And it may be added as follows: '(The prince) who strives after material prosperity, ought to act in accordance with the precepts of religion, thinking a religious conduct of his subjects to be the source of prosperity.'
Further this is here to be said: 'Injuring animals never tends to bliss, but charity, self-restraint, continence and the like have this power; for this reason he who longs for bliss must devote himself to these virtues.' And also when discoursing on the Tathâgata: 'In this manner the Lord showed his inclination to care for the interests of the world, when he was still in his previous existences.']
This story is not met with elsewhere, it seems, at least in this shape. No. 50 of the Pâli Gâtaka is told with the same intention but in a different manner. The resolve of the Bodhisattva and his stopping bloody sacrifices is better accounted for in our text.
(Comp. Fausb., Gât. I, p. 202, translated by Rhys Davids, Buddhist Birth Stories, pp. 284-287.)
Neither adversity nor the brilliancy of sovereign power can relax in the high-minded the virtue of compassion towards living beings. This will be taught now.
In the time when the Bodhisattva, having well practised meritorious actions for a long time, and having come into possession of the virtues of charity, self-restraint, continence and compassion, was directing his extraordinary performances for the benefit of others, once, it is said, he became Sakra, the Lord of the Devas.
1. The magnificence of the Chief of the Celestials shone in a higher degree and displayed a greater majesty, since that rank had fallen to his share. Something analogous may be seen, when a palace adorned by a covering of fresh stucco is made resplendent by the moonbeams.
2. The rich lustre of that mighty state, to conquer which the sons of Diti dared push forward against the impetuous advance of the world-elephants and expose their breasts to their pestle-like tusks, that brilliancy was his. But though he easily enjoyed that happiness at his command, nevertheless, that bliss did not stain his heart with pride.
Ruling heaven and earth in the proper manner, he acquired splendid glory, which pervaded the whole universe. Now the Demons[104] could not bear the renown nor the very wonderful bliss which he enjoyed, and waged war against him. They marched to his encounter to fight him with an enormous army of elephants, chariots, horsemen and footmen, being the more terrible, as they were drawn up in the proud array of battle and made a noise as awful as that of the wild Ocean. Through the glittering blaze of their various kinds of offensive and defensive weapons they hardly suffered themselves to be looked at.
3. He for his part, though attached to the precepts of righteousness, felt however within his heart the disposition to indulge in the frenzy of fighting. He was prompted to do so by the pride of his enemies, by the danger of his own men, unpleasantly interrupted in their peaceful sport, also by the regard of his majesty and of the traditional line of conduct along the path of political wisdom.
So he mounted his excellent golden chariot, to which a thousand excellent horses were put. This chariot was decorated in front with a beautiful, high-floating banner which bore a figure in the attire of an Arhat[105] for its emblem. Its outer appearance was exceedingly brilliant, owing to the lustre reflected by the manifold precious stones and jewels that adorned it, and to the brightness which irradiated its flanks and which proceeded from the different flaming weapons, sharp-pointed and well-disposed to be ready for use, on both sides of the chariot. On the inside it was covered with a fine white blanket. Standing on it and surrounded by his great divine host of different arms, elephants, chariots, horse and foot, the Great Being met the forces of the Demons just on the border-line of the Ocean.
4. Then a great battle took place, destructive of the firmness of the timid as well as of the shields and mail-coats pierced by the strokes of the weapons with which they fought each other.
5, 6. Various cries were heard in the tumult of that struggle. Stay! Not in this manner! Here! Look out! Where are you now? You will not escape me! Strike! You are a dead man! So challenging one another they fought. And this noise mixing with the clashing and crashing of the arms all over the battle-field and the sound of the drums, made Heaven shake and almost burst.
7. The elephants on both sides, rushing on each other with great fury increased by the smell of the flowing juice, offered the frightful spectacle of mountains swept along by the wind of a world-destroying period.
8. Like portentous clouds, the chariots swept over the field, their floating standards resembling the lightning, and the rattling noise they made being as the roaring of the thunder.
9. Sharp arrows were flying over both armies, and fell down amidst the warriors of both the Devas and the Demons, hitting banners and royal umbrellas, bows and spears, shields and cuirasses, and the heads of men.
10. At the end the army of Sakra took to flight, frightened by the fiery swords and arrows of the Demons. The Lord of the Celestials alone held still the field, barring with his chariot the host of his enemies.
When Mâtali, the charioteer of the Lord of the Devas, perceived that the army of the Demons, high-spirited and overjoyed, was coming over them with a tremendous noise of loud warcries and shouts of victory, whereas the army of the Devas was almost intent on flight, he thought it was now the proper time to retreat, and so he turned the chariot of the Ruler of the Devas. While they were making the ascent[106], Sakra, the Lord of the Devas, caught sight of some eagle-nests which were placed on a silk-cotton tree just in the line of direction of the chariot-pole, so that they must needs be crushed by it. No sooner had he seen them, than seized with compassion he said to Mâtali, his charioteer:
11. 'The birds' nests on this silk-cotton tree are filled with not yet winged young ones. Drive my chariot in such a manner that these nests will not fall down crushed by the chariot-pole.'
Mâtali answered: 'In the meanwhile the crowds of the Demons will overtake us, sir.'
Sakra said: 'Never mind. Do you but take the proper care in avoiding these eagle-nests.' Upon which Mâtali answered:
12. 'Nothing short of turning the chariot can save the birds, O Lotus-eyed One. But we have at our heels yon host of foes who after a long time are at last getting the better of the Devas.'
At this moment Sakra, the Lord of the Devas, moved by the utmost compassion, showed his extraordinary goodness of heart and firmness of intention.
13. 'Well then,' said he, 'turn the chariot. Better is it for me to die by the terrible club-strokes of the chiefs of the Demons than to live blameful and dishonoured, if I should have murdered those poor terror-stricken creatures.'
Mâtali promised to do so, and turned his car, drawn by a thousand horses.
14. Now the foes who had witnessed his heroism in battle, seeing that the chariot turned, were overtaken with fear, and got into confusion. Their ranks gave way like dark rain-clouds driven away by the wind.
15. In the case of a defeat one single man turning his face to the enemy and barring the way of the enemy's forces, will sometimes abate the pride and haughtiness of the victors by the unexpectedness of his heroic valour.
16. The sight of the broken ranks of the hostile army encouraging the host of the Devas, made them return. For the Demons, terror-stricken and fleeing, thought no more of rallying and resisting.
17. Then the Devas, whose joy was mingled with shame, paid homage to their Lord; after which, brilliant and beautiful by the radiance of victory, he quietly returned from the battle-field to his city, where his zenana impatiently longed for him.
In this way was the victory gained in that battle. It is for this reason that the saying goes:
18. The low-minded do wicked actions in consequence of their cruelty. Average men, though pitiful, will do so, when come into distress. But the virtuous, even when in danger of life, are as little capable of transgressing their proper line of conduct as the Ocean its boundary.
[In this way the Lord did long ago protect animal life even at the risk of his own and of the loss of the Celestial sway. Keeping then in mind that it does not at all befit a wise man to offend living beings, much less to sin against them, a pious man must be intent on practising compassion towards the creatures. And the saying that Dharma in truth watches him who walks in righteousness (dharma)[107], is to be propounded here too. Likewise this (story) may be adduced when discoursing on the Tathâgata, and when treating of listening with attention to the preaching of the Law.]
What forbids the virtuous to transgress the boundary of good behaviour is the very shame of the Self within their hearts. This will be taught by the following.
Once the Bodhisattva, it is told, came to life in an illustrious family of Brâhmans, well-reputed both on account of their ancestry and their conduct. They were highly esteemed and renowned, observing their traditional customs and setting a high value on good education and good manners. Having received in due order the different sacraments: garbhâdhâna, pumsavana, sîmantonnayana, gâtakarma, and the rest, he dwelt at his teacher's, who was a Brâhman distinguished by the superiority of his learning, by his birth, and by his practice of the customary conduct, with the object of studying the Veda.
1. His quickness in mastering and retaining the texts he was taught, his devoted obedience for which his family had always been reputed—a virtue his correctness of conduct embellished by tranquillity, a rare ornament in a youth, made him obtain the love and affection of his teacher.
2. For virtues practised without interruption are magic charms to win the affection even of such as are burnt by the fire of hatred, how much more of the sound-hearted.
Now his teacher, in the intervals of rest from sacred study, with the object of trying the morals of all his disciples, was used to tell them frequently of his own sufferings, the effect of his poverty.
3.
4. 'The state of a moneyless man is the home of disregard, the abode of toil. And a very hard condition it is, devoid of pleasure, abounding in scantiness, and incessantly afflicting like a calamity.'
Like excellent horses, pricked with spurs, his disciples, very much moved by their attachment to their spiritual teacher, did their utmost to deliver to him ever more and better prepared food from their daily begging round. But he said to them: 'Good sirs, do not exert yourselves in this way. No offerings of food obtained by daily begging will diminish the distress of poverty to anybody. If you cannot bear my hardship, you ought rather to apply these your efforts to gaining wealth. Doing thus, you would act in the proper manner. Why do I say so?
5. 'Hunger is driven away by food, and thirst by water. The spell-uttering voice together with medicine expels illnesses. But poverty's pain is destroyed by wealth, that cause of being honoured by one's kinsmen.'
The pupils answered: 'What can we do for you? Unhappy we, that the extent of our power is so small. Moreover,
6, 7. 'If wealth, like food, were obtained by begging, we would not allow you to suffer by poverty in this degree, master. But the case is this. The proper, though weak, means for Brâhmans of gaining wealth is receiving gifts: and people here are not charitable. So we are powerless, and by this impotency we are smitten with grief.'
The teacher replied: 'But there are still other expedients for earning money, and they are explained in the law-books. Yet, my strength being exhausted by old age, I am not fit to put them into effect.'
The disciples said: 'But our strength is not impaired by old age, master. If, then, you think us capable of acting upon those precepts of the law-books, inform us of them, that we may requite you for your labour of teaching us.'
The teacher said: 'No, such means of earning money are hardly available, indeed, for young men, whose mind is too loose to carry out a strong resolution. Nevertheless, if Your Honours urge me, well[108], you may learn from me what one of the said expedients is.
8. 'In the law-precepts for the time of distress[109] theft is an approved livelihood for Brâhmans; and poverty, I suppose, is the extreme distress in this world. Consequently, it is no sin for us to enjoy the wealth of others, and the whole of these goods belongs, of a truth, to the Brâhmans.
9. 'Men such as you, would doubtlessly be able to seize on wealth even by violence. You should, however, not practise that mode of taking, minding your reputation. Therefore, you must show your energy in lonely places and times.'
By such language he loosened the bridle from his disciples. Accordingly they exclaimed 'Very well,' approving his bad words, as if they were good, and all of them engaged themselves to do so, all—save the Bodhisattva.
10. Him his innate goodness forbade to comply with the teacher's advice, and compelled him on the contrary to oppose it without delay, though it had been accepted as a duty by the other pupils.
Ashamed and with downcast looks he heaved a soft sigh and remained silent. The teacher perceived that the Bodhisattva did not approve of that fashion of making money, without, however, crying it down; and as he had a high regard for the virtue of that Great Being, he entered upon this reflection: 'For what reason does he disapprove of theft? Is it want of courage or disaffection towards me? Or does he really know it to be a wicked action?' Then in order to prompt him to open his true disposition of mind, he spoke in this way to the Bodhisattva: 'Say, noble Brâhman,
11. 'Those twice-born men, incapable of bearing my misfortune, are willing to resort to the course of life followed by the energetic and the heroes; but in you I find nothing but indolence and dullness. Surely, it is not you who are affected by our distress.
12. 'My suffering is evident. Its whole extent lies open to your eyes. I have made it plain by speech. Notwithstanding this, you are keeping quiet! How is it that your mind is undisturbed and untouched by sorrow?'
Upon this the Bodhisattva, after making his respectful salute to the teacher, said quite alarmed: 'Heaven forbid such feelings! Verily, it is not want of affection or hard-heartedness which causes me to keep apart, nor am I unmoved by the sufferings of my teacher, but I think the mode of acting which my master has shown us, cannot be put into practice. It is impossible, indeed, to commit a wicked action without being seen. Why? Because there does not exist anything like loneliness.
13, 14. 'No, loneliness is not to be found anywhere in the world for the evildoer. Are not the invisible Beings and the purified Munis, whose eye is endowed with divine power, lookers-on of men's actions? Not seeing them, the fool thinks himself alone and commits sin[110].
15. 'But I know no lonely place at all. Wheresoever I do not see anybody else, is such a place for that reason empty of my own Self?
16, 17. 'And of a bad action my Self is a witness far more sharp-sighted than any other person. Another may perchance perceive me, or he may not, his mind being occupied with his own business, but my Self, eagerly surrendering my whole mind to passion, knows with certainty that I am doing evil.
'For this reason, then, I keep aloof from the others.' And understanding that his teacher was fully appeased, the Bodhisattva continued:
18. 'Nor can I persuade myself into the belief that you would deceive us in this way for the sake of obtaining wealth. Who, indeed, knowing the difference between virtue and vice, would allow himself to be seduced by the pursuit of wealth to oppression of virtue?
'As to my own determination, I will inform you of it.
19. 'Better is it to take the almsbowl and vile garments, beholding the opulence of the mansions of one's enemies, than to bend one's mind shamelessly to the murder of Righteousness, be it even with the goal of attaining the Sovereignty of the Devas!'
At these words his teacher rapt with joy and admiration, rising from his seat, embraced him, and said to him: 'Very well, very well, my son! well-said, well-said, noble Brâhman! This is becoming to your keen intellect adorned by tranquillity.
20. 'Fools leave the path of duty, stirred by any motive whatever, but the virtuous do not allow themselves to be led astray even in the greatest distress; penance, learning, and wisdom being their wealth.
21. 'As the moon rising in autumn adorns the firmament, so you are the ornament of your entirely spotless family. For you the sacred texts you have been taught have their full import; that you have well understood them is made plain by your good behaviour; and my labour is crowned with success, it has not been fruitless.'
So, then, it is the very shame of the Self within their hearts that prevents the virtuous from transgressing the boundary of good behaviour. [For this reason the pious man (ârya) ought to have a powerful shelter in shame. (This story) is to be adduced on account of such texts[111] as this: 'In this way the faithful votary of our creed (âryasrâvaka), being well-guarded by the trench of his shame, avoids what is noxious and fosters what is wholesome.' Likewise in texts dealing with the feeling of shame and the regard of public opinion.]
The story of the Brâhman has the appearance of being the clumsy invention of some monk engaged in giving lessons of morality and in want of some story to illustrate the sinfulness of theft. I can scarcely believe it forms part of the old stock of traditional tales and folklore, as little as the story of the sacrifice (X). In its parallel in the Pâli Gâtaka, No. 305, sîlavîmamsanagâtaka (Fausb. III, pp. 18, 19), the old teacher's trial of his disciples is better accounted for.
(Cp. Pâli Gâtaka, No. 529; Fausb. V, 210-227.)
Even when sick with heavy sorrow, the virtuous are disinclined to follow the road of the low-minded, being prevented from such actions by the firmness of their constancy[112]. This will be taught as follows.
In the time when the Bodhisattva by the practice of his surpassing virtues, veracity, liberality, tranquillity of mind, wisdom &c., was exerting himself for the benefit of the creatures, he was, it is said, a king of the Sibis, behaving like the embodied Righteousness and Discipline, and being intent on promoting the welfare of his subjects like a father.
1. Being withheld from sinful actions and put in the possession of virtues by their king, (who was solicitous of their true happiness) as a father is of his son's, his people rejoiced both in this world and in the next.
2. For his administration of justice followed the path of righteousness, and made no difference between kinsmen and the rest of his subjects. It obstructed for his people the road of wickedness, and accordingly became, so to speak, a flowery ladder to Heaven.
3. Perceiving the welfare of the creatures to be the effect of righteousness, this ruler of men knew no other purpose than this. With all his heart he delighted in the path of righteousness, and did not allow others to violate its precepts.
Now in the capital of that king one of the principal townsmen had a daughter of surpassing beauty, the acknowledged pearl of womanhood. The ravishing loveliness of her figure and charms made her appear like the embodied goddess Srî or Rati or one of the Apsarasas.
4. No one—except only the passionless—having got the sight of her, was able to withdraw his looks from her figure, as she fascinated by her beauty the eyes of all who beheld her.
And for this reason her relations called her Unmâdayantî ('she who makes mad').
Now her father apprised the king of the fact of his having such a daughter: 'Your Majesty, the very pearl of womanhood has appeared in your realm. May Your Majesty therefore deign to decide whether you will accept her as a wife or renounce her.' Then the king ordered some Brâhmans knowing the auspicious marks of women, to go and see the maiden, whether she would be a suitable wife for him or not. The father of Unmâdayantî led them to his house, and ordered his daughter to attend upon his guests herself. She said she would do so, and commenced to attend upon them at table in the proper manner. But no sooner did those Brâhmans...
5. Behold her, than their eyes were compelled to remain closely fixed on her face. The god of Love had subdued their firmness. They had no power over their looks and minds, and they got rid of their consciousness as if drunkenness had befallen them.
Now, as they were not able to keep their grave and modest countenance nor their imperturbability, still less to take their meal, the householder removed his daughter out of the reach of their looks and attended himself on the Brâhmans. Afterwards they took their leave and went off. And they considered thus: 'The lovely beauty of that maiden is, in truth, of an exceedingly enchanting nature, it acts like a very magic spell. For this reason it is not suitable for the king to see her, much less to make her his queen. Having grown mad by her splendid beauty, as he doubtless would, he would abate his zeal for performing his religious and political duties, and his neglect of duly observing his royal occupations would prove of evil consequence to his subjects, inasmuch as it would obstruct the sources of their profit and welfare.
6. 'The sight of her would be sufficient to put an obstacle in the way even of Munis striving after perfect wisdom, how much more may it obstruct the success of a young prince, who lives in pleasure, and is in the habit of directing his looks to the objects of sense.
'Therefore it is now suitable to act so and so.' Having thus made up their mind, they went to the king's presence at a convenient time and reported this to him: 'We have seen that maiden, great king. She is a beauty and possesses lovely charms, but no more; she has inauspicious marks, the foretokens of ruin and ill luck. For this reason Your Majesty ought not even to see her, how can there be question about wedding her?
7. 'A reprehensible wife veils both the glory and the opulence of two families; just as a cloudy, moon-concealing night hides the beauty and the arrangement of all things upon earth and in heaven.'
Thus informed, the monarch imagining her to have inauspicious marks and not to suit his family, no more desired to possess her; and the householder, her father, knowing the king's disaffection, married his daughter to one Abhipâraga, officer of that very king.
Now once, on the occasion of the Kaumudî-festival, it happened that the king desired to contemplate the splendour of that festivity in his capital. He mounted his royal chariot and took a drive through the town, which exhibited a pleasant aspect. Its streets and squares had been sprinkled and cleansed; their white ground was strewed with many-coloured flowers; gay flags and banners were floating aloft; everywhere there was dancing and singing, representations of burlesques, ballets and music; the mingled scents of flowers, incense, odoriferous powders, perfumes, garlands, strong liquors, also of the perfumed water and the ointments used in ablutions, filled the air with fragrance; lovely articles were being exposed for sale; the principal streets were thronged by a merry crowd of townsmen and landsmen in their best dress. While making this tour, the king came near the house of Abhipâraga. Now Unmâdayantî, who was angry with the king because he had spurned her—had she not inauspicious marks?—feigning curiosity to see him, placed herself in his way, illuminating by her brilliant figure the flat roof of her house, as a flash of lightning does the top of a cloud; he at least, she thought within her heart, must be able to keep the firmness of his mind and the power over his senses unshaken by the sight of an inauspicious person such as I am. Accordingly, while the king, curious to behold the splendour of his capital, was looking around, his eye suddenly fell upon her, when she was facing him. On beholding her, the monarch,
8, 9. Though his eyes were accustomed to the attraction of the wanton graces of the beauties in his zenana; though, owing to his attachment to the path of virtue, his disposition was a modest one, and he had exercised himself in subduing his organs of sense; though he possessed in a high degree the virtue of constancy; though he had a strong feeling of shame and his looks were afraid of the looks of young women belonging to others—notwithstanding this, he could not prevent the Love-god's triumph, and gazed a long gaze at that woman, powerless to turn his eyes from her face.
10. 'Is she perhaps the embodied Kaumudî or the Deity of that house? is she an Apsaras or a Demoness? For it is no human figure she has.'
Thus the king considered and could not look enough at her; and the chariot passing away did not comply with his heart's desire. He went back to his palace, like one absent-minded, thinking of nothing but her; his firmness of mind had been confounded by Manmatha. So he asked his charioteer Sunanda secretly:
11. 'Do you know, whose is the house that was surrounded by a white wall, and who is she whose beauty did shine there like lightning in a white cloud?'
The charioteer answered: 'Your Majesty has a high official named Abhipâraga. His is that house, and she is his wife, a daughter to Kirîtavatsa, of herself she is called Unmâdayantî.' After hearing this, the thought that she was the wife of another caused his heart to faint, and sorrowful meditation made his eyes rigid. Often he heaved long and deep sighs, and thinking of nothing but her, said in a low voice to himself:
12. 'Alas! She bears her soft and lovely-sounding name rightly, indeed. This sweet-smiling Unmâdayantî has made me almost mad.
13. 'I would forget her, yet I see her always in my mind. For my thoughts are with her, or rather it is she who is the ruler of my mind.
14. 'And this weakness of mind is mine concerning the wife of another! No doubt, I am mad; shame, it seems, has left me, just as sleep has.
15. 'While absorbed in representing to myself with rapture the grace of her features, her smiles, her looks, O that sudden sound of the metal plate[113], reminding me by its bold tone of the regular order of my royal business, rouses my wrath.'
In such a way the king's firmness was shaken by the power of passionate love. And although he endeavoured to compose his mind, his languishing appearance and emaciating body, his frequent absorption in thoughts together with his sighs indicated very clearly his state of being in love.
16. However great his firmness was in disguising his heart's disease, it manifested itself in his countenance, his eyes rigid from thoughtfulness, and his emaciated limbs.
Now Abhipâraga, the king's officer, was skilled in the interpretation of the expression of the face and of such gestures as betray internal feelings. When he had observed the behaviour of his master and discovered its cause, he apprehended evil consequences from it, for he loved the king and knew the excessive power of the God of Love. So he asked the king for a secret audience; which having been granted to him, he went up to his master, and having obtained permission, thus addressed him:
17, 18. 'While engaged in worshipping the Devas to-day, O lotus-eyed ruler of men, see, a Yaksha, presenting himself before my eyes, said to me: "How is it that you ignore the king having fallen in love with Unmâdayantî?" After speaking so, he disappeared immediately, and I, solicitous on this account, approached you. If this is true, why, Your Majesty, do you show in this manner your disaffection to me by your silence?
'Therefore, may Your Majesty do me the favour of accepting her from my hand.'
The king was confounded, and dared not lift up his eyes for shame. Nevertheless, even though he was in the power of Love, he did not suffer his firmness to falter, thanks to his being conversant with the Law by long and good practice, and refused that offer in plain terms. 'No, that may not be. For what reason? Hear.
19. 'I would lose my merit and I know myself not to be immortal. Further, my wicked deed would be known also to the public. Moreover, if the fire of sorrow should burn your heart because of that separation, it would erelong consume you, as fire consumes dry grass.
20. 'And such a deed, which would cause that distress in both this world and the next and would be committed for this reason by the unwise, the wise never will do, for this very reason.'
Abhipâraga answered: 'Do not fear, Your Majesty, that you will transgress the Law herein.
21. 'By assisting in the performance of a gift you will act in accordance with the Law, whereas by not receiving her from my hand you would do wrong, since you obstruct the practice of giving.
'Nor do I see in this matter any occasion of damage to the reputation of Your Majesty. Why?
22. 'This is an arrangement between us; nobody else need know of it? Do not, therefore, put in your mind the fear of blame by public opinion.
'Further, to me this will be a favour, not a source of grief. Why so?
23. 'What harm can be procured to a faithful heart by the satisfaction obtained by serving the interest of his master? For this reason you may quietly indulge in your love; do not apprehend any grief on my side.'
The king replied: 'Stop, stop! no more of that wicked reasoning.
24. 'Surely, your very great attachment to my person prevents you from understanding that the righteous action which consists in the assistance to a deed of giving does not exist in the case of every gift.
25. 'Who by exceeding attachment to my person does not heed even his own life, is my friend, dearer to me than my kinsmen. His wife I am bound to respect as a friend's.
'You do not well, therefore, enticing me to a sinful action. And what you assert, "nobody else will know of it," will it be less sinful for this reason?
26. 'How can happiness be expected for him who commits a wicked action, though unwitnessed? As little as for him who has taken poison unseen. Both the pure-sighted Celestials and the holy ascetics among men cannot fail to witness him.
'Moreover, I tell you this:
27. 'Who may in earnest believe that you do not love her, or that you will not get into harm, as soon as you have abandoned her?'
Abhipâraga said:
28. 'I am your slave, I with my wife and children. You are my master and my deity. What infringement of Law, Your Majesty, can there be, then, if you act as pleases you with respect to this your female slave?
'As to your asserting that I love her, what matters it?
29. 'Yea, my liege, she is my beloved wife, and it is for this very reason that I desire her to be given to you. He who has given in this world something dear to him, receives in the next dear objects of exceeding loveliness.
'Therefore, Your Majesty may take her.'
The king spoke: 'Oh, do not say so! It is impossible for me to do so. Why?
30. 'I should dare throw myself on a sharp sword or into a fire with blazing flames, but I shall not be able to offend against Righteousness, which I have always observed, and to which I owe my royal bliss.'
Abhipâraga said: 'If Your Majesty will not take her, because she is my wife, then myself will command her to lead the life of a harlot, whom no one is forbidden to woo. Then Your Majesty may take her.'
The king answered: 'Are you mad?
31. 'If you were to abandon your guiltless wife, you would not only incur punishment from my part, but having become an object of reproach, likewise unavoidable grief in this world and hereafter.
'Desist then; do not enforce a bad action. Rather direct your mind to justice and honesty.'
Abhipâraga said:
32. 'And if by persisting, I really were to do an action which might be in any respect a violation of Righteousness and the source of censure among men and of the loss of my happiness—be these consequences whatever they may—I fain shall front them with my breast, owing to the gladness of mind I shall feel for having promoted your happiness.
33. 'No one I know in the world is more worthy than you to be worshipped by a sacrificial offering, O most mighty ruler of the earth. Well then, with the object of increasing my merit, deign to accept, like an officiating priest, Unmâdayantî as your sacrificial fee[114].'
The king said: 'No doubt it is your great affection for me that prompts you to the effort to promote my interest without considering what is right and wrong on your side. But this very consideration induces me the more to prevent you. Verily, indifference as to the censure of men cannot at any rate be approved. Look here!
34. 'Who, neglecting Righteousness, does not mind either the censure of men or the evil consequences in the next world, will attain but this: in this world people will distrust him; and surely, after death he will be destitute of bliss.
'And therefore I press this upon your mind.
35. 'Never delight in injuring Righteousness for the sake of life[115]. The sin you would incur would be great and unquestionable, the advantage trifling and doubtful.
'Moreover, you should consider also this.
36. 'The virtuous do not like for themselves a pleasure, procured at the expense of others, whom they have distressed by bringing them into disrepute and the like. For this reason, standing on the ground of Righteousness, I shall bear the charge of my private interests alone without causing pain to others.'
Abhipâraga replied: 'But how could there be any room for injustice here, after all, either on my side, if moved by attachment I should take care of the interest of my master, or on the side of Your Majesty receiving her as a present from my hand? All Sibis, townsmen and landsmen, would ask: what is the injustice of this deed? Therefore, be pleased to take her, Your Majesty.'
The king replied: 'Verily, you have the intense desire of assisting me. But reflect well upon this: Which of us knows the Law best, the whole of the Sibis, you, or I?'
Then Abhipâraga hastily answered:
37. 'Owing to your assiduous and respectful watching of the wise, and your great regard for sacred lore, and the sagacity of your mind, Your Majesty ranks with Brihaspati as the most competent judge in all matters taught in the sciences concerning the Triad of objects (trivarga).'
The king said: 'This being so, you ought not to mislead me in this matter. Why do I say so?
38. 'The evil and the good of the people depend on the behaviour of their rulers. For this reason, and taking into account the attachment of my subjects, I shall continue to love the Path of the Pious above all, in conformity with my reputation.
39. 'As cows go after the bull in any direction, whether the right or the wrong one, following his steps, in the very same manner the subjects imitate the behaviour of their ruler without any scruple and undauntedly.
'You must take also this into consideration.
40. 'If I should lack the power of ruling my own self, say, into what condition would I bring this people who long for protection from my side?
41. 'Thus considering and regardful of the good of my subjects, my own righteousness, and my spotless fame, I do not allow myself to submit to my passion. I am the leader of my subjects, the bull of my herd.'
Then Abhipâraga, the king's official, appeased by this constancy of the king, bowed his head and reverentially folding his hands, spoke:
42. 'Oh! excessively favoured by Destiny are these subjects, having such a ruler as you are, Illustrious King. Love of Righteousness utterly disregardful of pleasures is to be searched for even among those who dwell in penance-groves.
43. 'In you the appellation of "great," O Mahârâga, is a brilliant ornament. For the name of a virtue, conferred upon persons devoid of virtue, has a rather harsh sound, as if used in contempt.
44. 'Nor is there any reason for me to be astonished or agitated by this grand deed of yours, who are a mine of virtues, as the sea is of jewels[116].'
In this manner, then, the virtuous, even when sick with heavy sorrow, are disinclined to follow the road of the low-minded, being prevented from such actions by the firmness of their constancy [and their being conversant with the Law by long and good practice. Thus considering, one ought to exert one's self in practising constancy and the precepts of the Law].
The tale of the maiden making mad all who see her, and the love-smitten monarch who prefers walking on the right path and even death to indulging in passion, is found also outside Buddhism. In the preface of his edition, Prof. Kern points out its being told thrice in the Kathâsaritsâgara; in the fifteenth, the thirty-third, and the ninety-first taraṅga. The last version, being a Vetâla-tale, is found also in the prose-work Vetâlapañkavimsati (Kathâ 14). Of the non-Buddhistic redactions all agree in this point, that the king at last dies from love, and that the faithful officer then kills himself. No doubt, this must be the original conclusion.
(Cp. the Pâli Gâtaka, No. 463; Fausb. IV, 137-143.)
Even speaking the truth on the ground of Righteousness is sufficient to dispel calamity, what can be said more to assert the good results of observing the Law? Considering thus, one must observe the Law. This will be taught now.
In one of his Bodhisattva-existences, the Great Being was, it is said, an extremely clever steersman. For this is the invariable nature of the Bodhisattvas, that owing to the innate acuteness of their mind, whatever branch of science or species of art they desire to know, they will in it surpass the wisest in the world. Accordingly the High-minded One possessed every quality required in such a one. Knowing the course of the celestial luminaries, he was never at a loss with respect to the regions of the sky; being perfectly acquainted with the different prognostics, the permanent, the occasional, and the miraculous ones, he was skilled in the establishment of a given time as proper or improper; by means of manifold marks, observing the fishes, the colour of the water, the species of the ground, birds, rocks, &c., he knew how to ascertain rightly the part of the sea; further he was vigilant, not subject to drowsiness and sleep, capable of enduring the fatigue of cold, heat, rain, and the like, careful and patient. So being skilled in the art of taking a ship out and bringing her home[117], he exercised the profession of one who conducts the merchants by sea to their destination. And as his navigation was very successful, he was named Supâraga[118]. The seaport where he lived bore the same name of Supâraga, which place is now known as Sûpâraga. Even in his old age, the sea-traders, longing for a prosperous voyage, applied to him, who was well-known to be an auspicious person, and entreating him in the most respectful terms, put him on their ships.
So it once happened that merchants who trafficked with Goldland, coming from Bharukakkha, longing for a prosperous voyage, touched at the town of Supâraga and requested that Great Being to embark with them. He answered them:
1. 'What kind of assistance do you think to find in me? Old age, having got power over me, makes my eyesight diminish[119]; in consequence of the many toils I have endured, my attentiveness has grown weak, and even in my bodily occupations I feel my strength almost gone.'
The merchants said: 'We are well acquainted with the bodily state of Your Honour. But this being so, and taking into account your inability for labour, we will not cause hardship to you nor give any task into your charge, but we want you for some other reason.
2. 'The dust touched and hallowed by your lotus-like feet will be auspicious to our ship and procure her a happy course over yonder sea, even if assailed by great danger. With this in mind we have applied to you.'
The Great Being, though subject to the infirmity of old age, went on board their vessel out of compassion. His embarkment was a cause of rejoicing for all those merchants, for they thought: 'Now we are assured of a very successful voyage.' And so they (set off, and) in course of their voyage reached that Abode of the Snakes who constitute the host of the Demons, that Pâtâla into which it is difficult to penetrate, that immense receptacle of water, the Great Ocean, which is haunted by different kinds of fishes and resounds with the murmuring of its never-quiet waves, whereas, when impelled by the power of the wind, it hurries on its billows after the whims of that element; on its bottom different sorts of ground extend, concealing manifold precious stones, and its surface is embellished by the various flower-garlands of its foam.
3. A dark-blue hue, like that of a heap of sapphires, was lying over the surface of the water, as if it were sky melted by the glowing heat of the sunbeams, when they lost sight of the coast-line and were running over the profound ocean which surrounded them on all sides.
After they were in the open sea, it happened in the afternoon, at the time when the sun-rays begin to lose their strength, that a great and very fearful, portentous event appeared to them.
4. On a sudden the sea took a terrible aspect. A violent gale arose, causing a fearful noise of the waters, lashing their surface so that they were covered with foam scattered by the breaking billows. The whole sea was brought in commotion up from its very bottom.
5. Shaken by the hurricane, the immense masses of water were stirred up and rolled with formidable rapidity. The Ocean assumed a dreadful appearance, like that of Earth quivering with her mountains at the time of a world-destruction.
6. Like many-headed hissing serpents, clouds of a bluish-black colour with their flame-tongues of lightnings obstructed the path of the sun, and without interruption produced the terrible noise of their thunder.
7. The sun, whose net-work of rays was hidden by thick clouds, gradually reached the point where it set. Then darkness availing itself of the opportunity of evening-time and growing, as it were, more concrete, enveloped all around.
8, 9. Smitten on its wave-surface by the rain-darts of the showers, the sea rose up, as if in rage, and the poor ship trembled very much, as if afraid, saddening the hearts of the occupants, who manifested their different natures according to their inherent qualities. Some were overcome by affliction and stood speechless with terror, some behaved courageously and were busily working to avert the danger, and some were absorbed in prayers to their tutelar deities.
Now, the strong wind making the sea run high, the vessel drove along with the current. The merchants did not discover land for many days, nor did they observe favourable signs of the sea. The signs they saw, being new to them, made their sadness increase, and they grew perplexed by fear and dejection. But Supâraga, the Bodhisattva, comforted them, thus speaking: 'You must not wonder at the sea tossing about in a portentous state of commotion; are we not crossing the Great Ocean? There is no reasonable ground for Your Honours to indulge in affliction. Why so?
10, 11. 'It is not by dejection that mischief is warded off; therefore do not remain in low spirits. But it is by courage that those who are clever to do what is to be done surmount difficulties without difficulty. Well then, shake off that sadness and dejection, set rather to work, availing yourselves of the opportunity of working. The energy of a wise man, kindled by firmness of mind, is the hand by which success is grasped in any matter.
'Let each of you then be intent on performing his special duty.' And the merchants, in this way invigorated by the Great Being, longing for the sight of land and looking down into the sea, beheld beings who had the figure of men and looked as if they wore silver armour; they saw them diving up and down the water-surface. When they had well considered their figures and marks, they informed Supâraga of that phenomenon, expressing their amazement. 'Verily, here we meet in the great ocean with a phenomenon unheard of before. These, in truth, are
12. 'Some beings not unlike warriors of the Demons, wearing silver armour, with fierce looks and ugly noses that resemble a quadruped's hoof; it seems as if they are sporting in the ocean-water, incessantly shooting and diving up and down its surface.'
Supâraga said: 'These are no men nor demons, but fishes, to be sure. Do not be afraid of them. Still,
13. 'We are driven far off both seaports. This is the sea called Khuramâlin [ = wearing hoof-garlands]. Therefore, you must try to turn back.'
But they could not veer on account of the vehemence of the high-running sea and of the strong wind, which continued to blow after them and drive the ship in the same direction. And as they advanced farther into the ocean, they perceived another sea shining with the lustre of silver and looking bright with the mass of white foam on its waves. On beholding this astonishing spectacle, they said to Supâraga:
14. 'What great sea is this, which is clothed, as it were, in fine white linen and veils its waters with its foam? It seems to bear on its surface fluid moonbeams, as it were, and to show all around a laughing face.'
Supâraga said: 'Alas! we are penetrating too far.
15. 'That is the sea Dadhimâlin [ = wearing garlands of coagulated milk], called the "milk-ocean." It is not wise to go farther on, at least if it is possible to turn back.'
The merchants said: 'It is impossible, indeed, to reduce the speed of the ship, much less to change her course. She is being driven too swiftly by the current, and the wind blows contrary.'
Now, having crossed also that sea, the merchants perceived another sea, whose rolling waves were tinged with the splendour of gold resembling the red-brown colour of flames, and filled with amazement and curiosity they spoke about it to Supâraga.
16. 'It looks now as if the high, bright waves had been tinged with the brilliant hue of the rising sun. They appear to us like a great, blazing fire. Say, what sea is this and how is it named for this reason?'
Supâraga answered:
17. 'Agnimâlin [ = wearing fire-garlands] is the celebrated name of this sea. It would be very prudent, indeed, if we were to turn back now.'
Thus saying the Great Being, far-seeing as he was, told them only the name of that sea, but concealed the cause of the change of colour of the water. After crossing also that sea, the merchants saw that the colour of the sea changed again; now its hue bore a resemblance to a grove of ripe kusa-grass, and its waters were illuminated with the lustre of topazes and sapphires; and prompted by curiosity they asked Supâraga:
18. 'Which of the seas now appears to us? Its waters have the colour of the blades of ripe kusa-grass. The breaking of its wind-stirred billows crowns it with a many-coloured foam-ornament, and makes it look as if it were overspread with flowers.'
Supâraga said: 'Say, merchants, you should now make efforts to turn back. Surely it is not advisable to go farther.
19. 'This is the sea named Kusamâlin [= wearing kusa-garlands]. Like an elephant not heeding the goad, it drags forcibly along with its irresistible waves, and will take away our enjoyment.'
And the merchants, not being able to turn the ship, however bravely they exerted themselves, crossed also that sea. Then perceiving another sea, the water of which had a greenish colour like that proceeding from the united brilliancy of emeralds and beryls, they asked Supâraga:
20. 'The sea we now behold has yet another appearance. Its waters have the green shine of emeralds and resemble a splendid meadow; they are adorned with foam as lovely as waterlilies. Which sea is this again?'
Upon this the Great Being, whose heart ached as he foresaw the calamity which was about to befall the merchants, heaved a long and deep sigh, and said in a low tone:
21. 'You have gone too far. It will be hard to return from hence. This sea, the Nalamâlin [= wearing reed-garlands[120]], is well-nigh at the end of the world.'
When they heard that answer, the poor merchants were utterly afflicted. Their minds lost their energy, their limbs became powerless, and sitting down in dull sadness, they did nothing but sigh. And after crossing that sea too, in the afternoon, when the Sun with his slackening circle of rays seemed to be about to enter the Ocean, a confused and tremendous noise, piercing both the ears and the hearts of the merchants, became audible. This noise rising from the sea may be compared to that of a sea swelling in rage, or of many thunderclaps together, or of bamboo-groves having caught fire and crackling. On hearing it, they suddenly jumped from their seats, trembling with fear and highly agitated, and examining the ocean all around, perceived that immense mass of water falling down as if over some precipice or chasm. That alarming sight filled them with the utmost fear, sadness, and dejection. They went to Supâraga, saying:
22. 'We hear a tremendous noise from afar, almost piercing our ears and crushing our minds, as if the Lord of the Rivers were angry, and this whole mass of ocean-water falls down, it seems, into an awful abyss. Say, then, what sea is that, and what do you think is best to be done now?'
Then the Great Being, agitated, said: 'Alas! alas!' and looking down over the sea, he spoke:
23. 'You have come to that dreadful place, from which no one returns, that mouth-like entrance of Death, the famous Mare-mouth[121].'
On hearing this the poor merchants, understanding that having reached the Mare-mouth, they must give up all hope of life, were distressed by the fear of death.
24-26. Some of them wept aloud or lamented and cried out. Others did nothing at all, being torpid from anxiety. Some with sorrow-stricken minds worshipped the deities, especially the Lord of the Devas, others resorted to the Âdityas, the Rudras, the Maruts, the Vasus, and to Sâgara himself [the Ocean]. Others again muttered various prayers, and there were those who paid in due form homage to Devi. Some again went to Supâraga, and in various modes and ways lamented piteously.
27-29. 'Practised in the virtue of compassionateness for others, you are in the habit of relieving from fear those who are in distress. Now the time has arrived for employing that excessive power of yours. Resolve, then, O wise man, upon rescuing us, the distressed, the helpless, who have taken our refuge in you. The Ocean in his wrath is now about to swallow us with his Mare-mouth, like a mouthful of food. It does not become you to neglect this poor crew perishing in the rolling waves. The great Ocean obeys your orders. Therefore, put a stop to his rage.'
But the Great Being felt his heart oppressed with great compassion and spoke thus, comforting the poor merchants: 'There is still an expedient to rescue us even now. It occurs to my mind. Why, I will make use of it. But you must show courage for a moment.' Now, when the merchants heard this, the hope that there was still some remedy, after all, revived their courage, and fixing their whole attention upon him, they became silent. But Supâraga, the Bodhisattva, after throwing his upper-garment on one shoulder and bending his right knee on the ship's deck[122], made his veneration to the Tathâgatas, having his whole heart absorbed by that deed of devotion; after which he thus addressed the company: 'Be you, honourable sea-traders, and you, different gods, who have your dwelling in the sky, my witnesses.
30. 'Since I have remembrance of my Self, since the time when I have become conscious of my deeds, I do not recollect, however much I ponder, having injured in any respect any living being.
31. 'By the power of this Act of Truth and by the strength of my store of meritorious actions may the ship turn safely without reaching the Mare-mouth!'
And so great was the power of the veracity of the Great Being, so great also the splendour of his merit[123], that the current and the wind changed to the opposite direction and made the vessel go back. The merchants beholding the ship go back, exulted with the highest admiration and joy, and expressing their veneration to Supâraga by reverential bows, told him that the ship went back. Then the Great Being instructed them to be calm and to hoist the sails quickly. And being thus ordered, they who had the charge of that work, having regained by their gladness their ability and energy, did as he had said.
32. Then, resplendent with the lovely outspread wings of her white sails, and filled with the sound of her merry and laughing crew, the ship flew over the sea, like a flamingo in the pure and cloudless sky.
Now while the ship, favoured by both current and wind, returned with as much ease as the heavenly cars move through the air, and was flying, so to speak, at her will, at that time of the day, when the gathering darkness extends far and wide, and the sky, no more adorned by the dimming glow of the twilight, begins to make the ornaments of its constellations appear on the firmament, where still a faint remnant of light is left, in that moment, then, of the commencement of the rule of Night, Supâraga addressed the merchants in these terms: 'Well, traders, while crossing the Nalamâlin sea and the others, you must draw up sand and stones from the bottom of the seas and charge your ship with as much as she can contain. By this practice she will keep her sides firm, if assailed by a violent hurricane; besides, that sand and gravel being pronounced to be auspicious, will doubtless tend to your profit and gain.' And the merchants, being shown the fit places all along by the deities, who did so out of affection and veneration for Supâraga, drew up from thence what they meant to be sand and stones, and loaded their ship with that burden. But, in fact, that sand and those stones were beryls and other jewels. And in that one night's course they reached Bharukakkha[124].
33. At day-break they beheld with gladness their ship filled with treasures: silver, gold, sapphires, beryls, and at the same time they saw that they had arrived in their country; and exulting with joy they praised their saviour.
In this manner even speaking the truth on the ground of Righteousness is sufficient to dispel calamity, what can be said more to assert the good results of observing the Law? Thus considering, one must observe the Law. [Likewise, when discoursing on the assistance of a virtuous friend, it is to be said: 'In this way those who rest on a virtuous friend attain happiness.']