(Cp. the Pâli Gâtaka, No. 482, Fausb. IV, 255-263; Kariyâpitaka II, 6.)
To the virtuous no suffering exists but that of others. It is this they cannot bear, not their own suffering, as will be taught by the following.
One time the Bodhisattva, it is said, lived in the forest as a ruru-deer. He had his residence in a remote part of a large wilderness, far from the paths of men and overgrown with a rich, manifold vegetation. There were a great number of sâls, bakulas, piyâlas, hintâlas, tamâlas, naktamâlas, of vidula and nikula reeds and of shrubs; thickets of simsapâs, tinisas, samîs, palâsas, sâkas, of kusa-grass, bamboo and reeds encumbered it; kadambas, sargas, argunas, dhavas, khadiras, and kutagas abounded in it; and the outstretched branches of many trees were covered as if by a veil with the tendrils of manifold creeping plants. It was the abode of a great many forest-animals: deer of the ruru, prishata and srimara varieties, yaks, elephants, gavaya-oxen, buffaloes, antelopes of the harina and the nyaṅku kind, boars, panthers, hyenas, tigers, wolves, lions, bears, and others. Among them that ruru-deer was conspicuous by its hue brilliant like pure gold and the very soft hair of his body, which was moreover adorned and resplendent with spots of different lovely colours, shining like rubies, sapphires, emeralds, and beryls. With his large blue eyes of incomparable mildness and brightness, with his horns and hoofs endowed with a soft splendour, as if they were made of precious stones, that ruru-deer of surpassing beauty had the appearance of a moving treasury of jewels. Then, knowing his body to be a much desirable object and being aware of the pitiless nature of man, he liked to frequent such forest-tracks as were free from human intercourse, and in consequence of his keen intellect, was careful to avoid such places as were unsafe by the artifices of huntsmen, their traps, nets, snares, holes, lime-twigs, and the seeds and other food they strew down. Moreover, he warned also the animals who followed after him to avoid them. He exercised his rule over them like a teacher, like a father.
1. Where on earth will not people, longing for their happiness, honour the combination of paramount beauty and paramount intelligence, hallowed by accomplished good actions?
Now once upon a time it happened that the High-minded One, residing in that wild part of the forest, heard cries for help uttered by some man who was being carried away by the current of a rapid stream flowing near and lately swollen by the rains.
2. 'The rapid and swollen stream carries me away, and there is nobody to help, no vessel to take me. Come to me, pitiful people; come quickly to rescue a wretch.
3. 'My arms, exhausted from fatigue, are not able to keep my body on the water, and nowhere can I find a ford. Help me then and soon, there is no time to lose.'
These piteous cries of distress struck the Bodhisattva, and as if he were wounded by them in his heart, he rushed out of the thicket, exclaiming those comforting words he had been wont to use in hundreds of previous existences and by which he had banished fear, grief, sadness, and fatigue. So even now he succeeded in bringing forth the words 'do not fear! do not fear!' in plain human voice repeatedly and loudly. And coming out of the forest he saw from afar that man, like a precious present brought to him by the stream.
4. Then, resolved upon rescuing him and without minding the risk of his own life, he entered the river that was running with tremendous rapidity, like a brave warrior disturbing a hostile army.
5. He placed himself across his way, then told him to cling fast to him. And the man, who was in the paroxysm of fear and had almost lost the power of his limbs, his strength being exhausted, climbed on his back.
6. Nevertheless, though he was mounted by the man and forced out of his way by the violence of the current, the paramount excellence of his nature enabled him to keep his great vigour intact, and he reached the riverbank according to the wish of that man.
7. Having brought the man to the riverside and dispelled his weariness and pain, obtaining by this a very great rejoicing himself, he warmed his cold limbs with the warmth of his own body, then dismissed him. 'Go,' he said, showing him the way.
This marvellous propensity for affording succour, such as is unparalleled in affectionate relations and friends, touched the man to the quick, and the beautiful shape of the ruru-deer roused his admiration and respect. Bowing his head to him, he addressed him with kind words like these:
8-10. 'No friend from childhood nor kinsman is capable of performing such a deed as thou hast done for me. This life of mine, therefore, is thine. If it were to be spent for some matter of thy interest, however small, I would esteem myself highly favoured. Why, procure me that favour by ordering me to do something for thee, in whatever respect Thy Honour thinks me fit for employment.'
In reply to this the Bodhisattva said approvingly:
11. 'Gratitude is not at all to be wondered at in a gentleman. For this quality proceeds from his very nature. But seeing the corruptness of the world, even gratitude is nowadays reckoned among the virtues.
'For this reason, I tell thee this. Let thy grateful disposition not induce thee to relate to anybody, that thou wast rescued by such an extraordinary animal. My beautiful figure makes me too desirable a prey. Lo, as a rule, the hearts of men, owing to their great covetousness, possess little mercy or self-restraint.
12. 'Therefore, take care to guard both thy own good properties and me. A treacherous behaviour towards a friend never tends to bliss.
'Do not either trouble thy mind by anger because I speak so to thee. I am but a deer, unskilled in the deceitful politeness of men. Moreover,
13. 'It is the fault of such people as are clever in fallacy and possess the talent of assuming a show of feigned honesty that even those whose honesty is sincere are looked at with suspicion.
'So then, thou wilt please me by doing as I said.' And the man promised to do so, and after bowing to the Great Being and circumambulating him, set out for his home.
Now at that time there lived in that country a queen of some king who saw true dreams. Whatever extraordinary dream she dreamt was realised. One time, being asleep she had this dream about day-break. She saw a ruru-deer of resplendent brilliancy, shining like a heap of jewels of every kind, standing on a throne and surrounded by the king and his assembly, preaching the Law in a human voice of an articulate and distinct sound. Affected with astonishment she awoke with the beating of drums which were to arouse her husband from sleep[182]. And she took the first opportunity to go and see the king, who kindly received her not only with the honour she deserved but also with solicitous affection.
14. Then she, whose bright eyes enlarged with astonishment and whose lovely cheeks were trembling from gladness, presented her lord with the account of that marvellous dream as with a gift of homage.
When she had told her wonderful dream to the king, she added this earnest request:
15. 'Therefore, my lord, pray endeavour to obtain that deer. Adorned with this jewel-deer, your zenana would be as resplendent as the sky with the Deer-asterism[183].'
The king, who trusted by experience the visions of her dreams, readily complied with her desire, partly that he might do something agreeable to her, partly because he himself was covetous of obtaining that jewel-deer. Accordingly he ordered all his huntsmen to search for that deer, and had this proclamation made public in his capital day after day:
16. 'There exists a deer gold-skinned and spotted with various colours shining like hundreds of jewels. It is celebrated in the holy texts, and some have got the sight of it. Whosoever will show that deer, to him the king gives a very rich village and full ten lovely women.'
Now the man (who had been rescued by the Bodhisattva) heard that proclamation again and again.
17. As he was poor, the reflection on the sufferings of poverty afflicted his heart, but on the other hand he kept in mind the great benefit he had received from the ruru-deer. Distracted by cupidity and gratitude, he was moved in both directions as in a swing by different considerations like these:
'What, then, have I to do now? Shall I have regard to Virtue or Wealth? Shall I keep the promise to my benefactor rather than the duty of sustaining my family? Which must I esteem most highly, the other world or this? Which must I follow, the conduct of the pious or rather that of the world? Shall I strive after riches or rather after such good as is cherished by the virtuous? Whether to mind the present time or the time hereafter?' At last his mind disturbed by covetousness came to this conclusion. 'If I have once obtained great wealth,' so he thought, 'I shall be able by means of these riches to gain, while enjoying the pleasures of this world, also happiness in the other world, being intent on honouring my kinsmen and friends, guests and mendicants[184].' Having so resolved, putting out of his mind the benefit of the ruru-deer, he went up to the king and said: 'I, Your Majesty, know that excellent deer and his dwelling-place. Pray, tell me to whom I shall show him.' On hearing this, the king much rejoiced answered him, 'Well, friend, show him to myself,' and putting on his hunting-dress left his capital, accompanied by a large body of his army. Conducted by the man, he went to the aforesaid riverside. Then he encircled the forest adjoining it with the whole of his forces, but himself bearing his bow, wearing his finger-guard[185] and surrounded by a select number of resolute and faithful men, entered the thicket, being shown the way by that man. As they went onward, the man discovering the ruru-deer who quietly and unsuspectingly was staying in his forest, showed him to the king, exclaiming: 'Here, here is that precious deer, Your Majesty. May Your Majesty deign to look at him and be careful.'
18. So saying he raised his arm, eager as he was to point at the deer, and lo, his hand fell down off his arm, as if it had been cut off with a sword.
19. Indeed, when directed at such objects hallowed by their extraordinary performances, one's actions come immediately to ripeness, provided that they are of consequence and there is but little to counterbalance them[186].
Then the king, curious to get the sight of the ruru-deer, let his eyes pass along the way shown by the man.
20. And in the midst of that wood, dark as clouds newly formed, he perceived a body shining with the lustre of a treasury of jewels, and saw that deer, dear by his illustrious properties. So does the fire of lightning appear out of the womb of the cloud.
21. Charmed by the beauty of his figure, the king, eagerly desirous of catching him, immediately curved his bow, made the arrow bite its string and went up to him that he might hit him.
But the Bodhisattva, on hearing the noise of people on every side, had thereby concluded that he must have been surrounded, to be sure. Afterwards perceiving the king coming up ready to shoot off his arrow at him, he understood there was no opportunity for running away. Then he uttered distinct articulate language, addressing the king in a human voice.
22, 23. 'Stop a moment, mighty prince, do not hit me, hero among men! Pray, first satisfy my curiosity, and tell me this. Who may have discovered my abode to thee, far as it is from the paths of men, saying that I, such a deer, dwell in this thicket?'
The king, touched by this wonderful address in a human voice and taking still more interest in him, showed him that man with the point of his arrow. 'This man,' he said, 'has disclosed thy extremely marvellous person to us.' But the Bodhisattva knowing again that man, spoke disapprovingly: 'Fie upon him!
24, 25. 'It is a true saying, in truth "better is it to take a log out of the water than to save an ungrateful person from it." In this manner he returns that exertion made in his behalf! How is it that he did not see that he destroyed his own happiness, too, at the same time?'
Now the king, being curious to know what he might thus reproach, vividly said to the ruru-deer:
26, 27. 'On hearing thee censure somebody without catching the meaning of thy obscure words or knowing with respect of whom thou spokest them, my mind is somewhat alarmed. Therefore, tell me, wonderful deer, who is he on whose account thou speakest so? Is it a man or a spirit, a bird or perhaps a forest-animal?'
The Bodhisattva spoke:
28. 'No desire of blaming prompted me, O king, to this utterance, but becoming aware of this blame-deserving action, I spoke sharp words in order to prevent him from attempting to do such a thing again.
29. 'For who would like to use harsh language to those who have committed a sin, strewing, so to speak, salt upon the wound of their fault? But even to his beloved son a physician is obliged to apply such medical treatment as is made necessary by his illness.
30. 'He whom I, moved by pity, rescued, when he was carried off by the current, is the man who made this danger arise for me, O best of men. Indeed, intercourse with wicked people does not tend to bliss.'
Then the king, casting on that man a stern look expressive of harsh reproach, asked him: 'Oh, in truth, wast thou rescued before from such a distress by this deer?' And the man, who was pale and perspired with fear, sorrow, and dejection, answered in a low tone of shame: 'Yes, I was.' Upon which the king revilingly exclaimed: 'Fie upon thee!' and placing the arrow on the bowstring he continued: 'Do not think it a trifle!
31. 'He whose heart was not even softened by an exertion like that employed in thy behalf, is a vile representative of his fellow-creatures and brings them into dishonour. Why should this lowest of men live any longer?'
With these words he grasped his bow in the middle and bent it in order to kill him. But the Bodhisattva, overpowered by his great compassion, placed himself between, saying to the king: 'Stop, Your Majesty, stop, do not strike one already stricken!
32. 'At the very moment that he listened to the culpable enticement of Cupidity, his enemy, at that moment surely, he was ruined both in this world, because of the loss of his good name, and in the next too, his righteousness being destroyed.
33. 'Yea, in this way, when their soundness of mind has faded away in consequence of unbearable sufferings, men fall into calamities, being allured by the prospect of rich profit, like foolish moths attracted by the shining of a light.
34. 'Thou must, therefore, rather pity him and restrain thy wrath. And if he wanted to obtain something by so acting, let not his rash deed lack that reward. For lo, I am standing here with bent head awaiting thy orders.'
This merciful and sincere desire to reward even the man who had ill-treated him excited the highest surprise of the king. His heart became converted, and looking up with veneration to the ruru-deer, he exclaimed: 'Well said, well said, holy being.
35. 'Verily, showing such mercy to him whose cruel offence against thee is evident, thou art a human being by thy properties, we do bear but the shape of men.
36. 'Further, since thou deemest this knave worth commiseration, and since he has been the cause of my seeing a virtuous person, I give him the wealth he coveted and to thee the permission to go freely in this kingdom wherever it pleases thee.'
The ruru-deer said: 'I accept this royal boon, illustrious king, which is not given in vain. Therefore, deign to give me thy orders, that our meeting here may afford thee profit and that I may be of some use to thee.' Then the king made the ruru-deer mount his royal chariot, worshipping him like his teacher, and led him with great pomp to his capital. And having given him the reception due to a guest and invited him to place himself on the royal throne, he with his wives and the whole retinue of his officers exhorted him to preach the Law, and raising his eyes to him with a kind expression of gladness mixed with reverence, entreated him in this manner:
37. 'There is a great diversity of opinions among men concerning the Law, but thou possessest the certainty about the Law. Deign, therefore, to preach it to us.'
Upon which the Bodhisattva raised his voice and preached the Law to the king and his royal assembly in words distinctly spoken in a soft tone and elegantly composed.
38. 'Of the Law with the manifold performances depending on it and with its subdivisions: abstaining from injuring others, from theft, &c., this, I believe, is the brief summary "Mercy to the creatures."
'Look here, illustrious prince.
39. 'If mercy to all creatures should make men hold them like themselves or their own family, whose heart would ever cherish the baleful desire for wickedness?
40. 'But the lack of mercy is to men the cause of the greatest disturbance, as it corrupts the action of their minds and words and bodies no less with respect to their family than to strangers.
41. 'For this reason he who strives for Righteousness ought to keep to mercy, which will yield rich profit. Mercy[187], indeed, engenders virtues, as a fructifying rain makes the crops grow.
42. 'Mercy, possessing a man's mind, destroys in it the passion for injuring one's neighbour; and his mind being pure, neither his speech nor his body will be perverted. So the love of one's neighbour's good always increases and becomes the source of many other virtues: charity, forbearance, and so on, which are followed by gladness of mind and are conducive to reputation.
43. 'The merciful one does not arouse apprehension in the mind of others because of his tranquillity. Owing to his mercy, everybody will hold him a person to be trusted, as if he were their kinsman. No agitation of passion will seize him whose heart has been made firm by mercy, nor does the fire of anger blaze within his mind which enjoys the coolness of water, thanks to mercy.
44. 'Why use many words? For this reason the wise firmly believe that in Mercy the whole of Righteousness is contained. What virtue, indeed, cherished by the pious does there exist which is not the consequence of Mercy? Having this in mind, be intent on ever fortifying thy mercy to all people, holding them like thy son, like thyself; and winning by thy pious conduct the hearts of thy people, mayst thou glorify thy royalty!'
Then the king praised these words of the ruru-deer, and with his townsmen and landsmen became intent on acting up to the Law of Righteousness. And he granted security to all quadrupeds and birds.
In this manner, then, for the virtuous no suffering exists but that of others. It is this they cannot bear, not their own suffering. [This story is also to be told when discoursing on compassion, and may be adduced when treating of the high-mindedness of the virtuous, also when censuring the mischievous.]
(Cp. the Pâli Gâtaka, No. 407, Fausb. III, 370-375.)
Those who follow the behaviour of the virtuous win over even the hearts of their enemies. This will be taught as follows.
In the heart of the Himavat there is a blessed region, whose soil is covered with many kinds of herbs of different efficacious properties, and abounds in hundreds of forest-trees with their great variety and manifold arrangement of boughs, twigs, flowers, and fruits. It is irrigated by mountain-currents whose water possesses the limpidity of crystals, and resounds with the music of manifold crowds of birds. In that forest the Bodhisattva lived, it is said, a chief of a troop of monkeys. But even in that state—in consequence of his constant practice of charity and compassion—jealousy, selfishness, and cruelty, as if they were at war with him because he attended on their enemies (the virtues), would not enter his mind. There he had his residence on a large banian tree, which by its height, standing out superior against the sky like the top of a mountain, might pass for the lord of that forest, and by the thickness of its branches beset with dark foliage, resembled a mass of clouds. Those branches were somewhat curved, being loaded with excellent fruits of a size surpassing that of palmyra-nuts, and distinguished by an exceedingly sweet flavour and a lovely colour and smell.
1. The virtuous, even when they are in the state of animals, have still some remainder of good fortune[188] which tends to the happiness of their friends, for whose sake they employ it, in the same manner as the remainder of the wealth of people abroad may serve the wants of their friends.
Now one branch of that tree hung over a river which passed by that place[189]. Now the Bodhisattva, far-sighted as he was, had instructed his flock of monkeys in this manner: 'Unless ye prevent this banian-branch from having fruit, none of you will ever be able to eat any fruit from the other branches[190].' Now it once happened that the monkeys overlooked one young and for this reason not very big fruit, hidden as it was in the cavity of some leaf crooked by ants. So that fruit grew on, and in time developed its fine colour, smell, flavour, and softness; when it had ripened and its stalk became loose, it dropped into the river. Being carried down the stream, it stuck at last in the net-work of a fence (let down in the river by the orders) of a certain king, who, with his harem, was sporting at that time in the water of that river.
2. Spreading about its delicious smell of great excellency and delightful to the nose, that fruit made the different other odours disappear, that exhaled there from the garlands, the rum, and the perfumes of the bathing women, however those scents were intensified by the union of the women interlacing each other.
3. This smell soon enchanted the women; they enjoyed it with prolonged inhalations and half-shut eyes. And being curious to know its origin, they cast their eyes in all directions.
And while casting their eyes, stirred by curiosity, all around, the women perceived that banian fig, surpassing by its size a ripe palmyra-nut, as it stuck to the net-work of the fence, and having once discovered it, they could not keep their eyes from it. Nor was the king less curious to know the nature of that fruit. He had it brought to him, and after examination by reliable physicians tasted it himself.
4. Its marvellous flavour (rasa) raised the king's amazement, as (in a dramatic composition) the marvellous sentiment (rasa), ravishing (the mind of the spectators) by a good representation, rouses their admiration.
5. Had its extraordinary colour and smell stirred his surprise before, now its flavour filled him with the highest admiration, and agitated him with lust.
Though accustomed to dainties, the king became so eager to enjoy that relish that this thought came to him:
6. 'If one does not eat those fruits, in truth, what fruit does one enjoy from his royalty? But he who gets them is really a king, and this without the toil of exercising royal power.'
Accordingly, having made up his mind to find out its origin, he reasoned in this way to himself. 'Surely, the excellent tree, whence came this fruit, cannot be far from here and it must stand on the riverside. For it cannot have been in contact with the water for a long time, since it has kept its colour, smell, and flavour intact, and is moreover undamaged and shows no trace of decomposition. For this reason, it is possible to pursue its origin.' Having so resolved, as he was possessed by a strong desire for that delicious flavour, he ceased that water-sport, and, after taking such measures as were suitable for the maintenance of order in his capital (during his absence), set out, accompanied by a great body of armed people equipped for expedition. With them he marched up the river and enjoyed the different and various sensations proper to journeying in a forest-region, clearing his way through thickets haunted by ferocious animals, beholding woodlands of great natural beauty, and frightening elephants and deer by the noise of his drums. At last he reached the neighbourhood of that tree, a place difficult for men to approach.
7. Like a mass of clouds hanging down by the burden of their water, this lord of trees appeared from afar to the eyes of the king, dominating the other trees which seemed to look up to it as to their sovereign, and, though it stood near a steep mountain, resembling a mountain itself.
The exceedingly lovely smell, more fragrant than that of ripe mango fruits, which was spreading from it and met the army as if it went to receive it, made the king sure that this was the tree he sought for. Coming near, he saw many hundreds of apes filling its boughs and branches and occupied in eating its fruits. The king became angry with those monkeys who robbed him of the objects so ardently longed for, and with harsh words as 'Hit them! hit them! drive them away, destroy them all, these scoundrels of monkeys!' he ordered his men to assail them. And those warriors made themselves ready to shoot off the arrows from their bows (strung), and uttered cries to frighten away the monkeys; others lifted up clods and sticks and spears to throw at them. They invaded the tree, as if they were to attack a hostile fortress.
But the Bodhisattva had perceived the approach of that noisy royal army moving with loud tumult and uproar, like the billows of a sea roused by the violence of the wind; he had seen the assault made on all sides of his excellent tree with a shower of arrows, spears, clods, sticks, which resembled a shower of thunderbolts; and he beheld his monkeys unable to do anything but utter discordant cries of fear, while they looked up to him with faces pale with dejection. His mind was affected with the utmost compassion. Being himself free from affliction, sadness, and anxiety, he comforted his tribe of monkeys, and having resolved upon their rescue, climbed to the top of the tree, desirous to jump over to the mountain-peak near it. And although that place could be reached only by many successive leaps, the Great Being, by dint of his surpassing heroism, passed across like a bird and held the spot.
8. Other monkeys would not be able to traverse that space even in two successive leaps, but he, the courageous one, swiftly crossed it with one single bound, as if it were a small distance.
9. His compassion had fostered his strong determination, but it was his heroism which brought it to its perfection. So he made his utmost effort to carry it out, and by the earnestness of his exertion he found the way to it in his mind.
Having mounted, then, on some elevated place of the mountain-slope, he found a cane, tall and strong, deep-rooted and strong-rooted, the size of which surpassed the distance (between the mountain and the tree). This he fastened to his feet, after which he jumped back to the tree. But as the distance was great and he was embarrassed by his feet being tied, the Great Being hardly succeeded in seizing with his hands the nearest branch of the tree.
10. Then holding fast that branch and keeping the cane stretched by his effort, he ordered his tribe, making them the signal proper to his race, to come quickly off the tree.
And the monkeys, as they were bewildered by fear, having found that way of retreat, hastened to make use of it, wildly rushing over his body without regard to him, and safely escaped along that cane.
11. While being incessantly trodden by the feet of those fear-bewildered monkeys, his body lost the solidity of its flesh, but his mind did not lose its extraordinary firmness.
On beholding this, the king and his men were overcome with the utmost astonishment.
12. Such a splendid display of strength and wisdom, combined with such great self-denial and mercy to others, must rouse wonder in the minds of those who hear of it; how much more did it affect the bystanders who witnessed it?
Then the king commanded his men in this manner: 'This chief of apes,' he said, 'having his limbs shaken and bruised by the feet of the multitude of monkeys who, agitated by fear, ran over his body, and remaining in that same position for a long time, must be excessively tired. Surely, he will be unable to retire from this difficult posture by himself. Therefore, quickly dress a canopy underneath the place where he is, which being done, the cane and the banian branch must be shot off simultaneously, with one arrow each.' And they did so. Then the king ordered the monkey to be gently lifted off the canopy and placed on a soft couch. There he lay without consciousness, for in consequence of the pain of his wounds and his exhaustion he had swooned. After his wounds had been salved with clarified butter and other ointments suitable for the relief of fresh bruises, his faintness grew less. When he had recovered his senses, he was visited by the king, who, affected with curiosity, admiration, and respect, after asking him about his health, continued thus:
13. 'Thou madest thy body a bridge for those monkeys, and feeling no mercy for thy own life, rescuedst them. What art thou to them or what are they to thee?
14. 'If thou deemest me a person worth hearing this matter, pray, tell it me, foremost of monkeys. No small fetters of friendship, methinks, should fasten one's mind to enable it to do the like performances.'
In reply to these words the Bodhisattva, in return for the king's wish to relieve him, made himself known in a proper manner. He said:
15. 'Those, always prompt to act up to my orders, charged me with the burden of being their ruler. And I, for my part, bound to them with the affection of a father for his children, engaged myself to bear it; so I did.
16. 'This, mighty sovereign, is the kind of relation existing between them and me. It is rooted by time and has increased the friendly feelings existing between animals of the same species. Our dwelling together has strengthened it to the mutual affection of kinsmen.'
On hearing this, the king affected with great admiration replied:
17. 'The ministers and the rest of his officials are to serve the interest of their lord, not the king to serve theirs. For what, then, did Your Honour sacrifice yourself in behalf of your attendants?'
The Bodhisattva spoke: 'Verily, such is the lore of Political Wisdom (râganîti), Your Majesty, but to me it seems something difficult to follow.
18. 'It is excessively painful to overlook heavy and unbearable pain, even if the sufferer be somebody unacquainted with us. How much more, if those suffer who, having their minds intent on worshipping us, are like dear relations to us!
19. 'So, on seeing distress and despair overwhelming the monkeys in consequence of their sudden danger, a great sorrow overcame me, which did not leave me room to think of my personal interest.
20. 'Perceiving the bows bent and the glittering arrows fly upward on all sides, and hearing the dreadful noise of the strings, hastily and without further consideration I jumped over from the tree to the mountain.
21. 'Then—for the distress of my poor comrades, overcome with the highest degree of terror, drew me back to them—I tied a cane fast to my feet, a well-rooted reed, suitable for the effort at which I aimed.
22. 'So I jumped once more, leaping from the mountain-side to the tree, in order to rescue my comrades, and with my hands I attained its nearest branch stretched out like a hand to meet me.
23. 'And while I was hanging there with extended body between that cane and that outstretched branch of the tree, those comrades of mine happily made their escape, running without hesitation over my body.'
The king, perceiving the ecstasy of gladness, which even in that miserable condition pervaded the Great Being, and much wondering at it, again spoke to him:
24. 'What good has Your Honour obtained, thus despising your own welfare and taking upon yourself the disaster which threatened others?'
The Bodhisattva spoke:
25. 'Verily, my body is broken, O king, but my mind is come to a state of the greatest soundness, since I removed the distress of those, over whom I exercised royal power for a long time.
26. 'As heroes who have vanquished their proud enemies in battle wear on their limbs the beautiful marks of their prowess like ornaments, so I gladly bear these pains.
27. 'Now I have requited them that long succession of prosperity which I got by the chieftaincy over my tribe, that showed me not only their reverence and other marks of worship, but also their affectionate attachment.
28. 'For this reason, this bodily pain does not grieve me, nor the separation from my friends, nor the destruction of my pleasure, nor my approaching death which I have incurred by thus acting. It seems to me rather the approach of a high festival.
29, 30. 'Self-satisfaction gained by requital of former benefits, appeasement of the solicitude (caused thereby), a spotless fame, honour on the part of a king, fearlessness of death, and the approbation which my grateful behaviour will meet with from the virtuous: these good qualities, O thou who, like a tree[191], art the residence of excellent virtues!—have I obtained by falling in with this wretched state. But the vices opposite to these virtues will be met by such a king as is without mercy for his dependents.
31. 'For, if a king be devoid of virtues, if he have destroyed his good renown and vices have taken up their abode in him, say, what else may he expect than to go to the fierce-flaming fires of hell?
32. 'For this reason I have explained to thee, powerful prince, the power of virtues and vices. Rule, therefore, thy realm with righteousness. For Fortune shows in her affections the fickle nature of a woman.
33. 'His army, not only the military men but also the animals of war; his officials; his people, both townsmen and landsmen; those who have no protector; and both (classes of religious people) Sramanas and Brâhmans; all of them must a king endeavour to endow with such happiness as is conducive to their good, as if he were their father.
34. 'In this manner increasing in merit, wealth, and glory, thou mayst enjoy prosperity both in this world and in the next. With this kind of felicity proper to the holy kings of old (râgarshis) and attainable by practising commiseration towards thy subjects, mayst thou be illustrious, O king of men!'
35. After thus instructing the king who, like a pupil, listened to him with devout attention and set a high value on his words, he left his body paralysed in its functions by the excess of his pains, and mounted to Heaven.
In this manner, then, those who imitate the behaviour of the virtuous win over even the hearts of their enemies. Thus considering, he who is desirous of gaining the affection of men ought to imitate the behaviour of the virtuous. [This story is also to be propounded, when discoursing on the Tathâgata. 'The creatures are not as able to bring about their own profit, as the Lord was to bring about the profit of others.' Likewise, when treating of listening with attention to the preaching of the Law, when discoursing on compassion, and also when instructing princes, in which case this is to be said: 'In this manner a king must be merciful towards his subjects.' It may be adduced also, when treating of gratitude. 'In this manner the virtuous show their gratitude.']
(Cp. the Pâli Gâtaka, No. 313, Fausb. III, 39-43.)
Truly, to those who have wholly imbibed the virtue of forbearance and are great in keeping their tranquillity there is nothing unbearable. This will be taught as follows.
One time the Bodhisattva, it is said, was an ascetic who had forsaken the world. He had become convinced that the life in a home, since it is beset with bad occupations, leaves but little room for righteousness; for it is visited by many sins and evils and unfit for quiet, inasmuch as it implies the prevalence of material interest (artha) and sensual pleasures (kâma); it is exposed to the inroad of defiling passions: love, hatred, infatuation, jealousy, anger, lasciviousness, pride, selfishness, and the rest; it involves the loss of the possession of shame and religion, and is the abode of covetousness and wicked lust. On the other hand he understood the homeless state, as it avoids material property and sensual objects, to be an agreeable one, being wholly free from those evils. Thus knowing, he became an ascetic, eminent by his conduct, his learning, his placidity of mind, his modesty, and his self-restraint. As he was in the habit of always preaching forbearance and teaching the Law from that point of view, in strict conformity with the vow he had taken to do so, people neglecting his proper name and that of his family, made him a name of their own invention, calling him Kshântivâdin (forbearance-preacher).
1. Illustrious domination or knowledge or penance, also an extreme passion for arts, likewise anomaly of body, language or behaviour are the causes of giving new names to men.
2. So was the case with him. His true name vanished for the appellation of Kshântivâdin, because knowing the power of forbearance and desiring to adorn mankind, like himself, with that virtue he constantly used to discourse on that topic.
3. The great endurance, which was a part of his very nature and the firmness of which he showed by his unaltered calm, when injured by others, as well as his excellent sermons on that subject, gave him the renown of a Muni.
The residence of the High-minded One was a place in the forest, lovely by its utter solitude and exhibiting the charming beauty of a garden; it bore flowers and fruits at all seasons, and encompassed a pond of pure water embellished by white and blue lotuses. By his dwelling there he procured for that place the holiness of a hermitage.
4. For where pious persons adorned with excellent virtues, have their residence, such a place is a very auspicious and lovely one, a sacred place of pilgrimage (tîrtha), a hermitage.
There he was venerated by the different deities, who were living there, and often visited by such people as were lovers of virtues and desirous of their salvation. To that multitude of visitors he showed the high favour of entertaining them with his sermons on the subject of forbearance, rejoicing both their ears and hearts.
Now one time in the season of summer it happened that the king of that country, in consequence of the hot weather, was seized with a great longing to play in the water, a very desirable thing at that time. So he went with his harem to that place in the forest, as it was distinguished by the different delights proper to gardens.
5. While he was rambling in the wood with the beauties of his zenana spreading about on all sides, he embellished its Nandana-like splendour, so to speak, by the rich display of the graceful sport of himself and his wanton retinue.
6. In the arbours and bowers, under the forest-trees with their laughing dress of flowers, and in the water with its expanding lotuses the king delighted in the unrestrained expansion of the natural dalliance of the females.
7. Smilingly he beheld the graceful movements of fear and its beautiful expression on the faces of some molested by bees, that were allured by the perfumes of the implements for bathing and anointing mixed with the fragrance of garlands and the odour of the rum.
8. Though they had adorned their ears with the most beautiful flowers, and their hair wore plenty of garlands, the women could not have enough of flowers. In the same way the king could not look enough at their wanton playing.
9. He beheld those chaplet-like clusters of females, now clinging to the arbours, now tarrying at the lotus-groups, sometimes hovering like bees about the flowery trees.
10. Even the bold lascivious cries of the cuckoos, the dances of the peacocks, and the humming of the bees were outdone by the tattle, the dances, and the songs of those women.
11. The sound of the royal drums, as strong as the rattling of thunder, induced the peacocks to utter their peculiar cries and make a wide-spread circle of their tails, as if they were actors worshipping the monarch by the virtue of their art.
Then, having enjoyed, with his harem, to his heart's content the pleasure of walking about in that garden-like wood, as he was tired with incessant playing and drunkenness overcame his mind, the king laid himself down on his very precious royal couch in a beautiful arbour, and fell asleep.
Now, when the women perceived that their lord was no longer occupied with them, as they were not satiated with the manifold loveliness of the forest which kept them enchanted, they moved from that place, and rambled about in groups formed according to their liking, mixing the confused sounds of their rattling ornaments with the tinkling noise of their chatter.
12. Followed by the badges of sovereign power, the royal umbrella, the royal tail-fan, the royal seat &c., which were decorated with golden ornaments and borne by female slaves, the women walked about, indulging unrestrainedly in their natural wantonness.
13. Disregarding the entreaties of the female servants, they greedily laid hands upon the lovely flowers and twigs of the trees within their reach, prompted by their petulance.
14. Though they had plenty of flowers, both as ornaments and arranged as wreaths, they left on their way no shrub lovely by its flowers, nor tree with its waving twigs without stripping them, out of cupidity.
Now in the course of their rambling through the forest, the loveliness of which had captured their minds, the king's harem approached the hermitage of Kshântivâdin. But those who were in charge of the royal wives, although they knew the penance-power and high-mindedness of that Muni, did not venture to prevent them from entering, on account of the king's attachment to his darlings, lest he might resent their intervention. So the royal wives, as if they were attracted by the splendour of that hermitage, the loveliness of which was enhanced by (the) supernatural power (of its occupant), entered the hermitage and saw the eminent Muni sitting there with crossed legs under a tree, a view auspicious and purifying to behold. His tranquillity gave a soft expression to his countenance; the exceeding profundity of his mind inspired awe; his face radiated, as it were, from the splendour of his penance and, owing to his diligent exercise of dhyâna, bore the beautiful expression of calm, as is proper to undisturbed senses, even though the loftiest subjects of meditation were present to his thoughts. In short, he was like the embodied Dharma. The lustre of his penance subdued the minds of those royal wives, and the very sight of him was sufficient to make them abandon their dalliance, frivolity, and haughtiness. Accordingly they went to him in a humble attitude, and sat down respectfully in a circle around him. He, for his part, performed to them the usual salutation, welcoming them and saying to them kind and courteous things which are agreeable to guests; then availing himself of the opportunity which their questions procured him, he showed them his hospitality by a religious discourse, preaching in such terms as were easily understood by women, and illustrating his exposition of the Law with examples.
15. 'He who, having obtained the blameless human state, and being born in the full possession of organs and senses sound and vigorous, without any defect[193], neglects to do good actions every day from lack of attention—such a one is much deceived; is he not subject to the necessity of death?
16. 'A man may be ever so excellent by his birth, his figure, his age, his superior power, or the wealth of his estate, never will he enjoy happiness in the other world, unless he be purified by charity, good conduct (sîla), and the rest of the virtues.
17. 'For surely, he who though devoid of a noble birth and the rest, abhorring wickedness, resorts to the virtues of charity, good conduct &c., such a one is hereafter visited by every kind of bliss, as the sea in the rainy season by the water of the rivers.
18. 'To him who excels by his extraction, his figure, his age, his superior power, or the wealth of his estate, attachment to virtues is the most proper ornament already in this world; his golden garlands are only indicative of his riches.
19. 'Blossoms are the ornaments of trees, it is flashes of lightning that adorn the big rain-clouds, the lakes are adorned by lotuses and waterlilies with their drunken bees; but virtues brought to perfection are the proper ornament of living beings.
20. 'The various differences of men with respect to their health, duration of life, beauty of figure, wealth, birth may be classed under the heads of low, middle and high. This triad is not the effect of natural properties nor caused by external influences, indeed. No, it is the result of a man's actions (karma).
21. 'Knowing this to be the fixed law of human existence, and keeping in mind the fickleness and frailness of life, a man must avoid wickedness, directing his heart to pious behaviour. For this is the way leading to good reputation and to happiness.
22. 'But a defiled mind acts like a fire, it burns away the good of one's self and one's neighbour. He who is afraid of wickedness, therefore, ought carefully to keep off such defilement by cultivating what tends to the contrary.
23. 'As a fire, however fiercely burning, if it meet a great river, filled up to its borders with water, becomes extinguished, so does the fire which blazes within the mind of a man, if he relies on forbearance that will serve him both in this world and in the next.
24. 'So forbearance is of great benefit. He who practises this virtue avoids wickedness, for he has vanquished the causes of it. In consequence thereof he will not rouse enmity, owing to his cherishing friendliness. For this reason, he will be a person beloved and honoured, and accordingly enjoy a happy life. At the end he comes to Heaven (as easily) as if he entered his home, thanks to his attachment to a meritorious behaviour.
'Moreover, ladies, this virtue of forbearance, I say,
25. 'Is celebrated as the superior degree of a pious nature; as the highest development obtainable by merit and good repute; as that purification which is attained without touching water; as the highest wealth afforded by many affluents of virtuous properties.
26. 'It is praised also as the lovely firmness of mind of the virtuous which is always indifferent to injuries done to them by others; as having obtained by its properties its lovely name of kshamâ[194]; as benefiting mankind; as well acquainted with pity.
27. 'Forbearance is the ornament of the powerful; it is the highest pitch of the strength of ascetics; and since it has the effect of a shower of rain on the conflagration of evils, it may be called the extinguisher of misfortune both in this world and after death.
28. 'To the virtuous forbearance is a coat of mail, blunting the arrows which the tongue of the wicked shoots off against them. Mostly it changes those weapons into flowers of praise, which may be inserted in the garland of their glory.
29. 'It is stated to be the killer of Delusion, that adversary of the Dharma, and an easy contrivance by which to reach salvation. Who, then, ought not to do his utmost to obtain forbearance, that virtue invariably conducive to happiness?'
In this manner the High-minded One entertained those female guests with an edifying sermon.
Meanwhile the king, having satisfied his want of sleep, awoke; his lassitude was gone, but his eyes were still heavy with the dimness of inebriation, which had not entirely passed away. Desirous of continuing his amorous sport, he frowningly asked the female servants who were guarding his couch, where his wives were. 'Your Majesty,' they answered, 'Their Highnesses are now embellishing other parts of the forest, to admire the splendour of which they walked on.' Having been thus informed by them, the king, as he eagerly desired to witness the sportive sayings and doings of the royal wives, how they were laughing and jesting free and unrestrained, rose from his couch, and accompanied by his female warriors bearing his umbrella, his chowrie, his upper garment, and his sword, and followed by the eunuchs of his zenana, wearing their armour and having reed-staves in their hands, he marched through the forest after them. It was easy to follow the way they had taken; for they had traced it out with juvenile wantonness by means of a multitude of various blossoms, flower-clusters, and twigs, which they had strewed about, moreover by the red sap of the areca-nut and betel chewed by them. So then, going after them he went to the hermitage. But no sooner had the king seen that most excellent Rishi Kshântivâdin surrounded by the circle of the royal wives, than he was seized with a fit of wrath. This frenzy overtook him, partly because he was long since his enemy and bore him a grudge[195], partly in consequence of his intellect being still troubled by drunkenness and his mind overcome with jealousy. And as his power of composing himself was small, he lost his countenance, disregarding the laws of decency and politeness, and submitted to sinful wrath. So his colour altered, drops of sweat appeared on his face, his limbs trembled, his brows frowned, and his eyes tinged reddish, squinted, rolled, stared. The loveliness, grace, and beauty of his figure had waned. He pressed his hands together, and rubbing them, squeezing thereby his finger-rings and shaking his golden armlets, scolded that excellent Rishi, uttering many invectives: 'Ha, he exclaimed,
30. 'Who is that knave who injures our majesty, casting his eyes on our wives? Under the disguise of a Muni this hypocrite acts like a fowler.'
These words alarmed and disturbed the eunuchs, who said to the king: 'Your Majesty ought not to speak so. This is a Muni who has purified his Self by a long life of vows and restraints and penance; Kshântivâdin is his name.' Nevertheless the king, in the pervertedness of his mind, did not take to heart their words, and continued: 'Alas! Ah!
31. 'So it is then a long time already since this hypocrite, setting himself up as the foremost of holy ascetics, has deceived people by his forgery!
'Well, then, I will lay open the true nature of that hypocrite, though he keeps it veiled with his ascetic's dress and well conceals it by practising the art of delusion and false godliness.' After thus speaking, he took his sword from the hand of the female guard (who was bearing it) and rushed on the holy Rishi with the determination of striking him, as if he were his rival. The royal wives, who had been informed by their attendants of the king's approach, on seeing his fine features changed by anger, became much afflicted, and with anxious looks expressive of their trouble and consternation rose from the earth, and took leave of the holy Rishi. Then they went to meet the king, and as they stood near him with their folded hands lifted up to their face, they had the appearance of an assemblage of lotuses in autumn, when the brightness of the flowers begins to peep out of the enclosure of the buds.
32. Yet their graceful demeanour, their modesty and comeliness did not appease his mind incensed with the fire of wrath.
But the queens who commenced already to recover from their first terror, perceiving that the king in the fierce manner of one whose behaviour is altered by anger was marching with a weapon in the direction of the holy Rishi, on whom he kept fixed his adverse looks, placed themselves in his way, and surrounding him entreated him: 'Your Majesty, pray, do not commit a reckless act, do not, pray. This man is the Reverend Kshântivâdin.' The king, however, owing to his heart's wickedness, became the more angry, thinking: 'Surely, he has already gained their affection.' He reproved their temerity in requesting by clear signs (of his discontent), frowning and casting on them angry looks, fierce as the jealousy which had taken possession of his mind. After which, turning to his eunuchs and shaking his head so that his royal diadem and ear-rings trembled, he said with a glance at his wives:
33. 'This man speaks only of forbearance, but he does not practise it. For example, he was not impassible to the covetousness of the contact with females.
34. 'His tongue does not at all agree with his actions, still less with his ill-intentioned heart. What has this man with unrestrained senses to do in the penance-forest, that he should simulate religious vows and dress and sit down in the hypocritical posture of a saint?'
Now, the king in his fit of wrath having thus rebuked his queens and shown his hard-heartedness, they were affected with sorrow and sadness, for they knew his ferocious nature and his contumacy which made him inaccessible to persuasion. The eunuchs, who were likewise alarmed, affected with anxiety, and afflicted, made signs to them with their hands that they should withdraw. So they went away, lowering their faces with shame and lamenting over that best of Rishis.
35. 'We are the cause of the king's wrath against that sinless and self-subdued holy ascetic, wide-famed for his virtues. Who knows what will be the end of it? In one way or other will the king perform some unbecoming deed, when he will make his wrath fall down on him, however virtuous.
36. Yea, this king would be able to destroy his own royal behaviour and his glory obtained by it, hurting the body of that Muni, as well as the body of his penance, and grieving our guiltless minds at the same time!'
After the queens thus lamenting and sighing on his account—for what could they else do for him?—were gone, the king in wrath came up to the holy Rishi, threatening him with drawn sword, in order to strike him himself. On seeing that the Great Being, though thus assailed, kept his calmness unchanged with imperturbable constancy, he became the more excited, and said to him:
37. 'How skilled he is in playing the holy one, that he looks even at me as if he were a Muni, persisting in his guileful arrogance!'
The Bodhisattva, however, owing to his constant practice of forbearance, was not at all disturbed, and as he at once understood from that hostile proceeding, though not without astonishment, that it was the eagerness of wrath which caused the king to act in such an unbecoming way that he had thrown off all restraint of politeness and good manners and lost the faculty of distinguishing between his good and evil, he pitied that monarch and, with the object of appeasing him, said, in truth, something like this:
38. 'Meeting with disrespect is nothing strange in this world; for this reason, since it may also happen to be the effect of destiny and guilt, I do not mind it. But this grieves me that I cannot perform towards you, not even with my voice, the usual kind reception, due to those who come to me.
'Moreover hear this, O sovereign.
39. 'To such as you, who are bound to put evildoers on the right way and to act for the interest of the creatures, it never behoves to do any rash action. You should rather follow, therefore, the way of reflection.
40. 'Something good may be considered evil; inversely, something evil may appear in a false light. The truth about anything to be done cannot be discerned at once before inquiring by reasoning into the differences in the several modes of action.
41. 'But such a king as gets a true insight of his proper line of conduct by reflection and, after that, carries out his design with righteousness by the way of his policy, will always effect the thrift of dharma, artha and kâma in his people, nor will he be devoid of that threefold prosperity himself.
42. 'For this reason, you ought to purify your mind of rashness, and to be only intent on such actions as tend to good repute. In fact, transgressions of a decent behaviour are highly notorious, if they are committed by persons of a high rank in whom they were not seen before.
43. 'In a penance-forest protected by your mighty arm, you would not suffer anybody else, in truth, to do what is blamed by the pious and destructive to good behaviour. How is it that you should be decided to act in this way yourself, O king?
44. 'If your harem came perchance to my hermitage together with their male attendants, what fault of mine may be found there that you should allow yourself to be thus altered by wrath?
45. 'Suppose, however, there is here some fault of mine, forbearance would become you even then, my lord. Forbearance, indeed, is the chief ornament of a powerful one; for it betrays his cleverness in keeping (the treasury of) his virtues.
46. 'Kings cannot so much be adorned either by their dark-blue ear-rings with their reverberation of dancing shine on the cheeks, or by the several brilliant jewels of their head-ornament, as they are adorned by forbearance. Thus considering, pray, do not disregard that virtue.
47. 'Set aside irascibility which is never fit to be relied upon, but maintain forbearance (as carefully) as your dominions[196]. In truth, the lovely behaviour of princes showing their esteem to ascetics, is full of bliss.'
Notwithstanding this admonition by that excellent Muni, the king, troubled by the crookedness of his mind, persisted in his false suspicion. So he addressed him again:
48. 'If you are not a mock-ascetic, but really engaged in keeping your vow of restraint, for what reason then do you, under the pretext of exhorting me to forbearance, beg safety from my side[197]?'
The Bodhisattva answered: 'Hear then, great prince, for what reason I urged you.
49. 'I spoke so that your good renown might not break down under the blame you would incur because of me, if it were to be said of you "the king has killed a guiltless ascetic, a Brâhman."
50. 'Death is an invariable necessity for all creatures. For this reason I am not afraid of it, nor have I anything to fear, when I recollect my own behaviour.
51. 'But it was for your sake, that you should not suffer by injuring Righteousness, the source of happiness, that I praised forbearance to you as the fit instrument for attaining salvation.
52. 'Since it is a mine of virtues and an armour against vices, I gladly praise Forbearance, for it is an excellent boon, I offer you.'
But the king disdained these gentle flowers of speech which the Muni offered him. Scornfully he said to that foremost of Rishis: 'Let us now see your attachment to forbearance,' and so speaking, he directed his sharp sword to the right hand of the Muni, which was a little extended towards him, with a prohibitive gesture, having its very fine and long fingers upward, and severed it from his arm like a lotus from its stalk.
53. Yet the Bodhisattva did not feel so much pain, even after his hand had been cut off—so steadfast was he in keeping his vow of forbearance—as sorrow concerning the cutter, whose future misfortune he saw, which was to fall terrible and irremediable upon that person hitherto accustomed to pleasures.
And thinking within himself: 'Alas! he has transgressed the boundary of his good, he has ceased to be a person worth admonishing[198],' and commiserating him, as he would do a sick man given up by the doctors, he kept silent. But the king continued to speak threatening words to him.
54. 'And in this manner your body shall be cut to pieces until death. Desist from your hypocritical penance, and leave that villainous forgery.'
The Bodhisattva made no answer. He understood him to be deaf to admonition and had learnt his obstinacy. Then the king successively and in the same way cut off the other hand of the High-minded One, both his arms, his ears and nose, and his feet.
55. Yet that foremost of Munis did not feel sorrow or anger, when the sharp sword fell down on his body. His knowledge that the machinery of his body must eventually come to an end, and his habitual practice of forbearance against everybody made him so strong.
56. In consequence of its habitual friendliness, the mind of that virtuous one was inaccessible to the sense of sorrow on account of himself. Even while he saw his limbs being cut off, his forbearance remained unshaken, but that he saw the king fallen from Righteousness, made him sore with grief.
57. Verily, the compassionate who are great in retaining their tranquillity throughout are not so much afflicted by pain arising in themselves, as they grieve on account of the suffering of others.
58. But the king, after performing that cruel deed, was anon caught by a fire-like fever, and when he went out of the gardens, earth on a sudden opened and swallowed him.
After swallowing the king, the earth continued to make a fearful noise, and fiery flames appeared in the opening. This caused great consternation all around, and perplexed and alarmed the royal attendants. The king's ministers, knowing the grandeur of the penance-power of that Muni and imputing to it the catastrophe of the king, were affected with anxiety, lest that holy Rishi should burn down the whole country on account of the king. Thus apprehending, they went up to the holy Rishi, and bowing to him entreated him with folded hands to be propitious.
59. 'May that king, who impelled by his infatuated mind has put thee into this state by an exceedingly rash action, be alone the fuel for the fire of thy curse. Pray, do not burn his town!
60. 'Pray, do not destroy for his fault innocent people, women and children, the old and the sick, the Brâhmans and the poor! Rather shouldst thou, being a lover of virtues, preserve both the realm of that king and thy own righteousness.'
In reply to this, the Bodhisattva comforted them: 'Do not fear,' he said, 'sirs.
61, 62. 'As to that king who just cut off with his sword my hands and feet, my ears and nose, maiming an innocent ascetic living in the forest, how should a person like me aim at his hurt or conceive even such a thought? May that king live long and no evil befall him!
63. 'A being subject to sorrow, death and sickness, subdued by cupidity and hatred, consumed by his evil actions is a person to be pitied. Who ought to get angry with such a one?
64. 'And should that line of conduct[199] be ever so preferable, O that his sin might ripen (its unavoidable result) in detriment of no other but me! For to people accustomed to pleasure meeting with suffering, even for a short time, is keen and unbearable.
65. 'But now, as I am unable to protect that king who annihilated in this manner his own happiness, for what reason should I give up that state of powerlessness of myself and indulge in hatred against him?
66. 'Even without a king's intervention, everybody born has to deal with sufferings, arising from death, &c. Therefore in this (series of evils), it is birth alone which one has to oppose[200]. For this not being, what suffering may there arise and from whence?
67. 'For many kalpas I have lost my worthless body in manifold ways in numbers of existences. How is it that I should give up forbearance on account of the destruction of that frame? Would it not be as if I were to give up a jewel of the first water for a straw?
68. 'Dwelling in the forest, bound to my vow of world-renunciation, a preacher of forbearance and soon a prey to death, how should I feel the desire of revenge? Do not fear me any longer, then, peace be to you, go!'
69. After thus instructing and at the same time admitting them as disciples in the Lore of the pious, that foremost of Munis, who kept his constancy unshaken owing to his relying on forbearance, left his earthly residence and mounted to Heaven.
So then, indeed, to those who have wholly imbibed the virtue of forbearance and are great in keeping their tranquillity there is nothing unbearable. [Thus is to be said when discoursing on the virtue of forbearance, taking the Muni for example. On account of the vices of rashness and wrath, taking the king for example, this story is also to be told, and when expounding the miserable consequences of sensual pleasures, saying: 'In this manner sensual pleasures lead a man to become addicted to wicked behaviour which brings him into ruin.' It may also be told with the object of showing the inconstancy of material prosperity.]