42. 'So it is thanks to him that I got those holy stanzas, father. For this reason he is my benefactor, and is especially entitled to be an object of my commiseration.
'Cease also to be afraid of any misfortune threatening me, Your Majesty. How should he be capable of injuring me when I come back to him, as I went?' So speaking the High-minded One persuaded his father to give him leave. Then declining the entreaties of his friends and his faithful army, who were eager to prevent his going away, he set out for the dwelling of the son of Sudâsa, alone and free from fear and sadness, for he was keeping his faith, and marched with the aim of softening his heart, to the happiness of men.
As soon as the son of Sudâsa saw the Great Being approaching from afar, he became exceedingly astonished, and his esteem and liking for him increased. Not even his cruelty, however long practised and deep-rooted in his defiled mind, could prevent him from entering, indeed, upon a thought like this: 'Ah! Ah!!!
43. 'This is the wonder of wonders, to be sure, the marvel of marvels! That prince's lofty veracity exceeds all that may be expected of men and deities!
44. 'To me, a person as cruel-natured as Death, he comes back of himself, subduing fear and anxiety! Ah! What a constancy! Bravo for his veracity!
45. 'Justly, indeed, the renown of his truth-speaking is wide-spread, as he now gave up his life and royal state to keep his faith!'
While he was thus affected with amazement and admiration, the Bodhisattva drew near, saying:
46. 'I have obtained that treasure of well-said sentences, I have rewarded the indigent man who presented me with it, and gladness has been procured to my mind, thanks to you. Now I am back here. Eat me, if such is your desire, or use me as a victim at your sacrifice.'
The son of Sudâsa spoke:
47. 'I am not in a hurry to eat you; moreover, this funeral pile is still smoky, and flesh gets its proper relish only when roasted on a smokeless fire. Let us hear meanwhile these well-said sentences.'
The Bodhisattva replied: 'Of what use is it to you, in such a state, to listen to holy sentences?
48. 'You adopted this mode of living merciless to your subjects for the sake of your belly. Now these stanzas praise righteousness. Righteousness does not go together with injustice.
49. 'Following the wicked manner of life of Râkshasas and having left the way of the pious[227], you do not possess faith, still less righteousness. What will you do with holy texts?'
This contempt roused the impatience of the son of Sudâsa. He answered: 'Do not speak so, sir.
50. 'Where is that king, say, who does not kill with his bent bow in his park the mates of the hinds of the forest? If I in a similar way kill men for my livelihood, I am the unjust one, so it is said, not those killers of deer!'
The Bodhisattva spoke:
51. 'Neither do those stand on the ground of righteousness, whose bent bows are directed against the frightened and fleeing deer. But by far more reprehensible than those is a man-eater. Human beings, indeed, occupy by their birth the highest place (in the scale of creatures), and are not allowed to serve as food.'
Now, though the Bodhisattva had spoken very harsh words to the son of Sudâsa, the friendliness of his nature exercised such a power that it outweighed the ferocious nature of the man-eater. So he quietly heard this reproof, only he laughed aloud at it, then he spoke: 'Say, Sutasoma.
52. 'After being released by me and having reached your home and lovely residence resplendent with the lustre of royalty, you came back to me. For this reason you are not skilled in political wisdom, I suppose.'
The Bodhisattva said: 'You are wrong. On the contrary, I am skilled in political wisdom, and therefore I do not put it into effect.
53. 'What, in truth, is the worth of skill in an art, resorting to which brings about the certain fall from righteousness without bringing about happiness?
'Moreover, I tell you,
54. 'Those who are wise in directing their actions along the way of political wisdom, commonly get into calamities after death. Therefore I put aside the winding paths of artful politics and keeping my faith, came back.
55. 'Also by this I show it is I who am skilled in politics, that, leaving untruth, I delight in veracity. For no action is declared by competent judges in the science of politics to be well-managed which is not attended by good reputation, satisfaction, and interest.'
The son of Sudâsa spoke:
56. 'What is that interest you perceive to be attained by holding on veracity, that giving up your own dear life, your relations who shed tears at your departure, and the charming pleasures attendant on royalty, you returned to me, in order to keep your faith before all?'
The Bodhisattva spoke: 'Many kinds of virtues rest on veracity. Hear but the succinct account of them.
57. 'Veracity surpasses splendid garlands by its lovely grace and every sweet flavour by its sweetness; and inasmuch as it produces merit, that excellent good, without toil, it is superior to every kind of penance and the troublesome pilgrimages to tîrthas.
58. 'Affording to glory the opportunity of spreading among men, veracity is the way to its penetrating the three worlds. It is the entrance-door of the abode of the Celestials, the bridge to cross the swamps of Samsâra.'
Then the son of Sudâsa exclaimed: 'Excellent! right!' and bowing to him and casting an admiring look on him, said again:
59. 'The other men come into my power, are paralysed by affliction, and fear robs them of their courage. In you, on the contrary, I see a splendid imperturbation. I suppose, you are not afraid of death, my prince.'
The Bodhisattva spoke:
60. 'Of what use is cowardous fear, the most unfit means of prevention, against a thing which cannot be avoided even with great effort?
'Nevertheless, and though knowing the natural course of things in the world, people are poltroons against death.
61. 'It is the vexation of their mind in consequence of their wickedness; it is because they were wanting in exerting themselves to perform good actions; it is their apprehension of sufferings in the other world. That conscience makes them torpid from anxiety that they must die.
62. 'But I do not remember having done anything that should torture my conscience, and consequently I have imbibed pure actions into my very nature. Who, clinging to Righteousness, should be in fear of death?
63. 'Nor do I remember having made gifts to the indigent, which did not tend to the gladness of both the mendicants and myself. Who, having in this manner obtained contentment by his gifts, clinging to Righteousness, should be in fear of death?
64. 'Even when reflecting for a long time, I never recollect having taken any step towards evil, not even in my thoughts. So the path to Heaven is cleared for me. Why should I conceive fear of death?
65. 'On Brâhmans, on my relations and friends, on my dependents, on the poor, on ascetics who are the ornaments of their hermitages, I bestowed much wealth, giving according to the worthiness of the recipients; what each of them was in want of, that was done for him.
66. 'I built hundreds of magnificent temples, hospitals, court-yards, hermitages, halls, and tanks, and by this I obtained satisfaction. Therefore I do not fear death. Why, dress me for your sacrifice or eat me.'
On hearing this language, the son of Sudâsa was moved to tears of tenderness, the hairs on his body bristled, the darkness of his wicked nature vanished, and looking with reverence up to the Bodhisattva, he exclaimed: 'Beware! May the evil be averted!
67. 'Verily, may he who should wish evil to such a being as you, O foremost of princes, take the poison Hâlahala knowingly, or eat a furious serpent or flaming iron, or may his head, also his heart, burst asunder into a hundred pieces!
'Therefore you may tell me also those holy sentences. Touched to tenderness as I am by the flower-shower of your words, my curiosity to hear them grows stronger. Attend also to this.
68. 'Having beholden the ugliness of my conduct in the mirror of Righteousness, and being touched by emotion may I not, perhaps, be a person whose mind craves for the Law?'
Now the Bodhisattva, considering the eagerness of his desire to hear the Law, knew him to have become a fit vessel. He spoke: 'Being then desirous of hearing the Law, it is right that you listen to its preaching in the proper attitude suitable for that act. Look here.
69, 70. 'Sitting on a lower seat, which betokens illustrious modesty; enjoying the honey of the (sacred) words with eyes expanding from gladness, so to speak; bending one's mind calm and pure to the most intense reverential attention—in this way one must listen devoutly to the preaching of the Law, as a sick man to the words of a doctor.'
Then the son of Sudâsa covered a slab of stone with his upper garment, and having offered this higher seat to the Bodhisattva, himself sat down on the naked earth before the visage of the Bodhisattva. After which, keeping his eyes fixed with attention on his face, he invited the Great Being: 'Speak now, sir[228].' Then the Bodhisattva opened his mouth and filling as it were the forest with his voice deep and sonorous, like the lovely sound of a new-formed rain-cloud, spoke:
71.
On hearing this gâthâ, the son of Sudâsa exclaimed, 'Well said! well said!' and nodding his head and waving his fingers said to the Bodhisattva: 'Go on, go on.'
Then the Bodhisattva uttered the second gâthâ.
72.
The son of Sudâsa spoke:
73. 'You employed your wealth in the right manner, indeed; rightly you did not mind trouble, that you did your utmost, O virtuous one, to reward well-said sentences!
'Go on, go on.'
The Bodhisattva spoke:
74.
(The other replied): 'This is as a shower of ambrosia, to be sure. O how great a satisfaction you give me! Go on, go on.'
The Bodhisattva spoke:
75.
Then the son of Sudâsa, who in consequence of his gladness and surprise was filled with affection and reverence for the Bodhisattva, said to him:
76. 'Lovely are the gâthâs I heard from you. The elegance of their words is still surpassed by the brilliancy of their contents. By reciting them you have procured me gladness. Let me honour you in return by offering you four boons.
'Therefore, choose whatever you desire from my side.'
Then the Bodhisattva, astonished at this offering, and esteeming him for it, spoke: 'Who are you that you should bestow boons?
77. 'You have no power over yourself, being dominated by a passion for sinful actions. Say, what boon, then, will you give to another, you, whose heart is averse to pious conduct?
78. 'It might be that I were to declare the boon I would ask, but that your mind would be disinclined to give it. Who, being compassionate[230], would like to provoke such a calamity? Enough, enough have you done for me.'
On these words the son of Sudâsa was somewhat ashamed, and lowering his face, said to the Bodhisattva: 'I beg Your Honour not to have so mean an opinion of me.
79. 'I will give you your boons, even if it were to cost my life. Therefore, choose freely, prince, be it what it may be that you desire.'
The Bodhisattva spoke: 'Well then,
80. 'Give me these four precious boons. Take the vow of veracity; give up injuring living beings; release all your prisoners, nobody excepted; and never more eat human flesh, O you hero among men!'
The son of Sudâsa said:
81. 'I grant you the first three, but choose another fourth boon. Are you not aware that I am unable to desist from eating human flesh?'
The Bodhisattva spoke: 'Ah! Indeed! There you are! Did not I say "who are you that you should bestow boons?" Moreover,
82. 'How can you keep the vow of veracity and refrain from injuring others, O king, if you do not give up the habit of being an eater of human flesh?
'Fie upon you!
83. 'Did not you say before, you were willing to give these boons even at the risk of your life? But now you act quite otherwise.
84. 'And how should you abstain from injury, killing men in order to get their flesh? And this being so, what may be the value of the three boons you did grant me?'
The son of Sudâsa spoke:
85. 'How shall I be able to give up that very habit, because of which I renounced my kingdom, bore hardship in the wilderness, and suffered myself to kill my righteousness and destroy my good renown?'
The Bodhisattva replied: 'For this very reason you ought to give it up.
86. 'How should you not leave that state because of which you have lost your righteousness, your royal power, your pleasures, and your good renown? Why cling to such an abode of misfortune?
87. 'Besides, it is but the vilest among men who repent having given. How, then, should this meanness of mind subdue a person like you?
'Cease then, cease following after mere wickedness. You ought to stir up yourself now. Is not Your Honour the son of Sudâsa?
88. 'Meat examined by physicians and dressed by skilful (cooks) is at your disposal. You may take the flesh of domestic animals, of fishes living in water-basins, and also venison. With such meat satisfy your heart, but pray, desist from the reprehensible habit of eating human flesh.
89. 'How do you like to stay in this solitary forest and prefer it to your relations and children and your attendants (once) beloved? how prefer it to enjoying the melodious songs at night, the grave sounds of drums reminding you of water-clouds, and the other various pleasures of royalty?
90. 'It is not right, O monarch, that you allow yourself to be dominated by your passion. Take rather that line of conduct which is compatible with righteousness (dharma) and interest (artha). Having, all alone, vanquished in battle kings with their whole armies, do not become a great coward now, when you have to wage war with your passion.
91. 'And have you not to mind also the next world, O lord of men? For this reason you must not cherish what is bad, because it pleases you. But rather pursue that which is favourable to your renown and the way to which is a lovely one, and accept what is for your good, even though you dislike it, taking it as medicine.'
Then the son of Sudâsa was moved to tenderness and tears, which barred his throat with emotion. He threw himself before the Bodhisattva, and embracing his feet exclaimed:
92. 'Justly your fame pervades the world in all directions, spreading about the flower-dust of your virtues and the scent of your merit. For example, who else but you alone, in truth, could have felt compassion for such an evildoer as I was, accustomed to a cruel livelihood, which made me resemble a messenger of Death?
93. 'You are my master, my teacher, yea, my deity. I honour your words, accepting them with (bowed) head. Never more will I feed on human flesh, Sutasoma. Everything you told me I will accomplish according to your words.
94. 'Well then, those princes whom I brought here to be victims at my sacrifice, and who vexed by the sufferings of imprisonment have lost their splendour and are overwhelmed by grief, let us release them together, none excepted.'
The Bodhisattva, having promised him his assistance, set out with him to the very place where those royal princes were kept in confinement. And no sooner had they seen Sutasoma, than understanding that they were set at liberty, they became filled with extreme gladness.
95. At the sight of Sutasoma the royal princes became radiant with joy, and the loveliness of laughter burst out on their faces, in the same way as in the beginning of autumn the groups of waterlilies burst open, invigorated by the moonbeams.
And the Bodhisattva, having come to them, spoke to them comforting and kind words, and after making them take an oath not to do harm to the son of Sudâsa, released them. Then together with the son of Sudâsa and followed by those royal princes, he set out for his kingdom, and having there made to the princes and the son of Sudâsa an honourable reception according to their rank, he re-established them each on his royal throne.
In this manner meeting with a virtuous person, in whatever way it may have been occasioned, promotes salvation. Thus considering he who longs for salvation must strive after intercourse with virtuous persons. [This story may also be told when praising the Tathâgata: 'So Buddha the Lord always intent on doing good was a friend even to strangers still in his previous existences.' Likewise it is to be told, when discoursing on listening with attention to the preaching of the excellent Law: 'In this manner hearing the excellent Law tends to diminish wickedness and to acquire virtues.' Also it is to be told when extolling sacred learning: 'In this manner sacred learning has many advantages.' Likewise when discoursing on veracity: 'In this manner speaking the truth is approved by the virtuous and procures a large extent of merit.' And also when glorifying veracity, this may be propounded: 'In this manner the virtuous keep their faith without regard for their life, pleasures, or domination.' Likewise, when praising commiseration.]
Dr. S. d'Oldenburg has pointed out in his paper, quoted in my Introduction, p. xxii, another redaction of the story of Sutasoma in chap. 34 of the Bhadrakalpâvadâna, the contents of which are given in the translation of that paper, Journ. Roy. As. Soc, pp. 331-334. In some parts the account in that text is fuller, but for the most part, according to Dr. S. d'Oldenburg, it closely follows our Gâtakamâlâ, the verses of which it 'mostly copies word for word[231].' Nevertheless the extract shows one difference, I think, in a capital point. In the tale, as it is told by Sûra, Kalmâshapâda has already got his hundred princes, when he comes to carry away Sutasoma, but in the said extract of the Bhadrakalpâvadâna Sutasoma is the very hundredth one.
In the Mahâbhârata the legend of Kalmâshapâda Saudâsa, the man-eater, is told, I, adhy. 176 and 177. It is very different from the Buddhistic fashion, yet both versions must be derived from one source.
(Cp. the Pâli Gâtaka, No. 510, Fausb. IV, 491-499; Kariyâpitaka III, 3.)
To those, whose mind has been seized by emotion[233], even the brilliancy of royalty does not obstruct the way to salvation. Thus considering, one must make one's self familiar with the emotional state (samvega), as will be taught in the following.
At that time, when our Lord was still a Bodhisattva, seeing the world exposed to the assaults of hundreds of calamities: diseases, old age, death, separation from beloved persons, and so on, and understanding that it was woe-begone, without protector, without help, without guidance, He was impelled by His compassion to take the determination of saving the creatures according to His exceedingly good nature, bringing about again and again the good and the highest happiness even to people averse to him and unknown to him. At that time, then, he once took his birth, it is said, in a certain royal family distinguished for their modest behaviour and their surpassing lustre, which, in consequence of their intentness on possessing the affection of their subjects, was manifested by their increasing prosperity and riches without hindrance, as well as by the submissiveness of their proud vassals. His very birth adorned both that court and that capital, always sympathising with their princes in weal and woe, with the brilliant show of a festival day.
1, 2. (At the court) a large distribution of gifts filled the hands and satisfied the minds of Brâhmans, and the attendants were proud of their very brilliant festival garments[234]. (Outside the palace) the streets resounded with the tones of many instruments and with the blending noise of singing, jesting, laughing, as the gladness of the hearts manifested itself by various merriment, dancing, and wantonness. Everywhere people meeting told each other with exultation and embraces the happy news, which gave them the same contentment as a present, and they magnified the felicity of their king.
3. The doors of the prisons were opened, and the prisoners set at liberty. Flags floating at the tops of the houses decorated the places, and the ground was covered with fragrant powders and flowers, and moistened with spirituous liquors. So adorned, the town bore the lovely and bright appearance of a festival.
4. From the splendid dwellings of the wealthy abundant showers of different goods: clothes, gold, jewels &c. poured down, so that it seemed as if Felicity, doing her best to pervade the world, with lovely sport imitated Gaṅgâ in madness[235].
Now at that time it happened as a rule that every prince born to the king soon died. Supposing that rule to be the effect of goblin-power[236], he ordered, with the object of saving the life of that son, the building which was to serve for lying-in chamber to be wholly constructed of iron, (though) ornamented with magnificent figures wrought of jewels, gold, and silver. The preservative rites destructive of goblins were performed there according to the precepts expounded in the Science of Spirits and ordained by the Veda; and likewise the different customary auspicious ceremonies which have the effect of securing prosperity. As to his son, he had the gâtakarma[237] and the other sacraments performed to him in that iron-house, and let him grow up there. Owing to that most careful guard, but no less to the excellent goodness of his nature and to the power of his store of merit, no goblins overpowered the Great Being. In course of time, after the sacraments and initiatory rites had been performed, he was instructed by teachers illustrious for their knowledge of the sacred texts, their extraction, and behaviour, who were renowned and honoured as scholars, and attached to the virtues of tranquillity, modesty, and discretion. Having learnt from them many branches of science, and being favoured by the loveliness of youth, which made his figure grow fuller day by day[238], further displaying that attachment to modesty which was innate in him, he became an object of the greatest love both to his relations and the people at large.
5. People go after a virtuous person, though no relation nor acquaintance of theirs, with the like joy as if they honoured a friend. It is the brilliancy of his virtues which is the cause thereof.
6. In the season of autumn, when the moon freely shooting his beams all around is the laugh of Heaven, say what kind of relation does there exist for the people to Him?
So then the Great Being was enjoying the bliss that had fallen to his share as the effect of the power of his merit. He was petted with plenty of objects of celestial brilliancy standing at his disposal, and his father, who loved him much and bore him high esteem, was no more anxious about him, trusting he would be safe. Now once on the occasion of the Kaumudî-festival recurring in course of time, it happened that the Bodhisattva was desirous of contemplating the lovely beauty and the display of brilliancy in his capital. Having obtained the permission of his father, he mounted the royal chariot to take a drive. This chariot was embellished with fair ornaments of gold, jewels, and silver; gay flags and banners of various colours were floating aloft on it; its horses well-trained and swift, were adorned with golden trappings; it was driven by a charioteer distinguished for his dexterity, skill, comeliness, honesty, modesty, and firmness, and followed by a retinue adorned with a picturesque and brilliant attire and armour. Preceded by the delightful tones of musical instruments, the prince with his train passed through the capital in many directions, and let his eyes roam over the spectacle of the streets crowded with townsmen and landsmen in their lovely festival array, who with looks agitated by curiosity, were wholly intent on seeing him, and all along his way received him with praise and worship, folded hands and bent heads, and pronounced blessings over him. Nevertheless, though the contemplation of this beautiful spectacle was a proper occasion for conceiving a great rejoicing within his mind, he regained by it the remembrance of his former births. So familiar to his nature was the feeling of samvega.
7. 'Alas' (he thought), 'piteous is the state of the world and displeasing because of its unsteadiness. The brilliant splendour of this Kaumudî-day, how soon will it exist but in the memory!
8. 'And yet, such being the condition of all creatures, how heedless of danger men are, that they hurry after rejoicings with untroubled minds, though every way around them is obstructed by death!
9. 'Disease, old age and death, three enemies of irresistible strength, stand near ready to strike, and there is no escape from the dreadful world hereafter. How then may there be opportunity for merriment to an intelligent being?
10. 'The clouds, that poured out streams of water with tremendous noise, almost in anger, imitating, as it were, the uproar of great seas, the clouds with their golden garlands of flashing lightnings, being born of agglomeration come again to dissolution.
11. 'The rivers, that flowing with increased rapidity carried away trees together with the river-banks, upon which they had their roots, afterwards and in course of time assume again a mean appearance, as if they were burnt away by sorrow.
12. 'The violence of the wind, too, blowing down peaks of mountains, dispersing masses of clouds, rolling and stirring up the waves of the ocean, becomes extinguished.
13. 'With high and blazing flame sparkling about, the fire destroys the grass, then it abates and ceases. By turns the different beauties of the groves and forests appear and disappear, as time goes on.
14. 'What union does there exist which has not its end in separation? what felicity which is not liable to mishap[239]? Since inconstancy, then, is proper to the course of worldly things, that mirth of the multitude is a very thoughtless one.'
In this manner the High-minded One reasoned within himself. Utterly touched with emotion, his heart became averse to that rejoicing and festival mirth; he paid no longer attention to the groups of people, however picturesque, flocking to embellish the capital. In this disposition of mind he perceived that he had already returned to his palace. His emotion increased still by this, and considering that there is no other refuge but Righteousness, since it is unconcerned with sensual pleasures, he made up his mind to embrace the state of a virtuous life. At the first opportunity he visited the king, his father, and with folded hands asked leave to set out for the penance-forest.
15. 'By taking the vow of world-renunciation I wish to bring about the good of my Self, and I want your leave which I shall hold for a favour and a guidance to this (goal).'
16. On hearing this request of his well-beloved son, the king, as if he were an elephant wounded by an empoisoned arrow or a deep sea shaken by the wind, was seized with shivering, for his heart was sore through grief.
17. And desiring to withhold him, he embraced him affectionately, and in a faltering voice obstructed by his tears spoke: 'My son, why have you made up your mind to leave us so suddenly?
18. 'Who is that man who, being a cause of displeasure to you, causes his own ruin, rousing in this manner Death (against himself)? Say, whose relations have to wet their faces with tears of sorrow?
19. 'Or do you perhaps apprehend, or have you heard of, any improper act of mine? Then, tell it, that I may put an end to it. But I myself do not perceive anything of the kind.'
The Bodhisattva spoke:
20. 'What improper act may be found in you, being thus intent to show me your affection? And who would be capable of assailing me with grief?'
'But why then do you want to leave us?' replied the king with tears. Then the Great Being answered: 'Because of the peril of death. Do but consider, Your Majesty.
21. 'From the very night when a man obtains his residence in the maternal womb, he moves towards death, O hero among men, marching without interruption in that direction day after day.
22. 'May a man be ever so skilled in the management of his affairs, ever so strong, nobody escapes Death or Old Age, both of whom infest every place in this world. For this reason I will resort to the forest to lead a virtuous life.
23. 'Haughty princes vanquish by bold attack whole armies in splendid battle-array of footmen, horse, chariots, and elephants; but they are powerless to defeat that enemy named Death, though he is alone. Therefore I am resolved on taking my refuge in Righteousness.
24. 'Guarded by their forces made up of brisk horses and elephants and footmen and chariots, princes succeed in making their escape from their enemies; but all princes since Manu, together with their armies, succumbed helplessly to the superior power of that enemy whose name is Death.
25. 'Furious elephants crush in battle with their pestle-like tusks the gates of towns, the bodies of men, chariots, and other elephants. Yet the same tusks that were victorious even over town-walls will not push back Death, when that foe rushes on them.
26. 'Skilled archers pierce their enemies with their arrows in battle, though distant and sheltered by shield and armour strong and artfully wrought; but they never hit that enemy of old, named Death.
27. 'Lions may abate the martial lustre of elephants, plunging their cutting claws in their frontal globes, and with their roarings they may pierce the ears and frighten the hearts of their adversaries; but when they encounter Death, their insolence and strength are broken, and they fall asleep.
28. 'Kings inflict punishment on their enemies having sinned against them according to the measure of their guilt; but if that enemy whose name is Death has greatly sinned against them, they do not think of enforcing their law-sentences upon him.
29. 'Likewise kings may conquer a foe who has offended them by means of the (well-known) expedients: conciliation and the rest; but Death, that ferocious enemy, whose insolence is strengthened by the long duration of his hatred, is not to be subdued with such craft.
30. 'Serpents in wrath bite men, and the poison of their pointed teeth has the burning effect of a fire blazing awfully, kindled as it is by their anger; but against Death, though always clever in doing harm and therefore deserving of punishment, their effort of biting is deficient.
31. 'If a man has been bitten by serpents, however furious, medical men will appease the poison by means of charms and medicines; but Death is a serpent with imperishable teeth and irresistible poison, his power cannot be put down by charms, medicines and the like.
32. 'Garudas will stir up the abode of crowds of playing fishes, shaking with the flapping of their wings the water out of the seas with a thunderlike dreadful noise, then seize the serpents with their outstretched fangs; yet they are unable to destroy Death in that boisterous manner.
33. 'Tigers by their surpassing swiftness overtake the deer of the forest running away with fear, and easily crushing them upon the earth, as if playing, with the thunderbolt of their unequalled claws, drink their blood; but they have no skill to proceed in the same way with Death.
34. 'It may happen perchance that a deer having come within the reach of a tiger's mouth with its tremendous teeth, makes his escape even then. But who, having; reached the mouth of Death with the big teeth named disease or old age or grief, can become sound again?
35. 'Demons (grahas), deformed and ferocious-looking, drink up the vital strength and absorb the lives of the men they hold with a strong grasp[240]; but when time has come for them likewise to wage war with Death, they will lose their insolence and ferocity.
36. 'Such as are masters in magic arts may subdue those demons, if they come up to do harm to godly persons, by the use of penance-power, evil-averting spells, and medicinal herbs; but against that demon, whose name is Death, there is no remedy at all.
37. 'Such as are skilled in the art of bringing about magical illusions, perplex the eyes of a great assembly[241]. Yet Death, too, must have still some power, that his eye is not bewildered even by those.
38. 'Both those who by their penance-powerful charms checked the virulence of poison, and the excellent physicians who extinguished the diseases of men, even Dhanvantari and such as he, have disappeared. Therefore my mind is bent on practising righteousness in the forest.
39. 'The Vidyâdharas, owing to their might made up of manifold spells and powers, make themselves visible and again invisible, go through the air or descend to the earth. Nevertheless, when they meet Death, they too have lost their might.
40. 'The lords of the Celestials (the Devas) drive back the Asuras in spite of their haughtiness, and themselves in turn in spite of their haughtiness are driven back by the Asuras. Yet, even both armies combined, a host that would march with just pride against any adversary, are not able to vanquish Death.
41. 'Understanding this ferocity of the nature of Death, our enemy, and his irresistibleness, I am no longer pleased with the life at home. It is not from anger that I leave nor in consequence of diminished affection, but I have resolved upon a life of righteousness in the forest.'
The king said: 'But what hope do you set upon the forest-life, the danger of death being thus irremediable? what hope on taking the vow of a holy life?
42. 'Shall not Death, our enemy, attain you also in the forest? Did not the Rishis die who kept their vows of righteousness in the forest? In every place the course of life you wish to adopt is practicable, indeed. What profit, then, do you see in leaving your home and resorting to the forest?'
The Bodhisattva spoke:
43. 'No doubt, Death equally visits those at home and those in the forest, the righteous as well as the vicious. Yet the righteous have no reason for remorse, and righteousness is nowhere easier to be attained than in the forest, to be sure.
'Will Your Majesty deign to consider this?
44. 'The house is an abode of carelessness (about one's moral and religious duties), of infatuation, sensual love, concupiscence, hatred, of everything contrary to righteousness. What opportunity of applying one's self to it may be found at home?
45. 'A householder is distracted by many bad occupations; the care of earning and guarding his goods agitates his mind, which is also troubled by calamities arising or approaching. At what time may a householder take the way of tranquillity?
46. 'In the forest, on the other hand, after leaving that multitude of bad occupations and being freed from the troublesome care of worldly goods, a man is at his ease and may strive for tranquillity exclusively and with a satisfied mind. So he will come to happiness and righteousness and glory.
47. 'Not his wealth nor his power preserves a man, nothing but his righteousness. It is righteousness that procures him great happiness, not the possession of a large estate. And to a righteous man death cannot but procure gladness. For no fear of mishap exists for him who is devoted to a holy life.
48. 'And as good and evil are distinguished by their different characteristic marks and separated from each other by the discrepancy of the actions belonging to each, in the same way the result, too, of wickedness is mishap, but that of beautiful righteousness a happy state.'
In this manner the Great-minded One persuaded his father. He obtained his father's permission and renouncing his brilliant royal bliss, as if it were a straw, took up his abode in the penance-grove. Having acquired there dhyânas of immense extent and established mankind in them, he mounted to Brahma's world.
In this manner even the brilliancy of royalty does not obstruct the way of salvation to those, whose mind has been seized by emotion. Thus considering, one must make one's self familiar with the emotional state (samvega). [This is also to be told, when expounding the right conception of death: 'So the thought that one may die soon causes the sense of samvega.' Likewise, when expounding that death should always be present to our mind, and when teaching the temporariness of everything: 'So all phenomena[242] are perishable.' Also, when inculcating the tenet of taking no delight in the whole Universe: 'So nothing which has form (samskrita)[243] is reliable.' And also with this conclusion: 'So this world is helpless and succourless.' Also this may be propounded: 'In this manner it is easy to obtain righteousness in the forest, but not so for a householder.']
(Cp. the Pâli Gâtaka, No. 278, Fausb. II, 385-388; Kariyâpitaka II, 5.)
Forbearance deserves this name only if there exists some opportunity for showing it, not otherwise. Thus considering, the virtuous appreciate even their injurer, deeming him a profit. This will be shown by the following.
The Bodhisattva, it is said, one time lived in some forest-region as a wild buffalo-bull of grim appearance, owing to his being dirty with mud, and so dark of complexion that he resembled a moving piece of a dark-blue cloud. Nevertheless, though in that animal-state, in which there prevails complete ignorance and it is difficult to come to the conception of righteousness, he in consequence of his keen understanding, was exerting himself to practise righteousness.
1. Compassion, as if it had a deep-rooted affection for him in return for his long service, never left him. But some power too, either of his karma or his nature, must be taken into account to explain the fact that he was so.
2. And it is for this reason, in truth, that the Lord[244] declared the mystery of the result of karma to be inscrutable, since He, though compassion was at the bottom of his nature, obtained the state of a beast, yet even in this condition retained his knowledge of righteousness.
3. Without karma the series of existences cannot be; it is also an impossibility that good actions should have evil as their result. But it must be the influence of small portions of (evil) karma that caused him now and then, notwithstanding his knowledge of righteousness, to be in such (low) states[245].
Now some wicked monkey, knowing his natural goodness which had manifested itself in course of time, and understanding from his habitual mercy that anger and wrath had no power over him, was in the habit of vexing the Great Being very much by different injuries. 'From him I have nothing to fear,' so he thought.
4. A rascal is never more eager to insult and never displays greater insolence than towards people meek and merciful. Against those he performs his worst tricks, for he sees no danger from their side. But with respect to those from whence a suspicion of danger, however slight, strikes him, he will behave, oh! so modestly, like an honest man; his petulance is quieted there.
Sometimes, then, while the Great Being was calmly asleep or nodding from drowsiness, that monkey would of a sudden leap upon his back. Another time, having climbed on (his head), as if he were a tree, he swung repeatedly (between his horns). Sometimes again, when he was hungry, he would stand before his feet, obstructing his grazing. It happened also now and then that he rubbed his ears with a log. When he was longing to bathe, he would sometimes climb on his head and cover his eyes with his hands. Or having mounted on his back, he would ride him perforce, and holding a stick in his hand counterfeit Yama[246]. And the Bodhisattva, that Great Being, bore all that unbecoming behaviour of the monkey without irritation and anger, quite untroubled, for he considered it a benefit, as it were.
5. It is the very nature of the wicked, indeed, to walk aside from the way of decent behaviour, whereas forbearance is something like a benefit to the virtuous, owing to their habitual practice of going that way.
Now of a truth, some Yaksha who was scandalised at those insults of the Great Being, or perhaps wished to try his nature, one time when the wicked monkey was riding the buffalo-bull, placed himself in his way, saying: 'Be not so patient. Art thou the slave of that wicked monkey by purchase or by loss at play, or dost thou suspect any danger from his part, or dost thou not know thine own strength, that thou sufferest thyself to be so abused by him as to become his riding animal? Verily, my friend,
6. 'The thunderbolt of thy pointed horns swung with swiftness could pierce a diamond, or like the thunderbolt, cleave huge trees. And these thy feet treading with furious anger, would sink in the mountain-rock as in mud.
7. 'And this body of thine is, like a rock, solid and compact, the splendid strength of its muscles makes its beauty perfect. So thy power is well-known to the vigorous by nature, and thou wouldst be hard to approach even for a lion.
8. 'Therefore, either crush him with thy hoof by an energetic effort, or destroy his insolence with the sharp edges of thy horns. Why dost thou suffer this rogue of a monkey to torment thee and to cause pain to thee, as if thou wert powerless?
9. 'Where is it ever seen that an evildoer is brought to reason by a cure consisting in a virtuous behaviour towards him, modesty, and kindness? This treatment being applied to such a one who is to be cured by pungent and burning and harsh remedies, his insolence will wax like a disease arising from the phlegm[247].'
Then the Bodhisattva looking at the Yaksha spoke to him mild words expressive of his adherence to the virtue of forbearance.
10. 'Surely, I know him a fickle-minded one and always fond of iniquity, but for this very reason it is right, in truth, that I put up with him.
11. 'What forbearance is that, practised towards somebody of greater strength, against whom it is impossible to retaliate? And with respect to virtuous people standing firm in honesty and decent behaviour, what is there to be endured at all?
12. 'Therefore we ought to endure injuries by a feeble one, though having the power of revenge. Better to bear insults from such a one than to get rid of virtues.
13. 'Ill-treatment by a powerless one is the best opportunity, in truth, for showing virtues. With what purpose, then, should the lover of virtues make use of his strength in such cases so as to lose his firmness of mind?
14. 'Besides, the opportunity for forbearance, that virtue always of use, being difficult to obtain inasmuch as it depends on others, what reason could there be to resort to anger just then, when that opportunity has been afforded by another?
15. 'And if I did not use forbearance against him who disregarding the damage of his own righteousness (dharma), acts as if to cleanse my sins, say who else should be ungrateful, if not I?'
The Yaksha spoke: 'Then wilt thou never be delivered from his persecutions.
16. 'Who may be able to chastise the ill-behaviour of a rascal having no respect for virtues, unless he sets aside humble forbearance?'
The Bodhisattva spoke:
17. 'It is not suitable for him who longs for happiness to pursue comfort or prevention of discomfort by inflicting grief on another. The result of such actions will not tend to the production of happiness.
18. 'My persistence in patient endurance is, in fact, an admonition to awake his conscience. If he does not understand it, he will afterwards assail others of a hasty temper who will stop him in his pursuit of the wrong way.
19. 'And having been ill-treated by such a one, he will no more do these things to such as me. For having received punishment, he will not act in this (unbecoming) manner again. And so I will get rid of him.'
On these words the Yaksha, affected with faithful contentment, amazement, and respect, exclaimed: 'Well said! well said!' and moving his head and shaking his (extended) fingers, magnified the Great Being with kind words such as these:
20. 'How is it possible that beasts should possess a conduct like this? How didst thou come to this degree of regard for virtues? Having assumed with some purpose or other this animal-shape, thou must be somebody practising penance in the penance-forest!'
After thus eulogising him, he threw the wicked monkey off his back, and taught him a preservative charm; after which he disappeared on the spot.
In this manner, then, forbearance deserves this name only, if there exists some opportunity for showing it, not otherwise: thus considering the virtuous appreciate even their injurer, deeming him a profit. [So is to be said, when discoursing on forbearance. And this may also be said: 'In this manner is shown the imperturbable tranquillity of the Bodhisattvas, even when in the state of a beast; how, indeed, should it become a human being or one who has taken the vow of a homeless life to be deficient in it[248]?' This story is also to be told, when praising the Tathâgata and when discoursing on listening with attention to the preaching of the Law.]
(Cp. the Pâli Gâtaka, No. 308, Fausb. III, 25-27.)
Even though provoked, a virtuous person is incapable of betaking himself to wickedness, having never learnt to do so. This will be taught as follows.
The Bodhisattva, it is said, lived in some place of a forest as a woodpecker distinguished by his beautiful and lovely feathers of manifold colours. But though in that state, owing to his habitual compassion, he did not follow the way of living of his kind, a sinful one since it involves injuries to living beings.
1. With the young shoots of the trees, with the sweet and delicious flavours of their flowers, and with their fruits of different hue, scent, and relish he kept such diet as was dictated by his contentment.
2. He manifested his care for the interests of others by preaching to others the precepts of righteousness on proper opportunities, by helping the distressed according to his power, and by preventing the base-minded from immodest actions.
The whole multitude of animals in that part of the forest, being thus protected by the Great Being, thrived and were happy; for in him they possessed a teacher, as it were, a kinsman, a physician, a king.
3. In the same degree as they, being well protected by the greatness of his mercy, increased in virtues, in the very same degree his protection endowed them, though making up a collection of substances, with increase of their qualities[249].
Now one time, when the Great Being, according to his pity for the creatures, was rambling through parts of the forest, it happened that he saw in some part of the wood a lion who overcome by an exceedingly heavy pain was lying on the earth, as if he were hit with a poisonous arrow, having his mane disarranged and dirty with dust. And drawing near to him, moved by compassion, he asked him: 'What is the matter, king of the quadrupeds? Thou art seriously ill, indeed, I see.
4. 'Is this illness caused by exhaustion after indulging too much in boldness against elephants? or in excessive running after deer? or art thou hit with an arrow by a hunter? or has some disease seized thee?
5. 'Say then, what ails thee, if at least it may be told to me. Likewise tell me what may be done for thee in this case. And if perhaps I possess some power for the benefit of my friends, thou must enjoy the profit I may bring about by it and recover thy health[250].'
The lion spoke: 'Thou, virtuous and best of birds, this illness is not the effect of exhaustion nor is it caused by disease nor occasioned by a hunter's arrow. But it is the fragment of a bone that sticks here in my throat and, like the point of an arrow, causes grievous pain to me. I can neither swallow it down nor throw it up. Therefore, it is now the time of assistance by friends. Now, if you know the way to make me sound, well, do it.' Then the Bodhisattva, owing to the keenness of his intellect, thought out some means of extracting the object which was the cause of his pain. Taking a piece of wood large enough to bar his mouth, he spoke to the lion: 'Open thy mouth as wide as ever thou canst.' After he had done so, the Bodhisattva having placed the log tightly between the two rows of his teeth, entered the bottom of his throat. With the top of his beak he seized that fragment of bone sticking athwart in it by one edge, and having loosened it, took it by another edge, and at last drew it out. And while retiring, he dropped the log which barred the lion's mouth.
6. No wound-healer, however skilled in his art and clever, would have succeeded even with great effort in extracting that extraneous substance, yet he pulled it out, thanks to his keen intellect, though not exercised by professional training[251], but proper to him through hundreds of existences.
7. After taking away together with the bone the pain and anguish caused by it, he felt no less gladness at having relieved his suffering fellow-creature, than the lion at being released from the pain-causing object.
This, indeed, is the essential property of a virtuous person.
8. A virtuous person having effected the happiness of another or stopped his mischief even with difficulty, will enjoy a greater amount of excessive gladness, than he would on account even of prosperity happening to himself and easily obtained.
So the Great Being having relieved his pain, was rejoiced in his heart. He took leave of the lion, and having received his thanks went his way.
Now some time after, it happened that the woodpecker flying about with his outspread wings of exquisite beauty, could nowhere get any suitable food, so that he was caught by hunger which burnt his limbs. Then he saw that same lion feasting on the flesh of a young antelope fresh killed. His mouth and claws and the lower end of his mane being tinged with the blood of that animal, he resembled a fragment of a cloud in autumn, immersed in the glow of twilight.
9. Yet, though he was his benefactor, he did not venture to address him with words of request, disagreeable to the ear; for however skilled in speech, shame imposed upon him a temporary obligation of silence.
10. Nevertheless, as his wants required satisfaction, he walked up and down before his eyes in a bashful attitude. But that scoundrel, though well aware of him, did not at all invite him to join in the repast.
11. Like seed sown on a rock, like an oblation poured out on ashes that have lost their heat, of that very nature is, at the time of fruit, a benefit bestowed on an ungrateful person, and the flower of the vidula-reed.
Then the Bodhisattva thought: 'Surely, he does not know me again,' and approaching him with a little more confidence, asked him for a share, supporting his demand with a proper benediction after the manner of mendicants.
12. 'Much good may it do thee, lord of the quadrupeds, who procurest thy livelihood by thy prowess! I beg thee to honour a mendicant, which is an instrument for thee to gather good repute and merit.'
But the lion disregarding this kind blessing, unacquainted as he was with the behaviour of the pious (ârya), owing to his habitual cruelty and selfishness, fixed a sidelong look on the Bodhisattva, as if he were willing to burn him down with the flame of the anger blazing out of his fiery eyes, and said: 'No more of this.
13. 'Is it not enough that thou art alive, after entering the mouth of a creature like me, a devourer of fresh killed deer who does not know of unmanly mercy?
14. 'Is it to insult me that thou darest molest me thus another time with a demand. Art thou weary of thy life? Thou wishest to see the world hereafter, I suppose.'
This refusal and the harsh words expressing it, filled the Bodhisattva with shame. He flew directly upward to the sky, telling him in the language of his extended wings he was a bird, and went his way.
Now some forest-deity who was indignant at this injury, or who wanted to know the extent of his virtuous constancy, mounted also to the sky, and said to the Great Being: 'Excellent one among birds, for what reason dost thou suffer this injury inflicted by that scoundrel on thee, his benefactor, though thou dost possess the power of revenge? What is the profit of overlooking that ungrateful one in this manner?
15. 'He may be ever so strong, thou art still able to blind him by a sudden assault on his face. Thou mayst also rob the flesh of his repast from between his very teeth. Why then dost thou suffer his insolence?'
At that moment the Bodhisattva, though having been ill-treated and insulted, and notwithstanding the provocation of the forest-deity, manifested the extreme goodness of his nature, saying: 'Enough, enough of this manner of proceeding. This way is not followed by such as me.
16. 'It is out of mercy, not with the desire of gain, that the virtuous take care of a person in distress, nor do they mind whether the other understands this or not. What opportunity for anger is there in such a case?
17. 'Ingratitude cannot but tend to the deception of the ungrateful one himself. Who, indeed, wishing a service in return, will do good to him a second time?
18. 'As to the benefactor, he obtains merit and the result of it in the world hereafter in consequence of his self-restraint, and an illustrious renown still in this world.
19. 'Moreover, if the benefit has been performed in order to practise a righteous action, why should it be regretted afterwards? If done with the purpose of receiving something in return, it is a loan, not a benefit.
20. 'He who because of the ingratitude of his neighbour prepares to do him harm, such a one, in truth, after first earning a spotless reputation by his virtues, will subsequently act after the manner of elephants.
21. 'If my neighbour by the infirmity of his mind does not know how to return the benefit, he will also never obtain the lovely lustre inherent in virtues; but, say, what reason should there exist for a sentient being to destroy, on account of that, his own lofty renown?
'But this seems to me most becoming in this case.
22. 'He in whose heart a service done by a virtuous person did not rouse a friendly disposition, such a one is to be left, but gently, without harshness and anger.'
Then the deity, rejoiced at his well-said sentences, praised him, exclaiming repeatedly: 'Well said! well said!' and adding many kind words.
23. 'Though exempt from the toil caused by matted hair and a bark garment, thou art a Rishi, thou art a holy ascetic knowing the future! It is not the dress, truly, that makes the Muni, but he who is adorned by virtues is the real Muni here.'
After thus distinguishing him and honouring him, he disappeared on the spot.
In this manner, then, a virtuous person is incapable of betaking himself to wickedness, even though provoked, having never learnt to do so. [So is to be said when eulogising the virtuous. And when discoursing on forbearance, this is to be propounded: 'In this manner a man practising forbearance will rarely meet with enmity, rarely with reproach, and will be beloved and welcome to many people.' When praising adherence to tranquillity, this is to be said: 'In this manner the wise being great in preserving their tranquillity preserve their own lustre of virtues.' Likewise, when glorifying the Tathâgata and praising the cultivation of an excellent nature: 'In this manner a good nature being always striven after does not pass away, even when in the state of a beast.']