he will send some of his courtiers, but I will have nothing to say to them. Then the king himself will come, and by that means I shall get my teacher's fee from him." So he wrapt about him his upper robe, and putting outside the sacrificial thread, sat on the bank of the Ganges, like a statue of gold upon the silver sand. The passing crowds, seeing him sit there and take no food, asked him why he sat. But he had never a word for one of them. Next day the villagers of the suburb got wind of his sitting there, and they too came and asked, but he told them no more; the villagers seeing his exhausted condition went away lamenting. On the third day came people from the city, on the fourth came the city grandees, on the fifth those about the king, on the sixth day the king sent his ministers; but to none of them would the man speak.

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[paragraph continues] On the seventh day the king in alarm came to the man, and asked an explanation, reciting the first stanza:

"O plunged in thought on Ganges' bank, why spoke you not again
In answer to my messages? Will you conceal your pain?"

When this he heard, the Great Being replied, "O great king! the sorrow must be told to him that is able to take it away, and to no other:" and he repeated seven stanzas:

"O fostering lord of Kāsi land! if sorrow be your lot,
Tell not that sorrow to a soul if he can help it not.

"But whosoever can relieve one part of it by right,
To him let all his wish declare each sorrow-stricken wight.

"The cry of jackals or of birds is understood with ease;
Yea, but the word of men, O King, is darker far than these. 1

[226] "A man may think, "This is my friend, my comrade, of my kin":
But friendship goes, and often hate and enmity begin! 1

"He who not being asked and asked again
Out of due season will declare his pain,
    Surely displeases those who are his friends,
And they who wish him well lament amain.

"Knowing fit time for speaking how to find,
Knowing a wise man of a kindred mind,
    The wise to such a one his woe declares,
In gentle words with meaning hid behind.

"But should he see that nothing can amend
His hardships, and that telling them will tend
    To no good issue, let the wise alone
Endure, reserved and shamefast to the end."

[227] Thus did the Great Being discourse in these seven stanzas to teach the king; and then repeated four others to show his search for money to pay the teacher withal:

"O King! whole kingdoms I have scoured, the cities of each king,
Each town or village, craving alms, my teacher's fee to bring.

"Householder, courtier, man of wealth, brahmin—at every door
Seeking, a little gold I gained, an ounce or two, no more.
Now that is lost, O mighty king! and so I grieve full sore.

"No power had your messengers to free me from my pain:—
I weigh’d them well, O mighty king! so I did not explain.

"But thou hast power, O mighty king! to free me from my pain,
For I have weighed your merit well; to you I do explain."

When the king read his utterance, he replied, "Trouble not, brahmin, for I will give you your teacher's fee;" and he restored him two-fold.

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To make this clear the Master repeated the last stanza:

"The fostering lord of Kāsi land did to this man restore
(In fullest trust) of gold refined twice what he had before."

When the Great Being had thus delivered himself, he proceeded to pay his teacher's fee; and the king in like manner abode by his advice, giving alms and doing good, and ruled in righteousness. So did they both finally pass away according to their deeds.

[228] When the Master had ended this discourse, he said: "So, Brethren, it is not now only that the Tathāgata is fertile in resource, but he was always the same." Then he identified the Birth: "At that time Ānanda was the king, Sāriputta the teacher, and I was the young man."


140:1 Buddha's half-brother. For the allusion see No. 182, Saṃgāvācara Jātaka, and Hardy, Manual, p. 204; Warren, Buddhism in Translations, 269 ff.

140:2 Reading cullupaṭṭhākassa.

140:3 Of attha-, dhamma-, nirutti-, paṭibhāna-. For explanation of these obscure terms the reader is referred to Childers, p. 366; and Warren, Buddhism in Translations, Index s. v. "Analytical Sciences."

140:4 "Seven nikkha's." Nikkho is a variable weight, equal to 250 phalas, which we may call grains.

141:1 These two couplets occur above in No. 476 (p. 135).

The Jataka, Vol. IV: No. 479.: Kāliṅga-Bodhi-Jātaka.

The Jataka, Vol. IV, tr. by W.H.D. Rouse, [1901], at

No. 479.


"King Kāliṅga," etc.—This story the Master told while dwelling at Jetavana about worship of the bo-tree performed by Elder Ānanda.

When the Tathāgata had set forth on pilgrimage, for the purpose of gathering in those who were ripe for conversion, the citizens of Sāvatthi proceeded to Jetavana, their hands full of garlands and fragrant wreaths, and finding no other place to show their reverence, laid them by the gateway of the perfumed chamber and went off. This caused great rejoicings. But Anāthapiṇḍika got to hear of it; and on the return of the Tathāgata visited Elder Ānanda and said to him,—"This monastery, Sir, is left unprovided while the Tathāgata goes on pilgrimage, and there is no place for the people to do reverence by offering fragrant wreaths and garlands. Will you be so kind, Sir, as to tell the Tathāgata of this matter, and learn from him whether or no it is possible to find a place for this purpose." The other, nothing loth, did so, asking, "How many shrines are there?"—"Three, Ānanda."—"Which are they?"—"Shrines for a relic of the body, a relic of use or wear, a relic of memorial 2"—"Can a shrine be made, Sir, during your life?"—"No, Ānanda, not a body-shrine; that kind is made when a Buddha enters Nirvāna. A shrine of memorial is improper because the connection depends on the imagination only. But the great bo-tree used by the Buddhas is fit for a shrine, be they alive or be they dead."—"Sir, while you are away on pilgrimage the great monastery of Jetavana

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is unprotected, and the people have no place where they can show their reverence. Shall I plant a seed of the great bo-tree before the gateway of Jetavana?"—"By all means so do, Ānanda, and that shall be as it were an abiding place for me."

The Elder told this to Anāthapiṇḍika, and Visākhā, and the king. Then at the gateway of Jetavana he cleared out a pit for the bo to stand in, and said to the chief Elder, Moggallāna, "I want to plant a bo-tree in front of Jetavana. Will you get me a fruit of the great bo-tree?" The Elder, well willing, passed through the air to the platform under the bo-tree. 2 He placed in his robe a fruit that was dropping 1 from its stalk but had not reached the ground, brought it back, and delivered it to Ānanda. The Elder informed the King of Kosala that he was to plant the bo-tree that day. So in the evening time came the King with a great concourse, bringing all things necessary; then came also Anāthapiṇḍika and Visākhā and a crowd of the faithful besides.

In the place where the bo-tree was to be planted the Elder had placed a golden jar, and in the bottom of it was a hole; all was filled with earth moistened with fragrant water. He said, "O king, plant this seed of the bo-tree," giving it to the king. But the king, thinking that his kingdom was not to be in his hands for ever, and that Anāthapiṇḍika ought to plant it, passed the seed to Anāthapiṇḍika, the great merchant. Then Anāthapiṇḍika stirred up the fragrant soil and dropt it in. The instant it dropt from his hand, before the very eyes of all, up sprang as broad as a plough-head a bo-sapling, fifty cubits tall; on the four sides and upwards shot forth five great branches of fifty cubits in length, like the trunk. So stood the tree, a very lord of the forest already; a mighty miracle! The king poured round the tree jars of gold and of silver, in number eight hundred, filled with scented water, beauteous with a great quantity of blue water-lilies. Ay, and caused to be set there a long line of vessels all full, and a seat he had made of the seven precious things, golden dust he had sprinkled about it, a wall was built round the precincts, he erected a gate chamber of the seven precious things. Great was the honour paid to it.

The Elder approaching the Tathāgata, said to him, "Sir, for the people's good, accomplish under the bo-tree which I have planted that height of Attainment to which you attained under the great bo-tree." "What is this you say, Ānanda?" replied he. "There is no other place can support me, if I sit there and attain to that which I attained in the enclosure of the great bo-tree." "Sir," said Ānanda, "I pray you for the good of the people, to use this tree for the rapture of Attainment, in so far as this spot of ground can support the weight." The Master used it during one night for the rapture of Attainment.

The Elder informed the king, and all the rest, and called it by the name of the Bo Festival. And this tree, having been planted by Ānanda, was known by the name of Ānanda's Bo-Tree.

At that time they began to talk of it in the Hall of Truth. "Brother, while yet the Tathāgata lived, the venerable Ānanda caused a bo-tree to be planted, (230) and great reverence to be paid to it. Oh, how great is the Elder's power!" The Master entering asked what they were talking of. They told him. He said, "This is not the first time, Brethren, that Ānanda led captive mankind in the four great continents, with all the surrounding throngs, and caused a vast quantity of scented wreaths to be brought, and made a bo-festival in the precinct of the great bo-tree." So saying, he told a story of the past.

Once upon a time, in the kingdom of Kāliṅga, and in the city of Dantapura, reigned a king named Kāliṅga. He had two sons, named

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[paragraph continues] Mahā-Kāliṅga and Culla-Kāliṅga, Kāliṅga the Greater and the Less. Now fortune-tellers had foretold that the eldest son would reign after his father's death; but that the youngest would live as an ascetic, and live by alms, yet his son would be an universal monarch.

Time passed by, and on his father's death the eldest son became king, the youngest viceroy. The youngest, ever thinking that a son born of him was to be an universal monarch, grew arrogant on that account. This the king could not brook, so sent a messenger to arrest Kāliṅga the Less. The man came and said, "Prince, the king wishes to have you arrested, so save your life." The prince showed the courtier charged with this mission his own signet ring, a fine rug, and his sword: these three. Then he said, "By these tokens 1 you shall know my son, and make him king." With these words, he sped away into the forest. There he built him a hut in a pleasant place, and lived as an ascetic upon the bank of a river.

Now in the kingdom of Madda, and in the city of Sāgala, a daughter was born to the King of Madda. Of the girl, as of the prince, fortunetellers foretold that she should live as an ascetic, but her son was to be an universal monarch. The Kings of India, hearing this rumour, came together with one accord, and surrounded the city. The king thought to himself, "Now, if I give my daughter to one, all the other kings will be enraged. I will try to save her." So with wife and daughter he fled disguised away into the forest; and after building him a hut some distance up the river, above the hut of Prince Kāliṅga, 1 2 3 he lived there as an ascetic, eating what he could pick up.

The parents, wishing to save their daughter, left her behind in the hut, and went out to gather wild fruits. While they were gone she gathered flowers of all kinds, and made them into a flower-wreath. Now on the bank of the Ganges there is a mango tree with beautiful flowers, which forms a kind of natural ladder. Upon this she climbed, and playing managed to drop the wreath of flowers into the water 2.

One day, as Prince Kāliṅga was coming out of the river after a bath, this flower-wreath caught in his hair.

He looked at it, and said, "Some woman made this, and no full-grown woman but a tender young girl. I must make search for her." So deeply in love he journeyed up the Ganges, until he heard her singing in a sweet voice, as she sat in the mango tree. He approached the foot of the tree,

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and seeing her, said, "What are you, fair lady?" "I am human, Sir," she replied. "Come down, then," quoth he. "Sir, I cannot; I am of the warrior caste 1." "So am I also, lady: come down!" "No, no, Sir, that I cannot do. Saying will not make a warrior; if you are so, tell me the secrets of that mystery." Then they repeated to each other these guild secrets. And the princess came down, and they had connexion one with the other.

When her parents returned she told them about this son of the King of Kālinga, and how he came into the forest, in all detail. They consented to give her to him. While they lived together in happy union, the princess conceived, and after ten months brought forth a son with the signs of good luck and virtue; and they named him Kāliṅga. He grew up, and learnt all arts and accomplishments from his father and grandfather.

At length his father knew from conjunctions of the stars that his brother was dead. So he called his son, and said, "My son, you must not spend your life in the forest. Your father's brother, Kāliṅga the Greater, is dead; you must go to Dantapura, and receive your hereditary kingdom." 2 3 Then he gave him the things he had brought away with him, signet, rug, and sword, saying, "My son, in the city of Dantapura, in such a street, lives a courtier who is my very good servant. Descend into his house and enter his bedchamber, and show him these three things and tell him you are my son. He will place you upon the throne."

The lad bade farewell to his parents and grandparents; and by power of his own virtue he passed through the air, and descending into the house of that courtier entered his bedchamber. "Who are you?" asked the other. "The son of Kāliṅga the Less," said he, disclosing the three tokens. The courtier told it to the palace, and all those of the court decorated the city and spread the umbrella of royalty over his head. Then the chaplain, who was named Kāliṅga-bhāradvāja, taught him the ten ceremonies which an universal monarch has to perform, and he fulfilled those duties. Then on the fifteenth day, the fast-day, came to him from Cakkadaha the precious Wheel of Empire, from the Uposatha stock the precious Elephant, from the royal Valāha breed the precious Horse, from Vepulla the precious Jewel; and the precious wife, retinue, and prince made their appearance 2. Then he achieved sovereignty in the whole terrestrial sphere.

One day, surrounded by a company which covered six-and-thirty leagues, and mounted upon an elephant all white, tall as a peak of Mount

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[paragraph continues] Kelāsa, in great pomp and splendour he went to visit his parents. But beyond the circuit 1 around the great bo-tree, the throne of victory of all the Buddhas, which has become the very navel of the earth, beyond this the elephant was unable to pass: again and again the king urged him on, but pass he could not.

Explaining this, the Master recited the first stanza:

"King Kāliṅga, lord supreme,
    Ruled the earth by law and right,
To the bo-tree once he came
    On an elephant of might."

Hereupon the king's chaplain, who was travelling with the king, thought to himself, "In the air is no hindrance; why cannot the king make his elephant go on? 2 3 I will go, and see." Then descending from the air, he beheld the throne of victory of all Buddhas, the navel of the earth, that circuit around the great bo-tree. At that time, it is said, for the space of a royal karísa 2 was never a blade of grass, not so big as a hare's whisker; it seemed as it were a smooth-spread sand bright like a silver plate; but on all sides were grass, creepers, mighty trees like the lords of the forest, as though standing in reverent wise all about with their faces turned towards the throne of the bo-tree. When the brahmin beheld this spot of earth, "This," thought he, "is the place where all the Buddhas have crushed all the desires of the flesh; and beyond this none can pass, no not if he were Sakka himself." Then approaching the king, he told him the quality of the bo-tree circuit, and bade him descend.

By way of explaining this the Master recited these stanzas following:

"This Kāliṅga-bhāradvāja told his king, the ascetic's son,
As he rolled the wheel of empire, guiding him, obeisance done:

"This the place the poets sing of; here, O mighty king, alight!
Here attained to perfect wisdom perfect Buddhas, shining bright.

"In the world, tradition has it, this one spot is hallowed ground,
Where in attitude of reverence herbs and creepers stand around 3.

"Come, descend and do obeisance; since as far as the ocean bound
In the fertile earth all-fostering this one spot is hallowed ground.

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"All the elephants thou ownest thorobred by dam and sire,
Hither drive them, they will surely come thus far, but come no nigher.

"He is thorobred you ride on; drive the creature as you will,
He can go not one step further: here the elephant stands still."

"Spake the soothsayer, heard Kāliṅga; then the King to him, quoth he,
Driving deep the goad into him—"Be this truth, we soon shall see."

"Pierced, the creature trumpets loudly, shrill as any heron cries,
Moved, then fell upon his haunches neath the weight, and could not rise."

[234] Pierced and pierced again by the king, this elephant could not endure the pain, and so died; but the king knew not he was dead, and sat there still on his back. Then Kāliṅgabhāradvāja said, "O great king! your elephant is dead; pass on to another."

To explain this matter, the Master recited the tenth stanza:

"When Kāliṅga-bhāradvāja saw the elephant was dead,
He in fear and trepidation then to king Kāliṅga said:
"Seek another, mighty monarch: this thy elephant is dead."

[235] By the virtue and magical power of the king, another beast of the Uposatha breed appeared and offered his back. The king sat on his back. At that moment the dead elephant fell upon the earth.

To explain this matter, the Master repeated another stanza:

"This heard, Kāliṅga in dismay
Mounted another, and straightway
Upon the earth the corpse sank down,
And the soothsayer's word for very truth was shown."

Thereupon the king came down from the air, and beholding the precinct of the bo-tree, and the miracle that was done, he praised Bhāradvāja, saying—

"To Kāliṅga-bhāradvāja king Kāliṅga thus did say:
"All thou know’st and understandest, and thou seest all alway."

Now the brahmin would not accept this praise; but standing in his own humble place, he extolled the Buddhas, and praised them.

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To explain this, the Master repeated these stanzas:

"But the brahmin straight denied it, and thus spake unto the king:
"I know sooth of marks and tokens: but the Buddhas, every thing.

"Though all-knowing and all-seeing, yet in marks they have no skill:
They know all, but know by insight: I a man of books am still."

The king, hearing the virtues of the Buddhas, was delighted in heart; and he caused all the dwellers in the world to bring fragrant wreaths in plenty, and for seven days he made them do worship at the circuit of the Great Bo-tree.

[236] By way of explanation, the Master recited a couple of stanzas:

"Thus worshipt he the great bo-tree 1 with much melodious sound
Of music, and with fragrant wreaths: a wall he set around,

"and after that the king went on his way—

"Brought flowers in sixty thousand carts an offering to be;
Thus king Kāliṅga worshipped the Circuit of the Tree."

Having in this manner done worship to the Great Bo-tree, he visited his parents, and took them back with him again to Dantapura; where he gave alms and did good deeds, until he was born again in the Heaven of the Thirty-Three.

The Master, having finished this discourse, said: "It is not now the first time, Brethren, that Ānanda did worship the bo-tree, but aforetime also;" and then he identified the Birth:—"At that time Ānanda was Kāliṅga, and I myself was Kāliṅga-bhāradvāja."


142:1 See Hardy, Eastern Monachism, pp. 213-4.

142:2 See Hardy, Eastern Monachism, 216 f. The last class is said to be images of the Buddha.

143:1 Reading parigalantam.

144:1 The tokens are a familiar feature of folk-tales. We may compare the story of Theseus, with his father's sword and sandals: Pausanias, i. 27. 8.

144:2 Another familiar episode in folk tales, but of Protean form. It is commonly a hair of the lady's head that falls. See Clouston, Popular Tales and Fictions, i. 241 (India), 251, (Egypt); North Indian Notes and Queries, ii. 704; Lal Behari Day, Folk Tales of Bengal, No, 4.

145:1 Khattiyā.

145:2 For an account of the Cakkavatti, and the miracles at his appearing, consult Hardy's Manual, 126 ff. See also Rhys Davids on the Questions of Milinda, vol. i. p. 57 (he renders the last two treasurer and adviser), and Buddhist Suttas, p. 257.

146:1 The word is used both of the seat under the tree and of the raised terrace built around it.

146:2 Or should it be a karisa round the king?

146:3 The scholiast says of this maṇḍo: "As the age continues, at first it continues the same, then with the waning of the age wanes again and grows less."

The Jataka, Vol. IV: No. 480.: Akitta-Jātaka.

The Jataka, Vol. IV, tr. by W.H.D. Rouse, [1901], at

No. 480.


"Sakka, the lord of beings," etc.—This story the Master told while dwelling in Jetavana, about a generous donor who lived in Sāvatthi. This man, so it is said, invited the Master, and for seven days gave many gifts to the company which followed with him; on the last day he presented the company of the Saints with all things necessary for them. Then said the

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[paragraph continues] Master, rendering thanks to him, "Lay Brother, great is thy generosity: a thing most difficult thou hast done. This custom of giving is the custom of wise men of old. Gifts must be given, be ye in the world, be ye in retirement from the world; the wise men of old, even when they had left the world and dwelt in the woodland, when they had to eat but Kāra 1 leaves sprinkled with water, without salt or spice [237], yet gave to all beggars that passed by to serve their need, and themselves lived on their own joy and blessedness." The man answered, "Sir, this giving of all necessary things to the company is clear enough, but what you say is not clear. Will you not explain it to us?" Then the Master at his request told a story of the past.

Once upon a time, when Brahmadatta was king in Benares, the Bodhisatta was born in the family of a Brahmin magnate, whose fortune amounted to eighty crores. They named him Akitti. When the time came he was able to walk, a sister was born, and they gave her the name Yasavatī. The Great Being proceeded at the age of sixteen years to Benares, where he completed his education and then returned. After that his mother and father died. He had performed all that behoves for the spirits of the dead, and was inspecting his treasure 2: "So and so," ran the catalogue, "laid up so much and died, such another so much." Hearing this he was disturbed in his mind, and thought, "This treasure is here for all to see, but they that gathered it are no more seen: they have all gone and left the treasure behind them, but when I pass away I will take it with me." So sending for his sister, he said, "Take charge of this treasure." "What is your own intent?" she asked. He replied, "To become an ascetic." "Dear one," she answered, "I will not take on my head that which you have spewed out of your mouth; I will have none of it, but I also will become an ascetic." Then having asked leave of the king, he caused the drum to beat all about the city, and proclamation to be made: "Oyez! Let all those who wish for money repair to the wise man's house!" For seven days he distributed great store of alms, and yet the treasure did not come to an end. Then he thought to himself, "The elements of my being waste away, and what do I want with this treasure-game? Let those who desire it, take." Then he opened wide the doors of the house, saying, "’Tis a gift; let the people take it." So leaving the house with all its gold and precious metal, with his kinsfolk weeping around, he and his sister departed. And the gate of Benares by which they went was called Akitti's Gate, and the landing-stage by which they went down to the river, this also was called the Quay of Akitti.

Three leagues he traversed, and there in a pleasant spot made a hut of leaves and branches, and with his sister lived in it as an ascetic [238].

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[paragraph continues] After the time of his retiring from the world, many others also did the same, villagers, townsfolk, citizens of the royal city; great was the company of them, great the gifts and the honour they received; it was like to the arising of a Buddha. Then the Great Being thought within himself, "Here is great honour and store of alms, here is a great company, yea passing great, but I ought to dwell alone." So at a time when no man expected, without even warning his sister, alone he departed, and by and by came to the kingdom Damiḷa 1, where dwelling in a park over against Kāvīrapaṭṭana, he cultivated a mystic ecstasy and the supernatural Faculties. There also he received much honour and great store of gifts. This liked him not, and he forsook it, and passing through the air descended at the isle of Kāra, which is over against the island of Nāga 2. At that time, Kāradīpa was named Ahidīpa, the Isle of Snakes. There he built him an hermitage beside a great kāra-tree, and dwelt in it. But that he dwelt there no man knew.

Now his sister went searching for her brother, and in due course came to the kingdom of Damiḷa, saw him not, yet dwelt in the very place where he dwelt, but could not induce the mystic ecstasy. The Great Being was so contented that he went no whither, but at the time of fruit fed upon the fruit of that tree, and at time of putting forth of leaves fed on its leaves sprinkled with water. By the fire of his virtue Sakka's marble throne became hot. "Who would bring me down from my place?" thought Sakka, and considering, he beheld the wise man. "Why is it," thought he, "yon ascetic guards his virtue? Is it that he aspires to Sakka-hood, or for some other cause? I will test him. The man lives in misery, eats kāra-leaves sprinkled with water: if he desires to become Sakka, he will give me his own sodden leaves; but if not, then he will not give them." Then in the guise of a brahmin he went to the Bodhisatta.

The Bodhisatta sat at the door of his leaf-hut, having sodden the leaves and laid them down: "When they are cool," thought he, "I will eat them." At that moment Sakka stood before him, craving an alms. When the Great Being beheld him, he was glad at heart; "A blessing for me," he thought, "I see a beggar; this day I shall attain the desire of my heart [239], and I shall give an alms." When the food was ready, he took it in his bowl at once, and advancing towards Sakka, said to him, "This is my gift: be it the means of my gaining omniscience!" Then without leaving any for himself, he laid the food in the other's bowl. The brahmin took it, and moving a short way off disappeared. But the Great Being, having given his gift, cooked no more again, but sat still in joy and blessedness. Next day he cooked again, and sat as before at

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the entering in of the hut. Again Sakka came in the semblance of a brahmin, and again the Great Being gave him the meal, and continued in joy and blessedness. On the third day again he gave as before, saying, "See what a blessing for me! A few kāra-leaves have begotten great merit for me." Thus in heartfelt joy, weak as he was for want of food for three days, he came out of his hut at noontide and sat in the door, reflecting upon the gift which he had given. And Sakka thought: "This brahmin fasting for three days, weak as he is, yet gives to me, and takes joy in his giving. There is no other meaning in his thoughts; I do not understand what it is he desires and why he gives these gifts, so I must ask him, and find out his meaning, and learn the cause of his giving." Accordingly he waited till past midday, and in great glory and magnificence came to the Great Being blazing like the young sun; and standing before him, put to him the question: "Ho, ascetic! why do you practise the ascetic life in this forest, surrounded by the salt sea, with hot winds beating upon you?"

To make clear this matter, the Master repeated the first stanza:

"Sakka, the lord of beings, saw Akitti honouréd:
"Why, O great Brahmin, do you rest here in the heat?" he said."

When the Great Being heard this, and perceived that it was Sakka, he answered and said to him, "Those Attainments I do not crave; but craving for omniscience I live the life of a recluse." To make this clear, he recited the second stanza:


"Re-birth, the body's breaking up, death, error—all is pain:
Therefore, O Sakka Vāsava! I here in peace remain."

Hearing these words, Sakka was pleased in his heart, and thought "He is dissatisfied with all kinds of being, and for Nirvana's sake dwells in the forest. I will offer him a boon." Then he invited him to choose a boon in the words of the third stanza:

"Fair spoken, Kassapa, well put, most excellently said:
Choose now a boon—as bids your heart, so let the choice be made 1."

The Great Being repeated the fourth stanza, choosing his boon:

"Sakka, the lord of beings all, has offered me a boon, 2
Son, wife or treasure, grain in store, content not tho’ possessed:
I pray no lust for such as these may harbour in my breast."

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Then Sakka, much pleased, offered yet other boons, and the Great Being accepted them, each in turn repeating a stanza as follows:

"Fair spoken, Kassapa, well put, most excellently said:
Choose now a boon—as bids your heart, so let the choice be made."

"Sakka, the lord of beings all, has offered me a boon.
Lands, goods, and gold, slaves, horse, and kine, grow old and pass away:
May I be not like them, nor be this fault in me, I pray."

"Fair spoken, "etc.

"Sakka, the lord of all the world, has offered me a boon.
May I not see or hear a fool, nor no such dwell with me,
Nor hold no converse with a fool, nor like his company."

[241]"What has a fool e’er done to you, O Kassapa, declare!
Come tell me why fools' company is more than you can bear?"

"The fool does wickedly, binds loads on him that none should bear,
Ill-doing is his good, and he is wroth when spoken fair,
Knows not right conduct; this is why I would have no fool there."

"Fair spoken, Kassapa," etc.

"Sakka, the lord of beings all, has offered me a boon.
Be it mine the wise to see and hear, and may he dwell with me,
May I hold converse with the wise, and love his company."

"What has the wise man done to you, O Kassapa, declare!
Why do you wish that where you are, the wise man should be there?

The wise does well, no burden binds on him that none should bear,
Well-doing is his good, nor is he wroth when spoken fair,
Knows well right conduct; this is why ’tis well he should be there."

"Fair spoken, Kassapa," etc.

Sakka, the lord of beings all, has offered me a boon.
May I be free from lusts, and when the sun begins to shine
May holy mendicants appear, and grant me food divine;

"May this not dwindle as I give, nor I repent the deed,
But be my heart in giving glad: this choose I for my meed."

"Fair spoken, Kassapa, well put, most excellently said:
Choose now a boon—as bids your heart, so let the choice be made."

"Sakka, the lord of beings all, to me a boon he gave:—
O Sakka, visit me no more: this boon is all I crave."

"But many men and women too of those who live aright
Desire to see me: can there be a danger in the sight?"

"Such is thy aspect all divine, such glory and delight,
This seen, I may forget my vows: this danger has the sight."

[242]"Well, Sir," said Sakka, "I will never visit you more" ; and so saluting him, and craving his pardon, Sakka departed. The Great Being then dwelt all his life long, cultivating the Excellences, and was born again in the world of Brahma.

The Master, having completed this discourse, identified the Birth: "At that time Anuruddha was Sakka, and I myself was the wise Akitti."


148:1 Reading tain bodhim.

149:1 Canthium parviflorum.

149:2 Cf. vol. iii. p. 39 (no. 313).

150:1 The Malabar coast or Northern Ceylon.

150:2 Near Ceylon, or part of it.

151:1 This couplet has already been given: see p. 7, above.

151:2 See p: 7.

The Jataka, Vol. IV: No. 481.: Takkāriya-Jātaka

The Jataka, Vol. IV, tr. by W.H.D. Rouse, [1901], at

p. 153

No. 481.


"I spoke," etc. This story the Master told while dwelling in Jetavana, about Kokālika.

During one rainy season the two Chief Disciples  2, desiring to leave the multitude and to dwell apart, took leave of the Master, and went into the kingdom where Kokālika was. They repaired to the house of Kokālika, and thus said to him: "Brother Kokālika [243], since for us it is delightful to dwell with you, and for you to dwell with us, we would abide here three months." "How," quoth the other, "will it be delightful for you to dwell with me?" They answered, "If you tell not a soul that the two Chief Disciples are dwelling here, we shall be happy, and that will be our delight in dwelling with you." "And how is it delightful for me to dwell with you?" "We will declare the Law to you three months in your house, and we will discourse to you, and that will be your delight in dwelling with us." "Dwell here, Brethren," quoth he, "so long as you will:" and he allotted a pleasant residence to them. There they dwelt in the fruition of the Attainments, and no man knew of their dwelling in that place.

When they had thus past the rains they said to him, "Brother, now we have dwelt with you, and we will go to visit the Master," and asked his leave to go. He agreed, and went with them on the rounds for alms in a village over against the place where they were. After their meal the Elders departed from the village. Kokālika leaving them, turned back and said to the people, "Lay Brethren, you are like brute animals. Here the two Chief Disciples have been dwelling for three months in the monastery opposite, and you knew nothing of it: now they are gone." "Why did you not tell us, Sir?" the people asked. Then they took ghee and oil and simples, raiment and clothes, and approached the Elders, saluting them and saying, "Pardon us, Sirs we knew not you were the Chief Disciples, we have learnt it but to-day by the words of the reverend Brother Kokālika. Pray have compassion on us, and receive these simples and clothes." Kokālika went after the Elders with them, for he thought, "Frugal the Elders are, and content with little; they will not accept these things, and then they will be given to me." But the Elders, because the gift was offered at the instigation of a Brother, neither accepted the things themselves nor had them given to Kokālika. The lay folk then said, "Sirs, if you will not accept these, come hither once again to bless us." The Elders promised, and proceeded to the Master's presence.

Now Kokālika was angry, because the Elders neither accepted those things themselves, nor had them given to him. The Elders, however, having remained a short while with the Master, chose out each five hundred Brethren as their following, and with these thousand Brethren went on pilgrimage seeking alms, as far as Kokālika's country. The lay folk came out to meet them, and led them to the same monastery, and showed them great honour day by day.

[244] Great was the store given them of clothes and of simples. Those Brethren who went out with the Elders dividing the garments gave of them to all the Brethren which had come, but to Kokālika gave none, neither did the Elders give him any. Kokālika getting no clothes began to abuse and revile the

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[paragraph continues] Elders: "Sāriputta and Moggallāna are full of sinful desire; they would not accept before what was offered them, but these things they do accept. There is no satisfying them, they have no regard for another." But the Elders, perceiving that the man was harbouring evil on their account, set out with their followers to depart; nor would they return, not though the people begged them to stay yet a few days longer. Then a young Brother said: "Where shall the Elders stay, laymen? Your own particular Elder does not wish them to stay here." Then the people went to Kokālika, and said, "Sir, we are told you do not wish the Elders to stay here. Go to! Either appease them and bring them back, or away with you and live elsewhere!" In fear of the people this man went and made his request to the Elders. "Go back, Brother," answered the Elders, "we will not return." So he being unable to prevail upon them returned to the monastery. Then the lay brethren asked him whether the Elders had returned. "I could not persuade them to return," said he. "Why not, Brother?" they asked. And then they began to think it must be, no good Brethren would dwell there because the man lived in sin; they must get rid of him. "Sir," they said, "do not stay here; we have nothing here for you."

Thus dishonoured by them, he took bowl and robe and went to Jetavana. After saluting the Master, he said, "Sir, Sāriputta and Moggallāna are full of sinful desire, they are in the power of sinful desires!" The Master replied, "Say not so, Kokālika; let your heart, Kokālika, be in charity with Sāriputta and Moggallāna; learn that they are good Brethren." Kokālika said, "You believe in your two Chief Disciples, Sir; I have seen it with my own eyes; they have sinful desires, they have secrets within them, they are wicked men." So he said thrice (though the Master would have stayed him), then rose from his seat, and departed. Even as he went on his way there arose over all his body boils of the size of a mustard seed, grew and grew to the size of a ripe seed of the vilva tree 1, burst, ran blood all over him. Groaning he fell by the gate of Jetavana, maddened with pain. A great cry arose, and reached even to Brahma's world—"Kokālika has reviled the two Chief Disciples!" Then his spiritual teacher, the Brahmā angel, Tudu by name, 2 4 5 learning the fact, came with the intent of appeasing the Elders, and said while poised in the air, "Kokālika, a cruel thing this you have done; make your peace with the Chief Disciples." "Who are you, brother?" the man asked. "Tudu Brahmā, is my name," said he. "Have you not been declared by the Blessed One," said the man, "one of those who return not 2? That word means that such come not back to this earth. You will become a goblin upon a dunghill!" Thus he upbraided the great Brahma angel. And as he could not persuade the man to do as he advised, he replied to him, "May you be tormented according to your own word." Then he returned to his abode of bliss. And Kokālika dying was born again in the Lotus Hell 3. That he had been born there the great and mighty Brahmā Lord 4 told to the Tathāgata, and the Master told it to the Brethren. In the Hall of Truth the Brethren talked of the man's wickedness: "Brother, they say Kokālika reviled Sāriputta and Moggallāna, and by the words of his own mouth came to the Lotus Hell." The Master came in, and said he, "What speak ye of, Brethren, as ye sit here?" They told him. Then he said, "This is not the first time, Brethren, that Kokālika was destroyed by his own word, and out of his own mouth was condemned to misery; it was the same before." And he told them a story of the past.

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Once upon a time, when Brahmadatta was king of Benares, his chaplain was tawny-brown 1 and had lost all his teeth. His wife committed sin with another brahmin. This man was just like the other 2. The chaplain tried times and again to restrain his wife, but could not. Then he thought, "This my enemy I cannot kill with my own hands, but I must devise some plan to kill him."

So he came before the king, and said: "O king, your city is the chiefest city of all India, and you are the chiefest king: but chief king though you are, your southern gate is unlucky, and ill put together." "Well now, my teacher, what is to be done?" "You must bring good luck into it and set it right." "What is to be done?" "We must pull down the old door, get new and lucky timbers, do sacrifice to the beings that guard the city, and set up the new on a lucky conjunction of the stars." "So do, then," said the king.

At that time, the Bodhisatta was a young man named Takkāriya, 2 4 6 who was studying under this man.

Now the chaplain caused the old gate to be pulled down, and the new was made ready; which done, he went and said to the king, "The gate is ready, my lord: to-morrow is an auspicious conjunction; before the morrow is over, we must do sacrifice and set up the new gate." "Well, my teacher, and what is necessary for the rite?" "My lord, a great gate is possessed and guarded by great spirits. A brahmin, tawny-brown and toothless, of pure blood on both sides, must be killed; his flesh and blood must be offered in worship, and his body laid beneath, and the gate raised upon it. This will bring luck to you and your city 3." "Very well, my teacher, have such a brahmin slain, and set up the gate upon him."

The chaplain was delighted. "To-morrow," said he, "I shall see the back of my enemy!" Full of energy he returned to his home, but could not keep a still tongue in his head, and said quickly to his wife," Ah, you foul hag, whom will you have now to take your pleasure with? Tomorrow I shall kill your leman and make sacrifice of him!" "Why will you kill an innocent man?" "The king has commanded me to slay and sacrifice a tawny-brown brahmin, and to set up the city gate upon him.

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[paragraph continues] Your leman is tawny-brown, and I mean to slay him for the sacrifice. "She sent her paramour a message, saying, "They say the king wishes to slay a tawny-brown brahmin in sacrifice; if you would save your life, flee away in time, and with you all they who are like you." So the man did: the news spread abroad in the city, and all those in the whole city who were tawny-brown fled away.

The chaplain, nothing aware of his enemy's flight, went early next morning to the king, and said, "My lord, in such a place is a tawny-brown brahmin to be found; have him taken." The king sent some men for him, but they saw none, and returning informed the king that he was fled away. "Search elsewhere," said the king. 2 4 All over the city they searched, but found none. "Search quickly!" said the king. "My lord," they replied, "except your chaplain there is no such other." "A chaplain," quoth he, "cannot be killed." "What do you say, my lord? According to the chaplain, if the gate is not set up to-day, the city will be in danger. When the chaplain explained the matter, he said that if we let this day go by, the auspicious moment will not come again until the end of a year. The city without a gate for a year, what a chance for our enemies! Let us kill some one, and sacrifice by the aid of some other wise brahmin, and set up the gate." "But is there another wise brahmin like my teacher?" "There is, my lord, his pupil, a young man named Takkāriya; make him your chaplain and do the lucky ceremony." The king sent for him, and did honour to him, and made him chaplain, and commanded to do as had been said. The young man went to the gate with a great crowd following. In the king's name they bound and brought the chaplain. The Great Being caused a pit to be dug in the place where the gate was to be set up, and a tent to be placed over it, and with his teacher entered into the tent. The teacher beholding the pit, and seeing no escape, said to. the Great Being, "My aim had succeeded. Fool that I was, I could not keep a still tongue, but hastily told that wicked woman. I have slain myself with my own weapon." Then he recited the first stanza:

"I spoke in folly, as a frog might call
Upon a snake i’ the forest: so I fall
Into this pit, Takkāriyā 1. How true,
Words spoken out of season one must rue!"

[248] Then the other addressing him, recited this stanza:

"The man who out of season speaks, will go
Like this to ruin, lamentation, woe:
Here you should blame yourself, now you must have
This delvèd pit, my teacher, for your grave."

To these words he added yet this: "O teacher, not thou only, but

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many another likewise, has come to misery because he set not a watch upon his words." So saying, he told him a story of the past to prove it.

Once upon a time, they say, there lived a courtesan in Benares named Kālī, and she had a brother named Tuṇḍila. In one day Kālī would earn a thousand pieces of money. Now Tuṇḍila was a debauchee, a drunkard, a gambler; she gave him money, and whatever he got he wasted. Do what she would to restrain him, restrain him she could not. One day he was beaten at hazard, and lost the very clothes he was clad in. Wrapping about him a rag of loin-cloth, he repaired to his sister's house. But command had been given by her to her serving-maids, 2 4 that if Tuṇḍila should come, they were to give him nothing, but to take him by the throat and cast him out. And so they did: he stood by the threshold, and made his moan. Now a certain rich merchant's son, who used constantly to give Kālī a thousand pieces of money, on that day happened to see him, and says he, "Why are you weeping, Tuṇḍila?" "Master," said he, "I have been beaten at the dice, and came to my sister; and the serving-maids took me by the throat and cast me out." "Well, stay here," quoth the other, "and I will speak to your sister." He entered the house, and said, "Your brother stands waiting, clad in a rag of loin-cloth. Why do you not give him something to wear?" "Indeed," she replied, "I will give nothing. If you are fond of him, give it yourself." Now in that house of ill fame the fashion was this: out of every thousand pieces of money received, five hundred were for the woman, five hundred were the price of clothes, perfumes and garlands; the men who visited that house received garments to clothe themselves in, and stayed the night there, then on the next day they put off the garments they had received, and put on those they had brought, and went their ways. On this occasion the merchant's son put on the garments provided for him, and gave his own clothes to Tuṇḍila. He put them on, and with loud shouts hastened to the tavern. But Kālī ordered her women that when the young man should depart next day, they should take away his clothes. Accordingly, when he came forth, they ran up from this side and that, like so many robbers, and took the clothes from him, and stript him naked, saying, "Now, young sir, be off!" Thus they got rid of him. Away he went naked: the people made sport of him, and he was ashamed, and lamented, saying, "It is my own doing, because I could not keep watch over my lips!" To make this clear, the Great Being recited the third stanza:

"Why ask of Tuṇḍila how he should fare
At Kālikā his sister's hands? now see!
My clothes are gone, naked am I and bare;
’Tis monstrous like what happened late to thee."

[250] Another person relates this story. By carelessness of the goat herds,

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two rains fell a-fighting on a pasture at Benares. As they were hard at it, a certain fork-tail thought to himself, "These two will crack their polls and perish; I must restrain them." So he tried to restrain them by calling out—"Uncle, don't fight!" Not a word he got from them: in the midst of the battle, mounting first on the back, then on the head, he besought them to stop, but could do nothing. At last he cried, "Fight, then, but kill me first!" and placed himself between the two heads. They went on butting away at each other. The bird was crushed as by a pounder, and came to destruction by his own act. To explain this other tale the Great Being repeated the fourth stanza:

"Between two fighting rams a fork-tail flew,
Though in the fray he had no part nor share.
The two rams' heads did crush him then and there.
He in his fate was monstrous like to you!"

Another. There was a tal-tree which the cowherds set great store by. The people of Benares seeing it sent a certain man up the tree to gather fruit. As he was throwing down the fruit, a black snake issuing forth from an anthill began to ascend the tree; they who stood below tried to drive him off by striking at him with sticks and other things, but could not. Then they called out to the other, "A snake is climbing the tree!" and he in terror uttered a loud cry. Those who stood below seized a stout cloth by the four corners, and bade him fall into the cloth. He let himself drop, and fell in the midst of the cloth between the four of them; swift as the wind he came, and the men could not hold him, 1 2 5 but jolled their four heads together and broke them, and so died. To explain this story the Great Being recited the fifth stanza:

"Four men, to save a fellow from his fate,
    Held the four corners of a cloth below.
They all fell dead, each with a broken pate.
    These men were monstrous like to you, I trow."

Others again tell this. Some goat-thieves who lived at Benares having stolen a she-goat one night, determined to make a meal in the forest: to prevent her bleating they muffled her snout and tied her up in a bamboo clump. Next day, on their way to kill her, they forgot the chopper. "Now we'll kill the goat, and cook her," said they; "bring the chopper here!" But nobody had one. "Without a chopper," said they, "we cannot eat the beast, even if we kill her: let her go! this is due to some merit of hers." So they let her go. Now it happened that a worker in bamboos, who had been there for a bundle of them, left a basket-maker's knife there hidden among the leaves, intending to use it when he came again. But the goat, thinking herself to be free, began playing about under the bamboo clump, and kicking with her hind legs made the knife drop. The thieves heard the sound of the falling knife, and on coming to

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find out what it was, saw it, to their great delight; then they killed the goat, and ate her flesh 1. Thus to explain how this she-goat was killed by her own act, the Great Being recited the sixth stanza:

"A she-goat, in a bamboo thicket bound,
Frisking about, herself a knife had found.
With that same knife they cut the creature's throat.
It strikes me you are monstrous like that goat."

[252] After recounting this, he explained, "But they who are moderate of speech, by watching their words have often been freed from the fate of death," and then told a story of fairies 2.

A hunter, we are told, who lived in Benares, being once in the region of Himalaya, by some means or other captured a brace of supernatural beings, a nymph and her husband; and them he took and presented to the king. The king had never seen such beings before. "Hunter," quoth he, "what kind of creatures are these?" Said the man, "My lord, these can sing with a honey-voice, they dance delightfully: no men are able to dance or sing as they can." The king bestowed a great reward on the hunter, and commanded the fairies to sing and dance. But they thought, "If we are not able to convey the full sense of our song, the song will be a failure, they will abuse and hurt us; and then again, those who speak much speak falsely:" so for fear of some falsehood or other they neither sang nor danced, for all the king begged them again and again. At last the king grew angry, and said, "Kill these creatures, and cook them, and serve them up to me." This command he delivered in the words of the seventh stanza:

"No gods are these nor heaven's musicianers 3,
Beasts brought by one who fain would fill his purse.
So for my supper let them cook me one,
And one for breakfast by the morrow's sun."

Then the fairy-dame thought to herself," Now the king is angry; without doubt he will kill us. Now it is time to speak."And immediately she recited a stanza:

"A hundred thousand ditties all sung wrong
All are not worth a tithe of one good song.
To sing ill is a crime; and this is why
(Not out of folly) fairy would not try."

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[253] The king, pleased with the fairy, at once recited a stanza:

"She that hath spoken, let her go, that she
The Himalaya hill again may see,
But let them take and kill the other one,
And for to-morrow's breakfast have him done."

But the other fairy thought, "If I hold my tongue, surely the king will kill me; now is the time to speak;" and then he recited another stanza:

"The kine depend upon the clouds 1, and men upon the kine,
And I, O king! depend on thee, on me this wife of mine.
Let one, before he seek the hills, the other's fate divine."

When he had said this, he repeated a couple of stanzas, to make it clear, that they had been silent not from unwillingness to obey the king's word, but because they saw that speaking would be a mistake.

"O monarch! other peoples, other ways:
    ’Tis very hard to keep you clear of blame.
2 4 5 The very thing which for the one wins praise,
    Another finds reproof for just the same.

"Some one there is who each man foolish finds 2;
    Each by imagination different still;
All different, many men and many minds,
    No universal law is one man's will."

Quoth the king, "He speaks the truth; ’tis a sapient fairy;" and much pleased he recited the last stanza:

"Silent they were, the fairy and his mate:
    And he who now did utter speech for fear,
Unhurt, free, happy, let him go his gait.
    This is the speech brings good, as oft we hear."

Then the king placed the two fairies in a golden cage, and sending for the huntsman, made him set them free in the same place where he had caught them.

[255] The Great Being added, "See, my teacher! In this manner the fairies kept watch on their words, and by speaking at the right time were set free for their well speaking; but you by your ill speaking have come to great misery." Then after showing him this parallel, he comforted him, saying, "Fear not, my teacher; I will save your life." "Is there indeed a way," asked the other, "how you can save me?" He replied, "It is not yet the proper conjunction of the planets." He let the day go by, and in

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the middle watch of the night brought thither a dead goat. "Go when you will, brahmin, and live," said he, then let him go and never a soul the wiser. And he did sacrifice with the flesh of the goat, and set up the gate upon it.

When the Master had ended this discourse, he said: "This is not the first time, Brethren, that Kokālika was destroyed by his own words, but it was the same before;" after which he identified the Birth: "At that time Kokālika was the tawny-brown man, and I myself was the wise Takkāriya."


153:1 See L. Feer in Journal Asiatique, ix. Ser., xi. 189 ff. Compare also Zeitschr. der deutsch. morg. Gesellschaft, xlvii. 86, on αἲξ μάχαιραν.

153:2 Sāriputta and Moggallāna.

154:1 Aegle Marmelos.

154:2 Anāgāmi, those of the Third Path, who return not to be reborn on earth.

154:3 Not in Hardy's list of the chief Hells (Manual, p. 26); but there were 136 of them. Burnouf gives it, Introd. p. 201.

154:4 Sahampati; the meaning of the first part is unknown; he is the chief of the Brahma Heaven, of which Tudu is an angel.

155:1 Piṅgalo is not a proper name; see p. 246. 6 (Pāli).

155:2 A full stop should be placed at va. As printed, this sentence is unintelligible.

155:3 Human sacrifice at the founding of a building, or the like, must have been common in ancient times, so persistent are the traditions about it. For India, see Crooke, Intr. to Pop. Rel. and F.-L. of N. India, p. 237 and Index. When the Hooghly Bridge was built in Calcutta, I remember how it was commonly said by the natives that the builders had immured many young children in the foundations. For Greece it is attested by modern folk-songs such as the Bridge of Arta (Passow, Carm. Pop. Gr. no. 512), and one which I lately wrote down in Cos from oral tradition (published in Folk-Lore for 1899). The sacrifice is meant to propitiate the spirits disturbed by the digging. See Robertson Smith, Religion of the Semites, p. 158.

156:1 The name here is feminine, as the scholiast notes without explanation.


Zenobius, Prov. Cent. I. 27. So Suidas.

159:2 kinnarā.

159:3 gandhabbaputtā.

160:1 Because their food (grass etc.) depends on rain.

160:2 Reading paracitte: "everybody is foolish in some other man's opinion." In line 2, there may be a pun on citto (various): "all the world becomes different through the power of thought."

The Jataka, Vol. IV: No. 482.: Ruru-Jātaka.

The Jataka, Vol. IV, tr. by W.H.D. Rouse, [1901], at

No. 482.


"I bring you tidings," etc. This story the Master told while dwelling in the Bamboo-grove, about Devadatta. One might say to him, "The Master is most useful to you, friend Devadatta. You received holy orders from the Tathāgata, from him you learnt the Three Baskets, you obtained gifts and honour." When such things were said, it is credibly reported he would reply, "No, friend; the Master has done me no good, not so much as a blade of grass is worth. Of myself I received holy orders, myself I learned the Three Baskets, by myself I gained gifts and honour." In the Hall of Truth the Brethren talked of all this: "Ungrateful is Devadatta, my friend, and forgets a kindness done." The Master came in, and would know what they talked of sitting there. They told him. Said he, "It is not now the first time, Brethren, that Devadatta is ungrateful, but ungrateful he was before; and in days long gone by his life was saved by me, yet he knew not the greatness of my merit." So saying, he told a story of the past.

Once upon a time, when Brahmadatta was king of Benares, a great merchant who possessed a fortune of eighty crores, had a son born to him; and he gave him the name of Mahā-dhanaka, or Moneyman. But never a thing he taught him; for said he, "My son will find study a weariness of the flesh." Beyond singing and dancing, eating and feasting, the lad knew nothing. When he came of age, his parents provided him with a wife meet for him, and afterwards died. After their death, the youth surrounded by profligates, drunkards, and dicers, 2 5 6 spent all his substance with all manner of waste and profusion. Then he borrowed money, and could not repay it, and was dunned by his creditors. At last he thought, "What is my life to me? In this one existence I am as it were already changed into another being; to die is better." Whereupon he said to his creditors, "Bring your bills, and come hither. I have a

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family treasure laid up and buried on the bank of the Ganges, and you shall have that." They went along with him. He made as though he were pointing out here and there the hiding place of his treasure (but all the while he intended to fall into the river and drown), and finally ran and threw himself into the Ganges. As the torrent bore him away, he cried aloud with a pitiful cry.

Now at that time the Great Being had been born as a Deer, and having abandoned the herd, was dwelling near a bend of the river all by himself, in a clump of sal trees mixt with fair-flowering mangoes: the skin of his body was of the colour of a gold plate well burnished, forefeet and hindfeet seemed as it were covered with lac, his tail like the tail of a wild ox, the horns of him were as spirals of silver, eyes had he like bright polished gems, when he turned his mouth in any direction it seemed like a ball of red cloth. About midnight he heard this sad outcry, and thought, "I hear the voice of a man. While I live let him not die! I will save his life for him." Arising from off his resting place in the bush, he went down to the river bank, and called out in a comfortable voice, "Ho man! have no fear, I will save you alive." Then he cleft the current, and swam to him, and placed him upon his back, and bore him to the bank and to his own dwelling-place; where for two or three days he fed him with wild fruits 1 After this he said to the man, "O man, I will now convey you out of this wood, and set you in the road to Benares, and you shall go in peace. But I pray you, be not led away by greed of gain to tell the king or some great man, that in such a place is a golden deer to be found." The man promised to observe his words; and the Great Being, having received his promise, took him upon his back and carried him to the road to Benares, and went his way.

On the day when he reached Benares, the Queen Consort, whose name was Khemā, saw at morning in a dream how a deer of golden colour preached the Law to her; 2 5 and she thought, "If there were no such creature as this, I should not have seen him in my dream. Surely there must be such a one; I will announce it to the king."

Then she went to the king, and said, "Great king! I am anxious to hear the discourse of a golden deer. If I may, I shall live, but if not there is no living for me." The king comforted her, saying, "If such a creature exists in the world of men, you shall have it." Then he sent for the brahmins, and put the question—"Are there such things as gold-coloured deer?" "Yes, there are, my lord." The king laid upon the back of an elephant richly caparisoned a purse of a thousand pieces of money enclosed within a casket of gold: whoso should bring word of a golden deer, the king was willing to give him the purse with a thousand pieces,

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the casket of gold, and that elephant withal or a better. He caused a stanza to be engraved upon a tablet of gold, and delivered this to one of his court, bidding him cry the stanza in his name among all the townsfolk. Then he recited that stanza which comes first in this Birth:

"Who brings me tidings of that deer, choicest of all the breed?
Fair women and a village choice who wins him for his meed?"

The courtier took the golden plate, and caused it to be proclaimed throughout all the city. Just then this young merchant's son was entering Benares; and on hearing the proclamation, he approached the courtier, and said, "I can bring the king news of such a deer; take me into his presence." The courtier dismounted from his elephant, and led him before the king, saying, "This man, my lord, says he can tell you tidings of the deer." Quoth the king, "Is this true, man?" He answered, "It is true, O great king! you shall give me that honour." And he recited the second stanza:

"I bring you tidings of that deer, choicest of all the breed:
Fair women and a village choice then give me for my meed."

The king was glad when he heard these words of the treacherous friend. "Come now," said he, "where is this deer to be found?" "In such a place, my lord," he replied, and declared the way they should go. With a great following he made the traitor guide him to the place, and then he said, 2 5 "Order the army to halt." When the army was brought to a halt, he went on, pointing with his hand, "There is the golden deer, in that place yonder:" and he repeated the third stanza:

"Within yon clump of flowering sal and mango, where the ground
Is all as red as cochineal, this deer is to be found."

When the king heard these words, he said to his courtiers, "Suffer not the deer to escape, but with all speed set a circle about the grove, the men with their weapons in hand." They did so, and made an outcry. The king with a certain number of others was standing apart, and this man also stood not far off. The Great Being heard the sound, and thought he, "It is the sound of a great host, therefore I must beware of them 1." He rose, and spying at all the company perceived the place where the king stood. "Where the king stands," thought he, "I shall be safe, and thither I must go;" and he ran towards the king. When the king saw him coming, he said, "A creature strong as an elephant would throw down everything in its path. I will put arrow to string and frighten the beast; if he is for running I will shoot him and make him weak, that I may take him." Then stringing his bow, he stood facing the Bodhisatta.

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To explain this matter, the Master repeated a couple of stanzas:

"Forward he went: the bow was bent, the arrow on the string 1;
When thus from far the deer called out, as he beheld the king:

"O lord of charioteers, great king, stand still! and do not wound:
Who brought the news to you, that here this deer was to be found?"

[259] The king was enchanted with his honey-voice; he let fall his bow, and stood still in reverence. And the Great Being came up to the king, and talked pleasantly with him, standing on one side. All the host also dropt their weapons, and came up and surrounded the king. At that moment the Great Being asked his question of the king with a sweet voice (it was like one tinkling a golden bell): "Who brought the news to you, that here this deer was to be found?" Just then the wicked man came closer, and stood within hearing. The king pointed him out, saying, "There is he that informed me," and recited the sixth stanza:

"That sinful man, my worthy friend, that yonder stands his ground,
He brought the news to me, that here the deer was to be found."

On hearing this, the Great Being rebuked his treacherous friend, and addressing the king recited the seventh stanza:

"Upon the earth are many men, of whom the proverb's true:
’Twere better save a drowning log than such a one as you 2."

When he heard this, the king repeated another stanza:

"Who is it you would blame in this, O deer?
    Is it some man, or is it beast or bird?
2 6 I am possessed with an unbounded fear
    At this your human speech which late I heard."

Hereupon the Great Being replied, "O great king, I blame no beast and I blame no bird, but a man:" to explain which he repeated the ninth stanza:

"I saved him once, when like to drown
    On the swift swelling tide that bore him down:
And now I am in danger through it.
    Go with the wicked, and be sure you'll rue it."

The king when he heard this was wroth with the man. "What?" quoth he, "not to recognise his merit after such a good service! I will shoot him and kill him!" He then repeated the tenth stanza:

"This four-winged flyer I'll let fly,
    And pierce him to the heart! So let him perish,
The evil-doer in his treachery,
    Who for such kindness done no thanks did cherish!"

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Then the Great Being thought, "I would not have him perish on my account," and uttered the eleventh stanza:


"Shame on the fool, O king, indeed!
    But no good men approve a killing;
Let the wretch go, and give his meed,
    All that you promised him fulfilling:
And I will serve you at your need."

The king was very glad to hear this, and lauding him, uttered the next stanza:

"Surely this deer is good indeed,
    To pay back ill for ill unwilling.
Let the wretch go! I give his meed,
    All that I promised him fulfilling.
And you go where you will—good speed!"

At this the Great Being said, "O mighty king, men say one thing with their lips, and do another;" to expound which matter he recited two stanzas:

"The cry of jackals and of birds is understood with ease;
Yea, but the word of men, O king, is harder far than these.

"A man may think, "This is my friend, my comrade, of my kin;"
But friendship goes, and often hate and enmity begin 1."

When the king heard these words, he answered, "O king of the deer! do not suppose that I am one of that kind; for I will not deny the boon I have promised you, not even if I lose my kingdom for it. 2 6 Trust me." And he gave him choice of a boon. The Great Being accepted this boon at his hands, and chose this: That all creatures, beginning with himself, should be free from danger. This boon the king granted, and then took him back to the city of Benares, and having adorned and decorated the city, and the Great Being also, caused him to discourse to the queen his wife. The Great Being discoursed to the queen, and afterwards to the king and all his court, in a human voice sweet as honey; he admonished the king to hold fast by the Ten Virtues of Kings, and he comforted the great multitude, and then returned to the woodland, where he dwelt among a herd of deer.

The king sent a drum beating about the city, with this proclamation: "I give protection to all creatures!" From that time onwards no one durst so much as raise hand against beast or bird.

Herds of deer devoured the crops of mankind, and no one was able to drive them away. A crowd assembled in the king's courtyard, and complained.

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To make this clear, the Master repeated the following stanza:

"The country-folk and townsfolk all straight to the king they went:
"The deer are eating up our crops: this let the king prevent!"

Hearing this, the king recited a couple of stanzas:

"Be it the people's wish or no, e’en if my kingdom cease,
I cannot wrong the deer, to whom I promised life and peace.

"The people may desert me all, my royal power may die,
The boon I gave that royal deer I never will deny."

The people listened to the king's words, and finding themselves unable to say anything, departed. This saying was spread abroad. The Great Being heard of it, and assembling all the deer, laid his bidding on them: "From this time forward you must not devour the crops of men." 2 3 6 He then sent a message to men, that each should set up a placard on his own lands. The men did so; and at that sign even to this day the deer do not devour the crops.

When the Master had ended this discourse, he said, "This is not the first time, Brethren, that Devadatta has been ungrateful;" and then he identified the Birth: "At that time, Devadatta was the merchant's son, Ānanda was the king, and I myself was the deer."


162:1 Read phalāphalāni.

163:1 Reading purisabhayena, or omitting me (with this it would be "I must beware of that man").

164:1 This line is almost identical with iii. 274. 12 (p. 174, line 12 of this translation).

164:2 These lines are found in vol. i. p. 326. 8 (i. 180 of this translation).

165:1 These lines have been used before: pages 135 and 141.

The Jataka, Vol. IV: No. 483.: Sarabha-Miga-Jātaka.

The Jataka, Vol. IV, tr. by W.H.D. Rouse, [1901], at

No. 483.


"Toil on, O man," etc.—This story the Master told while dwelling in Jetavana, to explain fully a question concisely put by himself to the Commander of the Faith.

At that time the Master put a question concisely to that Elder. This is the full story, put briefly, of the descent from the world of gods. When the Reverend Piṇḍola-Bhāradvāja had by his supernatural power gained the sandal-wood bowl in the presence of the great merchant of Rājagaha 2, the Master forbade the Brethren to use their miraculous powers.

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Then the schismatics thought, "The ascetic Gotama has forbidden the use of miraculous power: now he will do no miracle himself." Their disciples were disturbed, and said to the schismatics, "Why didn't you take the bowl by your supernatural power?" They replied: "This is no hard thing for us, friend. But we think, Who will display before the laity his own fine and subtile powers for the sake of a paltry wooden bowl? and so we did not take it. The ascetics of the Sakya class took it, and showed their supernatural power for sheer foolish greed. Do not imagine it is any trouble to us to work miracles. Suppose we leave out of consideration the disciples of Gotama the ascetic: if we like, we too will show our supernatural powers with the ascetic Gotama himself: if the ascetic Gotama works one miracle, we will work one twice as good."

The Brethren who heard this told the Blessed One of it: "Sir, the schismatics say they will work a miracle." Said the Master, "Let them do it, Brethren; I will do the like." Bimbisāra, hearing this, went and asked the Blessed One: "Will you work a miracle, Sir?" "Yes, O king." "Was there not a command given on this matter, Sir?" "The command, O king, was given to my disciples; there is no command which can rule the Buddhas. 2 4 6 When the flowers and fruit in your park are forbidden 1 to others, the same rule does not apply to you." "Then where will you work this miracle, Sir?" "At Sāvatthi, under a knot-mango tree." "What have I to do, then?" "Nothing, Sire."

Next day, after breaking his fast, the Master went to seek alms. "Whither goes the Master?" asked the people. The Brethren answered to them, "At the gate of the city of Sāvatthi, beneath a knot-mango tree, he is to work a twofold miracle to the confounding of the schismatics." The crowd said, "This miracle will be what they call a masterpiece; we will go see it:" leaving the doors of their houses, they went along with the Master. Some of the schismatics also followed the Master, with their disciples: "We too," they said, "will work a miracle, in the place where the ascetic Gotama shall work his."

By and bye the Master arrived at Sāvatthi. The king asked him, "Is it true, Sir, you are about to work a miracle, as they say?" "Yes, it is true," he said. "When?" asked the king. "On the seventh day from now, at the full moon of the month of June." "Shall I set up a pavilion, Sir?" "Peace, great king: in the place where I shall work my miracle Sakka will set up a pavilion of jewels twelve leagues in compass." "Shall I proclaim this thing through the city, Sir?" "Proclaim it, O king." The king sent forth the Crier of the Truth on an elephant richly caparisoned, to proclaim thus: "News! the Master is about to perform a miracle, for the confounding of the schismatics, at the Gate of Sāvatthi, under a knot-mango tree, seven days from now!" Each day was this proclamation made. When the schismatics heard this news, that the miracle will be done under a knot-mango tree, they had all the mango trees near to Sāvatthi cut down, paying the owners for them.

On the night of the full moon the Crier of the Truth made proclamation, "This day 2 in the morning the miracle will take place." By the power of the gods it was as though all India was at the door and heard the proclamation; whosoever had it in his heart to go, they all beheld themselves at Sāvatthi: for twelve leagues the crowd extended.

Early in the morning the Master went on his rounds seeking alms. The king's gardener, Gaṇḍa or Knot by name, was just taking to the king a fine ripe mango fruit; thoroughly ripe, big as a bushel, when he espied the Master at the city gate.."This fruit is worthy of the Master," said he, and gave it to him. The Master took it, and sitting down then and there on one side, ate the fruit. When it was eaten, he said, "Ānanda, give the gardener this stone to plant here on the spot; 2 5 6 this shall be the knot-mango tree." The Elder did so. The gardener dug a hole in the earth, and planted it. On the

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instant the stone burst, roots sprouted forth, up sprang a red shoot tall as a plough-pole; even as the crowd stared it grew into a mango tree of a hundred cubits, with a trunk fifty cubits and branches of fifty cubits in height; at the same time flowers bloomed, fruit ripened; the tree stood filling the sky, covered with bees, loaden with golden fruit; when the wind blew on it, sweet fruits fell; then the Brethren came up and ate of the fruit, and retired. In the evening time the king of the gods, reflecting, perceived that it was a task laid on him to make a pavilion of the seven precious things. So he sent Vissakamma, and caused him to make a pavilion of the seven precious things, twelve leagues in compass, covered all over with blue lotus. Thus the gods of ten thousand spheres were gathered together. The Master, having for the confounding of the schismatics performed a twofold miracle passing marvellous among his disciples, caused faith to spring up in multitudes, then arose and, sitting in the Buddha's seat, declared the Law. Twenty crores of beings drank of the waters of life. Then, meditating to see whither it was that former Buddhas went when they had done a miracle, and perceiving that it was to the Heaven of the Thirty-three, up he rose from the Buddha's seat, the right foot he placed on the top of Mount Yugandhara 1, and with his left strode to the peak of Sineru, he began the season of rains under the great Coral Tree 2, seated upon the yellow-stone throne; for the space of three months he discoursed upon transcendental doctrine 3 to the gods.

The people knew not the place whither the Master had gone; they looked, and said, "Let us go home," and abode in that place during the rainy season. When the lenten season was near to its end, and the feast was at hand, the great Elder Moggallāna went and announced it to the Blessed One. Thereupon the Master asked him, "Where is Sāriputta now?" "He, Sir, after the miracle which delighted him, remained with five hundred Brethren in the city of Samkassa, and is there still." "Moggallāna, on the seventh day from now I shall descend by the gate of Samkassa. Let those who desire to behold the Tathāgata assemble in the city of Samkassa." The Elder assented, went and told the people: the whole company he transported from Sāvatthi to Samkassa, a distance of thirty leagues, in the twinkling of an eye. Lent over, and the feast celebrated, the Master told king Sakka that he was about to return to the world of men. Then Sakka sent for Vissakamma, and said to him, "Make a stairway for the Dasabala to descend into the world of men." He placed the head of the stairway upon the peak of Sineru, and the foot of it by the gate of Samkassa, and between he made three descents side by side: one of gems, one of silver, and one of gold: 2 6 the balustrade and cornice were of the seven things of price. The Master, having performed a miracle for the world's emancipation, descended by the midmost stair made out of gems. Sakka carried the bowl and robe, Suyāma a yak's-tail fan, Brahma Lord of all beings bore a sunshade, and the deities of ten thousand spheres did worship with divine garlands and perfumes. When the Master stood at the foot of the staircase, first Elder Sāriputta gave him greeting, afterwards the rest of the company.

Amidst this assembly the Master thought, "Moggallāna has been shown to possess supernatural power, Upāli as one who is versed in the sacred law, but the quality of high wisdom possessed by Sāriputta has not been shown. Save and except me, no other possesses wisdom so full and complete as his; I will make known the quality of his wisdom." First of all he asked a question which is put to ordinary persons, and the ordinary persons answered it. Then he asked a question within the scope of those of the First Path, and this they of the First Path answered, but the ordinary folk knew nought of it. In the same way he asked questions in turn within the scope of those of the Second and

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[paragraph continues] Third Paths, of the Saints, of the Chief Disciples; and in each case those who were below each grade in turn were unable to answer, but they who were above could answer. Then he put a question within the power of Sāriputta, and this the Elder could answer, but the others not so. The people asked, "Who is this Elder who answered the Master?" They were told, it was the Captain of the Faith, and Sāriputta was his name. "Ah, great is his wisdom!" they said. Ever afterwards the quality of the Elder's great wisdom was known to men and to gods. Then the Master said to him,

"Some have probations yet to pass, and some have reached the goal:
Their different deportments say, for thou dost know the whole 1."

Having thus asked a question which comes within a Buddha's scope, he added, "Here is a point put with brevity, Sāriputta; what is the meaning of the matter in all its bearings?" The Elder considered the problem. Thought he, "The Master asks of the proper deportment with which the Brethren attain progress, both those who are in the lower Paths and those who are Saints?" As to the general question, he had no doubt. But then he considered, "The proper manner of deportment may be described in many ways of speaking according to the essential elements of being 2, and so forth from that beginning; now in what fashion can I hit the Master's meaning?" He was doubtful about the meaning. The Master thought, "Sāriputta has no doubt of the general question, but doubts what particular side of it I have in view. If I give no clue, he will never be able to answer, so a clue 2 6 I will give him." This clue he gave by saying, "See here, Sāriputta: you grant this to be true?" (mentioning some point). Sāriputta granted the point.

The hint thus given, he knew that Sāriputta had taken his meaning, and would answer fully, starting from the very elements of being. Then the question stood out clear before the Elder, as with a hundred hints, nay, a thousand; and he, at the Master's hint given, answered the question which belonged to a Buddha's scope.

The Master declared the Law to this company which covered twelve leagues of ground: thirty crores of beings drank of the waters of life.

The company was dismissed, and the Master, going on pilgrimage for alms, came by and bye to Sāvatthi. Next day, after seeking alms in Sāvatthi, he came back from his rounds, and told the Brethren of their duty, and entered his Perfumed Chamber. At evening time, the Brethren talked of the high worth of the Elder as they sat in the Hall of Truth. "Great in wisdom, Sirs, is Sāriputta; he has wisdom wide, wisdom swift, wisdom sharp, wisdom keen. The Master put a question in brief, and he answered it fully at large." The Master entering asked what they talked of as they sat there. They told him. "This is not the first time, Brethren," said he, "that he answered at large a question briefly put, but he has done so before;" and he told them a story of the past.

Once upon a time, when Brahmadatta was king of Benares, the Bodhisatta lived in the forest, having been born as a stag. Now the king much delighted in hunting, and a mighty man was he: he reckoned no other man worthy of the name of man. One day as he went a-hunting he said to his courtiers, "Whoever lets a deer go by him, such and such shall be his punishment." They thought, "One may stand in the house and not find the granary 3. When a deer is put up, by hook or by crook

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we must drive him to the place where the king is." They made a pact among them to this effect, and posted the king at the end of the path. Then they surrounded a great covert and began to beat on the ground with cudgels and the like. The first to be put up was our stag. Thrice he went round the thicket, looking for a chance of escape: on all other sides he saw men standing without a break, arm jostling arm and bow bow; only where the king was could he see a chance. 2 6 With eyes glaring, he rushed at the king, dazzling him as though he cast sand in his eyes. Quickly the king saw him, shot an arrow, and missed. You must know these deer are clever to keep clear of arrows. When the shafts come straight at them, the deer stand still and let them fly; let them come from behind, the deer outfly them faster; if they fall from above, they bend the back; from the side, they swerve a little; if the shafts are aimed at the belly, they roll right over, and when they have gone by, off go the deer swift as a cloud which the wind scatters. Thus the king, when he saw this stag roll over, thought he was hit and gave the halloa. Up rose the stag, swift as the wind he was off, breaking the circle of men. The courtiers on both sides who saw the stag get away collected together, and asked, "Whose post did the stag make for?" "The king's!" "But the king is shouting, I've hit him! What has he hit? Our king has missed, I tell you! He has hit the ground!" Thus they made sport of the king, and no stint. "These fellows are laughing at me," thought the king; "they know not my measure." Then girding up his loins, on foot, and sword in hand, he set off at speed crying, "I will catch the stag!" He kept him in sight and chased him for three leagues. The stag plunged into the forest, in plunged the king also. Now in the stag's way was a pit, a great hole where a tree had rotted away, sixty cubits deep, and full of water to a depth of thirty cubits, yet covered over with weeds. The stag sniffed the smell of the water, and perceiving that it was a pit, swerved aside somewhat from his course. But the king went straight on, and fell in. The stag, no longer hearing the sound of his footsteps, turned him about; and seeing no man, understood that he must have fallen into the pit. So he went and looked, and saw him in dire straits, struggling in the deep water; for the evil he had done the stag bore no malice, 2 6 but pitifully thought, "Let not the king perish before my eyes: I will set him free from this distress." Standing upon the edge of the pit, he cried out, "Fear nothing, O king, for I will deliver you from your distress." Then with an effort, as earnest as though he would save his own beloved son, he supported himself upon the rock; and that king who had come after him to slay, him he drew up from out of the pit, sixty cubits in depth, and comforted him, and set him upon his own back, and led him forth from the forest, and set him down not far from his army. Then he admonished the king, and established him in the Five Virtues. But the king could

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not leave the Great Being, but said to him: "My lord king of the stags, come with me to Benares, for I give thee the lordship over Benares, a city that spreads over twelve leagues, that you may rule over it." But he said, "Great king, I am one of the animals, and I want no kingdom. If you have any care for me, keep the good precepts I have taught you, and teach your subjects to keep them too." With this advice, he returned into the forest. And the king returned to his army, and as he remembered the noble qualities of the stag his eyes filled with tears. Surrounded by a division of his army, he went through the city, while the drum of the Law was beat, and caused this proclamation to be made: "From this day forward, let all the dwellers in this city observe the five virtues."

But he told no one of the kindness done to him by the Great Being. After eating many choice meats, in the evening time, he reclined upon his gorgeous couch, and at daybreak remembering the noble qualities of the Great Being, he rose up and sat on the couch cross-legged, and with heart full of joy chanted his aspirations in six stanzas:

"Hope on O man, if thou be wise, nor let thy courage tire:
Myself I see, who now have won the goal of my desire. 1

"Hope on O man, if thou be wise, tire not though harassed sore:
Myself I see, who from the waves have fought my way ashore. 2

"Toil on O man, if thou be wise, nor let thy courage tire:
Myself I see, who now have won the goal of my desire.

"Toil on O man, if thou be wise, tire not though harassed sore:
Myself I see, who from the waves have fought my way ashore.

"He that is wise, though overcome with pain,
Would never cease to hope for bliss again.
2 Many are men's feelings, both of joy and woe:
They think not of it, yet to death they go."

"That comes to pass which is not thought; and that is thought of, fails:
For man or woman's happiness not thought alone avails."

As the king was in the act of chanting these lines, the sun uprose. His chaplain had come thus early to enquire after the king's welfare, and as he stood at the door he heard the sound of this chant, and thought to himself: "Yesterday the king went a-hunting. Doubtless he missed the stag, and being derided by his courtiers declared that he would catch and kill the quarry himself. Then no doubt he chased him, being pricked in his pride as a warrior, and fell into a sixty-cubit pit; and the merciful stag must have pulled him out without a thought of the king's offence against him. That is why the king is chanting this hymn, methinks." Thus the brahmin heard every word of the king's chant; and that which

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fell out betwixt the king and the stag became clear as a face reflected in a well-polished mirror. He knocked at the door with his finger-tips. "Who is there?" the king asked. "It is I, my lord, your chaplain." "Come in, teacher," quoth the king, and opened the door. He entered, and prayed victory for the king, and stood on one side. Then he said, "O great king! I know what happened to you in the forest. As you chased a stag you fell into a pit, and the stag resting upon the stone sides of the pit 1, [271]. drew you out of it. So you remembering his magnanimity chanted a hymn." Then he recited two stanzas:

"The stag that on a mountain steep thy quarry was of late,
He bravely gave thee life, for he was free from greed and hate.

"Out of the horrid pit, out of death's jaws,
    Leaning upon a rock 1 (a friend-at need)
The great stag saved thee: so thou saidst with cause,
    His mind is far aloof from hate or greed."

"What!"thought the king, on hearing this—"the man did not go a-hunting with me, yet he knows the whole matter! How can he know it? I will ask him"; and he repeated the ninth stanza:

"O brahmin! wast thou there upon that day?
    Or from some other witness didst thou hear?
The veil of passion thou hast rolled away:
    Thou seest all: thy wisdom makes me fear."

But the brahmin said, "I am no Buddha all-knowing; only I overheard the hymn that you sang, without missing the meaning, and so the fact became clear before me." To explain which he repeated the tenth stanza:

"O lord of men! I neither heard that thing,
    Nor was I there to see that day:
2 But from the verses thou didst sweetly sing
    Wise men can gather how the matter lay."

The king was delighted, and gave him a rich present.

From thenceforward the king was devoted to almsgiving and good deeds, and his people being also devoted to good deeds as they died went to swell the hosts of heaven.

Now one day it happened that the king went into his park with the chaplain to shoot at a mark. At that period Sakka had been pondering whence came all the new sons and daughters of the gods, whom he beheld so numerous about him. Pondering, he perceived the whole story: how the king had been rescued from the pit by that stag, and how he had become stablished in virtue, and how by the power of this king, multitudes did good deeds and heaven was being filled; and now the king had gone into his park to shoot at a mark. Then he also went thither, that with the

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voice of a lion he might proclaim the nobleness of the stag, and make known that himself was Sakka, and poised in the air might discourse on the Law, and declare the goodness of mercy and the Five Virtues, and then return. Now the king intending to shoot at his mark, strung a bow and fitted an arrow to the string. At that moment Sakka by his power made the stag to appear betwixt the king and the mark; the king seeing it did not let fly. Then Sakka, entering into the body of the chaplain, repeated by him to the king the following stanza:

"Thy shaft is death to many a mighty thing:
Why dost thou hold it quiet on the string?
    Let the shaft fly and kill the stag forthwith:
’Tis meat for monarchs, O most sapient king!"

[273] Thereto the king answered in a stanza:

"I know it, brahmin, no less sure than thou:
The stag is meat for warrior men, I vow,
    But I am grateful for a service done,
And therefore hold my hand from killing now.

Then Sakka repeated a couple of stanzas:

"’Tis no stag, O mighty monarch! but a Titan is this thing,
Thou art king of men; but kill it—of the gods thou shalt be king.

"But if thou hesitate, O valiant king!
    To kill the stag, because he is thy friend:
To death's cold river 1 and to death's dread king 2
    Thou and thy wife and children shall descend."

At this the king repeated two stanzas:

"So be it: to death's river and death's king
    Send me, my wives and children, all my train
Of friends and comrades; I'll not do this thing,
    And by my hand this stag shall not be slain.

[274] "Once in a grisly forest full of dread
    That very stag saved me from hopeless woe.
How can I wish my benefactor dead
    After such service done me long ago?"

Then Sakka came forth from the chaplain's body, and put on his own shape, and poised in the air recited a couple of stanzas which showed forth the noble worth of the king:

"Live long on earth, O true and faithful friend!
    Comfort with truth and goodness this domain;
Then hosts of maidens round thee shall attend
    While thou as Indra 3 mid the gods shalt reign.

"From passion free, with ever-peaceful heart,
    When strangers crave, supply their weary need;
As power is given thee, give, and play thy part 4,
    Blameless, till heaven shall be thy final meed."

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[275] Thus saying, Sakka king of the gods continued as follows: "I came hither to try you, O king, and you have given me no hold. Only be vigilant." And with this advice he returned to his own place.

When the Master had ended this discourse, he said: "This is not the first time, Brethren, that Sāriputta knew in detail what was said only in general terms; but the same thing happened before." Then he identified the Birth: "At that time Ānanda was the king, Sāriputta was the chaplain, and I myself the stag."


166:1 Cf. Jayaddīsa Jātaka, no. 513, vol. v.

166:2 The story is told in Culla-vagga, v. 8 (Vinaya Texts, III. p. 78, in the Sacred Books of the East). The seṭṭhi had placed a sandal-wood bowl on a high pole, and challenged any holy person to get it down. Piṇḍola rose in the air by magic power and took it. For this he was blamed by the Master, as having used his great gift for an unworthy end.

167:1 Reading vāritam.

167:2 The Eastern day is reckoned from sunset to sunset.

168:1 Mount Meru or Sineru, the Indian Olympus, is surrounded by seven concentric circles of hills, the innermost of which is Yugandhara.

168:2 The tree named is the Erythmia Indica; a great one grew in Indra's heaven.

168:3 Abhidhamma.

169:1 Saṃkhatadhamma seems to mean an arahā or asekha.

169:2 The five Khandhas.

169:3 Doubtless a proverb: one may miss the most obvious things.

171:1 The same stanza has occurred already in vol. i. p. 267 (i. 133 of this translation). The first line is found also in i. 450 (trans. i. 274).

171:2 The same stanza in i. 268 (trans. i. 133).

172:1 This may mean "first trying his strength with a stone," as vol. v. pp. 68 and 70. So p. 170 above.

173:1 Vetaraṇī.

173:2 Yama.

173:3 Vāsavo.

173:4 bhutvā, "having eaten," applied to time, means to "pass": bhutvā dvādasa vassāni, Mah. 253.

The Jataka, Vol. IV: No. 484.: Sālikedāra-Jātaka.

The Jataka, Vol. IV, tr. by W.H.D. Rouse, [1901], at

p. 175


No. 484.


[276] "The crop of rice," etc.—This was a story the Master told while dwelling at Jetavana, about a Brother who supported his mother. The occasion will be explained in the Sāma Birth 1. Then the Master sent for this Brother, and asked him, "Is what I hear true, Brother, that you support lay folks?" "It is true, Sir." "Who are they?" "My mother and father, Sir." Said the Master, "Well done, Brother! Wise men of old, even when embodied as the lower animals, having been born as parrots even, when their parents grew old laid them in a nest and fed them with food which they brought in their own beaks." So saying, he told a story of the past.

Once upon a time, a king named King Magadha reigned in Rājagaha. At that time there stood a brahmin village, named Sālindiya, towards the north-east as you go out of the city. In this north-eastern district was property belonging to Magadha. There was a brahmin who lived in Sālindiya, whose name was Kosiyagotta 2, and he held an estate of one thousand acres 3, where he grew rice. When the crop was standing, he made a stout fence, and gave the land in charge to his own men, to one fifty acres, to another sixty, and so he distributed among them some five hundred acres of his estate. 2 The other five hundred he delivered to a hired man for a wage, and the man made a hut there and dwelt there day and night. Now to the north-east of this estate was a certain great wood of silk-cotton trees 4, growing upon the flat top of a hill, and in this wood lived a great number of parrots.

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At that time the Bodhisatta was born among this flock of parrots, as the son of the king of the parrots. He grew up handsome and strong, big his body was as the nave of a cart-wheel. His father now grown old said to him, "I am able no longer to go far afield; do you take care of this flock," and committed the lordship of it to his son. From the next day onwards he refused to permit his parents to go foraging; but with the whole flock away he flew to the Himalaya hills, and after eating his fill of the clumps of rice that grew wild there, on his return brought food sufficient for his mother and father, and fed them with it.

One day the parrots asked him a question. "Formerly," they said, "the rice was ripe by this time on the Magadha farm; is it grown now or not?" "Go and see," he replied, and then sent two parrots to find out. The parrots departed, and alighted in the Magadha lands, in that part which was guarded by the hired man; rice they ate, and one head of rice they took back with them to their wood, and dropt it before the Great Being's feet, saying, "Such is the rice which grows there." He went next day to the farm, and alighted, with all his flock. The man ran this way and that, trying to drive off the birds, but drive them away he could not. The rest of the parrots ate, and departed with empty beaks; but the parrot king gathered together a quantity of rice, and brought it back to his parents. Next day the parrots ate the rice there again, and so afterwards. Then the man began to think, 2 "If these creatures go on eating for another few days, there will not be a bit left. The brahmin will have a price put on the rice, and fine me in the sum. I will go tell him." Taking a handful of rice, and a gift with it, he went to see the brahmin, and greeted him, and stood on one side. "Well, my good man," said the master, "is there a good crop of rice?" "Yes, brahmin, there is," he replied, and repeated two stanzas:

"The crop of rice is very nice, but I would have you know,
The parrots are devouring it, I cannot make them go.

"There is one bird, of all the herd the finest, who first feeds,
Then takes a bundle in his beak to meet his future needs."

When the brahmin heard this, he conceived an affection for the parrot king. "My man," quoth he, "do you know how to set a snare?" "Yes, I know." The master then addressed him in this stanza:

"Then set a snare of horse's hair that captured he may be;
And see thou take the bird alive and bring him here to me."

The farm watchman was much pleased that no price had been put upon the rice, and no debt spoken of. He went straight and made a snare of horsehair. Then he found out when they were like to descend that day; and spying out the place where the parrot king alighted, next day very early in the morning he made a cage about the size of a water-pot, and set

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the snare, and sat down in his hut looking for the parrots to come. The parrot king came amidst all his flock; and he being by no means greedy, 2 came down in the same place as yesterday, with his foot right in the noose. When he found his foot fast he thought, "Now if I cry out the cry of the captured, my kinsfolk will be so terrified, they will fly away foodless. I must endure until they have finished their food." When at last he perceived that they had taken their fill, being in fear of his life, he thrice cried the cry of the captured. All the birds flew off. Then the king of the parrots said, "All these my kith and kin, and not one to look back at me! What sin have I done?" And upbraiding them he uttered a stanza:

"They ate, they drank, and now away they hasten every one,
I only caught within a snare: what evil have I done?"

The watchman heard the cry of the parrot king, and the sound of the other parrots flying through the air. "What is that?" thought he. Up he got from his hut, and went to the place of his snare, and there he saw the king of the parrots. "The very bird I set the snare for is caught!" he cried, in high delight. He took the parrot out of the snare, and tied both his feet together, and making his way to Sālindiya village, he delivered the bird to the brahmin. The brahmin in his strong affection for the Great Being, caught hold of him tight in both hands, and seating him on his hip, bespoke him in these two stanzas:

"The bellies of all others are outbellied far by you:
First a full meal, then off you fly with a good beak-full too

"Have you a granary there to fill? or do you hate me sore?
I ask it you, come tell me true—where do you put your store?

On hearing this, the parrot king answered, repeating in a human voice sweet as honey the seventh stanza:


"I hate thee not, O Kosiya! no granary I own;
Once in my wood I pay a debt, and also grant a loan,
And there I store a treasure up: so be my answer known."

Then the brahmin asked him:

"What is that loan the which you grant? what is the debt you pay?
Tell me the treasure you store up, and then fly free away."

To this request of the brahmin the parrot king made reply, explaining his intent in four stanzas:

"My callow chicks, my tender brood, whose wings are still ungrown,
Who shall support me by and bye: to them I grant the loan.

"Then my old ancient parents, who far from youth's bounds are set,
With that within my beak I bring, to them I pay my debt.

"And other birds of helpless wing, and weak full many more,
To these I give in charity: this sages call my store.

"This is that loan the which I grant, this is the debt I pay,
And this the treasure I store up: now I have said my say."

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The brahmin was pleased when he heard this pious discourse from the Great Being; and he repeated two stanzas:

"What noble principles of life! how blessed is this bird!
From many men who live on earth such rules are never heard.

[281] "Eat, eat your fill whereas you will, with all your kindred too;
And, parrot! let us meet-again: I love the sight of you."

With these words, he looked upon the Great Being with a soft heart, as though it were his liefest son; and loosing the bonds from his feet, he rubbed them with oil an hundred times refined, and seated him on a seat of honour, and gave him to eat sweetened corn upon a golden dish, and gave him sugar-water to drink. After this the king of the parrots warned the brahmin to be careful, reciting this stanza:

"O Kosiya! within thy dwelling here
I had both food and drink and friendship dear.
Give thou to those whose burden is laid down,
Support thy parents when they old are grown."

The brahmin then delighted in heart uttered his ecstasy in this stanza:

"Surely Luck's goddess came herself to-day
    When I set eyes upon this peerless bird!
I will do kindly deeds and never stay,
    Now that the parrot's sweet voice I have heard."

But the Great Being refused to accept the thousand acres which the brahmin offered him, but took only eight acres. The brahmin set up boundary stones, and made over this property to him; and then, raising his hands to his head in reverence, he said, "Go in peace, my lord, and console your weeping parents," and then let him go. Much pleased, he took a head of rice, and carried it to his parents, and dropt it before them, saying, "Arise now, my dear parents!" They arose at his word, with blubbered faces. 2 Then flocks of parrots began together, asking," How did you get free, my lord?" He told them the whole story from beginning to end. And Kosiya followed 1 the advice of the king of the parrots, and distributed much alms to the righteous men, and ascetics, and brahmins.

The last stanza was repeated by the Master explaining this:

"This Kosiya with joy and great delight
    Common and plentiful made drink and food:
With food and drink he satisfied aright
    Brahmins and holy men, himself all good."

When the Master had ended this discourse, he said, "Thus, Brethren, to support one's parents is the traditional way of the wise and good." Then, having declared the Truths, he identified the Birth:—(now at the conclusion of the Truths that Brother became established in the fruit of the First Path:)—"At that time the Buddha's followers were the flock of parrots, two of the king's family were the father and mother, Channa was the watchman, Ānanda the brahmin, and I was myself the king of the parrots."


175:1 No. 540; vol. vi. 68 of the Pali text.

175:2 One of the "Kausika (owl) or Viçvāmitra clan."

175:3 karīsa.

175:4 simbali: Bombax Heptaphyllum.

178:1 Reading katvā for datvā, which contradicts the context.

The Jataka, Vol. IV: No. 485.: Canda-Kinnara-Jātaka.

The Jataka, Vol. IV, tr. by W.H.D. Rouse, [1901], at

p. 179

No. 485.


"’Tis passing away," etc. This is a story which the Master told, while dwelling in the banyan grove hard by Kapilapura about Rāhula's mother when she was in the palace.

This Birth must be told beginning from the Distant Epoch of the Buddha's existence 1. But the story of the Epochs, as far as the lion's roar of Kassapa 2 of Uruvelā, in Laṭṭhivana 3, the Bamboo Forest, has been told before in the Apaṇṇaka Birth 4. Beginning from that point you will read in the Vessantara Birth 5 the continuation of it as far as to the coming to Kapilavatthu. The Master, seated in his father's house, during the meal, recounted the Mahādhammapāla Birth 6; and after the meal was done he said,—"I will praise the noble qualities of Rāhula's mother in her own house, by telling the Canda-Kinnara Birth." Then handing his bowl to the king, with the two Chief Disciples he passed over to the house of Rāhula's mother. At that time there were forty thousand dancing girls who lived in her presence, and of them a thousand and ninety were maidens of the warrior caste. When the lady heard of the Tathāgata's coming she bade all these put on yellow robes, and they did so. 2 3 The Master came and took his seat in a place which was assigned him. Then all the women cried out with one voice, and there was a great sound of lamentation. Rāhula's mother having wept and so put away her grief, welcomed the Master, and sat down, with the deep reverence due to a king. Then the king began the tale of her goodness: "Listen to me, Sir; she heard that you wore yellow robes, and so she robed her in yellow; that garlands and such things are to be given up, and lo she has given up garlands and sits upon the ground. When you entered upon the religious life she became a widow; and refused the gifts that other kings sent her. So faithful is her heart to you." Thus he told of her goodness in many different ways. The Master said, "It is no marvel, great king! that now in my last existence the lady should love me, and should be of faithful heart and led by me alone. So also, even when born as an animal, she was faithful and mine alone." Then at the king's request he told a story of the past.

Once upon a time when Brahmadatta was king in Benares the Great Being was born in the region of the Himalaya as a fairy 7. His wife was

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named Candā 1. These two dwelt together on a silver mountain named Canda-pabbata, or the Mountain of the Moon. At that time the king of Benares had committed his government to his ministers, and all alone dressed in two yellow robes, and armed with the five weapons 2, he proceeded to the Himalayas.

Whilst eating his venison he remembered where was a little stream, and began to climb the hill. Now the fairies that live on the Mountain of the Moon in the rainy season remain on the mountain, and come down only in the hot weather. At that time this fairy Canda, with his mate, came down and wandered about, anointing himself with perfumes, eating the pollen of flowers, clothing himself in flower-gauze for inner and outer garments, swinging in the creepers to amuse himself, singing songs in a honey-voice. He too came to this stream; and at one halting-place he went down into it with his wife, scattering flowers about and playing in the water. Then they put on again their garments of flowers, and on a sandy spot white as a silver plate they spread a couch of flowers, and lay there. 2 4 Picking up a piece of bamboo, the male fairy began to play upon it, and sang with a honey-voice; while his mate waving her soft hands danced hard by and sang withal. The king caught the sound, and treading softly that his footsteps might not be heard, he approached, and stood watching the fairies in a secret place. He immediately fell in love with the female fairy. "I will shoot the husband," thought he, "and kill him, and I will live here with the wife." Then he shot the fairy Canda, who lamenting in his pain uttered four stanzas:

"’Tis passing away, methinks, and my blood is flowing, flowing,
I am losing my hold on life, O Candā! my breath is going!

"’Tis sinking, I am in pain, my heart is burning, burning:
But ’tis for thy sorrow, Candā, the heart within me is yearning.

"As grass, as a tree I perish, as a waterless river I dry:
But ’tis for thy sorrow, Candā, my heart within me is yearning.

"As rain on a lake at the mountain foot are the tears that fall from my eye:
But ’tis for thy sorrow, Canda, my heart within me is yearning."

Thus did the Great Being lament in four stanzas; and lying upon his couch of flowers, he lost consciousness, and turned away. The king stood where he was. But the other fairy did not know that the Great Being was wounded, not even when he uttered his lament, being intoxicated with her own delight. 2 5 Seeing him lie there turned away and lifeless, she began to wonder what could be the matter with her lord. As she examined him she saw the blood oozing from the mouth of the wound, and being unable to bear the great pain of sorrow for her beloved husband, she

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cried out with a loud voice. "The fairy must be dead," thought the king, and he came out and showed himself. When Candā beheld him she thought, "This must be the brigand who has slain my dear husband!" and trembling she took to flight. Standing upon the hill-top she denounced the king in five stanzas:

"Yon evil prince—ah, woe is me!—my husband dear did wound,
Who there beneath a woodland tree now lies upon the ground.

"O prince! the woe that wrings my heart may thy own mother pay,
The woe that wrings my heart to see my fairy dead this day!

"Yea, prince! the woe that wrings my heart may thy own wife repay,
The woe that wrings my heart to see my fairy dead this day!

"And may thy mother mourn her lord, and may she mourn her son,
Who on my lord most innocent for lust this deed hast done.

"And may thy wife look on and see the loss of lord and son,
For thou upon my harmless lord for lust this deed hast done."

When she had thus made her moan in these five stanzas, standing upon the mountain top the king comforted her by another stanza:

"Weep not nor grieve: the woodland dark has blinded you, I ween:
A royal house shall honour thee, and thou shalt be my queen."

[286] "What is this word thou hast said?" cried Candā, when she heard it; and loud as a lion's roar she declaimed the next stanza:

"No! I will surely slay myself! thine I will never be,
Who slew my husband innocent and all for lust for me."

When he heard this his passion left him, and he recited another stanza:

"Live if thou wilt, O timid one! to Himalaya go:
Creatures that feed on shrub and tree 1 the woodland love, I know."

With these words he departed indifferent. Candā so soon as she knew him gone came up and, embracing the Great Being took him up to the hill-top, and laid him on the flat land there: placing his head on her lap, she made her moan in twelve stanzas:

"Here in the hills and mountain caves, in many a glen and grot,
What shall I do, O fairy mine! now that I see thee not?

"The wild beasts range, the leaves are spread on many a lovely spot:
What shall I do, O fairy mine, now that I see thee not?

"The wild beasts range, sweet flowers are spread on many a lovely spot:
What shall I do, O fairy mine, now that I see thee not?

[287] "Clear run the rivers down the hills, with flowers all overgrown:
What shall I do, O fairy mine, now thou hast left me lone?

"Blue are the Himalaya hills, most fair they are to see:
What shall I do, O fairy mine, now I behold not thee?

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"Gold tips the Himalaya hills, most fair they are to see:
What shall I do, O fairy mine, now I behold not thee?"

The Himalaya hills glow red, most fair they are to see:
What shall I do, O fairy mine, now I behold not thee?

"Sharp are the Himalaya peaks, they are most fair to see:
What shall I do, O fairy mine, now I behold not thee?

"White gleam the Himalaya peaks, they are most fair to see:
What shall I do, O fairy mine, now I behold not thee?

"The Himalaya rainbow-hued, most fair it is to see:
What shall I do, O fairy mine, now I behold not thee?

"Hill Fragrant 1 is to goblins dear; plants cover every spot
What shall I do, O fairy mine, now that I see thee not?

"The fairies love the Fragrant Hill, plants cover every spot:
What shall I do, O fairy mine, now that I see thee not?"

So did she make her moan; and putting the hand of the Great Being on her breast she felt that it still was warm. "Canda lives yet!" she thought: "I will taunt the gods 2 until I bring him to life again!" Then she cried aloud, taunting them, "Are there none who govern the world? 2 are they on a journey? or peradventure they are dead, and therefore save not my dear husband!" By the power of her pain Sakka's throne became hot. Pondering he perceived the cause; in the form of a brahmin he approached, and from a water-pot took water and sprinkled the Great Being with it. On the instant the poison ceased to act, his colour returned, he knew not so much as the place where the wound had been: the Great Being stood up quite well. Candā seeing her well-beloved husband to be whole, in joy fell at the feet of Sakka,, and sang his praise in the following stanza:

"Praise, holy brahmin! who didst give unto a hapless wife
Her well-loved husband, sprinkling him with the elixir of life!"

Sakka then gave this advice: "From this time forth go not down from the Mountain of the Moon among the paths of men, but abide here." Twice he repeated this, and then returned to his own place. And Candā said to her husband, "Why stay here in danger, my lord? come, let us go to the Mountain of the Moon," reciting the last stanza:

"To the mountain let us go,
Where the lovely rivers flow,
    Rivers all o’ergrown with flowers:
There for ever, while the breeze
Whispers in a thousand trees,
    Charm with talk the happy hours."

When the Master had ended this discourse, he said: "Not now only, but long ago as now, she was devoted and faithful of heart to me." Then he identified the Birth: "At that time Anuruddha was the king, Rāhula's mother was Candā, and I myself was the fairy."


179:1 The existence of the Buddha is divided into three periods: the Distant Epoch (dūrenidānaṁ), the Middle (avidūre°) and the Near (santike°). The Distant Epoch extends "from the time when he fell at the feet of Dīpaṅkara to his birth in the city of the Tusita gods" (Jat. i. p. 47, Pali text): the Middle Epoch from that time until he obtained Buddhahood (Jat. i. 76); the Near Epoch, until his death.—See Rhys David's Buddhist Birth Stories, pp. 2, 58; Warren, Buddhism in Translations, pp. 38, 82.

179:2 One of three brahmin brothers living at Uruvelā, converted by the Buddha.

179:3 Near Rājagaha: Jat. i. 84 (Pali).

179:4 No. 1. The Nidāna-Kathā is the Introduction to this Collection, not translated in this edition, but translated in Rhys David's Buddhist Birth Stories.

179:5 No. 547, vol. vi. p. 479.

179:6 No. 447, vol. iv. p. 50, Pali (p. 32 above).

179:7 Kinnara.

180:1 Cando m. means the Moon. The tale seems to contain a nature myth.

180:2 Sword, spear, bow, battle-axe, shield.

181:1 Two are named, Corypha Taliera and Tabernaemontana Coronaria.

182:1 Gandha-mādana.

182:2 Ujjhānakammaṁ katvā, i.e. by "provoking" Sakka to help. The reader will be struck with the resemblance of Elijah's taunts, 1 Kings xviii. 27: "Cry aloud, for he is a god; either he is talking, or he is pursuing, or he is in a journey, or peradventure he sleepeth and must be awaked."

The Jataka, Vol. IV: No. 486.: Mahā-Ukkusa-Jātaka.

The Jataka, Vol. IV, tr. by W.H.D. Rouse, [1901], at

p. 183

No. 486.


"The country churls," etc.—This story the Master told while dwelling at Jetavana, about Mitta-gandhaka, a lay Brother. 2 This man, they say, the offspring of a decayed family at Sāvatthi, sent a companion to offer marriage to a young gentlewoman. The question was asked, "Has he friend or comrade who can dispose of any matter that needs looking to?" Reply was made, "No, there was none." "Then he must make some friends first," they said to him. The man followed this advice, and struck up a friendship with the four gatekeepers. After this he made friends by degrees with the town warders, the astrologers, the nobles of the court, even with the commander-in-chief and the viceroy; and by association with them he became the king's friend, and after that a friend of the eighty chief Elders, and through Elder Ānanda, with the Tathāgata himself. Then the Master established his family in the Refuges and the Virtues, the king gave him high place, and he was known as Mitta-gandhaka, the "man of many friends 1." The king bestowed a great house upon him, and caused his nuptial feast to be celebrated, and a world of people from the king downwards sent him gifts. Then his wife received a present sent by the king, and the viceroy's present sent by the viceroy, and the present of the commander-in-chief, and so forth, having all the people of the city bound to her. On the seventh day, with great ceremony the Dasabala was invited by the newly married pair, great gifts were bestowed on the Buddha and his company to the number of five hundred; at the end of the feast they received the Master's thanks and were both established in the fruit of the First Path.

In the Hall of Truth all were talking about it. "Brethren, the layman Mitta-gandhaka followed his wife's advice, and by her means became a friend to every one, and received great honour at the king's hand; and having become friends with the Master both husband and wife were established in the fruit of the First Path." The Master entering asked what they talked of. They told him. He said, "This is not the first time, Brethren, that this man has received great honour by reason of this woman. In days long gone by, when he was an animal, by her advice he made many friends, and was set free from anxiety on a son's behalf." So saying he told a story of the past.

Once upon a time, when Brahmadatta was king of Benares, certain men of the marches used to make a settlement, wheresoever they could best find their food, dwelling in the forest, and killing for meat for themselves and their families the game which abounded there. 2 Not far from their village was a large natural lake, and upon its southward shore lived a Hawk, on the west a she-hawk; on the north a Lion, king of the beasts; on the east an Osprey, king of the birds; in the middle dwelt a Tortoise on. a small island. The Hawk asked the she-hawk to become his wife. She asked him, "Have you any friend?" "No, madam," he replied. "We must have some one who can defend us against any danger or trouble that may arise, and you must find some friends." "Whom shall

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[paragraph continues] I make friends with?" "Why, with king Osprey who lives on the eastern shore, and with the Lion on the north, and with the Tortoise who dwells in the middle of this lake." He took her advice and did so. Then the two lived together (it should be said that on a little islet in the same lake grew a kadamba tree, surrounded by the water on all sides) in a nest which they made.

Afterwards there were given to them two sons. One day, while the wings of the younglings were yet callow, some of the country folk went foraging through the woods all day and found nothing. Not wishing to return home empty-handed, they went down to the lake to catch a fish or a tortoise. They got on the island, and lay down beneath the kadamba tree; and there being tormented by the bites of gnats and mosquitoes, to drive these away, they kindled a fire by rubbing sticks together, and made a smoke. The smoke rising annoyed the birds, and the young ones uttered a cry. "’Tis the cry of birds!" said the country folk. "Up, make up the fire: we cannot lie here hungry, but before we lie down we will have a meal of fowls' flesh." They made the fire blaze, and built it up. But the mother bird hearing the sound, thought, "These men wish to eat our young ones. We made friends to save us from that danger. I will send my mate to the great Osprey." 1 2 Then she said, "Go, my husband, tell the Osprey of the danger which threatens our young," repeating this stanza:

"The country churls build fires upon the isle,
To eat my young ones in a little while:
O Hawk! to friend and comrade give the word,
My children's danger tell to every bird!"

The cock-bird flew at all speed to the place, and gave a cry to announce his arrival. Leave given, he came near to the Osprey, and made his greeting. "Why have you come?" asked the Osprey. Then the cock repeated the second stanza:

"O wingèd fowl! chiefest of birds art thou:
So, Osprey king, I seek thy shelter now.
Some country-folk a-hunting now are fain
To eat my young: be thou my joy again!"

"Fear not," said the Osprey to the Hawk, and consoling him he repeated the third stanza:

"In season, out of season, wise men make
Both friends and comrades for protection's sake:
For thee, O Hawk! I will perform this deed;
The good must help each other at their need."

[292] Then he went on to ask, "Have the churls climbed up the tree, my friend?" "They are not climbing yet; they are just piling wood on the fire." "Then you had better go quickly and comfort my

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friend your mate, and say I am coming." He did so. The Osprey went also, and from a place near to the kadamba tree he watched for the men to climb, sitting upon a tree-top. Just as one of the boors who was climbing the tree had come near to the nest, the Osprey dived into the lake, and from wings and beak sprinkled water over the burning brands, so that they were put out. Down came the men, and made another fire to cook the bird and its young; when they climbed again, once more the Osprey demolished the fire. So whenever a fire was made, the bird put it out, and midnight came. The bird was much distressed: the skin under his stomach had become quite thin, his eyes were blood-shot. Seeing him, the hen-bird said to her mate, "My lord, the Osprey is tired out; go and tell the Tortoise, that he may have a rest." When he heard this, the bird approaching the Osprey, addressed him in a stanza:

"Good help the good: the necessary deed
Thou hast in pity done for us at need.
Our young are safe, thou living: have a care
Of thy own self, nor all thy strength outwear."

On hearing these words, loud as a lion's roar he repeated the fifth stanza:

"While I am keeping guard about this tree,
I care not if I lose my life for thee:
So use the good: thus friend will do for friend:
Yea, even if he perish at the end."

[293] But the sixth stanza was repeated by the Master, in his Perfect Wisdom, as he praised the bird's goodness:

"The egg-born bird that flies the air did a most painful work,
The Osprey, guarding well the chicks before the midnight murk."

Then the Hawk said, "Rest awhile, friend Osprey," and then away to the Tortoise, whom he aroused. "What is your errand, friend?" asked the Tortoise.—"Such and such a danger has come upon us, and the royal Osprey has been labouring hard ever since the first watch, and is very weary; that is why I have come to you." With these words he repeated the seventh stanza:

"Even they who fall through sin or evil deed
May rise again if they get help in need.
My young in danger, straight I fly to thee:
O dweller in the lake, come, succour me!"

On hearing this the Tortoise repeated another stanza:

"The good man to a man who is his friend,
Both food and goods, even life itself, will lend.
For thee, O Hawk! I will perform this deed:
The good must help each other at their need."

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His son, who lay not far off, hearing the words of his father thought, "I would not have my father troubled, but I will do my father's part," and therefore he repeated the ninth stanza:

"Here at thy ease remain, O father mine,
And I thy son will do this task of thine.
2 4 A son should serve a father, so ’tis best;
I'll save the Hawk his young ones in the nest."

The father Tortoise addressed his son in a stanza:

"So do the good, my son, and it is true
That son for father service ought to do.
Yet they may leave the Hawk's young brood alone,
Perchance, if they see me so fully grown."

With these words the Tortoise sent the Hawk away, adding, "Fear not, my friend, but go you before and I will come presently after." He dived into the water, collected some mud, and went to the island, quenched the flame, and lay still. Then the countrymen cried, "Why should we trouble about the young hawks? Let us roll over this cursed 1 Tortoise, and kill him! He will be enough for all." So they plucked some creepers and got some strings, but when they had made them fast in this place or that, and torn their clothes to strips for the purpose, they could not roll the Tortoise over. The Tortoise lugged them along with him and plunged in deep water. The men were so eager to get him that in they fell after: splashed about, and scrambled out with a belly-full of water. "Just look," said they: "half the night one Osprey kept putting out our fire, and now this Tortoise has made us fall into the water, and swallow it, to our great discomfort. Well, we will light another fire, and at sunrise we will eat those young hawks." Then they began to make a fire. The hen-bird heard the noise they were making, and said, "My husband, sooner or later these men will devour our young and depart: you go and tell our friend the Lion." 2 5 At once he went to the Lion, who asked him why he came at such an unseasonable hour. The bird told him all from the beginning, and repeated the eleventh stanza:

"Mightiest of all the beasts, both beasts and men
    Fly to the strongest when beset with fear.
My young ones are in danger; help me then:
    Thou art our king, and therefore I am here."

This said, the Lion repeated a stanza:

"Yes, I will do this service, Hawk, for thee:
    Come, let us go and slay this gang of foes!
    Surely the prudent, he who wisdom knows,
Protector of a friend must try to be."

Having thus spoken, he dismissed him, saying, "Now go, and comfort your young ones." Then he went forward, churning up the crystal water.

p. 187

[paragraph continues] When the churls perceived him approaching, they were frightened to death: "The Osprey," they cried, "put out our fire-brands; the Tortoise made us lose the clothes we had on: but now we are done for. This Lion will destroy us at once." They ran this way and that: when the Lion came to the foot of the tree, nothing could he see. 2 6 Then the Osprey, the Hawk, and the Tortoise came up, and accosted him. He told them the profitableness of friendship, and said, "From this time forth be careful never to break the bonds of friendship." With this advice he departed: and they also went each to his own place. The hen-hawk looking upon her young, thought—"Ah, through friends have my young been given back to me!" and as she rejoiced, she spoke to her mate, and recited six stanzas declaring the effect of friendship:

"Get friends, a houseful of them without fail,
    Get a great friend: a blessing he'll be found 1:
Vain strike the arrows on a coat of mail.
    And we rejoice, our younglings safe and sound.

"By their own comrade's help, the friend who stayed to take their part,
One chirps, the fledglings chirp reply, with notes that charm the heart.

"The wise asks help at friend's or comrade's hand,
    Lives happy with his goods and brood of kind:
So I, my mate, and young, together stand,
    Because our friend to pity was inclined.

"A man needs king and warriors for protection:
And these are his whose friendship is perfection:
Thou cravest happiness: he is famed and strong;
He surely prospers to whom friends belong.

"Even by the poor and weak, O Hawk, good friends must needs be found:
See now by kindness we and ours each one are safe and sound.

"The bird who wins a hero strong to play a friendly part,
As thou and I are happy, Hawk, is happy in his heart."

[297] So she declared the quality of friendship in six stanzas. And all this company of friends lived all their lives long without breaking the bond of friendship, and then passed away according to their deeds.

The Master, having ended this discourse, said, "This is not the first time, Brethren, that he won to bliss by his wife's means; it was the same before." With these words, he identified the Birth: "At that time the married pair were the pair of Hawks, Rāhula was the young Tortoise, Moggallāna was the old Tortoise, Sāriputta the Osprey, and I was myself the Lion.


183:1 Literally "binder of friends."

186:1 Reading kāla-.

187:1 Reading sukhāgamāya.

The Jataka, Vol. IV: No. 487.: Uddālaka-Jātaka.

The Jataka, Vol. IV, tr. by W.H.D. Rouse, [1901], at

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No. 487.


"With uncleansed teeth," etc.—This story the Master told, while dwelling in Jetavana, about a dishonest man. This man, even though dedicate to the faith that leads to salvation, notwithstanding to gain life's necessaries fulfilled the threefold practice of knavery. The Brethren brought to light all the evil parts in the man as they conversed together in the Hall of Truth: "Such a one, Brethren, after he had dedicated himself to this great faith of Buddha which leads to salvation, yet lives in deceit!" The Master came in, and would know what they talked of there. They told him. Said he, "This is not now the first time; he was deceitful before," and so saying he told a story of the past.

[293] Once upon a time, when Brahmadatta was king in Benares, the Bodhisatta was chaplain, and a wise, learned man was he. On a certain day, he went into his park to disport him, and seeing a beauteous light-skirts fell in love with her, and took up his abode with her. He got her with child, and when she perceived it she said to him: "Sir, I am with child; when he is born, and I am to name him, I will give him his grandfather's name." But he thought, "It can never be that the name of a noble family should be given to a slave-girl's bastard." Then he said to her, "My dear, this tree here is called Uddāla 2, and you may name the child Uddālaka because he was conceived here." Then he gave her a seal-ring, and said, "If it be a girl use this to help bring her up; but if a boy, bring him to me when he grows up."

In due time she brought forth a son, and named him Uddālaka. When he grew up, he asked his mother, "Mother, who is my father?"—"The chaplain, my boy."—"If that is so, I will learn the holy books." So receiving the ring from his mother, and a teacher's fee, he journeyed to Takkasilā and learnt there of a world-renowned teacher. In the course of his studies he saw a company of ascetics. "These must surely have the perfect knowledge," thought he, "I will learn of them." Accordingly he renounced the world, so eager he was for knowledge, and did menial service for them, begging them in return to teach him their own wisdom. So they taught him all they knew; but among the whole five hundred of them not one there was outdid him in knowledge, he was the wisest of them all. Then they gathered together and appointed him to be their teacher. He

p. 189

said to them, "Venerable sirs, you always live in the woodland eating of fruits and roots; why do you not go in the paths of men?" "Sir," they said, "men are willing to give us gifts, but they make us show gratitude by declaring the law, they ask us questions: for fear of this we go not ever among them." He answered, "Sirs, if you have me, let a universal monarch ask questions, leave me to settle them, and fear nothing." So he went on pilgrimage with them, seeking alms, and at last came to Benares, 2 and stayed in the king's park. Next day, in company with them all, he sought alms in a village before the city gate. The folk gave them alms in plenty. On the day following the ascetics traversed the city, the folk gave them alms in plenty. The ascetic Uddālaka gave thanks, and blest them, and answered questions. The people were edified, and gave all they had need of in great abundance. The whole city buzzed with the news, "A wise teacher is come, a holy ascetic," and the king got wind of it." Where do they live?" asked the king. They told him, "In the park." "Good," quoth he, "this day I will go and see them." A man went and told it to Uddālaka, saying, "The king is to come and see you to-day." He called the company together, and said, "Sirs, the king is coming: win favour in the eyes of the great for one day, it is enough for a lifetime." "What must we do, teacher?" they asked. Then he said, "Some of you must be at the swinging penance 1, some squat on the ground 2, some lie upon beds of spikes, some practise the penance of the five fires 3, others go down into the water, others again recite holy verses in this place or that." They did as he bade. Himself with wise men eight or ten sat upon a prepared seat with a head-rest disputing, a fair volume beside him laid upon a beautiful standish, and listeners all around. At that moment the king with his chaplain and a great company came into the park, and when he saw them all deep in their sham austerities, he was pleased and thought, "They are free from all fear of evil states hereafter." Approaching Uddālaka, he greeted him graciously and sat down on one side; then in the delight of his heart began speaking to the chaplain, and recited the first stanza 4:

"With uncleansed teeth, and goatskin garb and hair
All matted, muttering holy words in peace:
Surely no human means to good they spare,
Surely they know the Truth, have won Release."

p. 190

[300] Hearing this, the chaplain replied, "The king is pleased where he should not be pleased, and I must not be silent." Then he repeated the second stanza:

"A learned sage may do ill deeds, O king:
    A learned sage may fail to follow right.
A thousand Vedas will not safety bring,
    Failing just works, or save from evil plight."

Uddālaka, when he heard these words thought to himself, "The king was pleased with the ascetics, be they what you will; but this man comes a clap over the snout of the ox when he goes too fast, drops dirt in the dish all ready to eat: I must talk to him." So he addressed to him the third stanza:

"A thousand Vedas will not safety bring
    Failing just works, or save from evil plight:
The Vedas then, must be a useless thing:
    True doctrine is—control yourself, do right."

[301] At this the chaplain recited the fourth stanza:

"Not so: the Vedas are no useless thing:
    Though works with self-control, true doctrine is.
To study well the Vedas fame will bring,
    But by right conduct we attain to bliss."

Now thought Uddālaka, "It will never do to be on ill terms with this man. If I tell him I am his son, he needs must love me; I will tell him I am his son." Then he recited the fifth stanza:

"Parents and kinsmen claim one's care;
A second self our parents are:
I'm Uddālaka, a shoot,
Noble brahmin, from thy root."

"Are you indeed Uddālaka?" he asked. "Yes," said the other. Then he said, "I gave your mother a token, where is it?" He said, "Here it is, brahmin," and handed him the ring. The brahmin knew the ring again, and said, "Without doubt you are a brahmin; but do you know the duties of a brahmin?" He enquired concerning these duties in the words of the sixth stanza:


"What makes the brahmin? how can he be perfect? tell me this:
What is a righteous man, and how wins he Nirvana's bliss?"

Uddālaka explained it in the seventh stanza:

"The world renounced, with fire, he worship pays,
    Pours water, lifts the sacrificial pole:
As one who does his duty men him praise,
    And such a brahmin wins him peace of soul."

The chaplain listened to his account of the brahmin's duties, but found fault with it, reciting the eighth stanza as follows:

"Not sprinkling makes the brahmin pure, perfection is not this,
Nor peace nor kindness thus he wins nor yet Nirvana's bliss."

p. 191

Hereupon Uddālaka asked, "If this does not make the brahmin, then what does?" reciting the ninth stanza:

"What makes the brahmin? how can he be perfect? tell me this:
What is a righteous man? and how wins he Nirvana's bliss?"

[303] The chaplain answered by reciting another stanza:

"He has no field, no goods, no wish, no kin,
    Careless of life, no lusts, no evil ways:
Even such a brahmin peace of soul shall win,
    So as one true to duty men him praise."

After this Uddālaka recited a stanza:

"Khattiya, Brahmin, Vessa, Sudda, and Caṇḍāla, Pukkusa 1,
All these can be compassionate, can win Nirvana's bliss:
Who among all the saints is there who worse or better is?"

Then the brahmin recited a stanza, to show that there is no higher or lower from the moment sainthood is won:

"Khattiya, Brahmin, Vessa, Sudda, and Caṇḍāla, Pukkusa,
All these can be compassionate, can win Nirvana's bliss:
None among all the saints is found who worse or better is."

But Uddālaka found fault with this, reciting a couple of stanzas:

"Khattiya, Brahmin, Vessa, Sudda, and Caṇḍāla, Pukkusa,
All these can virtuous be, and all attain Nirvana's bliss:
None among all the saints is found who worse or better is.
You are a brahmin, then, for nought: vain is your rank, I wis."

[304] Here the chaplain recited two stanzas more, with a similitude:

"With canvas dyed in many a tint pavilions may be made:
The roof, a many-coloured dome: one colour is the shade.

"Even so, when men are purified, so is it here on earth:
The good perceive that they are saints, and never ask their birth."

Now Uddālaka could not say nay to this, and so he sat silent. Then the brahmin said to the king, "All these are knaves, O king, all India will come to ruin through knavery. Persuade Uddālaka to renounce his asceticism, and to be chaplain under me; let the rest leave their asceticism, give them shield and spear and make them your men." The king consented, and did so, and they all entered the service of the king.

When the Master had ended this discourse, he said, "This is not the first time, Brethren, that the man was a knave." Then he identified the Birth: "At that time the dishonest Brother was Uddālaka, Ānanda was the king, and I was the chaplain."


188:1 Translated and discussed in Fick, Sociale Gliederung zu Buddhas Zeit, p. 13 foll. Compare No. 377 (iii. 153 of this translation).

188:2 Cassia Fistula.

189:1 See Journ. P. T. S. 1884, p. 95. Fick translates "sollen sich wie Fledermäuse benehmen," and compares the "hen-saint" and "cow saint," Oldenberg's Buddha, p. 68.

189:2 As though they had remained so for years, after the manner of some modern fakeers.

189:3 One to each point of the compass, and the sun above.

189:4 The first four stanzas are repeated from iii. 236-7, in this translation iii. 155.

191:1 Compare above, p. 127, and note the order of the first two. Cf. iii. 194.

The Jataka, Vol. IV: No. 488.: Bhisa-Jātaka.

The Jataka, Vol. IV, tr. by W.H.D. Rouse, [1901], at

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No. 488.


"May horse and kine," etc. This story the Master told whilst dwelling in Jetavana, about a backsliding Brother. The circumstances will appear under the Kusa Birth 1. 3 5 Here again the Master asked—"Is it true, Brother, that you have backslidden?" "Yes, Sir, it is true." "For what cause?" "For sin's sake, Sir." "Brother why do you backslide, after embracing such a faith as this which leads to salvation; and all for sin's sake? In days of yore, before the Buddha arose, wise men who took to the religious life, even they who were outside the pale, made an oath, and renounced a suggested idea connected with temptations or desires!" So saying, he told a story of the past.

Once upon a time, when Brahmadatta was king in Benares, the Bodhisatta was born as the son of a great brahmin magnifico who owned a fortune of eighty crores of money. The name they gave him was my lord Mahā-Kañcana, the Greater Lord of Gold. At the time when he could but just go upon his feet, another son was born to the brahmin, and they called him my lord Upa-Kañcana, the Lesser Lord of Gold. Thus in succession seven sons came, and youngest of all came a daughter, whom they named Kañcana-devī, the Lady of Gold.

Mahā-Kañcana, when he grew up, studied at Takkasilā all the arts and sciences, and returned home. Then his parents desired to establish him in a household of his own. "We will fetch you," said they, "a girl from a family to be a fit match for you, and then you shall have your own household." But he said, "Mother and father, I want no household. To me the three kinds of existence 2 are terrible as fires, beset with chains like a prison-house, loathsome as a dunghill. Never have I known of the deed of kind, not so much as in a dream. You have other sons, bid them be heads of families and leave me alone." Though they begged him again and again, sent his friends to him and besought him by their lips, yet he would none of it. Then his friends asked him, "What do you wish, my good friend, that you care nothing for the enjoying of love and desire?" He told them how he had renounced all the world. When the parents understood this, they made the like proposal to the other sons, but none of them would hear of it; nor yet again did the Lady Kañcanā. By and bye the parents died. The wise Mahā-Kañcana did the obsequies for his parents; with the treasure of eighty crores he distributed

p. 193

alms munificently to beggars and wayfaring men; then taking with him his six brothers, his sister, a servant man and handmaiden, and one companion, 3 6 he made the great retirement and retired into the region of Himalaya. There in a delightsome spot near a lotus-lake they built them an hermitage, and lived a holy life eating of the fruits and roots of the forest. When they went into the forest, they went one by one, and if ever one of them saw a fruit or a leaf he would call the rest: there telling all they had seen and heard, they picked up what there was—it seemed like a village market. But the teacher, the ascetic Mahā-Kañcana, thought to himself: "We have cast aside a fortune of eighty crores and taken up the religious life, and to go about greedily seeking for wild fruits is not seemly. From henceforth I will bring the wild fruits by myself." Returning then to the hermitage, in the evening he gathered all together and told them his thought. "You remain here," said he, "and practise the life of the recluse, I will fetch fruit for you." Thereat Upa-Kañcana and all the rest broke in, "We have become religious under your wing, it is you should stay behind and practise the life of the recluse. Let our sister remain here also, and the maid be with her: we eight will take turns to fetch the fruit, but you three shall be free from taking a turn." He agreed. Thenceforward these eight took a turn to bring in fruit one at a time: the others each received his share of the find, and carried it off to his dwelling-place and remained in his own leaf-hut. Thus they could not be together without cause or reason. He whose turn it was would bring in the provender (there was one enclosure), and laying it on a flat stone would make eleven portions of it; then making the gong sound he would take his own portion and depart to his place of dwelling; the others coming up at the gong-sound, without hustling, but with all due ceremony and order, would take each his allotted portion of the find, then returning to his own place there would eat it, and resume his meditation and religious austerity. After a time they gathered lotus fibres and ate them, and there they abode, mortifying themselves with scorching heat and other kind of torments, their senses all dead, striving to induce the ecstatic trance.

By the glory of their virtue Sakka's throne trembled. "Are these released from desire only," said he, "or are they sages? 3 Are they sages? I will find out now." So by his supernatural power for three days he caused the Great Being's share to disappear. On the first day, seeing no share for him, he thought, "My share must have been forgotten." On the second day," There must be some fault in me: 1 he has not provided my share in the way of due respect." On the third, "Why can it be they provide no share for me? If there be fault in me I will make my peace." So at evening he sounded upon

p. 194

the gong. They all came together, and asked who had sounded the gong. "I did, my brothers." "Why, good master?" "My brothers, who brought in the food three days ago?" One uprose, and said, "I did," standing in all respect. "When you made the division did you set apart a share for me?" "Why yes, master, the share of the eldest." "And who brought food yesterday?" Another rose, and said, "I did," then stood respectfully waiting. "Did you remember me?" "I put by for you the share of the eldest." "To-day who brought the food?" Another arose, and stood respectfully waiting. "Did you remember me in making the division?" "I set aside the share of the eldest for you." Then he said, "Brothers, this is the third day I have had no share. The first day when I saw none, I thought, Doubtless he that made the division has forgotten my share. The second day, I thought there must be some fault in me. But to-day I made up my mind, that if fault there were, I would make my peace, and therefore I summoned you by the sound of this gong. You tell me you have put aside for me these portions of the lotus fibres: I have had none of them. I must find out who has stolen and eaten these. When one has forsaken the world and all the lusts thereof, theft is unseemly, be it no more than a lotus-stalk." When they heard these words, they cried out, 3 "Oh what a cruel deed!" and they were all much agitated.

Now the deity which dwelt in a tree by that hermitage, the chiefest tree of the forest, came out and sat down in their midst. There was likewise an elephant, which had been unable under his training to be impassible, and brake the stake he was bound to, and escaped into the woods: from time to time he used to come and salute the band of sages, and now he came also and stood on one side. A monkey also there was, that had been used to make sport with serpents, and had escaped out of the snake-charmer's hands into the forest: he dwelt in that hermitage, and that day he also greeted the band of ascetics, and stood on one side. Sakka, resolved to test the ascetics, was there also in a shape invisible beside them. At that moment the Bodhisatta's younger brother, the recluse Upa-Kañcana, arose from his seat, and saluting the Buddha, with a bow to the rest of the company, said as follows: "Master, setting aside the rest, may I clear myself from this charge?" "You may, brother." He, standing in the midst of the sages, said, "If I ate those fibres of yours, such and such am I," making a solemn oath in the words of the first stanza:

"May horse and kine be his, may silver, gold,
A loving wife, these may he precious hold,
May he have sons and daughters manifold,
    Brahmin, who stole thy share of food away 1."

p. 195

On this the ascetics put their hands over their ears, crying, "No, no, sir, that oath is very heavy!" And the Bodhisatta also said, "Brother, your oath is very heavy: you did not eat the food, sit down on your pallet." He having thus made his oath and sat down, up rose the second brother, and saluting the Great Being, recited the second stanza to clear himself:


"May he have sons and raiment at his will,
Garlands and sandal sweet his hands may fill,
His heart be fierce with lust and longing still,
    Brahmin, who stole thy share of food away."

When he sat down, the others each in his turn uttered his own stanza to express his feeling:

"May he have plenty, win both fame and land,
Sons, houses, treasures, all at his command,
The passing years may he not understand,
    Brahmin, who stole thy share of food away."

"As mighty warrior chief may he be known,
As king of kings set on a glorious throne,
The earth and its four corners all his own,
    Brahmin, who stole thy share of food away."

"Be he a brahmin, passion unsubdued,
With faith in stars and lucky days imbued,
Honoured with mighty monarchs' gratitude,
    Brahmin, who stole thy share of food away."

"A student in the Vedic lore deep-read,
Let all men reverence his holihead,
And of the people be he worshipped,
    Brahmin, who stole thy share of food away."

"By Indra's 1 gift a village may he hold,
Rich, choice, possest of all the goods fourfold 2,
And may he die with passions uncontrolled,
    Brahmin, who stole thy share of food away."

[310] "A village chief, his comrades all around,
His joy in dances and sweet music's sound;
May the king's favour unto him abound:
    Brahmin, who stole thy share of food away 3."

"May she be fairest of all womankind,
May the high monarch of the whole world find
Her chief among ten thousand to his mind,
    Brahmin, who stole thy share of food away 4."

"When all the serving handmaidens do meet,
May she all unabashed sit in her seat,
Proud of her gains, and may her food be sweet.
    Brahmin, who stole thy share of food away 5."

p. 196

"The great Kajañgal cloister be his care,
And may he set the ruins in repair,
And every day make a new window there,
Brahmin, who stole thy share of food away 1."

"Fast in six hundred bonds may he be caught,
From the dear forest to a city brought,
Smitten with goads and guiding-pikes, distraught,
    Brahmin, who stole thy share of food away 2."

"Garland on neck, tin earring in each ear,
Bound, let him walk the highway, much in fear,
And schooled with sticks to serpent kind 3 draw near,
    Brahmin, who stole thy share of food away."

[312] When oath had been taken in these thirteen stanzas, the Great Being thought, "Perhaps they imagine I am lying myself, and saying that the food was not there when it was." So he made oath on his part in the fourteenth stanza:

"Who swears the food was gone, if it was not,
    Let him enjoy desire and its effect,
May worldly death be at the last his lot.
    The same for you, sirs, if you now suspect."

When the sages had made their oath thus, Sakka thought to himself, "Fear nothing; I made these lotus fibres disappear in order to test these men, and they all make oath, loathing the deed as if it were a snot of spittle. Now I will ask them why they loathe lust and desire." This question he put by questioning the Bodhisatta in the next stanza, after having assumed a visible form:

"What in the world men go a-seeking here
That thing to many lovely is and dear,
Longed-for, delightful in this life: why, then,
Have saints no praise for things desired of men?"

By way of answer to this question, the Great Being recited two stanzas:

"Desires are deadly blows and chains to bind,
In these both misery and fear we find:
When tempted by desires imperial kings 4
Infatuate do vile and sinful things.

"These sinners bring forth sin, to hell they go
    At dissolution of this mortal frame.
1 3 Because the misery of lust they know 5
    Therefore saints praise not lust, but only blame."

p. 197

When Sakka had heard the Great Being's explanation, much moved in heart he repeated the following stanza:

"Myself to test these sages stole away
That food, which by the lake-side I did lay.
Sages they are indeed and pure and good.
O man of holy life, behold thy food!"

Hearing which the Bodhisatta recited a stanza:

"We are no tumblers, to make sport for thee,
No kinsmen nor no friends of thine are we.
Then why, O king divine, O thousand-eyed,
Thinkst thou the sages must thy sport provide?"

And Sakka recited the twentieth stanza, making his peace with him:

"Thou art my teacher, and my father thou,
From my offence let this protect me now.
Forgive me my one error, O wise sage!
They who are wise are never fierce in rage."

[314] Then the Great Being forgave Sakka, king of the gods, and on his own part to reconcile him with the company of sages recited another stanza:

"Happy for holy men one night has been,
When the Lord Vāsava by us was seen.
And, sirs, be happy all in heart to see
The food once stolen now restored to me."

Sakka saluted the company of sages, and returned to the world of gods. And they caused the mystic trance and the transcendent faculties to spring up within them, and became destined for Brahma's world.

When the Master had ended this discourse, he said, "Thus, Brethren, wise men of old made an oath and renounced sin." This said, he declared the Truths. At the conclusion of the Truths, the backsliding brother was established in the fruit of the First Path. Identifying the Birth, he recited three stanzas:

"Sāriputta, Moggallāna, Puṇṇa, Kassapa, and I,
Anuruddha and Ānanda then the seven brothers were.

"Uppalavaṇṇā was the sister, and Khujjuttarā the maid,
Sātāgira was the spirit, Citta householder the slave,

"The elephant was Pārileyya, Madhuvāseṭṭha was the ape,
Kāḷudāyi then was Sakka. Now you understand the Birth."


192:1 No. 531: vol. v. p. 279 (Pali).

192:2 Of sense, of body, without body or form (in the kāma-, rūpa-, arūpa-loka).

193:1 Or "it is to remind me respectfully of this that he provides no share for me."

194:1 The meaning is, that a man whose heart is set on these things feels pain to part with them, and is hence unfit to die from a Buddhist point of view. The verse is therefore a curse.

195:1 Vāsava.

195:2 The scholiast explains this as: populous, rich in grain, in wood, in water. This verse is said by the friendly ascetic.

195:3 Spoken by the slave man.

195:4 Spoken by Kañcanā.

195:5 Spoken by the slave girl.

196:1 Spoken by the tree-spirit. Kajañgala, the scholiast informs us, was a town where materials were hard to be got. There in Buddha Kassapa's time a god had a hard job of it repairing the ruins of an old monastery.

196:2 Spoken by the elephant.

196:3 The monkey says this: his task was to play with a snake. See above.

196:4 Lords of Beings, "an allusion to Sakka" (schol.).

196:5 Sutta Nipāta, 50.

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No. 489.


"I am," etc. This story the Master told while dwelling hard by Sāvatthi in the mansion of Migāra's mother 1, how she, Visākhā the great lay Sister, received Eight Boons. One day she had heard the Law preached in Jetavana, and returned home after inviting the Buddha with his followers for the next day. But late in that night a mighty tempest deluged the four continents of the world. 1 3 5 The Blessed One addressed the Brethren as follows. "As the rain falls in Jetavana, so, Brethren, falls the rain in the four continents of the world. Let yourselves be drenched to the skin: this is my last great world-storm!" So with the Brethren, whose bodies were already drenched, by his supernatural power he disappeared from Jetavana, and appeared in a room of Visākhā's mansion. She cried, "A marvel indeed! a thing mysterious! O the miracle done by the power of the Tathāgata! With floods running knee deep, aye, with floods running waist-deep, not so much as the foot or the robe of a single Brother will be wet!" In joy and delight she waited upon the Buddha and all his company. After the meal was done, she said to the Buddha, "Verily I crave boons at the hands of the Blessed One." "Visākhā, the Tathāgatas have boons beyond measure 2." "But such as are permitted, such as are blameless?" "Speak on, Visākhā." "I crave that all my life long I may have the right to give to the Brethren clokes for the rainy season, food to all that come as guests, food to travelling priests, food to the sick, food to those who wait on the sick, medicine to the sick, a continual distribution of rice gruel; and to the Sisters all my life long robes for bathing in." The Master replied, "What blessing have you in view, Visākhā, when you ask these eight boons of the Tathāgata?" She told him the benefit she hoped for, and he said, "It is well, it is well, Visākhā, it is well indeed, Visākhā, that this is the benefit you hope for in asking the eight boons of the Tathāgata." Then he said, "I grant you the eight boons, Visākhā." Having granted her the eight boons and thanked her he departed.

One day when the Master was dwelling in the Eastern park, they began to talk of it in the Hall of Truth: "Brother, Visākhā the great lay Sister, notwithstanding her womanhood, received eight boons at the Dasabala's hands. Ah, great are her virtues!" The Master came in and asked what they spoke of. They told him. Said he, "It is not now the first time this woman has received boons from me, for she received such before"; and he told them a story of the past.

Once upon a time, there reigned a king Suruci in Mithilā. This king, having a son born to him, gave him the name of Suruci-Kumāra, or Prince Splendid. When he grew up, he determined to study at Takkasilā; so thither he went, and sat down in a hall at the city gate. 1 3 6 Now the

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son of the king of Benares also, whose name was Prince Brahmadatta, went to the same place, and took his seat on the same bench where Prince Suruci sat. They entered into converse together, and became friends, and went both together to the teacher. They paid the fee, and studied, and ere long their education was complete. Then they took leave of their teacher, and went on their road together. After travelling thus a short distance, they came to a stop at a place where the road parted. Then they embraced, and in order to keep their friendship alive they made a compact together: "If I have a son and you a daughter, or if you have a son and I a daughter, we will make a match of it between them."

When they were on the throne, a son was born to king Suruci, and to him also the name of Prince Suruci was given. Brahmadatta had a daughter, and her name was Sumedhā, the Wise Lady. Prince Suruci in due time grew up, went to Takkasilā for his education, and that finished returned. Then his father, wishing to mark out his son for king by the ceremonial sprinkling, thought to himself, "My friend the king of Benares has a daughter, so they say: I will make her my son's consort." For this purpose he sent an ambassade with rich gifts.

But before they had yet come, the king of Benares asked his queen this question: "Lady, what is the worst misery for a woman?" "To quarrel with her fellow-wives." "Then, my lady, to save our only daughter the Princess Sumedhā from this misery, we will give her to none but him that will have her and no other." So when the ambassadors came, and named the name of his daughter, he told them, "Good friends, indeed it is true I promised my daughter to my old friend long ago. But we have no wish to cast her into the midst of a crowd of women, and we will give her only to one who will wed her and no other." This message they brought back to the king. But the king was displeased. "Ours is a great kingdom," said he, "the city of Mithilā covers seven leagues, the measure of the whole kingdom is three hundred leagues. Such a king should have sixteen thousand women at the least." But Prince Suruci, hearing the great beauty of Sumedhā, 1 3 fell in love from hearing of it only. So he sent word to his parents, saying, "I will take her and no other: what do I want with a multitude of women? Let her be brought." They did not thwart his desire, but sent a rich present and a great ambassade to bring her home. Then she was made his queen consort, and they were both together consecrated by sprinkling.

He became king Suruci, and ruling in justice lived a life of high happiness with his queen. But although she dwelt in his palace for ten thousand years, never son nor daughter she had of him.

Then all the townsfolk gathered together in the palace courtyard, with upbraidings. "What is it?" the king asked. "Fault we have no other to find," said they, "but this, that you have no son to keep up your line.

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[paragraph continues] You have but one queen, yet a royal prince should have sixteen thousand at the least. Choose a company of women, my lord: some worthy wife will bring you a son." "Dear friends, what is this you say? I passed my word I would take no other but one, and on those terms I got her. I cannot lie, no host of women for me." So he refused their request, and they departed. But Sumedhā heard what was said. "The king refuses to choose him concubines for his truth's sake," thought she; "well, I will find him some one." Playing the part of mother and wife to the king, she chose at her own will a thousand maidens of the warrior caste, a thousand of the courtiers, a thousand daughters of householders, a thousand of all kinds of dancing girls, four thousand in all, and delivered them to him. And all these dwelt in the palace for ten thousand years, and never a son or daughter they brought between them. In this way she three times brought four thousand maidens but they had neither son nor daughter. Thus she brought him sixteen thousand wives in all. Forty thousand years went by, that is to say, fifty thousand in all, counting the ten thousand he had lived with her alone. Then the townsfolk again gathered together with reproaches. "What is it now?" the king asked. 1 3 "My lord, command your women to pray for a son." The king was not unwilling, and commanded so to pray. Thenceforward praying for a son, they worship all manner of deities and offer all kinds of vows; yet no son appeared. Then the king commanded Sumedhā to pray for a son. She consented. On the fast of the fifteenth day of the month, she took upon her the eightfold sabbath vows 1, and sat meditating upon the virtues in a magnificent room upon a pleasant couch. The others were in the park, vowing to do sacrifice with goats or kine. By the glory of Sumedhā's virtue Sakka's dwelling place began to tremble. Sakka pondered, and understood that Sumedhā prayed for a son; well, she should have one. "But I cannot give her this or that son indifferently; I will search for one which shall be suitable." Then he saw a young god called Naḷākara, the Basket-weaver. He was a being endowed with merit, who in a former life lived in Benares, when this befel him. At seed-time as he was on his way to the fields he perceived a Pacceka Buddha. He sent on his hinds, bidding them sow the seed, but himself turned back, and led the Pacceka Buddha home, and gave him to eat, and then conducted him again to the Ganges bank. He and his son together made a hut, trunks of fig-trees for the foundation and reeds interwoven for the walls; a door he put to it, and made a path for walking. There for three months he made the Pacceka Buddha dwell; and after the rains were over, the two of them, father and son, put on him the three robes and let him go. In the same manner they entertained seven Pacceka Buddhas in that hut, and

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gave them the three robes, and let them go their ways. So men still tell how these two, father and son, turned basket-weavers, and hunted for osiers on the banks of the Ganges, and whenever they spied a Pacceka Buddha did as we have said. When they died, they were born in the heaven of the Thirty-Three, and dwelt in the six heavens of sense one after the other in direct and in reverse succession, enjoying great majesty among the gods. These two after dying. in that region were desirous of winning to the upper god-world. Sakka perceiving that one of them would be the Tathāgata, 1 3 went to the door of their mansion, and saluting him as he arose and came to meet him, said, "Sir, you must go into the world of men." But he said, "O king, the world of men is hateful and loathsome: they who dwell there do good and give alms longing for the world of the gods. What shall I do when I get there?" "Sir, you shall enjoy in perfection all that can be enjoyed in that world; you shall dwell in a palace made with stones of price, five and twenty leagues in height. Do consent." He consented. When Sakka had received his promise, in the guise of a sage he descended into the king's park, and showed himself soaring above those women to and fro in the air, while he chanted, "To whom shall I give the blessing of a son, who craves the blessing of a son?" "To me, Sir, to me!" thousands of hands were uplifted. Then he said, "I give sons to the virtuous: what is your virtue, what your life and conversation?" They drew down their uplifted hands, saying, "If you would reward virtue, go seek Sumedhā." He went his ways through the air, and stayed at the window of her bedchamber. Then they went and told her, saying, "See, my lady, a king of the gods has come down through the air, and stands at your bedchamber window, offering you the boon of a son!" With great pomp she proceeded thither, and opening the window, said, "Is this true, Sir, that I hear, how you offer the blessing of a son to a virtuous woman?" "It is, and so I do." "Then grant it to me." "What is your virtue, tell me; and if you please me, I grant you the boon." Then declaring her virtue she recited these fifteen stanzas.

"I am king Ruci's consort-queen, the first he ever wed;
With Suruci ten thousand years my wedded life I led.

"Suruci king of Mithilā, Videha's chiefest place,
I never lightly held his wish, nor deemed him mean or base,
In deed or thought or word, behind his back, nor to his face.

[320] "If this be true, O holy one, so may that son be given:
But if my lips are speaking lies, then burst my head in seven.

"The parents of my husband dear, so long as they held sway,
And while they lived, would ever give me training in the Way.

"My passion was to hurt no life, and willingly do right:
I served them with extremest care unwearied day and night.

"If this be true, etc.

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"No less than sixteen thousand dames my fellow-wives have been:
Yet, brahmin, never jealousy nor anger came between.

"At their good fortune I rejoice; each one of them is dear;
My heart is soft to all these wives as though myself it were.

"If this be true, etc.

"Slaves, messengers, and servants all, and all about the place,
I give them food, I treat them well, with cheerful pleasant face.

"If this be true, etc.

"Ascetics, brahmins, any man who begging here is seen,
I comfort all with food and drink, my hands all washen clean.

"If this be true, etc.

"The eighth of either fortnight, the fourteenth, fifteenth days,
And the especial fast I keep, I walk in holy ways 1.

"If this be true, O holy one, so may that son be given:
But if my lips are speaking lies, then burst my head in seven."

[321] Indeed not a hundred verses, nor a thousand, could suffice to sing the praise of her virtues: yet Sakka allowed her to sing her own praises in these fifteen stanzas, nor did he cut the tale short though he had much to do elsewhere; then he said "Abundant and marvellous are your virtues"; then in her praise he recited a couple of stanzas:

"All these great virtues, glorious dame, O daughter of a king,
Are found in thee, which of thyself, O lady, thou dost sing.

"A warrior, born of noble blood, all glorious and wise,
Videha's righteous emperor, thy son, shall soon arise."

When these words she heard, in great joy she recited two stanzas, putting a question to him:


"Unkempt, with dust and dirt begrimed, high-poiséd in the sky,
Thou speakest in a lovely voice that pricks me to the heart.

"Art thou a mighty god, O sage and dwellst in heaven on high?
O tell me whence thou comest here, O tell me who thou art!"

He told her in six stanzas:

"Sakka the Hundred-eyed thou seest, for so the gods me call
When they are wont to assemble in the heavenly judgement hall.

"When women virtuous, wise, and good here in the world are found,
True wives, to husband's mother kind even as in duty bound 2,

"When such a woman wise of heart and good in deed they know,
To her, though woman, they divine, the gods themselves will go.

"So lady, thou, through worthy life, through store of good deeds done,
A princess born, all happiness the heart can wish, hast won.

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"So thou dost reap thy deeds, princess, by glory on the earth,
And after in the world of gods a new and heavenly birth.

"O wise, O blessed! so live on, preserve thy conduct right:
Now I to heaven must return, delighted with thy sight."

[323]"I have business to do in the world of gods," quoth he, "therefore I go; but do thou be vigilant." With this advice he departed.

In the morning time, the god Naḷakāra was conceived within her womb. When she discovered it, she told the king, and he did what was necessary for a woman with child 1. At the end of ten months she brought forth a son, and they gave him Mahā-panāda to his name. All the people of the two countries came crying out, "My lord, we bring this for the boy's milk-money," and each dropt a coin in the king's courtyard: a great heap there was of them. The king did not wish to accept this, but they would not take the money back, but said as they departed, "When the boy grows up, my lord, it will pay for his keep."

The lad was brought up amid great magnificence; and when he came of years, aye, no more than sixteen, he was perfect in all accomplishments. The king thinking of his son's age, said to the queen, "My lady, when the time comes for the ceremonial sprinkling of our son, let us make him a fine palace for that occasion." She was quite willing. The king sent for those who had skill in divining the lucky place for a building 2, and said to them: "My friends, get a master-mason 3, and build me a palace not far from my own. This is for my son, whom we are about to consecrate as my successor." They said it was well, and proceeded to examine the surface of the ground. At that moment Sakka's throne became hot. Perceiving this, he at once summoned Vissakamma 4, and said, "Go, my good Vissakamma, make for Prince Mahā-panāda a palace half a league in length and breadth and five and twenty leagues in height, all with stones of price." Vissakamma took on the shape of a mason, and approaching the workmen said, "Go and eat your breakfast, then return." Having thus got rid of the men, he struck on the earth with his staff; in that instant up rose a palace, seven storeys high, of the aforesaid size. Now for Mahā-panāda these three ceremonies were done together: the ceremony for consecrating the palace, the ceremony for spreading above him the royal umbrella, the ceremony of his marriage. At the time of the ceremony all the people of both countries gathered together, and spent seven years a-feasting, nor did the king dismiss them: their clothes, their ornaments, their food and their drink 2 3 4 and all the rest of it, these things were

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all provided by the royal family. At the seven years' end they began to grumble, and king Suruci asked why. "O king," they said, "while we have been revelling at this feast seven years have gone by. When will the feast come to an end?" He answered, "My good friends, all this while my son has never once laughed. So soon as he shall laugh, we will disperse again." Then the crowd went beating the drum and gathered the tumblers and jugglers together. Thousands of tumblers were gathered, and they divided themselves into seven bands and danced; but they could not make the prince laugh. Of course he that had seen the dancing of dancers divine could not care for such dancers as these. Then came two clever jugglers, Bhaṇḍu-kaṇṇa and Paṇḍu-kaṇṇa, Crop-ear and Yellow-ear, and say they, "We will make the prince laugh." Bhaṇḍu-kaṇṇa made a great mango tree, which he called Sanspareil, grow before the palace door: then he threw up a ball of string, and made it catch on a branch of the tree, and then up he climbed into the Mango Sanspareil. Now the Mango Sanspareil they say is Vessavaṇa's mango 1. And the slaves of Vessavaṇa took him, as usual, chopt him up limb-meal and threw down the bits. The other jugglers joined the pieces together, and poured water upon them. The man donned upper and under garments of flowers, and rose up and began dancing again. Even the sight of this did not make the prince laugh. Then Paṇḍu-kaṇṇa had some fire-wood piled in the court-yard and went into the fire with his troop. When the fire was burnt out, the people sprinkled the pile with water. Paṇḍu-kaṇṇa with his troop rose up dancing with upper and under 2 garments of flowers. When the people found they could not make him laugh, they grew angry. Sakka, perceiving this, sent down a divine dancer, bidding him make prince Mahā-panāda laugh. Then he came and remained poised in the air above the royal courtyard, 2 3 5 and performed what is called the Half-body dance: one hand, one foot, one eye, one tooth, go a-dancing, throbbing, flickering to and fro, all the rest stone still. Mahā-panāda, when he saw this, gave a little smile. But the crowd roared and roared with laughter, could not cease laughing, laughed themselves out of their wits, lost control of their limbs, rolled over and over in the royal courtyard. That was the end of the festival. The rest of it—

Great Panāda, mighty king,
With his palace all of gold,

must be explained in the Mahā-panāda Birth 4.

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King Mahā-panāda did good and gave alms, and at his life's end went to the world of gods 1.

When the Master had ended this discourse, he said, "Thus, brethren, Visākhā has received a boon of me before," and then he identified the Birth: "At that time, Bhaddaji was Mahā-panāda, Visākhā the Lady Sumedhā, Ānanda was Vissakamma, and I myself was Sakka."


198:1 Her real name was Visākhā; she was the most distinguished among the female disciples of Buddha. See her history in Hardy's Manual, 220; Warren, § 101. The reason for her title is given in Warren, Buddhism in Translations, p. 470, from the Dhammapada, p. 245. See the story in Mahāvagga, viii. 15.

198:2 Or "are above granting boons (before they know what they are)": so Rhys Davids and Oldenberg in Mahāvagga, i. 54. 4, viii. 15. 6.

200:1 The eight sīlāni: against taking life, theft, impurity, lying, intoxicating liquors, eating at forbidden hours, worldly amusements, unguents and ornaments.

202:1 For the exact meaning of pāṭihāriyapakkho see Childers, p. 618.

202:2 sassudevā-patibbatā. Sassudevā should be a separate word.

203:1 See p. 79, p. 23 note 1, vol. ii. p. 1 note 4. There was a ceremony called garbharakṣaṇa which protected against abortion (Bühler, Ritual-Litteratur, in Grundriss der indo-iran. Philologie, p. 43).

203:2 Compare ii. 297 (p. 208 of this translation)

203:3 Like rerzrwv, a carpenter or mason.

203:4 The celestial architect.

204:1 See No. 281 (transl. vol. ii. p. 271). The juggling trick here described is spoken of by mediaeval travellers. See Yule's Marco Polo, vol. i. p. 308 (ed. 2).

204:2 na is a misprint for ca.

204:3 These words are the beginning of the stanzas in No. 264 (transl. ii. p. 231). Cp. Thera-gāthā, p. 22.

204:4 No. 264 (transl. vol. ii. p. 229).

The Jataka, Vol. IV: No. 490.: Pañc-Ūposatha-Jātaka.

The Jataka, Vol. IV, tr. by W.H.D. Rouse, [1901], at

No. 490.


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

Once upon a time there was a great forest which separated the kingdom of Magadha from the two kingdoms that marched with it. The Bodhisatta was born in Magadha, as one of a great brahmin family. When he grew up, he renounced his desires, and departed, and went into that forest, where he made him an hermitage and dwelt there. Now not very far from this hermitage, in a clump made of bamboos, 2 3 6 lived a Wood-pigeon with his mate; in a certain ant-hill lived a Snake; in one thicket a Jackal had his lair, in another a Bear. These four creatures used to visit the sage from time to time, and listened to his discourse.

One day the Pigeon and his mate left their nest and went a-foraging for food. The hen went behind, and as she went, a Hawk pounced on her

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and carried her off. Hearing her outcry the cock turned and looked, and beheld him bearing her away! The Hawk killed her in the midst of her cries, and devoured her. Now burned the cock-bird with the fire of love for his mate thus torn from him. Then thought he, "This passion torments me exceedingly; I will not go seek my food until I have found how to subdue it." So cutting short his quest, away he went to the ascetic, and taking upon him the vow for the subduing of desire, he lay down on one side.

The Snake also thought he would seek for food; so out of his hole came he, and sought something to eat on a cow-track near one of the frontier villages. Just then there was a bull belonging to the village headman, a glorious creature white all over, which after feeding went down on his knees at the foot of a certain ant-hill, and tossed the earth with his horns in sport. The Snake was terrified at the noise of the bull's hooves, and darted forward to hide in the ant-hill. The bull happened to tread on him, whereupon the Snake was angry and bit the bull; and the bull died then and there. When the villagers found out that the bull was dead, they all ran together weeping, and honoured the dead with garlands, and buried him in a grave, and returned to their homes. The Snake came forth when they had departed, and thought, "Through anger I have deprived this creature of life, and I have caused sorrow to the hearts of many. Never again will I go out to get food until I have learnt to subdue it." Then he turned and went to the hermitage, and taking upon him the vow for the subduing of anger, lay down on one side.

The Jackal likewise went to seek food, and found a dead elephant 1. He was delighted: "Plenty of food here!" cried he, and went and took a bite of the trunk—it was as though he bit on a tree-trunk. He got no pleasure of that, and bit by the tusk—he might have been biting a stone. He tried the belly—it might have been a basket. So he fell on to the tail, 2 3 it was like an iron bowl. Then he attacked the rump, and lo! it was soft as a cake of ghee. He liked it so well that he ate his way inside. There he remained, eating when he was hungry, and when he was athirst drinking the blood; and when he lay down, spreading the beast's inwards and lungs as a bed to lie on. "Here," thought he, "I have found me both food and drink, and my bed; what is the use of going elsewhere?" So there he stayed, well content, in the elephant's belly, and never came out at all. But by and bye the corpse grew dry in the wind and the heat, and the way out by the rear was closed. The Jackal tormented within lost flesh and blood, his body turned yellow, but how to get out he could not see. Then one day came an unexpected storm; the duct was drenched and grew soft, and began to gape open. When he saw the chink, the Jackal cried, "Too long have I been here in torment, and now I will out

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by this hole." Then he went at the place head first. Now the passage was narrow, and he went fast, so his body was bruised and he left all his hair behind him. When he got out he was bare as a palm-trunk, not a hair to be seen on him. "Ah," thought he, "it is my greed has brought all this trouble upon me. Never again will I go out to feed, until I have learnt how to subdue my greed." Then he went to the hermitage, and took on him the vow for subduing of greed, and lay down on one side.

The Bear too came out of the forest, and being a slave to greediness, went to a frontier village of the kingdom of Mala. "Here is a bear!" cried the villagers all; and out they came armed with bows, sticks, staves, and what not, and surrounded the thicket wherein he lay. He finding himself encompassed with a crowd, rushed out and made away, and as he went they belaboured him with their bows and cudgels. He came home with a broken head and running with blood. "Ah," thought he, "it is my exceeding greed which has brought all this trouble upon me. Never again will I go out for food until I have learnt how to subdue it." So he went to the hermitage, and took on him the vow for subduing of greediness, and lay down on one side. [328]

But the ascetic was unable to induce the mystic ecstasy, because he was full of pride for his noble birth. A Pacceka Buddha, perceiving that he was possessed with pride, yet recognised that he was no common creature. "The man (thought he) is destined to be a Buddha, and in this very cycle he will attain to perfect wisdom. I will help him to subdue his pride, and I will cause him to develop the Attainments." So as he sat in his hut of leaves, the Pacceka Buddha came down from the Higher Himalaya, and seated himself on the ascetic's slab of stone. The ascetic came out and saw him upon his own seat, and in his pride was no longer master of himself. He went up and snapt fingers at him, crying out, "Curse you, vile good-for-naught, bald-pate hypocrite, why are you sitting on my seat?" "Holy man," said the other, "why are you possessed with pride? I have penetrated the wisdom of a Pacceka Buddha, and I tell you that during this very cycle you shall become omniscient; you are destined to become a Buddha! When you have fulfilled the Perfect Virtues 1, after the lapse of another such period of time, a Buddha you shall be; and when you have become a Buddha, Siddhattha will be your name." Then he told him of name and clan and family, chief disciples, and so forth, adding, "Now why are you so proud and passionate? The thing is unworthy of you." Such was the advice of the Pacceka Buddha. To these words the other said nothing: no salutation even, no question as to when or where or how he should become a Buddha. Then the visitor

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said, "Learn the measure of your birth and my powers 1 by this: if you can, rise up in the air as I do." So saying, he arose in the air, and shook off the dust of his feet upon the coil of hair which the other wore on his head, and then returned back to the Higher Himalaya. At his departure the ascetic was overcome with grief. "There is a holy man," said he, "with a heavy body like that, passes through the air like a cotton-fleck blown by the wind! Such a one, a Pacceka Buddha, and I never kissed his feet, because of my pride of birth, never asked him when I should become Buddha. What can this birth do for me? In this world the thing of power is a good life; 2 3 but this pride of mine will bring me to hell. Never again will I go out to seek for wild fruits until I have learned bow to subdue my pride." Then he entered his leaf-hut, and took upon him the vow for subduing pride. Seated upon his pallet of twigs, the wise young noble subdued his pride, induced the mystical trance, developed the Faculties and the Attainments, then came forth and sat down on the stone seat which was at the end of the covered walk.

Then the Pigeon and the others came up, saluted him and sat on one side. The Great Being said to the Pigeon, "On other days you never come here at this time, but you go seeking food: are you keeping a sabbath fast to-day?" "Yes, Sir, I am." Then he said, "Why so?" reciting the first stanza:

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

To which the Pigeon made answer in two stanzas:

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

"In various ways my cruel loss I know;
    I feel a pang in everything I see;
Therefore to sabbath vows for help I go,
    That passion never may come back to me."

[330] When the Pigeon had thus praised his own action with regard to the vows, the Great Being put the same question to the Snake and all the rest one by one. They declared each one the thing as it was.

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

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

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

"Carrion to thee is food both rich and rare,
    Corpses on charnel-ground that rotting lie.
Why doth a Jackal thirst and hunger bear?
    Why take the sabbath vows upon him, why?"

"I found an elephant, and liked the meat
    So well, within his belly I did stay.
But the hot wind and the sun's parching heat
    Dried up the passage where I pushed my way.

"All thin and yellow I became, my lord!
    There was no path to go by, I must stay.
Then came a storm that vehemently poured,
    Damping and softening that postern way.

"Then to get out again not slow was I,
    Like the Moon issuing from Rāhu's jaws 1:
1 3 Therefore to sabbath vows for help I fly
    That greed may keep far from me: there's the cause."

"It was thy manner once to make a meal
    Of ants upon the ant-heap, Master Bear:
Why willing now hunger and thirst to feel?
    Why willing now the sabbath vow to swear?"

"From greed exceeding scorned I my own home,
    To Malatā I made all haste to flee.
Out from the village all the folk did come,
    With bows and bludgeons they belaboured me.

"With blood besmeared and with a broken head
    Back to my dwelling I made haste to flee.
Therefore to sabbath vows I now have fled
    That greed may never more come nigh to me."

Thus did they all four praise their own deed in taking of these vows upon them; then rising up and saluting the Great Being, they asked him this question, "Sir, on other days you go out at this time to seek for wild fruits. Why is it to-day you go not, but observe the sabbath vows?" They recited this stanza:

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

[332] He explained it to them:

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

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

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

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


205:1 This story shows a new phase of the episode of the Man or Woman who cannot be made to laugh. Closely allied to it are those tales where someone cannot shiver or cannot fear (e.g. Grimm, no. 4).

205:2 Brethren, Sisters, Lay Brethren, Lay Sisters.

205:3 See Introd. Story to no. 148.

206:1 Compare no. 148, i. 502 (transl. i. 315).

207:1 These are ten, which are preliminary to attaining the state of a Buddha. See Childers, p. 335 a for list.

208:1 i.e. that your birth is nothing to my powers.

209:1 A monster who was supposed to swallow the moon in eclipse.

The Jataka, Vol. IV: No. 491.: Mahā-Mora-Jātaka.

The Jataka, Vol. IV, tr. by W.H.D. Rouse, [1901], at

No. 491.


"If I being captured," etc. This story the Master told while dwelling in Jetavana, about a backsliding Brother. To this Brother the Master said, 3 "Is it true, as I am told, that you have backslidden?" "Yes, Sir, it is true." "Brother," said he, "will not this lust for pleasure confound a man like you? The hurricane that overwhelms Mount Sineru is not put to the blush before a withered leaf. In days of yore this passion has confounded holy beings, who for seven thousand years held aloof from following the lusts that arise within." With these words, he told a story of the past.

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

One day, as he was drinking water out of a pool, he espied his own beauty, and thought, "I am fairest of all peacocks. If I remain with

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them among the paths of men, I shall fall into some danger: I will go away to Himalaya, and there dwell alone in a pleasant place." So in the night time, when all the peafowl were in their secret retreats, unknown to any he departed to Himalaya, and traversing three ranges of mountains settled in the fourth. This was in a forest where he found a vast natural lake all covered with lotus, and not far away a huge banyan tree hard by a hill; in the branches of this tree he alighted. In the heart of this hill was a delightsome cave; and being desirous to dwell there, he alighted on a flatland just at the mouth of it. Now to this place it was impossible to climb, whether up from below or down from above; 3 4 free it was from all fear of birds, wildcats, serpents, or men. "Here is a delightful place for me!" he thought. That day he remained there, and on the next coming forth from the cave he sat on the hill-top facing the east. When he saw the sun's globe arise, he protected himself for the coming day by reciting the verse "There he rises, king all-seeing 1." After this he went out seeking for food. In the evening he returned again, and sat on the top of the hill facing the west; then, when he saw the sun's globe sinking out of sight, he protected himself against the coming night by reciting the verse "There he sets, the king all-seeing 2." In this manner his life was passed.

But one day a hunter who lived in the forest caught sight of him as he sat on the hill-top, and went home again. When his time came to die, he told his son of it: "My son, in the fourth range of the mountains, in the forest, lives a golden peacock. If the king wants one you know where to find him."

One day the chief queen of the king of Benares (her name was Khemā) saw a vision in the dawning, and the vision was after this fashion: a golden peacock was preaching the Law, she was listening with approval, the peacock having finished his discourse arose to depart, she cried out upon it "The king of the peacocks is escaping, catch him!" And as she was uttering these words, she awoke. When she awoke, and perceived that it was a dream, she thought, "If I tell the king it was a dream, he will take no notice of it; but if I say it is the longing of a woman with child, then he will take notice." So she made as though she had a craving as they who are with child, and lay down. The king visited her and asked what was her ailment. "I have a craving," said she. "What is it you desire?" "I wish, my lord, to hear the discourse of a golden-hued peacock." "But where can we get such a peacock, lady?" "If one cannot be found, my lord, I shall die." "Do not trouble about it, my lady; if there exist such a one anywhere, it shall

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be got for you." Thus he consoled her, and then went away and sitting down asked his courtiers the question: "Look you, my queen desires to hear the discourse of a golden peacock. 3 5 Are there such things as golden peacocks?" "The brahmins will know that, my lord." The king enquired of the brahmins. Thus the brahmins made answer: "O great king! It is said in our verses of lucky marks, Of water-beasts fish, tortoises, and crabs, of land-beasts deer, wild-geese, peacocks, and partridges, these creatures and men too can be of a golden colour." Then the king gathered together all the hunters that were in his domains, and asked them, had they ever before seen a golden peacock. They all answered, no, except the one whose father had told him what he had seen. This one said, "I have never seen one myself, but my father told me of a place where a golden peacock is to be found." Then the king said, "My good man, this means life and death to me and my queen: catch him and bring him hither." He gave the man plenty of money and sent him off. The man gave the money to his wife and son, and went to the place, and saw the Great Being. He set snares for him, each day telling himself the creature would certainly be caught; yet he died without catching him. And the queen too died without having her heart's desire. The king was very angry and wroth, for he said, "My beloved queen has died on account of this peacock"; and he caused the story to be written upon a golden plate, how that in the fourth range of Himalaya lives a golden peacock, and they who eat his flesh will be ever young and immortal. This plate he placed in his treasury, and afterwards died. After him another king rose up, who read what was written upon the plate, and being desirous to be immortal and ever young, sent a hunter to catch him; but he died first like the other. In this manner six kings succeeded and passed away, six hunters died unsuccessful in Himalaya. But the seventh hunter, sent by the seventh king, being unable to catch the bird through seven years, although each day he expected to do it, began to wonder, why there was no catching this peacock's feet in a snare. So he watched the bird, and saw him at his prayers for protection morning and evening, and thus he argued the case: "There is no other peacock in the place, and it is clear this must be a bird of holy life. 3 6 It is the power of his holiness, and of the protecting charm, which makes his feet never to catch in my snare." Having come to this conclusion, he went to the borderland and caught a peahen, which he trained at finger-snap to utter her note, at clap of hand to dance. Taking her with him, he returned; then setting his snare before the Bodhisatta had recited his charm, he snapt his fingers, and made her utter a cry. The peacock heard it: on the instant, the sin which for seven thousand years had lain quiescent, reared itself up like a cobra spreading his hood at a blow. Being sick with lust, he could not recite his protecting charm, but making all haste towards her, he came

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

Now the peacock was thinking, "This hunter has made me sick with lust, and when he sees me caught he will not be careless of me. Where can he be?" He looked this way, and he looked that way, and spied the man standing with bow ready to shoot. 3 "No doubt he wants to kill me and go," thought he, and in fear of death repeated the first stanza asking for his life:

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

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

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

To this the peacock replied in two stanzas:

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

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

[338] Then this follows:

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

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

"There are no gods, so many men do say:
    The highest bliss this life alone can bring;
This yields the fruit of good or evil way;
    And giving is declared a foolish thing.
So I snare birds, for holy men have said it:
Do not their words, I ask, deserve my credit?"

Then the Great Being determined to tell the man the reality of another world; and as he swung at the end of the rod head-downwards, he repeated a stanza:

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

[339] The hunter repeated a stanza:

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

Then the Great Being said to him:

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

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

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

"How shall I act, what do, what holy way
    Am I to follow, peacock king, O tell!
What manner of ascetic virtue—say,
    That I be saved from sinking into hell!"

[340] The Great Being thought, when he heard this, "If I solve this problem for him, the world will seem all empty and vain. I will tell him for this time the nature of upright and holy ascetic brahmins." With this intent he repeated two stanzas:

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


210:1 Printed by Fausbøll, Ten Jatakas, p. 111. Compare Mora Jātaka, no. 159 (ii. 33, transl. p. 23).

210:2 Pterospermum Acerifolium.

211:1 The first line of a hymn given in the first Peacock Birth (ii. 33, transl. p. 23).

211:2 Vol. ii. p. 35 (transl. p. 24).

214:1 This was strictly forbidden to the Brethren.

215:1 Impermanence, suffering, unreality.

215:2 That is, on the point of entering Nirvana.

215:3 Bowl, three robes, girdle, razor, needle, water-strainer.

The Jataka, Vol. IV: No. 492.: Taccha-Sūkara-Jātaka.

The Jataka, Vol. IV, tr. by W.H.D. Rouse, [1901], at

No. 492.


"I wandered, searching far," etc.—This story the Master told while dwelling at Jetavana, about two ancient Elders.

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

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in a lobster-pot. That is the way to catch him." Now all this the messengers heard; and then went back and told the king. He immediately set out with a great host, and took Ajātasattu prisoner, and bound him in chains. After punishing him thus for some days, he released him, advising him not to do it again, and by way of consolation gave him his own daughter, the Princess Vajirā, in marriage, and finally dismissed him with great pomp.

There was much gossip about it among the Brethren indoors: "Ajātasattu was caught by the King of Kosala, through following the directions of Elder Dhanuggaha-tissa!" They talked of the same in the Hall of Truth, and the Master entering, asked them what the talk was. They told him. Then he said, "This is not the first time, Brethren, that Dhanuggaha-tissa has shown himself expert in strategy." And he told them a story of the past.

[344] Once upon a time, a carpenter, who dwelt in a village hard by the city gate of Benares, went into the forest to cut wood. He found a young Boar fallen into a pit, which he brought home and reared, naming him Carpenter's Boar. The Boar became his servant: trees he turned over with his snout, and brought to him: he hitched the measuring-line around his tusk and pulled it along, fetched and carried adze, chisel, and mallet in his teeth.

When he grew up, he was a monstrous burly beast. The carpenter, who loved him as his own son, and feared lest some one might do him a mischief there, let him go free in the forest. The Boar thought, "I cannot live alone by myself in this forest: what if I search out my kindred, and live in their midst?" So he sought all through that multitude of trees for Boars, until seeing a herd of them, he was glad, and recited three stanzas:—

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

"Here are abundant roots and fruits, with plenteous store of food;
What lovely hills and pleasant rills! to dwell here will be good.

"Here will I dwell with all my kin, not anxious, at my ease,
Having no trouble, fearing nought from any enemies 1."

The Boars on hearing this verse responded with the fourth stanza:—

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

"Who is that foe? Come tell me true, my kindred, so well met,
Who is’t destroys you? though he has not quite destroyed you yet."

[345] "A king of beasts! striped up and down he is, with teeth to bite:
Ever the choicest of the herd he slays—a beast of might!"

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

"Sweet words to hear, O Carpenter, of which my heart is fain:
Let no Boar flee! or he shall be after the battle slain!"

Carpenter's Boar now having made them all of one mind asked, "At what time will the tiger come?" "To-day he came early in the morning and took one, to-morrow he will come early in the morning." The Boar was skilled in warfare, and knew the place of advantage to take, so that victory might be won. He searched about for a place, and made them take food while it was yet night; then very early in the morning, he explained to them how the order of battle is of three kinds, the Waggon Battle, and so forth; after which he arranged the Lotus 1 Battle in this manner. In the midst he placed the sucking pigs, and around them their mothers, next to these the barren sows, next a circle of young porkers, next the young ones with tusks just a-budding, next the big tuskers, and the old Boars outside all. Then he posted smaller squads of ten, twenty, thirty apiece here and there. He made them dig a pit for himself, and for the tiger to fall into a hole of the shape of a winnowing basket: between the two holes was left a spit of ground for himself to stand on. Then he with the stout fighting-boars went around everywhere encouraging the Boars.

[346] As he was thus engaged the sun rose. The Tiger, coming forth from the hermitage of a sham ascetic, appeared upon the hill-top. The Boars cried, "Our enemy is come, Sir!" "Fear not," said he, "whatever he does, you do the same." The Tiger gave himself a shake, and as though about to depart, made water; the Boars did the same. The Tiger looked at the Boars and roared a great roar; they did the same. Observing what they were at, he thought, "They have changed somehow; to-day they face me out as enemies, in orderly bands: some warrior has been mustering them; I must not go near them to-day." In fear of death he turned tail, and fled to the sham ascetic; and he, seeing the Tiger empty-handed, recited the ninth stanza:—

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

The Tiger thereupon repeated three stanzas:—

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

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

[347]"They all agree together now, a leader they have got;
When all agree they may hurt me: therefore I want them not."

To this the sham ascetic replied with the following stanza:—

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

Then the Tiger recited one:—

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

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

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

"Down stoops the hawk, and all alone, down on them as they play,
Harries and kills them at his will: that is your tiger's way."

[348] This said, he further encouraged him: "Royal Tiger, you know not your own power. One roar only, and a spring—there will not be two of them left together, I dare swear!" The Tiger did so.

To explain this, the Master said a stanza:—

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

Well, the Tiger went back and stood there awhile on the hill. The Boars told Carpenter's Boar that he was come again. "Fear not," said he, comforting them, and then took his stand upon the ridge between the two pits. The Tiger with all speed sprang towards the Boar, but the Boar rolled tail over snout in the first hole. The Tiger could not check his onset, and fell all of a heap into the pit shaped like to a winnowing fan. Up jumped the Boar in a trice, buried his tusks in the Tiger's thigh, pierced him to the heart, devoured the flesh, bit at him, bundled him over into the further pit, crying, "There, take the varlet!" 3 4 They who came first got one chance apiece of nozzling a mouthful, those who came later went about asking, "How does tiger's-meat taste?"

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Carpenter's Boar came out of the pit, and, looking round upon the others, said, "Well, don't you like it?" But they answered, "My lord, you have done for the Tiger, and that's one; but there is another left worse than ten tigers." "Who is that, pray?" "A sham ascetic, who eats the meat which the Tiger brings him from time to time." "Come along then, and we will catch him." So they quickly sprang off together.

Now the sham ascetic was watching the road, and expecting the Tiger to come every minute. And what should he see coming but the Boars! "They have killed the Tiger, methinks, and now they are come to kill me!" Away he ran, and climbed up a wild fig-tree. "He has climbed a tree?" said the Boars to their leader. "What tree?" "A fig-tree." "All right, we shall have him directly." He made the young Boars grub away the earth from its roots, and the sows bring each as much water as their mouths would hold, till there the tree stood upright bare down to the roots. Then he sent the others out of the way, and, going down on his knees, struck at the roots with his tusk: clean through the root he cut, as with an axe, down came the tree, but the man never got as far as the ground: he was torn to pieces and eaten on the way. Observing this marvel, the tree-spirit recited a stanza:-

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

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

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

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

p. 221

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

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

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


216:1 Compare No. 283 (trans. Vol. ii. 275).

216:2 See Vol. ii. pp. 164, 275.

216:3 Pasenadi was Mahā-Kosala's son, Aj. killed his father Bimbisāra.

216:4 See ii. 275, note 2.

217:1 One line occurs on p. 71, line 21, of the text (last couplet on p. 45, above).

217:2 Sic.

218:1 Note that this disagrees with the Introduction.

218:2 These two lines are the same as the first half of a stanza on p. 337.

219:1 The same stanza occurs in ii. 407 (trans. p. 277).

219:2 The text is uncertain. Doubtless it means the host is a match for the tiger.

220:1 A rarity, much prized, and used for consecration of a king.

The Jataka, Vol. IV: No. 493.: Mahā-Vāṇija-Jātaka.

The Jataka, Vol. IV, tr. by W.H.D. Rouse, [1901], at

No. 493.


"Merchants from many," etc. This story the Master told while dwelling at Jetavana, about some traders who lived in Sāvatthi. These, we hear, when going away on business bent, came with gifts to the Master, sheltering themselves in the Refuges and the Virtues. "Sir," they said, "if we return safe and sound, we will kiss your feet." With five hundred cartloads of merchandise they set out, and came soon to a wild forest, where they could see no road. Astray, waterless and sans food, they traversed the forest until, seeing a huge banyan tree which was haunted by dragons, they unyoked the carts and sat down beneath it. Looking upon its leaves, they saw them all glossy as though wet with water, and the branches seemed to be full of water, which made them think thus: "It appears as though water were running through this tree. What if we cut a branch of it facing the east? we shall find something to drink." 1 3 5 On this one climbed up the tree and cut off a branch: out gushed a stream of water thick as a palm-trunk, and in this they washed, of this they drank. Next they cut a branch on the southern side: out from it came all manner of choice food, and they ate of it. They then cut a branch on the west side of the tree: out sprang women fair and beauteously adorned, with whom they took their pleasure. Lastly, they cut one of the northern branches: from it fell the seven things of price, and they took them and filled the five hundred carts, and returned to Sāvatthi. There they caused the treasure to be carefully guarded. Bearing in their hands garlands and perfumes and the like, they repaired to Jetavana and saluted the Master and paid worship to him, and then sat on one side. That day they listened to the preaching of the Law; and the next, they brought a munificent present, and renounced the merit of the whole, saying, "The merit of this gift, Sir, we renounce in favour of a tree-deity who gave us the whole treasure." The meal finished, the Master asked them, "What tree-deity do you give this merit to?" The merchants told the Tathāgata the manner how they had received the treasure by a banyan tree. Said the Master, "This treasure you have received for your moderation, and because you have not given yourselves into the power of desire; but in former days men were immoderate, and were in the power of desire, and thereby they lost treasure and life both." Then at their request he told them a story of the past.

p. 222

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

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

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

"To this parched forest, poor in food, their way the travellers made,
And spied a mighty banyan tree with cool and pleasant shade.

"There underneath that shady tree those merchants all did sit,
And reasoned thus, with folly clothed and poverty of wit:

"Full moist the tree is, and it seems as water there did flow:
One of the branches let us cut which to the eastwards grow."

"The branch was cut; then pure and clear the trickling waters flow:
The merchants washed, the merchants drank till they had drunk enow.

"Again in poverty of wit, with folly clothed, they say,
"One of the branches on the south come let us cut away."

[352] "This branch being cut, both rice and meat out in a stream it brings,
Thick porridge, ginger, lentil soup and many other things.

"The merchants ate, the merchants drank, they took their fill of it,
Then said again, with folly clothed, in poverty of wit:

"Come, fellow-merchants, let us cut a western branch away."
Out came a bevy of fair girls all pranked in brave array.

"And O the robes of many hues, jewels and rings in plenty!
Each merchant had a pretty maid, each of the five and twenty.

"These all together stood around beneath the leafy shade:
These and the merchants in the midst, much merriment they made.

"Again in poverty of wit, with folly clothed, they say,
"One of the branches on the north come let us cut away."

"But when the northern branch was cut, out came a stream of gold,
Silver in handfuls, precious rugs, and jewels manifold;

"And robes of fine Benares cloth, and blankets thick and thin.
The merchants then to roll them up in bundles did begin.

"Again they said in witlessness and folly, as before:
"Come let us cut it by the root, and then we may get more."

"O then uprose their chief, and said, with a respectful bow,
"What mischief does the banyan do, good sirs? God bless you now!

"The eastern branch gave water-streams, the southern gave us food,
The western gave us pretty maids, the northern all things good:
What mischief does the banyan do, good sirs? God bless you now!

"The tree that gives you pleasant shade, to sit or lie at need,
You should not tear its branches down, a cruel wanton deed."

"But they were many, he was one whose voice forbade them do’t:
They struck the whetted axes in to fell it by the root."

p. 223

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

To explain this the Master repeated a stanza:

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

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

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

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

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

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

"So let him, seeing this evil thing, pain rooted in desire,
Shake off desire and fetters, and to holy life aspire."

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


222:1 Reading nissāya, as Fausbøll suggests.

The Jataka, Vol. IV: No. 494.: Sādhīna-Jātaka.

The Jataka, Vol. IV, tr. by W.H.D. Rouse, [1901], at

No. 494.


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

p. 224

Once upon a time, there was a King Sādhīna in Mithilā, who reigned in righteousness. At the four city gates, and in the midst of it, and at his own palace door he caused to be made six alms-halls, and with his almsgiving made a great stir through all India. Daily six hundred thousand pieces were spent in alms: he kept the Five Virtues, he observed the fast-day vows; and they of the city also, following his admonitions, gave alms and did good, and as they died, came to life at once in the city of the gods.

The princes of heaven, sitting in full conclave in Sakka's justice hall, praised Sādhīna's virtuous life and goodness. The report of him made all the other gods desirous to see him. Sakka, king of the gods, perceiving their mind, asked, "Do you wish to see King Sādhīna?" They replied, yes they did. Then he commanded Mātali, "Go to my palace Vejayanta, yoke my chariot, and bring Sādhīna hither. "He obeyed the command and yoked the chariot, and went to the kingdom of Videha.

It was then the day of full moon. At the time when people had partaken of their evening meal, and were sitting by their doors at their ease, Mātali drove his chariot side by side with the moon's disk. All the people called out, "See, two moons are in the sky!" But when they saw the chariot pass by the moon, and come towards them, then they cried, "’Tis no moon, but a chariot; a son of the gods, it would seem. For whom is he bringing this divine car, with his team of thorobreds, creatures of the imagination? Will it not be for our king? Yes, our king is a righteous and good king!" In their delight they joined hands with reverence, and standing repeated the first stanza:

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

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

To explain this, the Master repeated the following stanzas:

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

p. 225

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

"Then King Sādhīna turned his face, and mounted in the car:
Which with its thousand steeds then bore him to the gods afar.

"The gods beheld the king arrive: and then, their guest to greet
Cried, "Welcome mighty monarch, whom we are so glad to meet!
O King! beside the king of gods we pray you take a seat."

"And Sakka welcomed Vedeha, the king of Mithilā town,
Ay, Vāsava 1 offered him all joys, and prayed him to sit down.

"Amid the rulers of the world O welcome to our land:
Dwell with the gods, O king! who have all wishes at command,
Enjoy immortal pleasures, where the Three-and-thirty stand."

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

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

Then Sakka said to him:

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

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

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

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

"I care not blessings to receive given by another's hand,
My goods are mine and mine alone when on my deeds I stand.

"I'll go and do much good to men, give alms throughout the land,
Will follow virtue, exercise control and self-command:
He that so acts is happy, and fears no remorse at hand."

On hearing this, Sakka then gave orders to Mātali: "Go now, convey King Sādhīna to Mithilā, and set him down in his own park." He did so. The king walked to and fro in his park; the park-keeper espied

p. 226

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

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

[359] "The lovely lakes, that listen when the ruddy geese give call,
Where lotus white and lotus blue and trees like coral 1 grow,
—But those who loved this place with me, O say, where are they all?"

"These are the acres, this the place,
    The pleasaunce and the fields are here:
But seeing no familiar face,
    To me it seems a desert drear."

Hereupon Nārada said to him: "My lord, since you departed to the world of the gods seven hundred years have gone by; I am the seventh in line from you, your attendants have all gone down into the jaws of death. But this is your own rightful realm, and I beg you receive it." The king answered, "My dear Nārada, I came not here to be king, but to do good I came hither, and good I will do." He then said as follows:

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

"Joys more than human I have felt, a heavenly home was mine,
With all that heart could wish, among the Thirty-three divine.

"This I have seen, and to do deeds of virtue I came down:
And I will live a holy life: I want no royal crown.

[360] "The Path that never leads to woe, the Path the Buddhas show,
Upon that Path I enter now by which the holy go."

So spake the Great Being, by his omniscience compressing all into these stanzas. Then Nārada again said to him, "Take the rule of the kingdom upon you;" and he replied, "My dear son, I want no kingdom; but for seven days I wish to distribute again the alms given during these seven hundred years." Nārada was willing, and doing as he was

p. 227

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

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


225:1 Another name of Indra.

225:2 The scholiast explains:"I will give you the half of my merit, so remain here by my power."

226:1 Erythrina indica.

The Jataka, Vol. IV: No. 495.: Dasa-Brāhmaṇa-Jātaka.

The Jataka, Vol. IV, tr. by W.H.D. Rouse, [1901], at

No. 495.


"The righteous king," etc.—This story the Master told while dwelling in Jetavana, about a gift incomparable. This has been explained in the Sucira 2 Birth of the Eighth Book. We learn that the king, while making this distribution of gifts, examined five hundred Brethren with the Master their chief, and gave to the most holy saints among them. Then they sat talking in the Hall of Truth, and telling of his goodness thus: "Brother, the king, in giving the incomparable gift, gave it in a case of much merit." The Master, entering, would know what they talked of sitting there: and they told him. Said he: "’Tis no wonder, Brethren, 1 3 6 that the King of Kosala, being the follower of such as I am, gives with discrimination. Wise men of old, ere yet the Buddha had arisen, even they gave with discrimination." With these words, he told them a story of the past.

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

p. 228

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

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

"Men free from deeds of evil lust, that they may eat my food:
So I would give, my friend, that I may reap a crop of good."

"’Tis hard to find such holy men, such brahmins, wise and good,
Who keep them spotless from all lust, that they may eat your food.

"Of brahmins, O most mighty king, ten several kinds are there:
Listen, while I distinguish them, and all these kinds declare.

"Some carry sacks upon their backs, root-filled and fastened tight;
They gather healing herbs, they bathe, and magic spells recite.

"These are physician-like, O king, and brahmins too they hight:
Such brahmins shall we seek for, now you know this kind aright?"

[362] Quoth King Koravya:

"These have no right to such a name: lost is their brahminhood:
Vidhūra, find me other men who shall be wise and good,

"Men free from deeds of evil lust, that they may eat my food:
So would I give, that I myself may reap a crop of good."

"Some carry bells and go before, and as they go they ring,
A chariot they can drive with skill, and messages can bring:

"These are like servants, mighty king, and brahmins too they hight:
Such brahmins shall we seek for, now you know this kind aright?"

Quoth King Koravya:

"These have no right to such a name: lost is their brahminhood:
Vidhūra, find me other men who shall be wise and good,

"Men free from deeds of evil lust, that they may eat my food:
So would I give, that I myself may reap a crop of good."

"With waterpot and crooked staff some run to meet the king,
Through all the towns and villages, and as they follow, sing—
"In wood or town we never budge, until a gift you bring"!

"Like tax-men these importunate, and brahmins too they hight:
Such brahmins shall we seek for, now you know this kind aright?"

Quoth King Koravya:

"These have no right to such a name: lost is their brahminhood:
Vidhūra, find me other men who shall be wise and good,

"Men free from deeds of evil lust, that they may eat my food:
So would I give, that I myself may reap a crop of good."

"Some with long nails and hairy limbs, foul teeth, and matted hair,
Covered with dust and dirt-begrimed as beggar-men they fare:

"Hewers of wood, O mighty king! and brahmins too they hight:
Such brahmins shall we seek for, now you know this kind aright?"

p. 229

[363] Quoth King Koravya:

"These have no right to such a name: lost is their brahminhood:
Vidhūra, find me other men who shall be wise and good,

"Men free from deeds of evil lust, that they may eat my food:
So would I give, that I myself may reap a crop of good."

"Myrobolan and vilva fruit, rose-apple, mangoes ripe 1,
The labuj-fruit and planks of wood, tooth-brush and smoking-pipe,

"Sugar-cane baskets, honey sweet, and ointment too, O king,
All these they make their traffick in, and many another thing.

"These are like merchants, O great king, and brahmins too they hight:
Such brahmins shall we seek for, now you know this kind aright?"

Quoth King Koravya:

"These have no right to such a name: lost is their brahminhood:
Vidhūra, find me other men who shall be wise and good,

"Men free from deeds of evil lust, that they may eat my food:
So would I give, that I myself may reap a crop of good."

"Some follow trade and husbandry, keep flocks of goats in fold,
They give and take in marriage, and their daughters sell for gold 2.

"Like Vessa and Ambaṭṭha 3 these; and brahmins they too hight:
Such Brahmins shall we seek for, now you know this kind aright?"

Quoth King Koravya:

"These have no right to such a name: lost is their brahminhood:
Vidhūra, find me other men who shall be wise and good,

"Men free from deeds of evil lust, that they may eat my food:
So would I give, that I myself may reap a crop of good."

[364] "Some chaplains fortunes tell, or geld and mark a beast for pay:
With proffered food the village folk invite them oft to stay.
There kine and bullocks, swine and goats are slaughtered many a day.

"Like butchers base are these, O king, and brahmins too they hight:
Such brahmins shall we seek for, now you know this kind aright?"

Quoth King Koravya:

"These have no right to such a name: lost is their brahminhood:
Vidhūra, find me other men who shall be wise and good,

"Men free from deeds of evil lust, that they may eat my food:
So would I give, that I myself may reap a crop of good."

"Some brahmins, armed with sword and shield, with battle-axe in hand,
Ready to guide a caravan before the merchants stand.

"Like herdmen these, or bandits bold, yet brahmins too they hight:
Such brahmins shall we seek for, now you know this kind aright?"

p. 230

Quoth King Koravya:

"These have no right to such a name: lost is their brahminhood:
Vidhūra, find me other men who shall be wise and good,

"Men free from deeds of evil lust, that they may eat my food:
So would I give, that I myself may reap a crop of good."

"Some build them huts and lay them traps in any woodland place,
Catch fish and tortoises, the hare, wild-cat and lizard chase.

"Hunters are these, O mighty king, and brahmins they too hight:
Such brahmins shall we seek for, now you know this kind aright?"

Quoth King Koravya:

"These have no right to such a name: lost is their brahminhood:
Vidhūra, find me other men who shall be wise and good,

[365] "Men free from deeds of evil lust, that they may eat my food
So would I give, that I myself may reap a crop of good."

"Others for love of gold lie down beneath the royal bed,
At soma-sacrifice: the kings bathing above their head 1.

"These are like barbers? O great king, but brahmins too they hight:
Such brahmins shall we seek for, now you know this kind aright?"

Quoth King Koravya:

"These have no right to such a name: lost is their brahminhood:
Vidhūra, find me other men who shall be wise and good,

"Men free from deeds of evil lust, that they may eat my food:
So would I give, that I myself may reap a crop of good."

[367] Thus having described those who are brahmins in name only, he went on to describe the brahmins in the highest sense in the following two stanzas:

"But there are brahmins, too, my lord, men very wise and good,
Free from the deeds of evil lust, to eat your offered food.

"One only meal of rice they eat: strong drink they never touch:
And now you know this kind aright, say shall we look for such?"

When the king heard his words, he asked "Where, friend Vidhūra, where dwell these brahmins, worthy of the best things?" "In the further Himalaya, O king, in a cave of Mount Nanda." "Then, wise sir, bring me those brahmins hither, by your power." Then in great joy the king recited this stanza:

"Vidhūra, bring those brahmins here, so holy and so wise,
Invite them, O Vidhūra, here, let no delay arise!"

p. 231

The Great Being agreed to do as he was requested, adding this: "Now, O king! send the drum beating about the city, to proclaim that the city must be gloriously adorned, and all the people of it must give alms, and undertake the holy-day vows, and pledge themselves to virtue; and you with all your court must take the holy-day vows upon you." Himself at early dawn, having taken his meal, and taken the holy-day vows, at eventide he sent for a basket of the colour of jasmine, and together with the monarch made a salutation with the full prostration 1, 3 6 and he called to memory the virtues of the Pacceka Buddhas, uttering these words: "Let the five hundred Pacceka Buddhas who dwell in Northern Himalaya, in the cave of Mount Nanda, to-morrow partake of our food!" he cast eight handfuls of flowers into the air. At once these flowers fell upon the five hundred Pacceka Buddhas, in the place where they dwelt. They pondered, and understood the fact, and accepted the invitation, saying, "Reverend Sirs, we are invited by the wise Vidhūra, and no mean creature is he: he has the seed of a Buddha within him, and in this very cycle a Buddha he will be. Let us show him favour." The Great Being understood that they would comply, by token that the flowers did not return. Then he said, "O great king! to-morrow the Pacceka Buddhas will come; do them honour and worship." Next day the king did them great honour, preparing precious seats for them upon a great dais. The Pacceka Buddhas, in Lake Anotatta, having waited for the time when their bodily needs were seen to, travelled through the air and descended in the royal courtyard. The king and the Bodhisatta, faith in their hearts, received the bowls from their hands, and caused them to come up on the terrace, seated them, gave them the gift-water 2 into their hands, and served them with food hard and soft most delightful.

After the meal, he invited them for the next day, and so on for seven days following, presenting them with many gifts, and on the seventh day he gave them all the requisites. Then they gave him thanks, and passing through the air returned to the same place, and the requisites also went with them.

The Master, after finishing this discourse, said: "No wonder, Brethren, that the king of Kosala being my follower, has given me the gift incomparable, for wise men of old when as yet there was no Buddha, did the same." Then he identified the Birth: "At that time Ānanda was the king, and the wise Vidhūra was I myself."


227:1 See Fick, Sociale Gliederung, p. 140.

227:2 No such title appears. The incomparable gift is referred to in No. 424, Āditta jātaka, but the reader is referred to Mahāgovinda Sutta.

228:1 This line occurs in iii. 401 (p. 202 of the translation).

229:1 The fruits and trees named are: myrobolan (terminalia chebula), emblic myrobolan (emblica officinalis), mango, rose-apple (Eugenia jambu), beleric myrobolan, artocarpus lacucha, vilva (aegle marmelos), rājāyatana wood (? Buchanania latifolia). Brahmins were forbidden to sell fruits or healing herbs, honey and ointment, not to say other things.

229:2 I.e. arrange a marriage in which the man pays them a price.

229:3 A mixt caste, sprung from a brahmin father and a Vaiçya woman.

230:1 After a soma offering, the custom was for a king to bathe on a gorgeous couch. A brahmin lay beneath, and the holy water, washing off the king's sins, washed them on to the brahmin, who received the bed and all its ornaments as recompense for playing scapegoat. Fick, Sociale Gliederung, p. 143, note, quoting Oldenberg, Religion des Veda, pp. 407ff.

231:1 Lit. prostration of "the five rests," so as to touch the ground with forehead both elbows, waist, knees, and feet.

231:2 Water poured into the right-hand in ratifying some promise made or gift bestowed.

The Jataka, Vol. IV: No. 496.: Bhikkhā-Parampara-Jātaka.

The Jataka, Vol. IV, tr. by W.H.D. Rouse, [1901], at

p. 232

No. 496.


[369] "I saw one sitting," etc.—This story the Master told, whilst dwelling in Jetavana, about a certain landowner. He was a true and faithful believer, and showed honour continually to the Tathāgata and the Order. One day these thoughts came to him. "I show honour constantly to the Buddha, that precious jewel, and the Order, that precious jewel, by bestowing upon them delicate food and soft raiment. Now I should like to do honour to that precious jewel the Law: but how is one to show honour to that?" So he took plenty of perfumed garlands and such like things, and proceeded to Jetavana, and greeting the Master, asked him this question: "My desire is, Sir, to show honour to the jewel of the Law: how is a man to set about it?" The Master replied, "If your desire is to honour the jewel of the Law, then show honour to Ānanda, the Treasurer of the Law." "It is well," he said, and promised to do so. He invited the Elder to visit him, and brought him next day to his house in great pomp and splendour; he placed the Elder upon a magnificent seat, and worshipt him with perfumed garlands and so forth, gave him choice food of many kinds, presented cloth of great price sufficient for the three robes. Thought the Elder, "This honour is done to the jewel of the Law; it befits not me, but it befits the chief Commander of the Faith." So the food placed in the bowl, and the cloths, he took to the monastery, and gave it to Elder Sāriputta. He thought likewise, "This honour is done to the jewel of the Law; it befits simply and solely the Supreme Buddha, lord of the Law," and he gave it to the Dasabala. The Master, seeing no one above himself, partook of the food, accepted the cloth for robes. And the Brethren chatted about it in the Hall of Truth: "Brethren, so and so the landowner, meaning to show honour to the Law, made a gift to Elder Ānanda, Treasurer of the Law; he thought himself unworthy of it, and gave it to the Commander of the Faith; and he, thinking himself not worthy, to the Tathāgata. But the Tathāgata, seeing no one above himself, knew that he was worthy of it as Lord of the Law, and ate of the food, and took that cloth for robes. Thus the gift of food has found its master, by going to him whose right it was." The Master entering, asked them what they talked of as they sat there. They told him. "Brethren," said he, "this is not the first time that food given has fallen to the lot of the worthy by successive steps; so it did long ago, before the Buddha's day." With these words, he told them a story of the past.

[370] Once upon a time Brahmadatta ruled righteously in Benares, having renounced the ways of sin, and he kept the Ten Royal Virtues. This being so, his court of justice became so to say empty. The king, by way of searching out his own faults, questioned every one, beginning with those who dwelt about him; but not in the women's apartments, nor in the city, nor in the near villages, could he find any one who had a fault to tell of him 1. Then he made up his mind to try the country

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folk. So handing over the government to his courtiers, and taking the chaplain with him, he traversed the kingdom of Kāsi in disguise; yet he found no one with a fault to tell of him.

At last he came to a village on the frontier, and sat down in a hall without the gate. At that time, a landowner of that village, a rich man worth eighty crores, in going down with a great following to the bathing place, saw the king seated in the hall, with his dainty body and skin of a golden colour. He took a fancy to him, and entering the hall, said, "Stay here awhile." Then he went to his house, and had got ready all manner of dainty food, and returned with his grand retinue carrying vessels of food. At the same time, an ascetic from Himalaya came in and sat down there, a man who had the Five Transcendent Faculties. And a Pacceka Buddha also, from a cave on Mount Nanda, came and sat there. The landowner gave the king water to wash his hands, and prepared a dish of food with all manner of fine sauces and condiments, and set before the king. He received it and gave it to the brahmin chaplain. The chaplain took it and gave to the ascetic. The ascetic walked up to the Pacceka Buddha, in his left hand holding the vessel of food, and in his right the waterpot, first offered the water of gift 1, and then placed the food in the bowl. He proceeded to eat, without inviting any to share, or asking leave. When the meal was done, the landowner thought: "I gave this food to the king, and he to his chaplain and the chaplain to the ascetic, and the ascetic to the Pacceka Buddha; the Pacceka Buddha has eaten it without leave asked. What means this manner of giving? 1 3 Why did the last eat without with your leave or by your leave? I will ask them one by one." Then he approached each in turn, and saluting them, asked his question, while they made answer:

"I saw one worthy of a throne, who from a kingdom came
To deserts bare from palaces, most delicate of frame.

"On him in kindness I bestowed picked paddy-grains to eat,
A mess of rice all cooked so nice such as men pour on meat.

"You took the food, and gave it to the brahmin, eating none:
With all due deference I ask, what is it you have done?"

"My teacher, pastor, zealous he for duties great and small,
I ought to give the food to him, for he deserves it all."

"Brahmin, whom even kings respect, say why did you not eat 2
The mess of rice, all cooked so nice, which men pour over meat.

"You knew not the gift's scope, but to the sage you past it on:
With all due deference I ask, what is it you have done?"

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"I keep a wife and family, in houses too I dwell,
I rule the passions of a king, my own indulge as well.

"Unto a wise ascetic man long dwelling in the wood,
Old, practised in religious lore, I ought to give the food.

"Now the thin sage I ask, whose skin shows all the veins beneath,
With nails grown long, and shaggy hair, and dirty head and teeth:

"Have you no care for life, O lonely dweller in the wood?
How is this monk a better man to whom you gave the food?"

"Wild bulbs and radishes I dig, catmint and herbs seek I,
Wild rice, black mustard shake or pick, and spread them out to dry,

"Jujubes, herbs, honey, lotus-threads, myrobolan, scraps of meat,
This is my wealth, and these I take and make them fit to eat.

[372] "I cook, he cooks not: I have wealth, he nothing: I'm bound tight
To worldly things, but he is free: the food is his by right."

"I ask the Brother, sitting there, with cravings all subdued;
—This mess of rice, all cooked and nice, which men pour on their food,

"You took it, and with appetite eat it, and share with none;
With all due deference I ask, what is it you have done?"

"I cook not, nor I cause to cook, destroy nor have destroyed;
He knew that I possess no wealth, all sins I do avoid.

"The pot he carried in his right, and in his left the food,
Gave me the broth men pour on meat, the mess of rice so good;

"They have possessions, they have wealth, to give their duty is:
Who asks a giver to partake, he is a foe, y-wis."

[373] On hearing these words, the landowner in high delight repeated the last two stanzas:

"It was a happy chance for me to-day that brought the king:
I never knew before how gifts abundant fruit would bring.

"Kings in their kingdoms, brahmins in their work, are full of greed,
Sages in picking fruits and roots: Brethren from sin are freed."

The Pacceka Buddha having discoursed to him, then departed to his own place, and the ascetic likewise. And the king, after remaining a few days with him, went away to Benares.

[374] When the Master had ended this discourse, he said: "It is not the first time, Brethren, that food went to him who deserved it, for the same thing has happened before." Then he identified the Birth: "At that time, the landowner who did honour to the Law was the landowner in the story, Ānanda was the king, Sāriputta the chaplain, and I myself was the ascetic who lived in Himalaya."


232:1 Compare vol. ii. no. 151, p. 1.

233:1 See p. 231, note 2.

233:2 Gotama is here only the clan-name of the brahmin, vaḍḍham is the right reading, boiled rice.

The Jataka, Vol. IV: No. 497.: Mātaṅga-Jātaka.

The Jataka, Vol. IV, tr. by W.H.D. Rouse, [1901], at

p. 235


No. 497.


[375] "Whence comest thou," etc.—This story the Master told while dwelling in Jetavana, about the hereditary king Udena. At that time, the reverend Piṇḍola-bhāradvāja passing from Jetavana through the air, used generally to pass the heat of the day in king Udena's park at Kosambī. The Elder, we are told, had in a former existence been king, and for a long time had enjoyed glory in that very park with his retinue. By virtue of the good then by him performed, he used to sit there in the heat of the day, enjoying the bliss of Attainment which was its fruit.

One day he was in that place, and sitting under a sal-tree in full flower, when Udena came into the park with a large number of followers. For seven days he had been drinking deep, and he wished to take his pleasure in the park. He lay down on the royal seat in the arms of one of his women, and being foxed soon fell asleep. Then the women who sat singing around threw down their instruments of music, and wandered about the pleasance gathering flowers and fruit. By and by they saw the Elder, and came up, and saluting him sat down. The Elder sat where he was and discoursed to them. The other woman by shifting her arms awoke the king, who said, "Where are those drabs gone?" She replied, "They are sitting in a ring round an ascetic." The king grew angry, and went to the Elder, abusing and reviling: "Out on it, I'll have the fellow devoured by red ants!" So in rage he caused a basket full of red ants to be broken over the Elder's body. But the Elder rose up in the air, and admonished the king; then to Jetavana he went, and alighted at the gateway of the Perfumed Chamber. "Whence have you come?" asked the Tathāgata: and he told him the fact. "Bhāradvāja," quoth he, "this is not the first time Udena has done despite to a religious man, but he did the same before." Then at the Elder's request, he told a story of the past.

[376] Once upon a time, when Brahmadatta was king of Benares, the Great Being was born outside the city, as a Caṇḍāla's son, and they gave him the name of Mātaṅga, the Elephant 1. Afterwards he attained wisdom, and his fame was blown abroad as the Wise Mātaṅga. Now at that time one Diṭṭha-maṅgalikā 2, daughter of a Benares merchant, every month or

p. 236

two used to come and disport her in the park with a crowd of companions. One day, the Great Being had gone to town on some business, and as he was entering the gate met Diṭṭha-maṅgalikā. He stept aside, and stood quite still, From behind her curtain Diṭṭha-maṅgalikā spied him, and asked, "Who is that?" "A Caṇḍāla, my lady." "Bah," says she, "I have seen something that brings bad luck," and washing her eyes with scented water she turned back. The people with her cried out, "Ah, vile outcast, you have lost us free food and liquor to-day!" In rage they pummelled Mātaṅga the wise with hands and feet, and made him senseless, and went away. After a while he recovered consciousness, and thought, "The crowd around Diṭṭha-maṅgalikā beat me for no reason, an innocent man. I will not budge till I get her, not a moment before." With this resolve, he went and lay down at the door of her father's house. When they asked him why he lay there, his reply was, "All I want is Diṭṭha-maṅgalikā." One day passed, then a second, a third, fourth, fifth, and sixth. The resolve of the Buddhas is immovable; therefore on the seventh day they brought out the girl and gave her to him. Then she said, "Rise up, master, and let us go to your house." But he said, "Lady, I have been well pummelled by your people, I am weak, take me up on your back and carry me." So she did, and in full view of the citizens went forth from the city to the Caṇḍāla settlement.

There for a few days the Great Being kept her, without transgressing in any way the rules of caste. Then he thought, "Only by renouncing the world, and in no other way, shall I be able to show this lady the highest honour and give her the best gifts." 3 So he said to her, "Lady, if I fetch nothing out of the forest, we cannot live. I will go into the forest; wait till I return, but do not worry." He laid injunctions upon the household not to neglect her, and went into the forest, and embraced the life of a religious ascetic, with all diligence; so that in seven days he developed the Eight Attainments and the Five Supernatural Faculties. Then he thought, "Now I shall be able to protect Diṭṭha-maṅgalikā." By his supernatural power he went back, and alighted at the gate of the Caṇḍāla village, whence he proceeded to the door of Diṭṭha-maṅgalikā's house. She, when she heard of his return, came out, and began to weep, saying, "Why have you deserted me, master, and become an ascetic?" He said, "Never mind, lady, now I will make you more glorious than your former glory. Will you be able to say in the midst of the people just this: "My husband is not Mātaṅga, but the Great Brahma?" "Yes, master, I can say it." "Very well, when they ask you where is your husband, you must reply, He is gone to Brahma's heaven. If they ask, when he will come back, you must say, In seven days he will come, breaking the moon's disk when she is at the full." With these words, he went away to Himalaya.

p. 237

Now Diṭṭha-maṅgalikā said what she had been told here and there in Benares, amidst a great crowd. The people believed, saying, "Ah, he is Great Brahma, and therefore does not visit Diṭṭha-maṅgalikā, but thus and thus it will be." On the night of full moon, at the time when the moon stands still in mid-course, the Bodhisatta assumed the appearance of Brahma, and amidst a blaze of light which filled all the kingdom of Kāsi, and the city of Benares twelve leagues in extent, broke through the moon and came down: thrice he made circuit above the city of Benares, and received the worship of the great crowd with perfumed garlands and such like, and then turned his face towards the Caṇḍāla village. The devotees of Brahma gathered together, and went to the Caṇḍāla village. They covered Diṭṭha-maṅgalikā's house with white cloths, swept the ground with four manner of sweet smelling things, scattered flowers, 3 burnt incense, spread an awning, prepared a splendid seat, lit a lamp of scented oil, laid at the door sand white and smooth as a silver plate, scattered flowers, put up banners. Before the house thus decorated the Great Being came down, and entered, and sat a little while on the seat. At that time Diṭṭha-maṅgalikā was in her monthly terms. His 1 thumb touched her navel, and she conceived. Then the Great Being said to her, "Lady, you are with child, and you shall bring forth a son; you and your son shall receive the highest honour and tribute; the water that washes your feet shall be used by kings for the ceremonial sprinkling throughout all India, the water you bathe in shall be an elixir of immortality, those who sprinkle it on their heads shall be set free from all disease and shall not know ill luck, they who lay the head on your feet and salute you shall give a thousand pieces of money, they who stand within your hearing and salute you shall give a hundred, they who stand in your sight and salute you shall give one rupee each. Be vigilant!" With this admonition, in view of the crowd, he rose up and re-entered the moon.

The devotees of Brahma collected, and stood there through the whole night; in the morning they caused her to enter a golden palanquin, and taking it upon their heads, bore her into the city. A great concourse came to her, crying aloud, "The wife of Great Brahma!" and did worship with scented garlands and other such things; those who were allowed to lay the head on her feet and salute her gave a purse of a thousand pieces, those who might salute her within hearing gave a hundred, those who might salute her standing within her sight gave one rupee each. Thus they included in their progress the whole city of Benares, twelve leagues in extent, and received a sum of eighteen crores.

Having thus made the circuit of that city, they brought her to the centre of it, and there built a great pavilion, and set curtains about it,

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and caused her to dwell there amidst much glory and prosperity. Before the pavilion, they began to build seven great entrance gates, and a palace with seven storeys: much new merit was set to their account.

In that same pavilion, Diṭṭha-maṅgalikā brought forth a son. On his name-day, 3 the brahmins gathered together, and named him Maṇḍavya-kumāra, the Prince of the Pavilion, because he was born there. In ten months the palace was finished: from that time she 1 dwelt in it, highly honoured. And Prince Maṇḍavya grew up amid great magnificence. When he was seven or eight years old, the best teachers in the length and breadth of India gathered together, and they taught him the three Vedas. From the age of sixteen he provided food for the brahmins, and sixteen thousand brahmins were fed continually; at the fourth embattled gateway the alms were distributed to the brahmins.

Now on one great day of festival they prepared a quantity of rice porridge, and sixteen thousand brahmins sat by the fourth embattled gateway and partook of this food, accompanied with fresh ghee of a golden yellow, a decoction of honey and lump sugar; and the prince himself, brilliantly adorned with jewels, with golden slippers upon his feet, and a staff of fine gold in his hand, was walking about and giving directions, "Ghee here, honey here." At that time, the wise Mātaṅga seated in his hermitage in the Himalayas, turned his thoughts to see what news there was of Diṭṭha-maṅgalikā's son. Perceiving that he was going in the wrong way, he thought, "To-day I will go, and convert the young man, and I will teach him how to give so that the gift shall bring much fruit." He went through the air to Lake Anotatta, and there washed his mouth, and so forth; standing in the district of Manosilā 2, he donned the pair of coloured garments, girt his girdle about him, put on the ragged robe, took his earthen bowl, and went through the air to the fourth gateway, where he alighted just by the alms-hall, and stood on one side. Maṇḍavya, looking this way and that, espied him. "Where do you come from," cried he, "you ascetic, you misbegotten outcast, a goblin and no man?" and he repeated the first stanza:


"Whence comest thou, in filthy garments drest,
    A creature vile and goblin-like, I vow,
A robe of refuse-rags across thy breast,
    Unworthy of a gift—say, who art thou?"

The Great Being listened, then with gentle heart addressed him in the words of the second stanza:

"The food, O noble sir! is ready set,
    The people taste, and eat, and drink of it:
You know we live on what we chance to get;
    Rise! let the low-caste churl enjoy a bit."

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Then Maṇḍavya recited the third stanza:

"For brahmins, for my blessing, by my hand
    This food is got, the gift of faithful heart.
Away! what boots it in my sight to stand?
    ’Tis not for such as thou: vile wretch, depart!"

[381] Thereupon the Great Being repeated a stanza:

"They sow the seed on high ground and on low,
    Hoping for fruit, and on the marshy plain:
In such a faith as this thy gifts bestow;
    Worthy recipients so thou shalt obtain."

Then Maṇḍavya repeated a stanza:

"I know the lands wherein I mean to sow,
    The proper places in this world for seed,
Brahmins highborn, that holy scriptures know:
    These are good ground and fertile fields indeed

Then the Great Being repeated two stanzas:

"The pride of birth, o’erweening self-conceit,
    Drunkenness, hatred, ignorance, and greed,—
Those in whose hearts these vices find their seat,—
    They all are bad and barren fields for seed.

"The pride of birth o’erweening, self-conceit,
    Drunkenness, hatred, ignorance, and greed,—
2 3 Those in whose hearts these vices find no seat,
    They all are good and fertile fields for seed."

These words the Great Being repeated again and again; but the other grew angry, and cried—"The fellow prates overmuch. Where are my porters gone, that they do not cast out the churl?" Then he repeated a stanza:

"Ho Bhaṇḍakucchi, Upajjhāya ho!
    And where is Upajotiya, I say?
Punish the fellow, kill the fellow, go—
    And by the throat hale the vile churl away!"

The men hearing his call, came up at a run, and saluting him, asked, "What are we to do, my lord?" "Did you ever see this base outcast?" "No, Sire, we did not know he had come in at all: some juggler he is doubtless, or cunning rogue."—"Well, why do you stand there?"—"What are we to do, my lord?"—"Why, strike the fellow's mouth, break his jaw, tear his back with rods and cudgels, punish him, take the wretch by the throat, knock him down, away with him out of this place!" But the Great Being, ere they could come at him, rose up in the air, and there poised, repeated a stanza:


"Revile a sage! to swallow blazing fire as much avails,
Or bite hard iron, or dig down a mountain with your nails."

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Having uttered these words, the Great Being rose high in the air, while the youth and the brahmins gazed at the sight.

Explaining this, the Master recited a stanza:

"So spake the sage Mātaṅga, champion of truth and right,
Then in the air he rose aloft before the brahmins' sight."

He turned his face to the eastwards, and coming down in a certain street, with intent that his footsteps might be visible, he begged alms near the eastern gate; then, having collected a quantity of mixt victuals, he sat him down in a certain hall and began to eat. But the deities of the city came up, finding it intolerable that this king should so speak as to annoy their sage. So the eldest goblin among them seized hold of Maṇḍavya by the neck, and twisted it, and the others seized the other brahmins and twisted their necks. But through pity for the Bodhisatta, they did not kill Maṇḍavya: "he is his son," they said, and only tormented him. Maṇḍavya's head was twisted so that it looked backwards over his shoulders; hands and feet were stiff and stark; his eyes were turned up, as though he were a dead man: there he lay stark. The other brahmins turned round and round, drabbling spittle at the mouth. People went and told Diṭṭha-maṅgalikā, "Something has happened to your son, my lady!" She made all haste thither, and seeing him cried, "Oh, what is this!" and recited a stanza:

"Over the shoulder twisted stands his head;
    See how he stretches out a helpless arm!
White are his eyes as though he were quite dead:
    O who is it has wrought my son this harm?"

[384] Then the bystanders repeated a stanza, telling her about it:

"A hermit came, in filthy garments drest,
    A creature vile and goblin-like to see,
With robe of refuse-rags across his breast:
    The man who treated thus thy son, is he."

On hearing this, she thought: "No other has the power, the wise Mātaṅga without doubt it must be! But one who is stedfast, and full of goodwill to all creatures, will never go away and leave all these folk to torment. Now in what direction can he have gone?" which question she put in the following stanza:

"In what direction went the wise one hence?
    O noble youths, pray answer me this thing!
Come let us make atonement for the offence,
    Our son to life again that we may bring."

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The young men answered her in this manner:

"That wise one, up into the air rose he,
    Like moon in mid-career the fifteenth day:
The sage, truth-consecrated, fair to see,
    Towards the east moreover bent his way."

This answer given, she said, "I will seek my husband!" and bidding take with her pitchers of gold and cups of gold, surrounded with a company of waiting women, she went and found the place where his footsteps had touched the ground; these she followed, until she came to him sitting upon a seat, and eating his meal. 3 5 Approaching she saluted him, and stood still. On seeing her he placed some boiled rice in his bowl. Diṭṭha maṅgalikā poured water for him from a golden pitcher; he at once washed his hands and rinsed out his mouth. Then she said, "Who has done this cruel thing to my son?" repeating this stanza:

"Over the shoulder twisted stands his head;
    See how he stretches out a helpless arm!
White are his eyes, as though he were quite dead:
    O who is it has wrought my son this harm?"

The stanzas which follow are said by the two alternately:

"Goblins there are, whose might and power is great,
    Who follow sages, beautiful to see:
They saw thy son ill-minded, passionate,
    And they have treated thus thy son for thee."

"Then it is goblins who this thing have done:
    Do not be wroth, O holy man, with me!
O Brother! full of love towards my son
    Hither for refuge to thy feet I flee!"

"Then let me tell thee that my mind doth hide
    Nor then nor now a thought of enmity:
Thy son, through fancied knowledge, drunk with pride,
    Knows not the meaning of the Vedas three."

"O Brother! verily a man may find
All in a trice his sense quite gone blind.
Forgive me my one error, O wise sage!
They who are wise are never fierce in rage 1."

[386] The Great Being, thus pacified by her, replied, "Well, I will give you the elixir of immortal life, to make the goblins depart"; and he recited this stanza:

"This fragment of my leavings take with thee,
    Let the poor fool Maṇḍavya eat a piece:
Thy son shall be made whole, restored to thee,
    And so the goblins shall their prey release."

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When she heard the words of the Great Being, she held out a golden bowl, saying, "Give me the elixir of immortality, my lord!" The Great Being dropt in it some of his rice gruel, and said, "First put the half of this into your son's mouth; the rest mix with water in a vessel, and put it in the mouths of the other brahmins: they shall all be made whole." Then he arose and departed to Himalaya. She carried off the pitcher upon her head, crying, "I have the elixir of immortality!" Arrived at the house, she first put some of it in her son's mouth. The Goblin fled away; the king got up, and brushed off the dust, asking, "What is this, mother?"—"You know well enough what you have done; now see the miserable plight of your dolesmen!" When he looked at them, he was filled with remorse. 3 Then his mother said, "Maṇḍavya, my dear son, you are a fool, and you do not know how to give so that the gift may bear fruit. Such as these are not fit for your bounty, but only such as are like the wise Mātaṅga. Henceforward give nothing to evil men like these, but give to the virtuous." Then she said:—

"Thou art a fool, Maṇḍavya, small of wit,
Not knowing when to do good deeds is fit:
Thou givest to those whose sinfulness is great,
To evildoers and intemperate.

"Garments of skin, a mass of shaggy hair,
    Mouth like an ancient well with grass o’ergrown,
And see what ragged clouts the creatures wear!
    But fools are saved not by such things alone.

"When passion, hate, and ignorance, afar from men are driven,
Give to such calm and holy men: much fruit for this is given."

"Therefore from this time forward give not to wicked men like this; but whoso in this world has reached the eight Attainments, righteous ascetics and brahmins who have gained the Five Transcendent Faculties, Pacceka Buddhas, to these give your gifts. Come my son, let me give these our servants the elixir of immortality, 3 and make them whole." So saying, she had the leavings of the rice gruel taken, and put in a pitcher of water, and sprinkled over the mouths of the sixteen thousand brahmins. Each one got up, and brushed off the dust.

Then these brahmins, having been made to taste the leavings of a Caṇḍāla, were put out of caste by the other brahmins. In shame they departed from Benares, and went to the kingdom of Mejjha, where they lived with the king of that country. But Maṇḍavya remained where he was.

At that time there was a brahmin named Jātimanta, one of the religious, who lived hard by the city of Vettavatī on the banks of the river of that name; and he was a man mightily proud of his birth. The Great Being went thither, resolved to humble the man's pride; and he

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made his abode near him, but further up stream. One day, having nibbled at a tooth-stick 1, he let it fall into the river, resolving that it should get entangled in Jātimanta's knot of hair. Accordingly, as he was washing in the water, the stick became entangled in his hair. "Curse the brute!" said he, when he saw it, "where has this come from, with a pest! I will enquire." He proceeded up stream, and finding the Great Being, asked him, "What caste are you of?"—"I am a Caṇḍāla."—"Did you drop a tooth-stick into the river?"—"Yes, I did."—"You brute! curse you, vile outcast, a murrain on you, don't stay here, but go further down stream." But even when he went to live down stream, the tooth-sticks he dropt floated against the current, and stuck in Jātimanta's hair. "Curse you!" quoth he, "if you stay here, in seven days your head shall burst into seven pieces!" The Great Being thought, "If I allow myself to be angry with the man, I shall not be keeping my virtue; but I will find a way to break down his pride." On the seventh day, he prevented the sunrise. All the world was put out: they came to the ascetic Jātimanta, and asked, "Is it you, Sir, who prevent the sun from rising?" He said, "That is no doing of mine; but there is a Caṇḍāla living by the riverside, and his doing it must be." Then the people came to the Great Being, and asked him, "Is it you, Sir, who keep the sun from rising?" 3 "Yes, friends," said he. "Why?" they asked. "The ascetic who is your favourite reviles me, an innocent man; when he comes and falls at my feet to ask for mercy, then I will let the sun go." They went and dragged him along, and cast him down before the Great Being's feet, and tried to appease him, saying, "Sir, pray let the sun go." But he said, "I cannot let him go; if I do so, this man's head will burst into seven pieces." They said, "Then, Sir, what are we to do?" "Bring me a lump of clay." They brought it. "Now place it upon the head of this ascetic, and let the ascetic down into the water." After making these arrangements, he let the sun rise. No sooner was the sun set free 2, the lump of clay split in seven, and the ascetic plunged under the water. Having thus humbled him, the Great Being pondered: "Where now are those sixteen thousand brahmins?" He perceived they were with the king of Mejjha, and resolved to humble them; by his supernatural power he alighted in the neighbourhood of the city, and bowl in hand tramped the city seeking alms. When the brahmins descried him, they said, "Let him stay here but a couple of days, and he will leave us without a refuge!" In all haste they went to the king, crying, "O mighty king, here is a juggler and mountebank come: take him prisoner!" The king was ready enough. The Great Being, with his mess of mixt victuals, was sitting beside a wall, on a

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bench, and eating. There, as he was busy partaking of the food, the king's messengers found him, and striking him with a sword, killed him. After his death, he was born in the Brahma world. It is said that in this birth the Bodhisatta was a  1mongoose-tamer, and in this servile occupation was put to death. The deities were angry, and poured down upon the whole kingdom of Mejjha a torrent of hot ashes, and wiped it out from among kingdoms. Therefore it is said:

"So the whole nation was destroyed of Mejjha, as they say,
For glorious Mātaṅga's death, the kingdom swept away."

[390] When the Master had ended this discourse, he said: "It is not now the first time that Udena has abused religious men, but he did the same before." Then he identified the Birth: "At that time, Udena was Maṇḍavya, and I myself was the wise Mātaṅga."


235:1 Also a name of a man of the Caṇḍāla caste, which was the lowest.

235:2 Lit. "one who has seen good omens."

237:1 Reading assa.

238:1 Adding sā, with one MS.

238:2 Part of the Himalaya region.

239:1 The last two lines occur on p. 205 (above, p. 128).

241:1 These two lines occur above, p. 313 (p. 197 of this volume).

243:1 The Indians use a fibrous stick for cleansing the teeth.

243:2 Taking pahata- as used for pahīna-.

The Jataka, Vol. IV: No. 498.: Citta-Sambhūta-Jātaka.

The Jataka, Vol. IV, tr. by W.H.D. Rouse, [1901], at

No. 498.


"Every good deed," etc.—This story the Master told while dwelling in Jetavana, about two fellow-priests of the reverend Mahā-kassapa, who lived happily together. This pair, we are told, were most friendly, and had share for share in all things with the utmost fairness: even when they walked for alms, together they went out and together came in, nor could they endure to be apart. In the Hall of Truth sat the Brethren, praising their friendship, when the Master came in, and asked what they talked of as they sat there. They told him; and he replied, "Their friendship in one existence, Brethren, is nothing to wonder at; for wise men of old kept friendliness unbroken throughout three or four different existences." So saying, he told them a story of the past.

Once upon a time, in the realm of Avanti, and the city of Ujjenī, reigned a great king named King Avanti. At that time, a Caṇḍāla village lay outside Ujjenī, and there the Great Being was born. Another person was born the son of his mother's sister. The one of these two was named Citta, and the other Sambhūta.

These two when they grew up, having learnt what is called the art of sweeping in the Caṇḍāla breed, thought one day they would go and show off this art at the city gate. So one of them showed off at the north gate, and one at the east. Now in this city were two women wise in the omens

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of sight, the one a merchant's daughter and the other a chaplain's. These went forth to make merry in the park, having ordered food to be brought hard and soft, garlands and perfumes; and it so happened that one went out by the northern gate and one the eastern. Seeing the two young Caṇḍālas showing their art, the girls asked "Who are these?" Caṇḍālas, they were informed. "This is an evil omen to see!" they said, 1 3 and after washing their eyes with perfumed water, they returned back. Then the multitude cried, "O vile outcasts, you have made us lose food and strong drink which would have cost us nothing!" They belaboured the two kinsmen, and did them much misery and mischief. When they recovered their senses, up they got and joined company, and told each the other what woe had befallen him, weeping and wailing, and wondering what to do now. "All this misery has come upon us," they thought, because of our birth. We shall never be able to play the part of Caṇḍālas; let us conceal our birth, and go to Takkasilā in the disguise of young brahmins, and study there." Having made this decision, they went thither, and followed their studies in the law under a far-famed master. A rumour was blown abroad over India, that two young Caṇḍālas were students, and had concealed their birth. The wise Citta was successful in his studies, but Sambhūta not so.

One day a villager invited the teacher, intending to offer food to the brahmins. Now it happened that rain fell in the night, and flooded all the hollows in the road. Early in the morning the teacher summoned wise Citta, and said, "My lad, I cannot go, do you go with the young men, and pronounce a blessing, eat what you get for yourself and bring home what there is for me." Accordingly he took the young brahmins, and went. While the young men bathed, and rinsed their mouths, the people prepared rice porridge, which they set ready for them, saying, "Let it cool." Before it was cool, the young men came and sat down. The people gave them the water of offering, and set the bowls in front of them. Sambhūta's wits were somewhat muddled, and imagining it to be cool, took up a ball of the rice and put it in his mouth, but it burnt him like a red-hot ball of metal. In his pain he forgot his part altogether, and glancing at wise Citta, he said, in the Caṇḍāla dialect; "Hot, aint it?" 2 3 The other forgot himself too, and answered in their manner of speech, "Spit it out, spit it out." At this the young men looked at each other, and said, "What kind of language is this?" Wise Citta pronounced a blessing.

When the young men came home, they gathered in little knots and sat here and there discussing the words used. Finding that it was the dialect of the Caṇḍālas, they cried out on them, "O vile outcasts! you have been tricking us all this while, and pretending to be brahmins!" And they beat them both. One good man drove them out, saying, "Away! the blot's in

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the blood. Be off! Go somewhere and become ascetics." The young brahmins told their teacher that these two were Caṇḍālas.

The pair went out into the woods, and there took up the ascetic life, and after no long time died, and were born again as the young of a doe on the banks of the Nerañjarā. From the time of their birth they always went about together. One day, when they had fed, a hunter espied them under a tree ruminating and cuddling together, very happy, head to head, nozzle to nozzle, horn to horn. He cast a javelin at them, and killed them both by one blow.

After this they were born as the young of an osprey, on the bank of Nerbudda. There too, when they grew up, after feeding they would cuddle together, head to head and beak to beak. A bird snarer saw them, caught them together, and killed them both.

Next the wise Citta was born at Kosambī, as a chaplain's son; the wise Sambhūta was born as the son of the king of Uttarapañcāla. From their name-days they could remember their former births. But Sambhūta was not able to remember all without breaks, and all he could remember was the fourth or Caṇḍāla birth; Citta however remembered all four in due order. When Citta was sixteen years old, he went away and became an ascetic in Himalaya, 3 and developed the Faculty of the religious ecstasy, and dwelt in the bliss of ecstatic trance. Wise Sambhūta after his father's death had the Umbrella spread over him, and on the very day of the umbrella ceremony, in the midst of a great concourse, made a ceremonial hymn, and uttered two stanzas in aspiration. When they heard this, the royal wives and the musicians all chanted then, saying, "Our king's own coronation hymn!" and in course of time all the citizens sang it, as the hymn which their king loved. Wise Citta, in his dwelling place in Himalaya, wondered whether his brother Sambhūta had assumed the Umbrella, or not. Perceiving that he had, he thought, "I shall never be able to instruct a young ruler; but when he is old, I will visit him, and persuade him to be an ascetic." For fifty years he went not, and by that time the king was increased with sons and daughters; then by his supernatural power, he went, and alighted in the park, and sat down on the seat of ceremony like an image of gold. Just then a lad was picking up sticks, and as he did so he sang that hymn. Wise Citta called him to approach; he came up with an obeisance, and waited. Citta said to him, "Since early morning you have been singing that hymn; do you know no other?"—"Oh yes, sir, I know many more, but these are the verses the king loves, that is why I sing no others."—"Is there any one who can sing a refrain to the king's hymn?"—"No, Sir."—"Could you?"—"Yes, if I am taught one."—"Well, when the king chants these two verses, you sing this by way of a third," and he recited a hymn. "Now," said he, "go and sing this before the king, and the king will be pleased with

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you, and make much of you for it." The lad went to his mother quickly, and got himself drest up spick and span; then to the king's door, and sent in word that a lad would sing him a refrain to his hymn. The king said, "Let him approach." When the lad had come in, and saluted him, quoth the king, "They say you will sing me an answering refrain to my hymn?" 3 4 "Yes, my lord," said he, "bring in the whole court to hear." As soon as the court had assembled, the lad said, "Sing your hymn, my lord, and I will answer with mine." The king repeated a pair of stanzas:

"Every good deed bears fruit or soon or late,
    No deed without result, and nothing vain:
I see Sambhūta mighty grown and great,
    Thus do his virtues bear him fruit again.

"Every good deed bears fruit or soon or late,
    No deed without result, and nothing vain.
Who knows if Citta also may be great,
    And like myself, his heart have brought him gain?"

At the end of this hymn, the lad chanted the third stanza:

"Every good deed bears fruit or soon or late,
    No deed without result, and nothing vain.
Behold, my lord, see Citta at thy gate,
    And like thyself, his heart has brought him gain."

On hearing this the king repeated the fourth stanza:

"Then art thou Citta, or the tale didst hear
    From him, or did some other make thee know?
Thy hymn is very sweet: I have no fear;
    A village and a bounty 1 I bestow."

[395] Then the lad repeated the fifth stanza:

"I am not Citta, but I heard the thing.
    It was a sage laid on me this command—
Go and recite an answer to the king,
    And be rewarded by his grateful hand."

Hearing this, the king thought, "It must be my brother Citta; now I'll go and see him"; then he laid his bidding upon his men in the words of these two stanzas:

"Come, yoke the royal chariots, so finely wrought and made:
Gird up with girths the elephants, in necklets bright arrayed.

"Beat drums for joy, and let the conchs be blown,
Prepare the swiftest chariots I own:
For to that hermitage I will away,
To see the sage that sits within, this day."

So he spoke; then mounting his fine chariot, he went swiftly to the park gate. There he checked his chariot, and approached wise Citta with

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an obeisance, and sat down on one side; greatly pleased, he recited the eighth stanza:

"A precious hymn it was I sang so sweet
    While thronging multitudes around me pressed;
For now this holy sage I come to greet
    And all is joy and gladness in my breast."

[396] Happy from the instant he saw wise Citta, he gave all necessary directions, bidding prepare a seat for his brother, and repeated the ninth


"Accept a seat, and for your feet fresh water: it is right
To offer gifts of food to guests: accept, as we invite."

After this sweet invitation, the king repeated another stanza, offering him the half of his kingdom:

"Let them make glad the place where thou shalt dwell,
    Let throngs of waiting women wait on thee;
O let me show thee that I love thee well,
    And let us both kings here together be."

When he had heard these words, wise Citta discoursed to him in six stanzas:

"Seeing the fruit of evil deeds, O king,
Seeing what profit deeds of goodness bring,
I fain would exercise stern self-control,
Sons, wealth, and cattle cannot charm my soul.

"Ten decades has this mortal life, which each to each succeed:
This limit reached, man withers fast like to a broken reed.

"Then what is pleasure, what is love, wealth-hunting what to me?
What sons and daughters? know, O king, from fetters I am free.

"For this is true, I know it well—death will not pass me by:
And what is love, or what is wealth, when you must come to die?

[397] "The lowest race that go upon two feet
    Are the Caṇḍālas, meanest men on earth,
When all our deeds were ripe, as guerdon meet
    We both as young Caṇḍālas had our birth.

"Caṇḍālas in Avanti land, deer by Nerañjara,
Ospreys by the Nerbudda, now brahmin and Khattiya."

[398] Having thus made clear his mean births in time past, here also in this birth he declared the impermanency of things created, and recited four stanzas to arouse an effort:

"Life is but short, and death the end must be:
The aged have no hiding where to flee.
Then, O Pañcāla, what I bid thee, do:
All deeds which grow to misery, eschew.

"Life is but short, and death the end must be:
The aged have no hiding where to flee.
Then, O Pañcāla, what I bid thee, do:
All deeds whose fruit is misery, eschew.

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"Life is but short, and death the end must be:
The aged have no hiding where to flee.
Then, O Pañcāla, what I bid thee, do:
All deeds that are with passion stained, eschew.

"Life is but short, and death the end must be:
Old age will sap our strength, we cannot flee.
Then, O Pañcāla, what I bid thee, do:
All deeds that lead to lowest hell, eschew."

[399] The king rejoiced as the Great Being spoke and repeated three stanzas:

"True is that word, O Brother! which you say,
    You like a holy saint your words dictate:
But my desires are hard to cast away,
    By such as I am; they are very great.

"As elephants deep sunken in the mire
    Cannot climb out, although they see the land:
So, sunken in the slough of strong desire
    Upon the Brethren's Path I cannot stand.

"As father or as mother would their son
    Admonish, good and happy how to grow:
Admonish me how happiness is won,
    And tell me by which way I ought to go."

Then the Great Being said to him:

"O lord of men! thou canst not cast away
    These passions which are common to mankind:
Let not thy people unjust taxes pay,
    Equal and righteous ruling let them find.

"Send messengers to north, south, east, and west
    The brahmins and ascetics to invite:
Provide them food and drink, a place to rest,
    Clothes, and all else that may be requisite.

[400] "Give thou the food and drink which satisfies
    Sages and holy brahmins, full of faith:
Who gives and rules as well as in him lies
    Will go to heaven all blameless after death.

"But if, surrounded by thy womankind
    Thou feel thy passion and desire too strong,
This verse of poetry then bear in mind
    And sing it in the midst of all the throng:

"No roof to shelter from the sky, amid the dogs he lay,
His mother nursed him as she walked: but he's a king to-day."

Such was the Great Being's advice. Then he said, "I have given you my counsel. And now do you become an ascetic or not, as you think fit; but I will follow up the result of my own deeds." Then he rose up in the air, and shook off the dust of his feet over him, and departed to Himalaya. 1 4 And the king saw it, and was greatly moved; and relinquishing his kingdom to his eldest son, he called out his army, and set his face in the direction of Himalaya. When the Great Being heard of his coming, he

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went with his attendant sages and received him, and ordained him to the holy life, and taught him the means of inducing mystic ecstasy. He developed the Faculty of mystical meditation. Thus these two together became destined for Brahma's world.

When the Master had ended his discourse, he said: "Thus, Brethren, wise men of old continued firm friends through the course of three or four existences." Then he identified the Birth: "At that time Ānanda was the wise Sambhūta, and I myself was the wise Citta."


244:1 Taking koṇḍa- to be the same as kuṇḍa-.

247:1 Lit. a hundred (pieces of money): or (with the scholiast) "A hundred villages I do bestow."

The Jataka, Vol. IV: No. 499.: Sivi-Jātaka.

The Jataka, Vol. IV, tr. by W.H.D. Rouse, [1901], at

No. 499.


"If there be any human," etc.—This story the Master told while dwelling at Jetavana, about the gift incomparable. The circumstances have been fully told in Book VIII. under the Sovīra Birth 2. But here the king, on the seventh day, gave all the requisites and asked for thanks; but the Master went away without thanking him. After breakfast the king went to the monastery, and said, "Why did you return no thanks, Sir?" The Master said, "The people were unpurified, your majesty." He went on to declare the Law, reciting the stanza that begins "To heaven the avaricious shall not go 3." The king, pleased at heart, did reverence to the Tathāgata by presenting an outer robe of the Sivi country, worth a thousand pieces of money; then he returned to the city.

Next day they were talking of it in the Hall of Truth: "Sirs, the king of Kosala gave the gift incomparable: and, not content with that, when the Dasabala had discoursed to him, the king gave him a Sivi garment worth a thousand pieces! How insatiate the king is in giving, sure enough!" The Master came in, and asked what they talked of as they sat there: they told him. He said, "Brothers, things external are acceptable, true: but wise men of old, who gave gifts till all India rang again with the fame of it, each day distributing as much as six hundred thousand pieces, were unsatisfied with external gifts; and, remembering the proverb, Give what you prize and love will arise, they even pulled out their eyes and gave to those that asked." With these words, he told a story of the past.

Once upon a time, when the mighty King Sivi reigned in the city of Ariṭṭhapura in the kingdom of Sivi, the Great Being was born as his son. They called his name Prince Sivi. When he grew up, he went

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to Takkasilā and studied there; 2 4 then returning, he proved his knowledge to his father the king, and by him was made viceroy. At his father's death he became king himself, and, forsaking the ways of evil, he kept the Ten Royal Virtues and ruled in righteousness. He caused six alms-halls to be builded, at the four gates, in the midst of the city, and at his own door. He was munificent in distributing each day six hundred thousand pieces of money. On the eighth, fourteenth, and fifteenth days he never missed visiting the alms-halls to see the distribution made.

Once on the day of the full moon, the state umbrella had been uplifted early in the morning, and he sat on the royal throne thinking over the gifts he had given. Thought he to himself, "Of all outside things there is nothing I have not given; but this kind of giving does not content me. I want to give something which is a part of myself. Well, this day when I go to the alms-hall, I vow that if any one ask not something outside me, but name what is part of myself,—if he should mention my very heart, I will cut open my breast with a spear, and as though I were drawing up a water-lily, stalk and all, from a calm lake, I will pull forth my heart dripping with blood-clots and give it him: if he should name the flesh of my body, I will cut the flesh off my body and give it, as though I were graving with a graving tool: let him name my blood, I will give him my blood, dropping it in his mouth or filling a bowl with it: or again, if one say, I can't get my household work done, come and do me a slave's part at home, then I will leave my royal dress and stand without, proclaiming myself a slave, and slave's work I will do: should any men demand my eyes, I will tear out my eyes and give them, as one might take out the pith of a palm-tree." Thus he thought within him:

"If there be any human gift that I have never made,
Be it my eyes, I'll give it now, all firm and unafraid."

Then he bathed himself with sixteen pitchers of perfumed water, and adorned him in all his magnificence, and after a meal of choice food he mounted upon an elephant richly caparisoned 3 4 and went to the alms-hall.

Sakka, perceiving his resolution, thought, "King Sivi has determined to give his eyes to any chance comer who may ask. Will you be able to do it, or no?" He determined to try him; and, in the form of a brahmin old and blind, he posted himself on a high place, and when the king came to his alms-hall he stretched out his hand and stood crying, "Long live the king!" Then the king drove his elephant towards him, and said, "What do you say, brahmin?" Sakka said to him, "O great king! in all the inhabited world there is no spot where the fame of

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your munificent heart has not sounded. I am blind, and you have two eyes." Then he repeated the first stanza, asking for an eye:

"To ask an eye the old man comes from far, for I have none:
O give me one of yours, I pray, then we shall each have one."

When the Great Being heard this, thought he, "Why that is just what I was thinking in my palace before I came! What a fine chance! My heart's desire will be fulfilled to-day; I shall give a gift which no man ever gave yet." And he recited the second stanza:

"Who taught thee hitherward to wend thy way,
O mendicant, and for an eye to pray?
    The chiefest portion of a man is this,
And hard for men to part with, so they say."

(The succeeding stanzas are to be read two and two, as may easily be seen.)

"Sujampati among the gods, the same
Here among men called Maghavā by name,
[404]    He taught me hitherward to wend my way,
Begging, and for an eye to urge my claim.

"'Tis the all-chiefest gift for which I pray 1.
Give me an eye! O do not say me nay!
    Give me an eye, that chiefest gift of gifts,
So hard for men to part with, as they say!"

"The wish that brought thee hitherward, the wish that did arise
Within thee, be that wish fulfilled. Here, brahmin, take my eyes.

"One eye thou didst request of me: behold, I give thee two!
    Go with good sight, in all the people's view;
    So be thy wish fulfilled and now come true."

So much the king said. But, thinking it not meet that he should root out his eyes and bestow them there and then, he brought the brahmin indoors with him, and sitting on the royal throne, sent for a surgeon named Sīvaka. "Take out my eye, "he then said.

Now all the city rang with the news, that the king wished to tear out his eyes and give them to a brahmin. Then the commander-in-chief, and all the other officials, and those beloved of the king, gathered together from city and harem, and recited three stanzas, that they might turn the king from his purpose:

"O do not give thine eye, my lord; desert us not, O king!
Give money, pearls and coral give, and many a precious thing:

"Give thorobreds caparisoned, forth be the chariots rolled,
O king, drive up the elephants all fine with cloth of gold:

[405] "These give, O king! that we may all preserve thee safe and sound,
Thy faithful people, with our cars and chariots ranged around."

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Hereupon the king recited three stanzas:

"The soul which, having sworn to give, is then unfaithful found,
Puts his own neck within a snare low hidden on the ground.

"The soul which, having sworn to give, is then unfaithful found,
More sinful is than sin, and he to Yama's house 1 is bound.

"Unasked give nothing; neither give the thing he asketh not,
This therefore which the brahmin asks, I give it on the spot."

Then the courtiers asked, "What do you desire in giving your eyes?" repeating a stanza:

"Life, beauty, joy, or strength—what is the prize,
O king, which motive for your deed supplies?
    Why should the king of Sivi-land supreme
For the next world's sake thus give up his eyes?"

[406] The king answered them in a stanza:

"In giving thus, not glory is my goal,
Not sons, not wealth, or kingdoms to control:
    This is the good old way of holy men;
Of giving gifts enamoured is my soul."

To the Great Being's words the courtiers answered nothing; so the Great Being addressed Sīvaka the surgeon in a stanza:

"A friend and comrade, Sīvaka, art thou:
Do as I bid thee—thou hast skill enow—
    Take 3 out my eyes, for this is my desire,
And in the beggar's hands bestow them now."

But Sīvaka said, "Bethink you, my lord! to give one's eyes is no light thing."—"Sīvaka, I have considered; 4 don't delay, nor talk too much in my presence." Then he thought, "It is not fitting that a skilful surgeon like me should pierce a king's eyes with the lancet," so he pounded a number of simples, rubbed a blue lotus with the powder, and brushed it over the right eye: round rolled the eye, and there was great pain. "Reflect, my king, I can make it all right."—"Go on, friend, no delay, please." Again he rubbed in the powder, and brushed it over the eye: the eye started from the socket, the pain was worse than before. "Reflect, my king, I can still restore it."—"Be quick with the job!" A third time he smeared a sharper powder, and applied it: by the drug's power round went the eye, out it came from the socket, and hung dangling at the end of the tendon. "Reflect, my king, I can yet restore it again."—"Be quick." The pain was extreme, blood was trickling, the king's

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garments were stained with the blood. The king's women and the courtiers fell at his feet, crying, "My lord, do not sacrifice your eyes!" loudly they wept and wailed. The king endured the pain, and said, "My friend, be quick." "Very well, my lord," said the physician; and with his left hand grasping the eyeball took a knife in his right, and severing the tendon, laid the eye in the Great Being's hand 1. He, gazing with his left eye at the right and enduring the pain, said, "Brahmin, come here." When the brahmin came near, he went on—"The eye of omniscience is dearer than this eye a hundred fold, aye a thousand fold: there you have my reason for this action," and he gave it to the brahmin, who raised it and placed it in his own eye socket. There it remained fixt by his power like a blue lotus in bloom. When the Great Being with his left eye saw that eye in his head, he cried—"Ah, how good is this my gift of an eye!" 4 and thrilled straightway with the joy that had arisen within him, he gave the other eye also. Sakka placed this also in the place of his own eye, and departed from the king's palace, and then from the city, with the gaze of the multitude upon him, and went away to the world of gods.

The Master, explaining this, repeated a stanza and a half:

"So Sivi spurred on Sīvaka, and he fulfilled his mind.
He drew the king's eyes out, and to the brahmin these consigned:
And now the brahmin had the eyes, and now the king was blind."

In a short while the king's eyes began to grow; as they grew, and before they reached the top of the holes, a lump of flesh rose up inside like a ball of wool, filling the cavity; they were like a doll's eyes, but the pain ceased. The Great Being remained in the palace a few days. Then he thought, "What has a blind man to do with ruling? I will hand over my kingdom to the courtiers, and go into my park, and become an ascetic, and live as a holy man." He summoned his courtiers, and told them what he intended to do. "One man," said he, "shall be with me, to wash my face, and so forth, and to do all that is proper, and you must fasten a cord to guide me to the retiring places." Then calling for his charioteer, he bade him prepare the chariot. But the courtiers would not allow him to go in the chariot; they brought him out in a golden litter, and set him down by the lake side, and then, guarding him all around, returned. The king sat in the litter thinking of his gift.

At that moment Sakka's throne became hot; and he pondering perceived the reason. "I will offer the king a boon," thought he, "and make his eye well again." So to that place he came; and not far off from the Great Being, he walked up and down, up and down.

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To explain this the Master recited these stanzas:

"A few days past; the eyes began to heal, and sound to appear:
The fostering king of Sivi then sent for his charioteer.

[409] "Prepare the chariot, charioteer; to me then make it known:
I go to park and wood and lake with lilies overgrown."

"He sat him in a litter by the waterside, and here
Sujampati, the king of gods, great Sakka, did appear."

"Who is that?"cried the Great Being, when he heard the sound of the footsteps. Sakka repeated a stanza:

"Sakka, the king of gods, am I; to visit thee I came:
Choose thou a boon, O royal sage! whate’er thy wish may name."

The king replied with another stanza:

"Wealth, strength, and treasure without end, these I have left behind:
O Sakka, death and nothing more I want: for I am blind."

Then Sakka said, "Do you ask death, King Sivi, because you wish to die, or because you are blind?"—"Because I am blind, my lord."—"The gift is not everything in itself, your majesty, it is given with an eye to the future. Yet there is a motive relating to this visible world. Now you were asked for one eye, and gave two; make an Act of Truth about it." Then he began a stanza:

"O warrior, lord of biped kind, declare the thing that's true:
If you the truth declare, your eye shall be restored to you."

On hearing this, the Great Being replied, "If you wish to give me an eye, Sakka, do not try any other means, but let my eye be restored as a consequence of my gift." Sakka said, "Though they call me Sakka, king of the gods, your majesty, yet I cannot give an eye to any one else; but by the fruit of the gift by thee given, and by nothing else, your eye shall be restored to you." Then the other repeated a stanza, maintaining that his gift was well given:


"Whatever sort, whatever kind of suitor shall draw near,
Whoever comes to ask of me, he to my heart is dear:
If these my solemn words be true, now let my eye appear!"

Even as he uttered the words, one of his eyes grew up in the socket. Then he repeated a couple of stanzas to restore the other:

"A brahmin came to visit me, one of my eyes to crave:
Unto that brahmin mendicant the pair of them I gave.

"A greater joy and more delight that action did afford.
If these my solemn words be true, be the other eye restored!"

On the instant appeared his second eye. But these eyes of his were neither natural nor divine. An eye given by Sakka as the brahmin, cannot be natural, we know; on the other hand, a divine eye cannot be produced in anything that is injured. 1 4 But these eyes are called the

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eyes of Truth Absolute and Perfect. At the time when they came into existence, the whole royal retinue by Sakka's power was assembled; and Sakka standing in the midst of the throng, uttered praise in a couple of stanzas:

"O fostering King of Sivi land, these holy hymns of thine
Have gained for thee as bounty free this pair of eyes divine.

"Through rock and wall, o’er hill and dale, whatever bar may be,
A hundred leagues on every side those eyes of thine shall see."

Having uttered these stanzas, poised in the air before the multitude, with a last counsel to the Great Being that he should be vigilant, Sakka returned to the world of gods. And the Great Being, surrounded by his retinue, went back in great pomp to the city, and entered the palace called Candaka, the Peacock's Eye. The news that he had got his eyes again spread abroad all through the Kingdom of Sivi. All the people gathered together to see him, with gifts in their hands. "Now all this multitude is come together," thought the Great Being, "I shall praise my gift that I gave." He caused a great pavilion to be put up at the palace gate, where he seated himself upon the royal throne, with the white umbrella spread above him. Then the drum was sent beating about the city, to collect all the trade guilds 1. Then he said, "O people of Sivi! now you have beheld these divine eyes, never eat food without giving something away!" and he repeated four stanzas, declaring the Law:

"Who, if he's asked to give, would answer no,
    Although it be his best and choicest prize?
People of Sivi thronged in concourse, ho!
    Come hither, see the gift of God, my eyes!

[412] "Through rock and wall, o’er hill and dale, whatever bar may be,
A hundred leagues on every side these eyes of mine can see.

"Self-sacrifice in all men mortal living,
    Of all things is most fine:
I sacrificed a mortal eye; and giving,
    Received an eye divine.

"See, people! see, give ere ye eat, let others have a share.
    This done with your best will and care,
    Blameless to heaven you shall repair."

In these four verses he declared the Law; and after that, every fortnight, on the holy day, even every fifteenth day, he declared the Law in these same verses without cessation to a great gathering of people. Hearing which, the people gave alms and did good deeds, and went to swell the hosts of heaven.

When the Master had ended this discourse, he said, "Thus Brethren, wise men of old gave to any chance comer, who was not content with outside gifts, even their own eyes, taken out of their head." Then he identified the Birth: "At that time Ānanda was Sīvaka the physician, Anaruddha was Sakka, the Buddha's followers were the people, and I myself was King Sivi."


250:1 See Avadāna Çātaka, iv. 4 (34), and the note on p. 127 of Feer's translation (Musée Guimet): Jātaka Mālā no. 2, Çibi Jātaka: Cariyā-piṭaka no. 8, Sivirāja-C. Milinda-pañha, iv. i. 42 (p. 179 of the translation).

250:2 This is the Āditta jātaka, No. 424 (iii. 280 of this translation).

250:3 Dhammapada, 177.

252:1 Vanibbako in line 3 seems to be written by dittography. Some genitive would be looked for, and Fausbøll's vanibbino may be right; the form occurs in iii. 312.4 (Pali).

253:1 The scholiast explains this to mean Hell.

253:2 The scholiast adds: "The supreme Buddha, while explaining the Cariyā-piṭaka to Sariputta, Captain of the Faith, to make clear the saying that omniscience was dearer even than both eyes," quoted two lines from the Cariyā-piṭaka, p. 78, 16-17, beginning na me dessā…

253:3 Reading laddha tvaṁ as two words.

254:1 This scene appears to be represented on the Stupa of Bharhut: see Cunningham, Plate XLVIII. 2.

256:1 This should strictly be -seṇiyo: perhaps all the officers or soldiers, compare ii. 12. 8, 52. 21.

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No. 500.


"Of wisdom full," etc.—This Problem of Sirimanda will be given at large in the Mahā-ummagga 1.

The Jataka, Vol. IV: No. 501.: Rohanta-Miga-Jātaka.

The Jataka, Vol. IV, tr. by W.H.D. Rouse, [1901], at

No. 501.


[413] "In fear of death," etc.—This story the Master told while dwelling in the Bamboo Grove, about the reverend Ānanda, who made renunciation of his life. This renunciation will be described in Book XXI., under the Culla-haṁsa Birth 2, the Subduing of Dhanapāla. When this reverend man had renounced his life for the Master's sake, they gossiped about it in the Hall of Truth: "Sirs, the reverend Ānanda, having attained to the detailed knowledge of the course of religious training, renounced his life for the Dasabala." The Master came in, asking what they spoke of as they sat there. They told him. Said he, "Brothers, this is not the first time he has laid down his life for my sake; he has done it before." Then he told them a story of the past.

Once upon a time, when Brahmadatta was king in Benares, his chief consort's name was Khemā. At that time the Bodhisatta was born in the Himalaya region, as a stag: golden-hued he was and beautiful, and his younger brother, named Citta-miga, or Dapple Deer, was also of the colour of gold, and so also his younger sister Sutanā. Now the Great Being's name was Rohanta, and he was king of the deer. Traversing two ranges of the mountains, in the third he lived beside a lake called Lake Rohanta, and surrounded by a herd of eighty thousand deer. He used to support his parents, who were old and blind.

Now a hunter, who lived in a village of hunters near Benares, came to the Himalayas, and saw the Great Being. He returned to his

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village, and on his death-bed told his son, "My boy, in such a part of our hunting-ground there is a golden deer; if the king should ask, you may tell him of it."

One day Queen Khemā, in the dawning, saw a dream, and this was the manner of that dream. A gold-coloured stag sat on a golden seat, and he discoursed to the queen on the Law with a honey-sweet voice, like the sound of a golden bell tinkling. She listened with great delight to this discoursing, but before the discourse was ended the deer rose and went away; and she awoke, crying out—"Catch me the stag!" The attendants, hearing her cry, burst out a-laughing. "Here's the house shut close, door and window; not even a breath of air can get in, and at such a time my lady calls out to catch her the stag!" 1 4 By this time she understood that it was a dream. But she said to herself, "If I say, it is a dream, the king will make no account of it; but if I say, it is my woman's craving, he will attend to it with all care. I will hear the discourse of the golden stag!" Then she lay down as though sick. The king came in: "What is wrong with my queen?" said he. "Oh, my lord, only my natural craving."—"What do you wish?"—"I wish to hear the discourse of a righteous golden stag."—"Why, my lady, what you crave does not exist: there is no such thing as a golden stag." She said, "If I don't get it, die I must on the spot." She turned her back on the king, and lay still. "If there is one, it shall be caught," said the king. Then he questioned his courtiers and brahmins, just as in the Peacock Birth 1, whether there were such things as golden deer. Finding that there were, he summoned the huntsmen, and asked, "Which of you has seen or heard of such a creature?" The son of the hunter we spoke of told the story as he heard it. "My man," said the king, "when you bring me this deer I will reward you richly; go and bring it here." He gave the money for his expenses, and dismissed him. The man said, "Never fear: if I cannot bring the stag I will bring his skin; if I can't get that I will bring his hair." Then the man returned home, and gave the king's money to his family. Then he went out and saw the royal stag. "Where shall I lay my snare," he mused, "so as to catch him?" He saw his chance at the drinking-place. He twisted a stout cord of leather thongs, and set it with a pole at the place where the Great Being went down to drink water.

Next day, the Great Being with the eighty thousand deer during his search for food came thither to drink water at the usual ford. Just as he was going down, he was caught in the noose. Then he thought, "If I cry out the cry of capture 2, all my troop will flee in

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terror without drinking." 1 4 5 Although he was fast at the end of the pole, he stood pretending to drink, as if he were free. When the eighty thousand deer had drunk, and now stood clear of the water, he thrice jerked at the noose, to break it if possible. The first time he cut his skin, the second time cut into his flesh, and the third time he strained a tendon, so that the snare touched the bone. Then, unable to break it, he uttered the cry of capture: all the herd of deer fled terrified in three troops. Citta-miga could not see the Great Being in any of the three troops: "This danger," thought he, "which has come upon us, has fallen on my brother." Then returning, he saw him there fast caught. The Great Being caught sight of him, and cried, "Don't stand there, brother, there is danger here!" Then, urging him to flee, he repeated the first stanza:

"In fear of death, O Cittaka, those herds of creatures flee:
Go thou with them, and linger not, for they shall live with thee."

The three stanzas which follow are said by the two alternately:

"No, no, Rohanta, I'll not go; my heart has drawn me near;
I'm ready to lay down my life, I will not leave thee here."

"Then blind, with none to care for them, our parents 1 both must die:
O go, and let them live with thee: O do not linger nigh!"

"No, no, Rohanta, I'll not go; my heart has drawn me near;
I'm ready to lay down my life, I will not leave thee here."

[416] He took his stand, supporting the Bodhisatta on the right side, and cheering him.

Sutanā also, the young doe, ran about among the deer, but could not find her brothers anywhere. "This danger," she thought, "must have fallen upon my brothers." She turned back and came to them; and the Great Being, as he saw her come, repeated the fifth stanza:

"Go, timid doe, and run away; an iron snare holds me:
Go with the rest, and linger not, and they shall live with thee."

The three next stanzas are said alternately as before:

"No, no, Rohanta, I'll not go; my heart has drawn me near;
I'm ready to lay down my life, I will not leave thee here."

"Then blind, with none to care for them, our parents both must die:
O go, and let them live with thee: O do not linger nigh!"

"No, no, Rohanta, I'll not go; my heart has drawn me near;
I'll lose my life, but never leave thee snared and captured here."

Thus she also refused to obey; and stood by his left side consoling him.

Now the huntsman saw the deer scampering off, and heard the cry of capture. "It must be the king of the herd is caught!" he said; and, tightening his girdle, he grasped the spear to give him the death,

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and ran quickly up. The Great Being repeated the ninth stanza as he saw him coming:

"The furious hunter, arms in hand, see him approaching near!
And he will slay us here to-day with arrow or with spear."

[417] Citta did not flee, though he saw the man. But Sutanā, not being strong enough to stand still, ran a little way for fear of death. Then with the thought—"Where shall I flee if I desert my two brothers?" she returned again, renouncing her own life 1, with death on her brow, and stood by the left side of her brother.

To explain this, the Master recited the tenth stanza:

"The tender doe in panic fear a little way did fly,
Then did a thing most hard to do, for she returned to die."

When the hunter came up, he saw these three creatures standing together. A pitiful thought arose in his heart, as he guessed they were brothers and sister born of one womb. "Only the king of the herd," thought he, "is caught in the snare; the other two are bound with the ties of honour. What kin can they be to him?" which question he asked thus:

"What are these deer that wait upon the prisoner, though free,
Nor for the sake of very life will leave him here, and flee?"

Then the Bodhisatta answered:

"My brother and my sister these, of one same mother born:
Nor for the sake of very life will leave me here forlorn."

These words made his heart more exceedingly soft. Citta, that royal stag, perceiving that his heart grew soft, said, "Friend hunter, do not imagine that this creature is a deer and no more. He is king of fourscore thousand deer, one of virtuous life, tenderhearted to all creatures, of great wisdom; he supports his sire and dam, now blind and old. If you slay a righteous being like this, in slaying him you slay dam and sire, my sister and me, all five; but if you grant my brother his life, you bestow life on the five of us." 1 4 Then he repeated a stanza:

"Grown blind, with none to care for them, they both will perish so:
O grant thou life to all the five, and let my brother go!"

When the hunter heard this pious discourse, he was glad at heart. "Fear not, my lord," said he, and repeated the next stanza:

"So be it: see I now set free the parent-fostering deer:
His parents when they find him safe shall make a merry cheer."

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As he said this, he thought: "What do I want with the king and his honours? If I hurt this royal deer, either the earth will gape and swallow me up, or a thunderbolt will fall and strike me. I will let him go." So approaching the Great Being, he pulled down the pole, and cut the leather thong; then he embraced the deer, and laid him close to the water, tenderly and gently loosed him out of the noose, joined the ends of the tendon, and the lips of the flesh-wound, and the edges of the skin, washed off the blood with water, pitifully chafed him again and again. By the power of his love and the Great Being's perfection all grew whole again, sinews, flesh, and skin: hide and hair covered the foot: no one could have guessed where he had been wounded. The Great Being stood there, full of happiness. Citta looked on him and rejoiced, and rendered thanks to the hunter in this stanza:

"Hunter, be happy now, and may thy kindred happy be,
As I am happy to behold the mighty stag set free."

Now the Great Being thought, "Is it of his own doing this hunter snared me, or at the bidding of another?" and he asked the cause of his capture. The huntsman said: "My lord, I have nothing to do with you; but the king's consort, Khemā, desires to hear you discourse of righteousness; therefore I snared you at the king's bidding."—"That being so, my good friend, you did a bold thing to set me free. 1 4 Come, bring me to the king, and I will discourse before the queen."—"Indeed, my lord, kings are cruel. Who knows what may come of it? I don't care for any honour the king might show me: go where you will." But again the Great Being thought it was a bold thing to set him free; he must give him a chance of winning the promised honour. So he said, "Friend, chafe my back with your hand." He did so; his hand became covered with golden hairs. "What shall I do with these hairs, my lord?"—"Take them, my friend, show them to the king and queen, tell them here are hairs from that golden stag; take my place, and discourse to them in the words of these verses I shall repeat: when she hears you, that will alone be sufficient to satisfy her craving." "Recite the Law, O king!" said the man; and the other taught him ten stanzas of the holy life, and described the Five Virtues, and dismissed him with a warning to be vigilant. The hunter treated the Great Being as one would treat a teacher: thrice he walked round him right-wise, did the four obeisances, and wrapping the hairs in a lotus leaf went away. The three animals accompanied him for a little way, then after feeding and drinking, returned to their parents.

Father and mother questioned him: "Rohanta, my son, we heard you were caught, and how came you free?" They put the question in a stanza:

"How didst thou win thy liberty when life was nearly done:
How did the hunter set thee free from treacherous trap, my son?"

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In answer to which the Bodhisatta repeated three stanzas:

"Cittaka won me liberty with words that charmed the ear,
That touched the heart, that pierced the heart, words uttered sweet and clear.

"Sutanā won me liberty with words that charmed the ear,
That touched the heart, that pierced the heart, words uttered sweet and clear.

[420] "The hunter gave me liberty, these charming words to hear,
That touched the heart, that pierced the heart, words uttered sweet and clear."

His parents expressed their gratitude, saying:

"He with his wife and family, O happy may they be,
As we are happy to behold Rohanta now set free!"

Now the huntsman came out of the wood, and went to the king; then saluting him stood on one side. The king when he saw him said:

"Come tell me, hunter: dost thou say, "See the deer's hide I bring":
Or hast thou no deer's hide to show because of any thing?"

The hunter replied:

"Into my hands the creature came, into my privy snare,
And was fast caught: but others, free, attended on him there.

"Then pity made my flesh to creep, a pity strange and new.
If I should slay this deer (thought I) then I shall perish too."

"What were these deer, O hunter, what their nature and their ways,
What colour theirs, what quality, to merit such high praise?"

The king put this question several times over, as one much astonished. The hunter replied in this stanza:


"With silvery horns and graceful shape, with hide and fell most bright,
Red slot, and shining brilliant eyes all lovely to the sight."

As he repeated this stanza, the huntsman placed in the king's hand those golden hairs of the Great Being, and in another verse summed up the description of the character of these deer:

"Such is their nature and their ways, my lord, and such these deer:
They used to find their parents food: I could not fetch them here."

In these words he described the qualities of the Great Being, and of the stag Citta, and of Sutanā the doe; adding this, "The royal stag, O king, showed me his hairs, commanding me to take his place, and to declare the Law before the queen in ten stanzas of a holy life 1."[422] Then sitting upon a golden throne, he declared the Law in those stanzas.

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[paragraph continues] The queen's craving was satisfied. The king was pleased, and repeated these stanzas, as he rewarded the huntsman with great honour

"A jewelled earring give I thee, a hundred drachms of gold,
A lovely throne like flower of flax, with cushions laid fourfold 1,

"Two wives of equal rank and worth, a bull and kine five score,
My benefactor! and I'll rule with justice evermore.

"Trade, farming, gleaning 2, usury, whate’er thy calling be,
See that thou sin not, but by these support thy family."

[423] When he heard these words of the king's, he answered, "No house or home for me; grant me, my lord, to become an ascetic." The king's consent given, he handed over the king's rich gifts to his wife and family, and went away to Himalaya, where he embraced the ascetic life, and cultivated the Eight Attainments, and became destined for Brahma's world. And the king clave to the Great One's teaching, and went to swell the hosts of heaven. The teaching endured for a thousand yèars.

This discourse ended, the Master said, "Thus, Brethren, long ago as now Ānanda renounced life for my sake." Then he identified the Birth: "At that time, Channa was the huntsman and Sāriputta the king, a sister was Queen Khemā; some of the king's family were the father and mother, Uppalavaṇṇā was Sutanā, Ānanda was Citta, the Sākiya clan were the eighty thousand deer, and I was myself the royal stag Rohanta."

"To friends and courtiers, warrior king, do righteously; and so
By following a righteous life to heaven the king shall go.

"In war and travel, warrior king, do righteously; and so
By following a righteous life to heaven the king shall go.

"In town and village, warrior king, do righteously; and so
By following a righteous life to heaven the king shall go.

"In every land and realm, O king, do righteously; and so
By following a righteous life to heaven the king shall go.

"To brahmins and ascetics all, do righteously; and so
By following a righteous life to heaven the king shall go.

"To beasts and birds, O warrior king, do righteously; and so
By following a righteous life to heaven the king shall go.

"Do righteously, O warrior king; from this all blessings flow:
By following a righteous life to heaven the king shall go.

"With watchful vigilance, O king, on paths of goodness go:
The brahmins, Indra, and the gods have won their godhead so.

"These are the maxims told of old: and following wisdom's ways
The goddess of all happiness herself to heaven did raise."

In this manner did the huntsman declare the Law, as the Great Being had shown him, with a Buddha's skill, as though he were bringing down to earth the heavenly Ganges. The crowd with a thousand voices cried approval. The queen's longing was satisfied when she heard the discourse.


257:1 No. 546, vol. vi. 329 (Pali).

257:2 No. 533, vol. v. 333 (Pali).

258:1 Mora jātaka: No. 129, Vol. ii. p. 53.

258:2 Correct vol. ii. 153 (trans. p. 109) and iii. 184 (p. 122), where it is translated (with Childers) "loud and long," "a succession of cries."

259:1 The word "parents" is supplied by the scholiast: it is "those" in the text.

260:1 i.e. accepting death as her fate (written on the forehead).

262:1 The Burmese recension reads: Then the king seated him on his royal throne inlaid with seven kinds of jewels; and sitting himself with his queen on a lowly seat, placed to one side, with a reverential obeisance, he begged him to speak. The hunter spoke thus, declaring the Law:

"Unto thy parents, warrior king, do righteously; and so
By following a righteous life to heaven the king shall go.

"To wife and child, O warrior king, do righteously; and so
By following a righteous life to heaven the king shall go.

263:1 catussado is so explained by the scholiast. On p. 309. 26 (=p. 195 note 2 above) he paraphrases it as "rich in four different things" there specified. The word ussado is derived by Childers from Skt. utsad and rendered "protuberance." It also may mean "sprinkled" or "covered" (Skt. utsādita), iii. 512. 10, iv. 60. 6.

263:2 The MS. uñchācariyāya gives a syllable too many, and should perhaps be uñchācariyā, then the sentence is anacoluthic.

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No. 502.


"There go the birds," etc.—This story the Master told while dwelling in the Bamboo Grove, about Elder Ānanda's renunciation of life. Then also the Brethren were talking in the Hall of Truth about the Elder's good qualities, when the Master came in and asked them what they sat talking of there. He said, "This is not the first time, Brethren, that Ānanda has renounced his life for my sake, but he did the same before." And then he told them a story of the past.

Once upon a time, there reigned in Benares a king named Bahuputtaka, or the Father of Many Sons, and his Queen Consort was Khemā. At that time the Great Being dwelt on Mount Cittakūṭa, and he was the chief of ninety thousand wild geese, having come to life as a golden goose. 2 4 And at that time, as already recounted, the queen saw a dream, and told the king she had conceived a woman's craving to hear a Golden Goose discourse of the Law. When the king enquired, were there any such creatures as golden geese, he was told yes, there were on Mount Cittakūṭa. Then he had made a lake which he called Khemā, and caused to be planted all manner of food-corn, and daily in the four quarters made proclamation of immunity to be cried, and sent forth a hunter to catch geese. How this man was sent forth, and his watching of the birds, and how news was told the king when the golden geese came, and in what manner the snare was set and the Great Being was caught in the snare, how Sumukha chief captain of the geese saw him not in the three divisions of the geese, and returned, all this will be set forth in the Mahāhaṁsa Birth 1. Now as then the Great Being was caught in the noose and stick; and even as he hung in the noose at the end of the stick, he stretched forth his neck looking along the way that the geese had gone, and espying Sumukha as he came, thought, "When he comes I will put him to the test." So when he came, the Great Being repeated three stanzas:

"There go the birds, the ruddy geese, all overcome with fear:
O golden-yellow Sumukha, depart! what want you here?

"My kith and kin deserted me, away they all have flown,
Without a thought they fly away: why are you left alone?

"Fly, noble bird! with prisoners no fellowship can be:
Sumukha, fly! nor lose the chance while you may yet be free."

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[425] To which Sumukha replied, sitting on the mud—

"No, I'll not leave you, Royal Goose, when trouble draweth nigh:
But stay I will, and by your side will either live or die."

Thus Sumukha, with a lion's note; and Dhataraṭṭha answered with this stanza:

"A noble heart, brave words are these, Sumukha, which you say:
’Twas but to put you to the test I bade you fly away."

As they were thus conversing together, up comes the huntsman, staff in hand, at the top of his speed. Sumukha encouraged Dhataraṭṭha, and flew to meet the man, respectfully declaring the virtues of the royal bird. Immediately the hunter's heart was softened; which Sumukha perceiving, went back, and stood encouraging the king of the geese. And the hunter approaching the king of the geese, recited the sixth stanza:

"They foot it by unfooted ways, birds flying in the sky:
And did you not, O noble Goose, afar the snare espy?"

The Great Being said:

"When life is coming to an end, and death's hour draws anigh,
Though you may close upon it come nor trap nor snare you spy 1."

[426] The hunter, pleased with the bird's remark, then addressed three stanzas to Sumukha.

"There go the birds, the ruddy geese, all overcome with fear:
And you, O golden-yellow fowl, are still left waiting here.

"They ate and drank, the ruddy geese: uncaring, they are flown;
Away they scurry through the air, and you are left alone.

"What is this fowl, that when the rest deserting him have flown,
Though free, you join the prisoner—why are you left alone?"

Sumukha replied:

"He is my comrade, friend, and king, dear as my life is he:
Forsake him—no, I never will, until death calls for me."

On hearing this the hunter was much pleased, and thought within him—"If I should harm virtuous creatures like these, the earth would gape open and swallow me up. What care I for the king's reward? I will set them free." And he repeated a stanza:

"Now seeing that for friendship's sake you are prepared to die,
I set your king and comrade free, to follow where you fly."

This said, he drew down Dhataraṭṭha from the stick, and loosed the noose, and took him to the bank, and pitifully washed the blood from him, 2 4 and set the dislocated muscles and tendons. And by reason of his

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kindness of heart, and by the might of the Great Being's Perfections 1, on the instant his foot became whole again, and not a mark showed where he had been caught. Sumukha beheld the Great Being with joy, and gave thanks in these words:

"With all your kindred and your friends, O hunter, happy be 2,
As I am happy to behold the King of birds set free."

When the hunter heard this, he said, "Now you may depart, friend." Then the Great Being said to him, "Did you capture me for your own purposes, my good sir, or at the bidding of another?" He told him the facts. The other wondered whether it were better to return to Cittakūṭa, or go to the town. "If I go to the town," he thought, "the hunter will be rewarded, the queen's craving will be appeased, Sumukha's friendship will be made known, then also by virtue of my wisdom I shall receive the lake Khemā, as a free gift. It is better therefore to go to the city." This determined, he said, "Huntsman, take us on your carrying-pole to the king, and he shall set me free if he will."—"My lord, kings are hard; go your ways."—"What! I have softened a hunter like thee, and shall I not find favour with a king? Leave that to me; your part, friend, is to convey us to him." The man did so.

When the king set eyes on the geese, he was delighted. He placed both the geese on a golden perch, gave them honey and fried grain to eat and sweetened water to drink, and holding his hands out in supplication prayed them to speak of the Law. The king of the geese seeing how eager he was to hear first addressed him in pleasant words. These are the stanzas expressing the converse of king and goose one with another.

Now has his honor health and wealth, and is the kingdom full
Of welfare and prosperity, and does he justly rule?"

[428] "O here is health and wealth, O Goose, and here's a kingdom full
Of welfare and prosperity, with just and righteous rule."

"Is there no blemish seen amid your court, and are your foes
Far off; and like the shadow on the south, which never grows 3?"

"There is no blemish seen amid my courtiers, and my foes
Far off are like the shadow on the south, which never grows 3."

"And is your queen of equal birth, obedient, sweet of speech,
Fruitful, fair, famous, waiting on your wishes, doing each?"

"O yes, my queen's of equal birth, obedient, sweet of speech,
Fruitful, fair, famous, waiting on my wishes, doing each."

"O fostering ruler! have you sons a many, nobly bred,
Quickwitted, easy men to please whatever thing be sped?"

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"O Dhataraṭṭha! sons I have of fame, five score and one:
Tell them their duty: they'll not leave your good advice undone."

On hearing this, the Great Being gave them admonition in five stanzas:

"He that puts off until too late the effort to do good,
Though nobly bred, with virtue dowered, yet sinks beneath the flood.

[429] "His knowledge fades, great loss is his; as one moonblind at night 1
Sees all things swollen twice their size with his imperfect sight.

"Who sees the truth in falsity no wisdom gains at all,
As on a rugged mountain-path the deer will often fall.

"If any strong courageous man loves virtue, follows right,
Though but a low-born churl, he burns like bonfires in the night.

"By using this similitude all wisdom's truths explain,
Cherish your sons till wise they grow, like seedlings in the rain."

[430] Thus did the Great Being discourse to the king the livelong night. The queen's craving was appeased. By sunrise he established him in the virtues of kings, and exhorted him to be vigilant, then with Sumukha flew out of the northern window and to Cittakūṭa away.

After this discourse, the Master said, "Thus, Brethren, this man offered his life for me before," and then he identified the Birth: "At that time Channa was the huntsman, Sāriputta the king, a sister was Queen Khemā, the Sākiya tribe was the flock of geese, Ānanda was Sumukha, and I was the Goose King myself."


264:1 No. 534, where the king of the geese is named Dhataraṭṭha.

265:1 This couplet occurs in ii. 52 (p. 35 of translation), and iii. 331 (p. 204,"When ruin…").

266:1 The Ten Perfections of the Bodhisatta are given in Childers' Dictionary, p. 335 a.

266:2 This line occurs in iii. 331 (p. 204 of translation, "O hunter…").

266:3 The last three words come from the scholiast's note.

The Jataka, Vol. IV: No. 503.: Sattigumba-Jātaka.

The Jataka, Vol. IV, tr. by W.H.D. Rouse, [1901], at

No. 503.


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

p. 268

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

Once upon a time, a king named Pañcāla reigned in the city of Uttara-Pañcāla. The Great Being was born as the son of the king of the Parrots, in a grove of silk-cotton trees which grew on a high table-land in the heart of a forest: there were two brothers. Up wind from this hill was a robber village, where five hundred robbers dwelt: under its lee was a hermitage with five hundred sages.

About the time when the parrots were moulting came a whirlwind that carried off one of the parrots, 1 3 4 and he fell in the robber village among the robbers' weapons: and because he fell there, they called him Sattigumba, or Bristling Spears. The other parrot fell in the hermitage, among the flowers which grew on a sandy spot, from which cause he was named Pupphaka, the Flower-bird. Sattigumba grew up amongst the robbers, Pupphaka with the sages.

One day the king in brave array, at the head of a great company, drove out in his splendid chariot to hunt the deer. Not far from the city, he entered a grove beautiful with a rich crop of flowers and fruit. He said, "If any one lets a deer go by him, he shall answer it!" Then he descended from the chariot, and took cover, standing, bow in hand in the hut assigned him. The beaters beat the bushes to put up the game. An antelope rose and looked for a way; he saw a gap by the king, got through it, and away. Everyone asked who had let the deer go past. It was the king! Hearing this they went and made fun of him. The king in his self-conceit could not stomach the sport. "Now I'll catch that deer!" cried he, and up into his chariot. "Full speed!" he said to the charioteer, and away he went after the deer. So quick went the king, that the others could not keep up with him: king and charioteer, these two alone, went on till midday, but saw no deer. The king then turned back; and seeing near the robber village a delightful glen, he alighted, bathed and drank, and came up from the water. Then the charioteer brought out a rug from the chariot, and spread it beneath the shade of a tree; the king lay on it, the charioteer sat at his feet chafing them: the king now dozed, now awoke. The people of the robber village, all the robbers even, had gone forth into the woods to attend the king: thus in the village no one was left but Sattigumba and the cook, a man named Patikolamba. At that moment Sattigumba coming out of

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

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

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

"Lo, he beholds within the wood a shelter thieves had made,
Out came a Parrot and forthwith these cruel words he said:—

"'A young man riding in a car, with jewels many a one,
And on his brow a golden crown shines ruddy like the sun!

"Both king and driver lie asleep there in the high midday:
Come, let us spoil them of their wealth and take it quick away!

"’Tis quiet as the deep midnight: both king and driver sleep:
Their wealth and jewels let us take and keep,
Kill them, and pile boughs on them in a heap."

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

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

The bird answered in another stanza:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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So he raved, fluttering to and fro: meanwhile in due course the king came to the hermitage of the sages. At that time the sages were all gone gathering fruits and roots, 3 4 and only the Parrot Puppha 1 was left in the hermitage. When he saw the king, he went to meet him, and addressed him courteously.

Then the Master recited four stanzas to explain:

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

"The tindook and the piyal leaves, and kāsumārī sweet 2,
Though few and little, take the best we have, O King, and eat.

"And this cool water, from a cave high hidden on a hill,
O mighty monarch, take of it, drink if it be thy will.

"All gleaning in the wood are they who here are wont to live:
Arise, O King, thyself and take: I have no hands to give."

The king pleased at this courteous address, answered with a couple of stanzas:

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

"O let him not go hence alive, O come and slay or bind!
He cried: I sought this hermitage, and safety here I find."

Thus addressed by the king, Pupphaka uttered two stanzas:

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

"For Sattigumba to the thieves, I to the sages came;
Those bad, these good, and hence it comes our ways are not the same."

[435] He then explained the differences in detail, repeating a pair of stanzas:

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

"Here self-control, sobriety, kindness, the right and true,
Shelter and drink for strangers: these were round me as I grew."

Next he declared the Law to the king in the following stanzas:

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

"Like as the comrade one admires, like as the chosen friend,
Such will become the man who keeps beside him, in the end.

"Friendship makes like, and touch by touch infects, you'll find it true:
Poison the arrow, and ere long the quiver's poisoned too.

p. 271

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

[436] "Sweet frankincense wrap in a leaf, the leaf will smell as sweet.
So they themselves will soon grow wise, that sit at wise men's feet.

"By this similitude the wise should his own profit know,
Let him eschew bad company and with the righteous go:
Heaven waits the righteous, but the bad are doomed to hell below."

The king was pleased with this exposition. Then the sages returned also. The king greeted the sages, saying, "Be gracious, sirs, come and take up your abode in my grounds," and prevailed on them to accept the invitation. When he got home again, he proclaimed immunity for all parrots. The sages came thither too and visited him. And the king gave them his park to live in, and took care of them so long as he lived. When he went to swell the hosts of heaven, his son had the royal umbrella raised over him, and he also took care of the sages, and so it went on from father to son through seven generations of kings all bounteous in alms. And the Great Being dwelt in the woods, until he passed away according to his deeds.

When this lesson was ended, the Master said, "Thus, Brethren, you see that Devadatta kept bad company before, as he now does." Then he identified the Birth: "At that time, Devadatta was Sattigumba, 3 4 his followers were the robbers, Ānanda was the king, the Buddha's followers were the sages, and I myself was Parrot Pupphaka."


267:1 Nyctalops.

267:2 Comp. no. 513 (Jayaddisa) in vol. v.

267:3 Hardy, Manual, p. 320.

269:1 "He means the robber chief's wife, who went about clad in a garment of branches. "My mother is naked": why do you despise the robber's trade?"—Scholiast. The Juāngs or Patuas in Orissa, or "leaf-wearers," wear only a bunch of leaves tied before and behind.

270:1 Sic.

270:2 Diospyros embryopteris and Buchanania latifolia are named.

The Jataka, Vol. IV: No. 504.: Bhallāṭiya-Jātaka.

The Jataka, Vol. IV, tr. by W.H.D. Rouse, [1901], at

No. 504.


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

p. 272

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

Once upon a time, a king named Bhallāṭiya reigned in Benares. Seized with a desire to eat venison broiled on charcoal, he gave the kingdom in charge to his courtiers, girt himself with the five weapons, and with a well-trained pack of clever pedigree hounds he issued forth from the city and went to Himalaya. He travelled along the Ganges until he could get no higher, then followed a tributary stream for some distance, killing deer and pig, and eating the flesh broiled, until he had climbed to a great height. There when the pleasant stream ran full, the water was breast-high, but at other times, it was no more than knee-deep. At that time there were fish and tortoises of all sorts gambolling, sand at the water's edge like silver, trees on both banks bending beneath a load of flowers and fruit, many a bird and bee well drunken with the juice of fruit and honey of flowers flitted about in the shade, whither herds of all manner of deer did frequent. Now on the bank of this beautiful mountain stream 3 4 two fairies fondly embraced and kissed one another, then fell a weeping and wailing most pitifully.

As the king climbed Mount Gandhamādana by way of this river bank, he espied these two fairies. "What can they be weeping about in this manner?" thought he. "I will question them." A glance to his hounds, a snap of the fingers, and at this sign the thoroughbred dogs, which knew their work well, crept into the underwood and crouched down on their bellies. As soon as he saw they were out of the way, he laid down his bow and quiver and other weapons by a tree that stood near, and without letting his footsteps be heard stole gently up to the fairies, and asked them, "Why do you weep?"

To explain this, the Master repeated three stanzas:

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

"Straight he quiets every hound,
Lays bow and quiver on the ground,
    Forward steps, to ask a question
Where a pair of fays were found.

"'Winter's gone: then why return
To talk and talk beside the burn?
    O you human-seeming creatures,
What men call you I would learn."

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

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

Then the king recited three stanzas:

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

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

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

The stanzas which follow were said by each in course of address and answer:

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

"Why then spend that night alone
Which cost you many a sigh and groan,
[440]    O you human-seeing creatures—
Money lost? a father gone?"

"Shaded thick yon river flows
Between the rocks: a storm arose:
    Then with anxious care to find me
Right across my loved one goes.

"All the while with busy feet
I gathered thyme and meadowsweet 3
    All to make my love a garland
And myself, when we should meet.

"Clustering harebell, violet blue,
And white narcissus fresh with dew,
    All to make my love a garland
And myself, when we should meet.

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

"Flowers next and leaves I found,
And strewed them thickly on the ground,
    Where the livelong night together
We might slumber soft and sound.

"Sandal and sweet woods anon
I pounded small upon a stone,
    Perfume for my love's limbs making,
Sweetest perfume for my own.

"By the river flowing fast
I gathered lilies 1 to the last:
[441]    Evening came—the river swelling
Made it hopeless to get past.

"There we stood on either shore,
Each on other gazing o’er.
    How we laughed and cried together!
Ah! that night we suffered sore.

"Morning came, the sun was high
And soon we saw the river dry.
    Then we crossed, and close embracing
Both at once we laugh and cry.

"Seven hundred years but three
Since we were parted, I and he.
    When two loving hearts are severed
Seems a whole long life to be."

"What the limit of your years?
If this by rumour old appears.
    Or the teaching of the elders,
Tell it me, and have no fears."

"A thousand summers, strong and hale,
Never deadly pains assail,
    Little sorrow, bliss abundant,
To the end love's joys prevail."

[442] The king thought as he listened, "These creatures, who are less than human, go weeping for seven hundred years for one night's parting: and here am I, lord of a realm of three hundred leagues, leaving all my magnificence and wandering about the forest. It is a great mistake." He returned immediately. Arrived at Benares, the courtiers asked him whether he had seen any marvellous thing in the Himalayas. 3 4 He told them the whole story, and thenceforward gave alms and enjoyed his wealth.

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Explaining this matter, the Master repeated this stanza:

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

Two more stanzas he added:

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

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

Now rose the Lady Mallikā from her couch, when she heard the Tathāgata's admonition, and joining hands she made reverent obeisance, while she repeated the last stanza:

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

[444] Ever afterwards the King of Kosala lived with her in harmony.

This discourse ended, the Master identified the Birth: "At that time the King of Kosala was the fairy, Lady Mallikā was his mate, and I myself was King Bhallāṭiya."


271:1 The pretty story of King Pasenadi and this "beggar-maid" is told in Hardy's Manual, p. 285. For this introduction cf. no. 306 in vol. iii.

273:1 The names given are Mallaṁgiri, Tikūṭa, Paṇḍaraka.

273:2 Reading ti for va with one MS.

273:3 The flowers given in the translation are not the same as those named in the text, which proudly defy English verse. Amongst them are: Alangium Hexapetalum, Gaertnera Racemosa, Cassia Fistula, Bignonia Suaveolens, Vitex Nigundo, Shorea Robusta.

274:1 Pterospermum Acerifolium.

The Jataka, Vol. IV: No. 505.: Somanassa-Jataka.

The Jataka, Vol. IV, tr. by W.H.D. Rouse, [1901], at

No. 505.


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

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

p. 276

seasoning, he came to Uttarapañcāla, and then abode in the royal park. Seeking alms with his people, he came to the king's door, and the king beholding the sages and being pleased with their manners, invited them to be seated upon a magnificent dais, and gave them good food to eat. He then asked them to remain in his park for the rain-season. He accompanied them into the park, and provided places to dwell in, gave them the things necessary for the religious life, and took leave of them. After that they all received their meals in the palace. Now the king was childless, and desired sons, but no sons were born to him.

When the season of rains was over, Mahārakkhita said, "Now the Himalaya region is pleasant; let us return thither." Then he took leave of the king, who showed them all honour and bounty, and departed. On the journey at noontide he left the high road, and with his people sat down on the soft grass beneath a shady tree. The ascetics began to talk. "There is no son," they said, "in the palace to keep up the royal line. It would be a blessing if the king could get a son, and continue the succession." Mahārakkhita hearing their talk, pondered: 4 5 "Will the king have a son, or no?" He perceived that the king would have a son, and said, "Do not be anxious, sirs; this night at dawn a son of the gods will come down, and will be conceived by the queen consort." A sham ascetic heard it, and thought—"Now I will become a confidant of the royal house." When the time came for the ascetics to leave, he lay down and made as though he were sick. "Come, let us go," they said. "I cannot," said he. Mahārakkhita learnt why the man lay still. "Follow us when you can," he said, and with the rest of the sages went on to Himalaya.

Now the cheat ran back as fast as he could, and standing at the palace door, sent in a message that one of Mahārakkhita's attendants was come. He was summoned at once by the king, and going up to the terrace, sat in a seat which they showed him. The king greeted him, and sitting on one side, asked after the health of the sages. "You have come back very soon," he said; "what is the cause of your so speedy return?" "O mighty king," he replied, "as the sages were all sitting comfortably together, they began to say how great a blessing it would be if the king could have a son to keep up his line. When I heard it, I pondered whether the king should get a son or no; and by divine vision I beheld a mighty son of the gods, and saw that he was about to descend, that he might be conceived by your queen consort Sudhammā. Then I thought, If they know not, they may perchance destroy the life conceived, so I must tell them; and to tell you the news, O king, I am come. Now I have told it, let me depart again." "No, no, friend," quoth the king, "that must not be"; and highly delighted he brought the cheat into his park, and assigned him a place to dwell in. Thenceforward he lived in the king's household, and got his food there, and his name was Dibbacakkhuka, the man of Divine Vision.

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Then the Bodhisatta came down from the heaven of the Thirty-three, and was conceived there; and when he was born they gave him the name of Somanassa Kumāra, Prince Delight, and he was reared after the manner of princes.

Now the false ascetic in a corner of the park used to plant vegetables and pot-herbs and runners, and by selling these to the market gardeners he amassed much wealth. When the Bodhisatta was seven years old, 4 6 there was a rebellion on the frontier. The king went out to quell it, giving the ascetic Dibbacakkhuka into the prince's charge, with orders not to neglect him. One day the prince went out to see the ascetic. He found him with both yellow robes, upper and under, knotted up, holding a water jar in each hand, and watering his plants. "This false ascetic," thought he, "instead of doing the ascetic's duty, does the work of a gardener." Then he asked—"What are you doing, gardener, worldling?" So he put him to shame, and left him without salute. "Now I have made an enemy of this fellow," thought the man. "Who knows what he will do? I must make an end of him at once."

About the time when the king was to return, the man threw his stone bench on one side, broke his waterpot to bits, scattered grass about in his hut, smeared all his body with oil, went into the hut and lay down on his pallet, wrapped up head and all, making as though he were in much pain. The king returned, and made a circuit about the city right-wise. But before he would enter his own house, he went to see his friend Dibbacakkhuka. Standing by the door of the hut, he saw all in disorder, and entered wondering what was the matter. There was the man lying down. The king chafed his feet, repeating the first stanza:

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

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

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

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

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

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

p. 278

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

"They heard his prayer, and to the King his son the servants led.
He saw his father from afar, and thus to him he said:

"Let thy men take sword and slay,
Only hear me first, I pray!
O great monarch! tell me this—
What is it I've done amiss?"

[448] The king answered, "High estate is fallen very low: your error is very great," and explained it in this stanza:

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

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

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

"And that is the reason," he went on, "why I called him a worldling. If you do not believe me, enquire of the market gardeners at the four gates." The king made enquiry. 4 They said, "Yes, we buy from him vegetables and all sorts of fruit." When he found out this greengrocery business, he made it known. The prince's people went into the man's hut, and ferreted out a bundle of rupees and small coins, the price of the green food, which they showed to the king. Then the king knew the Great Being was guiltless, and said a stanza:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What of joy can this world give?
When in heaven I used to live
There were sights and sounds and smell,
Taste and touch 1, the heart loves well!

"Joys of heaven, and nymphs divine,
I renounced, that once were mine.
With a King so weak as thou
I will stay no longer now."

"If I am foolish-weak, my son,
This once forgive me what I've done.
And if I do the same again,
Do what thou wilt, I'll not complain."

The Great Being then repeated eight stanzas, admonishing the king.


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

"A thoughtful act, wherein is careful policy pursued,
Like a successful medicine, the issue must be good.

"The idle sensual layman I detest,
The false ascetic is a rogue contest;
A bad King will a case unheard decide;
Wrath in a sage can ne’er be justified 2.

"The warrior prince takes careful thought, and well-weighed judgement gives:
When Kings their judgement ponder well, their fame for ever lives 2.

"Kings should give punishment with careful measure:
Things done in haste they will repent at leisure.
Are there good resolutions in the heart,
No late repentance brings her bitter smart.

"They who do deeds which no repentance bring,
Carefully weighing every single thing,
Gain what is good, and do what satisfies
The holy, win the approval of the wise.

"What ho, my executioners!" you cried,
"Go seek my son, and where you find him, slay!"
Where I was sitting by my mother's side
They found me, dragged me cruelly away.

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

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

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

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

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

Then the king repeated a stanza:

"This is a marvel which I hear from thee,
Sorrow to sorrow heaping up on me.
3 4 5 I asked thee to persuade our son to stay,
Thou dost but urge him more to haste away."

Again the queen repeated a stanza:

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

In reply the king recited the last stanza:

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

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

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


279:1 passehi is probably for phassehi (objects of touch): rūpa corresponds to the eye.

279:2 These stanzas occur in Vol. iii. pp. 105 and 154 (translation, pp. 70, 103).

280:1 These two lines occur in iii. 306 (translation, p. 191).

The Jataka, Vol. IV: No. 506.: Campeyya-Jātaka.

The Jataka, Vol. IV, tr. by W.H.D. Rouse, [1901], at

p. 281

No. 506.


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

Once upon a time, when Aṅga was king in the kingdom of Aṅga, and Magadha king in Magadha, betwixt the realms of Aṅga and Magadha was a river Campā, where was a place where serpents dwelt, and here a serpent king Campeyya held sway.

Sometimes King Magadha took the Aṅga country, sometimes King Aṅga took Magadha. One day King Magadha, having fought a battle with Aṅga and got the worse, mounted his charger and took to flight, pursued by Aṅga's warriors. When he came to the Campā river, it was in flood. But he said, "Better death drowned in this river than death at the hands of my enemies!" Then man and horse plunged in the stream.

Now the serpent king Campeyya had built him under the water a jewelled pavilion; and there at this moment in the midst of his court he was carousing deep. But the king and his horse plunged into the river just in front of the Serpent King. The serpent, beholding this magnificent monarch, conceived a liking for him. Rising from his seat, he made the king sit down upon his own throne, bidding him fear nought, and asked why he came plunging into the water. The king told him all as it was. Then said the serpent, "Fear nothing, O great king! I will make you master of both kingdoms." Thus he consoled him, and for seven days he showed him high honour. On the seventh day he with King Magadha left the serpent palace. Then by the Serpent King's power, King Magadha got possession of King Aṅga, and slew him, and ruled over the two realms together. From that time there was firm affiance between him and the Serpent King. 4 5 Year by year he caused a jewelled pavilion to be built on the bank of the river Campā, and offered tribute to the Serpent King at great cost: the Serpent King would come forth with a large retinue from his palace to receive the tribute, and all the people beheld the glory of the Serpent King.

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At that time the Bodhisatta was one of a poor family, and he used to go down with the king's people to the riverside. There seeing the Serpent King's glory, he became covetous of it; and in this desire 1 he died, and seven days after the death of the serpent king Campeyya, the Bodhisatta, having given alms and lived a virtuous life, came into being in his palace on his royal couch: his body was like a great festoon of jessamine. When he saw it, he was filled with remorse. "As a consequence of my good deeds," quoth he, "I have power laid up in the six chief worlds of sense 2, as corn is laid up in a granary. But see, here am I born in this reptile shape; what care I for life!" And so he had thoughts of putting an end to himself. But a young female serpent, named Sumanā, seeing him, gave the lead to the rest, "This must be Sakka, mighty in power, born here to us!" Then they all came and made offering to him, with all manner of musical instruments in their hands. That serpent's palace of his became as it were the palace of Sakka, the thought of death left him: he put off his serpent shape, and sat on the couch in magnificence of dress and adornment. From that time great was his glory, and he ruled over the serpents. Another time again he repented, thinking, "What care I for this reptile shape? I will live under the fasting vows, and from this place I will shake myself free, amongst men I will go, and learn the Truths, and I will make an end of pain." But afterwards he still remained in that same palace, fulfilling the fasting vows, and when the young female serpents came about him all gaily adorned, he generally violated his rule of virtue. After that he went forth from the palace into the park, but they followed him thither, and his vow was broken as before. Then he thought: "I must leave this palace, and go into the world of men, and there must I live under the fasting vows." 4 5 6 So then on the fast-days he went forth from the palace, and lay on the top of an antheap by the high road, not far from a frontier village. Said he, "Those who desire my skin or any part of me, let them take it; or if any would have me a dancing snake, let them make me so." Thus did he yield his body as a gift, and contracting his hood he lay there observing the fast-day vows.

Those who went to and fro on the highway espying him, did him worship with scents and perfumes. And the dwellers in that frontier village, holding him to be a serpent king of great power, set up a pavilion over him, spread sand before it, did worship with perfumes and scented things. Now people began to crave sons by his aid, having faith in the Great Being and doing him worship. The Great Being kept there the fasting vows on the fourteenth and fifteenth days of the half-moon, lying upon the antheap; and on the first day of the lunar half he would return to his palace; and as he thus fulfilled his vows, time went by.

p. 283

One day his consort Sumanā spoke to him thus: "My lord, you are wont to go among men to keep your fast-vows. The world of men is dangerous, full of fear. Suppose some danger should come upon you, tell me now by what sign I shall learn of it." Then the Great Being led her to the side of a lucky pond, and said, "If any one strike me or do me hurt, the water in this pond will become turbid. If a roc bird carry me off, the water will disappear. If a snake-charmer seize me, the water will turn to the colour of blood." These three signs explained to her, he went forth from his palace to keep the fast of the fourteenth day, went and lay down on the antheap, illuminating the antheap with the sheen of his body. White was his body as a coil of pure silver, like a ball of red wool was his head: now in this Birth the Bodhisatta's body was thick as a plough-head, in the Bhūridatta Birth 1 thick as a thigh, in the Saṅkhapāla Birth 2 as big round as a trough-canoe with an outrigger.

In those days there was a young brahmin of Benares come to Takkasilā to study at the feet of a world-renowned teacher, from whom 4 5 he had learned the charm which commands all things of sense. Going home along that road, what should he see but the Great Being."This snake I will catch," thinks he, "and I will travel through town and village and royal city, making him dance and amassing great profits." Then he procured magical herbs, and repeating the magic charm he approached the snake. No sooner he heard the sound of this charm, than the Great Being felt his ears as it were pierced by burning splinters, his head was as though broken by the blow of a sword. "What have we here!" thought he; putting forth his head from the hood, he beheld the snake-charmer. Then he thought, "My poison is powerful, and if I am angry and send forth the breath of my nostrils 3 his body will be shattered and scattered like a fist-full of chaff; then my virtue will be broken. I will not look upon him. "Closing his eyes he drew his head within the hood. The brahmin snake-charmer ate a herb, repeated his charm, spat upon him: by virtue of herb and charm, wherever the spittle touched him, blains arose. Then the man seized him by the tail, dragged him, laid him out at full length: with a goat's-foot staff he squeezed him till he was weak, then catching tight hold on his head, crushed him hard. The Great Being opened his mouth wide; the man dropt spittle in it, and by the herb and charm broke his teeth; the mouth was full of blood. But the Great Being so feared lest he break his virtue, that he bore all this torment and never so much as opened an eye to glance at him. Then the man said, "I'll weaken this royal snake!" From tail to head he squeezed the snake's body as though he would crush his very bones to powder. Then he wrapt him in

p. 284

what they call the cloth-wrap, gave him what they call the rope-rubbing, caught him by the tail and gave him the cotton blow, as they call it 1. The Great Being's body was all smeared with blood, and he was in great pain. Seeing that the serpent was now weak, 4 5 the man made an osier basket in which he laid the snake. Then he carried him to the village, and made him perform to the crowd. Black or blue or what not, round figure and square figure, little or large—whatever the brahmin desires, that the Great Being will do, dancing, spreading his hood as if by hundreds or by thousands 2. The people were so pleased that they gave much money: in one day he would take a thousand rupees, and things worth another thousand. At the first the man had intended to let him go free when he should gain a thousand pieces of money; but when he got it, he thought, "In a small frontier village I have gained all this: from kings and courtiers how much wealth may I look to win!" So he bought a cart and a pleasure-car, and in the cart loaded his goods, while he sat in the carriage. Thus with an attendant throng he traversed town and village, making the Great Being perform, and went on with the intent to show him off before King Uggasena in Benares; and then he would let him go.

He used to kill frogs and give them to the royal snake. But the snake each time refused to eat, that none might be killed for his sake. Then the man gave him honey and fried corn. But the Great Being refused to eat these also; for he thought, "If I take food, I shall be in this basket till I die."

In a month's time the brahmin was come to Benares. There he got much money by making the snake perform in the villages beyond the gates. The king also sent for him, and commanded a performance: the man promised this for the morrow, which was the last day of the half-month. Then the king sent a drum beating about the city, with proclamation, that on the morrow a royal snake would dance in the palace court; let the people then gather to see it in their multitudes. Next day the courtyard of the palace was adorned, and the brahmin summoned. He brought in the Great Being in a jewelled basket on a gay rug, which he set down, and himself took a seat. "The king came down from the upper storey, and sat on his royal seat in the midst of a great concourse of people. The brahmin took out the Great Being, and made him dance. The people could not keep still: thousands of kerchiefs waved in the air; a shower of jewels in all seven kinds fell about the Bodhisatta.

It was now the full month since the Serpent was caught; and for all that time he had taken no food. 4 5 Now Sumanā began to think—

p. 285

[paragraph continues] "My dear husband tarries long. It is now a month since he has not returned; what can the matter be?" So she went and looked at the pond: lo, the water was red as blood! Then she knew that he must have been caught by a snake-charmer. Forth from the palace she came, and to the antheap; she saw the place where he had been caught, and the place where he had been tormented, and she wept. Then she went to the frontier village, and enquired; and learning all the fact, she went on to Benares, and in the midst of the people, above the palace court in the air she stood now lamenting. The Great Being as he danced looked up in the air, and saw. her, and being ashamed crept into his basket, and there he lay. When he crept into the basket, the king cried out, "What is the matter now?" Looking this way and that way, he saw her poised in the air, and recited the first stanza:

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

Their conversation is given in the stanzas following:

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

"Full of wrath and rage you show,
From your eyes the teardrops flow:
    Say what wrong or what desire
Brings you, lady? I would know."

"Crawling serpent, fierce as flame!
So they called him: one there came,
    Seized him for his profit, sire:
Freedom for my lord I claim!"

How could such a starveling wight
Catch a creature full of might?
    Daughter of the serpents, say,
How to discern the snake aright?"

[460] "Such his might, that e’en this town
He could burn to cinders down.
    But he loves the holy way,
And seeks austerity's renown."

Then the king asked how the man had caught him. She replied in the following stanza:

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

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

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

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

[461] Then the king recited three stanzas:

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

"A jewelled earring give I thee, a hundred drachms of gold,
A lovely throne like flower of flax with cushions laid fourfold! 1

"A bull, a hundred kine, two wives of equal birth with thee:
Release the holy Snake: the deed will meritorious be."

To this the hunter made reply:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Great Being made oath thus to win his belief:

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

Now the king believed him, and thanked him thus:

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

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

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

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

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

The next is a stanza of the Perfect Wisdom:

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

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

Explaining this, the Master said:

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

"So then the King did enter in Campeyya's halls divine,
Which like the brazen thunderbolt 2 or ruddy sun did shine.

"Into Campeyya's halls divine the King his entrance made:
A thousand perfumes scent the air, a thousand trees give shade.

"Within Campeyya's palace once the King his step advanced,
Celestial harps made melody, fair serpent-maidens danced."

[465] "He is shown a golden seat
Cushioned and with sandal sweet,
    Where the bevy of fair maidens
Tread the halls with thronging feet."

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

To explain this, the Master said:

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

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

p. 289


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

"Heron, peacock, heavenly geese,
Charms of cuckoo like to these,
Such on earth are none to see:
Why wouldst thou a hermit be?

"'Mango, sal, and tilak grown,
Cassia 1, trumpet-flower 2 full-blown,
Such on earth are none to see:
Why wouldst thou a hermit be?

"See the lakes! and wafted o’er
Scents divine on every shore:
Such on earth are none to see:
Why wouldst thou a hermit be?"

"'Not for life or sons or pelf
Do I wrestle with myself;
’Tis my craving, if I can,
To be born again as Man."

To this answer the king replied:

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

"Great in might, in power divine,
Lord of all desires, incline,
    Serpent-King, to rede my question—
How our world surpasses thine?"

[467] This was answered by the Serpent-King as follows:

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

The, king listened, and thus replied:

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

To him the Serpent-King said:

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

p. 290

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

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

[468] "Pearls, five thousand loads, I ween,
Coral blushing in between,
    Take and spread them in thy palace
Till nor earth nor dirt be seen.

"Such a mansion as I tell
Build, and there, O monarch! dwell:
    Rich will be Benares city:
Rule it wisely, rule it well."

The king agreed to this suggestion. Then the Great Being sent proclamation about the city by beat of drum: "Let all the attendants of the king take what they will of my wealth, gold and fine gold!" And he sent the treasure to the king loaded in several hundred carts. After this the king left the serpent world with great pomp, and returned to Benares. From that time, they say, the ground was all golden throughout India.

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


282:1 Reading with two MS., patthayamāno.

282:2 The six devalokā.

283:1 No. 543 (vi. 157 Pali).

283:2 No. 524 (v. 161 Pali).

283:3 Reputed to be poisonous. Compare ii. 55 and 206 of this translation.

284:1 These appear to be technical terms.

284:2 That is, by his swift motion giving the appearance of thousands of hoods.

285:1 Fourteenth and fifteenth are named.

286:1 This couplet, and half the next, occur above, p. 422.

286:2 Reading saṁvaṭṭaye, as Fausball suggests.

287:1 "The serpent tribe" is the literal translation.

288:1 See Schol. p. 142.

288:2 Bronze thunderbolts, shaped somewhat like those which Zeus grasps in Greek vase paintings, are still used in North India as charms.

289:1 Cassia Fistula.

289:2 Bignonia Suaveolens.

289:3 See above, p. 280; and iii. 306 (translation, p. 190).

The Jataka, Vol. IV: No. 507.: Mahā-Palobhana-Jātaka.

The Jataka, Vol. IV, tr. by W.H.D. Rouse, [1901], at

No. 507.


"From Brahma's heaven," etc.—This story the Master told while dwelling in Jetavana, about the defilement of the sanctified. The circumstances have already been given. Here again said the Master, "Women cause defilement even in sanctified souls," and then told this story of the past.

p. 291

[469] Once upon a time in Benares—here the story of the past is to be expanded as in the Culla-palobhana Birth 1. Now once again the Great Being came down from Brahma's world as the King of Kāsi's son, and his name was Prince Anitthi-gandha, the Woman-hater. In the hands of a woman he would not be; they must needs dress as men to give him the breast; he dwelt in a closet of meditation, and never a woman he saw. 2

To explain this, the Master repeated four stanzas.

"From Brahma's heaven a god came down, and here upon this earth
As a King's son whose every wish was law, he had his birth.

"To Brahma's heaven no deed of lust, no mention, ever came:
So born into this world, the prince now loathed its very name.

"Within the palace he had made a closet all his own,
Where deep in meditation plunged he passed his days alone.

"The King, grown anxious for his son, laments to know him there:
One only son I have, and he for pleasures will not care."

The fifth stanza describes the king's lamentation:

"O who can tell me what to do! O is there no device?
Who'll teach him joys of love to crave, and who can him entice?"

The next stanza and half a stanza, are those of perfect wisdom:

"A girl there was, of graceful shape, of fair and lovely skin:
She knew a world of pretty songs, and well could dance and spin.
This maiden sought his majesty, and thus she did begin."

[470] The other line is spoken by the young girl:

"I will entice him, if thou wilt in marriage grant him me."

The king made answer to the maid, and thus and thus said he:

"Do but succeed in tempting him, thy husband he shall be."

The king now gave orders that all opportunity should be afforded her, and sent her to attend upon the prince. In the morning, taking her lute she went and stood just without the prince's sleeping chamber, and touching the lute with her finger-tips tried to tempt him by singing in a sweet voice.

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To explain this, the Master said:

"The maiden went within the house, and where she stood apart,
Sang ditties sweet and languishing, to pierce a lover's heart.

"There as the maiden stood and sang, the prince, who heard the sound,
Straight fell in fancy, and he asked the servants waiting round—

"What is that sound of melody that comes to me so clear,
Piercing the heart with thoughts of love, delightful to my ear?"

"A maid, your highness, fair to see, of dalliance infinite:
Wouldst thou enjoy the sweets of love, yield, yield to this delight."

"Ho, hither, nearer let her come, and let her sing yet more,
Here let her sing before my face within my closet door!'

"She who had sung without the wall stood in the chamber there:
She caught him, as an elephant is caught in woodland snare.

"He felt the joy of love, and lo! see jealousy full-grown:
"No other man shall love!" cries he, "but I will love alone!"

"No other man, but I alone!" he cries; and then away—
Seizes a sword, and runs amuck all other men to slay!

[471] "The people shouting in alarm all to the palace fly:
"Thy son is slaying every one all unprovoked!" they cry.

"Him did the warrior King arrest, and banish from his face:
"Within the boundaries of my realm thou shalt not find a place."

"He took his wife and travelled on till by the sea he stood
There built a hut of leaves, and lived on gleanings from the wood.

"A holy hermit flying came over the ocean high,
Entered the hut what time the meal was standing ready by.

"The woman tempted him:— now see how vile a thing was done!
He fell from chastity, and all his magic power was gone!

"The evening came; the prince returns, and from his gleaning brings
Hung to his pole a plenteous store of roots and wild-wood things.

"The hermit sees the prince approach: down to the shore goes he,
Thinking to travel through the air, but sinks into the sea!

"But when the prince beheld the sage down-sinking in the sea,
Pity sprang up within him, and these verses then said he:—

"Hither not sailing on the sea, by magic power you came,
But now you sink; an evil wife has brought you to this shame 1.

"Seducing traitresses, they tempt the holiest to his fall:
Down—down they sink: who women know should flee afar from all 2.

"Soft-speaking, hard to satisfy, as rivers hard to fill;
Down—down they sink: who women know should flee far from them still 2.

"And whomsoever they may serve for gold or for desire,
They burn him up, as fuel burns cast in a blazing fire." 2

"The hermit heard the prince's word; he loathed the world so vain:
Turned to his former Path 3, and rose up in the air again.

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"No sooner had the prince beheld how in the air he rose,
He grieved and with a purpose firm the holy life he chose;

"Then, turned religious, wholly quelled his lust and hot desire;
And passion quelled, to Brahma's world henceforth he did aspire."

[473] This discourse ended, the Master said, "Thus, Brethren, for woman's sake even sanctified souls do sin;" then he declared the Truths: (now at the conclusion of the Truths, the backsliding Brother achieved sainthood:) after which he identified the Birth, saying, "At that time I myself was Prince Anitthigandha."


291:1 No. 263, vol. ii. p. 227 of this translation.

291:2 Reading, as Fausball suggests, agacchat’ orena.

292:1 These are the same as the first two stanza, ii. 228 (translation).

292:2 These are the same as the first six lines, ii. 226 (translation).

292:3 That is, he returned to the Path of holiness.

The Jataka, Vol. IV: No. 508.: Pañca-Paṇḍita Jātaka.

The Jataka, Vol. IV, tr. by W.H.D. Rouse, [1901], at

No. 508.


The Birth of the Five Wise Men will be given in the Mahā-ummagga 1.

The Jataka, Vol. IV: No. 509.: Hatthi-Pāla Jātaka.

The Jataka, Vol. IV, tr. by W.H.D. Rouse, [1901], at

No. 509.


"At last we see," etc.—This story the Master told, while dwelling at Jetavana, about the Renunciation. Then with these words,—"It is not the first time, Brethren, that the Tathāgata made the Renunciation, but it was so before,"—the Master told them a story of the past.

Once upon a time there reigned in Benares a king named Esukārī. His chaplain had been from the days of his youth his favourite companion. They were both childless. As the two were sitting together one day in a friendly manner, they thought, "We have great glory, but never a

p. 294

son or a daughter: now what is to be done?" Then the king said to the chaplain, "Friend, if a son is born in your house, he shall be lord of my kingdom; but if I have a son, he shall be master of your wealth." The two made a bargain of it on these terms.

One day, as the chaplain approached his revenue-village, and entered by the southern gate, outside the gate he saw a wretched woman who had many sons: 4 seven sons she had, all hale and hearty; one held pot and plate for cooking, one mat and bedding, one went on before and one followed behind, one held a finger of her, one sat on her hip and one on her shoulder. "Where," asked the chaplain, "is the father of these lads?" "Sir," she replied, "the lads have no father at all for certain." "Why then," said he," how did you get seven fine sons like that?" 1 Disregarding the rest of the jungle, she points out a banyan tree that stood by the city gate, and quoth she, "I offered prayer, Sir, to the deity which inhabits this tree, and he answered me by giving these lads." "You may go, then, "said the chaplain; and descending from his chariot, he went up to the tree and taking hold of a branch shook it, saying, "O divinity, what has the king failed to give thee? Year by year he offers thee tribute of a thousand pieces of money, and thou givest him no son. What has this beggar wife done for thee, that thou givest her seven? Thou shalt grant the king a son within seven days, or I will have thee cut down by the roots and chopt up piecemeal." Thus upbraiding the deity of the banyan tree, he went away. Day after day for six days he did the same, and on the sixth, grasping the branch he said—"Only one night is left, tree-god; if you do not grant a son to my king, down you come!"

The deity of the tree reflected, till she knew exactly what was the matter. "Yon brahmin," thought she, "will destroy my home if he gets no son: well, by what means can I get him a son?" Then she went before the four great kings 2, and told them. "Well," said they, "we cannot give the man a son." To the eight-and-twenty war-lords of the Goblins she went next, and all they said was the same. To Sakka king of the gods she came, and told him. He pondered within himself: "Shall the king get sons worthy of him, or no?" 4 5 Then he looked about and saw four meritorious sons of the gods. These, it is said, had been in a former existence weavers of Benares; and all their winnings by that trade they would divide into five heaps; of these four were their own shares, but the fifth they gave away in common. When born anew from that place they came to the Heaven of the Thirty-three, thence

p. 295

again they were born into the Yāma world 1, thence in due succession they past up and down through the six celestial worlds and enjoyed much glory. Just then the time was when they were due to go from the Heaven of the Thirty-three to the Yāma Heaven. Sakka went to seek them, and summoned them, and said, "Holy sirs, you must go to the world of men, to be conceived in the womb of King Esukārī's chief consort." "Good, my lord," said they to these words, "we will go. But we do not want anything to do with a royal house: we will be born in the chaplain's family, and while yet young we will renounce the world." Then Sakka approved them for their promise, and returned, and told all to the deity that lived in the tree. Much pleased, the tree-god took leave of Sakka, and went to her dwelling place.

But next day up came the chaplain, and with him strong men whom he had gathered, having each a razor-adze or the like. The chaplain approached the tree, and seizing a branch, cried out—"What ho, god of the tree! This is now the seventh day. since I begged a favour of you: the time of thy destruction is come!" The tree-deity by her great power cleft the tree-trunk and came forth, and in a sweet voice addressed him thus: "One son, brahmin? pooh! I will give you four." Said he, "I want no sons; give one to my king." "No," she said, "I will give only to you." "Then give two to the king and two to me." "No, the king shall have none, you shall have all four; but they shall be only given to you, for they will not live in a worldly household: in the days of their youth they will renounce the world." "Just give me the sons, and I will see to it they do not renounce the world," said he. Thus the deity granted his prayer for children, and returned to her dwelling place. Ever afterwards that deity was held in high honour.

Now the eldest god came down, 4 6 and was conceived by the brahmin's wife. On his name day they called him Hatthipāla, the Elephant Driver; and to hinder him from renouncing the world, they entrusted him to the care of some keepers of elephants, amongst whom he grew up. When he was old enough to walk on his feet, the second was born of the same woman. At his birth they named him Assapāla, or Groom, and he grew up amongst those who kept horses. The third at his birth was called Gopāla, the Cowherd, and he grew up amongst the cattle-breeders. Ajapāla, or Goatherd, was the name given to the fourth, when he also was born; and he grew up among the goat-herds. When they grew older they were lads of auspicious omen.

Now for fear of their renouncing the world, all the ascetics who had so done were banished from the kingdom: in the whole realm of Kāsi not one was left. The lads were rough: in what way soever they

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went, they plundered those gifts of ceremony which were sent here or there.

When Hatthipāla was sixteen years old, the king and the chaplain seeing his bodily perfection, thought thus within them. "The lads are grown big. When the umbrella of royalty is uplifted, what shall be done with them?—As soon as the ceremony of sprinkling is done upon them, they will grow very masterful: ascetics will come, they will see them and will become ascetics also; once they have done this, the whole country will be in confusion. First let us test them, and afterwards have the ceremonial sprinkling." So they both dressed themselves up like ascetics, and went about seeking alms until they came to the door of the house where Hatthipāla lived. The lad was pleased and delighted to see them; approaching, he greeted them with respect, and recited three stanzas:

"At last we see a brahmin like a god, with top-knot great,
With teeth uncleansed, and foul with dust, and burdened with a weight 1.

"At last we see a sage, who takes delight in righteousness,
With robes of bark to cover him, and with the yellow dress.

"Accept a seat, and for your feet fresh water; it is right
To offer gifts of food to guests—accept, as we invite."

[477] Thus he addressed them one after the other. Then the chaplain said to him: "Hatthipāla my son, you say this because you do not know us. You think we are sages from the Himalayas, but such we are not, my son. This is King Esukārī, and I am your father the chaplain." "Then," said the lad, "why are you dressed like sages?" "To try you," said he. "Why try me?" he asked. "Because, if you see us without renouncing the world, we are ready to perform the ceremony of sprinkling, and make you king." "Oh, my father," quoth he, "I want no royalty; I will renounce the world." Then his father replied, "Son Hatthipāla, this is not a time for renouncing the world;" and he explained his intent in the fourth stanza:

"First learn the Vedas, get you wealth and wife
And sons, enjoy the pleasant things of life,
Smell, taste, and every sense: sweet is the wood
To live in then, and then the sage is good."

Hatthipāla replied with a stanza:

"Truth comes not by the Vedas nor by gold;
Nor getting sons will keep from getting old;
4 From sense there is release, as wise men know;
In the next birth we reap as now we sow."

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In answer to the young man, the king now recited a stanza:

"Most true the words that from thy lips do go:
In the next birth we reap as now we sow,
Thy parents now are old: but may they see
A hundred years of health in store for thee."

"What do you mean, my lord?" asked the prince, and repeated two stanzas:

"He who in death, O King, a friend can find,
And with old age a covenant hath signed;
For him that will not die be this thy prayer,
A hundred years of life to be his share.

"As one who on a river ferries o’er
A boat, and journeys to the other shore,
So mortals do inevitably tend
To sickness and old age, and death's the end."

[479] In this manner he showed these persons how transient are the conditions of mortal life, adding this advice: "As you stand there, O great king, and as I speak with you, even now sickness, old age, and death are drawing nearer to me. Then be vigilant!" So saluting the king and his father, he took with him his own attendants, and forsook the kingdom of Benares, and departed with the intent to embrace the religious life. And a great company of people went with the young man Hatthipāla; "for," said they, "this religious life must be a noble thing." The company extended a league long. He with this company proceeded until he came to the Ganges bank. There he induced the mystic trance by gazing at the water of the Ganges. "There will be a great concourse here," thought he. "My three younger brothers will come, my parents, king, queen, and all, they with their attendants will embrace the religious life. Benares will be empty. Until they come I will remain here." So he sat there, exhorting the crowd assembled.

Next day the king and his chaplain thought, "And so Prince Hatthipāla has really renounced his claim on the kingdom, and is sitting on the Ganges bank, whither he went to follow the religious life, and took a great multitude with him. But let us try Assapāla, and sprinkle him to be king." So as before in the dress of ascetics they went to his door. Pleased he was when he saw them, and went up to them, and repeating the lines "At last," and so forth, he did as the other had done. The others did as before, and told him the cause of their coming. He said, "Why is the White Umbrella offered first to me, seeing I have a brother Prince Hatthipāla?" They answered, "Your brother has gone away, my son, to embrace the religious life; he would have nothing to do with royalty." "Where is he now?" 4 asked the lad. "Sitting on the bank of the Ganges." "Dear ones," he said, "I care not for that which my brother has spewed out of his mouth. Fools and they who are

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scant of wisdom cannot renounce this sin, but I will renounce it." Then he declared the Law to father and king in two stanzas which he recited:

"Pleasures of sense are but morass and mire 1;
    The heart's delight brings death, and troubles sore.
Who sink in these morasses come no nigher
    In witless madness to the further shore 2.

"Here's one who once inflicted grief and pain:
    Now he is caught, and no release is found.
That he may never do such things again
    I'll build impenetrable walls around."

"There you stand, and even as I speak with you, sickness, old age, and death are approaching nearer." With this admonition, 1 4 and followed by a company of people a league long, he went to his brother Prince Hatthipāla. Who declared the Law to him, being poised in the air, and said, "Brother, there will be a great concourse to this place; let us both stay here together." The other agreed to stay there.

Next day king and chaplain went in the same manner to the house of Prince Gopāla: and by him being greeted with the same gladness, they explained the cause of their coming. He like Assapāla refused their offer. "For a long time," said he, "I have desired to embrace the religious life; like a cow gone astray in the forest, I have been wandering about in search of this life. I have seen the path by which my brothers have gone, like the track of a lost cow; and by that same path I will go." Then he repeated a stanza:

"Like one who seeks a cow has lost her way,
Who all perplext about the wood doth stray.
So is my welfare lost; then why hang back,
King Esukārī, to pursue the track?"

"But," they replied, "come with us for a day, son Gopālaka, for two or three days come with us; make us happy and then you shall renounce the world." He said, "O great king! never put off till the morrow what ought to be done to-day; if you want luck, take to-day by the forelock." Then he recited another stanza:

"To-morrow! cries the fool; next day! he cries.
No freehold in the future! says the wise;
The good within his reach he'll ne’er despise."

[482] Thus spake Gopāla, declaring the Law in the two stanzas; and added, "There you stand, and even as I talk with you, are approaching disease, old age, and death." Then followed by a company of people a league in length, he made his way to his two brothers. And Hatthipāla poised in the air declared the Law to him also.

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Next day in the same manner king and chaplain repaired to the house of Prince Ajapāla, who greeted them with joy as the others had done. They told the cause of their coming, and proposed to upraise the umbrella of royalty. The prince said: "Where are my brothers?" They answered, "Your brothers will have nothing to do with the kingdom; they have renounced the White Umbrella, and with a company that covers three leagues they are sitting upon the Ganges bank." "I will not put upon my head that which my brothers have spewed out of their mouths, and so live; but I too will undertake the religious life." They said, "My son, you are very young; your welfare is our care; grow older, and you shall embrace the religious life." But the lad said, "What is this you say? Surely death comes in youth as in age! No one has a mark in hand or foot to show whether he will die young or die old. I know not the time of my death, and therefore I will now renounce the world altogether." He then recited two stanzas:

"Oft have I seen a maiden young and fair,
Bright-eyed 1, intoxicate with life, her share
Of joy untasted yet, in youth's first spring:
Death came and carried off the tender thing.

"So noble, handsome lads, well-made and young,
Round whose dark chins the beard 2 in clusters clung—
I leave the world and all its lusts, to be
A hermit: go thou home, and pardon me."

[483] Then he went on, "There you stand, and even as I talk with you disease, old age, and death are approaching me." He saluted them both, and at the head of a league-long company he repaired to the Ganges bank. Hatthipāla poised in the air declared the Law to him also, and sat down to wait for the great gathering which he expected.

Next day the chaplain began to meditate as he sat upon his couch. "My sons," thought he; "have embraced the religious life; and now I am alone the withered stump of a man. I will follow the religious life also." Then he addressed this stanza to his wife:

"That which has branching boughs a tree they call:
Disbranched, it is a trunk, no tree at all.
So is a sonless man, my high-born wife:
’Tis time for me to embrace the holy life."

This said, he summoned the brahmins before him: sixty thousand of them came. Then he asked them what they meant to do. 4 "You are our teacher," they said. "Well," quoth he, "I shall seek out my son and embrace the religious life." They answered, "Hell is not hot for you alone; we will do likewise." He handed over his treasure, eighty crores,

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to his wife, and at the head of a league-long train of brahmins departed to the place where his sons were. And unto this company as before Hatthipāla declared the Law, poised on high in the air.

Next day thought the wife to herself, "My four sons have refused the White Umbrella to follow the life of the religious; my husband has left his fortune of eighty thousand, and his position of royal chaplain to boot, and gone to join his sons:—what am I to do all by myself? By the way my son has gone I will go also." And quoting an ancient saw she recited this stanza of aspiration:

"The rain-months past, the geese break net and snare,
With a free flight like herons through the air; 1
So by the path of husband and of son
I'll seek for knowledge as they two have done."

"Since this I knew," she said to herself, "why should I not renounce the world?" With this purpose she summoned the brahmin women, and said to them: 4 5 "What do you mean to do with yourselves?" They asked, "What do you?"—"As for me, I shall renounce the world."—"Then we will do the same." So leaving all her splendour, she went after her sons, taking with her a league-long company of women. To this company also Hatthipāla declared the Law, sitting poised in the air.

Next day the king asked, "Where is my chaplain?" "My lord," they replied, "the chaplain and his wife have left all their wealth behind, and have gone after their sons with a company that covers two or three leagues." Said the king, "Masterless money comes to me," and sent to fetch it from the chaplain's house. The chief queen now wanted to know what the king was doing. He is fetching the treasure," she was told, "from the chaplain's house." "And where is the chaplain?" she asked. "Gone to be a religious, wife and all." "Why," thought she, "here is the king fetching into his own house the dung and the spittle dropt by this brahmin and his wife and his four sons! Infatuate fool! I will teach him by a parable." She got some dog's-flesh, and made a heap of it in the palace courtyard. Then she set a snare round it, leaving the way open straight upwards. The vultures seeing it from afar swooped down. But the wise among them noticed that a snare had been set around it; and feeling they were too heavy to rise up straight, they disgorged what they had eaten, and without being caught in the snare rose up and flew away. Others blind with folly devoured the vomit of the first, and being heavy could not get clear away but were caught in the snare. They brought

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one of the vultures to the queen, and she carried it to the king. "See, O king!" said she, "there is a sight for us in the courtyard." Then opening a window, "Look at those vultures, your majesty!" Then she repeated two stanzas:

"The birds that ate and vomited in the air are flying free:
But those which ate and kept it down are captured now by me.

[486] "A brahmin vomits out his lusts, and wilt thou eat the same
A man who eats a vomit, sire, deserves the deepest blame."

At these words the king repented; the three states of existence 1 seemed as blazing fires; and he said, "This very day I must leave my kingdom and embrace the religious life." Full of grief, he lauded his queen in a stanza:

"Like as a strong man lends a helping hand
To weaker, sunk in mire or in quicksand:
So, Queen Pañcātī, thou hast saved me here,
With verses sung so sweetly in mine ear."

No sooner had he thus said, than on the instant he sent for his courtiers, eager to undertake the religious life, and said to them, "And what will you do?" They answered, "What will you?" He said," I will seek Hatthipāla and become a religious." "Then," said they, "we, my lord, will do the same." The king left his sovranty over Benares, that great city, twelve leagues in extent, and said, "Let who will upraise the White Umbrella." Then surrounded by his courtiers, at the head of a column three leagues in length, he went to the presence of the young man. To this body also Hatthipāla declared the Law, sitting high in the air.

The Master repeated a stanza which told how the king renounced this world.

"Thus Esukārī, mighty king, the lord of many lands,
From King turned hermit, like an elephant that bursts his bands."

[487] Next day the people who were left in the city gathered before the palace door, and sent in word to the queen. They entered, and saluting the queen, stood on one side, repeating a stanza:

"It is the pleasure of our noble king
To be a hermit, leaving everything.
So in the king's place now we pray thee stand;
Cherish the realm, protected by our hand."

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She listened to what the crowd said, and then repeated the remaining stanzas:

"It is the pleasure of the noble king
To be a hermit, leaving everything.
Now know that I will walk the world alone,
Renouncing lusts and pleasures every one.

"It is the pleasure of the noble king
To be a hermit, leaving everything.
Now know that I will walk the world alone,
Where’er they be, renouncing lusts each one.

"Time passes on, night after night goes by 1,
Youth's beauties one by one must fade and die:
Now know that I will walk the world alone,
Renouncing lusts and pleasures every one.

"Time passes on, night after night goes by,
Youth's beauties one by one must fade and die:
Now know that I will walk the world alone,
Where’er they be, renouncing lusts each one.

"Time passes on, night after night goes by,
Youth's beauties one by one must fade and die:
Now know that I will walk the world alone,
Each bond thrown off, nor passion's power I own."

[488] In these stanzas she declared the Law to the great crowd; then summoning the courtier's wives said to them, "And what will you do?" "Madam," say they, "what will you?"—"I will embrace the religious life."—"Then so will we do." So the queen set open the doors of all the storehouses of gold in the palace, and she caused to be engraved on a golden plate, "In such a place is a great treasure hidden"; any one who chose might have it. This gold plate she fastened to a pillar upon the great dais, and sent the drum beating the proclamation about the city. Then leaving all her magnificence she departed from the city. Then was the whole city in a garboil: the cry was, "Our king and queen have left the city to join the religious; what are we to do now?" Thereupon the people all left their houses, and all that was in them, and went out, taking their sons by the hand; all the shops stood open, but no one so much as turned to look at them: the whole city was empty.

And the queen with an attendant train of three leagues in length went to the same place as the others. To this company also Hatthipāla declared the Law, poised in the air above them; and then with the whole train a dozen leagues long he set out for Himalaya.

All Kāsi was in an uproar, crying how young Hatthipāla had emptied the city of Benares, twelve leagues in extent, and how with a huge company he is off to Himalaya to embrace the religious life; "surely then," said they, "much more should we do it!" In the end this company grew so that it covered thirty leagues; 4 and he with this great company went to Himalaya.

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Sakka in his meditation perceived what was afoot. "Prince Hatthipāla," he thought, "has made the Renunciation; there will be a great gathering of people, and they must have a place to live in." He gave orders to Vissakamma: "Go, make a hermitage six and thirty leagues long and fifteen broad, and gather in it all that is necessary for the religious." He obeyed; and made on the Ganges bank in a pleasant spot a hermitage of the required size, prepared in the leaf-huts pallets strewn with twigs or strewn with leaves, made ready all things necessary for the religious. Each hut had its doors, each its promenade; there were separate places for night and day living; all was neatly worked over with whitewash; there were benches for rest. Here and there were flowering-trees all laden with fragrant blooms of many colours; at the end of each promenade was a well for drawing water, and beside it a fruit-tree, and each tree bore all manner of fruits. This was all done by divine power. When Vissakamma had finished the hermitage, and provided the leaf huts with all things needful, he inscribed in letters of vermilion upon a wall "Whoso will embrace the religious life is welcome to these necessary things." Then by his supernatural power he banished from that place all hideous sounds, all hateful beasts and birds, all unhuman beings, and went back to his own place.

Hatthipāla came upon this hermitage, Sakka's gift, by a footpath, and saw the writing. Then he thought, "Sakka must have perceived that I have made the Great Renunciation." He opened a door, and entered a hut, and taking those things which mark the ascetic he went out again, and along the promenade, walking up and down a few times. Then he admitted the rest of the company to the religious life, and went to inspect the hermitage. He set apart in the midst a habitation for women with young boys, one next it for the old women, the next for childless women; the other huts all round he allotted to men.

[490] Then a certain king, hearing that there was no king in Benares, went to see, and found the city adorned and decorated. Entering the royal palace, he saw the treasure lying in a heap. "What!" said he, "to renounce a city like this, and to become a religious so soon as the chance came, this is truly a noble thing!" Asking the way of some drunken fellow he went to find Hatthipāla. When Hatthipāla perceived he was come to the skirt of the forest, he went out to meet him, and poised in the air declared the Law to his company. Then he led them to the hermitage, and received the whole band into the Brotherhood. In the same manner six other kings joined them. These seven kings renounced their wealth. The hermitage, six and thirty leagues in extent, was filling continually. When some great man had thoughts of lust or any such thing, he would declare the Law to him, and teach them the thought of the Perfections and the Ecstasy; these then generally developed

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the mystic trance; and two-thirds of them were born again in Brahma's world, while the third being divided into three parts, one part was born in Brahma's world, one in the six heavens of sense, one having performed a seer's mission was born in the world of men. Thus they enjoyed each of the three their own merit 1. Thus Hatthipāla's teaching saved all from hell, from animal birth, from the world of ghosts, and from being embodied as a Titan.

In this island of Ceylon, those who made the Renunciation were: Elder Dhammagutta, who made the earth to quake; Elder Phussadeva, a citizen of Kaṭakandhakāra; Elder Mahāsaṁgharakkhita, from Uparimaṇḍalakamalaya; Elder Malimahādeva; Elder Mahādeva, from Bhaggiri; Elder Mahāsīva, from Vāmantapabbhāra; Elder Mahānāga, from Kāḷavallimaṇḍapa; those in the company of Kuddāla, of Mūgapakkha, of Cūlasutasoma, of Ayoghara the Wise, and last of all Hatthipāla. Therefore said the Blessed One, "Make haste, ye happy!" etc. 2, that is, happiness will come only if they use all speed.

[491] When he had ended this discourse, the Master said, "Thus, Brethren, the Tathāgata made the Great Renunciation long ago, as now"; which said he identified the Birth: "At that time, King Suddhodana was King Esukārī, Mahāmāyā his queen, Kassapa the chaplain, Bhaddakāpilānī his wife, Anuruddha was Ajapāla, Moggallāna was Gopāla, Sāriputta was Hatthipāla, the Buddha's followers were the rest, and I myself was Hatthipāla."


293:1 Vol. vi. p. 339 (Pali).

294:1 Or (taking the reading in the text), "not seeing any other way out of it." Courtesans in India were said to be married to certain trees: perhaps this woman belongs to that class.

294:2 Four Lords of the Earth, North, South, East, and West.

295:1 Third of the Heavens of Sense, Hardy: Manual, p. 25.

296:1 See Sṁnyutta Nikāya, p. 1.

298:1 This line occurs in iii. 241 (iii. 158 of the translation).

298:2 Nirvana.

299:1 "With eyes like the flower of Pandanus Odoratissimus."

299:2 "Beard as it were covered with Carthamus Tinctorius."

300:1 The scholiast refers to a story describing how a spider in the rains wove a net that enclosed a flock of golden geese, how two of the younger birds at the end of the rains broke through by main force, and how the rest followed by the same gap and flew away.

301:1 Sensual, Bodily, and Formless, referring to the three correspondent worlds.

302:1 See Saṁnyutta Nikāya, I. p. 3.

The Jataka, Vol. IV: No. 510.: Ayoghara-Jātāka.

The Jataka, Vol. IV, tr. by W.H.D. Rouse, [1901], at

No. 510.


"Life once conceived, etc." This story the Master told about the Great Renunciation. Here again he said, "This is not the first time, Brethren, that the Tathāgata has made the Great Renunciation, for he did the same before." And he told them a story of the past.

Once upon a time, when Brahmadatta reigned in Benares, the queen consort conceived, and when her full time was come she brought forth a son just after dawn of day. Now in a former existence, another wife of the same husband had prayed that she might be able to devour the child of this woman; she, it is said, was barren, and being angry with mother and son uttered this prayer, for which cause she came into being as

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a goblin. The other became the king's consort, and brought forth this son. Well, the she-goblin found her chance, and putting on a horrific shape caught up the child from under the mother's eyes and made off. The queen screamed with a loud voice—"A goblin is carrying off my son!" The other champed and mumbled him like an onion, and swallowed him down; then after various transformations of her limbs, which annoyed and frightened the queen, departed. When the king heard, he was dumb: what could be done, thought he, against a goblin?

Next time the queen was in childbed, he set a strong guard about her. She bore another son; the goblin again came, and devoured him too, and departed.

The third time it was the Great Being conceived in her womb. The king gathered a number of people together, and said: "Each son my queen has brought forth, a she-goblin comes and devours him. 2 4 What is to be done?" Then some one said, "Goblins are afraid of a palm-leaf; you should bind one such leaf on each of her hands and feet." Another said, "It is an iron house they fear; one should be made." The king was willing. He summoned all the smiths in his realm and bade them build him an iron house, and set overseers over them. Right in the town in a pleasant place they builded a house; pillars it had, and all the parts of a house, all made of nothing but iron: in nine months there it stood finished, a great hall foursquare: it shone, lighted continually with lamps.

When the king knew that she drew near her time, he had the iron house fitted up, and took her into it. She brought forth a son with the marks of goodness and luck upon him, and they gave him the name of Ayoghara-Kumāra, the Prince of the Iron House. The king gave him in charge to nurses, and placed a great guard about the place, while he with his queen made the circuit of the whole city rightwise, and then went up to his magnificent terrace. Meanwhile the she-goblin wanting water to drink had been destroyed in trying to fetch some of the water of Vessavaṇa.

In the iron house the Great Being grew up, and increased in wisdom, and there also he was educated in all the sciences.

The king asked his courtiers, "What is my son's age?" They replied, "He is sixteen years old, my lord: a hero, mighty and strong, fit to master a thousand goblins!" The king determined to place the kingdom in his son's hands. He had the city decorated, and gave order that the lad be brought to him out of the iron house. The courtiers obeyed: all Benares was decorated, that great city of twelve leagues in extent; they decked out the state elephant in magnificent caparison, and drest the boy in his best, and placed him upon the elephant's back, saying, "My lord, make a circuit rightwise about the rejoicing city, your inheritance, and salute your father the King of Kāsi; for this day you shall receive the

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[paragraph continues] White Umbrella." The Great Being made his ceremonial circuit rightwise, and seeing the beautiful parks, the beautiful colours, lakes, plots of ground, all the beautiful houses and so forth, 3 4 thought thus within himself: "All this while my father has kept me close in prison, never let me see this city so richly adorned. What fault can there be in me?" He put this question to the courtiers. "My lord," they said, "there is no fault in you; but a she-goblin devoured your two brothers, therefore your father made you live in an iron house, and the iron house has saved your life." These words made him think again, "For ten months I was in my mother's womb, as it might have been the Hell of the Iron Caldron or the Hell of Dung 1; and when I came forth from the womb, for sixteen years I dwelt in this prison, never a chance of looking outside. Though I have escaped the hands of the goblin I am neither free from old age nor death. What care I for royalty? Once established in the royal place it is hard for one to get away. This very day will I ask my father's leave to embrace the religious life, and I will go to Himalaya and do so."

Accordingly after his procession about the city was over, he went to the king's palace, and saluted the king, and stood waiting. The king seeing his bodily beauty, looked at his courtiers with strong love in his eyes. "What do you wish us to do, Sire?" they asked. "Take my son and put him on a pile of jewels, sprinkle him from the three conchs, uplift the White Umbrella with its festoons of gold." But the Great Being saluted his father, and said, "Father, I want nothing to do with royalty. I wish to embrace the religious life, and I crave your leave to do so." "Why would you leave your royalty, my son, and embrace the religious life?"—"My lord, for ten months I was in my mother's womb, as it were the Hell of Dung; once born, for fear of a goblin I dwelt sixteen years in a prison, with never a chance even of looking outside,—I seemed as it were cast into the Ussada hell. Now safe from the goblin I am neither safe from old age nor death, for death no man can conquer. I am weary of existence. Until disease, old age, death comes upon me I will follow the life of the religious, walking in righteousness. No kingdom for me! My lord, grant your permission!" Then he declared the Law to his father thus:


"Life once conceived within the womb, no sooner has begun,
Than on it goes continually, its course is never done 2.

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"No warlike prowess nor no mighty strength
Can keep men from old age and death at length;
All being plagued with birth and age I see:
So I'm resolved—a holy life for me.

"Great kings by force and violence subdue
Hosts of four arms 1, terrific to the view;
Over death's host they win no victory:
So I'm resolved—a holy life for me.

"Though horses, elephants, and cars, and men
Surround them, some have yet got free again;
But from the hands of death no man gets free:
So I'm resolved—a holy life for me.

"With horses, elephants, and cars, and men,
Heroes destroy and crush and crush again;
But to crush death no man so strong I see:
So I'm resolved—a holy life for me.

"Mad elephants in rut with oozing skin
Trample whole towns and slay the men within,
To trample death no one so strong I see:
So I'm resolved—a holy life for me.

"Archers who most strong-armed and skilful are,
Wound like a flash of lightning from afar,
But to wound death no man so strong I see:
So I'm resolved—a holy life for me.

"Great lakes, their woods and rocks, to ruin fall,
After a while ruin shall come to all,
In time all brought to nothing they shall be
So I'm resolved—a holy life for me.

"Like as a tree upon a river brink,
Or as a drunkard sells his coat for drink 2,
Such is the life of those who mortals be:
So I'm resolved—a holy life for me."

[495] "The body's elements dissolve—they fall
Young, old, the middle-aged, men, women—all,
Fall as the fruit falls from a shaken tree:
So I'm resolved—a holy life for me.

"Man's prime is all unlike the queen whose reign
Rules o’er the stars 3: it ne’er will come again.
For worn-out eld what joy or love can be?
So I'm resolved—a holy life for me.

"While ghost and sprite and horrid goblin can
When angry breathe their poison-breath on man,
Gainst death their poison-breath no help can be:
So I'm resolved—a holy life for me.

"While ghost and sprite and horrid goblin can
When angry, be appeased by deed of man,
Work it with death, no softening knows he:
So I'm resolved—a holy life for me.

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"Those who do crime, and wrong, and hurtful things,
When known, are punished by the act of kings,
But against death no punishment can be:
So I'm resolved—a holy life for me.

"Those who do crime, and wrong, and hurtful things
Can find a way to stay the hand of kings,
But how to stay death's hand no way can be:
So I'm resolved—a holy life for me.

"Warriors or brahmins, men of high estate,
Men of much wealth, the mighty and the great,—
King Death no pity has, no ruth has he:
So I'm resolved—a holy life for me.

"Lions and tigers, panthers, seize their prey,
And all devour it, struggle as it may;
From fear of their devouring death is free:
So I'm resolved—a holy life for me.

"Upon the stage a juggler with his sleight
Performing can deceive the people's sight,
To cozen death, no trick so quick can be:
So I'm resolved—a holy life for me.

[496] "Serpents enraged will with envenomed bite
Attack at once and kill a man outright;
For death no fear of poison-bite can be:
So I'm resolved—a holy life for me.

"Serpents enraged with venomed fangs may bite,
The skilful leach can stay the poison's might;
To cure death's bite no man so strong can be:
So I'm resolved—a holy life for me.

"Physicians' skill could cure the serpent's bite;
Now they are dead themselves and out of sight,
Bhoga, Vetaraṇī, Dhammantarī
So I'm resolved—a holy life for me.

"Some who in spells and magic lore are wise
Can walk invisible to other eyes,
Yet not so invisible but death can see:
So I'm resolved—a holy life for me.

"Safe is the man who walks in righteousness;
Religion well observed has power to bless;
Happy the righteous man and never he
While he is righteous falls in misery 1.

"Is it not true, his proper fruit from right or wrong shall spring?
Right leads to heaven, unrighteousness a man to hell must bring  2.

[499] When the Great Being had thus declared the Law in twenty-four stanzas, he said, "O great king! keep your kingdom to yourself; I want none of it. Even as I am talking with you, disease, old age, and death draw nearer to me. Stay where you are." Then, as a mad

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elephant might burst his steel chains, as a young lion might break out of a golden cage, he burst his carnal desires; and saluting his parents, he departed. Then his father said, "I want not the Kingdom!" and leaving it went with him. When he was gone, the queen and courtiers, brahmins, householders, and everyone else who dwelt in the city, left their houses and went away. There was a great concourse; the crowd covered twelve leagues. With this crowd he set out for Himalaya.

When Sakka perceived that he had departed, he sent Vissakamma to make a hermitage twelve leagues long and seven wide, and bade him put within it all things requisite for the ascetic life. How the Great Being proceeded to admit these into the Brotherhood, and admonished them, and how they became destined for Brahma's world, or entered upon the Third Path, all must be repeated again as before.

This discourse ended, the Master said: "Thus, Brethren, the Tathāgata has made the Great Renunciation before"; after which he identified the Birth: "At that time the king's parents were the mother and father, the Buddha's followers were their followers, and I was myself the Wise Ayoghara."










304:1 For the three Kusalasampattayo see Childers, p. 439.

304:2 Dhammapada, 116.

306:1 Gūthanirayo.

306:2 The scholiast explaining this quotes the following lines:

"First seed, then embryo, then shapeless flesh,
Then something solid, out of which soon grow
Thighs, hair on head and body, with the nails:
Whatever food or drink the mother takes,
The baby lives on, in his mother's womb."

307:1 Horse, Foot, Chariots, Elephants.

307:2 The text is: "like a drunkard's cloth," but this cryptic utterance is thus explained by the scholiast.

307:3 The Moon.

308:1 This stanza is given in the Introduction to the Jataka book, no. 224 (not in our translation): see Rhys Davids, Buddhist Birth Stories, p. 34. Also in Dhammapada, p. 126, Theragāthā. 35.

308:2 See Dhammapada, p. 90 in Fausboll's Commentary, 1. 3.