This story is also extant in the Avadânakalpalatâ, in pallava 38, as appears from the Anukramanî, verse 15 (yah kshântisîlah sântyâbhûk khinnângo 'py avikâravân), but this part of the work has as yet not been published nor is it found in the Cambridge MSS.
Since the tenets of unbelief are blameable, those who are possessed by the vice of clinging to a false belief are especially worth commiserating by the virtuous. This will be taught as follows.
One time the Bodhisattva, our Lord, having gathered by a constant practice of dhyâna a store of good karma, obtained, it is said, a birth in the Brahmaloka, in consequence of the ripening of that merit. Nevertheless, owing to his having always been conversant with commiseration in his former existences, that high happiness of the Brahmaloka, which he had obtained as the effect of the excellence of his dhyâna, did not destroy in him his longing for the task of benefiting others.
1. By indulging in sensual pleasures, however material, worldly people become utterly careless. But a frequent absorption in the delight of meditation, however ideal, does not hide the desire for benefiting others from (the mind of) the pious.
Now one time it happened that the High-minded One was passing his looks over the Region of Sensuality[201] below (his Brahma-world), where Compassion finds its proper sphere of action, since this is the region visited by hundreds of different forms of sufferings and calamities, and containing the elements for moral illnesses, disasters, injuries against living beings, and sensual pleasures. And he perceived the king of Videha, named Aṅgadinna, erring in the wilderness of a wrong belief, partly by the fault of his intercourse with bad friends, partly also in consequence of his being ardently attached to false thoughts. That king had got this persuasion: 'there is no other world after this; how could there be anything like result ripening out of good or evil actions?' and in conformity with this belief his longing for religious practices was extinguished, he was averse to performing the pious works of charity, good conduct (sîla), &c., felt a deep-rooted contempt for such as led a religious life, and owing to his want of faith, bore ill-will to the religious law-books. Being inclined to laugh at tales concerning the other world, and showing but little respect and honour to Sramanas and Brâhmans, whom he held in little esteem, he was exclusively given up to sensual pleasures.
2. He who is firm in the belief 'surely, there is a world hereafter where good and evil karma produce their fruit of happiness and mishap,' such a one will avoid evil actions and exert himself to cultivate pious ones. But by absence of faith a man follows his desires.
Now that king, whose disastrous attachment to a false lore must have mischievous consequences and become a source of calamities to his people, roused the compassion of that High-minded Devarshi. One time, when that king, always directed by his indulgence in sensual pleasures, was staying in a beautiful and lonely arbour, he descended in his flaming brilliancy from the Brahma-world before his eyes. On beholding that luminous being who blazed like a mass of fire, shone like an agglomeration of lightnings, and spread about a great brilliancy of intense light like a collection of sun-rays, the king, overwhelmed by that lustre, was alarmed and rose from his seat to meet him reverently with folded hands. Respectfully he looked up to him (who stood in the air) and said:
3. 'The sky makes thee a resting-place for thy feet, as if it were the earth, O thou being with lotus-like feet; thou shinest far and wide, bearing the lustre of the sun, so to speak. Who art thou, whose form is a delight to the eyes?'
The Bodhisattva replied:
4. 'Know me, O king, one of those Devarshis who attained Brahma's world, having by the power of their mind's strong and assiduous attachment to religion vanquished love and hatred[202], those two proud foes, like two haughty chiefs of a hostile army in battle.'
After these words the king offered him the hospitable reception due to a worthy guest, water to wash his feet and the arghya-water[203], accompanying this act (of homage) with kind words of welcome and the like. Then, casting admiring looks at his face, he said: 'Very wonderful, O Great Rishi, is thy figure. Indeed, thy power is supernatural.
5. 'Without clinging to the walls of a building, thou walkest in the sky as easily as on earth. Tell me, O thou whose brightness has the lustre of a flash of lightning, how didst thou obtain this supernatural power?'
The Bodhisattva spoke:
6. 'Such superhuman power is the result, O king, of meditation (dhyâna), spotless good conduct (sîla), and an excellent restraint of the senses, which I have so practised in other existences that they became essential elements of my nature.'
The king said: 'Does there exist in earnest anything like a world hereafter?' The Brahman[204] said: 'Verily, Your Majesty, there is a world hereafter.' The king said: 'But, my dear sir, how should I too be able to believe so?' The Bodhisattva said: 'This is a tangible truth, Your Majesty, which may be proved by reasoning with the ordinary modes of proof (pramâna): perception by the senses and the rest[205]. It is exemplified by the declarations of reliable persons, and may be tested by the method of accurate examination. Do but consider this:
7. 'The heaven, with its ornament of sun, moon and stars, and the many-shaped variety of animals, are the world hereafter in a concrete and visible form. Let not thy mind be benumbed by scepticism so as not to perceive this truth.
8. 'Further there are now and then persons who, owing to their practice of dhyâna and the vividness of their memory, remember their former existences. From this it must likewise be inferred, there exists a world after this. And myself, do I not give thee the evidence of a witness?
9. 'Moreover, thou must infer its existence also from this. The perfection of the intellect presupposes a previous existence of that intellect. The rudimentary intellect of the fetus is the uninterrupted continuation of the intellect in the preceding existence.
10. 'Further, it is the faculty for catching matter of knowledge that is called intellect (buddhi). Therefore there must be a sphere of employment for the intellect at the beginning of existence[206]. But it is not possible to find it in this world, because of the absence of the eyes and the other (organs of sense). By inference, the place where it is to be found, is the other world.
11. 'It is known by experience that children diverge from the nature of their fathers and show discrepancies of conduct and the like. Now, since this fact cannot arise without a cause, it follows that we have to do here with habits acquired in other existences.
12, 13. 'That the new-born child, though his mental powers are wholly rude and his organs of sense in a torpid state, makes an effort to take the breast without being instructed so and almost in a state of deep sleep, this proves his having in former existences exercised himself as to the fit ways of taking his food. For practice, perfecting the mind, sharpens its faculty for acquiring knowledge for different special performances.
'Perhaps, since thou art not accustomed to the idea of the existence of another world, thou mayst still be doubtful about the last statement. (Should this be the case and shouldst thou reason in this way:)
14. '"Then the lotuses shutting and opening themselves are also a proof, indeed, of their having already practised those movements in other existences. Otherwise, this not being admitted, why dost thou affirm that the suckling's effort of taking the breast is the effect of exertion made in previous births?"
'then thou art obliged to put aside that doubt by the consideration that in one case there is compulsion, in the other freedom, and exertion is not made there, but that it is made here.
15. 'In the case of the lotuses, their opening and shutting depend on time, but the effort to take the breast not so. Moreover, there is no exertion in the lotus, but in the case of the suckling it is evident there is. It is the power of the sun that is the cause of the lotuses expanding.
'In this manner, then, Your Majesty, by a close and careful examination it is possible to have faith in the world hereafter.'
But the king, as he was deeply attached to the false lore he professed, also because the extent of his sin was large, felt uneasy on hearing that account of the other world, and spoke: 'Why, great Rishi,
16. 'If the next world is not that (well-known) bugbear for children, or if thou judgest it fit for me to believe in it, well, lend me five hundred nishkas[207] here, and I shall give thee back one thousand in the next existence.'
Now when the king, according to his habitual boldness, had uttered without scruple this unbecoming language, which was as it were the vomiting of the poison of his wrong belief, the Bodhisattva answered him in a very proper way.
17. 'Still in this world those who wish to employ their money, in order to augment it, do not make any loan at all to a wicked person or a glutton or a blockhead or a sluggard. For wealth going to such persons, tends to their ruin.
18. 'But if they see one bashful, with thoroughly subdued senses, and skilled in business, to such a one they offer a loan, even unwitnessed. Such a bestowal of money produces bliss.
19. 'The very same line of conduct must be followed, O king, with respect to a debt payable in the world hereafter. But it is not suitable to contract such a loan with thee who art a person of a wicked behaviour because of the evil doctrine thou professest.
20. 'For, at the time when, being precipitated into hell by thy own cruel actions originating in the sin of a wicked lore, thou wilt lie there, sore with pains and paralysed in thy mental powers, who would then call upon thee for a debt of one thousand nishkas?
21. 'There the regions of the sky do not shine in their full feminine beauty[208] by the beams of sun and moon, the destroyers of their veil of darkness. Nor is the firmament there seen with its ornament of crowds of stars, like a lake embellished by unclosed waterlilies.
22. 'The place where the unbelievers dwell in the next world, is encompassed with thick darkness, and an icy wind prevails there, penetrating to the very bones and extremely painful. Who, being wise, would enter that hell in order to obtain money?
23. 'Some wander for a long time on the bottom of the hell, which is wrapt in dense obscurity and dull with pungent smoke; they are afflicted there, drawing along their rags fastened with leather thongs, and crying with pain as often as they tumble over each other.
24. 'Likewise others are running with wounded feet again and again in all directions in the Hell Gvalatkukûla [ = Flaming Chaff], longing for deliverance from thence, but they do not attain the end of their sin nor of their life.
25. 'Terrible servants of Yama carve like carpenters the limbs of others, having them fastened in different manners, and delight in shaping them by cutting with sharp knives, as if they wrought in fresh timber.
26. 'Others again are entirely stripped off their skin, groaning with pain, or are even bereaved of their flesh, living skeletons, but they cannot die, kept alive by their own evil actions. Likewise others who are cut to pieces.
27. 'Others draw flaming chariots for a long time. They wear broad flaming bits in their mouth and submit to harnesses and goads of a tawny hue, being fiery. The grounds on which they draw are of iron, heated by an unceasing fire.
28. 'Some have their bodies crushed, when they meet mount Samghâta[209], and ground to dust by its incursion; nevertheless, even in that great suffering of the most intense degree, they cannot die before their evil karma is annihilated.
29. 'Some others are being ground to dust with big and flaming brazen pestles in troughs incandescent by fire during a succession of full five hundred years, and yet they do not lose life.
30. 'Others again are hanging with their heads or even feet to trees made red-hot like corals and of a rough surface, being beset with flaming thorns of sharp iron. They are beaten by demons, attendants of Yama, who chide them with harsh cries.
31. 'Others enjoy the fruit of their conduct, lying on large heaps of burning coals, flaming and resembling molten gold. (Helpless) they are exposed to their fate, they can do nothing but lie and moan.
32. 'Some howl with their tongues hanging out of their mouths, while their bodies are overcome by heavy pains caused by hundreds of sharp spears on a ground illuminated by garlands of flames rising out of it. In that time they are made to believe that there exists something like a world beyond this.
33. 'There are others whose heads are encircled with flaming diadems of brass; others are boiled out in pots of brass. Of others the bodies are wounded by sharp stings of showers of weapons, and devoured by crowds of ferocious animals, who gnaw them off to the bones.
34. 'Others again, exhausted by toil, enter the salt water of the Vaitaranî, but that water is painful to touch like fire, and their flesh wastes away from their limbs, when in it, but not their life, kept up by their evil actions.
35. 'And those who afflicted because of the intense torment caused by burning, have resorted to (the hell named) Asukikunapa [the hell of unclean corpses] as to a pond of fresh water, meet there with unparalleled pain. Their bones are brought to decomposition by hundreds of worms.
36. 'Elsewhere others undergo the pain of being burnt for a long time. Surrounded by fire, their bodies flame like iron staves surrounded by flames. Yet they do not burn to ashes, being kept alive by their actions.
37. 'There is sawing of others with fiery saws, cutting of others with sharp razors. Of others the heads are crushed with hammers quickly swung, so as to make them yell with anguish. There is roasting on a smokeless fire of others, fixed on broad iron-spits which pierce through their bodies. Others again are compelled to drink liquid brass looking like blazing fire, which makes them utter raw cries.
38. 'Some are assailed by spotted dogs of great strength who with their sharp-biting teeth tear off the flesh from their limbs; they fall on the ground with lacerated bodies, crying loudly with pain.
39. 'Of such a nature are the tremendous torments in the different hells. If thou, impelled by thy karma, shalt once have reached that state[210], who then would think of calling upon thee for that debt at that time, while thou art sore with sorrow and thy mind is afflicted with exhaustion and sadness?
40. 'It may happen that thou art staying in the hell of brazen jars filled with the corpses of wicked people and hard to approach because of the fire-flames, which heat them and make thee move helplessly exposed to the suffering of being boiled. Who then would think of calling upon thee for that debt at that time?
41. 'Or thou mayst lie with tied limbs on flaming iron pins or on the earth made red-hot by a blazing fire. While thou wilt be weeping piteously, thy body burning away, who then would think of calling upon thee for that debt at that time?
42. 'Who would require that debt from thee, when thou wilt have reached that wretched state of humiliation, undergoing terrible sufferings and not even able to make any answer?
43. 'Or suppose thy bones to be pierced by the icy wind which destroys even the power of groaning, or thy voice uttering roaring cries of pain, when thou wilt be torn asunder, who would dare ask thee for that money in the other world?
44. 'Or, if rather thou wert to be exposed to the injuries of Yama's attendants, or to lie in the midst of fiery flames, or if dogs and crows were to feast on thy flesh and blood, who would urge thee with a call for money in the other world?
45. 'Besides, when thou wert to undergo an uninterrupted torture by striking or cutting or beating or cleaving, by burning or carving or grinding or splitting, in short, by the most different modes of tearing up (thy body), how shouldst thou be able to give back that debt to me at that time?'
This extremely fearful account of the hells missed not its effect upon the king. Hearing it, he became alarmed and left his attachment to the false lore. And having obtained faith in the world hereafter, he bowed to that illustrious Rishi and spoke:
46. 'After being apprised of the tortures in the different hells, my mind almost dissolves from fear, on the other hand I feel a burning sense of anxiety, considering how I may take shelter from that terrible pain.
47. 'For, short-sighted as I was, I walked on the wrong road, my mind being perverted by a wicked doctrine. Now then, let Thy Reverence be my guide here. Thou knowest the right way. Thou art my authority and my refuge, O Muni.
48. 'As the rising sun dispels darkness, so thou hast dispelled the darkness of my false opinions. In the very same manner, O Rishi, thou must teach me the road, going on which I may not attain misery after death.'
Then the Bodhisattva, perceiving his emotion and understanding that he had changed his opinion for the better and had now become a vessel fit for accepting the Law, instructed him—for he pitied him, like a father his son or a teacher his pupil—in this way.
49. 'The glorious way leading to Heaven, is that by which the old kings went, who displayed their love of virtues, behaving like good pupils towards Sramanas and Brâhmans, and manifested their compassion for their subjects by their own behaviour[211].
50. 'Therefore, subdue injustice which is very difficult to subdue, and overcome vile covetousness which is very difficult to overcome! So thou mayst mount a luminous being to the city of the Lord of Heaven, that city with golden gates resplendent with the most excellent jewels.
51. 'May thy approval of the lore cherished by the virtuous, and which thou acceptedst in a mind accustomed to a wicked lore, be steadfast. Renounce the latter, which is a system of injustice proclaimed by people intent on gratifying the fools.
52. 'For thou hast taken the (right) road, O king, now, in that very moment, when desiring to walk on it with the pious behaviour prescribed by the True Lore, thou destroyedst within thy heart the harsh feeling against virtues.
53. 'Let, therefore, thy wealth be an instrument for obtaining virtues, and to thy people exercise mercy, which is an auspicious thing and will increase thine own happiness. Be also constant in keeping the excellent restraint of senses and good conduct. In this way thou mayst incur no calamity in the next world.
54. 'Let thy rule, O king, derive its entire brilliancy from the lustre of thy meritorious actions; let it be relied upon by those who practise good actions, and be lovely by its purity. So ruling thou wilt strive for thy true happiness together with thy material interest, and exterminate the anguish of the creatures, increasing thereby thy glory in a lovely manner.
55. 'Thou art here (on earth) standing on thy royal war-chariot. Let worship of the pious be thy charioteer. Let thy own body, engendering virtues, be thy chariot. Let friendliness be its axle, self-restraint and charity its wheels, and the earnest desire for gathering merit its axletree.
56. 'Control thy horses, the organs of sense, with that splendid bridle named attentiveness. Make prudence thy goad and take thy weapons from the store of sacred learning. Let shame be the furniture of thy chariot, humility its lovely pole, forbearance its yoke. (Standing on that chariot,) thou wilt drive it skilfully, if thou art firm in courageous self-command.
57. 'By keeping down bad words thou wilt make it go without rattling of the wheels; if thou usest lovely language, the sound of them will be grave and deep. Never breaking thy self-restraint will preserve thy chariot from looseness of its constituent parts. Thou wilt keep the right direction, if thou avoidest going astray on the winding paths of wicked actions.
58. 'Using this vehicle (yâna), brilliant with the lustre of wisdom, adorned by the flag of good renown and the high-floating banner of tranquillity, and followed by mercy as its attendance, thou wilt move in the direction of the Highest Âtman (paramâtmâ) and never shalt thou descend to the infernal regions, O king.'
Having thus dispelled by the brilliant beams of his words that darkness of false lore that lay upon the mind of the king, and shown him clearly the road to happiness, the High-minded One disappeared on the spot. But the king, having got a thorough knowledge concerning the matters of the next world, embraced the True Lore with his whole heart, and himself as well as his officials, his townsmen, and landsmen became intent on exercising charity, self-command, and self-restraint.
In this manner, then, those who are possessed by the vice of clinging to a false belief are especially worth commiserating by the virtuous; for the tenets of unbelief are blameable. [This story may also be adduced with this conclusion: 'In this manner listening to the preaching of the Excellent Law (saddharma), fills up with overflowing faith.' Or with this: 'In this manner hearing the Law preached by another, rouses faith productive of right belief.' And when adducing it in a discourse on praise of the virtuous, likewise on the subject of forbearance, this is to be said: 'In this manner the virtuous will parry even a hostile attack by counselling their enemy for his good, and they will do so without harshness in consequence of their being accustomed to forbearance.' Also when treating of samvega[212], it is to be said: 'In this manner emotion of the mind makes a man inclined to care for his salvation.']
Of this Gâtaka no Pâli recension has been edited as yet, nor am I aware of its occurring in other texts of the Northern Buddhists. Yet, at least stanza 16, which contains the pointe of the tale, must be founded on some old traditional verse, one of those sacred sayings, of which the Gâtaka-class of the Holy Writ is made up.
If they may cause by it the happiness of others, even pain is highly esteemed by the righteous, as if it were gain. This will be taught by the following.
Once the Bodhisattva, it is said, was a huge elephant. He had his residence in some forest suitable for elephants, which had for its ornament, so to speak, the young offshoots of its excellent trees, whose tops were conspicuous by their twigs, flowers, and fruits. Its bottom was hidden under manifold kinds of shrubs and trees and grasses. It was beset with mountain-ridges and plateaus that made the effect, as if they were detained there by the charming beauty of the forest and would not long for another place. That wood was the abode of forest-animals, and contained a lake of abundant and deep water. It was far remote from the habitations of men, being surrounded on all sides by a large desert, where there was no tree, no shrub, no water. There he lived a solitary elephant.
1. Like an ascetic he stayed there, pleased with leaves of the trees, lotus-stalks and water, and with the virtues of contentment and tranquillity.
Now one time, when the Great Being was wandering near the border of that forest, it happened that he heard a noise of people from the side of the wilderness. Then this thought entered his mind: 'What may this be? First of all, there is in this direction no road leading to any country; nor is it likely, a hunting-party should have crossed a wilderness so large as this. Still less can there be question of an attempt to catch my fellow-elephants, on account of the heavy toil with which it would be attended.
2, 3. 'Surely, this people are either astray, their guides having lost their way, or have been banished in consequence of a king's anger or of their own misconduct. Such is the nature of the noise I hear, which is not made up of the strong tones of joy, cheerfulness, and merriment, but rather low-spirited sounds, as of people weeping under the overwhelming power of a great grief.
'At all events, I will know what it really is.' Thus reflecting, the Great Being impelled by his compassion, hastened forward in the direction from whence the noise of that multitude came. When he heard more distinctly those sad and piteous accents of lamentation, unpleasant to the ears, the High-minded One, understanding that they were cries for help uttered by people in distress, ran with still greater swiftness, his mind being filled with the yearning of compassion. After leaving the thicket, owing to the naked desert destitute of vegetation, he saw already from afar that body of persons who cried for assistance, keeping their eyes in the direction of the forest. They numbered seven hundred men, and were exhausted with hunger, thirst, and fatigue. And those men, on the other hand, saw the Great Being coming up to them, resembling a moving peak of a snow-covered mountain, or a condensed mass of white fog, or an autumn-cloud driven towards them by a strong wind; and as they were overcome with sorrow and utterly dejected, this sight frightened them much. In their fear they thought: 'Alas! now we are certainly lost!' but they could make no effort to run away; hunger, thirst, and fatigue had destroyed their energy.
4. Powerless by hunger, thirst, and fatigue, and being in low spirits, they made no preparations for flight, though the peril seemed imminent.
The Bodhisattva perceiving their anxiety, exclaimed: 'Be not afraid! Be not afraid! You have nothing to fear from my part,' and so comforting them, drew nigh, uplifting his trunk and showing its tip broad, soft, and dark-red as copper. Moved by compassion he asked them: 'Who are you, sirs, and how are you come to this state?
5. 'Your pale faces betray the effect of dust and sun, meagre you are and suffering from sorrow and dejection of mind. Who are you and by what cause have you come here?'
On hearing him utter in a human voice these words not only indicative of a peaceful disposition, but of the desire to succour, the men recovered their confidence, and the whole assembly bowed to him. Then they spoke:
6. 'An outburst of the king's anger blew us away to this region from the very eyes of our kinsmen, who sorrowful must behold that banishment, O lord of elephants.
7. 'Yet, forsooth, there must be still some remnant of our good fortune and some favour of Fortune towards us that we have drawn the attention of Thee, who art better than friends and kinsmen.
8. 'By the auspicious sight of Thee we know we have crossed our calamity. Who, in truth, having seen even in his dreams such a being as Thee, would not be saved from distress?'
Then that eminent elephant spoke: 'Well, how many are you, sirs?' The men said:
9, 10. 'We numbered one thousand men, O fair-figured being, when the king left us here, but many of us, being unacquainted with adversity, have perished overcome by hunger, thirst, and sorrow. And now, O lord of elephants, we estimate the number of those still alive to be seven hundred, who being about to sink down in the mouth of Death, look up to Thee as the embodied Comfort come to us to help.'
By these words the Great Being, as he was in the habit of compassion, was moved to tears, and commiserating them said, to be sure, something like this: 'Alas! alas!
11. 'Oh! How averse to tenderness, how devoid of shame, how little anxious about the next world the mind of that king is! Oh! How his senses, caught by his royal splendour, something as fickle as lightning, are blind to his good!
12. 'Oh! He does not understand that Death is near, I suppose, nor has he been taught the unhappy end of wickedness! Alas! Oh! Those poor and helpless kings who, owing to the weakness of their judgment, are impatient of listening to words (of counsel).
13. 'And, verily, this cruelty towards living beings is performed on account of one single body, a perishable substratum of illnesses[213]! Alas! Fie upon ignorance!'
Now, while letting his eyes full of pity and tenderness go over that people, this thought appeared to the chief of elephants: 'Being so tortured by hunger, thirst and fatigue, and their bodies having become so weak, how may they overcome that wilderness of an extent of many yoganas, where they find neither water nor shade, unless they have wholesome food? Nor does the forest of elephants contain proper food for them, not even for one day, without much trouble. Nevertheless, if they were to take their provisions from the flesh of my limbs and to use my bowels instead of bags, putting water in them, they would be able to cross this desert; not otherwise.
14. 'Let me, therefore, in their behalf employ my body, the abode of many hundreds of illnesses, that it may be for this multitude of men overwhelmed by suffering, like a raft to get across their misery.
15. 'Being born a man is the proper state for reaching happiness, either heavenly bliss or final extinction, and it is difficult to attain that state. May then this advantage not be dissolved to them!
16. 'Further, since they are come within the compass of my dominion, I rightly may call them my guests. And they are in distress and destitute of relations; hence I have to show the more pity to them.
17. 'And this vessel of many infirmities, this substratum of manifold toil caused by everlasting illness, this assemblage of evils, whose name is "body," will now, after a long time, have at last its proper employment, serving to relieve others.'
Then some of them, who suffered intensely from the pain of hunger, thirst, fatigue, and heat, after bowing to him with folded hands and eyes wet with tears, in the manner of supplicants, asked him for water by means of signs with their hands. Others spoke to him piteous words:
18. 'To us who are destitute of kindred, Thou art a kinsman, Thou art our recourse and refuge. Deign to shelter us in such a way as Thou deemest best, Illustrious One!'
Others again who had more energy of mind, asked him to show them some place where to find water and the way to get out of that dreadful desert.
19, 20. 'If there is here some pond or river with cold water, or perhaps some waterfall, if a shady tree may be found here on a grass-plot, tell it us, O chief of elephants. And since thou thinkest it possible to get out of this desert, show us mercy and point out the direction to us.
'It is a good many days that we have been staying in this wilderness. For this reason, pray make us, O lord, get across it.'
Then the High-minded One who felt his heart growing still more wet with pity by their piteous requests, uplifting his trunk as big as the coils of a mighty serpent, showed them the mountain, beyond which they could make their escape from the wilderness, and spoke: 'Underneath this mountain there is a large lake adorned with lotuses, white and red, and containing pure water. Go, therefore, by this way. With the water of that lake ye may quench your thirst, and dispel your fatigue and (the vexation of) heat. Then, continuing your way, not far from that place ye will meet with the corpse of an elephant, fallen down the mountain-plateau. The flesh of its limbs ye must take to serve for provisions on the journey, and provide yourselves with water, putting it in its bowels instead of bags; after which ye have to go farther in the very same direction. So ye will overcome this wilderness without much hardship.' With such comforting language the High-minded One induced them to set out, but himself, running quickly by another way, ascended to the top of that mountain. Standing there, about to give up his own body for the purpose of rescuing that body of people, he strengthened his determination[214], truly, by representing to his mind something like this.
21. 'This performance does not tend to the attainment of a high state for myself, neither the magnificence of a king of men, the possessor of the royal umbrella, nor Heaven with the singular flavour of its surpassing enjoyments, nor the bliss of Brahma's world, nor even the happiness of release[215];
22. 'But if there be any merit of mine in thus striving to help those men lost in the wilderness, may I become by it the Saviour of the World, of those creatures erring in the wilderness of Samsâra!'
Having thus resolved, and not minding because of his gladness, the painful death he would suffer by being crushed down that deep descent, the High-minded One gave up his body according to his design by precipitating himself down that steep mountain.
23. While falling, he shone like an autumn-cloud or like the moon sinking with reversed disc behind the mountain of setting, or like the snow-cover of the peak of that mountain, cast down by the violent swiftness of the wind moved by the wings of Garuda.
24. With the heavy noise of a whirlwind he precipitated himself, shaking not only the earth and the mountains, but the mind of Mâra possessed by the infatuation of sovereignty[216]. And in his fall, he bent both the forest-creepers and the forest-deities.
25. No doubt, on that occasion the Celestials, residing about that forest, were affected with the utmost astonishment. From the ecstasy of their gladness the hairs on their body bristled, and they swung their arms in the sky, their fine fingers turned upwards.
26. Some overspread him with a thick shower of flowers sweet-scented and tinged with sandal-powder. Others covered him with their upper garments, wrought of (celestial) unwoven stuff and resplendent with golden decorations; others with their ornaments.
27. Others again worshipped him with hymns they had devoutly composed, and with the reverence of the añgali, their folded hands resembling opening lotus-buds. Or they honoured him with bent heads, lowering their beautiful head-diadems, and with prayers of veneration.
28. Some fanned him with an agreeable wind, such as arranges garlands (of foam) on the waves and is perfumed with the scents borrowed from the dust of flowers. Others held a canopy of dense clouds in the sky over his head.
29. Some were prompted by devotion to make Heaven echo his praise with the sounds of the celestial drums. And more, others enamelled the trees with an untimely outburst of new twigs, flowers, and fruits.
30. The sky assumed the lovely splendour of autumn, the sun's rays seemed to become longer, and the Ocean trembled and shook its wave-surface as from impatience to go and visit him out of gladness.
Meanwhile those men, following the way pointed out to them, had reached the lake; and after refreshing themselves and recovering from heat, thirst, and fatigue, going on as the High-minded One had instructed them, they saw at no great distance from that place the body of an elephant that had died not long before. And they reflected: 'What a strong likeness this elephant has to that chief of elephants!
31. 'Is he perhaps a brother to that mighty being, or some kinsman of his, or one of his sons? In fact, it is the self-same beautiful figure equalling a snow-peak that we behold in this body, even though it be crushed.
32. 'It looks like a condensation of the lustre of many groups of waterlilies, like the concrete form of moonshine, or rather like His image, reflected in a mirror.'
But some among them who had a keener judgment of the matter began to reflect thus: 'As far as we see, this animal, whose surpassing beauty rivals the elephants of the world-quarters, is that very elephant, indeed, who has thrown himself from this plateau, in order that He might save us from distress who are without relations and friends.' (And having understood so, they said:)
33. 'That noise we heard, as of a whirlwind, as of an earthquake, was caused by His fall, to be sure.
34. 'This body, in truth, is His. It has the same yellowish-white hue of a lotus-root, and is covered with similar hairs as white as moonbeams and adorned with fine spots. These are the same tortoise-like feet with white nails. And this is the same backbone gracefully curved in the guise of a bow.
35. 'Also this is the same face long and full, embellished by the furrows of his wind-perfuming juice. And this is the same head, tall, auspicious, never touched by a driver's goad, standing on a strong neck.
36. 'This is the same couple of tusks of a honey-colour; they boastingly bear the token (of his glory), being covered with the red dust of the mountain-slope. And this is that trunk with long, finger-like tip, wherewith He showed us this way.
'Oh! This is, in truth, a wonder of surpassing strangeness!
37. 'Ah! So great a friendship has He shown to us, without first inquiring into our family, our conduct and faith, to us broken by misfortunes and never heard of by Him before! How great must His goodness be for His friends and relations!
'In every way veneration be to Him, that Illustrious One!
38. 'Assisting the likes of us, distressed people, overcome with fear and sorrow and desponding, He, bearing the shape of an elephant, holds up, as it were, the sinking behaviour of the pious[217].
39. 'Where has He been taught this extraordinary propitiousness? At the feet of what teacher may He have sat in the forest? The popular saying: 'no beauty of figure pleases without virtues' is exemplified in Him.
40. 'Oh! How He has manifested by the splendid loftiness of His nature the auspiciousness to be expected of (his auspicious figure)! Verily, even in His dead body, His self-satisfaction appears in His complexion shining like the Snow-mountain, as though it laughed with joy!
'Who, therefore, will allow himself to feed on the body of this exceedingly virtuous being, who, surpassing by his goodness affectionate relations and friends, was thus inclined to help us, thus ready to sacrifice even his own life for our benefit? No, it becomes us rather to pay him our debt of gratitude by the cremation of his body with the proper rites and worship.' Thus considering, they were inclined to indulge in mourning, as if a family-disaster had befallen them; their eyes grew dim with tears and they lamented in a faltering voice. But some of them who had a stronger frame of mind, perceiving their attitude and understanding the difference of the cases, spoke to them: 'Verily, by doing so this excellent elephant would be neither worshipped nor gratified. For aught we know, it is by the accomplishment of his design that we ought to honour him.
41. 'For it was with the object of rescuing us, that he, a stranger to us, yea, not even knowing us, abandoned in this manner his body dear to him, to his guests, still dearer to him.
42. 'For this reason it is proper to fulfil his design. Otherwise, would not the exertion of that being be made fruitless?
43. 'He has offered affectionately his whole property, indeed, to entertain his guests. Who, then, would render his hospitality fruitless by not accepting it?
44. 'We are therefore bound to honour him by accepting it like the word of a teacher, whereby we will secure also our own welfare.
45. 'After surmounting our adversity, it will be the fit time to worship him either conjointly or severally, and to perform for this excellent elephant the whole of the funeral rites due to a deceased kinsman.'
Accordingly those men, keeping in mind that that chief of elephants had taken his determination with the object of rescuing them from the wilderness, obeyed his words. They took their provisions from the body of the Great Being, and filled his bowels with water, using them as water-bags. Then following the direction he had pointed out to them, they safely crossed that wilderness.
In this manner the righteous highly esteem even pain, as if it were gain, if they may cause by it the happiness of others. [So is to be said when praising the righteous. Likewise, when discoursing on the Tathâgata or on the subject of listening with attention to the preaching of the Law. When treating of how to acquire an auspicious nature, this is to be said: 'In this manner an auspicious nature obtained by exercise (of virtues) comes back in new existences.' This story may also be told, when demonstrating the virtue consisting in habitual charity. 'So the habit of abandoning material objects makes it easy to give up even self-love.' And on the words spoken by the Lord at the time of His Complete Nirvâna, when He was attended with celestial flowers and celestial music: 'Something like this, in truth, is not the right manner, Ânanda, to gratify the Tathâgata,' this story may serve as the comment, by taking it for example: 'In this manner worship consists in fulfilling the design (of the person honoured), not in offerings of perfumes, garlands, and the like.']
In the Avadânakalpalatâ this tale occurs in pallava 96, 9-15, where the Lord tells it succinctly. The elephant is called Bhadra (friendly; 'auspicious') there. Cp. supra, stanzas 39, 40, where his atibhadratâ, respecting bhadratâ, is praised. Concerning the Bhadra-elephants cp. Kielhorn, Indian Antiquary, 1890, p. 60.
(Cp. the Pâli Gâtaka, No. 537, Fausb. V, 456-511, and Kariyâpitaka III, 12[218].)
Meeting with a virtuous person, in whatever way it may have been occasioned, promotes salvation. Thus considering, he who longs for salvation must strive after intercourse with virtuous persons. This will be taught as follows.
In the time when our Lord was a Bodhisattva, he happened to be born, it is said, in the illustrious royal family of the Kauravas, that dynasty wide-famed for its glory, who owing to their intentness on possessing virtues, possessed the deep-rooted affection of their subjects, and the splendour of whose power had put their proud neighbours to vassalage. His father gave him the name of Sutasoma, for he looked as lovely as Soma (the Moon-god), his face being irradiated by the nimbus of his hundreds of virtues. Like the moon in the bright half of the month, his loveliness and grace increased every day. Having in course of time attained skill in the Vedas with their Aṅgas and in the Upavedas, and having been also initiated in the worldly arts and sciences (kalâs), including the additional ones (uttarakalâs), he became an object of esteem and love to his people and might be called a kinsman of virtues, so to speak. For he was inclined to be a decided helper of virtues[219], his regard for them was ever increasing, and he kept himself under restraint to preserve them carefully.
1, 2. Good conduct (sîla), learning, charity, mercy, self-control, splendour, forbearance, wisdom, patience, humility, modesty, shame, judgment, loveliness, renown, civility, retentiveness, strength, pureness of mind, these and such were the excellent properties which dwelt with him. Embellished by his youth, as it were, and deriving an additional charm from the holiness and loftiness of his person, they were like his constituent parts, as the (sixteen) kalâs of the moon[220].
And for this reason the king, his father, raised him to the illustrious rank of heir-apparent, judging him the proper person for ruling his subjects, for he knew his high aspirations and the holiness of his nature.
3. But as he was fond of learning, he was a great lover of religious sentences well-turned, and paid the most distinguished reward to those who attended him with well-said sentences.
Once it was the season of spring, and the power of the month of flowers had decorated the suburban parks. The young offshoots of shrubs and trees overspread them with a soft brilliancy; the opening flowers gave them a charming and laughing aspect; fresh grass-plots, like smooth woollen carpets, extended all around over their grounds; their water-basins with unstained and blue water were covered with the petals of lotuses white and blue; the humming noise of numbers of roaming bees was heard in them; crowds of bold cuckoos and peacocks showed themselves; and breezes, agreeable by their mildness, fragrancy, and coolness, blew over them. The splendour of those gardens roused gladness in the minds of men. So the High-minded One, walking about escorted by a small body of guards, went out to one of those pleasure-grounds in order to divert himself.
4. Its groves resounded with the chants of the he-cuckoo; its various trees were bending under the weight of their flowers; and the grace of the gardens was enhanced by their charming arbours, artfully arranged. Rambling through his groves in the company of his wives, he resembled one enjoying the fruit of his merit in Nandana.
5. There he delighted in the songs of the females blending with the soft tones of musical instruments, in their dances charmingly executed with exciting coquetry and graceful[221] gesticulation, in their brilliant amorous play in consequence of their excitement by liquors, but no less in the loveliness of the forest.
Now, while he was staying there, a certain Brâhman who professed to be a speaker of well-said sentences, called on him. After being received with due respect, he sat down in that place, absorbed in the contemplation of the prince's beautiful figure. So the Great Being, though he was enjoying at that time the sport allowed to his age and fallen to his share as the effect of the power of his rich store of merit, was nevertheless filled with great regard for that Brâhman. Before the Brâhman could reap the profit of his coming by reciting some well-turned sentences, there suddenly arose a confused noise, checking the sounds of song and music, destroying the merriment of the company engaged in playful occupation, and rousing fear and anxiety in the females. On hearing this uproar, he kindly bade the guardians of his harem inquire about the matter. Then his doorkeepers hastily went to him, alarmed and with saddened faces expressive of their fear and anxiety. They reported to him: 'Your Majesty, this is the man-eater Kalmâshapâda, the son of Sudâsa, the cruel disposition of whose mind exceeds even that of the Râkshasas. It is he, who, as if he were an incarnation of the God of Death, is in the habit of destroying hundreds of men. Looking terrible and dreadful like a Rakshas, that embodied Terror of the World, so to speak, of superhuman strength, vigour, and insolence is coming up to this very place. Our guards are dispersed. Terror has devoured the courage of the warriors, consternation has dissolved their ranks, and put also the chariots, horse, and elephants into disorder. Therefore Your Majesty must be on your guard for your defence, or reflect on the proper measures to be taken.' Then Sutasoma, though knowing it well, asked them: 'Who is that man whom you call the son of Sudâsa?' And they said to him: 'Is it then unknown to Your Majesty that there was a king of the name, who having gone out a hunting, carried away by his horse penetrated into the very heart of the forest? There he cohabited with a lioness, who having become pregnant, after some time was delivered of a male human child. Some foresters took up that boy, and brought him to Sudâsa, who being childless, brought him up as his son, and when he passed away to the city of the Celestials[222], left him as his successor. So he came to the possession of his legitimate royal dignity, but by the fault of his maternal origin he was fond of raw flesh. Once having tasted human flesh and liking its relish surpassing any other flesh, he commenced to kill and eat the very inhabitants of his capital. Then the townsmen prepared to put him to death. The son of Sudâsa, being afraid of them, made this promise to the goblins who are wont to enjoy offerings of human flesh and blood: "If I am saved from this peril, I will perform a sacrifice of one hundred royal princes to the goblins." So he was saved from that peril of his life. And now he carried off by force many, many royal princes, and he is also come here in order to carry away[223] Your Majesty, too. You have heard the matter; we await your orders, Your Majesty.'
Now the Bodhisattva, who was formerly aware of the aberration of mind of the son of Sudâsa and his wicked behaviour, felt compassion for him. So he set his mind on the design of curing him; and since he trusted himself to possess the qualities adapted to the extinction of the monstrous abnormity of his conduct, the information about Sudâsa's son drawing near, like welcome news, made him feel the sense of gladness. And, indeed, he spoke in this manner:
6. 'This man who, dispossessed from his royalty because of his fondness for human flesh, acts like a madman utterly unable to govern himself, having left his royal duties and destroyed his (former) good repute and merit, such a person, I suppose, is in a state deserving commiseration.
7. 'This being so, what opportunity is there for me to use force now, or what room for alarm and fear from the side of such a one? Rather will I utterly destroy his wickedness without employing effort, violence, and force.
8. 'And now this man who would deserve commiseration from my side, if even he went away from me, comes himself to the place, where I am staying. For this reason it befits me to show him hospitality. For it is in this way that the virtuous act towards guests.
'Therefore, it suffices that each of you mind his ordinary duty.' So he instructed the guard of his harem. And turning to his female life-guards, who with eyes great and bewildered with anxiety and with throats almost choked by agitation, prepared to bar the way of the monster, he made them desist from that purpose, addressing them with comforting words, and went forward in the direction of that alarming noise. And he saw his royal army dispersed and in flight, pursued by the son of Sudâsa, whose appearance was dreadful. His soiled garments, loosely kept together with a girdle, hung around his body; his hair dressed with a diadem of bark and coarse with dust, was dishevelled and hanging down his face wholly covered with a thick, rugged beard which lay upon it like darkness; his eyes rolling with wrath and anger looked tremendous; he brandished his sword and shield. The prince fearless and free from anxiety, called out to him: 'Hallo, here I am, I, Sutasoma. Turn to me. Why are you troubling yourself to assail those poor people?' These words of challenge stirred the pride of the son of Sudâsa, and turning from thence like a lion, he perceived the Bodhisattva (waiting for him) alone, unarmed, and placidly looking according to his nature. On seeing him he exclaimed, 'You are the very man I am seeking,' and at once without delay went hastily and with impetuosity to him, and placing him on his shoulder ran off. And the Bodhisattva, considering with solicitude that his mind was still troubled with agitation, and his heart infatuated by wrath and arrogance kindled by the insolence of his rejoicing at the royal forces put to flight, thought it was no proper time now for admonition, and persisted in his attitude of unconcern. On the other hand, the son of Sudâsa having obtained his wish and thinking to have made a capture of importance, entered much rejoiced the stronghold where he had his residence.
9, 10. That unholy dwelling, when appearing from afar to the eyes of the travellers, caused them to be frozen with horror; for it offered an aspect as dreadful as the dancing-place of giants and spectres[224]. It was encumbered with corpses of slain men, and wet with blood horribly moistening its ground; it seemed to threaten every one (approaching) with the cries of jackals roaring there most inauspiciously; and the trees standing on its area, exposed to the discolouring smoke of many funeral piles, bore dark-red leaves, the ferocious abode of vultures and crows.
Having set down the Bodhisattva in that place, he took his rest for a while, his eyes intently fixed on the face of his victim, charmed as he was by his exceeding beauty. Meanwhile the Bodhisattva remembered that poor Brâhman who had come to him in order to get some present for his sentences, whom he had not yet paid the due honour, and who must still be waiting for his return to the gardens with hope in his heart. And this thought entered in his mind: 'Alas! ho!
11. 'That Brâhman came to me from afar, bringing to me the present of his sentences and filled with hope. What will he do now on hearing of my capture?
12. 'Afflicted with a burning sorrow on account of the destruction of his hope, and vexed with fatigue felt the keener because of his despair, he will either sigh, commiserating my fate, or chide his own destiny.'
While the Great Being was reflecting in this manner, and his mind accustomed to commiserate (the sufferings of others) was sore with grief on account of that Brâhman, tears welled up in his eyes. The son of Sudâsa, seeing those tears, began to laugh aloud, and said: 'Do leave off.
13. 'You are renowned for your wisdom proved by many different virtues. But having come into my power, you too shed tears!
'Verily, this is a true saying:
14. 'In calamities constancy has no effect, and in sorrow learning is of no use. No being is to be found, indeed, who does not shake, when stricken.
'Therefore, tell me the truth.
15. 'Do you bewail your life dear to yourself, or your wealth, the instrument of pleasures, or your relations, or perhaps your royal rank? Or is it the recollection of your father who loves his son so much, or that of your own children who now weep for you, which makes these tears burst from your eyes?'
The Bodhisattva said:
16. 'It is not the thought either of my life or my parents, children, relatives, and wives, or the recollection of the pleasures of royalty, that moves me to tears; but some Brâhman who came to me hopeful, relying on the well-said sentences he brings with him. Forsooth, hearing that I have been carried off, he must grieve with despair. This I remembered, and hence my eyes are wet with tears.
17. 'For this reason you ought to let me go in order that I may refresh the heart of that Brâhman, now distressed with the grief of disappointment, pouring on it the water of honourable reward, and on the other hand, that I may take from him the honey of sentences he offers me.
18. 'After thus paying my debt to that Brâhman, I will come back to you again, that I may be also free from debt with respect to you, and afford gladness to your eyes beholding me returning here.
19. 'Do not, however, suspect me, troubling your mind with the thought this may be some contrivance of mine to go off. Men like me, O king, follow a way different from that on which other people are wont to walk.'
The son of Sudâsa spoke:
20. 'What you say, as if it were something worth regard, is a thing which utterly exceeds belief. Who, indeed, being released from the mouth of Death and having recovered his freedom of movement, would go to meet it once more?
21. 'If, having passed the danger of death hard to overcome, you are in safety in your brilliant palace, say, what reason does there exist that should induce you to come back here to me?'
The Bodhisattva spoke: 'How? Does Your Honour not understand the motive of my returning here, though it is a strong one, to be sure? Have I not promised to come back? For this reason, do not suspect me any longer, taking me for an equal of the villain. Am I not Sutasoma?
22. 'It is true that some, out of cupidity and fear of death, leave veracity, as if it were a straw. But to the virtuous veracity is their property and life; therefore they do not give it up even in distress.
23. 'Neither life nor the pleasures of this world will preserve from mishap him who has fallen from veracity. Who, then, would leave veracity for the sake of these objects? that virtue which is a rich mine of praise, glory, and happiness?
24. 'Nevertheless, in a person who is seen walking on the road of sin or in whom there does not appear any effort to lead a holy life, a pious behaviour becomes a matter of disbelief. Now, what of the kind did you perceive in my person that you should suspect even me?
25. 'If I had really been afraid of you, or if my mind had been attached to pleasures, or my heart were devoid of compassion, do you not think I should have met an adversary so famous for his ferocity as you, in full armour and prepared to fight, as becomes one proud of his valour?
26. 'But it may be that I did even desire that conversation with you. Why, after satisfying the labour of that Brâhman, I will come back to you of my own accord. Persons like me, in truth, do not utter an untruth.'
Now these words of the Bodhisattva irritated the son of Sudâsa, as if they spoke of something fanciful, and he entered upon this reflection: 'Verily, he does greatly boast of his veracity and righteous behaviour. Well then, I will see them, both his attachment to truth and his love of righteousness. What matters his loss to me, after all? I have already my full number of one hundred royal princes whom I subdued by the overwhelming strength of my arm; with them I may perform my sacrifice to the goblins according to my desire.' After thus considering, he said to the Bodhisattva: 'Well then, go. We wish to see your faithfulness in keeping your promise and your righteousness.
27. 'Go, and having done for that Brâhman what he longs for, return soon; meanwhile I will dress your funeral pile.'
And the Bodhisattva promised him he would do so. Then he set out for his palace, where he was welcomed by his household. Having sent for that Brâhman, he learnt from him a tetrad of gâthâs. The Great Being, to whom the hearing of those well-said sentences procured an intense gladness, praised the Brâhman with kind words and marks of honour, and valuing each gâthâ at the rate of one thousand (pieces of gold), rewarded him with the wealth so much desired for.
Now his father, intending to avert him from expenses out of place and extravagant, availed himself of this opportunity, and admonished his son in friendly terms. 'My dear,' he said, 'when you reward well-said sentences, you should know the limit, should you not? You have to maintain a large retinue; besides, the splendour of kings depends on the affluence of their treasury. For this reason I tell you this.
28. 'Rewarding a well-said sentence with one hundred is a very high estimation. It is not fit to exceed this limit. If a man, however wealthy, be too liberal, he will never retain the splendour of his riches for long.
29. 'Wealth is the chief instrument of success and an effective one; for no pleasure is attainable in defiance of Wealth. Fortune, indeed, like a harlot, disregards a king who lacks an abundant treasury.'
The Bodhisattva spoke:
30. 'If it were at all possible to settle a limit to the value of well-said sentences, Your Majesty, I would not incur your reprehension, to be sure, if I were to give up even my royal rank to purchase them.
31. 'Verily, such sayings by hearing which a man gains placidity of mind, his love for salvation is strengthened, and the darkness (of ignorance) disappears (from his intellect) by the increase of his wisdom—ought they not to be bought even at the price of one's own flesh?
32, 33. 'Holy texts are a light which destroys the darkness of delusion (moha); they are the highest wealth, a wealth beyond the reach of thieves and the rest[225]; the weapon to hurt that enemy whose name is infatuation; the best counsellor and adviser as to a man's course of conduct; an unalterable friend even in time of distress; the painless medicine of the disease called sorrow; a mighty army strong enough to crush the army of vices; the highest treasure of glory and bliss.
34-37. 'Moreover, the splendid possession of holy texts (Sruti) is also the principal cause of eloquent speech. When meeting with virtuous persons, this possession affords the opportunity of making a present of great value; in the assemblies it conciliates the favour of the learned; in disputes and controversies it casts its light like the sun, and destroys the arrogance and fame of envious adversaries. Its superiority is exhibited by the expression of delight and the high colour in the eyes and on the faces of even common people, when they are enraptured with ecstasy and applaud by clapping of hands. Further it enables its possessor to demonstrate a matter with plain argument and in a graceful way, owing to his quotations from manifold treatises and sacred books. By its softness, its culture, and its loveliness, eloquence may be compared to a string of unfaded garlands or to the blazing lustre of a tempered lamp[226], and (finally) it forcibly gains glory for its owner. So making use of sacred texts is a pleasant way to success.
38. 'And those who have heard them will betake themselves to the road leading to the threefold prosperity, and free of obstructing vices; and conforming their behaviour to the precepts imported by those texts, and making it excellent, they will easily cross the dangerous passage through existences.
39. 'For so many excellent properties holy texts are famous. Now then, having got them like a present, how should I, being able to reward the giver of them, not honour him in return? Or, (on the other hand,) how should I transgress your order?
40. 'I will go, therefore, to the son of Sudâsa. I do not want either the toil of royalty or that other anxiety I should incur by following the way of wickedness, if I were to transgress my duty of keeping my engagement to come back.'
These words alarmed his father, who moved by his affection replied with earnest entreaty: 'Verily, it is but for your good, my dear, that I spoke so. You must not take offence at it, will you? May your enemies come into the power of the son of Sudâsa! In fact, you made him the promise to return to him, and for this reason you, being wont to keep your faith, wish to accomplish your promise. Nevertheless, I will not allow it. No sin is incurred, truly, by following the way of untruth, if one may thereby save one's own life and also for the sake of one's parents and other venerable persons. Why should you exert yourself to avoid this precept, which is prescribed by the Veda? Besides, those who are skilled in the science of politics proclaim the attachment to righteousness (dharma) in such cases as where it evidently causes damage to material interests (artha) and pleasures (kâma), to be mismanagement and an evil habit in kings. No more, then, of that determination, wherewith you grieve my heart and disregard your own interest.—But you will object, my dear, that acting thus is dishonourable and in contradiction to righteousness, and that it is for this reason you cannot decide to break your promise, having never been accustomed to do anything like this. Yet, why should you break your promise? Here I have an army of footmen, chariots, horse, and elephants, prepared for war, and ready to march to your rescue. They make up an excellent body of warriors attached to your person, yea, a legion of heroes skilled in arms and having distinguished themselves in many battles. In short, these forces are dreadful, like a violent stream of water. Well, come to him, surrounded by that army, and bring him either to submission or to death. In this manner you will have fulfilled your promise and at the same time saved your life.'
The Bodhisattva replied: 'I am not able to promise one thing, Your Majesty, and perform another; nor can I strike at such people as deserve pity, who being immersed in the mud of wicked habits and moving in the direction of Hell, and whom I reckon my friends after their relations have abandoned them and there is nobody to protect them. Moreover,
41. 'That man-eater performed for me something generous and difficult to be done (by others), since he dismissed me out of his power, relying on my faith.