Madrî answered: 'Where shall I lay the deposit, my prince?' Visvantara spoke:
29, 30. 'You must always give in charity to people of good conduct, embellishing your bounty by kind observance. Goods deposited in this manner are imperishable and follow us after death. Be a loving daughter to your parents-in-law, a careful mother to our children. Continue in pious conduct, beware of inadvertence; but do not mourn for my absence, will you?'
Upon this, Madrî, avoiding what might impair the firmness of mind of her husband, suppressed the deep sorrow that put her heart to anguish, and said with feigned calmness:
31, 32. 'It is not right, Your Majesty, that you should go to the forest alone. I too will go with you where you must go, my lord. When attending on you, even death will be a festival to me; but living without you I deem worse than death.
'Nor do I think the forest-life to be unpleasant at all. Do but consider it well.
33. 'Removed from wicked people, haunted by deer, resounding with the warbling of manifold birds, the penance-groves with their rivulets and trees, both intact, with their grass-plots which have the loveliness of inlaid lapis lazuli floors, are by far more pleasing than our artificial gardens.
'Indeed, my prince,
34. 'When beholding these children neatly dressed and adorned with garlands, playing in the wild shrubs, you will not think of your royalty.
35. 'The water-carrying brooks, overhung by natural bowers of perpetually renewed beauty, varying according to the succession of the seasons, will delight you in the forest.
36, 37. 'The melodious music of the songs of birds longing for the pleasure of love, the dances of the peacocks whom Lasciviousness has taught that art, the sweet and praised buzzing of the honey-seeking bees: they make together a forest-concert that will rejoice your mind.
38. 39. 'Further, the rocks overspread at night with the silk garment of moonlight; the soft-stroking forest wind impregnated with the scent of flowering trees; the murmuring noise of the rivulets, pushing their waters over moving gravel so as to imitate the sound of a number of rattling female ornaments—all this will gladden your mind in the forest.'
This entreaty of his well-beloved wife filled him with a great desire to set out for the forest. Therefore he prepared to bestow great largesses on the mendicant people.
But in the king's palace the news of the banishment pronounced upon Visvantara caused great alarm and violent lamentations. Likewise the mendicants, agitated by sorrow and grief, became almost beside themselves, or behaved as if they were intoxicated or mad, and uttered many and various lamentations of this kind:
40. 'How is it that Earth does not feel ashamed, permitting the hatchets to hew down that shady tree, her foster-child, the giver of such sweet fruits? It is now plain she has been deprived of consciousness.'
41. 'If no one will prevent those who are about to destroy that well of cold, pure, and sweet water, then in truth the guardians of the world-quarters are falsely named so, or they are absent, or they are nothing but a mere sound.'
42. 'Oh! Indeed Injustice is awake and Righteousness either asleep or dead, since prince Visvantara is banished from his reign.'
43. 'Who possesses such a refined skill in occasioning distress, as to have the cruelty to aim at starving us, the guiltless, who obtain a scanty livelihood by begging?'
The Bodhisattva then gave away his wealth. He bestowed on the mendicants the contents of his treasury, filled to the very top with precious stones, gold, and silver, of the value of many hundred thousands; his magazines and granaries, containing stores of manifold goods and grains; all his other property, consisting of slaves of both sexes, beasts of draught, carriages, garments and the like. The whole of this he distributed according to the merit of the recipients. This being done, he paid his respectful homage to his father and mother, taking leave of them, who were overwhelmed with sadness and grief. Then he mounted his royal chariot with his wife and children. He left the capital, while a great body of people uttered lamentations, the streets being as noisy as on a holiday; nor did he succeed without difficulty in making the crowd turn back, who followed him out of affection, shedding tears of sorrow. Then himself taking the reins, he drove in the direction of Mount Vaṅka. And without the least agitation of mind he passed along the environs of the capital, crowned with charming gardens and groves, and approached the forest, betokened by the gradually increasing rareness of shady trees and of human beings, the sight of flocks of antelopes running at a far distance, and the chirping of crickets. Now by chance some Brâhmans came to meet him, who begged from him the horses that were drawing his chariot.
44. And he, though on a journey of many yoganas without attendants, and burdened with his wife, gave away to these Brâhmans his four horses, being rejoiced at this opportunity of giving, and not caring for the future.
Now, when the Bodhisattva was about to put himself under the yoke, and was fastening the girth tightly round his waist, there appeared four young Yakshas, under the form of red deer. Like well-trained excellent horses they put their shoulders under the yoke themselves. On seeing them, the Bodhisattva said to Madrî, who stared at them with joy and surprise:
45. 'Behold the extraordinary might of the penance-groves honoured by the residence of ascetics. Their kindness towards guests has in this degree taken root in the breast of the foremost of deer.'
Madrî replied:
46. 'This is rather your superhuman power, I suppose. The practice of virtue by the pious, however deeply rooted, is not the same with respect to everybody.
47. 'When the beautiful reflection of the stars in the water is surpassed by the laughing lustre of the night-waterlilies, the cause thereof is to be found in the beams which the Moon-god sends down as if out of curiosity[87].'
While they were going on, so speaking to each other kind words of affection, see, another Brâhman came near, and asked the Bodhisattva for his royal chariot.
48. And the Bodhisattva, as he was indifferent to his own comfort, but to the beggars a loving kinsman, fulfilled the wish of that Brâhman.
He gladly caused his family to alight from the chariot, presented the Brâhman with it, and taking Gâlin, his boy, in his arms, he continued his way on foot. Madrî, she too free from sadness, took the girl, Krishnâginâ, in her arms and marched after him.
49. The trees, stretching out to him their branches adorned at their ends with charming fruits, invited him, as it were, to enjoy their hospitality, and paying homage to his merit-obtained dignity, bowed to him like obedient disciples, when they got sight of him.
50. And, where he longed for water, in those very places lotus-ponds appeared to his eyes, covered on their surface with the white and reddish-brown pollen fallen down from the anthers of the lotuses shaken by the wing-movements of the swans.
51. The clouds overspread him with a beautiful canopy; there blew an agreeable and odoriferous wind; and his path was shortened by Yakshas not enduring his labour and fatigue.
In this manner the Bodhisattva with his wife and children experienced the pleasure and the delight of a walk, without feeling the sensation of weariness, just as if he were in some park, and at last he perceived Mount Vaṅka. Being showed the way by some foresters, he went up to the penance-forest which was on that mountain. This forest was beset with manifold charming and smooth-barked, excellent trees, with their ornaments of twigs, flowers, and fruits; birds exulting with lust made it resound with their various notes; groups of dancing peacocks enhanced its beauty; many kinds of deer lived in it. It was encircled as with a girdle by a river of pure, blue water, and the wind was agreeable there, carrying red flower-dust. In this grove stood a desert hut of leaves, lovely to behold, and pleasing in every season. Visvakarman himself had built it by the orders of Sakra. There the Bodhisattva took up his residence.
52. Attended by his beloved wife, enjoying the artless and sweet talk of his children, not thinking of the cares of royalty, like one who is staying in his gardens, he practised in that grove strong penance for half a year.
One day, when the princess had gone to seek roots and fruits, and the prince watching the children kept himself within the borders of the hermitage, there arrived a Brâhman, whose feet and ankles were stiff with the dust of the journey, and whose eyes and cheeks were sunken by toil; he was bearing over his shoulder a wooden club, from which his waterpot hung down. His wife had despatched him with the pressing errand, to go and search after some attendance. When the Bodhisattva saw a mendicant coming up to him after a long time, his heart rejoiced, and his countenance began to beam. He went to meet him, and welcomed him with kind words. After the usual complimentary conversation he told him to enter the hermitage, where he entertained him with the honour due to a guest. Then he asked him the object of his coming. And the Brâhman, who through fondness for his wife had banished virtue and shame and was but eager to receive his boon, said in truth something like this:
53. 'Where a light is and an even road, there it is easy for men to go. But in this world the darkness of selfishness prevails to such a degree that no other men would support my words of request.
54. 'Thy brilliant renown of heroic almsgiving has penetrated everywhere. For this reason I have undertaken this labour of begging from thee. Give me both thy children to be my attendants.'
Being so addressed, the Bodhisattva, that Great Being,
55. As he was in the habit of cheerfully giving to mendicants and had never learnt to say no, bravely said that he would give even both his darlings.
'Bless thee! But what art thou still waiting for?' Thus speaking the Brâhman urged the Great Being. Now the children, having heard their father saying he would give them away, became afflicted, and their eyes filled with tears. His affection for them agitated him, and made his heart sink. So the Bodhisattva spoke:
56, 57. 'They are thine, being given by me to thee. But their mother is not at home. She went out to the forest in search of roots and fruits; she will come back at evening-time. Let their mother see them, neatly dressed as they are now and bearing wreaths, and kiss[88] them (farewell). Rest this night here; to-morrow thou shalt carry them away.'
The Brâhman said: 'Thy Reverence ought not to urge me.
58. 'A metaphorical name of womankind is "beautiful charmers[89]," thou knowest. She might prove a hindrance to the fulfilment of thy promise. Therefore I do not like staying here.'
The Bodhisattva said: 'Do not think of that. My wife will not obstruct the fulfilment of my promise. She is in fact the companion of my pious practice[90]. But do as pleases Thy Reverence. Yet, great Brâhman, thou shouldst consider this:
59-61. 'How should these children satisfy thy wants by slavework? They are very young and weak and have never been accustomed to such kind of occupation. But the king of Sibi, their grandfather, seeing them fallen into this state of bondage, will doubtlessly give thee as much money as thou desirest to redeem them. Well, for this reason I pray thee, take them to his realm. When acting thus, thou wilt get the possession of great wealth and at the same time of righteousness.'
'No' (said the Brâhman), 'I do not venture to come to this king with an offer which would excite his anger; he would be unapproachable like a snake.
62. 'He would have the children torn from me by force, perhaps he would also inflict punishment on me. I shall bring them rather to my Brâhmanî that they may attend on her.'
Upon this the Bodhisattva said nothing but: 'Then as thou likest,' without finishing the sentence. He instructed the little ones with persuasive words how they had to act in accordance with their new condition of servants; after which he took the waterpot, bending it over the outstretched hand of the Brâhman, greedy to accept the ratification of the gift.
63. Yielding to his effort, the water poured down from the pot, and at the same time tears fell without effort from his eyes resembling dark red lotus-petals.
Overjoyed with his success, agitated by his excitement, and hastening to carry off the children of the Bodhisattva, the Brâhman uttered a short phrase of benediction, and telling the children with a harsh voice of command to go out, he prepared to make them leave the hermitage. They, however, could not bear the too intense grief of separation, their hearts shrunk together and they embraced the feet of their father. Bathed in tears, they exclaimed:
64. 'Mother is out of doors, while you are about to give us away. Do not give us away before we have bidden adieu to mother too.'
Now the Brâhman reflected: 'The mother will return erelong, or it is likely that his paternal love will make him repent.' Thus considering, he tied their hands like a bundle of lotuses with a creeper, and as they were reluctant and looked back at their father, he began to drag those young and delicate children along with him, threatening them. At this moment Krishnâginâ the girl, having never before experienced a sudden calamity, cried out with tears to her father:
65. 66. 'This cruel Brâhman, father, hurts me with a creeper. No, it is no Brâhman, to be sure. Brahmans are righteous, they say. It is an ogre under the guise of a Brâhman. Certainly he carries us off to eat us. Why do you suffer us, father, to be led away by this ogre?'
And Gâlin the boy lamented on account of his mother, saying:
67. 'I do not suffer so much by the violence of this Brâhman, as by the absence of mother. It is as if my heart is pierced by grief that I did not see her.
68. 'Oh! certainly, mother will weep for us for a long time in the empty hermitage, like the bird kâtaka[91] whose little ones have been killed.
69. 'How will mother behave, when coming back with the many roots and fruits she has gathered in the forest for us, she will find the hermitage empty?
70. 'Here, father, are our toy horses, elephants, and chariots. Half of them you must give to mother, that she may assuage her grief therewith.
71. 'You must also present to her our respectful salutations and withhold her at any rate from afflicting herself; for it will be difficult for us, father, to see you and her again.
72. 'Come, Krishnâ, let us die. Of what use is life to us? We have been delivered by the prince to a Brâhman who is in want of money.'
After so speaking they parted. But the Bodhisattva, though his mind was shaken by these most piteous laments of his children, did not move from the place where he was sitting. While representing to himself that it is not right to repent having given, his heart was burnt by the fire of irremediable grief, and his mind became troubled, as though it were paralysed by torpor occasioned by poison. The fanning of the cool wind made him soon recover his senses, and seeing the hermitage noiseless and silent, as it were, being devoid of his children, he said to himself in a voice choked with tears:
73. 'How is it possible that this man did not scruple to strike my very heart before my very eyes in my children?[92] O, fie on that shameless Brâhman!
74. 'How may they be capable of making the journey, going bare-footed, unable to bear fatigue by reason of their tender age, and become servants to that man?
75. 'Who will afford rest to them, when they are way-worn and exhausted? Whom may they go and ask, if vexed by the suffering of hunger and thirst?
76. 'If this sorrow strikes even me, the earnest striver after firmness of mind, what then will be the condition of those little ones, brought up in ease?
77. 'Oh! the separation from my children is to my mind like a burning fire.... Nevertheless, who, holding on to the righteous conduct of the virtuous, would give way to repentance?'
In the meanwhile Madrî was disquieted by ill omens and prognostics, the foretokens of some accident. Desiring therefore to get back with her roots and fruits as soon as possible, she was obstructed on the way by ferocious animals, and was obliged to return to the hermitage by a long circuitous way. And when she did not see her children neither on the way, where they were used to come to meet her, nor in the playground, her uneasiness greatly increased.
78. Apprehending evil because of these dreadful sensations of danger, she was agitated and anxious, and looked round about if she might get sight of the children; then she called them. Receiving no answer, she began to lament, being sore with grief.
79. 'Formerly the hermitage, resounding with the shouts of my children, appeared to me a much-frequented region; now not perceiving them, I feel myself helpless in the very same place as in a wilderness.
80. 'But perhaps they have fallen asleep and are slumbering, tired with playing. Or should they have gone astray in the thicket? Or should they have hidden themselves out of childishness, being displeased that I was so long in coming home?
81. 'But why do not yonder birds warble? Are they perhaps bewildered, having witnessed mischief done to the children? Can it be that my darlings have been carried away by that very rapid stream, which is eagerly pushing forth its dashing waves?
'Oh! that my suspicions may prove to be groundless and false even now, and the prince and the children be well! Oh! may the evil-boding prognostics find their fulfilment on my body! But why then is my heart big with sadness because of them? Why is it enwrapt in the night of sorrow and as if it would sink away? Why is it that my limbs seem to slacken, that I am no more able to discern the objects around me, that this grove, deprived of its lustre, seems to turn round?'
Having entered the hermitage-ground and put aside her roots and fruits, she went to her husband. After performing the usual salutation, she asked him for the children. Now the Bodhisattva, knowing the tenderness of a mother's love and also considering that bad news is hard to be told, was not able to make any answer.
82. It is a very difficult matter for a pitiful man, indeed, to torment with evil tidings the mind of one who has come to him and deserves to hear pleasant words.
Then Madrî thought: 'Surely, some ill has befallen the children; his silence must be the effect of his being overwhelmed by grief and sadness,' and almost stricken with stupor she stared about the hermitage, but saw no children. And again she said in a voice rather indistinct by smothered tears:
83. 'I do not see the children, and you do not speak anything to me! Alas! I am wretched, I am forlorn. This silence speaks of some great evil.'
No sooner had she said these words, than overpowered by the sorrow that tortured her heart, she sank down like a creeper violently cut off. The Bodhisattva prevented her from falling to the ground, clasping his arms round her, and brought her to a grass couch, on which lying and being sprinkled with cold water she recovered her senses. Then he endeavoured to comfort her, saying:
84. 'I have not told the sad news straightway to you, Madrî, for firmness is not to be expected of a mind rendered weak by affection.
85. 'See, a Brâhman suffering from old age and poverty has come to me. To him I have given both children. Be appeased and do not mourn.
86. 'Look at me, Madrî, do not look for the children, nor indulge in lamentations. Do not strike anew my heart, still pierced by the dart of sorrow on account of the children.
87. 'When asked for my life, should I be able to withhold it? Take this in account, my love, and approve the gift I have made of the children.'
Madrî, whom the suspicion of the death of her children had put to anguish, now hearing by these words that they were alive, began to recover from her fright and affliction. She wiped away her tears with the object of comforting and strengthening her husband; then looking up, she beheld (something) that made her speak with amazement to her husband: 'A wonder! A wonder! To say it in a few words,
88. 'Surely, even the Celestials are wrapt in admiration at your heart being up to this point inaccessible to selfish feelings.
89. 'This is evident from the sounds of the divine drums, echoing in all directions. It is in order to celebrate your glory, that Heaven has composed the hymn which it thus pronounces in distinct language from afar.
90. 'Earth shakes, trembling, I suppose, from exultation, as is indicated by the heaving of her breasts, the huge mountains. Golden flowers, falling down from heaven, make the sky appear as if it were illuminated by lightnings.
91. 'Leave, then, grief and sadness. That you have given away in charity must rather tend to brighten up your mind. Become again the well that affords benefit to the creatures, and a giver as before!'
Now the surface of Earth being shaken, Sumeru, the lord of mountains, radiant with the lustre of its manifold gems, began to waver. Sakra, the Lord of the Devas, inquiring into the cause of the earthquake, was informed of it by the regents of the world-quarters, who, with eyes expanding with amazement, told him that it had been caused by Visvantara giving away his children. Excited with joy and surprise, next day at day-break he went into the presence of Visvantara, feigning to be a Brâhman come to him as a mendicant. The Bodhisattva showed him the hospitality due to a guest, after which he asked him to bring forth his request. Then Sakra begged him for his wife.
92. 'The practice of almsgiving in virtuous persons,' he said, 'comes as little to its end as the water in great lakes dries up. For this reason I ask thee for that woman there who is looking like a deity. Her, thy wife, give to me, I pray thee.'
The Bodhisattva did not lose his firmness of mind, however, and made the promise of giving her.
93. Then taking Madrî with his left hand and the waterpot with his right, he poured down water on the hand of the Brâhman, but fire of grief on the mind of the Love-god[93].
94. No anger arose in Madrî's breast, nor did she weep, for she knew her husband's nature. Only keeping her eyes fixed on him, she stood like an image, stupefied by the excessive heaviness of that fresh burden of suffering.
On beholding this, Sakra, the Lord of the Devas, affected with the utmost admiration, magnified the Great Being.
95. 'Oh! the wide distance which is between the conduct of the righteous and that of the impious! How will those who have not purified their hearts be even capable of believing this great performance?
96. 'To cherish an affectionate wife and much-beloved children, and yet to give them up, obeying the self-imposed vow of detachment—is it possible to conceive any loftiness like this?
97. 'When thy glory will be spread throughout the world by the tales of those who are enthusiastic about thy virtues, the brilliant reputations of others will disappear in thine, beyond doubt, just as the other luminaries dissolve in the splendour of the sunlight.
98. 'Even now this superhuman fact of thine is praisingly approved by the Yakshas, the Gandharvas, the snakes, and by the Devas, Vâsava[94] included.'
After so speaking, Sakra reassumed his own brilliant figure and made himself known to the Bodhisattva. Which being done, he said:
99.
100. 'Nor shouldst thou be anxious about the separation from thy son and daughter, nor grieve for the loss of thy royal dignity. Before long thy father will come to thee, accompanied by both thy children, and provide his kingdom with a protector, re-establishing thee in thy high rank.'
Having said these words, Sakra disappeared on the spot.
And that Brâhman, in consequence of Sakra's power, brought the children of the Bodhisattva to the very land of Sibi. And when the Sibis and Samgaya, their king, heard of the Bodhisattva's performance of the greatest compassion, hard to be done by others, their hearts became soft with tenderness. They redeemed the children from the hand of the Brâhman, and having obtained the pardon of Visvantara, led him back and reinstated him in his royal dignity.
[In this way, then, the behaviour of a Bodhisattva is exceedingly marvellous. For this reason such distinguished beings as strive for that state, must not be despised or hindered. This story is also to be adduced, when discoursing on the Tathâgata and when treating of listening with attention to the preaching of the Law.]
Visvantara's birth being the last but one of the Lord, the person of that charitable king is held very high among Buddhists. His largesses are also considered to constitute the highest degree of practising the pâramitâ of charity. In the memorable night which preceded his attainment of the Buddhahood, the Sâkya prince had but to refer to his actions in the Visvantara-existence to demonstrate his having fulfilled that pâramitâ. In the Pâli Gâtaka that existence forms the subject-matter of the longest and last tale of the collection, but since it is the last, it is still unpublished; its contents, however, have been communicated by Spence Hardy in his 'Manual of Budhism' (pp. 118-127 of the second edition). From hence Prof. Kern borrowed his exposition of the tale in his Geschiedenis van het Buddhisme, I, pp. 303-317, to which he added copious notes with the object of exploring and expounding the mythological substratum which underlies it. It is curious to compare the redaction of the Pâli Gâtaka with that of Sûra. The latter omitted purposely, it seems, some particulars, for instance, the name of the old Brâhman, that of the mother of Visvantara, and the etymology of his name; his narration is different in some slight details. But the main features are the same, likewise in the redaction of the Kariyâpitaka, where Visvantara's story is No. 9 of the dânaparamitâ and is told in 58 slokas. From this version it appears that the earthquake, caused by the great liberality of the prince, is something most essential; or rather the earthquakes, for this miracle occurred seven times, once, when he took the determination [not mentioned by Sûra] of giving his heart, eyes, flesh or blood, if requested; secondly, after the gift of the white elephant; thirdly, when he had made his great largesses preceding his withdrawal to Mount Vaṅka; fourthly and fifthly, after giving his children and his wife; the sixth time was when he met again with his father and mother in the forest; the seventh at his entrance in his capital. The sevenfold earthquake is also discussed in the Milinda Pañha, 119 foll. Cp. also the parallel performance told of the Bodhisattva, who afterwards was Maṅgala Buddha (Fausb. Gât. I, p. 31, translated by Rhys Davids, Birth-Stories, I, p. 33).
In Kshemendra's Avadânakalpalatâ the story of Visvantara is No. 23, not yet published.
Those whose hearts are pure do not act up to the enticement of the wicked. Knowing this, pure-heartedness is to be striven after. This will be taught by the following.
Long ago the Bodhisattva, it is said, was a king who had obtained his kingdom in the order of hereditary succession. He had reached this state as the effect of his merit, and ruled his realm in peace, not disturbed by any rival, his sovereignty being universally acknowledged. His country was free from any kind of annoyance, vexation or disaster, both his home relations and those with foreign countries being quiet in every respect; and all his vassals obeyed his commands.
1. This monarch having subdued the passions, his enemies, felt no inclination for such profits as are to be blamed when enjoyed, but was with his whole heart intent on promoting the happiness of his subjects. Holding virtuous practice (dharma) the only purpose of his actions, he behaved like a Muni.
2. For he knew the nature of mankind, that people set a high value on imitating the behaviour of the highest. For this reason, being desirous of bringing about salvation for his subjects, he was particularly attached to the due performance of his religious duties.
3. He practised almsgiving, kept strictly the precepts of moral conduct (sîla), cultivated forbearance, strove for the benefit of the creatures. His mild countenance being in accordance with his thoughts devoted to the happiness of his subjects, he appeared like the embodied Dharma.
Now it once happened that, though protected by his arm, his realm, both in consequence of the faulty actions of its inhabitants and inadvertence on the part of the angels charged with the care of rain, was afflicted in several districts by drought and the troublesome effects of such a disaster. Upon this the king, fully convinced that this plague had been brought about by the violation of righteousness by himself or his subjects, and taking much to heart the distress of his people, whose welfare was the constant object of his thoughts and cares, took the advice of men of acknowledged competence, who were reputed for their knowledge in matters of religion. So keeping counsel with the elders among the Brâhmans, headed by his family priest (purohita) and his ministers, he asked them for some means of putting an end to that calamity. Now they, believing a solemn sacrifice as is enjoined by the Veda to be a cause of abundant rain, explained to him that he must perform such a sacrifice of a frightful character, inasmuch as it requires the massacre of many hundreds of living beings. But after being informed of everything concerning such a slaughter as is prescribed for the sacrifice, his innate compassionateness forbade him to approve of their advice in his heart; yet out of civility, unwilling to offend them by harsh words of refusal, he slipped over this point, turning the conversation upon other topics. They, on the other hand, no sooner caught the opportunity of conversing with the king on matters of religion, than they once more admonished him to accomplish the sacrifice, for they did not understand his deeply hidden mind.
4. 'You constantly take care not to neglect the proper time of performing your different royal duties, established for the sake of obtaining the possession of land and ruling it. The due order of these actions of yours is in agreement with the precepts of Righteousness (dharma).
5. 'How then is this that you who (in all other respects) are so clever in the observance of the triad (of dharma, artha, and kâma), bearing your bow to defend the good of your people, are so careless and almost sluggish as to that bridge to the world of the Devas, the name of which is 'sacrifice'?
6. 'Like servants, the kings (your vassals) revere your commands, thinking them to be the surest gage of success. Now the time is come, O destroyer of your foes, to gather by means of sacrifice superior blessings, which are to procure for you a shining glory.
7, 8. 'Certainly, that holiness which is the requisite for a dîkshita[95] is already yours, by reason of your habitual practice of charity and your strictness in observing the restraint (of good conduct). Nevertheless, it would be fit for you to discharge your debt to the Devas[96] by such sacrifices as are the subject-matter of the Veda. The deities being satisfied by duly and faultlessly performed sacrifice, honour the creatures in return by (sending) rain. Thus considering, take to mind the welfare of your subjects and your own, and consent to the performance of a regular sacrifice, which will enhance your glory.'
Thereupon he entered upon this thought: 'Very badly guarded is my poor person indeed, being given in trust to such leaders. While faithfully believing and loving the Law, I should uproot my virtue of tender-heartedness by reliance upon the words of others. For, truly,
9. 'Those who are reputed among men to be the best refuge, are the very persons who intend to do harm, borrowing their arguments from the Law. Alas! such a man who follows the wrong path shown by them, will soon find himself driven to straits, for he will be surrounded by evils.
10. 'What connection may there be, forsooth, between righteousness and injuring animals? How may residence in the world of the Devas or propitiation of the deities have anything to do with the murder of victims?
11, 12. 'The animal slaughtered according to the rites with the prescribed prayers, as if those sacred formulae were so many darts to wound it, goes to heaven, they say, and with this object it is killed. In this way that action is interpreted to be done according to the Law. Yet it is a lie. For how is it possible that in the next world one should reap the fruits of what has been done by others? And by what reason will the sacrificial animal mount to heaven? though he has not abstained from wicked actions, though he has not devoted himself to the practice of good ones, simply because he has been killed in sacrifice, and not on the ground of his own actions?
13. 'And should the victim killed in sacrifice really go to heaven, should we not expect the Brâhmans to offer themselves to be immolated in sacrifice? A similar practice, however, is nowhere seen among them. Who, then, may take to heart the advice proffered by these counsellors?
14. 'As to the Celestials, should we believe that they who are wont to enjoy the fair ambrosia of incomparable scent, flavour, magnificence, and effective power, served to them by the beautiful Apsarasas, would abandon it to delight in the slaughter of a pitiable victim, that they might feast on the omentum and such other parts of his body as are offered to them in sacrifice?
'Therefore, it is the proper time to act so and so.' Having thus made up his mind, the king feigned to be eager to undertake the sacrifice; and in approval of their words he spoke to them in this manner: 'Verily, well protected am I, well gratified, having such counsellors as Your Lordships are, thus bent on securing my happiness! Therefore I will have a human sacrifice (purushamedha) of a thousand victims performed. Let my officials, each in his sphere of business, be ordered to bring together the requisites necessary for that purpose. Let also an inquiry be made of the most fitting ground whereon to raise the tents and other buildings for the sattra[97]. Further, the proper time for the sacrifice must be fixed (by the astrologers) examining the auspicious lunar days, karanas, muhûrtas, and constellations.' The purohita answered: 'In order to succeed in your enterprise, Your Majesty ought to take the avabhritha (final bath) at the end of one sacrifice; after which you may successively undertake the others. For if the thousand human victims were to be seized at once, your subjects, to be sure, would blame you and be stirred up to great agitation on their account.' These words of the purohita having been approved by the (other) Brâhmans, the king replied: 'Do not apprehend the wrath of the people, Reverends. I shall take such measures as to prevent any agitation among my subjects.'
After this the king convoked an assembly of the townsmen and the landsmen, and said: 'I intend to perform a human sacrifice of a thousand victims. But nobody behaving honestly is fit to be designated for immolation on my part. With this in mind, I give you this advice: Whomsoever of you I shall henceforward perceive transgressing the boundaries of moral conduct, despising my royal will, him will I order to be caught to be a victim at my sacrifice, thinking such a one the stain of his family and a danger to my country. With the object of carrying this resolution into effect, I shall cause you to be observed by faultless and sharp-sighted emissaries, who have shaken off sleepy carelessness and will report to me concerning your conduct.'
Then the foremost of the assembly, folding their hands and bringing them to their foreheads, spoke:
15, 16. 'Your Majesty, all your actions tend to the happiness of your subjects, what reason can there be to despise you on that account? Even (god) Brahmâ cannot but sanction your behaviour. Your Majesty, who is the authority of the virtuous, be our highest authority. For this reason anything which pleases Your Majesty must please us, too. Indeed, you are pleased with nothing else but our enjoyment and our good.'
After the notables both of the town and the country had accepted his command in this manner, the king dispersed about his towns and all over his country officers, notified as such by their outward appearance to the people, with the charge of laying hold of the evildoers, and everywhere he ordered proclamations to be made by beat of drum day after day, of this kind:
17. 'The king, a granter of security as he is, warrants safety to every one who constantly cultivates honesty and good conduct, in short, to the virtuous. Yet, intending to perform a human sacrifice for the benefit of his subjects, he wants human victims by thousands to be taken out of those who delight in misconduct.
18. 'Therefore, whosoever henceforward, licentiously indulging in misbehaviour, shall disregard the command of our monarch, which is even observed by the kings, his vassals, shall be brought to the state of a sacrificial victim by the very force of his own actions; and people shall witness his miserable suffering, when he shall pine with pain, his body being fastened to the sacrificial post.'
When the inhabitants of that realm became aware of their king's careful search after evildoers with the aim of destining them to be victims at his sacrifice—for they heard the most frightful royal proclamation day after day and saw the king's servants, who were appointed to look out for wicked people and to seize them, appearing every now and then everywhere—they abandoned their attachment to bad conduct, and grew intent on strictly observing the moral precepts and self-control. They avoided every occasion of hatred and enmity, and settling their quarrels and differences, cherished mutual love and mutual esteem. Obedience to the words of parents and teachers, a general spirit of liberality and sharing with others, hospitality, good manners, modesty, prevailed among them. In short, they lived as it were in the Krita Yuga.
19. The fear of death had awakened in them thoughts of the next world; the risk of tarnishing the honour of their families had stirred their care of guarding their reputation; the great purity of their hearts had strengthened their sense of shame. These factors being at work, people were soon distinguished by their spotless behaviour.
20. Even though every one became more than ever intent on keeping a righteous conduct, still the king's servants did not diminish their watchfulness in the pursuit of the evildoers. This also contributed to prevent people from falling short of righteousness.
21. The king, learning from his emissaries this state of things in his realm, felt extremely rejoiced. He bestowed rich presents on those messengers as a reward for the good news they told him, and enjoined his ministers, speaking something like this:
22-24. 'The protection of my subjects is my highest desire, you know. Now, they have become worthy to be recipients of sacrificial gifts[98], and it is for the purpose of my sacrifice that I have provided this wealth. Well, I intend to accomplish my sacrifice in the manner which I have considered to be the proper one. Let every one who wishes for money, that it may be fuel for his happiness, come and accept it from my hand to his heart's content. In this way the distress and poverty, which is vexing our country, may be soon driven out. Indeed, whenever I consider my own strong determination to protect my subjects and the great assistance I derive from you, my excellent companions in that task, it often seems to me as though those sufferings of my people, by exciting my anger, were burning in my mind like a blazing fire.'
The ministers accepted the royal command and anon went to execute it. They ordered alms-halls to be established in all villages, towns, and markets, likewise at all stations on the roads. This being done, they caused all who begged in order to satisfy their wants, to be provided day after day with a gift of those objects, just as had been ordered by the king.
25. So poverty disappeared, and the people, having received wealth from the part of the king, dressed and adorned with manifold and fine garments and ornaments, exhibited the splendour of festival days.
26. The glory of the king, magnified by the eulogies of the rejoiced recipients of his gifts, spread about in all directions in the same way, as the flower-dust of the lotuses carried forth by the small waves of a lake, extends itself over a larger and larger surface.
27[99]. And after the whole people, in consequence of the wise measures taken by their ruler, had become intent on virtuous behaviour, the plagues and calamities, overpowered by the growth of all such qualities as conduce to prosperity, faded away, having lost their hold.
28. The seasons succeeded each other in due course, rejoicing everybody by their regularity, and like kings newly established, complying with the lawful order of things. Consequently the earth produced the various kinds of corn in abundance, and there was fulness of pure and blue water and lotuses in all water-basins.
29. No epidemics afflicted mankind; the medicinal herbs possessed their efficacious virtues more than ever; the monsoons blew in due time and regularly; the planets moved along in auspicious paths.
30. Nowhere there existed any danger to be feared, either from abroad, or from within, or such as might be caused by derangements of the elements. Continuing in righteousness and self-control, cultivating good behaviour and modesty, the people of that country enjoyed as it were the prerogatives of the Krita Yuga.
By the power, then, of the king performing his sacrifice in this manner in accordance with (the precepts of) the Law, the sufferings of the indigent were put to an end together with the plagues and calamities, and the country abounded in a prosperous and thriving population offering the pleasing aspect of felicity. Accordingly people never wearied of repeating benedictions on their king and extending his renown in all directions.
One day one of the highest royal officials, whose heart had been inclined to the (True) Belief, spoke thus to the king: 'This is a true saying, in truth.
31. 'Monarchs, because they always deal with all kinds of business, the highest, the lowest, and the intermediate, by far surpass in their wisdom any wise men.
'For, Your Majesty, you have obtained the happiness of your subjects both in this world and in the next, as the effect of your sacrifice being performed in righteousness, free from the blameable sin of animal-slaughter. The hard times are all over and the sufferings of poverty have ceased, since men have been established in the precepts of good conduct. Why use many words? Your subjects are happy.
32[100]. 'The black antelope's skin which covers your limbs has the resemblance of the spot on the bright moon's surface, nor can the natural loveliness of your demeanour be hindered by the restraint imposed on you by your being a dîkshita[101]. Your head, adorned with such hair-dress as is in compliance with the rites of the dîkshâ, possesses no less lustre than when it was embellished with the splendour of the royal umbrella[102]. And, last not least, by your largesses you have surpassed the renown and abated the pride of the famous performer of a hundred sacrifices[103].
33. 'As a rule, O you wise ruler, the sacrifice of those who long for the attainment of some good, is a vile act, accompanied as it is by injury done to living beings. Your sacrifice, on the contrary, this monument of your glory, is in complete accordance with your lovely behaviour and your aversion to vices.
34. 'Oh! Happy are the subjects who have their protector in you! It is certain that no father could be a better guardian to his children.'
Another said:
35. 'If the wealthy practise charity, they are commonly impelled to do so by the hopes they put in the cultivation of that virtue; good conduct, too, may be accounted for by the wish to obtain high regard among men or the desire of reaching heaven after death. But such a practice of both, as is seen in your skill in securing the benefit of others, cannot be found but in those who are accomplished both in learning and in virtuous exertions.'
In such a way, then, those whose hearts are pure do not act up to the enticement of the wicked. Knowing this, pure-heartedness is to be striven after.
[In the spiritual lessons for princes, also, this is to be said: