(Comp. the Pâli Gâtaka, No. 499, Fausb. IV, 401-412; Kariyâpitaka I, 8.)
The preaching of the excellent Law must be listened to with attention. For it is by means of hundreds of difficult hardships that the Lord obtained this excellent Law for our sake. This is shown by the following.
In the time, when this our Lord was still a Bodhisattva, in consequence of his possessing a store of meritorious actions collected by a practice from time immemorial, he once was a king of the Sibis. By his deference to the elders whom he was wont to honour from his very childhood, and by his attachment to a modest behaviour, he gained the affection of his subjects; owing to his natural quickness of intellect, he enlarged his mind by learning many sciences; he was distinguished by energy, discretion, majesty and power, and favoured by fortune. He ruled his subjects as if they were his own children.
1. The different sets of virtues, that accompany each member of the triad (of dharma, artha, and kâma) all together gladly took their residence, it seems, with him; and yet they did not lose any of their splendour in spite of the disturbance which might occur from their contrasts.
2. And felicity, that is like a mockery to those who have attained a high rank by wrong means, like a grievous calamity to the fool, like an intoxicating liquor to the feeble-minded—to him it was, as is indicated by its name, real happiness.
3. Noble-hearted, full of compassion, and wealthy, this best of kings rejoiced at seeing the faces of the mendicants beaming with satisfaction and joy at the attainment of the wished-for objects.
Now this king, in accordance with his propensity for charity, had caused alms-halls, provided with every kind of utensils, goods, and grains, to be constructed in all parts of the town. In this way he poured out the rain of his gifts, not unlike a cloud of the Krita Yuga. And he distributed them in such a manner, as well became the loftiness of his mind, supplying the wants of each according to his desire, with lovely deference and kind speed, whereby he enhanced the benefit of his gifts. He bestowed food and drink on those who were in need of food and drink; likewise he dispensed couches, seats, dwellings, meals, perfumes, wreaths, silver, gold, &c., to those who wanted them. Then, the fame of the king's sublime munificence spreading abroad, people who lived in different regions and parts of the world went to that country, with surprise and joy in their hearts.
4. The mendicants, when letting the whole world of men pass before their mind's eye, did not find in others an opportunity of putting forth their requests; to him it was that they went up in crowds with glad faces, just as wild elephants go up to a great lake.
The king, on the other hand, when beholding them, whose minds were rejoiced with the hope of gain, flocking together from all directions, though the outward appearance of that mendicant people in travelling dress was anything but handsome,—
5. Nevertheless he received them, as if they were friends come back from abroad, his eyes wide-opened with joy; he listened to their requests, as if good news were reported to him, and after giving, his contentment surpassed that of the recipients.
6. The voices of the beggars spread about the perfume of the fame of his munificence, and so abated the pride of the other kings. In a similar way, the scent of the juice that runs out of the temples of the scent-elephant in rut, being scattered by the wind, causes the bees to neglect the like fluid of the other elephants[31].
One day the king, making the tour of his alms-halls, noticed the very small number of supplicants staying there, in consequence of the wants of the mendicant people being supplied. When he considered this, he was uneasy, because his habit of almsgiving could not well proceed.
7. The indigent, when coming to him, quenched their thirst (for the desired boons), not he his (thirst for giving), when meeting with them. His passion for charity was so great, that no requester by the extent of his request could outdo his determination of giving.
Then this thought arose within him: 'Oh, very blessed are those most excellent among the pious, to whom the mendicants utter their desires with confidence and without restraint, so as to ask even their limbs! But to me, as if they were terrified by harsh words of refusal, they show only boldness in requesting my wealth.'
8. Now Earth, becoming aware of that exceedingly lofty thought, how her lord holding on to charity, had stopped the very attachment to his own flesh, trembled as a wife would, who loves her husband.
The surface of the earth being shaken, Sumeru, the lord of mountains, radiant with the shine of its manifold gems, began to waver. Sakra, the Lord of the Devas (Devendra), inquiring into the cause of this wavering, understood that it was the sublime thought of that king which produced the shivering of Earth's surface; and as he was taken up with amazement, he entered into this reflection:
9. 'How is this? Does this king bear his mind so high and feel so great a rejoicing at giving away in charity as to conceive the thought of girding his resolution to give with the strong determination of parting with his own limbs?
'Well, I will try him.'
Now the king, surrounded by his officials, was sitting (on his throne, in his hall) in the midst of the assembly. The usual summons by proclamation had been given, inviting anybody who was in need of anything; stores of wealth, silver, gold, jewels, were being disclosed by the care of the treasurer; boxes filled to the top with various kinds of clothes, were being uncovered; various excellent carriages, the yokes of which enclosed the necks of different well-trained beasts of draught, were being made to advance; and the mendicants were crowding in. Among them Sakra, the Lord of the Devas, having assumed the shape of an old and blind Brâhman, drew the attention of the king. On him the king fixed his firm, placid, and mild looks expressive of compassion and friendliness, and he seemed with them to go to his encounter and to embrace him. The royal attendants requested him to say what he was wanting, but he drew near the king, and after uttering his hail and blessing, addressed him with these words:
10. 'A blind, old man I have come hither from afar begging thy eye, O highest of kings. For the purpose of ruling the world's regular course one eye may be sufficient, O lotus-eyed monarch.'
Though the Bodhisattva experienced an extreme delight at his heart's desire being realised, a doubt arose within him as to whether the Brâhman had really said so or, this thought being always present to his mind, himself had fancied so, and since he longed to hear the very sweet words of the eye being asked, he thus spoke to the eye-asker:
11. 'Who has instructed thee, illustrious Brâhman, to come here and to ask from me one eye? No one, it is said, will easily part with his eye. Who is he that thinks the contrary of me?'
Sakra, the Lord of the Devas in the disguise of a Brâhman, knowing the intention of the king, answered:
12. 'It is Sakra. His statue, instructing me to ask thee for thy eye, has caused me to come here. Now make real his opinion and my hope by giving me thy eye.'
Hearing the name of Sakra, the king thought: 'Surely, through divine power this Brâhman shall regain his eyesight in this way,' and he spoke in a voice, the clear sound of which manifested his joy:
13. 'Brâhman, I will fulfil thy wish, which has prompted thee to come here. Thou desirest one eye from me, I shall give thee both.
14. 'After I have adorned thy face with a pair of bright lotus-like eyes, go thy way, putting the bystanders first into doubt's swing as to thy identity, but soon amazing them by the certainty of it.'
The king's counsellors, understanding that he had decided to part with his eyes, were perplexed and agitated, and sadness afflicted their minds. They said to the king:
15, 16. 'Majesty, Your too great fondness for charity makes you overlook that this is mismanagement leading to evil. Be propitious, then, desist from your purpose; do not give up your eyesight! For the sake of one twice-born man you must not disregard all of us. Do not burn with the fire of sorrow your subjects, to whom you have hitherto ensured comfort and prosperity.
17, 18. 'Money, the source of opulence; brilliant gems; milch cows; carriages and trained beasts of draught; vigorous elephants of graceful beauty; dwellings fit for all seasons, resounding with the noise of the anklets[32], and by their brightness surpassing the autumn-clouds: such are boons fit to be bestowed. Give those, and not your eyesight, O you who are the only eye of the world.
'Moreover, great king, you must but consider this:
19. 'How can the eye of one person be put in the face of another? If, however, divine power may effect this, why should your eye be wanted for it?
'Further, Your Majesty,
20. 'Of what use is eyesight to a poor man? That he might witness the abundance of others? Well then, give him money; do not commit an act of rashness!'
Then the king addressed his ministers in soft and conciliating terms:
21. 'He who after promising to give, makes up his mind to withhold his gift, such a one puts on again the bond of cupidity which he had cast off before.
22. 'He who after promising to give, does not keep his promise, being driven from his resolution by avarice, should he not be held for the worst of men?
23. 'He who, having strengthened the hope of the mendicants by engaging himself to give, pays them with the harsh disappointment of a refusal, for him there is no expiation.
'And with respect to your asserting "is divine power of itself not sufficient to restore the eyesight to that man?" you should be taught this.
24. 'That different means are wanted to carry out purposes, is well known, indeed. For this reason even Destiny (Vidhi), though a deity, needs some means or other.
'Therefore, you must not exert yourselves to obstruct my determination to accomplish an extraordinary deed of charity.'
The ministers answered: 'We have only ventured to observe to Your Majesty that you ought to give away goods and grains and jewels, not your eye; when saying this, we do not entice Your Majesty to wickedness.'
The king said:
25. 'The very thing asked for must be given. A gift not wished for does not afford pleasure. Of what use is water to one carried off by the stream? For this reason, I shall give to this man the object he requests.'
After this, the first minister who more than the others had got into the intimate confidence of the king, overlooking, owing to his solicitude, the respect due to the king, spoke thus: 'Pray, do it not.
26. 'You are holding an empire, which is vying with the riches of Sakra, to the attainment of which no one can aspire without a large amount of penance and meditation, and the possession of which may pave with numerous sacrifices the way to glory and Heaven; and you care not for it! and you are willing to give away both your eyes! With what aim do you wish so? Where on earth has there been seen such a way of proceeding?
27. 'By your sacrifices you have gained a place among the celestial gods, your fame is shining far and wide, your feet reflect the splendour of the head-ornaments of the kings (your vassals)—what then is it that you long for to give up your eyesight?'
But the king answered that minister in a gentle tone:
28. 'It is not the realm of the whole earth for which I am striving in this manner, nor is it Heaven, nor final extinction, nor glory, but with the intention of becoming a Saviour of the World I now provide that this man's labour of asking be not fruitless.'
Then the king ordered one eye of his, the lovely brightness of which appeared like a petal of a blue lotus, to be extirpated after the precepts of the physicians gradually and intact, and with the greatest gladness he had it handed over to the beggar, who asked it. Now Sakra, the Lord of the Devas, by the power of magic produced an illusion of such a kind that the king and his bystanders saw that eye filling up the eye-hole of the old Brâhman. When the king beheld the eye-asker in the possession of one unclosed eye, his heart expanded with the utmost delight, and he presented him with the other eye too.
29. The eyes being given away, the king's visage looked like a lotus-pond without lotuses, yet it bore the expression of satisfaction, not shared however by the citizens. On the other hand, the Brâhman was seen with sound eyes.
30. In the inner apartments of the palace as well as in the town, everywhere tears of sorrow moistened the ground. But Sakra was transported with admiration and satisfaction, seeing the king's unshaken intention of attaining Supreme Wisdom (Sambodhi).
And in this state of mind he entered into this reflection:
31. 'What a constancy! What a goodness and a longing for the food of the creatures! Though I witnessed the fact, I can scarcely believe it.
'It is not right, then, that this person of marvellous goodness should endure this great hardship for a long time. I will try to render him his eyesight by showing him the way for it.'
Afterwards, when time had healed the wounds caused by the operation, and lessened and almost lulled the sorrow of the inhabitants of the palace, the town, and the country, it happened one day that the king, desirous of solitary retirement, was sitting with crossed legs in his garden on the border of a pond of lotuses. That spot was beset by fair and fine trees bent down by the weight of their flowers; swarms of bees were humming; a gentle, fresh, and odoriferous wind was blowing agreeably. Suddenly Sakra, the Lord of the Devas, presented himself before the king. Being asked who he was, he answered:
32 a. 'I am Sakra, the Lord of the Devas, I have come to you.'
Thereupon the king welcomed him and said that he waited for his orders. After being thus complimented, he again addressed the king:
32 b. 'Choose some boon, holy prince (râgarshi); say on what thou desirest.'
Now the king being ever wont to give, and having never trodden the way of miserable begging, in conformity with his astonishment and his lofty mind spoke to him:
33, 34. 'Great is my wealth, Sakra, my army is large and strong; my blindness, however, makes death welcome to me. It is impossible for me, after supplying the wants of the mendicants, to see their faces brightened by gladness and joy; for this reason, O Indra, I love death now.'
Sakra said: 'No more of that resolution! Only virtuous persons come in such a state as thine. But this thou must tell me:
35. 'It is the mendicants who have caused thee to come in this state; how is it that thy mind is occupied with them even now? Say on! do not hide the truth from me and thou mayst take the way to immediate cure[33].'
The king replied: 'Why dost thou insist upon my boasting myself? Hear, however, Lord of the Devas.
36. 'As surely as the supplicatory language of begging people both now and before is as pleasing to my ears as the sound of benedictions, so surely may one eye appear to me!'
No sooner had the king pronounced these words than by the power of his firm veracity and his excellent store of meritorious actions one eye appeared to him, resembling a piece of a lotus-petal, encompassing a pupil like sapphire. Rejoiced at this miraculous appearance of his eye, the king again spoke to Sakra:
37. 'And as surely as, after giving away both eyes to him who asked but one, my mind knew no other feeling but the utmost delight, so surely may I obtain also the other eye!'
The king had hardly finished, when there appeared to him another eye, the rival, as it were, of the first one.
38-40. Upon this the earth was shaken with its mountains; the ocean flowed over its borders; the drums of the celestials spontaneously uttered deep-toned and pleasing sounds; the sky in all directions looked placid and lovely; the sun shone with pure brightness as it does in autumn[34]; a great number of various flowers, tinged by the sandal powder which was whirling around, fell down from heaven; the celestials, including Apsarasas and Ganas, came to the spot, their eyes wide opened with amazement; there blew an agreeable wind of extreme loveliness; gladness expanded in the minds of the creatures.
41-43. From all parts were heard voices of praise, uttered by crowds of beings endowed with great magic power. Filled with joy and admiration, they glorified the great exploit of the king in such exclamations: 'Oh, what loftiness! what compassion! see the purity of his heart, how great it is! oh, how little he cares for his own pleasures! Hail to thee, renowned one, for thy constancy and valour! The world of creatures has recovered their protector in thee, of a truth, as the lustre of thy eye-lotuses has again expanded! Surely, the stores of merit are solid treasures! After a long time Righteousness has, indeed, obtained an immense victory!'
Then Sakra applauded him, 'Very well, very well!' and spoke again:
44, 45. 'Thy true feeling was not hidden from me, pure-hearted king; so I have but rendered thee these eyes of thine. And by means of them thou wilt have the unencumbered power of seeing in all directions over one hundred of yoganas, even beyond mountains.'
Having said these words, Sakra disappeared on the spot.
Then the Bodhisattva, followed by his officials[35], whose wide-opened and scarcely winking eyes indicated the astonishment that filled their minds, went up in procession to his capital. That town exhibited a festival attire, being adorned with hoisted flags and manifold banners, the citizens looking on and the Brâhmans praising the monarch with hails and benedictions. When he had seated himself in his audience-hall, in the midst of a great crowd, made up of the ministers in the first place, of Brâhmans and elders, townsmen and countrymen, all of whom had come to express their respectful congratulations; he preached the Law to them, taking for his text the account of his own experience.
46-48. 'Who in the world, then, should be slow in satisfying the wants of the mendicants with his wealth, who has beheld how I have obtained these eyes of mine, endowed with divine power, in consequence of charity-gathered merit? In the circumference of one hundred of yoganas I see everything, though hidden by many mountains, as distinctly as if it were near. What means of attaining bliss is superior to charity, distinguished by commiseration with others and modesty? since I, by giving away my human eyesight, have got already in this world a superhuman and divine vision.
49. 'Understanding this, Sibis, make your riches fruitful by gifts and by spending[36]. This is the path leading to glory and future happiness both in this world and in the next.
50. 'Wealth is a contemptible thing, because it is pithless; yet it has one virtue, that it can be given away by him who aims at the welfare of the creatures; for if given away, it becomes a treasure (nidhâna), otherwise its ultimate object is only death (nidhana).'
So, then, it is by means of hundreds of difficult hardships that the Lord obtained this excellent Law for our sake; for this reason its preaching is to be heard with attention. This story is also to be told on account of the high-mindedness of the Tathâgata, just as the foregoing[37]. Likewise when discoursing of compassion, and when demonstrating the result of meritorious actions appearing already in this world: 'in this manner the merit, gathered by good actions, shows already here (in this world) something like the blossom of its power, the charming flowers of increasing glory.'
In the list of the contents of the Avadânakalpalatâ which Somendra added to that poem of his father Kshemendra, I do not find our avadâna, unless it should happen to be included in No. 91, which deals with a king of the Sibis. But the edition which is being published in the Bibl. Indica is not yet so far advanced. For the rest, like the story of the tigress, it is alluded to in the second pallava, verse 108: 'And in my Sibi-birth I gave away both my eyes to a blind man, and with (the gift of) my body preserved a pigeon from the danger caused by a falcon.'
(Comp. the Pâli Gâtaka, No. 415, Fausb. III, 406-414; Divyâvadâna VII, p. 88, Cowell's ed.; Kathâsarits. XXVII, 79-105.)
Any gift that proceeds from faith of the heart and is bestowed on a worthy recipient produces a great result; there does not exist at all anything like a trifling gift of that nature, as will be taught by the following.
In the time, when our Lord was still a Bodhisattva, he was a king of Kosala. Though he displayed his royal virtues, such as energy, discretion, majesty, power, and the rest in an exceedingly high degree, the brilliancy of one virtue, his great felicity, surpassed the others.
1. His virtues, being embellished by his felicity, shone the more; as the moonbeams do, when autumn makes their splendour expand.
2. Fortune, who dwelt with him, distributed her wrath and favour to the other kings in such a manner, that she abandoned his enemies, however proud, but like an amorous woman cherished his vassals.
3. His righteousness, however, prevented his mind from doing ill; so he did not oppress at all his adversaries. But his dependents displayed their affection for him in such a degree, that Fortune would not stay with his foes.
Now one day this king recollected his last previous existence. In consequence of remembering this he felt greatly moved. He bestowed still greater gifts in charity—the motive and essential cause of happiness—on Sramanas and Brâhmans, the wretched and the beggars; he fostered unceasingly his observance of good conduct (sîla); and he kept strictly the poshadha[38] restrictions on sabbath-days. Moreover, as he was desirous of bringing his people into the way of salvation by magnifying the power of meritorious actions, he was in the habit of uttering with a believing heart in his audience-hall as well as in the inner apartments of his palace these two stanzas, full of import:
4. 'Attending on Buddhas[39] by paying them honour, howsoever little, cannot produce a trifling fruit. This has been taught before only by words, now it may be seen. Look at the rich affluence of the fruit, produced by a small portion of saltless, dry, coarse, reddish-brown gruel.
5. 'This mighty army of mine with its beautiful chariots and horses and its dark-blue masses of fierce elephants; the sovereignty of the whole earth; great wealth; Fortune's favour; my noble wife: behold the beauty of this store of fruit, produced by a small portion of coarse gruel.'
Neither his ministers nor the worthiest among the Brâhmans nor the foremost among the townsmen, though tormented with curiosity, ventured to question the king as to what he meant by these two stanzas which he was in the habit of reciting every moment. Now by the king's incessant repeating of them the queen also grew curious; and as she felt less embarrassment in putting forth her request, one day, the opportunity of entering into conversation upon this subject presenting itself, she put this question in full audience to him:
6, 7. 'Verily, at all times, my lord, you are reciting, as if you were giving vent to the gladness which is within your heart. But my heart is troubled by curiosity at your speaking so. If my person is allowed to hear it, say on, then, what you mean by this utterance, sir. A secret is nowhere proclaimed in this manner; therefore, it must be a matter of public knowledge, and I may ask you about it.'
Then the king cast a mild look of gladness on his queen, and with a smile-blooming face he spoke:
8, 9. 'When hearing this utterance of mine without perceiving its cause, it is not only you, that are excited by curiosity, but also the whole of my officials, my town, and my zenana are troubled and disturbed by the desire of knowing the meaning of it. Listen, then, to what I am going to say.
10. 'Just as one who awakes from sleep, I remember my existence, when I lived a servant in this very town. Although I was keeping good conduct, I earned a sorry livelihood by performing hired labour for people elevated only because of their wealth.
11. 'So one day I was about to begin my service for hire, that abode of toil, contempt, and sorrow, striving to support (my family) and fearing, lest I should lack the means of sustenance myself; when I saw four Sramanas with subdued senses, accompanied as it were by the bliss of monkhood, going about for alms.
12. 'After bowing to them with a mind softened by faith, I reverentially entertained them in my house with a small dish of gruel. Out of that sprout has sprung this tree of greatness, that the glitterings of the crest-jewels of other kings are now reflected in the dust on my feet.
13. 'Thinking of this, I recite these stanzas, my queen, and for this reason I find satisfaction in doing meritorious actions and receiving Arhats.'
Then the queen's face expanded with gladness and surprise. She raised her eyes respectfully to the king, saying: 'Highly probable, indeed, is it that such very great prosperity is the fruit produced by meritorious actions, since you, great king, being yourself a witness of the result of meritorious actions, are so anxious for (gathering) merit. For this very reason you are disinclined to evil actions, disposed to protect your subjects duly like a father, and intent on earning plenty of merit.
14. 'Shining with illustrious glory enhanced by charity, vanquisher of your rival kings waiting with bent heads for your orders, may you for a long time with a righteous management rule the earth up to its wind-wrinkled ocean-border!'
The king said: 'Why should this not be? my queen!
15. 'In fact, I will endeavour to keep once more the path leading to salvation, of which I have noted the lovely marks. People will love giving, having heard the fruit of charity; how should not I be liberal, having experienced it in myself?'
Now the king, tenderly looking on his queen, beheld her shining with almost divine splendour, and desiring to know the reason of that brightness, said again:
16. 'Like the crescent amidst the stars you shine in the midst of the women. Say, what deed have you done, my dear, having this very sweet result?'
The queen replied: 'O yes, my lord, I too have some remembrance of my life in my former birth.' Now, as the king gently entreated her to tell it, she spoke:
17, 18. 'Like something experienced in my childhood I recollect that being a slave, after giving with devotion to a Muni with extinguished passions the remnants of one dish, I fell asleep there, as it were, and arose from sleep here. By this wholesome action, my prince, I remember, I have obtained you for my lord, sharing you with the earth. What you said: "surely, no benefit given to holy persons who have extinguished their passions, can be a small one"—these very words were then spoken by that Muni.'
Then the king, perceiving that the assembly was overcome by feelings of piety and amazement, and that the manifestation of the result of merit had roused in their minds a high esteem for meritorious actions, earnestly pressed on the audience something like this:
19. 'How is it possible, then, that anybody should not devote himself to performing meritorious actions by practising charity and good conduct, after seeing this large and splendid result of a good action however small? No, that man is not even worth looking at, who inwrapt in the darkness of avarice, should decline to make himself renowned for his gifts, though being wealthy enough to do so.
20. 'If by abandoning in the right manner wealth, once necessarily to be left and so of no use at all, any good quality may be acquired: who, then, knowing the charm of virtues, would follow in this matter the path of selfishness? And different virtues, in truth, gladness, &c., being followed by good renown, are founded on charity.
21. 'Almsgiving is a great treasure, indeed, a treasure which is always with us and is inaccessible to thieves and the rest[40]. Almsgiving cleanses the mind from the dirt of the sins of selfishness and cupidity; it is an easy vehicle by which to relieve the fatigue of the travel through Samsâra; it is our best and constant friend, that seeks to procure manifold pleasure and comfort for us.
22. 'All is obtained by almsgiving, whatever may be wished for, whether it be abundance of riches or brilliant domination, or a residence in the city of the Devas, or beauty of the body. Who, considering this matter so, should not practise almsgiving?
23. 'Almsgiving, it is said, constitutes the worth of riches; it is also called the essential cause of dominations, the grand performance of piety. Even rags for dress, given away by the simple-minded, are a well-bestowed gift.'
The audience respectfully approved this persuasive discourse of the king, and felt inclined to the exercise of charity and the like.
So any gift that proceeds from faith of the heart, and is bestowed on a worthy recipient, produces a great result; there does not exist at all anything like a trifling gift of that nature. [For this reason, by giving with a faithful heart to the Congregation of the Holy[41]—that most excellent ground fit for (sowing) meritorious actions—one may obtain the utmost gladness, considering thus: 'such blessings, and even greater than these, may erelong occur to me too.']
(Comp. the Pâli Gâtaka, No. 40, Fausb. I, 231-234.)
The pious wish to exercise almsgiving even in spite of imminent peril; who, then, should not be charitable when safe? This will be taught as follows.
In the time, when our Lord was still a Bodhisattva, he was a head of a guild. In consequence of the excessive favour of his destiny, and owing to his own great activity, he had acquired a large estate. His fairness and integrity in commercial transactions procured him the highest esteem among the people; he was born of an illustrious family; he had acquainted himself with various branches of learning and art, and by them purified his mind. These qualities and his noble virtues caused him to be honoured by the king. As he was always keeping the precept of almsgiving, he shared his opulence with the people.
1. The mendicants loving him, praised his name far and wide, so as to fill all parts of the horizon with the high reputation of his prowess as an almsgiver.
2. With him, no one indigent was floating on the swing of doubt as to whether he would give or not. Trusting in this benefactor of renowned exploits, the mendicants were bold enough to put forth their wants freely.
3. And he, for his part, did not keep his wealth from them, neither for his own pleasures, nor striving to emulate others, nor overcome by avarice. It was impossible for him to see the suffering of the mendicants, and for this reason he avoided saying 'no' to them.
One day, at meal-time, when the Great Being had just bathed and anointed himself, and a complete dinner made up of various dishes of hard and soft food and the rest, dressed by skilled and excellent cooks, and so prepared as to please by their colour, smell, taste, touch, &c., was served up, a mendicant came near his house. It was a Pratyekabuddha, who by the fire of his knowledge had burned away all the fuel of innate evil passions, and now desired to increase the merit of the Bodhisattva. He placed himself in the gateway.
4. There he stood without apprehension, without agitation, looking firmly and quietly[42] to no greater distance before him than the length of a yoke[43], in a quiet attitude, holding his lotus-white fingers clasped on his almsbowl.
Now Mâra, the Wicked One, could not bear the Bodhisattva to enjoy that bliss of almsgiving. In order to put an obstacle in his way, he created by magic between the Reverend and the threshold of the entrance-door a very deep hell measuring several fathoms in width. It offered a dreadful sight, accompanied with terrible sounds; tremulous flames were burning awfully within; it contained many hundreds of men in great agony.
In the meanwhile the Bodhisattva, seeing the Pratyekabuddha come in search of alms, said to his wife: 'My dear, go yourself and give an abundant portion of food to the holy man.' She said she would do so, and went off with excellent hard and soft food; but beholding the hell near the gateway, she suddenly turned on her heels, terror-stricken and with bewildered looks. When her husband asked her what was the matter, she could hardly tell; the sudden fright had almost barred her throat. As the Bodhisattva, however, was uneasy at the thought that this holy man might turn back from his house without receiving his beeped meal, he did not heed what she told him, but taking the excellent hard and soft food, came himself, desiring to fill with it the almsbowl of the Great-Minded One. When he arrived near the gateway, he saw that most dreadful hell between. And whilst he considered what could be the meaning of this, Mâra, the Wicked One, went out of the house-wall, and showing his divine and marvellous shape, stood in the air, and, as if he wished to do good to the Bodhisattva, spoke: 'Householder, this is the great hell, named Mahâraurava.
5. 'Here is the abode—an abode, out of which it is difficult to escape—of those who, greedy of the praising voices of the beggars, desire to give away wealth, indulging in the vicious passion for charity. In this hell they must stay for many thousands of autumns.
6. 'Material prosperity (artha) is the principal cause of the world's regular striving after the triad of objects. Whoso injures artha, injures righteousness (dharma) too[44]. How is it possible, then, that the injurer of righteousness by destroying material prosperity, should not stay in hell?
7. 'Thou hast sinned, being attached to charity and destroying thy wealth, which is the root of dharma. For this reason this flame-tongued hell, that looks like the face of Narakântaka[45], has come to thy encounter in order to devour thee.
8. 'Well then, desist from giving, lest thou immediately fall down and share the fate of those almsgivers, who shrink away from pain and are weeping piteously.
9. 'The recipients, on the other hand, who have ceased from the bad custom of giving, obtain the rank of Devas. Therefore, desist from thy effort for charity, which obstructs the way to Heaven, and rather apply thyself to restraint[46].'
The Bodhisattva, however, knew him: 'Surely, this is an attempt of the Evil One to thwart my almsgiving.' And understanding so, he made, in truth, a vigorous reply, yet in accordance with his firm attachment to virtue, without breaking modesty and kindness of words. He spoke thus to him:
10-12. 'It is with respect to my welfare, that thou hast had the kindness to show me the path of the pious. Indeed, it is most proper for divine beings to show by their actions their skill in feeling compassion for others. Nevertheless, it would have been wise to use that way of stopping the illness before its appearance, or immediately after its first symptoms. For if a sickness have already made progress[47] by the fault of bad treatment, the desire for cure will but tend to calamity. So this passion of mine for charity has already spread, I fear, beyond the compass of medical cure, inasmuch as my mind will never shrink from almsgiving, notwithstanding thy well-wishing counsel.
13, 14. 'As for what thou saidst about unrighteousness arising from charity and wealth being the principal cause of righteousness, my weak human understanding cannot grasp how wealth without charity can be called the path of virtue. Why, tell me, please, at what time is it that wealth produces virtue? whether when laid up as a treasure, or when robbed violently by thieves, or when sunk away to the bottom of the sea, or when having become fuel for fire?
15, 16. 'Further, thou saidst, "the giver goes to hell and the receiver to the celestial abodes." Speaking so, however, thou hast increased my longing for works of charity, though endeavouring to restrain me. Yea, may that word of thine be fulfilled, and those who beg from me rise to heaven! For it is not as a means of procuring my own happiness that I give in charity, but I love charity that I may do good to the world.'
Then Mâra, the Wicked One, once more addressed the Bodhisattva, speaking earnestly as though he were a well-meaning friend.
17. 'Decide thyself, whether I have spoken for thy good or idle talk, and afterwards go as thou desirest. Thou shalt remember me with high regard—either happy or remorseful.'
The Bodhisattva said: 'Sir, thou must excuse me.
18. 'I will fall of my own accord into this fiercely blazing hell headlong, a prey to the flames, that will lick at me, rather than at the due time of honouring the mendicants, who show me their affection by requesting from me, incur the guilt of neglecting them.'
After so speaking, the Bodhisattva—relying on the power of his destiny and knowing that almsgiving cannot at any rate entail evil—stepped forth across the hell without heeding his family and his attendants, who were eager to withhold him; his mind was not overcome by terror, and his desire of giving was still increased.
19. Then, owing to the power of his merit, in the midst of the hell a lotus sprang up, not rooted in mud like other lotuses[48]. With its row of stamen-teeth[49] it seemed to laugh contemptuously at Mâra.
And with the aid of the lotus, produced out of the large amount of his merit, the Bodhisattva having reached the Pratyekabuddha, filled his bowl with food, while his heart was expanding with gladness and joy.
20. The monk, in order to show his satisfaction, rose into the air. There he displayed his splendour, raining and flaming with as great a majesty as a cloud from which appear flashes of lightning.
21. Mâra, on the other hand, seeing his design overturned, was in low spirits and lost accordingly his splendour. He dared no longer look in the face of the Bodhisattva, and soon he disappeared with his hell.
Why has this been taught? (For this purpose): in this manner the pious wish to exercise almsgiving even in spite of imminent peril; who, then, should not be charitable when safe? [Further this too is to be propounded: 'the virtuous cannot be induced even by fear to take the wrong way.']
(Comp. the Pâli Gâtaka, No. 340, Fausb. III, 128-132.)[50]
The virtuous do not allow themselves to be deficient in the virtue of charity either from respect to the loss of their fortune, or from the prospect of riches, as will be taught in the following.
In the time, when our Lord was yet a Bodhisattva, he was the head of a guild, born of an illustrious family. He possessed many virtues: liberality, modesty, morals, sacred learning, spiritual knowledge[51], humility, &c. His affluent riches made him appear another Kubera. He spent them by admitting everybody as his guest and practising charity like an everlasting sacrifice (sattra). In short, he was the best of almsgivers and lived for the good of mankind. On account of his being invincible by vices, selfishness, and the rest, he was known under the name of Avishahya (that is, 'the Invincible One').
1. The sight of the mendicants had the same effect on him, as he had on the mendicants. On both sides it was a principal cause of gladness, since it destroyed the uncertainty as to the attainment of the object wished for.
2. When requested to give, he was not capable of saying 'no.' His great compassion had left no room in his heart for attachment to wealth.
3. His joy rose to the highest pitch, when mendicants carried away the best things out of his house. For he knew those so-called goods to be the source of violent and heavy calamities, and therefore to cause dissatisfaction in a short time and without any apparent reason.
4. As a rule, indeed, riches, being joined with covetousness, may be called caravans on the road towards wretchedness. With him, on the contrary, they conduced to the bliss of both himself and others; his goods appeared to be what is signified by their name.
So then, that Great Being bestowed large gifts on the mendicant people all around, and satisfied them wholly, giving to each according to his desire and generously, and adorning his bounty by paying a pious respect to the requesters. When Sakra, the Lord of the Devas, heard of his lofty munificence, he was transported with amazement; and wishing to try the firmness of his resolution, he caused the every-day provisions of money, grains, jewels, clothes to disappear day after day; 'perhaps, so he thought, his apprehension at least of the loss of his goods may entice him to self-interest.' Nevertheless, the Great Being remained intent on the virtue of charity.
5. As often as his goods disappeared, like water-drops hit by the sun-darts, so often did he order them to be fetched again from his house, as if it were on fire, and continued his large gifts.
Sakra, the Lord of the Devas, understanding the Great Being to be bent as intently as ever on deeds of charity, although his riches always went on decreasing, his amazement grew. Now he concealed the whole of his wealth in one night, except a coil of rope and a sickle. When the Bodhisattva, as usual, awoke at day-break, he nowhere saw his household goods, neither furniture, nor money, nor grains, nor clothes, nor even his attendants. His house looked quite empty, desolate, and sad, as if it were plundered by Râkshasas; in short, it offered an afflicting aspect. Then he began to reflect upon the matter; and searching about, he found nothing left but that coil of rope and that sickle. And he considered thus: 'Perhaps somebody, not accustomed to begging, but wont to get his livelihood by his own energy, has in this manner shown a favour to my house. In that case, my goods are well spent. If, however, by the fault of my destiny, some person whom my high rank has made envious, has caused them to run away without being of use to any one, it is a great pity.
6. 'The fickleness of Fortune's friendship was known to me long before; but that the indigent have come to grief by it, on this account my heart aches.
7. 'When coming to my empty house, how will they feel, my mendicants, who for a long time were accustomed to the enjoyment of my gifts and my hospitality? Will they not be like thirsty people coming to a dried-up pond?'
Nevertheless, the Bodhisattva did not yield to the feeling of affliction and sadness, but kept the constancy of his mind, and though, being in this condition, he was not capable of asking others, not even his intimates, as he never had followed the course of getting his livelihood by begging. Moreover, since he experienced himself that it is hard to beg, his compassion for the begging people became still greater. Then that High-minded One, still with the disposition to earn, from those who lived by begging their food, kind words of welcome and the like, took that coil of rope and that sickle, and went out to weed grass day after day. With the little money he earned by selling the grass, he attended to the wants of the mendicants.
But Sakra, the Lord of the Devas, seeing his imperturbable calmness and his devotion to almsgiving even in a state of extreme poverty, was filled not only with astonishment, but also with admiration. Showing his wonderful celestial body, he stood in the air and spoke to the Great Being to dissuade him from giving: 'Householder,
8-10. 'Neither thieves have robbed thee of thy wealth, nor water, nor fire, nor princes. It is thy own largesses, that have brought thee into this condition, which alarms thy friends. For this reason I tell thee for thy own good: restrain thy passionate love of charity. Though being as poor as thou art now, if thou dost not give, thou mayst recover thy former beautiful riches. By constant consuming of however little at a time, possessions fade; by gathering ant-hills become high. For him who sees this, the only way of increasing his property is self-restraint.'
The Bodhisattva, however, displayed his high-mindedness and his constant practice of charity, when he answered Sakra in this manner:
11. 'A gentleman (ârya), however distressed, will scarcely do anything ignoble (anârya), O thou Thousand-eyed One! Never let such wealth be mine, O Sakra, to obtain which I should have to live as a miser.
12, 13. 'Who, thinking himself to belong to an honest family, would strike with the clear-sky thunderbolt of his refusal the wretched men who desire to find a remedy for their misery by death-like begging? Is it possible, then, that such a one as I am, should accept any jewel, or wealth, or even the realm among the Celestials, and not use it for the purpose of gladdening the faces of the beggars, grown pale by the pain of asking?
14. 'Such receiving as would only tend to increase the vice of selfishness, not to strengthen the propensity to give away, must be entirely abandoned by such as me; for it is a calamity in disguise.
15. 'Wealth is as fickle as a flash of lightning; it may come to every one, and it is the cause of many calamities; but almsgiving is a source of happiness. This being so, how may a nobleman cling to selfishness?
16. 'Therefore, Sakra, thou hast shown me thy good nature, I thank thee also for thy commiseration and well-wishing words; yet my heart is too much accustomed to the gladness caused by deeds of charity. How, then, can it take delight in the wrong way?
17. 'Do not, however, bend thy mind to anger on this account, I pray thee! Indeed, it is impossible to assault the hostile fortress of my native character with small forces.'
Sakra spoke: 'Householder, what thou describest is the line of conduct for a wealthy man, whose treasury and granary are full to the top, for whom manifold and abundant work is well-performed (by his servants), who has assured his future, and has gained domination among men, but that conduct does not suit thy condition. See,
18-20. 'Thou must, before all, through honest business either carried on by exerting thy own sagacity, or by following the traditional line of trade of thy family, in so far as it be compatible with thy fame, gather riches surpassing, like the sun, the splendour of thy rivals; then on proper occasions, display thy opulence to the people, and rejoice by it thy relations and friends. Afterwards, having obtained due honour even from the part of the king and enjoying Fortune's favour, like the embrace of a loving sweetheart, if then there may arise in thee the inclination for charity or worldly pleasures, nobody will blame thee. But the sole love of charity without means makes a man come to calamity and resemble a bird desiring to rise in the air with wings not yet full-grown.
21. 'Therefore, thou must acquire wealth by practising restraint and pursuing humble aims, and meanwhile give up the longing for almsgiving. And what meanness can there be in this after all, if thou dost not give, possessing nothing?'
The Bodhisattva replied: 'Pray, thy Highness must not urge me.
22, 23. 'Even he who cares more for his own interest than for the benefit of others, ought to give in charity, not caring for riches. For great opulence affords him no such gladness, as is caused by the satisfaction he enjoys by subduing covetousness with charitable deeds. Add to this, that mere riches do not lead to Heaven, but charity alone is sufficient to obtain a holy reputation; further, that riches are an impediment to the subduing of selfishness and the other vices. Who, then, should not observe charity?
24. 'He, however, who in order to protect the creatures surrounded by old age and death, desires to give away his very self in alms, moved by compassion; he whom the sufferings of others forbid to enjoy the relish of pleasures; say, of what use will be to him the very great bliss, possessed by thee?
'Hear also this, Lord of the Devas.
25. 'The duration of our life is as uncertain as the prosperity of our wealth. Thus reflecting, we must not care for riches, when getting a mendicant.
26. 'If one carriage has beaten a track on the ground, a second goes by that track with some confidence, and so on. For this reason I will not spurn this first good road, nor prefer conducting my carriage on the wrong path.
27. 'And should I once more come to great wealth, it shall to a certainty enrapture the minds of the mendicants; and for the present, even in this condition, I will give alms according to my means. And may I never be careless in keeping my vow of charity, Sakra!'
On these words Sakra, the Lord of the Devas, being wholly propitiated, exclaimed with praise: 'Excellent, excellent,' and looking at him with admiration and kindness, spoke:
28, 29. '(Other) people run after riches by every trade, be it low and rough and prejudicial to their reputation, not minding danger, since they are attached to their own pleasures and misguided by their inconsiderateness. Thou, on the contrary, dost not mind the loss of thy wealth, nor the deficiency of thy pleasures, nor my temptation; keeping thy mind firmly intent on promoting the welfare of others, thou hast manifested the greatness of thy excellent nature!
30. 'Ah! how thy heart shines with the lustre of exceeding loftiness, and how it has wiped off entirely the darkness of selfish feelings, that even after the loss of thy riches the hope for recovering them cannot spoil it by bringing about reduction of its charitableness!
31. 'Yet, since thou sufferest at the suffering of others, and moved by compassion strivest for the good of the world, it is no wonder after all, that I have not been able to deter thee from almsgiving. As little is the Snow-bright Mountain shaken by the wind.
32. 'But it is in order to enhance thy fame by trial, that I have hidden that wealth of thine. Not otherwise than by trial can a gem, though beautiful, reach the great value of a renowned jewel.
33. 'Well then, pour thy gifts down on the mendicants, satisfy them as a great rain-cloud fills the pools. By my favour thou shalt never experience the loss of thy wealth, and thou must forgive me my behaviour towards thee.'
After praising him so, Sakra restored his large estate to him, and obtained his pardon, then he disappeared on the spot.
In this manner, then, the virtuous do not allow themselves to be deficient in the virtue of charity either through regard to the loss of their fortune, or through the prospect of riches.
(Comp. the Pâli Gâtaka, No. 316, Fausb. III, 51-56; Kariyâpitaka I, 10; Avadânasataka in Féer's transl. Ann. du Musée Guimet, XVIII, 142[52].)
The practice of charity according to their power by the Great-minded, even when in the state of beasts, is a demonstrated fact; who then, being a man, should not be charitable? This is taught by the following.
In some inhabited region of a forest there was a spot frequented by ascetics. It was beset with thickets made up of lovely creepers, grasses, and trees; abounding in flowers and fruits; adorned on its boundary with a river, the stream of which was as blue and as pure as lapis lazuli; its ground, covered with a carpet of tender grass, was soft to the touch and handsome to look at. There the Bodhisattva lived a hare.
1. In consequence of his goodness, his splendid figure, his superior strength, and his great vigour, not suspected by the small animals nor fearing others, he behaved like the king of animals in that part of the forest.
2. Satisfying his wants with blades of grass, he bore the handsome appearance of a Muni. For the ascetic's skin he wore his own, his bark-garment was the hairs of his body.
3. As everything he did in thought, speech, and action was purified by his friendliness, most of the animals given to wickedness were like his pupils and friends[53].
But more especially he had caught the hearts of an otter, a jackal, and an ape. They became his companions, attracted by the love and respect which his eminent virtues inspired in them. Like relations whose affection is founded on mutual relationship, like friends whose friendship has grown by the compliance to each other's wishes, they passed their time rejoicing together. Opposed to the nature of the brutes, they showed compassion to living beings, and their cupidity being extinguished, they forgot to practise theft. By this behaviour and by their having regard to good renown conformably to (the precepts of) righteousness (dharma), by their keen understanding and, owing to this, by their close observance of religious obligations in the manner approved by the pious, they roused even the surprise of the deities.
4, 5. If out of the two lines of conduct—that which complies with pleasures and checks virtue, and that which is in accordance with virtue and obstructs pleasures—a man applies himself to the virtuous side, he is already illustrious, how much more a being that has the shape of a beast! But among them, he who bore the figure of a hare and was their teacher, was so pious, he esteemed the practice of compassion for others so highly, and his excellent native character was accompanied by such a set of virtues, that their renown reached even the world of the Devas.
One day at evening-time, the Great-minded One was in the company of his friends, who had come to him to hear him preach the Law and reverentially sat down at his feet. The moon, then being at a great distance from the sun, showed its orb almost full and resembling by its bright beauty a silver mirror without handle. When the Bodhisattva beheld it showing its disc not fully rounded on one side[54], and considered that it was the moon of the fourteenth of the bright half, that had risen, he said to his comrades:
6. 'See! The moon by the beauty of its almost complete orb is announcing with a laughing face as it were the holyday of sabbath (poshadha) to the pious.
'Surely, to-morrow is the fifteenth. Ye must perform accordingly the religious duties which are prescribed for the sabbath, and not satisfy the want of sustaining your body before honouring some guest at the time appearing with excellent food obtained in a right manner. Ye must consider thus:
7, 8. 'Every union has separation at its end, of high rank the conclusion is dreary downfall; life is as frail and fickle as a flash of lightning. It is for this very reason, that ye must be upon your guard against carelessness (in the fulfilment of your duties), and also endeavour to increase your merit by charity, which has good conduct (sîla) for its ornament. Meritorious actions, indeed, are the strongest support for the creatures moving round in the troublesome succession of births.
9, 10. 'That the moon by its lovely brightness outdoes the lustre of the host of stars, that the sun's splendour overpowers the (other) luminaries, is due to the sublimity of the qualities produced by merit. It is also by the power of their merit that mighty kings cause presumptuous high officials and princes to bear, like excellent horses, willingly and with abated pride the yoke of their command.
11. 'But if they are devoid of merit, misfortune goes after them, be they ever moving about on the road of political wisdom (nîti)[55]. For that unhappiness, being rebuffed by the excess of merit, hovers, as if moved by wrath, round the possessors of demerit.
12. 'Leave then that path of demerit; suffering is underlying it, and it is connected with dishonour. But merit being the illustrious source and instrument of happiness, ye must keep your mind intent on all opportunities of gathering it.'
The others, after listening to his teaching, said amen, and saluting him with respect circumambulated him from left to right, then they went off each to his dwelling. When his comrades were not far off, the Great-minded One entered upon this reflection:
13-15. 'They are able to honour with some food or other the guest that may happen to arrive, but I am here in a pitiful condition. It is in no way possible to present a guest with the very bitter blades of grass I cut off with my teeth. Alas! how helpless I am! My powerlessness afflicts me. Of what use, then, is life to me, since a guest that ought to be a matter of joy to me, must in this manner become a matter of sorrow!
'On what occasion, then, may this worthless body, which is not even able to attend on a guest, be given up so as to conduce to the profit of anybody?' When his reflection had come to that point, the Great-minded One recovered his keenness of thought. 'Well!
16. 'The property which will suit the purpose of honouring any guest is easy to be got; for it is in my power; it is unobjectionable; it belongs to none but me; indeed, it is the property of my body.
'Why, then, should I be in trouble?
17. 'Yes, I have found proper food for my guest; now, my heart, abandon thy grief and thy sadness! With this vile body of mine I will practise hospitality and satisfy the want of my guest.'
Having thus resolved, the Great Being felt an extreme delight as though he had obtained a very great gain, and remained there (in his dwelling, waiting for some guest).
18. Now, when that sublime reflection had presented itself to the Great Being's mind, the Celestials manifested their propitiousness and their power.
19-21. Earth shook with her mountains, as if from joy, nor was her garment, the Ocean, quiet[56]; divine drums resounded in the sky; the regions of the horizon were ornamented with a placid sheen; all around clouds of a pleasant aspect, which were girded with lightnings and gave forth prolonged soft rattlings of thunder, strewed on him a shower of flowers falling close together, so as to spread the pollen through the air by their contact. The god of wind, too, showed him his esteem; blowing steadily he bore to him the fragrant flower-dust from various trees, as if out of gladness he presented him with gauzy veils, bearing them up and so disarranging the figures interwoven in them.
As the deities, rejoiced and astonished, were praising everywhere the marvellous resolution of the Great Being, Sakra, the Lord of the Devas, became aware of it; and curiosity and surprise overtaking his mind, he was desirous of knowing the truth about his disposition. On the next day at noon-tide, when the sun, ascending in the midst of the sky, darts his sharpest beams; when the horizon, clothed in a net of trembling rays of light and veiled with the outburst of radiant heat, does not suffer itself to be looked upon; when shadows are contracting; when the interior of the woods resounds with the loud shrieks of the cicadae; when birds cease to show themselves and the vigour of travelling people is exhausted by heat and fatigue: in that time of the day, then, Sakra, the chief (adhipati) of the Devas having assumed the figure of a Brâhman, cried out not far from the spot where the four animals were living. He wept and wailed aloud, like one who has lost his way, and as one worn out with hunger and thirst, weariness and sorrow.
22. 'Alone and astray, having lost my caravan, I am roaming through the deep forest, exhausted by hunger and lassitude. Help me, ye pious!
23. 'Not knowing the right way nor the wrong, having lost my faculty of orientation, wandering at random, alone in this wilderness, I suffer from heat, from thirst, from fatigue. Who will rejoice me by friendly words of hospitality?'
The Great Beings, touched in their heart and alarmed by the sound of his piteous outcries for help, quickly went to that spot, and beholding him who offered the miserable appearance of a traveller gone astray, approached him and in a respectful manner spoke to him these words of comfort:
24, 25. 'Be no more disturbed, thinking thou art astray in the wilderness; with us thou art altogether as if thou wert with thine own disciples. Therefore, grant us the favour of accepting to-day our attendance, gentle sir; to-morrow thou mayst go thy way according to thy wish.'
Then the otter, understanding from his silence that he accepted the invitation, went off hastily; joy and agitation quickened his pace. He came back with seven rohita-fishes, which he offered him, saying:
26. 'These seven fishes I found on the dry ground, where they were lying motionless, as if asleep through lassitude; either they have been left there by fishermen who forgot them, or they have jumped upon the shore through fear. Feed on them, and stay here.'
Then the jackal also brought to him such food as he happened to have at that time, and after bowing reverentially, he spoke with deference thus:
27. 'Here, traveller, is one lizard and a vessel of sour milk, left by somebody; grant me the benefit of thy enjoying them, and take thy abode in this forest this night, O thou who art an abode of virtues!'
So speaking he handed them over to him with an extreme gladness of mind.
Then the monkey drew near. He brought mango-fruits, ripe and consequently distinguished by their softness, their strong orange colour, as if they were dyed with red orpiment, their very red stalk-ends, and their roundness; and performing the reverence of the añgali, he spoke:
28. 'Ripe mangos, delicious water, shadow refreshing like the pleasure of good society, these things, O best of those who know the brahma, I have for thee. Enjoy them, and stay this night here.'
Then the hare approached, and as soon as he had made his reverence, he bade him accept the offer of his own body. Thus he spoke, looking up to him with great regard:
29. 'A hare, who has grown up in the forest, has no beans nor sesamum seeds nor grains of rice to offer, but prepare this body of mine with fire, and having fed upon it stay over this night in this hermitage.
30. 'On the holiday of a mendicant's arrival every one provides him with whatever of his goods may be a means of supplying his wants. But my wealth is limited to my body; take it, then, this whole of my possessions.'
Sakra answered:
31. 'How is it possible that anybody like me should kill another living being? And how much less a being like thee, who hast shown friendship to me?'
The hare said: 'Verily, this becomes well a Brâhman, inclined to compassion. Well then, thou must grant me at least the favour of resting here in this place; in the mean while I think I shall find in some way or other the means of showing my favour to thee.' Now Sakra, the Lord of the Devas, understanding his intention, created by magic a heap of charcoal burning without smoke; this mass had the colour of purified gold, very thin flames shot forth out of it, and a multitude of sparks were scattered about. The hare, who was looking around on all sides, perceived that fire. On seeing it, he said, rejoiced, to Sakra: 'I have found that means of showing thee my favour. Thou, then, must fulfil the hope with which I give thee this boon, and enjoy my body. See, great Brâhman,