(Cp. Pâli Gâtaka, No. 75, Fausb. I, 331-32; Kariyâpitaka III, 10.)
The designs of those who practise good conduct will be successful and thrive even in this world, how much more in the next. For this reason perfect pureness of conduct ought to be striven after, as will be taught by the following.
The Bodhisattva, it is said, was once a chief of fishes, living in a certain small lake, the lovely water of which was embellished with various lotuses and waterlilies, white, red, and blue, adorned with couples of swans, ducks, and geese, and covered with the blossoms of the trees growing on its borders. Yet, owing to his constant practice of (the virtue of) helping others in many previous births, he was wholly given up to the business of procuring for others what would be good and agreeable to them, even in this fish-existence.
1. By the power of a long practice, actions good or wicked become inherent in mankind to such an extent that they will perform them in a new existence without any effort and, as it were, while sleeping[125].
The Great Being, then, had set his heart on those fishes, as if they were his own dear offspring, and showed them his favour in various ways: by gifts, kind words, attending to their interests, and the like.
2. He restrained them from desiring to injure each other and made their mutual affection grow. Owing to this, and his efforts, and his knowledge of every expedient, he made them forget their habit of feeding in the (cruel) manner of fishes.
3. Duly protected by him, that shoal of fishes came to great prosperity, just as a town, when ruled by a king that acts in the proper manner, enjoys freedom from every kind of mishap.
One time, because of the deficiency of good fortune in the creatures and the neglect of the angels who have the charge of rain, the (rain)god did not rain his due amount. In consequence of this scantiness of rain, the lake was not filled up as before with new water yellow-coloured by the expanding flowers of the kadamba-trees. Afterwards, when the hot season arrived, the rays of the sun, burning more ardently and being, as it were, exhausted with fatigue, drank from that lake day after day; so did Earth heated by those rays; likewise Wind, who being, as it were, accompanied by flames, would long for refreshment. All three assuaging their thirst in the lake, so to speak, made it at last turn into a pool.
4. In the hot season the flaming Sun, the pungent Wind who seems to send forth flames, and heat-wearied Earth sick with fever, dry up the waters, as if they would allay their wrath.
That shoal of fishes, then, had come into a miserable condition. Not only the crowds of birds haunting the borders of the lake, but even troops of crows commenced to look upon them as their prey, for they could do nothing but lie and gasp. The Bodhisattva perceived the affliction and grief of his tribe, and moved with compassion entered upon this reflection: 'Oh! these wretched fishes, what a calamity has befallen them!
5. 'The water is decreasing every day, as if it vied with the life of mortals, and as yet clouds are not to be expected to come at all for a long time.
6, 7. 'There is no opportunity of withdrawing; and if there were, who should lead us elsewhere? Besides, our enemies, invited by our calamity, throng together against us. No doubt, they do but wait for the remainder of the water to dry up to devour these prostrate fishes under my very eyes.
'Now, what may be the proper act to be done here?' Thus considering, the Great Being saw but one means for relief, if he should avail himself of his veracity. Accordingly, while grieved by compassion in his mind and heaving a long and deep sigh, he looked upwards to the sky and spoke:
8. 'As truly as I do not recollect, however pondering, that I ever did harm to any living being, not even in the highest distress, by the power of this truth may the King of the Devas fill the water-basins with the water of his rains.'
When the Great Being had pronounced these words, there happened a miracle, occasioned by the power of his veracity joined to the store of his merit and to the favour shown to him by Devas, Snakes and Yakshas, who put into effect their might. In all parts of the sky there appeared rain-clouds, though out of season yet in the proper time[126]. They were hanging low, being loaded with rain; the deep and soft sound of approaching thunder was heard out of them; while flashes of lightning adorned their big and dark-blue tops, they were spreading over the sky, as if they embraced each other with their heads and arms gradually approaching.
9. Like the shadows of mountains projected in the mirror of the sky, the black clouds appeared, diminishing like those the circumference of the horizon and occasioning darkness with their tops.
10. The rumbling noise of the thunderclaps now resounded around, inducing the peacocks to utter cries of gladness and to perform various dancing movements, as if they praised the clouds. These accessories together with the incessant illumination by lightning gave the effect of great merriness and laughter irradiating those cloud-masses.
11. Then the clouds let loose streams of rain, which fell down like pearls loosened from their shells. The dust subsided, and a strong smell extended itself, carried about by means of the wind which accompanied the thunder-shower.
12. The sun-rays, though their power had reached its highest degree because of the hot season, were now hidden, and currents of water ran down from the mountains, troubling their banks with the rows of foam which they deposited.
13. And it was as if the slender figure of Lightning, illuminating the firmament again and again with her gold-yellow light-appearances, performed her dances, rejoiced at the music of the cloud-instruments.
Now, while the currents of palish water flowing to the lake from all sides were filling it, the crows and other birds had flown away at the very outset of the thunderstorm. The crowds of fishes recovering the hope of life, were much rejoiced. Yet the Bodhisattva, though his heart was pervaded with gladness, fearing lest the rain should cease, thus spoke to Parganya again and again:
14. 'Roar, Parganya, roar a roaring, loud and deep; dispel the joy of the crows, pouring out thy waters like jewels endowed with the flaming brilliancy of lightning, their companion[127].'
When Sakra, the Lord of the Devas, heard this, he became highly astonished and went in person to him. And eulogizing him, he spoke:
15. 'Surely, it is thy power, the effect of thy transcendent veracity, O mighty lord of fishes, that makes these rain-clouds pour out their waters with the lovely noise of thunder, as if they were waterpots bent down.
16. 'But I should incur the blame of great inattention if I neglected to approve of the exertions of such beings as thou, intent on performing such deeds for the benefit of the world.
17. 'Therefore, thou must be henceforth no more anxious. I am bound to assist the virtuous in carrying out their designs. Never shall this region, since it is the abode of thy virtues, be visited another time by a similar plague.'
After thus praising him in kind terms, he disappeared on the spot. And that lake obtained a very large increase of water.
In this manner the designs of those who practise good conduct will be successful and thrive even in this world, how much more in the next. For this reason entire pureness of conduct ought to be striven after.
(Cp. the Pâli Gâtaka, No. 35, Fausb. I, 213-14; Kariyâpitaka III, 9.)
Not even fire is able to surpass speech purified by truth. Having this in mind, one must addict one's self to speaking the truth. This will be taught as follows.
Once the Bodhisattva, it is said, lived in some part of the forest as a young quail. He had come out of the egg some nights before, and could not fly, his tender wings having still to grow both in height and in width; in his very small and weak body the different limbs, principal and minor, were hardly discernible. So he dwelt with his numerous brothers in the nest which his parents had built with great care and made impervious by a strong covering of grass. This nest was placed on a creeper within a thicket. Yet, still in this existence, he had not lost his consciousness of the Law, and would not feed on such living beings as his father and mother offered to them, but exclusively sustained himself by (the vegetable food) which was brought by his parents: grass-seeds, figs of the banian tree, &c. In consequence of this coarse and insufficient nourishment, his body did not thrive nor would his wings develop. The other young quails, on the contrary, who fed on everything offered to them, became strong and got full-grown wings. For this, indeed, is an invariable rule:
1. He who, not anxious about the precepts of the Law, eats everything, will thrive at his ease, but such a one as seeks for his livelihood in accordance with the precepts, and is careful about the choice of his food, will endure pain in this world[128].
Now, while they were living in this manner, a great forest-conflagration took place not far from them. It was characterised by an incessant tremendous noise, by the appearance of clouds of rising smoke, then by flying sparks of fire scattered about from the line of flames. This fire caused much terror to such animals as haunted the forest, and was a ruin to its groves and thickets.
4. The fire excited by the whirling of the wind, that seemed to induce it to perform manifold and different figures of dance, agitated its wide-outstretched flame-arms, leaped shaking its dishevelled smoke-hair, and crackled, taking away the courage and strength of those (animals and plants).
5. It jumped, as if in wrath, on the grasses, which trembling under the violent touch of the fierce wind, seemed to take to flight; and covering them with its glittering sparks, burnt them.
6. Yea, it seemed as if the forest itself, with its crowds of birds flying about terror-stricken and alarmed, with its terrified quadrupeds roaming on all sides, with the thick smoke which enveloped it, and with the sharp noise of the fire's crackling, uttered strong roars of pain.
So that conflagration, pushed forward as if pressed on by the violent wind, and following the grasses and shrubs, reached at last the vicinity of that nest. In this moment the young quails, uttering confused and discordant shrieks of fear, each caring for himself, none for the rest, suddenly flew up all together. Only the Bodhisattva, because of the great weakness of his body and because he had as yet no wings, made no such effort. Yet the Great Being knew his power and was not at all disturbed. When the fire with impetuosity approached, and was about to seize upon the nest, he addressed it with these persuasive words:
7. 'My feet are not strong enough to deserve that name, nor are my wings able to fly, and the disturbance caused by thee put to flight also my parents. Nothing worth offering to a guest like thee, is to be found here. For this reason it becomes thee to turn back from hence, Agni.'
When the Great Being had spoken these words, hallowed by the power of Truth,
8. That fire, though stirred by the wind, though raging in dry underwood mixed with very arid grasses, abated suddenly, as if it had reached a swollen river, having come near to his utterance of speech.
9. Still up to this day any forest-conflagration, reaching that famous place in the Himâlaya, however high its flames may rise by the power of the wind, will lessen its fire and slacken its rage, in the same way as a many-headed serpent is charmed by a spell.
For what reason, then, has this (tale) been adduced? It will be said.
10. As little as the sea with its rolling billows will transgress the shore, or he who loves Truth the discipline ordained by the Lord of Munis, so little even fire is able to transgress the command of the veracious. For this reason one must never leave Truth.
In this manner, then, not even fire is able to surpass speech purified by truth. Having this in view, one must addict one's self to speaking the truth. [This story is also to be told, when discoursing on the Tathâgata.]
(Cp. Pâli Gâtaka, No. 512, Fausb. V, pp. 11-20.)
Drinking intoxicating liquors is an exceedingly bad action, attended by many evils. Having this in mind, the virtuous will keep back their neighbour from that sin, how much more their own selves. This will be taught as follows.
One time the Bodhisattva, having by his excessive compassion purified his mind, always intent on bringing about the good and the happiness of others, manifesting his holy practice of good conduct by his deeds of charity, modesty, self-restraint, and the like, held the dignity of Sakra, the Lord of the Devas. In this existence, though he enjoyed to his heart's content such paramount sensual pleasures as are proper to the Celestials, yet Compassionateness ruled his mind so as not to allow him to relax his exertions for the benefit of the world.
1. As a rule the creatures, drinking from the wine[129] of prosperity, are not watchful, not even with respect to their own interests. He, on the contrary, was not only free from the drunkenness originating from the transcendent enjoyments which attend the sovereign rank among the Devas, but his watchfulness for the interests of others was as great as ever.
2. Being full of affection towards the creatures, as if they were his kinsmen, those poor creatures harassed by many violent calamities, he never forgot to take care of the interests of others, persisting in his strong determination and being well aware of his own (extraordinary) nature.
Now, one day the Great Being was casting His eyes over the world of men. His eye, great as His nature and mildly looking according to His friendliness, while bending down to mankind with compassion, perceived a certain king, whose name was Sarvamitra [= every one's friend], who by the sin of his intercourse with wicked friends was inclined to the habit of drinking strong liquors, himself with his people, townsmen and landsmen. Now, having understood that the king saw no sin in this habit, and knowing that drinking constitutes a great sin, the Great Being, affected with great compassion, entered upon this reflection: 'It is a pity, indeed, how great a misery has befallen this people!
3. 'Drinking, like a lovely but wrong path—for it is a sweet thing at the outset—leads away from salvation such people as fail to recognise the evils which it causes.
'What, then, may be the proper way to act here?... Why, I have found it.
4. 'People like to imitate the behaviour of him who is the foremost among them; this is their constant nature. Accordingly, here the king alone is the person to be cured, for it is from him that originates the good as well as the evil of his people.'
Having thus made up his mind, the Great Being took on himself the majestic figure of a Brâhman. His colour shone like pure gold; he wore his hair matted and twisted up, which gave him a rather stern appearance; he had his body covered with the bark-garment and the deer-skin[130]. A jar of moderate size, filled with surâ, was hanging down from his left side. In this shape, standing in the air he showed himself to king Sarvamitra, while he was sitting with his company in his audience-hall, and their conversation had turned to be such as attends drinking surâ, âsava, maireya[131], rum, and honeyed liquor. On seeing him, the assembly, moved by surprise and veneration, rose from their seats, and reverentially folded their hands to him. After which, he began to speak in a loud voice, resembling the deep noise of a cloud big with rain:
5.
6. 'I have here a jar adorned with this bracelet-like wide wreath of flowers, fluttering in the wind. See how proud it looks, decorated as it is by tender foliage. Which of you desires to possess it by purchase?'
Upon which, that king, whose curiosity was excited by astonishment, reverentially fixing his eyes on him and raising his folded hands, spoke these words:
7. 'Like the morning-sun thou appearest to us by thy lustre, like the moon by thy gracefulness, and by thy figure like some Muni. Deign to tell us, then, by what name thou art known in the world. Thy different illustrious qualities make us uncertain about thee.'
Sakra said:
8. 'Afterwards you will know me, who I am, but now be intent on purchasing this jar from me—at least if you are not afraid of the sufferings in the next world or heavy calamities to be expected still in this.'
The king replied: 'Verily, such an introduction to a bargain as is made by Thy Reverence, I never saw before.
9, 10. 'The ordinary mode of offering objects for sale among men is to extol their good qualities and conceal their faults. Surely, that manner practised by thee is becoming such men as thou, who abhor falsehood. For the virtuous will never forsake veracity, even when in distress!
11. 'Tell us then, Eminent One, with what this jar is filled. And what is it, that such a mighty being as thou may desire from our side by the barter?'
Sakra said: 'Hear, mighty sovereign.
12. 'It is not filled with water, either the largess of the clouds or drawn from a holy stream; nor with fragrant honey gathered out of the filaments of flowers; nor with excellent butter; nor with milk, whose hue equals that of the moonbeams awaking the waterlilies in a cloudless night. No, this jar is filled up with mischievous liquor. Now, learn the virtue of this liquor.
13. 'He who drinks it will lose the control of himself, in consequence of mind-perplexing intoxication; as his mindfulness will slacken, he will stumble even on plain ground; he will not make a difference between food allowed and forbidden, and will make his meals of whatever he may get. Of such a nature is the fluid within this jar. Buy it, it is for sale, that worst of jars!
14. 'This liquor has the power of taking away your consciousness, so as to make you lose the control of your thoughts and behave like a brute beast, giving your enemies the trouble of laughing at you. Thanks to it, you may also dance in the midst of an assembly, accompanying yourself with the music of your mouth. Being of such a nature, it is worth purchasing by you, that liquor within the jar, devoid as it is of any good!
15. 'Even the bashful lose shame by drinking it, and will have done with the trouble and restraint of dress; unclothed like Nirgranthas[132] they will walk boldly on the highways crowded with people. Of such a nature is the liquor contained in this jar and now offered for sale[133].
16. 'Drinking it may cause men even to lie senseless asleep on the king's roads, having their figures soiled with food ejected by their vomitings and licked from their face by bold dogs. Such is the beverage, lovely to purchase, which has been poured into this jar!
17. 'Even a woman enjoying it may be brought by the power of intoxication into such a state, that she would be able to fasten her parents to a tree and to disregard her husband, may he be as wealthy as Kubera[134]. Of this kind is the merchandise which is contained within this jar!
18. 'That liquor, by drinking which the Vrishnayas and the Andhakâs were put out of their senses to this degree, that without minding[135] their relationship they crushed down each other with their clubs, that very beverage of maddening effect is enclosed within this jar!
19. 'Addicted to which whole families of the highest rank and dignity, the abodes of splendour, perished, that liquor which has caused likewise the ruin of wealthy families, here in this jar it is exposed for sale.
20. 'Here in this jar is that which makes the tongue and the feet unrestrained, and puts off every check in weeping and laughing; that by which the eyes look heavy and dull as of one possessed of a demon; that which impairing a man's mind, of necessity reduces him to an object of contempt.
21. 'In this jar is ready for sale that which, disturbing the senses of even aged people and making them timid to continue the road which leads to their good, induces them to talk much without purpose and rashly.
22. 'It is the fault of this beverage, that the old gods, having become careless, were bereaved of their splendour by the King of the Devas, and seeking for relief were drowned in the Ocean. With that drink this jar is filled. Well, take it!
23. 'Like an Incarnation of Curse she[136] lies within this jar, she by whose power falsehood is spoken with confidence, as if it were truth, and forbidden actions are committed with joy, as if they were prescribed. It is she who causes men to hold for good what is bad and for bad what is good.
24. 'Well, purchase then this madness-producing philtre, this abode of calamities, this embodied Disaster, this mother of sins, this sole and unparalleled road of sin[137], this dreadful darkness of mind.
25. 'Purchase from me, O king, that beverage which is able to take away a man's senses entirely, so that, without caring for his happiness or future state, he may strike his own innocent father or mother or a holy ascetic.
26. 'Such is this liquor, known among men by the name of surâ, O you lord of men, who by your splendour equal the celestials (surâs). Let him endeavour to buy it, who is no partisan of virtues.
27. 'People, being addicted to this liquor, grow accustomed to ill-behaviour, and will consequently fall into the precipices of dreadful hells or come to the state of beasts or to the attenuated condition of pretâs. Who then, forsooth, should make up his mind even to look at this liquor?
28. 'And, be the result of drinking intoxicating liquors ever so trifling, still that vice destroys the good conduct and the good understanding of those who pass through human existence. Moreover it leads afterwards to the residence in the tremendous hell Avîki, burning with flaming fire, or in the world of spectres[138], or in the bodies of vile beasts.
29. 'In short, drinking this destroys every virtue. It deadens good conduct (sîla), forcibly kills good reputation, banishes shame, and defiles the mind. How should you allow yourself to drink intoxicating liquors henceforward, O king?'
By these persuasive words of Sakra and his strong arguments the king became aware of the sinfulness of drinking intoxicating liquors. He cast off the desire of taking them, and addressing his interlocutor said:
30. 'As an affectionate father would deign to speak to his son, or a teacher to his pupil in reward for his discipline and attachment, or a Muni who knows the difference between the good and the evil modes of life, such an import is conveyed in the well-said words thou hast spoken to me out of benevolence. For this reason I will endeavour to honour thee, as is due, by a deed.
'In return for thy well-said sentences Thy Reverence will at least deign to accept from us this honour.
31. 'I give thee five excellent villages, a hundred female slaves, five hundred cows, and these ten chariots with the best horses harnessed to them. As a speaker of wholesome words thou art a Guru to me.
'Or, wert thou to desire anything else to be done from my side, Thy Reverence would favour me once more by ordering so.'
Sakra replied:
32, 33. 'I do not want villages or other boons. Know me to be the Lord of the Celestials, O King. But the speaker of wholesome words is to be honoured by accepting his words and acting up to them. For this is the way which leads to glory and bliss, and after death to the many different forms of happiness. Therefore, throw off the habit of taking intoxicating drinks. Holding fast to Righteousness you shall partake of my heaven.'
After thus speaking, Sakra disappeared on the spot, and the king, with his townsmen and landsmen, desisted from the vice of drinking strong liquors.
In this manner, then, the virtuous, considering the use of intoxicating liquors an exceedingly bad action, attended by many evils, will keep back their neighbour from this sin, how much more their own selves. [And when discoursing about the Tathâgata, this is also to be propounded: 'In this manner the Lord was careful of the good of the world already in his previous existences.']
The state of a householder is beset with occupations inimical to religious conduct and tranquillity. For this reason it does not please those who long only for the Self[139]. This will be taught by the following.
One time the Bodhisattva was born in a wealthy family, noted for their virtuous mode of life and good behaviour, so as to be much sought in alliance and highly esteemed by the people. That family was like a refreshing well to persons of good birth; they shared the stores of their treasuries and magazines with Sramanas and Brâhmans; their houses were open to friends and kinsmen; the poor and the mendicants lived by their gifts; the artisans found business and protection with them; and by their splendid riches they were permitted to bestow their favour and hospitality on the king. Being born in this family, he grew up in course of time, and studied such branches of science as are reputed of much value in the world, while he turned his mind with no less zeal to various arts, the knowledge of which is optional. Owing to his accomplished education, his beautiful figure pleasing the eyes of men, and the knowledge of the world he displayed without infringing the precepts of the Law, he won the hearts of his fellow-citizens, who considered him like their kinsman.
1, 2. For it is not on account of their relationship that we honour our relations, nor do we consider the rest of men as strangers because they are not related to us. No, men are considered relations or strangers, according as their virtues or vices make them meet with esteem or disregard.
But that Great Being had familiarised himself with world-renunciation.
3. He had had experience of the householder's life, and knew it to be a state not consistent with the practice of religious duties, since the pain of seeking after profit is necessarily implied by it. On the other hand, he understood the happiness of the penance-groves. So his mind became detached from the pleasures of the home-life.
So, when his father and mother had died, he was utterly alarmed in his heart, and forsaking his splendid house and estate, an amount of many hundred thousands, duly bestowed it upon his friends and kinsmen, the poor, the Sramanas, and the Brâhmans; after which he abandoned his home. He passed successively through villages and towns and boroughs, through kingdoms and capitals of kingdoms, and took up his abode on a certain woody plateau in the vicinity of a town. There he soon became conspicuous by his tranquillity, his conversation, and his behaviour. The calmness of his senses, the result of a long practice of meditation, was natural and sincere. His language delighted both minds and ears, and while betraying his wisdom, still was full of modesty; and his discourses being entirely free from miserable and troublesome hope for gain, were distinguished by his solid learning, by his softness in addressing the audience to whom he paid due honour, and by the skill he displayed in tracing the boundary between actions allowed and forbidden by the Law. His behaviour, adorned with such practices as are proper to a homeless ascetic, was quite in accordance with that approved by the virtuous. And when the people who were curious about his person, became aware of how he had renounced a high rank in the world, they loved him the more for it.
4. Virtues obtain a more favourable reception, if found in persons distinguished by a high birth; in the same way as the beams shooting from the moon have more loveliness, when coming in contact with any object of excellent qualities.
Now some friend and companion of his father, having heard he had taken up his abode in that place, went up to him, moved by a great esteem for his virtues. After the usual friendly inquiries concerning his health, the visitor made himself known to the ascetic, and told him of the paternal relation. Then there ensued a conversation between them, in the course of which the said friend spoke these affectionate words: 'Your Reverence is likely to have acted inconsiderately, after all, renouncing the world in this age without further regard to your family and (the maintenance of) your lineage.
5. 'For what have you left your rich dwelling, setting your mind on the forest-life? Those who practise a virtuous life may observe this Law in their homes as well as in the wilderness.
6, 7. 'How, then, is it that you give yourself up to a life of pain, embracing this state of incarnate Poverty, as it were? You are sustaining yourself by alms obtained from the charity of strangers, and you are not a bit more regarded than a vagabond. Covered with rags and devoid of relations and friends, you are hiding yourself in this abode in the midst of the forest. Even the eyes of your enemies would be filled with tears, if they were to see you in this condition.
8. 'Therefore, return to your paternal house. Certainly, the abundance of its estate must be known also to you. Living there, you might fulfil at the same time both your religious duties and your desire of possessing a virtuous son.
'For such is the saying, indeed, you know:
9. 'Even to a hired labourer his home is comforting, like a well of fresh water, how much more an easily obtained luxurious residence, resplendent with wealth!'
But the Bodhisattva's mind was purified by that delicious and comforting ambrosia, the name of which is detachment. His heart clung to it, for he knew well the difference between the life of a householder and the forest-life; and the invitation to enjoy worldly pleasures had the same effect of discomfort upon him, as talking of a meal would have upon one who is satiated. So he spoke:
10. 'What you said was spoken out of affection, of a truth, and on this account your words did not grieve me so much. Nevertheless, do not employ the term "comfort," when speaking of one who lives in the world.
11. 'The householder's state is a state of great uneasiness, whether he have money or not. The rich man is vexed by the toil of guarding his wealth, and the poor one by the labour of earning it.
12. 'Now, since there is no comfort to be found in that state either for the rich or for the poor, it is mere folly to delight in it. It must have such consequences as are the result of wickedness.
'As to your statement that a householder, too, may be able to observe the precepts of the Law, certainly, this is true. But it is a very, very difficult thing, methinks. The life in the world is crowded with business quite adverse to the precepts of the Law, and implies a great amount of toil. Do but consider it well, sir.
13. 'The life of a householder is not suitable for one who desires nothing, nor for such a one as never speaks a falsehood, nor for him who never uses violence, nor for such a one as never injures others.
'And he whose heart is attached to the "comfort of home-life," cannot but strive to put into effect the means by which this is secured.
14. 'If you devote yourself to the Law, you must leave your house, and inversely, how can the Law exist for him who is attached to his house? It is tranquillity from which the road of the Law derives its flavour, but the success of a householder requires him to follow the way of courageous enterprise.
15, 16. 'Now, as the life of a householder is reprehensible for this reason, that it is in opposition to the Law, who, then, having got the true insight of his Self, will keep to it? He, indeed, whom the prospect of pleasure has once induced to neglect the Law, will feel himself not at all restrained as to the means of procuring those pleasures. Besides, they will certainly be followed by the loss of good reputation, by remorse and misfortune. For this reason the wise do not embrace that state, which procures pleasures to the detriment of the Law; they rather look on it as a calamity.
'Further I should think, the statement that living in the world procures happiness is only supported by belief (not by evidence).
17, 18. 'The pain caused by earning wealth or by guarding it never ceases for the householder. He is more than anybody else exposed to murder, captivity, and other calamities. Even if a king, he would not be satisfied with his riches, no more than the sea may be with showers of rain. Why can there be happiness in that state, or how, or when, if man does not attain by it the longing for self-perfection, but on the contrary in his infatuation fancies happiness is to be obtained by attachment to sensual objects? Such a person may be compared to one who tries to heal his wounds by rubbing.
'As a rule, in truth, I dare say,
19. 'As a rule, material prosperity makes the householder arrogant, nobility of extraction makes him proud, strength makes him insolent. His anger is roused by grief, and adversity puts him to dejection. At what time may that state offer an opportunity for tranquillity?
'And for this reason it is that I would persuade Your Honour not to oppose my determination.
20. 'The house is the home of many and heavy sufferings. It is haunted by the serpents named arrogance, pride, and infatuation. In it the lovely happiness of tranquillity comes to ruin. Who then should choose that abode that tends to dissolution?
21. 'In the forest, on the other hand, that home of the nothing-desirers, the mind is calm, enjoying the happiness of detachment. Can there exist so great a contentment in Sakra's heaven?
22. 'Thus considering I delight in the midst of the forests, although covered with rags and getting my livelihood through the kindheartedness of strangers. I do not long for such happiness as is tainted with unrighteousness. I abhor it like food besmeared with poison; I have got the insight of my Self.'
These persuasive words did not fail to make an impression on his paternal friend, who showed his high respect to the Great Being by entertaining him with a meal in the most distinguished manner.
In this manner, then, those who long only for the Self abandon the state of a householder, understanding that it is beset with occupations inimical to religious conduct and to tranquillity. [When treating of the virtue of detachment, this is to be propounded: 'Those who have once got the taste for detachment will not go back to worldly pleasures.']
The Pâli version of this story is not found in the Pâli Gâtaka nor in the Kariyâpitaka. The whole tale is nothing but a plea for the virtue of world-renunciation, the naishkrama, roughly dressed in the shape of a story, and may serve as a kind of introduction to the subsequent tales, where the state of an ascetic is glorified.
(Cp. the Pâli Gâtaka. No, 488, Fausb. IV, 305-314; Kariyâpitaka III, 4.)
Those who have learnt to appreciate the happiness of detachment are hostile to worldly pleasures; they will oppose them, like one opposes a deception, an injury. This will be taught as follows.
One time the Bodhisattva was born in an illustrious family of Brâhmans, far-famed for their virtues and their freedom from reprehensible vices. In this existence he had six younger brothers endowed with virtues similar to his, and who out of affection and esteem for him always imitated him; he had also a sister, who was the seventh. Having studied the Vedas with their auxiliary sciences, likewise the Upavedas[140], he obtained great renown on account of his learning, and high respect from the side of the people. Attending on his father and mother with the utmost piety, yea, worshipping them like deities, and instructing his brothers in different branches of science like a spiritual teacher or a father, he dwelt in the world, being skilled in the art of dealing with worldly affairs, and distinguished by his good manners. In course of time his parents died, which loss deeply moved his soul. Having performed the funeral ceremonies for them, after some days spent in mourning, he assembled his brothers and thus spoke to them:
1, 2. 'This is the necessary order of things in the world and a source of grief and excessive pain, that Death separates us at last from those with whom we have lived together for a time, however long. For this reason I desire to walk homeless on that laudable road to salvation, before Death, our foe, seizes me while attached to the householder's life.
'Having thus resolved, I have to advise you this, one and all. Our Brâhmanical family is in the lawful possession of some wealth obtained in an honest way. With it you are able to sustain yourselves. Well, then, you must dwell here as householders in a becoming manner. Let all of you be intent on loving and respecting each other, take care not to slacken your regard of the moral precepts and the practice of a righteous behaviour, keep up the assiduous study of the Veda, be prepared to meet the wishes of your friends, your guests, and your kinsmen. In short, above all things observe Righteousness.
3. 'Always continuing in good behaviour, observing your daily Veda-study, and delighting in almsgiving, you must keep the householder's state (so) as it ought to be kept.
4. 'In this way not only will your reputation increase, not only will you extend your virtue and your wealth, the substance of welfare, but you may expect your entrance in the other life to be happy. Do not commit, therefore, any inadvertence while living the householder's life.'
But his brothers, hearing him speak of the homeless life, felt their hearts grieved with the apprehension of separation. Their faces grew wet with tears of sorrow, and respectfully bowing they spoke to him: 'The wound caused by the sorrow-arrow of our father's decease is not yet healed. Pray do not rub it open afresh with the salt of this new assault of grief.
5. 'Even now the wound is still open which was inflicted on our minds by the death of our father. Oh! you must retract your resolution, wise brother, you must not strew salt on our wound.
6. 'Or, if indeed you are convinced that attachment to the house is unfit, or that the happiness of the forest-life is the road to salvation, why is it that you desire to depart for the forest alone, leaving us in this house destitute of our protector?
'For this reason, the state of life which is yours, that will be ours, too. We too will renounce the world.'
The Bodhisattva answered:
7. 'People who have not familiarised themselves with Detachment cannot but follow after worldly desires. As a rule they look upon it as the same thing to give up the world or to fall over a precipice.
'Thus considering, I restrained myself and did not exhort you to adopt the homeless life, though knowing the difference between both states. But if my choice please you too, why, let us abandon our home!' And so all seven brothers, with their sister as the eighth, gave up their wealthy estate and precious goods, took leave of their weeping friends, kinsmen and relations, and resorted to the state of homeless ascetics. And with them, out of affection also one comrade, one male, and one female servant set out for the forest.
In a certain place in the forest there was a large lake of pure, blue water. It exhibited a resplendent fiery beauty, when its lotus-beds were expanded, and offered a gay aspect, when its groups of waterlilies disclosed their calyxes[141]; swarms of bees were always humming there. On the shore of that lake they built as many huts of leaves as they numbered, one for each, placing them at some distance from one another, hidden in the shadow of the trees in the midst of a lovely solitude. There they lived, devoted to their self-imposed vows and observances, and having their minds bound to meditation. On each fifth day they were in the habit of going to the Bodhisattva in order to listen to his preaching of the Law. Then he delivered some or other edifying discourse to show them the way of tranquillity and placidity of mind. In those discourses he exhorted to meditation, asserted the sinfulness of worldly pleasures, expatiated on the sense of satisfaction which is the result of detachment, blamed hypocrisy, loquacity, idleness and other vices, and made a deep impression on his audience.
Now, their maid-servant, prompted by respect and affection, did not cease to attend upon them still in the forest. She was wont to draw eatable lotus-stalks out of the lake and to put equal shares of them upon large lotus-leaves in a clean place on the lake-shore; when she had thus prepared the meal, she would announce the time by taking two pieces of wood and clashing them against each other, after which she withdrew. Then those holy men, after performing the proper and usual prayers and libations, would come to the lake-side one after another according to their age, and each having taken successively his share of the stalks, return to his hut. There they would enjoy the meal in the prescribed manner and pass the rest of the time absorbed in meditation. By this practice they avoided seeing each other, except at preaching-time.
Such irreproachable morals, way of living, and behaviour, such love of detachment, and such proneness to meditation made them renowned everywhere. Sakra, the Lord of the Devas, having heard of their reputation, came to their abode for the purpose of trying them. Now, when he perceived their disposition to meditation, their purity from bad actions, their freedom from lusts and the constancy of their serene calmness, his high opinion of their virtues grew stronger, and he became the more anxious to try them.
8. He who lives in the depth of the forest without any desire, only intent on calmness of mind, such a man causes reverence for his virtues to arise in the hearts of the pious.
Sakra, then, the Lord of the Devas, watched the time when the maid-servant, after gathering her provision of eatable lotus-stalks, as white and tender as the teeth of a young elephant, washed them and arranged them in equal portions on lotus-leaves with the green hue of emeralds, taking care to adorn each share by adding to it some petals and filaments of the lotuses. After announcing the mealtime to the holy ascetics, as usual, by the noise of the clashing pieces of wood, she withdrew. At this moment Sakra, with the object of trying the Bodhisattva, made the very first share disappear (from the lotus-leaf).
9. When mishap arises and happiness disappears, then there is opportunity for measuring the constancy of the virtuous, as it cannot fail to start into view.
When the Bodhisattva, coming to the place of the first share of stalks, perceived that the eatable stalks were missing on his lotus-leaf, while the adornment of petals and filaments was disarranged, he thought: 'Somebody has taken my share of food.' Then, without feeling agitation or anger in his heart, he went back to his hut, where he entered upon his practices of meditation, as he was wont to do. Nor did he inform the other holy ascetics of the matter, to avoid grieving them. And those again, thinking it to be a matter of course that he had taken his share of the stalks, took their portions too, as usual, successively and in due order, and ate them severally, each in his hut; after which they became absorbed in meditation. In the same manner Sakra concealed the Bodhisattva's portion of the lotus-stalks on the second, the third, the fourth and the fifth day. But the effect was the same. The Great Being remained as calm in mind as ever, and was entirely free from trouble.
10. The virtuous consider the agitation of the mind, not the extinction of life, to be death. It is for this reason that the wise never become alarmed, not even when in danger of life.
In the afternoon of that (fifth) day those Rishis went up to the leaf-hut of the Bodhisattva, as they were in the habit of doing, in order to listen to his preaching of the Law. On seeing him, they perceived the leanness of his body. His cheeks looked hollow, his eyes were sunken, the splendour of his face had faded, his sonorous voice had lost its full sound. Yet, however emaciated, he was lovely to behold like the crescent; for his virtues, wisdom, constancy, tranquillity had not diminished. Accordingly, after coming into his presence and paying him the usual homage, they asked him with anxious excitement the cause of that emaciation. And the Bodhisattva told them the matter as he had experienced it. The ascetics, who could not suppose any one among themselves to have done an action so unbecoming as this, and who felt quite alarmed at his pain, expressed their sorrow by exclamations, and kept their eyes fixed on the ground for shame. But Sakra having by his power obstructed their free movement on the ways in which they could obtain knowledge, they were unable to come to a conclusion as to the cause of the disappearance. Then the brother of the Bodhisattva, who was born next to him, showing both his alarmed mind and his guiltlessness, made this extraordinary protestation[142]:
11. 'May he who took thy lotus-stalks, O Brâhman, obtain a house betokening by its rich decoration the wealth of its owner, a wife to his heart's desire, and may he be blessed with many children and grand-children![143]'
The second brother said:
12. 'May he who took thy lotus-stalks, O foremost Brâhman, be tainted with a strong attachment to worldliness, may he wear wreaths and garlands and sandal-powder and fine garments and ornaments, touched by his (playing) children!'
The third brother said:
13. 'May he who took thy lotus-stalks even once, be a husbandman who, having obtained wealth in consequence of his husbandry and delighting in the prattle of his children, enjoys the home-life without thinking of the time when he must retire from the world![144]'
The fourth brother spoke:
14. 'May he who prompted by cupidity took thy lotus-stalks, rule the whole earth as a monarch, and be worshipped by kings attending on him in the humble attitude of slaves, lowering their trembling heads!'
The fifth brother spoke:
15. 'May he be a king's family-priest in the possession of evil-charming mantras and the like, may he also be treated with distinction by his king, whosoever he be who took thy lotus-stalks!'
The sixth brother said:
16. 'May he who has been eager to possess thy lotus-stalks rather than thy virtues, be a famous teacher well-versed in the Veda and largely enjoy the worship of an ascetic from the people crowding together to see him!'
The friend spoke:
17. 'May he who could not subdue his greediness for thy lotus-stalks obtain from the part of the king an excellent village endowed with the four plenties (abounding in population, corn, wood and water)[145], and may he die without having subdued his passions!'
The male-servant said:
18. 'May he be the head of a village, cheerfully living with his comrades, exhilarated by the dances and chants of women, and never meet with harm from the king's side, he who destroyed his own interest for the sake of those lotus-stalks!'
The sister said:
19. 'May that person[146] who ventured to take the lotus-stalks of such a being as you, be a woman of resplendent beauty and figure, may a king make her his wife and put her at the head of his zenana of a thousand females!'
The maid-servant said:
20. 'May she much delight in eating sweetmeats alone stealthily, disregarding the pious, and be greatly rejoiced when she gets a dainty dish, she who set her heart on thy lotus-stalks, not on thy righteousness!'
Now three inhabitants of the forest had also come to that place to hear the preaching of the Law, namely a Yaksha, an elephant, and a monkey. They had heard the conversation and were overcome with the utmost shame and confusion. Among them, the Yaksha attested his innocence, uttering in their presence this solemn protestation:
21. 'May he who failed against thee for the sake of the lotus-stalks, have his residence in the Great Monastery, entrusted with the charge of the reparations in (the town of) Kakaṅgalâ, and make one window every day![147]'
The elephant spoke:
22. 'May he come into captivity from the lovely forest into the company of men, fettered with six hundred solid chains[148], and suffer pain from the sharp goads of his driver, he who took thy lotus-stalks, O most excellent of Munis!'
The monkey said:
23. 'May he who moved by greediness took thy lotus-stalks wear a flower-garland and a tin collar rubbing his neck, and beaten with a stick pass before the face of a serpent[149], and with a long wreath hanging from his shoulder, live in the houses (of men)!'
In reply, the Bodhisattva addressed all of them with words both persuasive and kind, indicating how deep-rooted was his dispassionateness.
24. 'May he who falsely said "they have disappeared," though he had them, obtain to his heart's desire worldly pleasures and die a householder. May the same be the fate of him who suspects you of a similar action!'
Those extraordinary protestations of them, indicative of their abhorrence of the enjoyment of worldly pleasures, roused the astonishment and respect of Sakra, the Lord of the Devas. He made himself visible in his own brilliant shape, and drawing near to those Rishis, said as if with resentment: 'You ought not to speak so.
25. 'Those enjoyments—to obtain which everybody who longs for happiness strives after to such a degree as to banish sleep from his eyes and to undertake any form of penance and toil—you censure, calling them "worldly pleasures!" Why do you judge so?'
The Bodhisattva spoke: 'Sensual enjoyments are accompanied by endless sins, sir. Why, hear then, I will tell thee concisely, what the Munis have in view that makes them blame sensual enjoyments.
26. 'On account of them, men incur captivity and death, grief, fatigue, danger, in short manifold sufferings. For the sake of them, kings are eager to oppress righteousness, and consequently fall into hell after death.
27. 'When the ties of friendship are suddenly loosened, when men enter the road of political wisdom, that unclean path of falseness, when they lose their good reputation and hereafter come to meet with sufferings—is it not sensual enjoyments that are the cause thereof?
28. 'Now, since worldly pleasures in this manner tend to the destruction of all conditions of men, the highest, the middle and the lowest, both in this world and in the next, the Munis, O Sakra, who long only for the Self, keep aloof from them, as they would from angry serpents.'
Then Sakra, the Lord of the Devas, approved his words, saying, 'Well spoken,' and as he was propitiated by the greatness of mind of those Rishis, he confessed that he himself had committed the theft.
29, 30. 'A high opinion of virtue may be tested by trial. Thus considering, I hid the lotus-stalks in order to try you. And now, how fortunate is the world in that it possesses such Munis as you, whose glory is tested by fact. And thou, here, take these lotus-stalks, as a proof of a constant holy behaviour.'
With these words he handed the stalks over to the Bodhisattva. But the Bodhisattva reproved his unbecoming and audacious way of proceeding in terms though modest, yet expressive of noble self-esteem.
31. 'We are no kinsfolk of thine, nor thy comrades, nor are we thy actors or buffoons. What, then, is the reason for thy coming here, Lord of the Devas, to play with Rishis in this manner?'
At these words Sakra, the Lord of the Devas, hastily divested himself of his divine appearance, brilliant with his ear-rings, his head-ornament, and his lightning, and respectfully bowing to the Bodhisattva, spoke thus in order to appease him:
32. 'O thou who art free from all selfishness, deign to forgive me the thoughtless deed I did with the aforesaid purpose; pardon it like a father, like a teacher!
33. 'It is proper, indeed, to those whose eyes are not yet opened to wisdom, to offend against others, be they even their equals. Likewise it is proper to (the wise) who know the Self, to pardon such offences. Also for this reason, pray do not feel anger in thy heart concerning that deed!'
Having thus appeased him, Sakra disappeared on the spot.
In this manner, then, those who have learnt to appreciate the happiness of detachment are hostile to worldly pleasures; they will oppose them like one opposes a deception, an injury[150].
(Cp. Pâli Gâtaka, No. 171, Fausb. II, 64, 65.)
An unfounded opinion of their possession of some virtue acts upon the virtuous like a stirring spur. Considering thus, one ought to strive after the realisation of virtues; as will be taught in the following.
One time the Bodhisattva is said to have been a king's treasurer, illustrious for his learning, his noble family and his modest behaviour. He had lofty aspirations and a clever intellect, loved honest practices in business, and owing to his thorough study of many branches of science, attracted notice by his elegance of speech. Compassionate as he was and in the possession of a large estate, he made the bliss of his wealth flow in all directions by his great gifts of charity. So he was considered the jewel of householders.
1. As he was by his nature fond of righteousness, and was adorned by (acquired) qualities, sacred learning and the like, people were wont to look upon him as worthy of veneration above all others.
One day, when that Great Being had gone out for some business to the king's palace, his mother-in-law came to his house to see her daughter. After the usual welcome and inquiries as to health, there ensued a conversation, in the course of which, being alone with her daughter, the wife of the Bodhisattva, she turned to put questions to her such as these: 'Your husband does not disregard you, my dear, I hope? And does he know how to show you attention? He does not grieve you by misconduct, I hope?' And she answered with downcast looks bashfully in a soft tone: 'Virtuous conduct and behaviour such as his are hardly to be met with even in a mendicant who has renounced the world.' But her mother, whose hearing and understanding were impaired by old age, did not well catch the meaning of these words of her daughter, as they were spoken with shame in a rather low voice, and having heard the mention of a mendicant who had renounced the world, drew the inference that her son-in-law had become a religious mendicant. She burst into tears, and overpowered by the violence of her grief, indulged in lamenting and bewailing her daughter. 'What virtuous behaviour and conduct is shown by him who leaves the world in this manner, abandoning his affectionate family? And what has he to do with world-renunciation, after all?
2. 'What is the reason that such a person as he is, young, handsome, delicate, accustomed to a life of comfort, a favourite with the king, should feel a vocation for the forest-life?
3. 'How did it come to pass that without experiencing any wrong from the side of his family and before the deformity of old age had come, he left suddenly and without pain his home abounding in wealth?
4. 'He, adorned by a decent behaviour, by wisdom and love of righteousness, he, full of compassion for others—how is it that he could come to such a reckless deed without mercy for his own family?
5. 'As he was in the habit of honouring Sramanas and Brâhmans, friends and clients, his own family and (that larger family of) the distressed, and as he considered a spotless conduct his (highest) wealth, say, could he not attain in the world that which he seeks in the forest?
6. 'Abandoning his chaste and devoted wife, the companion of his religious duties, how is it that he does not perceive that by excessive love of the Law he is here transgressing the path of the Law?
7. 'Alas! It is a pity! Fie upon the bad management of Destiny, that men can leave their beloved relations without being withheld by Compassion, or that they can be successful even in the slightest part of the holiness they pursue!'
When the Bodhisattva's wife heard those piteous and sincere lamentations of her mother on account of her husband having renounced the world, she grew alarmed (being impressionable) after the nature of women. Her disturbed countenance expressed the dejection of her mind shaken by the sudden assault of sorrow and pain. She wholly forgot the subject and the connection of the conversation, and reflected: 'My husband has forsaken the world, and my mother on hearing the sad news has come here in order to comfort me.' Having thus made up her mind, the young, girlish woman began to lament and to weep, and with a loud cry swooned away. The other members of the family and the attendants, hearing the matter, became utterly distressed, and burst into lamentations. On hearing that noise, neighbours, friends, kinsmen, and other relations, clients, chiefs of Brâhmanical families, in short, the bulk of the citizens, as they were much attached to the treasurer, gathered round his house.
8. As a rule, he had always shared the good and the ill fortune of the people. In consequence thereof the people, as if they had learnt this behaviour from him, showed him the like sympathy in both fortunes.
Now, when the Bodhisattva on his return from the king's residence approached his dwelling-place, he heard the lamentations resounding from his house, and saw the large multitude there assembled. He ordered his attendant to go and learn what was the matter, who having got that information came back and reported it to him.
9. 'It has been rumoured, I do not know in what way, that Your Honour has given up her wealthy home to become a mendicant. This news has induced this large body of people to crowd here out of affection.'
Upon hearing these words, the Great Being felt something like shame. His heart of innate pureness was alarmed by what appeared to him like a reproof. And he entered upon this reflection: 'Oh! how much am I honoured by this opinion of the people!
10. 'If after obtaining this high opinion of my virtues from the part of the citizens, I should cling to the home-life henceforward, should I not be a coward?
11. 'I should make myself reputed as one attached to vice, ill-behaving and a despiser of virtues; and would consequently lose the esteem I now enjoy from the virtuous. So living, life would be insupportable to me.
12. 'For this reason, in return for the honour conferred upon me by public opinion, I will honour them again by realising it, and affected with a pious love of the forest-groves, detach myself from my home with its vice-producing evil passions.'
Having thus considered, the Great Being forthwith turned back, and caused himself to be announced to the king: 'The treasurer wants to see Your Majesty once more.' After being admitted to the king's presence, and after the usual salutations, being asked by the king the reason of his return, he said: 'I desire to renounce the world, and beg you to grant me your permission, Your Majesty.'
On hearing this, the king was troubled and alarmed, and said these affectionate words:
13. 'What ails you that, while I am living who love you more than your friends and kinsmen, you should want to withdraw to the forest, as if I were unable to relieve you from that pain either by my wealth or my policy or my great power?
14. 'Are you in want of money: take it from my side. Is it some grief that makes you suffer: I will cure it. Or is it for any other purpose that you desire to withdraw to the forest, leaving your relations and me, who entreat you in this manner?'
To these affectionate and honorific words of the monarch he answered in a tone of friendly persuasiveness:
15. 'From whence can there arise grief to those whom your arm protects, or sadness caused by want of wealth? It is, therefore, not sorrow that induces me to withdraw to the forest, but another reason. Hear what it is.
16. 'The report is current, Your Majesty, that I have taken the vows of a religious mendicant. A crowd of people mourn for it, and weep for sorrow. It is for this reason that I want to live in the solitude of the forests, since I have been judged a person capable of conceiving this virtuous purpose.'
The king replied: 'Your Honour ought not to leave us on account of a mere rumour. The worth of persons like you does not depend on public opinion, nor do they acquire their illustrious virtues nor lose them conformably to idle gossip.
17. 'Rumour is the result of unrestrained imagination. Once abroad, it runs about free and unchecked. Ridiculous is he who in earnest minds such gossip, more ridiculous is he who acts up to it!'
The Bodhisattva said: 'No, no, Your Majesty; do not speak so! A high opinion of men must be acted up to. Will Your Majesty deign to consider this.
18. 'When a man becomes famous for holiness, Your Majesty, that person ought not to remain behind his reputation, if in fact he is pious, but, to say nothing more, his very shame must induce him to take upon himself the burden of that virtue.
19. 'For, if he is seen in any way acting in accordance with that high opinion of his virtue, the renown of his glory will shine the more, whereas he will be like a dried-up well in the opposite case.
20. 'By a false reputation of virtue, which will spread up to the time when subdued by further knowledge it will disappear, the good renown of men is utterly destroyed. Once destroyed, it is hardly able to shoot forth anew.
21. 'Thus considering, I am about to abandon my family and property, since those goods are the root of strife and trouble, and worth avoiding like black-hooded snakes with wrath-raised heads. It does not become you, Your Majesty, to oppose my determination.
22. '(Do not supply me with money.) You are accustomed to show your attachment and gratitude to your loyal servants, as becomes you, I know; yet what to a homeless mendicant would be the use of money, which of necessity involves worldly goods and passions?'