So speaking the Great Being persuaded the king to give him his permission. After which he immediately set out for the forest.
But his friends, relations, and clients met him, and shedding tears and embracing his feet, tried to prevent him. Some obstructed his way, placing themselves before him with respectfully folded hands. Some again endeavoured to lead him in the direction of his house (with soft violence), by embraces and similar persuasive practices. Others again were prompted by their affection to address him in somewhat harsh terms, expressing their blame in some way or other. Some also tried to persuade him that he ought to have regard to his friends and family, for whom he should feel compassion. Others, too, directed their efforts to convince him by argument, combining sacred texts with deductions of reasoning, to the effect that the state of a householder must be the holiest one. There were others again who exerted themselves in different ways to make him give up his design; partly dwelling on the hardships of the life in a penance-grove, partly urging him to fulfil his obligations and duties in the world to the end, partly expressing their doubt as to the existence of anything like reward in the other world. Now when he looked on his friends thus opposing his world-renunciation and earnestly endeavouring to hinder his departure for the forest with faces wet with tears, surely, this thought arose in his mind:
23. 'If a person acts inconsiderately, it is the duty of those who claim to be his friends to care for the good of their friend, be it even in a rough manner. Such, indeed, is acknowledged to be the righteous way of proceeding among the pious. How much the more, if the good they advise be at the same time something pleasant.
24. 'But as to them, how is it possible that preferring the home-life and boldly deterring me from the forest-life as from the contact of some evil, they should express the judgment of a sound mind?
25. 'A dead man or one in danger of death is a person to be wept for, likewise one fallen from righteousness. But what may be the meaning of this weeping for me who am alive but desirous of living in the forest?
26. 'Suppose the separation from me should be the cause of their sorrow, why will they not dwell in the forest with me? If however they prefer their homes to me, why are they prodigal of their tears?
27. 'But granted that attachment to their family prevents them from adopting the state of an ascetic, how is it that the like consideration did not formerly present itself to them on so many battle-fields?
28. 'I have often experienced the heroism of their sincere friendship in adversity, and now behold that deep-rooted friendship, as it were, embodied in their tears. Yet, notwithstanding this, it will seem mere guile to me, since they do not follow my example.
29, 30. 'As surely as it is great regard for their friend deserving regard, that makes their eyes full of tears, their heads reverentially bent, their words interrupted with sobs, while they are exerting themselves to hinder my departure, so surely ought their love to have the effect of bringing them to the praiseworthy resolution to go and wander about with me, lest they should appear like actors in a theatrical performance, to the shame of the pious!
31. 'If anybody be in distress, be he ever so wicked a person, some two or three friends will keep with him, at least; but for a man, however excellent by virtue, it will be oh! so hard, to get one single comrade, when setting out for the forest!
32. 'Those who in battles, when danger was imminent from furious elephants, used to set an example (of fearlessness) to me, even they do not follow me now, when I lead them to the forest. Verily am I, are they, the same as we were before?
33. 'I do not recollect having done them any wrong that could cause the ruin of their attachment... So this behaviour of my friends may, perhaps, issue from the care for what they consider my happiness.
34. 'Or is it rather my lack of virtues that hinders them from being my companions in the forest? For who may possess the power of loosening hearts that have been won by virtue?
35. 'But why indulge in idle reflections about these persons? Of a truth, since they are unable to perceive the evils, however obvious, inherent in the home-life, nor the virtues to be found in the penance-groves, the eye of knowledge is shut to them!
36. 'They are not capable of parting with worldly pleasures, the cause of suffering both in this world and in the next, but forsake both the penance-grove which frees from those sufferings, and me! Fie upon their infatuation!
37. 'O, those very sins by the delusions of which these friends of mine and the whole of the creatures are prevented from tranquillity, I will crush down forcibly whenever I shall have obtained by residence in the penance-forest the excellent power of doing so!'
Of such a kind were his reflections. And after thus making up his mind, he put aside the manifold affectionate entreaties of his friends, made plain to them his firm resolution in kind and gentle terms, and set out for the penance-forest.
In this manner, then, an unfounded opinion of their possession of some virtue acts upon the virtuous in the same way as a stirring spur. Thus considering, one ought to strive after the realisation of virtues. [For this reason a pious man, being esteemed for his virtues as a monk or as a lay-devotee, must strive to be in fact adorned with the virtues fit for that state. Further, this story may be adduced with the object of showing the difficulty of finding companions for a religious life.]
(Cp. the Pâli Gâtaka, No. 443, Fausb. IV, 22-27; Kariyâpitaka II, 4.)
By keeping down his anger a man appeases his enemies, but doing otherwise he will inflame them. This will be taught as follows.
One time the Bodhisattva, that Great Being, was born in this world in a certain noble Brâhmanical family, it is said, who enjoyed great renown for their practise of virtues in a grand style, owned a large and well-secured estate, were honoured by the king and favoured by the gods. In course of time he grew up, and having duly received the sacraments, as he exerted himself to excel in the virtue of learning, within a short time he became renowned in the assemblies of the learned.
1. The fame of the learned unfolds itself in the assemblies of the learned, in the same way as jewels get their reputation with jewellers, as heroes are known on the battle-field.
Now when the Great-minded One, according to his constant observance of the Law in previous existences and to the enlightenment of his mind by wisdom, had familiarised himself with world-renunciation, his house no longer pleased him. He understood that worldly pleasures are the abode of many evils and sins, since they are attended by a great deal of discomfort in consequence of strife, quarrel, infatuation, and subject to (losses of wealth either from the side of) the king, or (because of) water, or fire, or thieves, or unfriendly kinsmen; so he was convinced that they can never yield satisfaction. Accordingly, shunning them like poisonous food and longing for the Self, he parted with his fair hair and beard, resigned the delusive brilliancy of a householder's dress, and putting on the vile orange-coloured robes, embraced that glorious state of the ascetic life disciplined by rules and restrained by vows. His wife, who loved him much, likewise cut off her hair, and forsook the care of apparelling her body and beautifying it with ornaments. Then, only adorned by the natural beauty of her form and virtues, she covered her limbs with the orange-coloured robes, and followed her husband.
Now, when the Bodhisattva understood her determination of going with him to the penance-forest, knowing that the delicate constitution of a woman is unfit for the ascetic life, he spoke to her: 'My dear, truly, you have now shown me your sincere affection. Yet this be sufficient. Do not persist in your determination of being my companion in the forest. It would rather be suitable for you to take up your abode in such a place, where other women dwell who have forsaken the world; with them you should live. It is a hard thing to pass the night in forest-dwellings. Look here.
2. 'Cemeteries, desert houses, mountains, forests infested by ferocious animals, are the resting-places of the homeless ascetics; they take their rest in whatsoever place they are when the sun sets.
3. 'Being intent on meditation, they always like to walk alone, and are averse even to the sight of a woman. Therefore, make up your mind to desist from your purpose. What profit may you have from that wandering life?'
But she who had firmly resolved upon accompanying him, answered him something like this, while her eyes grew dim with tears:
4, 5. 'If I should suppose my going with you a matter of weariness rather than of joy, do you think I should desire a thing which causes suffering to myself and displeasure to you? But it is because I cannot bear to live without you, that you must pardon this lack of obedience to your orders.'
And though he repeated his entreaties, she never would turn back. Then the Bodhisattva gave up his opposition, and silently suffered her companionship. As the female kakravâka goes after her mate, so she went along with him in his wanderings through villages and towns and markets.
One day after meal-time he performed the usual rite of profound meditation (dhyâna) in a lonely part of some forest. It was a splendid landscape, adorned with many groves of trees affording much shade, and waited on, as it were, by the sunbeams peeping here and there through the thick foliage with the softness of the moonlight; the dust of various flowers overspread the ground; in short, it was a fair spot. In the afternoon he rose from his profound meditation, and sewed rags together to make clothes[152]. And at no great distance from him, she, the companion of his homeless life, embellishing by the splendour of her beauty the trunk of a tree in whose shade she was seated like a deity, was meditating on such subject and in such manner as he had enjoined her. It was the season of spring, when gardens and groves are at their loveliest. On all sides young and tender shoots abounded; the soft humming of crowds of bees roaming about was heard, as well as the cries of joy uttered by the lascivious cuckoos; the lakes and ponds, adorned with laughing lotuses and waterlilies, were an attraction for the eyes; there blew soft winds scented with the odours and perfumes of manifold blossoms. To enjoy that magnificence of spring, the king of that country made a tour in the groves, and came to that very spot.
6, 7. It does, indeed, afford gladness to the mind to behold forest-regions at spring-time, when their various blossoms and flower-clusters make them bright, as if that season enveloped them with its pomp, when the he-cuckoo and the peacock sing, the drunken bees make their buzzing sound, when soft and fresh grass-plots cover the earth and lotuses fill up the water-basins. Then the groves are the play-grounds of the Love-god.
On seeing the Bodhisattva, the king respectfully drew near to him, and after the usual ceremonial greetings and complimentary words, sat down apart. Then, on perceiving the female ascetic, that very lovely apparition, the beauty of her figure perturbed his heart, and though understanding that she must certainly be the companion of his religious duties, owing to the lasciviousness of his nature, he reflected on some contrivance to carry her away.
8. But having heard of the transcendent power of the ascetics, that the fire of their wrath can shoot a curse as its flame, he refrained from a rash deed of contempt against him, even though the Love-god had destroyed the moral checks (that might have restrained him).
Then this thought entered his mind: 'Let me examine the extent of his penance-obtained power. Then I shall be able to act in a proper manner, not otherwise. If his mind is ruled by passionate affection for her, surely, he has no power gained by penance. But if he were to prove dispassionate or to show little interest in her, then he may be supposed to possess that sublime power.' Having thus considered, the king, desirous of proving that penance-power, spoke to the Bodhisattva, as if he wished his good. 'Say, ascetic, this world abounds in rogues and bold adventurers. Why, it is not fit for Your Reverence to have with you such a handsome person as this companion of your religious duties in remote forests, where you are destitute of protection. If she were to be injured by somebody, certainly people would censure me, too. Look here.
9, 10. 'Suppose, while living in these lonely regions, some man disregarding both you, a penance-exhausted ascetic, and Righteousness, were to carry her off by force, what else could you do in that case but wail on her account? Indulging in anger, forsooth, agitates the mind and destroys the glory of a religious life, since it tends to the detriment of it. It is, therefore, best to let her live in an inhabited place. Of what use, after all, is female company to ascetics?'
The Bodhisattva said: 'Your Majesty has spoken truth. Yet hear to what I would resort in such circumstances.
11.
Then the king thought: 'He takes a great interest in her, he does not possess penance-power,' and despising the Great Being, was no longer afraid of injuring him. Obeying his passion, he ordered his attendants who were in charge of his zenana: 'Go and fetch this female ascetic into my zenana.'On hearing this order, she, like a deer assailed by a ferocious animal, showed her fear, alarm, and dismay by her (changed) countenance, her eyes filled with tears, and overpowered by her grief, she lamented in a faltering voice somewhat in this manner:
12. 'To mankind, overcome by sufferings, the king is the best refuge, it is said, like a father. But whose help can be implored by him, to whom the king himself acts as an evildoer?
13. 'Alas! The guardians of the world-quarters (lokapâlâs) have been dismissed from their office, or they do not exist at all, or they are dead, since they make no effort to protect the oppressed. Dharma himself is but a mere sound, I suppose.
14. 'But why do I reproach the Celestials, while my lord himself is thus keeping silence, undisturbed by my fate? Are you not bound to protect even a stranger who is ill-treated by wicked people?
15. 'By the thunderbolt of his curse he might change a mountain into dust, if he were to pronounce the word "perish," and still, he does not break silence, whilst his wife is thus injured! And I must live to see this, wretched woman that I am!
16. 'Or am I a bad person, scarcely deserving pity after coming into this distress? But ascetics ought to behave with compassion towards any one in distress. Is not this their proper line of conduct?
17. 'I am afraid you bear in mind even now my refusal to leave you, when you ordered me to turn back. Alas! Is then this catastrophe the happiness I longed for through the fulfilment of my own wish though contrary to yours?'
While she thus lamented—and what else could she do, that female ascetic, but cry and wail and weep in piteous accents?—the royal attendants, obeying the orders of the king, placed her on a chariot, and before the very eyes of the Great Being carried her off to the zenana. The Bodhisattva, however, had repressed his powerful anger by the power of his tranquillity, and was sewing his rags just as before without the slightest perturbation, as calm and serene as ever. To him the king spoke:
18. 'Threatening words of indignation and anger you uttered in a loud and strength-betraying voice, but now, on seeing that beauty ravished before your eyes, you keep quiet and are cast down because you have no power.
19. 'Why, show your wrath, either by the strength of your arm or by the splendid power you have accumulated as the result of your penance. He who, not knowing the compass of his own faculties, takes an engagement he cannot keep, such a one loses his splendour, you know.'
The Bodhisattva replied: 'Know that I did keep my engagement, Your Majesty.
20.
That excessive firmness of mind of the Bodhisattva, proved by his tranquillity, did not fail to inspire the king with respect for the virtues of the ascetic. And he began to reflect: 'This Brâhman must have hinted at something else, speaking thus, and I, not understanding his mind, committed a rash action.' This reflection arising within him, induced him to ask the Bodhisattva:
21. 'Who was that other who acted against you and was not released by you, however much he struggled, no more than rising dust is by a rain-cloud? Whom did you quiet then?'
The Bodhisattva answered: 'Hearken, great prince.
22. 'He, whose forthcoming robs the insight and without whose appearance a man sees clearly, rose within me, but I repressed him; Anger is the name of that being, disastrous to his fosterer.
23. 'He, at whose appearance the foes of mankind rejoice, rose within me, but I repressed him, that Anger who would have caused gladness to my enemies.
24. 'Him who, when bursting forth, induces man to nothing good and blinds the eye of the mind, him I did subdue, O king; Anger is his name.
25. 'Yea, I have destroyed that hideous-looking ferocious monster rising up within me, that anger, which becomes to him whom it has subdued the cause of leaving his good and losing even the profit obtained before.
26. 'As fire, by the process of attrition, arises from a piece of wood to the destruction of that very log, in the same way wrath, breaking out by the false conceptions it produces in the mind of a man, tends to his ruin.
27. 'He who is not able to appease the heart-burning fever of anger, when fire-like it bursts forth with fierceness, such a man is little esteemed; his reputation fades away, just as moonshine, that friend of the waterlilies, fades in the blush of dawn.
28. 'But he who, not heeding insults from the side of other people, considers anger as his real enemy, the reputation of such a man shines with brightness, like the auspicious lustre which streams down the disc of the crescent.
'Further, anger is also attended by other noxious qualities of importance.
29. 'An angry man, though resplendent with ornaments, looks ugly; the fire of wrath has taken away the splendour of his beauty. And lying on a precious couch, he does not rest at his ease, his heart being wounded by the arrow of anger.
30. 'Bewildered by wrath, a man forgets to keep the side by which to reach the happiness suitable for himself, and runs off on the wrong road, so that he forfeits the happiness consisting in a good reputation, as the moon is deprived of its lustre in the dark part of its menstrual course.
31. 'By wrath he throws himself headlong into his ruin, in spite of the efforts of his friends to restrain him. As a rule he gets into a stupid rage of hatred, and the power of his mind being impaired, he is unable to distinguish between what is good for him and what is bad.
32. 'Carried away by his anger, he will commit sinful actions to be repented of with many misfortunes for centuries. Can enemies, whose wrath has been provoked by severe injuries, do anything worse?
33. 'Anger is our adversary within us, this I know. Who may bear the free course of its insolence?
34. 'For this reason I did not release that anger, although it was struggling within me. Who, indeed, may suffer himself to overlook an enemy able to do such mischief?'
These heart-moving words and the marvellous forbearance he had proved by them to possess, softened and converted the mind of that king who spoke:
35. 'Worthy, indeed, of your tranquillity of mind are these words you have spoken!... But, why use many words? I was deceived because I did not understand you.'
After thus praising the Bodhisattva, he went near to him and throwing himself at his feet, confessed his sin. And he dismissed also that female ascetic, after obtaining her pardon, and offered himself to the disposal of the Bodhisattva as his attendant.
In this manner a man by keeping down his anger appeases his enemies, but doing otherwise he will inflame them. Thus considering, one ought to strive after the suppression of anger. [This story is also to be told in connection with such sayings as praise the precept of forbearance, viz. 'in this manner unfriendly feelings are set at rest by friendliness, and by self-restraint hatred is not allowed to grow,' and 'in this manner he who banishes anger acts to the benefit of both.' Likewise when expounding the sinfulness of anger, and treating of the high-mindedness of the Tathâgata.]
(Comp. Pâli Gâtaka, No. 533, Fausb. V, 337-354.)
The virtuous, even when in distress, behave in such a manner as cannot be imitated by the impious; how much less are the latter able to follow up the conduct of the virtuous, when favoured by fortune! This will be taught as follows.
One time, it is told, the Bodhisattva was a king of swans. He was the chief of a large tribe of swans, numbering many hundred thousands, who lived in Lake Mânasa. His name was Dhritarâshtra. The commander of his army, who was called Sumukha[153], was skilled in the management of affairs, knowing the right and the wrong policy very well; his keen intellect encompassed the objects and events over a large extent of space and time; born of an illustrious family, he embellished the nobility of his extraction by his talent, his courtesy, his modesty; he was endowed with the virtues of constancy, honesty, courage, and distinguished by the purity of his conduct, mode of life, and behaviour; moreover he was capable of enduring fatigue, vigilant and clever in military marches as well as in battles, and bore a great affection to his master. In consequence of their mutual love the grandeur of their qualities shone the more; and as they were in the habit of instructing that flock of swans, as a teacher and his foremost disciple would instruct all his other pupils, or a father with his eldest son his other sons, inculcating upon their mind a peaceable behaviour towards others, and such other matters as lead to the benefit of the creatures, they offered a spectacle for the great admiration of the Devas, Snakes, Yakshas, Vidyâdharas, and holy ascetics who witnessed them.
1. As of a bird in the sky both wings are incessantly occupied in holding up his body, so these two knew no other business than that of supporting the body of Salvation for their flock of swans.
Now that tribe of swans, being thus favoured by them, attained a state of great plenty, in the same way as mankind by the extension of righteousness and material prosperity. Consequently that lake bore the utmost beauty.
2, 3. Adorned by that tribe of swans, who by their sound would call to mind the soft and lovely noise of the anklets of women, that lake was splendid. When in a mass, the swans resembled a moving grove of lotuses. When dispersed or divided into separate groups of unequal size, they made the lake surpass even the beauty of a sky embellished with scattered banks of clouds.
Enchanted with that exceeding splendour, which was the effect of the virtue of that lord of swans intent on the good of all creatures, and of Sumukha, his commander-in-chief, crowds of Siddhas, Rishis, Vidyâdharas, and deities often and in many places delighted in conversing on the glory of those two.
4. 'Their magnificent figures resemble pure gold, their voices utter articulate speech, righteousness is the rule of their modest behaviour and their policy. Whosoever they may be, they bear but the shape of swans.'
5. The fame of those two, spreading through the world by the report of those superhuman beings who, free from jealousy, celebrated their virtues, found a general belief to such an extent, that it became a topic of conversation in the councils of kings, where the account of their glory circulated like a present.
Now in that time one Brahmadatta[154] was king in Benares. Having often heard in his council his trustworthy officials and the foremost among the Brâhmans highly extol the extraordinary qualities of that lord of swans and of his commander-in-chief, he became more and more affected with curiosity to see them. So he said to his ministers, who were very clever, having studied many branches of science: 'Well, sirs, set to work the cleverness of your minds, and try to devise some means by which I might obtain at least the sight of those two excellent swans.' Then those wise ministers let their thoughts range over the road of political wisdom, and (having discovered by thinking the means wanted) said to the king:
6. 'The prospect of happiness allures the creatures to withdraw from any place, Your Majesty. For this reason the rumour of the existence of some extremely good qualities conducive to their happiness may bring them hither.
'Therefore, let Your Majesty deign to order a beautiful lake, of the same kind as that where those lovely-shaped swans are reported to live, but still surpassing it in brilliancy, to be constructed here in one of your forests; which being done, you must make known by proclamation, to be repeated every day, that you grant safety to all birds. Perhaps the rumour of the surpassing excellence of this lake, conducive to their happiness, may excite their curiosity and draw them hither. Do but consider, Your Majesty.
7. 'As a rule happiness once obtained loses its charm, and ceases to be taken into account; but such happiness as rests upon hearsay seems lovely, and fascinates the mind, because it is remote from the eyes.'
The king accepted their proposal, and had a great lake, which by the splendour of its magnificence rivalled with Lake Mânasa, constructed in a short time in a place not too near the park which skirted his capital. It was a most charming basin of pure water, and very rich in water-plants, embracing various kinds of lotuses and waterlilies: padma, utpala, kumuda, pundarîka, saugandhika, tâmarasa, kahlâra.
8. Flowery trees, bright with their quivering twigs, surrounded its shore, as if they had taken possession of that place in order to contemplate that lake.
9. Swarms of bees, as if attracted by its laughing lotuses, which were rocking on its gently trembling waves, roamed hovering over its surface.
10, 11. Here its beauty was enhanced by its various waterlilies, sleepless through the gentle touch of the moonbeams, which made them resemble patches of moonshine piercing through the foliage. There the pollen of lotuses and waterlilies, conveyed by the finger-like waves, would ornament its shore as if with gold wires.
12. In many other places, where it was covered with the lovely petals and filaments of lotuses and waterlilies, it showed a wide-spread splendour, as if it bore a gift of homage.
13. Another beauty was due to the limpidity and calmness of its water, which was so transparent as to show the sharp contours and the fair hues of its crowds of fishes, no less conspicuous while swimming beneath its surface than they would have been, if moving in the sky.
14. Near such places, where the elephants, dipping their trunks in it, blew forth cascades of spray glittering like a string of loosened pearls, it seemed as if the lake carried waves ground to dust after being driven upon rocks and scattered in the air.
15. Here and there it was perfumed, so to speak, with the fragrances emanating from the ointments used by bathing Vidyâdhara women, from the streams of juice of elephants in rut and from the dust of its (own) flowers.
16. Being so brilliant, that lake was like a general mirror for the stars, the wives of the Moon-god. Gay birds abounded, and their warbling resounded in it.
Such, then, was the lake he had ordered to be constructed, and which he gave to the whole nation of birds to have the unobstructed use and enjoyment of it. Accordingly, in order to inspire all birds with confidence, he ordered a proclamation, by which he granted them security, to be repeated day after day. It ran in these terms:
17. 'The king is glad to give this lake, inclusive of the groups of lotuses and waterlilies covering its waters, to the birds, and grants safety to them.'
One time, when autumn having drawn away the dark curtain of clouds, dispensed its beautiful gifts, enlarging the horizon clear and pure, the lakes were lovely to behold, with their limpid water and with the full brilliancy of their clusters of lotuses disclosed. It was the season when the Moon, with increased power of rays, as it were, reaches the highest pitch of loveliness and youthfulness, when Earth, adorned with the harvest-bliss of manifold crops, offers a fair aspect, and when the younger among the swans begin to show themselves. Now, a couple of swans, who belonged to that very tribe of the Bodhisattva, flew up from Lake Mânasa, and passing over different regions overspread with autumn's mildness, at last came to the realm of that king. And there they saw that lake and the wonderful beauty caused by its flowers; for its lotuses, when expanded, made it glow as with flames, and its waterlilies, when unclosed, gave it a laughing aspect. They heard the echoes of the confused sounds of crowds of birds and the humming of the bees who were busily roaming over its flowers. They smelt the scent of the dust of its lotuses and waterlilies scattered about by the gentle, cool, and soft breezes, which seemed to have the task of gliding over the wreaths of its waves. Though accustomed to Lake Mânasa, those two swans were touched by the surpassing loveliness and splendour of that other lake; and this thought entered their mind: 'Oh! our whole tribe must come here!'
18. Generally people, obtaining some pleasure within the reach of everybody, will in the first place remember their friends, owing to the suggestion of their love.
That couple remained there, diverting themselves as they best liked, till the next rainy season. At the commencement of that period, when masses of clouds like hosts of the Daityas advance causing darkness, yet not too thick and interrupted by flashes of lightning glittering like brandished weapons; when the gay troops of peacocks perform their dances and display the beauty of their wide-opened feather-tails, while uttering their loud and continual cries, as if they exulted at the triumph of the clouds, and also the smaller birds have become loquacious; when brisk winds blow, fragrant with the flower-dust of forest trees: the sâl, the kadamba, the arguna, and the ketaka, and produce a welcome coolness, as if they were the breath of the forest; when flocks of young cranes, showing themselves in the sky, contrast with the dark background of the clouds, so as to resemble their rows of teeth, so to speak; when the tribes of swans are anxious to leave, and give vent to their longing by soft and gentle cries—on that opportunity our couple of swans returned to their Lake Mânasa. And paying their respects to their lord, they told him, first of the regions they had visited, then gave him an account of the surpassing advantages of that lake (whence they had just returned). 'Your Majesty, south of Mount Himavat,' they said, 'there lives at Benares a king of men, named Brahmadatta, who has delivered to the birds a large lake of marvellous beauty, possessing delights of indescribable loveliness. All birds may enjoy it at their free will and wish, and safety is warranted to them by a royal decree which is made known every day by proclamation. The birds divert themselves there as unrestrained and fearless as if they stayed in their homes. When the rains are over, Your Majesty ought to go there.' On hearing this, the whole tribe of swans were affected with a strong desire to see that lake. The Bodhisattva, then, fixing his eyes with an inquisitive expression upon the face of Sumukha, his commander-in-chief, said: 'What do you think about this?' Sumukha, after bowing his head, answered: 'I deem it unfit for Your Majesty to go there. Why? Those delights of charming loveliness are, after all, but a kind of allurement, and here we are in want of nothing. Generally speaking, the hearts of men are false, their tender compassion is deceitful, and under the guise of delusive sweet words and kind attentions they conceal a cruel and wicked nature. Will Your Highness deign to consider this.
19. 'Quadrupeds and birds are wont to express their true feelings by the import of their cries. But men are the only animals skilled in producing sound meaning the contrary of their intentions.
20. 'Their language, of course, is sweet, well-intentioned, and wholesome. Merchants also make expenses in the hope of obtaining gain.
21. 'Therefore, Your Majesty, it is unfit at any time to put confidence (in them) because of something as trifling (as their words). A line of conduct which is dangerous and wrong, cannot be but unsuccessful, even if followed in pursuit of some object.
'Should, however, the excursion to that lake be indispensable, it is not suitable for us to stay there for a long time, or to make up our minds to resolve to take up our residence there; we have only to go and, after enjoying its magnificent beauties, return shortly. Such is my advice.'
Now, as the tribe of swans, whose curiosity to see the Benares lake was ever increasing, did not cease to request the Bodhisattva again and again to set out for that place, once on a bright autumn night, adorned with the pure lustre of the moon, the asterisms, and the stars, he complied with their wishes. And, accompanied by Sumukha and a numerous crowd of swans, he set out in that direction, resembling the Moon-god with his attendant band of (white) autumn clouds.
22. As soon as they beheld the charming splendour of that lake, surprise mingled with gladness overwhelmed their minds. When they entered it, they added to it no less brilliancy by their gay shapes and the lovely groups they formed, taking possession of it.
23. Owing to the manifold varieties of its sites, by which it surpassed Lake Mânasa, they were delighted, and in time their attachment to the new place of abode effaced Mânasa from their hearts.
They heard the proclamation of safety, perceived the freedom of movement of the birds residing there, and were gladdened by the display of the beauty of the lake. Their delight rose to the highest degree when they wandered over its waters, enjoying the pleasure of one who makes an excursion in a park.
Now the guardians of that lake reported the arrival of those swans to the king, saying: 'Your Majesty, two excellent swans, who bear the very same shape and are distinguished by the very same qualities as those famous ones are said to possess, have arrived at Your Majesty's lake, as if to enhance its beauty. Their beautiful wings shine like gold, their beaks and feet have a lustre which even surpasses that of gold, their size exceeds the average, and they have well-shaped bodies. A retinue of many hundred thousands of swans have come with them.' Having been thus informed, the king selected among his fowlers one who was renowned and recognised for his skill in the art of bird-catching, and committed to him the honourable charge of catching them. The fowler promised to do so, and having carefully watched the places which those two swans were in the habit of frequenting and haunting, laid down on different spots strong snares well concealed. Now, while the swans were wandering far and wide over the lake, with minds cheerful and rejoiced and without suspecting any mischief, trusting the grant of safety, their lord got one foot entangled in a snare.
24. Trustfulness, indeed, is pernicious. Aroused by the subtle contrivances of those who inspire confidence, it first obliterates the suspicion of danger, then displays carelessness and want of policy.
Then the Bodhisattva, lest a similar misfortune should befall also anybody else of his tribe, announced by a special cry the dangerousness of the lake. Upon which, the swans, alarmed at the capture of their lord, flew up to the sky, uttering confused and dissonant cries of fear, without regarding each other, like soldiers whose chief warrior has been killed. Yet Sumukha, the commander-in-chief, did not withdraw from the side of the lord of swans.
25. A heart bound by affection does not mind imminent peril. Worse than death to such a one is the sorrow which the miserable distress of a friend inflicts on it.
To him the Bodhisattva said:
26. 'Go, Sumukha, go; it is not wise to linger here. What opportunity couldst thou have of helping me who am in this state?'
Sumukha spoke:
27. 'No final death can I incur, if I stay here, nor shall I, if I go, be freed from old age and death. I always attended on thee in thy prosperity. How, master, should I be capable of leaving thee in thy calamity?
28. 'If I were to leave thee, prince of birds, on account of such a trifle as the thread of my own life, where could I find a shield against the rain-shower of blame?
29. 'It is not right, my liege, that I should leave thee in thy distress. Whatever fate may be thine, I am pleased with it, O lord of birds.'
The Bodhisattva spoke:
30. 'What other may be the fate of an insnared bird than the kitchen? How can that prospect please thee who art in the free possession of thy mind and thy limbs?
31, 32. 'Or what profit dost thou see for me or thyself or the whole of our kindred in the death of both of us? And what profit mayst thou explain to be in giving up thy life on an occurrence, when that profit is as little to be seen as level and unlevel in the dark?'
Sumukha spoke:
33, 34. 'How, most excellent of birds, dost thou not perceive the profit in following the path of Righteousness? Honouring the Law of Righteousness in the right manner[155] produces the highest profit. For this reason I, knowing the precepts of Righteousness and the profit arising therefrom, also moved by attachment to thee, my liege, do not cling to life.'
The Bodhisattva spoke:
35, 36. 'Verily, this is the law for the virtuous, that a friend, minding his duty, shall not abandon his friend in distress, even at the cost of his life. Now, thou didst observe the Law of Righteousness, thou didst show me thy devoted affection. Grant me then, I pray thee, this last request. Fly away, I give thee leave.
37. 'Moreover, the affair having taken this turn, it is thy task, wise-minded one, to fill up the gap caused to our friends by the loss of me.'
38. While they were thus conversing, vying with each other in mutual affection, lo, the Nishâda[156] appeared, rushing upon them like the God of Death.
As soon as they became aware of his approach, the two excellent birds became silent. Now, the Nishâda seeing that the tribe of swans had flown away, was persuaded 'certainly, some one of them has been caught;' and going round the different places, where he had laid down his snares, discovered those two foremost swans. He was surprised at their beauty, and thinking both of them to be insnared, shook the snares placed in their neighbourhood. But when he perceived that one was caught and the other, loose and free, was keeping him company, his astonishment increased, and drawing near to Sumukha, he spoke to him:
39, 40. 'This bird, being caught in a strong snare, loses his freedom of movement. For this reason he cannot mount to the sky, although I approach. But thou who art not fastened, who art free and strong and hast thy winged carriage at thy disposal, why dost thou not hastily fly up to the sky at my arrival?'
On hearing this, Sumukha addressed him with human language in a voice which distinctly articulated syllables and words, and by its sonorousness manifested the firmness of mind of the speaker, being employed to show his (virtuous) nature.
41, 42. 'How is it, thou askest me, that I, being able to go, do not go. Why, the cause thereof is this. This bird here suffers the misfortune of being insnared. Thou hast power over him, whose foot is entangled in this strong snare, but he has power over me by still stronger fetters, his virtues, by which he has fastened my heart.'
Upon this the Nishâda, affected with high admiration and almost in ecstasy[157], once more asked Sumukha.
43. 'Being afraid of me, the other swans left him and flew up to the sky. But thou dost not leave him. Say, what is this bird to thee?'
Sumukha spoke:
44. 'My king he is, my friend he is, whom I love no less than life, my benefactor he is, and he is in distress. On this account I may never desert him, not even in order to save my own life.'
And observing the feelings of growing tenderness and admiration which appeared in the Nishâda, he continued:
45. 'Oh! If this our conversation might lead to a happy end, my friend! If thou wert to obtain the glory of a virtuous action by setting us free now!'
The Nishâda spoke:
46. 'I do not wish thee harm, and it is not thee I have caught. Why then, go free and join thy relations who will be glad at the sight of thee!'
Sumukha spoke:
47, 48. 'If thou dost not wish my sorrow, then thou must grant my request. If thou art content with one, well, leave him and take me. Our bodies have an equal size and compass, and our age is the same, I tell thee. So, taking me as a ransom for him, thou wilt not lose thy profit.
49, 50. 'Why, sir, do consider it well. O that thou mayst be greedy to possess me! Thou mayst tie me first, and afterwards release the king of birds. Thus doing, thou wouldst enjoy the same amount of gain, thou wouldst have granted my request, thou wouldst also cause gladness to the tribe of swans and obtain their friendship, too.
51. 'Now then, gladden the host of swans by setting their lord at liberty, that they may see him again in his resplendent beauty in the clear sky, resembling the Moon released from the Lord of Daityas (Râhu).'
The Nishâda, though accustomed to a cruel trade and hard-hearted by practice, was much touched by these words of the bird uttered in a firm yet soft tone and imposing by their import. For they magnified the attachment to one's master without minding one's own life, and were a strong manifestation of the virtue of gratitude. Overpowered by admiration and respect, he folded his hands, and lifting them up to Sumukha, said: 'Well said, well said, noble being.
52, 53. 'If met with among men or deities, such self-denial would pass for a miracle, as is practised by thee claiming it thy duty to give up thy life for the sake of thy master. I will pay thee my homage, therefore, and set free thy king. Who, indeed, may be capable of doing evil to him who is dearer to thee than life?'
With these words the Nishâda, without caring for the mandate of his king, listening to the voice of his compassion, paid honour to the king of swans, and released him from the snare. And Sumukha, the commander-in-chief, greatly rejoiced at the rescue of his king, fixed a glad and kind look on the Nishâda and spoke:
54. 'As thou hast rejoiced me now by the release of the king of swans, O thou source of gladness to thy friends, mayst thou in the same way be rejoiced with thy friends and kinsmen for many thousands of years!
55. 'Then, that thy labour may not be fruitless, well, take me and also this king of swans, and carrying us on thy shoulder-pole, free and unbound, show us to thy king in his zenana.
56. 'Beholding the king of swans with his minister, this ruler, no doubt, will show thee his gladness by a gift of riches larger than that thou didst dream of, a source to thee of great rejoicing.'
The Nishâda acceded to his request, thinking, the king must see at all events this marvellous couple of swans, and placing them (in baskets) on his pole unhurt and unbound, showed those excellent swans to the king.
57. 'Deign to see,' quoth he, 'the wonderful present I offer you, my lord. Here is that famous king of swans, together with his commander-in-chief!'
On beholding those two foremost of swans, who by the glittering splendour of their lovely figures resembled two solid pieces of gold, the king filled with amazement and exulting with gladness said to the Nishâda:
58. 'How didst thou obtain possession of those two who remain in thy hands, unhurt and unbound, though able to fly away from thee who art on foot? Tell it me at length.'
Being thus addressed, the Nishâda bowing to the king, answered:
59-62. 'I had laid down many snares, O so cruel causes of pain, in pools and ponds, the places of recreation of the birds. Then this foremost of swans, moving unsuspectingly, owing to his trustfulness, got his foot entangled in a hidden snare. The other, though free, was keeping him company, and entreated me to take him in redemption for the life of his king, uttering in a human voice articulate and sweet-sounding language. His ardent request derived its power from his readiness to sacrifice his own life.
63. 'So great was the effect of his soft words and his strong deeds in behalf of his master, that I was converted to tenderness, and dismissed his lord together with my own cruel temper.
64. 'After which, rejoiced at the release of the king of birds, he returned many thanks and blessings to me, and instructed me to go up in this manner to you, that my labour, so he said, should not have been a burden by lack of reward.
65. 'And so it is out of gratitude for the deliverance of his king and in my behalf, that this most righteous being, whosoever he may be, who under the outward appearance of a bird roused in one moment tenderness of mind in the heart of a person like me, has arrived of his own accord together with his master at your zenana.'
The king was filled by these words with great joy and amazement. He assigned to the king of swans a golden throne with a footstool, a seat well becoming a king; for it had brilliant feet glittering with the lustre of various jewels, was spread with a most costly and lovely cover, and provided with a soft cushion on its back. To Sumukha he offered a bamboo seat fit for a chief minister to sit upon. Then the Bodhisattva, considering that it was now the proper time to make a complimentary address, spoke to the king in a voice as soft as the sound of anklets.
66. 'Thy body, adorned with lustre and loveliness, is in good health, I hope, O health-deserving prince. And so, I hope, is also that other body of thine which is made up of thy righteousness. Does it frequently emit, so to speak, its breath of pious discourses and gifts?
67. 'Thou hast dedicated thyself, hast thou not? to the task of protecting thy subjects, distributing reward or punishment in due time, so as to make both thy illustrious glory and the people's affection, together with their welfare, always increase?
68. 'Hast thou not the assistance of affectionate and honest ministers, averse to fraud and skilled in the management of affairs, with whom to consider the interest of thy subjects? Thy mind is not indifferent to this important matter, I hope?
69. 'When the kings, thy vassals, after incurring abatement of their splendour by thy policy and vigour, entreat thee to show them mercy, thou wilt generously follow the impulse of pity, I hope, without, however, indulging in trustfulness, which is nothing but the sleep of carelessness?
70. 'Are thy actions, tending to secure the unobstructed pursuit of dharma, artha, and kâma, not applauded by the virtuous, O hero among men, and wide-spread in the world, so to say, by the effect of thy renown? And thy enemies have but sighs to hurt them, I hope?'
In reply to these questions the king, manifesting by his gladness the placidity of his senses[158], spoke to him:
71. 'Now my welfare is assured in every respect, O swan, for I have obtained the long wished-for happiness of meeting with your holy persons.
72, 73. 'This man, having captured thee in the snare, did not hurt thee, I hope, in the exuberance of his joy with his pain-inflicting stick? So it happens, in fact, when there arises calamity to birds, that the mind of those knaves, soiled by exulting joy, impels them to sinful actions.'
The Bodhisattva spoke:
74-77. 'I did not suffer, great king, while in that most distressing condition, nor did this man behave towards me at all like an enemy. When he perceived Sumukha staying there, though uncaught, out of love for me, as if he, too, had been caught, he addressed him with great kindness, prompted by curiosity and astonishment. Afterwards, having been propitiated by the gentle words of Sumukha, he released me from the snare, and setting me free, showed respect and honour to me. It is for this reason that Sumukha, wishing this man's good, told him to bring us hither. May then our arrival cause happiness also to him!'
The king said:
78, 79. 'Having eagerly longed for your arrival, I bid welcome here to both of you. The sight of you is a feast to my eyes and causes me extreme gladness. As to that Nishâda, I will bestow a rich gift upon him presently. Having shown kindness to both of you, he deserves a high reward.'
Then the king honoured the Nishâda by a munificent gift of great wealth. After which, he again addressed the king of swans:
80. 'Ye have come here to this residence, which is yours, indeed. Pray, set aside, then, cramping reserve with respect to me, and make known in what way and how I may serve your wants. For my riches are at your service.
81. 'A friend expressing his wants in frank speech, causes a greater satisfaction to a wealthy man, than he could obtain from his riches. For this reason, unreservedness among friends is a great benefit.'
Then, being also very curious to converse with Sumukha, the king casting his admiring looks on him, addressed him thus:
82. 'Surely, new acquaintances are not bold enough to speak frankly to the newly acquired friend, in whose mind they have not yet got footing. Still, they will use at least kind language, adorned by courteous terms.
83. 'It is for this reason that I beg also Thy Honour to favour me with thy conversation. So thou wouldst realise my desire of acquiring thy friendship and increase the gladness of my heart.'
On these words, Sumukha, the commander-in-chief of swans, bowing respectfully to the king, spoke:
84. 'A conversation with thee who art great Indra's equal, is a kind of festival. Who, therefore, would not feel that this token of thy friendly disposition surpassed his wishes?
85, 86. 'But would it not have been an unbecoming act of insolence for an attendant to join in the conversation of the two monarchs, of men and of birds, while they were exchanging lovely words of friendship? No, a well-educated person does not act in that way. How, then, could I, knowing this, follow that way? On this account, great prince, I was silent, and if I need thy pardon, I deserve it.'
In reply to these words the king, expressing by his countenance his gladness and admiration, eulogised Sumukha.
87. 'Justly the world takes delight in hearing the fame of thy virtues. Justly the king of swans made thee his friend. Such modesty and accomplished demeanour is displayed by none but those who have subdued their inner self.
88. 'Therefore I sincerely trust that these friendly relations, now commenced between us, will never be broken off. The meeting of pious persons, indeed, produces friendship.'
Then the Bodhisattva, understanding that the king was eagerly desirous of their friendship and inclined to show them his affection, addressed him in terms of praise:
89. 'Following the impulse of thy generous nature, thou hast acted towards us as one should act to one's best friend, although our acquaintance has only been made just now.
90. 'Whose heart, then, would not be won, illustrious prince, by such honourable treatment as thou hast shown us?
91. 'Whatever profit thou expectest from relations with me, O lord, or however important thou mayst deem them, it is a matter of fact that thou hast displayed thy hospitable disposition by practising hospitality, O thou lover of virtues!
92. 'But this is no wonder in a self-subdued prince such as thou, who bearest thy royal duties for the interest of thy subjects, intent on penance and profound contemplation, like a Muni. Thou, in truth, hadst but to follow the inclination of thy excellent nature to become a storehouse of virtues.
93. 'It is virtues that procure to their possessor the satisfaction of such praise, as I did celebrate of thee. They afford happiness, but in the strongholds of vice there dwells no bliss. What conscious being, then, knowing this to be the constant law as to virtue and vice, would resort to the wrong way which diverges from his good?
94. 'Not by military prowess nor by the strength of his treasury nor by a successful policy will a prince reach that high rank, which he may obtain even without exertion and expense, if he but follow the right path which consists in the cultivation of virtues.
95. 'Virtues are visited even by such bliss, as attends the Lord of the Devas; the virtuous alone attain humility; virtues alone are the sources of glory; it is on them that the magnificence of sovereignty rests.
96. 'Virtues alone, possessing greater loveliness than moonshine, are able to appease enemies, be their mind never so ferocious by indulgence in jealous anger and pride, be their selfishness never so deep-rooted by a long continuance of hatred.
97. 'For this reason, O sovereign, whose rule earth obeys with its proud kings who bow to thy lustre, foster the love of virtues in thy people, setting them an example by the undiminished splendour of thy modesty and the rest of thy virtues.
98. 'The good of his subjects is the first care of a king, and the way leading to it tends to his bliss both (in this world and in the next)[159]. And this end will be attained, if the king loves righteousness; for people like to follow the conduct of their ruler[160].
99. 'Mayst thou, then, rule thy land with righteousness, and may the Lord of the Celestials have thee in his guard! But though thy presence purifies those who rest on thee, yet must I leave thee now. The sorrow of my fellow-swans draws me to them, so to speak.'
The king and all those present approved of the words spoken by the Bodhisattva. Then he dismissed both excellent swans in the most honourable and kind terms.
The Bodhisattva mounted upward to the sky, which, adorned by the serene beauty of autumn, was as dark-blue as a spotless sword-blade, and followed by Sumukha, his commander-in-chief, as by his reflected image, joined his tribe of swans. And those, by the very sight of him, were filled with the utmost gladness.
100. And after some time that swan, a passionate lover as he was of compassion for his neighbour, came back to the king with his swans, and discoursed to him on the Law of Righteousness. And the king with respectfully bowed head in return honoured him.
In this way, then, the virtuous, even when in distress, behave in such manner as cannot be imitated by the impious; how much less are the latter able to follow up the conduct of the virtuous, when favoured by fortune! [This story is also to be adduced, when praising pious language: 'In this manner a pious language conduces to the good of both[161].' Likewise, when treating of pious friends: 'In this manner they who possess a pious friend will be successful even in dangerous circumstances.' Also to exemplify the fact of the presbyter Ânanda having been a companion (to the Lord) still in previous births: 'So this presbyter sharing the vicissitudes of the Bodhisattva, cherished affection and veneration (for the Lord) for a long, long time.']
This much-renowned tale of the two fabulous swans is thrice told in the collection of Pâli Gâtakas, edited by Fausböll: No. 502 Hamsagâtakam, No. 533 Kullahamsagât., and No. 534 Mahâhamsagât. Of them No. 502 is almost an abridgement of No. 534. These two show another redaction of the tale than that which is contained in No. 533. Our author used some recension closely related to the redaction of No. 533; some of his stanzas are almost identical with the Pâli gâthâs.
From a note in Tawney's translation of the Kathâsaritsâgara (II, p. 506) I learn that Râgendralâla Mitra found the story of the golden swans in the Bodhisattva Avadâna, one of the Hodgson MSS. It is probable that the work quoted is the Bodhisattvâvadânakalpalatâ, which is being edited by Sarak Kandra Dâs, in the Bibliotheca Indica. But as the story in question has not yet been published and the list of contents in the preface of that work is here of no help, I could not find out in which pallava it is told.
Moreover compare Kathâsaritsâgara 3, 26-35 and 114, 17 foll. The self-denial of the commander-in-chief has its counterpart in the behaviour of the sârasa bird in the main story of the third book of the Hitopadesa.