The Jātaka, vol. I (Ekanipāta)

^'^ A pleasing note." This story was told by the Master while at Jetavana, about a Brother with many belongings. The incident is just the same as in the Devadhamma-jataka supra^. "Is this report true, Brother," said the Master, "that you have many belongings?" "Yes, sir." "Why have you come to own so many belongings?" Without listening beyond this point, the Brother tore oflf the whole of his raiment, and stood stark naked before the Master, crying, "I'll go about like this!" "Oh, fie!" exclaimed every one. The man ran away, and reverted to the lower state of a layman. Gathering together in the Hall of Truth, the Brethren talked of his impropriety in behaving in that manner right before the Master. In came the Master and asked what was the theme of discussion in the conclave. "Sir," was the answer, "we were discussing the impropriety of that Brother, and saying that in your presence and right before all the four classes of your followers 2 he had so far lost all sense of shame as to stand there stark naked as a village-urchin, and that, finding himself loathed by everyone, he relapsed to the lower state and lost the faith ."

Said the Master, "Brethren, this is not the only loss his shamelessness has caused him ; for in bygone days he lost a jewel of a wife just as now he has lost the jewel of the faith." And so saying, he told this story of the past. [207] Once on a time, in the first cycle of the world's liistory, the quadrupeds chose the Lion as their king, the fishes the monster-fish Ananda, and the birds the Golden Mallard ^ Now the King Golden 2 i.e. Brethren, Sisterp, lay-brothers, and lay-sister8. 3 Cf. No. 270. 84 The Jdtaha. Book I. Mallard had a lovely young daughter, and her royal father granted her any boon she might ask. The boon she asked for was to be allowed to choose a husband for herself ; and the king in fulfilment of his promise mustered all the birds together in the country of the Himalayas. All manner of biids came, swans and peacocks and all other bii-ds ; and they flocked together on a great plateau of bare rock. Tlien the king sent for his daughter and bade her go and choose a husband after her own heart. As she reviewed the crowd of birds, her eye lighted on the peacock with his neck of jewelled sheen and tail of varied hue ; and she chose him, saying, "Let tliis be my husband." Then the assembly of the birds went up to the peacock and said, " Frieiad peacock, this princess, in choosing her husband from among all these birds, has fixed her choice on you."

Carried away by his extreme joy, the peacock exclaimed, " Until this day yoii have never seen how active I am j " and in defiance of all decency he spread his wings and began to dance ; — and in dancing he exposed himself. Filled with shame. King Golden Mallard said, " This fellow has neither modesty within his heart nor decency in his outward behaviour; I certainly will not give my daughter to one so shameless," And there in the midst of all that assembly of the birds, he repeated this stanza : — A pleasing note is yoiu"s, a lovely back, A neck in hue like lapis lazuli ; A fathom's length your outstretched feathers reach. Withal, your dancing loses you my child. Right in the face of the whole gathering King Royal Mallard gave his daughter to a young mallard, a nephew of his. Covered with shame at the loss of the mallard princess, [208] the peacock rose straight up from the place and fled away. And King Golden Mallard too went back to his dwelling-place. "Thus, Brethren," said the Master, "this is not the only time his breach of modesty has caused him loss ; just as it has now caused him to lose the jewel of the faith, so in bygone days it lost him a jewel of a wife." When he had ended this lesson, he shewed the connexion and identified the Birth by saying, "The Brother with the many belongings was the peacock of those days, and I myself the Koyal Mallard."

{Note. See Plate xxvii. (11) of the Stupa of Bharhut (where a fragment of a carving of this story is figured), Benfey's Pahca-Tantra I. p. 280, and Hahn's Sagewiss. Studien, p. 69. Cf. also Herodotus, vi. 129.]

" While concord reicfns." This story was told by the Master while dwelling in the Banyan-grove near Kapilavatthu, about a squabble over a porter's head-pad, as will be related in the Kunala-jatakai. On this occasion, however, the Master spoke thus to his kinsfolk: — "My lords, strife among kinsfolk is unseemly. Yes, in bygone times, animals, who had defeated their enemies when they lived in concord, came to utter destruction when they fell out." And at the request of his royal kinsfolk, he told this story of the past. Once upon a time when Brahmadatta was king of Benares, the Bodhisatta was born a quail, and lived in the forest at the head of many thousands of quails. In those days a fowler who caught quails came to that place ; and he used to imitate the note of a quail till he saw that the birds had been drawn together, when he flung his net over them, and whipped the sides of the net together, so as to get them all huddled up in a heap. Then he crammed them into his basket, and going home sold his prey for a living. Now one day the Bodhisatta said to those quails, " This fowler is making havoc among our kinsfolk. I have a device whereby he will be unable to catch us. Henceforth, the very moment he throws the net over you, let each one put his head through a mesh and then all of you together must fly away with the net to such place as you please, and there let it down on a thorn-brake ; this done, we will all escape from our several meshes." " Very good," said they all in ready agreement.

On the morrow, when the net was cast over them, they did just as the Bodhisatta had told them : — they lifted up the net, [209] and let it down on a thorn-brake, escaping themselves from underneath. While the fowler was still disentangling his net, evening came on ; and he went away empty-handed. On the morrow and following days the quails played the same trick. So that it became the regular thing for the fowler to be engaged till sunset disentangling his net, and then to betake himself home empty-handed. Accordingly his wife gi-ew angry and said, " Day by day you return empty-handed; I suppose you've got a second establishment to keep up elsewhere." B6 The Jdtaha. Book I. "No, my dear," said the fowler; "I've no second establishment to keep lip. The fact is those quails have come to work together now. The moment my net is over them, off they fly with it and escape, leaving it on a thorn-brake. Still, they won't live in unity always. Don't you bother yourself ; as soon as they start bickering among themselves, I shall bag the lot, and that vvil] bring a smile to your face to see." And so saying, he repeated this stanza to his wife : —

While concoi'd i-eigns, the birds bear off the net. When quarrels rise, they'll fall a prey to me. Not long after this, one of the quails, in alighting on their feedingground, trod by accident on another's head. " Who trod on my head 1 " angrily cried this latter. " I did ; but I didn't mean to. Don't be angry," said the first quail. But notwithstanding this answei", the other remained as angry as before. Continuing to answer one another, they began to bandy taunts, saying, " I suppose it is you single-handed who lift up the net." As they wrangled thus with one another, the Bodhisatta thought to himself, "There's no safety with one who is quarrelsome. The time has come when they will no longer lift up the net, and thereby they will come to great destruction. The fowler will get his opportunity. I can stay here no longer." And thereupon he with his following went elsewhere. Sure enough the fowler [210] came back again a few days later, and first collecting them together by imitating the note of a quail, flung his net over them. Then said one quail, " They say when you were at work lifting the net, the hair of your head fell off. Now's your time; lift away," The other rejoined, "When you were lifting the net, they say both your wings moulted. Now's your time ; lift away."

But whilst they were each inviting the other to lift the net, the fowler himself lifted the net for them and crammed them in a heap into his basket and bore them off home, so that his wife's face was wreathed with smiles. "Thus, sire," said the Master, "such a thing as a quarrel among kinsfolk is unseemly ; quarrelling leads only to destruction." His lesson ended, he shewed the connexion, and identified the Birth, by saying, "Devadatta was the foolish quail of those days, and I myself the wise and good quail." \^Note. See for the migrations of this story Beufey's Fahca-Tantra i. 304, and Fausboll in R.A.S. Journal, 1870. See also Julien's Avaddiias, Vol, i, page 155.]

'"y^s not the cold." — This story was told by the Master while at Jetavana, about being seduced by the wife of one's mundane life before joining the Brotherhood. Said the Master on this occasion, " Is it true, as I hear. Brother, that you are passion-tost ? " " Yes, Blessed One." " Because of whom 1 " " My former wife, sir, is sweet to touch ; I cannot give her up ! " Then said the Master, " Brother, this woman is hurtful to you. It was through her that in bygone times too you were meeting your end, when you were saved by me." And so saying, he told this story of the past. Once on a time when Brahmadatta was reigning in Benares, the Bodhisatta became his family-priest. In those days some fishermen had cast their net into the river. And a great big fish came along amorously toying with his wife. She, scenting the net as she swam ahead of him, made a circuit round it and escaped. But her amorous spouse, blinded by passion, sailed right into the meshes of the net. As soon as the fishermen felt him in their net, they hauled it in and took the fish out ; they did not kill him at once, but flung him alive on the sands. [211] "We'll cook him in the embers for our meal," said they ; and accordingly they set to work to light a fire and whittle a spit to roast him on. The fish lamented, saying to himself, " It's not the torture of the embers or the anguish of the spit or any other pain that grieves me ; but only the distressing thought that my wife should be unhappy in the belief that I have gone ofi" with another." And he repeated this stanza :

'Tis not the cold, the heat, or wounding net ; 'Tis but the fear my darling wife should think Another's love has lured her spouse away. Just then the priest came to the riverside with his attendant slaves to bathe. Now he understood the language of all animals. Therefore, when he heard the fish's lamentation, he thought to himself, " This fish is lamenting the lament of passion. If he should die in this unhealthy state of mind, he cannot escape rebirth in hell. I will save him." So he went to the fishermen and said, " My men, don't you supply us with a fish every day for our curry V " What do you say, sir 1 " said the fishermen ; "pray take away with you any fish you may take a fancy to." " We don't need any but this one ; only give us this one." " He's yours, sir." 88 TJie Jataka. Book I. Taking the iish in his two hands, the Bodhisatta seated himself on the bank and said, " Friend fish, if I had not seen you to-day, you would have met your death. Cease for the future to be the slave of passion." And with this exhortation he threw the fish into the water, and went into the city.

[212] His lesson ended, the Master preached the Truths, at the close whereof the passion-tost Brother won the First Path. Also, the Master shewed the connexion and identified the Birth by saying, " The former wife was the female fish of those days, the passion-tost Brother was the male fish, and 1 myself the family -priest." \_N'ote. Compare Jatakas Nos. 216 and 297.]

" With wings that fly not." — This story was told by the Master, whilst on an alms-pilgrimage through Magadha, about the going-out of a jungle fire. Once the Master, whilst on an alms-pilgrimage through Magadha, went on his morning round for alms through a certain hamlet in that country; on his return, after his meal, he went out again followed by the company of the Brethren. Just then a great fire broke out. There were numbers of Brethren both in front of the Master and behind him. On came the fire, spreading far and wide, till all was one sheet of smoke and flame. Hereupon, some unconverted Brethren were seized with the fear of death. " Let us make a counter fire," they cried ; " and then the big fire will not sweep over the ground we have fired." And, with this view, they set about kindling a fire with their tinder-sticks. But others said, " What is this you do. Brethren 1 You are like such as mark not the moon in mid-heaven, or the sun's orb rising with myriad rays from the east, or the sea on whose shores they stand, or Mount Sineru towering before their very eyes, — when, as you journey along in the company of him who is peerless among devas and men alike, you give not a thought to the All-Enlightened Buddha, but cry out, ' Let us make a fire !

' You know not the might of a Buddha ! Come, let us go to the Master." Then, gathering together from front and rear alike, the Brethren in a body flocked round the Lord of Wisdom. At a certain spot the Master halted, with this mighty assembly of the Brethren surrounding him. On rolled the flames, roaring as though to devour them. But when they approached the spot where the Buddha had taken his stand, they came no nearer than sixteen lengths, but there and then went out, — even as a torch plunged into water. It had no power to spread over a space thirty-two lengths in diameter.

The Brethren burst into praises of the Master, saying, " Oh ! how great are the virtues of a Buddha! For, even this lire, thougli lacking sense, could not sweep over the spot where a Buddha stood, but went out like a torch in water. Oh ! how marvellous are the powers of a Buddha ! " [213] Hearing their words, the Master said, "It is no present power of mine, Brethren, that makes this fire go out on reaching this spot of ground. It is the power of a former 'Act of Truth' of mine. For in this spot no fire will burn throughout the whole of this seon, — the miracle being one which endures for an seon i." _ Then the Elder Ananda folded a robe into four and spread it for the Master to sit on. The Master took his seat. Bowing to the Buddha as he sat crosslegged there, the Brethren too seated themselves around him. Then they asked him, saying, "Only the present is known to us, sir; the past is hidden from us. Make it known to us." And, at their request, he told this story of the past. Once upon a time in this selfsame spot in Magadha, it was as a quail that the Bodhisatta came to life once more. Breaking his way out of the shell of the egg in which he was born, he became a young quail, about as big as a large ball".

And his parents kept him lying in the nest, while they fed him with food which they brought in their beaks. In himself, he had not the strength either to spread his wings and fly through the air, or to lift his feet and walk upon the ground. Year after year that spot was always ravaged by a jungle-fire; and it was just at this time that the flames swept down on it with a mighty roaring. The flocks of birds, dai'tiug from their several nests, were seized with the fear of death, and flew shrieking away. The father and mother of the Bodhisatta were as frightened as the others and flew away, forsaking the Bodhisatta. Lying there in the nest, the Bodhisatta stretched forth his neck, and seeing the flames spi-eading towards him, he thought to himself, " Had I the power to put forth my wings and fly, I would wing my way hence to safety ; or, if I could move my legs and walk, I could escape elsewhere afoot. Moreover, my parents, seized with the fear of death, are fled away to save themselves, leaving me here quite alone in the world. I am without protector or helper. What, then, shall I do this day ] "

Then this thought came to him : — " In this world there exists what is termed the EflBcacy of Goodness, and what is termed the Efiicacy of Truth. There are those who, through their having realised the Perfections in past ages, have attained beneath the Bo-tree to be All-Enlightened ; who, having won Release by goodness, tranquillity and wisdom, possess also discernment of the knowledge of such Release; ["^l-i] who are filled with truth, compassion, mercy, and patience ; whose love embraces all ci'eatures alike ; whom men call omniscient Buddhas. There is an efficacy in the attributes they have won. And I too grasp one truth ; I hold and believe in a single 1 See above, page 56. ^ See Morris, Journal P. T. S. 1884, p. 90. 90 The Jataka. Booh I. principle iu Nature. Therefore, it behoves me to call to mind the Buddhas of the past, and the Efficacy they have won, and to lay hold of the true belief that is in me touching the principle of Nature ; and by an Act of Truth to make the flames go back, to the saving both of myself and of the rest of the birds."

Therefore it has been said : — There's saving grace in Goodness in this world ; There's truth, compassion, purity of life. Thereby, I'll work a matchless Act of Truth. Remembering Faith's might, and taking thought On those who triumphed in the days gone by. Strong in the truth, an Act of Truth I wrought. Accordingly, the Bodhisatta, calling to mind the efficacy of the Buddhas long since past away, performed an Act of Truth in the name of the true faith that was in him, repeating this stanza : — With wings that fly not, feet that walk not yet. Forsaken by my parents, here I lie ! Wherefore I conjm-e thee, dread Lord of Fire, Primaeval Jataveda, turn ! go back ! Even as he performed his Act of Truth, Jataveda went back a space of sixteen lengths ; and in going back the flames did not pass away to the forest devouring everything in their path. No ; they went out there and then, like a torch plunged in water. Therefore it has been said : — [215] I wrought my Act of Truth, and therewithal The sheet of blazing fire left sixteen lengths Unscathed, — like flames by water met and quenched.

And as that spot escaped being wasted by fire throughout a whole aeon, the miracle is called an ' seon-miracle.' When his life closed, the Bodhisatta, who had performed this Act of Truth, passed away to fare according to his deserts. "Thus, Brethren," said the Master, "it is not my present power but the efficacy of an Act of Truth performed by me when a young quail, that has made the flames pass over this spot in the jungle." His lesson ended, he preached the Truths, at the close whereof some won the First, some the Second, some the Third Path, while others again became Arahats. Also, the Master shewed the connexion and identified the Birth by saying, " My present parents were the parents of those days, and I myself the king of the quails." [Note. The story and the verses occur in the Cariyd-Pitaka, p. 98. See reference to this story under Jataka No. 20, supra. For the archaic title of Jataveda here given to Fire, compare Jataka, No. 75, as to a similar use of the archaic name Pajjunna.']

" Ye dem'zens of air." — This story was told by the Master while at Jutavaiia, aljout a Brother whose cell was burnt down. Tradition says that a Brother, having been given a theme for meditation l)y the Master, went from Jetavana to the land of Kosala and there abode in a dwelling in a forest hard by a border-village. Now, during the very first month of his dwelling there, his cell was burnt down. This he reported to the villagers, saying, "My cell has been burnt down; I live in discomfort." Said they, "The land is suffering from drought just now; we'll see to it when we have irrigated the fields." When the irrigation was over, they said they must do their sowing first ; when the sowing was done, they had the fences to put up ; when the fences were put up, they had first to do the weeding and the reaping, and the threshing; till, what with one job and another which they ke])t mentioning, three whole months passed by. After three months spent in the open air in discomfort, that Brother had developed his theme for meditation, but could get no further. So, after the Pavarana-festival which ends the Rainy Season, he went back again to the Master, and, with due salutation, took his seat aside. After kindly words of greeting, the Master said, "Well, Brotlier, have you lived happily through the Rainy Season ? Did your theme for meditation end in success?" The Brother told him all that had happened, adding, "As I had no lodging to suit rnc, my theme did not end in success."

Said the Master, "In ))ygone times, Brother, even animals knew what suited them and what did not. How is it that you did not know?" And so saying, he told this story of the past. [216] Once on a time when Brahmadatta was reigning in Benares, the Bodhisatta was born a bird and lived round a giant tree with branching boughs, at the head of a company of birds. Now one day, as the boughs of this tree were grinding one against the other, dust began to fall, soon followed by smoke. When the Bodhisatta became aware of this, he thought to himself : — " If these two boughs go on grinding against one another like this, they will produce fire ; and the fire will fall and catch hold of the old leaves, and so come to set fire to this tree as well. We cannot live on here; the proper thing to do is to hasten off elsewhere." And he repeated this stanza to the company of birds : — Ye denizens of air, that in these boughs Have sought a lodging, mark the seeds of fire This earthborn tree is breeding ! Safety seek In flight ! Our trusted stronghold harboiu-s death !

The wiser birds who followed the Bodhisatta's counsels, at once rose up in the air and went elsewhere in his company. But the foolish ones said. 92 The Jataka. Book I. " It is always like this with him ; he's always seeing crocodiles in a drop of water." And they, heeding not the Bodhisatta's words, stopped where they were. In a very short time, jnst as the Bodhisatta had foreseen, flames really did break out, and the tree caught fire. When the smoke and flame ai'ose, the birds, blinded by the smoke, were unable to get away ; one by one they dropped into the flames and were destroyed. "Thus, Brethren," said the Master, "iu bygone times even animals who were dwelling in the tree-top, knew what suited them and what did not. How is it that you did not know.^" [217] His lesson ended, he preached the Truths, at the close whereof that Brother won the Fruit of the First Path. Also, the ^Master shewed the connexion, and identified the Birth by saying, "The Buddha's disciples were then the birds who hearkened to the Bodhisatta, and I myself was the wise and good bird."

"i^or they who honour age.'''' — This story was told by the Master whilst on his way to Savatthi, about the way in which the Elder Sariputta was kept out of a night's lodging. For, when Anatha-pindika had built his monastery, and had sent word that it was finished, the Master left Rajagaha and came to Vesali, setting out again on his journey after stopping at the latter place during his pleasure. It was now that the disciples of the Six hurried on ahead, and, before quarters could be taken for the Elders, monopolized the whole of the available lodgings, which they distributed among their superiors, their teachers, and themselves. When the Elders came up later, they could find no quarters at all for the night. Even Sariputta's disciples, for all their searching, could not find lodgings for the Elder. Being without a lodging, the Elder passed the night at the foot of a tree near the j\Iaster's quarters, either walking up and down or sitting at the foot of a tree. At early dawn the ]\Iaster coughed as he came out. The Elder coughed too. "Who is that?" asked the Master. "It is I, Sariputta, sir." "What are you doing here at this hour, Sariputta?" Then the Elder told his story, at the close of which the Master thought, "Even now, while I am still alive, the Brethren lack courtesy and subordination ; what will they not do when I am dead and gone?" And the thought filled him with anxiety for the Truth.

As soon as day had come, he had the assembly of the Brethren called together, and asked them, saying, "Is it true. Brethren, as I hear, that the adherents of the Six went on ahead and kept the Elders among the Brethren out of lodgings for the night 1" " That is so. Blessed One," was the reply. Thereupon, with a reproof to the adherents of the Six and as a lesson to all, he addressed the Brethren, and said, " Tell me, who deserves the best lodging, the best water, and the best rice, Brethren?"

Some answered, " He who was a nobleman before he became a Brother." Others said, "He who was originally a brahmin, or a man of means." Others severally said, "The man versed in the Rules of the Order; the man who can expound the Law ; the men who have won the first, second, third, or fourth stage of mystic ecstasy." Whilst others again said, "The man in the First, Second, or Third Path of Salvation, or an Arahat ; one who knows the Three Great Truths ; one who has the Six Higher Knowledges." After the Brethren had stated whom they severally thought worthiest of precedence in the matter of lodging and the like, the Master said, [218] "In the religion which I teach, the standard by which precedence in the matter of lodging and the like is to be settled, is not noble birth, or having been a brahmin, or having been wealthy before entry into the Order ; tlie standard is not familiarity with the Rules of the Order, with the Suttas, or with the Metaphysical Books 1; nor is it either the attainment of any of the four stages of mystic ecstasy, or the walking in any of the Four Paths of salvation. Brethren, in my religion it is seniority which claims respect of word and deed, sahitation, and all due service; it is seniors who should enjoy the best lodging, the best water, and the best rice. This is the true standard, and therefore the senior Brother ought to have these things. Yet, Brethren, here is Sariputta, who is my chief disciple, who has set rolling the Wheel of Minor Truth, and who deserves to have a lodging next after myself. And Sariputta has spent this night without a lodging at the foot of a tree ! If you lack respect and subordination even now, what will be your behaviour as time goes by?"

And for their fvu'ther instruction he said, " In times past, Brethren, even animals came to the conclusion that it was not proper for them to live without respect and subordination one to another, or without the ordering of their common life ; even these animals decided to find out which among them was the senior, and then to shew him all forms of reverence. So they looked into the matter, and having found out which of them was the senior, they shewed him all forms of reverence, whereby they passed away at that life's close to people heaven." And so saying, he told this story of the past. Once on a time, hai'd by a great banyan-tree on the slopes of the Himalayas, there dwelt three friends, — a partridge, a monkey, and an elephant. And they came to lack respect and subordination one to another, and had no ordering of their common life. And the thought came to them that it was not seemly for them to live in this way, and that they ought to find out vi^hich of their number was the senior and to honour him. As they were engaged thinking which was the oldest, one day an idea struck them. Said the partridge and the monkey to the elephant as they all three sat together at the foot of tliat banyan-tree, " Friend elephant, how big was this banyan when you remember it first ? " Said the elephant, " When I was a baby, this banyan was a mere bush, over which I used to walk ; and as I stood astride of it, its topmost branches used just to reach up to my belly. I've known the tree since it was a mere bush."

1 i.e. the three divisions, or 'three baskets,' of the Buddhist scriptures. 94 The Jataka. Book I. Next the monkey was asked the same question by the other two ; and he replied, "My friends, when I was a youngling, [219] I had only to stretch out my neck as I sat on the ground, and I could eat the topmost sprouts of this banyan. So I've known this banyan since it was very tiny." Then the partridge was asked the same question by the two others; and he said, " Friends, of old there was a great banyan-tree at such and such a spot; I ate its seeds, and voided them here; that was the origin of this tree. Therefore, I have knowledge of this tree from before it was born, and am older than the pair of you." Hereupon the monkey and the elephant said to the sage partridge, " Friend, you are the oldest. Henceforth you shall have from us acts of honour and veneration, marks of obeisance and homage, respect of word and deed, salutation, and all due homage; and we will follow your counsels. You for your part henceforth will please impart such counsel as we need."

Thenceforth the partridge gave them counsel, and established them in the Commandments, which he also undertook himself to keep. Being thus established in the Commandments, and becoming respectful and subordinate among themselves, with proper ordering of their common life, these three made themselves sure of rebirth in heaven at this life's close. " The aims of these three " — continued the Master — " came to be known as the ' Holiness of the Pai-tridge,' and if these three animals. Brethren, lived together in respect and subordination, how can you, who have embraced a Faith the Rules of which are so well-taught, live together without due respect and subordination? Henceforth I ordain, Brethren, that to seniority shall be paid respect of word and deed, salutation, and all due service; that seniority shall be the title to the best lodging, the best water, and the best rice ; and nevermore let a senior be kept out of a lodging by a junior. Whosoever so keeps out his senior commits an offence." It was at the close of this lesson that the Master, as Buddha, repeated this stanza : — For they who honour age, in Truth are versed ; Praise now, and bliss hereafter, is their meed.

[220] When the Master had finished speaking of the virtue of reverencing age, he made the connexion and identified the Birth by saying, "Moggallana was the elephant of those days, Sariputta the monkey, and I myself the sage partridge." [JVote. See this story in the Vinaya, Vol. li. page 161 (translated at page 193 of Vol. XX. of the Sacred Books of the East), and in Jnlien's Avaddnas, Vol. II. page 17. Reference is made to this Jataka by name in liuddliaghosa's SumangahiVildsinl., page 178 ; bnt his quotation, though it purports to be from the TlttiraJatakxi, is from the above passage in the Vinaiia. Prof. Cowell has traced its history in Y Cymmrodor, October 1882.]

'■'■Guile profits not^ — This story was told by the Master while at Jetavana, about a tailoring Brother. Tradition says that at Jetavana dwelt a Brother who was exceedingly skilful in all operations to be performed with a robe, such as cutting, joining, arranging, and stitching. Because of this skill, he used to fashion robes and so got the name of 'The Robe-tailoi'.' What, you ask, did he do? — Well, he exercised his craft on old bits of cloth and turned out a nice soft robe, which, after the dyeing was done, he would enhance in colour with a wash containing flour to make a dressing, and rub it with a shell, till he had made it quite smart and attractive. Then he would lay his handiwork aside. Being ignorant of robe-making. Brethren used to come to him with brand-new cloth, saying, "We don't know how to make robes; you make them for us." "Sirs," he would reply, "a robe takes a long time making; but I have one which is just finished. You can take that, if you will leave these cloths in exchange." And, so saying, he would take his out and shew it them. And they, marking only its fine colour, and knowing nothing of what it was made of, thought it was a good strong one, and so handed over their brand-new cloth to the 'Robe-maker' and went off with the robe he gave them. When it got dirty and was being washed in hot water, it revealed its real character, and the worn patches were visible here and there. Then the owners regretted their bargain. Everywhere that Brother became well-ki^own for cozening in this way all who came to him.

Now, there was a robe-maker in a hamlet who used to cozen everybody just as the brother did at Jetavana. [221] This man's friends among the Brethren .said to him, "Sir, they say that at Jetavana there is a robe-maker who cozens everybody just like you." Tlien the thought struck him, "Come now, let me cozen that city man !" So he made out of rags a very fine robe, which he dyed a beautiful orange. This he put on and went to Jetavana. The moment the other saw it, he coveted it, and said to its owner, "Sir, did you make that robe?" "Yes, I did, sir," was the reply. "Let me have that robe, sir; you'll get another in its place." "But, sir, we village-Brethren find it hard to get the Requisites; if I give you this, what shall I have to wear myself?" "Sir, I have some brandnew cloth at my lodging; take it and make yourself a robe." "Reverend sir, herein have I shewn my own handiwork ; but, if you speak thus, what can I do? Take it." And having cozened the other by exchanging the rag- robe for the new cloth, he went his way.

After wearing the botched robe in his turn, the Jetavana man was washing it not long afterwards in warm water, when he liecame awai-e that it was made out of rags; and he was put to shame. The whole of the Brotherhood heard the news that the Jetavana man had been cozened by a robe-tailor from the country. 96 The Jataha. Booh I. Now, one day the Brethren were seated in the Hall of Truth, discussing the news, when the Master entered and asked what they were discussing ; and they told him all about it. Said the Master, "Brethren, this is not the only occasion of the Jetavana robe-maker's cozening tricks ; in bygone times also he did just the same, and, as he has been cozened now by the man from the country, so was he too in bygone times." And so saying, he told this story of the past. Once on a time the Bodhisatta came to life in a certain forest-haunt as the Tree-sprite of a tree which stood near a certain lotus-pond. In those days the water used every summer to fall very low in a certain pond, not very big, — which was plentifully stocked witli fish. Catching sight of these fish, a certain crane said to himself, " I must find a way to cajole and eat these fish." So he went and sat down in deep thought by the side of the water.

Now when the fishes caught sight of him, they said, " Of what are you thinking, my lord, as you sit there T' "I am thinking about you," was the reply. "And what is your lordship thinking aboixt usV "The water in this pool being low, food scarce, and the heat intense, — I was wondering to myself, as I sat here, what in the world you fishes would do." "And what are we to do, my lordl" "Well, if you'll take my advice, [222] 1 will take you up one by one in my beak, and carry you all off to a fine large pool covered with the five varieties of lotuses, and there put you down." " My lord," said they, " no crane ever took the slightest thought for fishes since the world began. Your desire is to eat us one by one." "No ; I will not eat you while you trust me," said the crane. "If you don't take my word that there is such a pond, send one of your number to go with me and see for himself." Believing the crane, the fish presented to him a great big fish (blind of one eye, by the way), who they thought would be a match for the crane whether afloat or ashore ; and they said, " Here's the one to go with you."

The crane took the fish off" and put him in the pool, and after shewing him the whole extent of it, bi'ought him back again and put him in along with the other fish in his old pond. And he held forth to them on the chai-ms of the new pool. After hearing this report, they grew eager to go there, and said to the crane, " Very good, my lord ; please take us across." First of all, the crane took that big one-eyed fish again and carried him off" to the edge of the pool, .so that he could see the water, but actually alighted iu a Varana-tree which grew on tlie bank. Dashing the fish down in a fork of the tree, he pecked it to death, — after which he picked him clean and let the bones fall at the foot of the tree. Then back he went and said, " I've thrown him in ; who's the next? " And so he took the fish one by one, and ate them all, till at last when he came back, he could not find another left. But there was still a crab remaining in the pond; so the crane, who wanted to eat him up too, said, "Mister crab, I've taken all those fishes away and turned them into a fine large pool covered all over with lotuses. Come along; I'll take you too." "How will you carry me across 1" said the crab.

"Why, in my beak, to be sure," said the crane. "Ah, but you might drop me like that," said the crab; "I won't go with you." "Don't be frightened; I'll keep tight hold of you all the way." Thought the crab to himself, " He hasn't put the fish in the pool. But, if he would really put me in, that would be capital. If he does not, — why, I'll nip his head off and kill him." So he spoke thus to the crane, " You'd never be able to hold me tight enough, friend crane ; whereas we crabs have got an astonishingly tight grip. [223] If I might take hold of your neck with my claws, I could hold it tight and then would go along with you."

Not suspecting that the crab wanted to trick him, the crane gave his assent. With his claws the crab gripped hold of the crane's neck as with the pincers of a smith, and said, " Now you can start." The crane took him and shewed him the pool first, and then started ofi" for the tree. "The pool lies this way, nunky," said the crab; "but you're taking me the other way." "Very much your nunky dear am I!" said the crane ; " and very much my nephew are you ! I suppose you thought me your slave to lift you up and cai-ry you about ! Just you cast your eye on that heap of bones at the foot of the tree ; as I ate up all those fish, so I will eat you too." Said the crab, "It was through their own folly that those fish were eaten by you ; but I shan't give you the chance of eating me. No ; what I shall do, is to kill ijoit. For you, fool that you were, did not see that I was tricking you. If we die, we will both die together ; I'll chop your head clean off." And so saying he gripped the crane's weazand with his claws, as with pincers. With his mouth wide open, and tears streaming from his eyes, the crane, trembling for his life, said, " Lord, indeed I will not eat you ! Spare my life ! "

" Well, then, just step down to the pool and put me in," said the crab. Then the crane turned back and stepped down as directed to the pool, and placed the crab on the mud, at the water-edge. But the crab, before entering the water, nipped off the crane's head as deftly as if he were cutting a lotus stalk with a knife. The Tree-fairy who dwelt in the tree, marking this wonderful thing, made the whole forest ring with applause repeating this stanza in sweet tones : — Guile profits not your very guileful folk. Mark what the guileful crane got from the crab! 98 The Jfltaka. Book I. [224] "Brethren," said the Master, "this is not the first time this fellow has been cozened by the robe-maker from the comitry ; in the past he was cozened in just the same mannei'." His lesson ended, he shewed the connexion, and identified the Birth, by saying, "The Jetavana robe-maker was [the crane] of those days, the robe-maker from the country was the crab, and I myself the Tree-Fairy." [iVote. See Benfey's PaTtca-Tantra (i. 175), Tawney's Kathd-Sarit-Sdgara (ir. 31), and Rhys Davids' Birtk Stories (page 321), for the' migrations of this popular story.]

'■'•Methinhs the gold."— Hhia story was told by the Master while at Jetavana, about a co-resident pupil of Sariputta. Tradition says that this Brother was meek and docile, and was zealous in ministering to the Elder. Now, on one occasion the Elder departed with the leave of the INIastei-, on an alms-pilgrimage, and came to South Magadha. When he got there, that Brother grew so pi'oud-stomached that he would not do what the Elder told him. Moreover, if he was addressed with, "Sir, do this," he quarrelled with the Elder. The Elder could not make out what possessed him. After making his pilgrimage in those parts, he came back again to Jetavana. The moment he got back to the monastery at Jetavana, the Brother became again what he had always been. The Elder told this to the Buddha, saying, "Sir, a co-resident of mine is in one place like a slave bought for a hundred pieces, and in another so proudstomached that an order to do anything makes him quarrel." Said the Master, "This is not the first time, Sariputta, that he has shewn this disposition ; in the past too, if he went to one place, he was like a slave bought for a hundred pieces, whilst, if he went to another place, he would become quarrelsome and contentious." And, so saying, by request of the Elder, he told this story of the past.

Once on a time when Brahmadatta was reigning in Benares, the Bodhisatta came to life again as a squire. Another squire, a friend of his, was an old man himself, but had [225] a young wife who had borne him a son and heir. Said the old man to himself, "As soon as I am dead, this girl, being so young as she is, will mai-ry heaven knows whom, and spend all my money, instead of handing it over to my son. Wouldn't it be my best course to bury my money safely in the ground?" So, in the company of a household slave of his named Nanda, he went to the fore-st and buried his riches at a certain spot, saying to the slave, "My good Natida, reveal this treasure to my son after 1 am gone, and don't let the wood be sold." After giving this injunction to his slave, the old man died. In due course the son grew up, and his mother said to him, " My son, your father, in the com})any of Nanda, buried his money. Get it back and look after the property of the family." So one day he said to Nanda, " Nunky, is there any treasure which my father buried 1 " " Yes, my lord." " Where is it buried 1 " " In the forest, my lord." " Well, then, let us go there." And he took a spade and a basket, and going to the scene, said to Nanda, " Well, nunky, where's the money 1 " But by the time Nanda had got up to the treasure and was standing right over it, he was .so puffed up by the money that he abused his master, saying, " You servant of a slavewench's son ! how should you have any money here 1 "

The young gentleman, pretending not to have heard this insolence, simply said, " Let us be going then," and took the slave back home with him. Two or three days later, he returned to the place ; but again Nanda abused him, as before. Without any abusive rejoinder, the young gentleman came back and turned the matter over in his mind. Thought he to himself, "At starting, this slave always means to reveal where the money is ; but no sooner does he get there, than he falls to abusing me. The reason of this I do not see ; but I could find out, if I were to ask my father's old friend, the squire." So he went to the Bodhisatta, and laying the whole business before him, asked his friend what was the real reason of such behaviour. Said the Bodhisatta, " The spot at which Nanda stands to abuse you, my friend, is the place where your father's money is buried. Therefore, as soon as he starts abusing you again, say to him, ' Whom are you talking to, you slave?' Pull him from his perch, take the spade, dig down, remove your family treasure, and make the slave carry it home for you." And so saying, he repeated this stanza : — [226]

Methinks the gold and jewels buried lie Where Nanda, low-born slave, so loudly bawls ! Taking a respectful leave of the Bodhisatta, the young gentleman went home, and taking Nanda went to the spot where the money was buried. Faithfully following the advice he had received, he broiTght the money away and looked after the family property. He remained steadfast in the Bodhisatta's counsels, and after a life spent in charity and other good works he passed away to fare according to his deserts. Said the Master, "In the past too this man was similarly disposed." His lesson ended, he shewed the connexion, and identified the Birth, by saying, "Sariputta's co-resident was the Nanda of tliose days, and T tlie wise and good squire." 100 The Jdtaka. Booh I.

"/'ar rather icill I headlong plmige."—l!\\\fi story was told by the Master while at Jetavana, about Axiatha- pindika. For Aiiatha-puidika, who had lavished fifty-four crores on the Faith of the Buddha over the Monastery alone, and who valued naught else save onl}' the Three Gems, used to go every day while the Master was at Jetavana to attend the Great Services, — once at daybreak, once after breakfast, and once in the evening. There were intermediate services too; but he never went emptyhanded, for fear the Novices and lads shoidd look to see what he had brought with him. When he went in the early morning [227], he used to have rice-gruel taken up ; after breakfast, ghee, butter, honey, molasses, and the like ; and in the evening, he brought perfumes, garlands and cloths. So much did he expend day after day, that his expense knew no bounds. Moreover, many traders borrowed money from him on their bonds, — to the amount of eighteen crores ; and the great merchant never called the money in. Fm"thermore, another eighteen crores of the family property, which were biu-ied in the river-bank, were washed out to sea, when the bank was swept away by a storm ; and down rolled the brazen pots, with fastenings and seals unbroken, to the bottom of the ocean. In his house, too, there was always rice standing ready for 500 Brethren, — so that the merchant's house was to the Brotherhood like a pool dug where foiir roads meet, yea, like mother and father was he to them. Therefore, even the All-Enlightened Buddha used to go to his house, and the Eighty Chief Elders too ; and the number of other Brethren passing in and out was beyond measure.

Now his house was seven stories high and had seven portals ; and over the fourth gateway dwelt a fairy who was a heretic. When the All-Enlightened Buddha came into the house, she could not stay in her abode on high, but came down with her children to the ground-floor; and she had to do the like whenever the Eighty Chief Elders or the other Elders came in and out. Thought she, "So long as the ascetic Gotama and his disciples keep coming into this house, I can have no peace here ; I can't be eternally coming downstairs to the ground floor. I must contrive to stop them from coming any more to this house." So one day, when the business manager had retired to rest, she appeared before him in visible shape. "Who is that?" said he. "It is I," was the reply; "the fairy who lives over the fourth gateway." "What brings you here?" "You don't see what the merchant is doing. Heedless of his own futm'e, he is drawing upon his resources, only to enrich the ascetic Gotama. He engages in no traffic ; he undertakes no business. Advise the merchant to attend to his business, and arrange that the ascetic Gotama with his disciples shall come no more into the house."

Then said he, "Foolish Fairy, if the merchant does spend his money, he spends it on the Faith of the Buddha, which leads to Salvation. Even if he were to seize me by the hair and sell me for a slave, I will say nothing. Begone!" Another day, she went to the merchant's eldest son and gave him the same advice. And he flouted her in just the same manner. But to the merchant himself she did not so much as dare to speak on the matter. Now by dint of unending munificence [228] and of doing no business, the merchant's incomings diminished and his estate grew less and less ; so that he sank by degrees into poverty, and liis table, his dress, and his bed and food were no longer what they had once been. Yet, in spite of his altered circumstances. he continued to entertain the Brotherhood, tliough he was no longer able to feast theui. So one day when he had made liis bow and taken his seat, the Master said to him, "Householder, are gifts being given at your house?" "Yes, sir," said ho ; "but there's only a little sour husk- porridge, left over from yesterday." "Be not distressed, householder, at the thought that you can only offer what is mipalatable. If the heart be good, the food given to Buddhas, Pacceka Buddhas^ and their disciples, cannot but be good too. And why ?— Because of the greatness of the fruit thereof. For he who can make his heart acceptable cannot give an unaccej)table gift, — as is to be testified by the following passage : —

For, if the heart have faith, no gift is small To Buddhas or to their disciples true. 'Tis said no service can be reckoned small That's paid to Buddhas, lords of great renown. Mark well what fruit rewarded that poor gift Of pottage, — dried-up, sour, and lacking salt'-^." Also, he said this further thing, "Householder, in giving this unpalatable gift, you are giving it to those who have entered on the Noble Eightfold Bath. Whereas 1, when in Velama's time I stirred up all India by giving the seven things of price, and in my largesse poured them forth as though i had made into one mighty stream the five great rivers, — I yet found none who had reached the Three Kefuges or kept the Five Commandments; for rare are those who are worthy of offerings. Therefore, let not your heart be troubled by the thought that your gift is unpalatable." And so saying, he repeated the Velamaka Sutta'^. Now that fairy who had not dared to speak to the merchant in the days of his magnificence, thought that now he was poor he would hearken to her, and so, entering his chamljer at dead of night she appeared before him in visible shape, standing in mid-air. "Who's thatT' said the merchant, when he became aware of her presence. "I am the fairy, great merchant, who dwells over the fourth gateway." "What brings you here '^" "To give you counsel." "Proceed, then." "Great merchant, you take no thought for your own future or for your own children.

You have expended vast sums on the Faith of the ascetic Gotama; in fact, by long-continued [229] expenditure and by not undertaking new business you have been brought by the ascetic Gotama to poverty. But even in your poverty you do not shake oft" the ascetic Gotama ! The ascetics are in and out of your house this very day just the same ! What they have had of you cannot be recovered. That may be taken for certain. But henceforth don't you go yourself to the ascetic Gotama and don't let his disciples set foot inside your house. Do not even turn to look at the ascetic Gotama but attend to your trade and traffic in order to restore the family estate."

Then he said to her, "Was this the counsel you wanted to give me?" Said the merchant, "The mighty Lord of Wisdom has made me proof against a hundred, a thousand, yea against a hundred thousand fairies such as you are ! My faith is strong and steadfast as Mount Sineru! My substance has been expended on the Faith that loads to Salvation. Wicked are your words ; it is a blow aimed at the Faith of the Buddhas by you, you wicked and impudent witch. I cannot live under the same roof with you ; be oft' at once from my house and seek shelter elsewhere !" Hearing these words of that converted man and elect disciple, she could not stay, but repairing to her dwelling, took her 1 All Buddhas have attained to complete illumination ; but a Pacceka Buddha keeps his knowledge to himself and, unlike a 'Perfect Buddha,' does not preach the saving truth to his fellow-men. - The first two lines are from the Viiiidna-vatthu, page 44. '^ This Sutta is referred to at page 234 of the Sumahgala-Vilasini, but is otherwise unknown as yet to European scholars. 102 The Jataha. Book I. children by the hand and went forth. But thrjugh she went, she was minded, if she could not find herself a lodging elsewhere, to appease the merchant and return to dwell in his house ; and in this mind she repaii'ed to the tutelary deity of the city and with due salutation stood before him.

Being asked what had brought her thither, she said, "My lord, I have been speaking imprudently to Anatha-pindika, and he in his anger has turned me out of my home. Take me to him and make it up between us, so that he may let me live there again." "But what was it you said to the merchant?" "I told iiim for the future not to support the Buddha and the Ordei-, and not to let the ascetic Gotama set foot again in his house. This is what I said, my lord." "Wicked were your words; it was a blow aimed at the Faith. I cannot take you with me to the merchant." Meeting with no support from him, she went to the Four Great Eegents of the world. And being repulsed by them in the same mannci', she went on to Sakka, king of Devas, and told him her story, beseeching him still more earnestly, as follows, "Deva, finding no shelter, I wander about homeless, leading my children by the hand. Grant me of your majesty some place wherein to dwell."

And he too said to her, "You have done wickedly; it was a blow aimed at the Conqueror's Faith. I cannot speak to the merchant on your behalf But I can tell you one way [230] wherel)y the merchant may be led to pardon you." "Pray tell me, deva." "Men have had eighteen crores of the merchant on bonds. Take the semblance of his agent, and without telling anybody repair to their houses with the bonds, in the company of .some young goblins. Stand in the middle of their houses with the bond in one hand and a receipt in the other, and terrify them with your goblin power, saying, 'Here's yom- acknowledgment of the debt. Our merchant did not move in the matter while he was affluent; but now he is poor, and 3'ou must pay up the money you owe.' By your goblin power obtain all those eighteen crores of gold and fill the merchant's empty treasuries. He had another ti-easure buried in the banks of the river AciravatI, but when the bank was washed away, the treasiu'e was swept into the sea. Get that back also by your supernatural power and store it in his treasuries. Further, there is another sum of eighteen crores lying unowned in such and such a place. Bring that too and jwur the money into his empty treasuries. When you have atoned by the recovery of these iifty-four crores, ask the mei'chant to forgive you." "Very good, deva," said she. And she set to work obediently, and did just as she had been bidden. When she had recovered all the money, she went into the merchant's chamber at dead of night and appeared before him in visible shape standing in the air.

The merchant asking who wna there, she replied, "It is I, great merchant, the blind and foolish fairy who lived over your fourth gateway. In the greatness of my infjxtuate folly I knew not the virtues of a Buddha, and so came to say what I said to you some days ago. Pardon me my fault ! At the instance of Sakka, king of Devas, I have made atonement by recovering the eighteen crores owing to you, the eighteen crores which had been washed down into the sea, and another eighteen crores which were lying unowned in such and such a place, — making fifty-four crores in all, which I have poured into your empty treasurechamtters. The sum you expended on the Monastery at Jetavana is now made up again. Whilst I have nowhere to dwell, I am in misery. Bear not in mind what I did in my ignorant folly, great merchant, but pardon me." Anatha-pindika, hearing what she said, thoiight to himself, "She is a fairy, and she says she has atoned, and confesses her fault. The Master shall consider this and make his virtues known to her. I will take her befoi'e the All-Enlightened Buddha." So he said, "My good fairy, if you want me to pardon you, ask me in the presence of the master." "Very good," said she, "I will. Take me along with you to the Master." "Certainly," said he. And early in the morning, when night was just passing away, he took her with him to the IMaster, and told the Blessed One all that she had done.

Hearing this, the Master said, "You see, householder, how the sinful man regards sin [231] as excellent before it ripens to its fruit. But when it has ripened, then he sees sin to be sin. Likewise the good man looks on his goodness as sill before it ripens to its fruit; but wlicn it ripens, he sees it to be goodness." And so saying, he repeated these two stanzas from the Dhaniniapada: — The sinner thinks his sinful deed is good, So long as sin has ripened not to fruit. But when his sin at last to ripeness grows, The sinner surely sees "'twas sin I wrought." The good man thinks his goodness is but sin. So long as it has ripened not to fruit. But when his goodness unto ripeness grows. The good man surely sees "'twas good I wrought ^" At tiie close of these stanzas that fairy was established in the Fruit of the First Path. She fell at the Wheel-marked feet of the Master, crying, "Staiiietl as I was with passion, depraved by sin, misled by delusion, and blinded by ignorance, I spoke wickedly because I knew not your virtues. Pardon me!" Then she received pardon fr(jm the JNlaster and from the great merchant.

At this time Anatha-pindika sang his own praises in t.he Master's presence, saying, "Sir, though this fairy did her best to stop me from giving support to the Buddha and his following, sh« could not succeed ; and though she tried to stop me from giving gifts, yet I gave them still ! Was not this goodness on my part?" Said the Master, "You, householder^ are a converted man and an elect disciple; your ftiith is firm and your vision is purified. No marvel then that ycni were not sto][)ped by this impotent fairy. The marvel was that the wise and good of a bygone da}', when a Buddha had not appeared, and when knowledge had not ripened to its full fruit, should from the heart of a lotus-tiower have given gifts, although Mara, lord of tlie Realm of Lusts, appeared in mid-heaven, shouting, 'If you give gifts, you shall be roasted in this hell,' — and shewing them therewithal a pit eighty cubits deep, tilled with red-hot embers." And so saying, at the request of Anatha-pindika, he told this stoiy of the past. Once on a time when Brahmadatta was reigning in Benares, the Bodhisatta came to life in the family of the Lord High Treasurer of Benares, and was brought up in the lap of all luxury like a royal prince. By the time he was come to years of discretion, being barely sixteen years old, he had made himself perfect in all accomplishments. At his father's death he filled the office of Lord High Treasurer, and built six almonries, one at each of the four gates of the city, one in the centre of the city, and one at the gate of his own mansion. Very bountiful was he [232], and he kept the commandments, and observed the fest-day duties.

JSTow one day at breakfast-time when dainty fare of exquisite taste and variety was being brought in for the Bodhisatta, a Pacceka Buddha rising from a seven days' trance of mystic ecstasy, and noticing that it was time to go his rounds, bethought him that it would be well to visit the Treasurer of Benares that morning. So he cleaned his teeth with a toothstick made from the betel-vine, washed his mouth with water from Lake Anotatta, put on his under-cloth as he stood on the tableland of Manosila, fastened on his girdle, donned his outer-cloth ; and, equipped with a bowl 1 The verses are Nos. 119 and 120 in the Dliammapada. 104 The Jataka. Book I. whioli lie called into being for the pui'ijose, he passed through the air and arrived at the gate of the mansion just as the Bodhisatta's breakfast was taken in. As soon as the Bodhisatta became aware of his presence there, he rose at once from his seat and looked at the attendant, indicating that a service was required. "What am I to do, my lord?'' "Bring his reverence's bowl," said the Bodhisatta. At that very instant Mara the Wicked rose up in a state of great excitement, saying, "It is seven days since the Pacceka Buddha had food given him ; if he gets none to-day, he will perish. I will destroy him and stop the Treasurer too from giving." And that very instant he went and called into being within the mansion a pit of red-hot embers, eighty cubits deep, filled with Acacia- charcoal, all ablaze and aflame like the great hell of Avici. When he had created this pit, Mara himself took his stand in mid-air.

When the man who was on his way to fetch the bowl became aware of this, he was terrified and started back. " What makes you start back, my man]" asked the Bodhisatta. "My lord," was the answer, "there's a great pit of red-hot embei-s blazing and flaming in the middle of the house." And as man after man got to the spot, they all were panicstricken, and ran away as fast as their legs would carry them. Thought the Bodhisatta to himself, " Mara, the Enthraller, must have been exerting himself to-day to stop me from alms-giving. 1 have yet to learn, however, that I am to be shaken by a hundred, or by a thousand, Maras. We will see this day whose strength is the stronger, whose might is the mightier, mine or Mara's." So taking in his own hand the bowl which stood ready, he passed out from the house, and, standing on the brink of the fiery pit, looked up to the heavens. Seeing Mara, he said, " Who are you 1 " "I am Mara," was the answer. " Did you call into being this pit of red-hot embers ? " " Yes, I did." [233] "Why? " "To stop you from alms-giving and to destroy the life of that Pacceka Buddha." " I will not permit you either to stop me from my alms-giving or to destroy the life of the Pacceka Buddha. I am going to see to-day whether your strength or mine is the greater." And still standing on the brink of that fiery pit, he cried, " Reverend Pacceka Buddha, even though I be in act to fall headlong into this pit of red-hot embers, I will not turn back. Only vouchsafe to take the food I bring." And so saying he repeated this stanza : —

Far rather will I headlong plunge amain Full in this gulf of hell, than stoop to shame I Vouchsafe, sir, at my hands to take this alms ! With these words the Bodhisatta, grasping the bowl of food, strode oii with undaunted resolution right on to the surface of the pit of fire. But even as he did bO, there rose up to the surfuce through all the eighty cubits of the pit's depth a large and peerless lotus-flower, which received the feet of the Bodhisatta ■ And from it there came a measure of pollen which fell on the head of the Great Being, so that his whole body was as it were sprinkled from head to foot with dust of gold ! Standing right in the heart of the lotus, he poured the dainty food into the bowl of the Pacceka Buddha. And when the latter had taken the food and returned thanks, he ilung his bowl aloft into the heavens, and right in the sight of all the people he hiuiself rose Ijodily into the air likewise, and passed away to the Himalayas again, seeming to tread a track formed of clouds fantastically sliaj)ed. And Mara, too, defeated and dejected, j)assed away back to his own abode.

But the Bodhisatta, still standing in the lotus, preached [234] the Truth to the people, extolling alms-giving and the commandments ; after which, girt round by the escorting multitude, he passed into his own mansion once more. And all his life long he shewed charity and did other good works, till in the end he passed away to fare according to his deserts. Said the Master, "It was no marvel, layman, that you, with your discernment of the truth, were not overcome now by the fairy ; the real mai'vel was what the wise and good did in bygone days." His lesson ended, the Master shewed the connexion, and identified the Birth by saying, "The Pacceka JJuddha of those days passed away, never to be born again, i was myself the Treasurer of Benares who, defeating Mara, and standing in the heart of the lotus, placed alms in the bowl of the Pacceka Buddha." [iVote. See Giles, 'Strange Stories from a Chinese Studio,' i. 396.]

"The headstrong man" — This story was told by the Master while at Jetavana, about the Elder Losaka Tissa. 'Who,' you ask, 'was this Elder Losaka Tissa ^' Well; his father was a fisherman in Kosala, and he was the bane of his family ; and, when a Brother, never had anything given to him. His previous existence ended, he hatl been conceived by a certain fisherman's wife in a fishing-village of a thousand families in Kosala. And on the day he was conceived all those thousand fjxmilies, net in hand, went fishing in river and pool but failed to catch one .single tish ; and 106 The Jataka. Book I. the like bad fortune dogged them from th;it day forward. Also, before his birth, the village was destroyed seven times by tire, and visited seven times by the king's vengeance. So in time it came to pass that the people fell into a wretched plight. Reflecting that snch had not been their lot in formei' days, but that now they were going to rack and ruin, they concluded that there must be some breeder of misfortune among them, and resolved to divide into two bands. This they did ; and there were then two bands of five hundred families each. Thenceforward, ruin dogged the band which included the parents of the future Losaka, whilst the other five hundred families throve apace. So the former resolved to go on halving their numbers, and did so, mitil this one family was parted from all the rest.

Then they knew that the breeder of misfortune wtis in that family, and with blows drove them away. [235] With difficulty could his mother get a livelihood ; but, when her time was come, she gave bii'th to her son in a certain place. (He that is born into his last existence camiot be killed. For like a lamp within a jar, even so securely within his breast burns the flame of his destiny to become an Arahat.) The mother took care of the child till he could nui about, and when he could run about then she put a potsherd in his hands, and, bidding him go into a house to beg, ran away. Thenceforward, the solitary child used to beg his food thereabouts and sleep where he could. He was unwashed and unkempt, and made a living after the fashion of a mud-eating goblin ^ When he was seven years old, he was picking up and eating, like a cr<nv, lump by lump, any rice he could find outside a house door where they flung away the rinsings of the rice-pots.

Sariputta, Captain of the Faith, going into Savatthi on his round for alms, noticed the child, and, wondei'ing what village the hapless creature came from, was filled with love for him and called out "Come here." The child came, bowed to the Elder, and stood before him. Then said Sariputta, "What village do you belong to, and where arc your parents I " "I am destitute, sir," said the child; "for my parents said they were tii-ed out, and so forsook me, and went away." "Would you like to become a Brother T' "Indeed I should, sir; l)ut who would receive a poor wretch like me into the Order?" "I will." "Then, pray let me become a Brother." The Elder gave the child a meal and took him to the monastery, washed him with his own hands, and admitted him a Novice first and a full Brother afterwards, whcm he was old enough. In his old age he was known as Elder Losaka Tissa; he was always unlucky 2, and but little was given to him. The story goes that, no matter how lavish the charity, he never got enough to eat, but only just enough to keep himself alive. A single ladle of rice seemed to fill his alms-bowl to the brim, so that the charitable thought his bowl was full and bestowed the rest of their rice on the next. When rice was being put into his bowl, it is said that the rice in the giver's dish used to vanish away. And so with every kind of food. Even when, as time went by, he had developed Discernment and so won the highest Fruit which is Arahatship, he still got but little.

In the fullness of time, when the materials which determined his separate existence'' were outworn, the day came for him to pass away. And the Captain ' On the authority of ^ahhxxti, paHisu-pi sac ah a are said to form the fourth class of Petm (i^retas) or 'ghosts' (who were cursed at once with cavernous maws and with mouths no bigger than a needle's eye, so that their voracity was never satisfied even in their customary coprophagic state). But neither Hardy's Manual of Buddhism (p. 58) nor the Milinda {]}. 294) mentions paihsu-pisucahd as one of the four classes of Petas. '^ Beading nippiiuuo instead of nippanuo. See Ceylon R. A. S. Journal, 1884, p. 158; and compare apunno on p. 236, line 20 of the Pali original. ■' As protoplasm is 'the physical basis of life,' so dyii-samkhdrd are its moral basis according to Buddhist ideas. This Lebensstoff it is the aim of Buddhism to uproot, so that there may be no re-birth. of the Fiiith, as he meditated, had knowledge of thi.s, and thought to hiui.self, 'Losaka Tissa will pass away to-day ; and to-day at any rate I will see that he has enough to eat.' So he took the Elder and came to Savatthi for alms. But, because Losaka was with him, it was all in vain that Sariputta hold out his hand for alms in populous Savatthi ; not so much as a bow was vouchsafed him. So he bade the Polder go back and seat himself in the sitting-hall of the jMonastery, and collected food which he sent with a message [23(5] tliat it was to be given to Losaka. Those t<j whom he gave it took the food and went tlicir way, but, forgetting all about Losaka, ate it themselves. So when Sariputta rose up, and was entering the monastery, Losaka came to him and saluted him. Sariputta sto[)ped, and turning round said, "Well, did you get the food, brother r'

"I shall, no doubt, get it in good time," said the Elder. Sariputta Wiis greatly troubled, and looked to sec what hour it was. But noon was ])assed^ "Stay here, lirother," said Sariputta; "and do not move"; and he made Lo.saka Tissa sit down in the sitting-hal), and set out for the palace of the king of Kosala. The king bade his bowl be taken, and saying that it was past noon ;ind therefore not the time to eat rice, ordered his bowl to be filled with tiie four sweet kinds of food^. With this he returned, and stood bef(.)re him, bowl in hand, bidding the sage eat. But the Elder was ashamed, because of the revei'ence he had towards Sariputta, and would not eat. "Come, brother Tissa," said Sariputta, "'tis I nuist stand with the bowl ; sit you down and eat. If the bowl left my hand, everytliing in it would vanish away.'' So the venerable p]Idcr Losaka Tissa ate the sweets, whilst the exalted Captain of the Faith stood holding the bowl; and thanks to tlic hitter's merits and efficacy the food did not vanish. So the Elder Losaka Tissa ate as nnich as he wanted and was satisfied, and that selfsame day passed away by that death whereby existence ceases for ever.

The All-Enlightened Buddha stood by, and saw the body Ijurned ; and they built a shrine for the collected ashes. Seated in conclave in the Hall of Truth, the Brethren said, "Brethren, Losaka was imlucky, and little was given to him. How came he with liis unluck and his neediness to win the glory of Arahatship?" Entering the Hall, the Master asked what they were talking about ; and they told him. "Brethren," said he, "this Brother's own actions were the cause both of his receiving so little, and of his becoming an Arahat. In bygone days he had prevented others from receiving, and that is why he received so little himself. But it was by his meditating on sorrow, transitoriness, and the absence of an abiding principle in things, that he won Arahatship for himself." And so saying, he told this story of the past. Once uijon a time, in tlie days of the Buddha Kassapa, there was a Brother who lived the village life and was maintained by a country squire. He was regular in his conduct as a Brother^, virtuous in his lite, and was filled to overflowing with insight. Tliere was also an Elder, an Arahat, who lived with his fellows on terms of equality, and at the time of the story paid a first visit to the village where lived the sqiiire who sui)ported

1 i.e. no more rice could be eaten that day. If a shadow of a finger's breadth is cast by an upright stick, a strict Brother will not eat rice and like foods. 2 Honey, ghee, butter, and sugar. 3 Pakatatto is explained by Rhys Davids and Oldenberg in the note to page 340 of Vol. XVII. of the Sacred Books of the East as meaning a Brother " who has not made himself liable to any di.scii5linary proceeding, has committed no irregularity." 108 The Jataka. Book I. this Brother. So pleased was the squire [237] with the very demeanour of the Elder that, taking his bowl, he led him into the house and with every mark of respect invited him to eat. Then he listened to a short discourse by the Elder, and at its close said, with a bow, "Sir, pray do not journey further than our monastery close by; in the evening I will come and call upon you there." So the Elder went to the monastery, saluting the resident Brother on his entrance ; and, lirst courteously asking leave, took a seat by his side. The Brother received him with all friendliness, and asked whether any food had been given him as alms.

"Oh yes," replied the Elder. "Where, pray?" "Why, in your village close by, at the squire's house." And so saying, the Elder asked to be shewn his cell and made it ready. Then laying aside his bowl and robe, and seating himself, he became absorbed in blissful Insight and enjoyed the bliss of the Fruits of the Paths. In the evening came the squire, with servants carrying flowers and l)erfunies and lamjjs and oil. Saluting the resident Brother, he asked whether a guest had appeared, an Elder. Being told that he had, the squire asked where he was and learned which cell had been given him. Then the squire went to the Elder and, first bowing courteously, seated himself by the Elder's side and listened to a discourse. In the cool of the evening the squire made his offerings at the Tope and Bo-Tree, lit his lamp, and departed with an invitation to both Elder and Brother to come up to his house next day for their meal. "I'm losing my hold on the squix'e," thought the Brother. " If this Elder stops, I shall count for nothing with him." So he was discontented and fell a-scheming how to make the Elder see that he must not settle down there for good. Accordingly, when the Elder came to pay his respects in the early morning, the Brother did not open his lips. The Arahat read the other's thoughts and said to himself, "This Brother knows not that I shall never stand in his light either with the family that supports him or with his Brotherhood." And going back to his cell, he became absorbed in the bliss of Insight and in the bliss of the Fruits.

Next day, the resident Brothei-, having first knocked gingerly on the gong', and having tapped on the gong with the back of his nail, went off alone to the squire's house. Taking from him his alms-bowl, the squire bade him be seated and asked where the stranger was. " I know no news of your friend," said the Brother. " Though I knocked on the gong and tapped at his door, I couldn't wake him. I can 1 For gandi meaning ' a gong,' cf. Jut. iv. 306 ; but see note p. 213 of Vol. xx. of S. B. K. It is doubtful what kapitthena can mean. Can the true reading be [punadivase) nakhapitthcna, i.e. ' with the back of his nail ' ? The resident Brother's object was to go through the form of waking the guest without disturbing his slumbers. only presume that his dainty fare [238] here yesterday has disagreed with him and that he is still a-bed in consequence. Possibly such doings may commend themselves to you." (Meantime the Arahat, who had waited till the time came to go his round for alms, had washed and dressed and risen witli bowl and robe in the air and gone elsewhere.)

The squire gave the Brother rice and milk to eat, with ghee and sugar and honey in it. Then he had his bowl scoured with perfumed chunam powder and filled afresh, saying, "Sir, the Elder must be fatigued with his journey ; take him this." Without demur the Brother took the food and went his way, thinking to himself, "If our friend once gets a taste of this, taking him by the throat and kicking him out of doors won't get rid of him. But how can I get rid of it? If I give it away to a human being, it will be known. If I throw it into the water, the ghee will float on top. And as for throwing it away on the ground, that will only bring all the crows of the district flocking to the spot." In his perplexity his eye fell on a field that had been fired, and, scraping out the embers, he flung the contents of his bowl into the hole, filled in the embers on the top, and went ofi" home. Not finding the Elder there, he thought that the Arahat had understood his jealousy and departed. " Woe is me," he cried, " for my greed has made me to sin."

And thenceforth sore affliction befell him and he became like a living ghost. Dying soon after, he was re-born in hell and there was tormented for hundreds of thousands of years. By reason of his ripening sin, in five hundred successive births he was an ogre and never had enough to eat, except one day when he enjoyed a surfeit of offiil. Next, for five hundred more existences he was a dog, and here too, only on one single day had his fill — of a vomit of rice ; on no other occasion did he have enough to eat. Even when he ceased to be a dog, he was only born into a beggar family in a Kasi village. From the hour of his birth, that family became still more beggared, and he never got half as much water-gruel as he wanted. And he was called Mitta-vindaka [239]. Unable at last to endure the pangs of hunger' that now beset them, his father and mother beat him and drove him away, crying, " Begone, you curse ! " In the coui'se of his wanderings, the little outcast came to Benares, where in those days the Bodhisatta was a teacher of world-wide fame with five hundred young Brahmins to teach. In those times the Benares folk used to give day by day commons of food to poor lads and had them taught free, and so this Mitta-vindaka also became a charity scholar under the Bodhisatta. But lie was fierce and intractable, always fighting witli his fellows

^ Reading cJwfakadiikkhaw for Fausboll's j(7^(/,7/(/(//,A7/(M/i. 110 The Jataka. Book I. and heedless of his master's reproofs ; and so the Bodhisatta's fees fell oflf. And as he qnai-relled so, and would not brook reproof, the youth ended byrunning away, and came to a border-village where he hired himself out for a living, and married a miserably poor woman by whom he had two children. Later, the villagers paid him to teacli them what was true doctrine and what was false, and gave him a hut to live in at the entrance to their village. But, all because of Mitfca-vindaka's coming to live among them, the king's vengeance fell seven times on those villagers, and seven times were their homes burned to the ground ; seven times too did their watertank dry up. Then they considered the matter and agreed that it was not so with them before Mitta-vindaka's coming, but that ever since he came they had l>een going from bad to worse. So with blows they drove him from their village ; and forth he went with his family, and came to a haunted forest. And there the demons killed and ate his wife and children. Fleeing thence, he came after many wanderings to a village on the coast called Gambhira, arriving on a day when a ship was putting to sea ; and he hii'ed himself for service aboard. For a week the ship held on her way, but on the seventh day she came to a complete standstill in mid-ocean, as though she had run upon a rock. Then they cast lots, in order to rid them of their bane ; and seven times the lot fell on Mitta-vindaka. So they gave him a raft of bamboos, and laying hold of him, cast him overboard. And forthwith the ship made way again [240].

Mitta-vindaka clambered on to his bamboos and floated on the waves. Thanks to his having obeyed the commandments in the times of the Buddha Kassapa, he found in mid-ocean four daughters of the gods dwelling in a palace of crystal, with whom he dwelt happily for seven days. Now palace-ghosts enjoy happiness only for seven days at a time ; and so, when the seventh day came and they had to depart to their punishment, they left him with an injimction to await their return. But no sooner were they departed, than Mitta-vindaka put off on his raft again and came to where eight daughters of the gods dwelt in a palace of silver. Leaving them in turn, he came to where sixteen daughters of the gods dwelt in a palace of jewels, and thereafter to where thirty-two dwelt in a palace of gold. Paying no regard to their words, again he sailed away and came to a city of ogres, set among islands. And there an ogress was ranging about in the shape of a goat. Not knowing that she was an ogress, Mitta-vindaka thought to make a meal off the goat, and seized hold of the creature by the leg. Straightway, by virtue of her demon-nature, she hurled him up and away over the ocean, and plump he fell in a thornbrake on the slopes of the dry moat of Benares, and thence rolled to earth.

Now it chanced that at tliat time thieves used to frequent that moat and kill the King's goats ; and the goatherds had hidden themselves hard by to catch the rascals. Mitta-vindaka picked himself up and saw the goats. Thoiight he to himself, " Well, it was a goat in an island in the ocean that, being seized by the leg, hurled me here over seas. Perha})s, if I do the same by one of these goats, I may get hurled back again to where the daughters of the gods dwell in their ocean palaces." So, without thinking, he seized one of the goats by the leg. At once the goat began to bleat, and the goatherds came running up from every side. They laid hold of him at once, crying, " This is the thief that has so long lived on the King's goats." And they beat him and began to haul him away in bonds to the King. Just at that time the Bodhisatta, with his five hundred yoimg Brahmins round him, was coming out of the city to bathe. Seeing and recognising Mitta-vindaka, he said to the goatherds, '' Why, this is a pupil of mine, my good men; what have you seized him for?" "Master," said they, '* we caught this thief in the act of seizing a goat by the leg, and that's why we've got hold of him." "Well," [241] said the Bodhisatta, "suppose you hand him over to us to live with us as our slave." "All right, sir," replied the men, and letting their prisoner go, they went their way. Then the Bodhisatta asked Mitta-vindaka where he had been all that long time; and Mitta-vindaka told him all that he had done.

" 'Tis tlu'ougli not hearkening to those who wished him well," said the Bodhisatta, " that he has suffered all these misfortunes." And Ik; i-ecited this stanza : — The headstrong man who, when exhorted, pays No heed to friends who kindly counsel give, Shall come to certain harm, — like Mittaka, When by the leg he seized the grazing goat. And in those times both that Teacher and Mitta-vindaka passed away, and their after-lot was accordin;:' to their deeds. Said the Master, "This Losaka was himself the cause both of his getting little and of his getting Arahatship." His lesson ended, he shewed the connexion and identified the Birth by saying, "The Elder Losaka Tissa was the Mitta-vindaka of those days, and I the Teacher of world-wide fame^." 1 Compare Nos. 82, 104, 369, 439, Petavatthu No. 43, Avaddna-Sataka No. 50, J. As. 1878, and Ind. Antiq. x. 293. A dubious attempt to trace in the wauderings of Mittaviuda the germ of part of the wanderings of Ulysses, has been made by the Bishop of Colombo in the Cei/lon R. A. ,<?. .Tovrmtl, 1884. 112 The Jdtaka. Booh I.

"T'/ie headstrong man."— This story was told by the Master while at Jetavana, about a certain greedy Brother. His greediness will be related in the Ninth Book in the Kaka-Jatakai. But on this occasion the Brethren told the Master, saying, "Sir, this Brother is greedy." Said the Master, "Is it true [242] as they say, Brother, that you are greedy?" "Yes, sir," was the reply. "So too in bygone days, Brother, you were greedy, and by reason of your o-reediness lost your life ; also you caused the wise and good to lose their home." And so saying he told this story of the past. Once on a time when Brahmadatta was reigning in Benare-s, the Bodhisatta was born a pigeon. Now the Benares folk of those days, as an act of goodness, used to hang up straw-baskets in divers places for the shelter and comfort of the birds; and the cook of the Lord High Treasurer of Benares hung up one of these baskets in his kitchen. In this basket the Bodhisatta took up his abode, sallying out at daybreak in quest of food, and returning home in the evening; and so he lived his life. But one day a crow, flying over the kitchen, snuffed up the goodly savour from the salt and fresh fisli and meat there, and was filled with longing to taste it. Casting about how to have his will, he perched hard by, and at evening saw the Bodhisatta come home and go into the kitchen. " Ah ! " thought he, " I can manage it through the pigeon."

So back he came next day at dawn, and, when the Bodhisatta sallied out in quest of food, kept following him about from place to place like his shadow. So the Bodhisatta said, "Why do you keep with me, friend?" "My lord," answered the crow, "your demeanour has won my admiration; and henceforth it is my wish to follow you." "But your kind of food and mine, friend, is not the same," said the Bodhisatta; "you will be hard put to it if you attach yourself to me." " My lord," said the crow, " when you are seeking your food, I will feed too, by your side." "So be it, then," said the Bodhisatta; "only you must be earnest." And with this admonition to the crow, the Bodhisatta ranged about pecking up grass-seeds; whilst the other went about turning over cowdung and pick- ' This is au inadvertence of the compiler. There is no Kaka-jataka in the 9tli book, though there is in the Cth (No. 395), where it is stated that 'the Introdnctory Story has already been related.' See Nos. 274 and 375. ing out the insects underneath till he had got his fill. Then back he came to the Bodhisatta and remarked, " My lord, you give too much time to eating; excess therein should be shunned."

And when the Bodhisatta had fed and reached home again at evening, in flew the crow with him into the kitchen [243]. "Why, our bird has brought another home with him;" exclaimed the cook, and hung up a second basket for the crow. And from that time onward the two birds dwelt together in the kitchen. Now one day the Lord High Treasurer had in a store of fish which the cook hung up about the kitchen. Filled with greedy longing at the sight, the crow made up his mind to stay at home next day and treat himself to this excellent fare. So all the night long he lay groaning away ; and next day, when the Bodhisatta was starting in search of food, and cried, " Come along, friend crow," the crow replied, "Go without me, my lord; for I have a pain in my stomach." " Friend," answered the Bodhisatta, " I never heard of crows having pains in their stomachs before. True, crows feel faint in each of the three night-watches; but if they eat a lamp-wick, their hunger is appeased for the moment^ You must be hankering after the fish in the kitchen here. Come now, man's food will not agree with you. Do not give way like this, but come and seek your food with me." "Indeed, I am not able, my lord," said the crow. "Well, your own conduct will shew," said the Bodhisatta. " Only fall not a prey to greed, but stand steadfast." And with this exhortation, away he flew to find his daily food.

The cook took several kinds of fish, and dressed some one way, some another. Then lifting the lids off" his saucepans a little to let the steam out, he put a colander on the top of one and went outside the door, where he stood wiping the sweat from his brow. Just at that moment out popped the crow's head from the basket. A glance told him that the cook was away, and, "Now or never," thought he, "is my time. The only question is shall I choose minced meat or a big lump?" Arguing that it takes a long time to make a full meal of minced meat, he resolved to take a large piece of fish and sit and eat it in his basket. So out he flew and alighted on the colander. " Click " went the colander. " What can that be? " said the cook, running in on hearing the noise. Seeing the crow, he cried, " Oh, there's that rascally crow wanting to eat my master's dinner. I have to work for my master, not for that rascal ! What's he to me, I should like to know i " So, first shutting the door, he caught the crow and plucked every feather [244] off" his body. Then, he pounded up ginger with salt and cumin, and mixed in sour buttermilk — finally sousing the crow in the pickle and flinging him back into his

1 Cf. Vol. II. p. 262. C. J. 8 114 The Jdtaka. Book I. basket. And there the crow lay groaning, overcome by the agony of his At evening the Boclhisatta came back, and saw the wretched plight of the crow. "Ah! greedy crow," he exclaimed, "you would not heed my words, and now your own greed has worked you woe." So saying, he repeated this stanza : — The headstrong man who, when exhorted, pays No heed to friends who kindly counsel give. Shall surely perish, like the greedy crow, Who laughed to scorn the pigeon's warning words. Then, exclaiming "I too can no longer dwell here," the Bodhisatta flew away. But the crow died there and then, and the cook flung him, basket and all, on the dust-heap. Said the Master, "You were greedy, Brother, in bygone times, just as you are now ; and all because of your greediness the wise and good of those days had to abandon their homes." Having ended this lesson, the Master preached the Four Truths, at the close whereof that Brother won the Fruit of the Second Path. Then the Master shewed the connexion and identified the Birth as follows: — "The greedy Brother was the crow of those times, and I the pigeon."

"T'/ie headstrong «ia>i."— This story was told by the Master while at Jetavana, about a certain headstrong Brother. For the Blessed One asked him whether the report was true that he was headstrong, and the Brother admitted that it was. "Brother," said the Master, "this is not the first time you have been headstrong : you were just as headstrong in former days also, [245] and, as the result of your headstrong refusal to follow the advice of the wise and good, you met your end by the bite of a snake." And so saying, he told this story of the past. Once on a time when Brahmadatta was reigning in Benares, the Bodhisatta was born into a wealthy family in the Kingdom of Kasi. Having come to years of discretion, he saw how from passion springs pain and how true bliss comes by the abandonment of passion. So he put lusts from him, and going forth to the Himalayas became a hermit, winning by fulfilment of the ordained mystic meditations the five orders of the Higher Knowledge and tlie eight Attainments. And as he lived his life in the rapture of Insight, he came in after times to have a large following of five hundred hermits, whose teacher he was.

Now one day a yoxing poisonous viper, wandering about as vipers do, came to the hut of one of the hermits ; and that Brother grew as fond of the creature as if it were his own child, housing it in a joint of hamboo and shewing kindness to it. And because it was lodged in a joint of bamboo, the viper was known by the name of "Bamboo." Moreover, because the hermit was as fond of the viper as if it were his own child, they called him "Bamboo's Father." Hearing that one of the Bi'ethren was keeping a viper, the Bodhisatta sent for that Brother and asked whether the report was true. When told that it was true, the Bodhisatta said, "A viper can never be trusted; keep it no longer." "But," urged the Brother, "my viper is dear to me as a pujnl to a teacher; — T could not live without him." "Well then," answered the Bodhisatta, "know that this very snake will lose you your life." But heedless of the master's warning, that Brother still kept the pet he could not bear to part with. Only a very few days later all the Brethren went out to gather fruits, and coming to a spot where all kinds grew in plenty, they stayed there two or three days. With them went "Bamboo's Father," leaving his viper behind in its bamboo prison. Two or three days afterwards, when he came back, he bethought him of feeding the creature, and, opening the cane, stretched out his hand, saying, "Come, my son; you must be hungry." But angry with its long fast, the viper bit his outstretched hand, killing him on the spot, and made its escape into the forest.

Seeing him lying there dead, the Brethren came and told the Bodhisatta [246], who bade the body be burned. Then, seated in their midst, he exhorted the Brethren by I'epeating this stanza : — The headstrong man, who, when exhorted, pays No heed to friends who kindly counsel give, — Like 'Bamboo's father,' shall be brought to nought. Thus did the Bodhisatta exhort his followers ; and he developed within himself the four Noble States, and at his death was re-born into the Brahma Realm. Said the Master, "Brother, this is not the first time you have shewn yourself headstrong ; you were no less headstrong in times gone by, and thereby met your death from a viper's bite." Having ended his lesson, the Master shewed the connexion and identified the Birth by saying, "In these days, this.headstrong Brother was 'Bamboo's Father,' my disciples were the baud of disciples, and I myself their teacher." 116 The Jdtaka. Booh I.

'■^Sense-lacking friends.''' — This story was told by the Master whilst on an alms-pilgrimage in Magadha, about some stupid villagers in a certain hamlet. Tradition says that, after travelling from Savatthi to the kingdom of Magadha, he was on his round in that kingdom when he arrived at a certain hamlet, which was thronged with fools. In this hamlet these fools met together one day, and debated together, saying, "Friends, when we are at work in the jungle, the mosquitos devour us; and that hinders our work. Let us, arming ourselves with hows and weapons, go to war with the mosquitos and shoot or hew them all to death." So oft' to the jungle they went, and shouting, "Shoot down the mosquitos," shot and struck one another, till they were in a sad state and returned only to sink on the ground in or within the village or at its entrance. Surrounded by the Order of the Bi'cthren, the Master came in quest of alms to that village. The sensible minority among the inhabitants no sooner saw the Blessed One, than they erected a pavilion at the entrance to their village and, after bestowing large alms on the [247] Brotherhood with the Buddha at its head, bowed to the Master and seated themselves. Observing wounded men lying around on this side and on that, the Master asked those lay-brothers, saying, "There are numbers of disabled men about ; what has happened to them?" "Sir," was the reply, "they went forth to war with the mosquitos, but only shot one another and so disabled themselves." Said the Master, "This is not the first time that these foolish people have dealt out blows to themselves instead of to the mosquitos they meant to kill ; in former times, also, there were those who, meaning to hit a mosquito, hit a fellow-creature instead." And so saying, at those villagers' request he told this story of the past.

Once on a time when Brahmadatta was reigning in Benares, the Bodhisatta gained his liveliliood as a trader. In those days in a bordervillage in Kasi there dwelt a number of carpenters. And it chanced that one of them, a bald grey-haired man, was planing away at some wood, with his head glistening like a copper bowl, when a mosquito settled on his scalp and stung him with its dart-like sting. Said the carpenter to his son, who was seated hard by, — "My boy, there's a mosquito stinging me on the head; do drive it away." "Hold still then, father," said the son; "one blow will settle it." (At that very time the Bodhisatta had reached that village in the way of trade, and was sitting in the carpenter's shop.) "Rid me of it," cried the father. "All right, father," answered the son, who was behind the old man's back, and, raising a sharp axe on high with intent to kill only the mosquito, he cleft — his father's head in twain. So the old man fell dead on the spot. Thought the Bodhisatta, who had been an eye-witness of the whole scene, — "Better than such a friend is an enemy with sense, whom fear

of men's vengeance will deter from killing a man." And he recited these lines : — Sense-lacking friends are worse than foes with sense; Witness the son that sought the gnat to slay, But cleft, poor fool, his father's skull in twain. [248] So saying, the Bodhisatta rose up and departed, passing away in after days to fare according to his deserts. And as for the carpenter, his body was burned by his kinsfolk. "Thus, lay brethren," said the Master, "in bygone times also there were those who, seeking to hit a mosquito, struck down a fellow-creature." This lesson ended, he shewed the connexion and identified the Birth by saying, " In those days I was myself the wise and good trader who departed after repeating the stanza."

'■'■ Se7ise-lacking friends." — This story was told by the Master while at Jetavana, about a maid-servant of the Lord High Treasurer, Aniltha-pindika. For he is said to have had a maid-servant named Rohini, whose aged mother came to where the girl was pounding rice, and lay down. The flies came round the old woman and stung her as with a needle, so she ci-ied to her daughter, " The flies are stinging me, my dear; do drive them away," "Oh! I'll drive them away, mother," said the girl, lifting her pestle to the flies which had settled on her mother. Then, crying, "I'll kill them I", she smote her mother such a blow as to kill the old woman outright. Seeing what she had done the girl began to weep and cry, "Oh ! mother, mother ! " The news was brought to the Lord High Treasurer, who, after having the body burnt, went his way to the Monastery, and told the Master what had happened. "This is not the first time, layman," said the Mastei-, "that in Rohini's anxiety to kill the flies on her mother, she has struck her mother dead with a pestle; she did precisely the same in times past." Then at Anathapindika's request, he told this story of the past.

Once upon a time when Brahmadatta was reigning in Benares, the Bodhisatta was born the son of the Lord High Treasurer, and came to be Lord High Treasurer himself at his father's death. And he, too, had a maid-servant whose name was Rohini. And her mother, in like manner, went to where the daughter was pounding I'ice, and lay down, and called 118 The Jataka. Book I, out, 'Du drive these tlies oft' me, my dear,' and in just the same wayshe struck her mother with a pestle, and killed her, and began to weep. Hearing of what had happened, [249] the Bodhisatta reflected: 'Here, in this world, even an enemy, with sense, would be preferable,' and recited these lines : — Sense-lacking friends are worse than foes with sense, Witness the girl whose reckless hand laid low Her mother, whom she now laments in vain. In these lines in praise of the wise, did the Bodhisatta preach the Truth. "This is not the first time, layman," said the Master, "that in Rohinl's anxiety to kill flies she has killed her own mother instead." This lesson ended, he shewed the connexion and identified the Birth by saying: — "The mother and daughter of to-day were also mother and daughter of those b}'gone times, and I myself the Lord High Treasm-er."

'•'■'' Tis knoicledger — This story was told l)y the Master in a certain hamlet i)f Kosala about one who spoiled a pleasaunce. Tradition says that, in the course of an alms-journey among the [)eople of Kosala, the Master came to a certain hamlet. A squire of the place invited the Buddha to take the mid-day meal at his house, and had his guest seated in the pleasaunce, where he shewed hospitality to the Brotherhood with the Buddha at its head, aud courteously gave them leave to stroll at will about his grounds. So the Brethren rose up and walked about the grounds with the gardener. Observing in their walk a bare space, they said to the gardener, "Lay-disciple, elsewhere in the pleasaunce there is abundant shade ; but here there's neither tree nor shrub. How comes this? " " Sirs," replied the man, •' when these grounds were being laid out, a village lad, who was doing the watering, pulled up all the young trees hereabouts and then gave them much or little [250] water according to the size of their roots. So the young trees withered and died off; and that is why this space is bare." Drawing near to the Master, the Brethren told him this. "Yes, Brethren," said he, "this is not the first time that village lad has spoiled a pleasaunce; he did precisely the same in bygone times also." And so saying, he told this story of the past.

Once on a time when Brahmadatta was king of Benares, a festival was proclaimed in the city; and at the first summoning notes of the festal drum out poured the townsfolk to keep holiday. Now in those clays, a tribe of inoiikeys was living in the king's pleasauuce; and the king's gardener thought to himself, "They 're holidaymaking up in the city. I'll get the monkeys to do the watering for me, and be off to enjoy myself with the rest." So saying, he went to the king of the monkeys, and, first dwelling on the benefits his majesty and his subjects enjoyed from residence in the pleasaunce in the way of flowers and fruit and young shoots to eat, ended by saying, "To-day there's holiday-making up in the city, and I'm ofl' to enjoy myself. Couldn't you water the young trees while I'm away?" "Oh! yes," said the monkey. "Only mind you do," said the gardener; and off he went, giving the monkeys the water-skins and wooden watering-pots to do the work with. Then the monkeys took the watei'-skins and watering-pots, and fell to watering the young trees. "But we must mind not to waste the water," observed their king; "as you water, first pull each young tree up and look at the size of its roots. Then give plenty of water to those whose I'oots strike deej), but only a little to those with tiny roots. When this water is all gone, we shall be hard put to it to get more."

" To be sure," said the other monkeys, and did as he bade them. At this junctuie a certain wise man, seeing the monkeys thus engaged, asked them why they pulled up tree after tree and watered them according to the size of their roots. "Because such are our king's commands," answered the monkeys. Their reply moved the wise man to reflect how, with every desire to do good, the ignorant and foolish only succeed in doing harm. And he recited this stanza: [251] 'Tis knowledge crowns endeavoiu- with success. For fools are thwarted by their foolishness, — Witness the ape that killed the garden trees. With this rebuke to the king of the monkeys, the wise man departed with his followers from the pleasaunce. Said the Master, "This is not the first time, Brethren, that this village lad has spoiled pleasaunces; he was just the same in bygone times also." His lesson ended, he shewed the connexion and identified the Birth by saying, "The village lad who spoiled this pleasaunce was the king of the monkeys in those days, and I was myself the wise and good man." [JVote. Cf. Nos. 268 and 271 ; and see the scene sculptured in the Stupa of Bharhut, Plate xlv, 5, as represented in the frontispiece of this volume.]

120 The Jdtaka. Booh I.

'"TYs knowledge." — This story was told by the Master while at Jetavana about one who spoiled spirits. Tradition says that Anatha-pindika had a friend who kept a tavern. This friend got ready a supply of strong spirits which he sold for gold and for silver i, and his tavern was crowded. He gave orders to his aj^prentice to sell for cash only, and went oft' himself to bathe. This apprentice, while serving out the grog to his customers, observed them sending out for salt and jagghery and eating it as a whet. Thought he to himself, "There can't be any salt in our liquor; I'll put some in." So he put a pound of salt in a bowl of grog, and served it out to the customers. And they no sooner took a mouthful, than they spat it out again, saying, " What have you been up to ?" " I saw you sending for salt after drinking our liquor, so I mixed some salt in." "And that's how you've spoilt good liquor, you boobj^," cried the customers, and with abuse they got up one after anotlier and flung out of the tavern. When the keeper of the tavern came home, and did not see [252] a single customer about, he asked where they had all got to. So the ap})rentice told him what had happened. Rating him for his folly, the man went oft" and told Anatha-pindika. And the latter, thinking the story a good one to tell, repaired to Jetavana, where after due obeisance he told the Master all about it.

"This is not the first time, layman," said the Master, "that this apprentice has spoiled spirits. He did just the same once before." Then at Anathapindika's request, he told this story of the past. Once on a time when Brahmadatta was reigning in Benares, the Bodhisatta was the Treasurer of Benares, and had a tavern-keeper who lived under his ])rotection. This man having got I'eady a supply of strong spirits, which he left his apprentice^ to sell while he himself went off to bathe, during his absence his apprentice mixed salt with the liquor, and spoiled it just in the same way. When on his return the young man's guide and master- came to know what had been done, he told the story to the Treasurer. ' Truly,' said the latter, ' the ignorant and foolish, with every desire to do good, only succeed in doing harm.' And he recited this stanza : 'Tis knowledge crowns endeavour with success; For fools are thwarted by their foolishness, — Witness Kondanna's salted bowl of grog. In these lines the Bodhisatta taught the truth. ^ Apparently regarded as a ' Jewish ' proceeding, as opposed to normal barter. - With a dry humour, the Pali applies to the publican and his apprentice the terms normally appUed to a religious teacher and his pupil.

Said the Master, "Layman, this same person spoiled spirits in the past as now." Then he shewed the connexion and identified the Birth by saying, " He who spoiled the spirits now was also the spoiler of the spirits in those bygone days, and I myself was then the Treasurer of Benares."

^^ Misguided effort." — This story was told by the Master while at Jetavana about a self-willed Brother. Said the Master to that Brother, " This is not the first time, Brother, that you have been self-willed ; you were of just the same disposition in bygone tunes also [253] ; and therefore it was that, as you would not follow the advice of the wise and good, you came to be cut in two by a sharp sword and were flung on the highway; and you were the sole cause why a thousand men met their end." And so saying, he told this story of the past. Once on a time when Brahmadatta was reigning in Benares, there was a brahmin in a village who knew the charm called Vedabbha. Now this charm, so they say, was precious beyond all price. For, if at a certain conjunction of the planets the charm was repeated and the gaze bent u[)wards to the skies, straightway from the heavens there rained the Seven Things of Price, — gold, silver, pearl, coral, catseye, ruby, and diamond. In those days the Bodhisatta was a pupil of this brahmin ; and one day his master left the village on some business or other, and came with the Bodhisatta to the country of Ceti.

In a forest by the way dwelt five hundred robbers — known as "the Despatchers" — who made the way impassable. And these caught the Bodhisatta and the Vedabbha-brahmin. (Why, you ask, were they called the Despatchersl — Well, the story goes that of eveiy two prisoners they made they used to des2:>atch one to fetch the ransom ; and that's why they were called the Despatchers. If they captured a father and a son, they told the father to go for the ransom to free his son ; if they caught a mother and her daughter, they sent the mother for the money; if they caught two brothers, they let the elder go ; and so too, if they caught a teacher and his pupil, it was the pupil they set free. In this case, therefore, they kept the Vedabbha-brahmin, and sent tlie Bodhisatta for 122 The Jataka. Book I. the ransom.) And the Bodhisatta said with a bow to his master, "In a day or two I shall surely come back; have no fear; only fail not to do as I shall say. To-day will come to pass the conjunction of the planets which brings about the rain of the Things of Price. Take heed lest, yielding to this mishap, you repeat the charm and call down the precious shower. For, if you do, calamity will certainly befall both you and this band of robbers." With this warning to his master, the Bodhisatta went his way in quest of the ransom.

At sunset the robbers bound the brahmin and laid him by the heels. Just at this moment the full moon rose over the eastern horizon, and the brahmin, studying the heavens, knew [254] that the great conjunction was taking place. '"Why," thought he, "should I suffer this misery? By repeating the charm I will call down the precious rain, pay the robbers the ransom, and go free." So he called out to the robbers, "Friends, why do you take nie a prisoner 1" "To get a ransom, reverend sir," said they. "Well, if that is all yon want," said the brahmin, "make haste and untie me; have my head bathed, and new clothes put on me; and let me be perfumed and decked with flowers. Then leave me to myself." The robbers did as he bade them. And the bi-ahmin, marking the conjunction of the planets, repeated his charm with eyes uplifted to the heavens. Forthwith the Things of Price poured down from the skies ! The robbers picked them all up, wrapping their booty into bundles with their cloaks. Then with their brethren they marched away; and the brahmin followed in the rear. But, as luck would have it, the party was cajitured by a second band of five hundred robbers! "Why do you seize us?" said the first to the second band. "For booty," was the answer. "If booty is what you want, seize on that brahmin, who by simply gazing up at the skies brought down riches as rain. It was he who gave us all that we have got." So the second band of robbers let the first band go, and seized on the brahmin, crying, "Give us riches too!" "It would give me great pleasure," said the brahmin; "but it will be a year before the requisite conjunction of the planets takes place again. If you will only be so good as to wait till then, I will invoke the precious shower for you."

"Rascally brahmin!" cried the angry robbers, "you made the other band rich off-hand, but want us to wait a whole year ! " And they cut him in two with a sharp sword, and flung his body in the middle of the road. Then hurrying after the first band of robbers, they killed every man of them too in hand-to-hand fight, and seized the booty. Next, they divided into two companies and fought among themselves, company against company, till two hundred and fifty men were slain. And so they went on killing one another, till only two were left alive. Thus dul those thousand men come to destruction. Now, when the two survivors had managed to carry off the treasure they hid it in the jungle near a village; and one of them sat there, sword in hand, [255] to guard it, whilst the other went into the village to get rice and have it cooked for supper. " Covetousness is the root of ruin I " mused he* that stopped by the treasure. " When my mate comes back, he'll want half of this. Suppose I kill him the moment he gets back." So he drew his sword and sat waiting for his comrade's return.

Meanwhile, the other had equally reflected that the booty had to be halved, and thought to himself, "Suppose I poison the rice, and give it him to eat and so kill him, and have the whole of the treasure to myself." Accordingly, when the rice was boiled, he first ate his own share, and then put poison in the rest, which he carried back with him to the jungle. But scarce had he set it down, when the other robber cut him in two with his sword, and hid the body away in a secluded spot. Then he ate the poisoned rice, and died then and there. Thus, by reason of the treasure, not only the brahmin but all the robbers came to destruction. Howbeit, after a day or two the Bodhisatta came back with the ransom. Not finding his master where he had left him, but seeing treasure strewn all round about, his heart misgave him that, in spite of his advice, his master must have called down a shower of treasure from the skies, and that all must have perished in consequence ; and he proceeded along the road. On his way he came to where his master's body lay cloven in twain upon the way. " Alas ! " he cried, " he is dead through not heeding my wai'ning." Then with gathered sticks he made a pyre and burnt his master's body, making an offering of wild flowers.

Further along the road, he came upon the five hundred " Despatchei's," and further still upon the two hundred and fifty, and so on by degrees until at last he came to where lay only two corpses. Marking how of the thousand all but two had perished, and feeling sure that there must be two survivors, and that these could not refrain from strife, he pressed on to see where they had gone. So on he went till he found the path by which with the treasure they had turned into the jungle ; and there he found the heap of bundles of treasui-e, and one robber lying dead with his rice-bowl ovei'turned at his side. Realising the whole story at a glance, the Bodhisatta set himself to search for the missing man, and at last found his body in the .secret spot where it had been flung [256]. " And thus," mused the Bodhisatta, "through not following my counsel my master in his self-will has been the means of destroying not himself only but a thousand others also. Truly, they that

' Or perhaps a full stop should be inserted after eva ti, the words "Covetousness ...ruin" being treated as a maxim quoted parenthetically by the author. 124 The Jataka. Book I. seek their own gaiu by mistaken and misguided means shall leap ruin, even as my master." And he repeated this stanza : — Misguided effort leads to loss, not gain; Thieves killed Vedabbha and themselves were slain. Thus spake tlie Bodhisatta, and he went on to say, — " And even as my master's misguided and misplaced effort in causing the rain of treasure to fall from heaven wrought both his own death and the destruction of others with him, even so shall every other man who by mistaken means seeks to compass his own advantage, utterly perish and involve others in his destruction." With these words did the Bodhisatta make the forest ring ; and in this stanza did he preach the Truth, whilst the Tree-fairies shouted applause. The treasure he contrived to carry off to his own home, where he lived out his term of life in the exercise of almsgiving and other good works. And when his life closed, he departed to the heaven he had won.

Said the Master, "This is not the first time. Brother, you were self-willed ; you were self-willecl in bygone times as well ; and by your selfwill you came to utter destruction." His lesson ended, he identified the Birth by saying, "The selfwilled Brother was the Vedabbha- brahmin of those days, and I myself his pupil." \_Note. Dr Richard ]\Iorris was the first to trace in this Jataka an early form of Chaucer's Pardoner's Tale (see Contemporary Review for May, 1881) ; Mr H. T. Francis and Mr C. H. Tawney independently traced the same connection in the Academy^ Dec. 22, 1883 (subsequently reprinted in an enlarged form), and in the Cambridge Journal of Philology^ Vol. xii. 1883. See also Clouston's Popidar Tales and Fictions.]

[257] " The fool may watch." — This story was told by the Master while at Jetavana about a certain Naked-ascetic. Tradition says that a gentleman of the country near Savatthi asked in marriage for his son a young Savatthi lady of equal rank. Having fixed a day to come and fetch the bride, he subsequently consulted a Naked-ascetic who was intimate with his family, as to whether the stars were favourable for holding the festivities that day. "He didn't ask me in the first instance," thought the indignant ascetic, "but having already fixed the day, without consulting me, just makes an empty reference to me now. Very good ; I'll teach him a lesson." So he made answer that the stars were not favourable for that day ; that the nuptials ought not to be celebrated that day ; and that, if they were, great misfortune would come of it. And the country family in their faith in their ascetic did not go for the l)ride that day. Xow the bride's friends in the town had made all their preparations for celebrating the nuptials, and when they saw that the other side did not come, they said, "It was they who fixed to-day, and yet they have not come; and we have gone to great expense about it all. Who are these peoi)le, forsooth ? Let us marry the girl to someone else." So they found another bridegroom and gave the girl to him in marriage with all the festivities they had already prepared.

Next day the comitry party came to fetch the bride. But the Savatthi people rated them as follows: — "You country folk are a bad lot ; you fixed the day yourselves, and then insulted us by not coming. We have given the maiden to another." The country party started a quarrel, but in the end went home the way they came. Now the Brethren came to know how that Naked-ascetic had thwarted the festivity, and they began to talk the matter over in the Hall of Truth. Entering the Hall, and learning on enquiry the subject of their conversation, the Master said, "Brethren, this is not the first time that this same ascetic has thwarted the festivities of that family; out of pique with them, he did just the same thing once before." And so saying, he told this story of the past. Once on a time when Brahmadatta was reigning in Benares, some townsfolk had asked a countiy-girl in marriage and had named tlie day. Having already made the arrangement, they asked their family ascetic whether the stars were j^ropitious for the ceremony on that day. Piqued at their having fixed the day to suit themselves without first taking counsel with hiin, the ascetic made up his mind to thwart their marriage festivities for that day; [258] and accordingly he made answer that the stars were not favourable for that day, and that, if they persisted, grave misfortune would be the result. So, in their faith in the ascetic, they stayed at home ! Wheu the country folk found that the town party did not come, they said among themselves, "It was they who fixed the marriage for to-day, and now they have not come. Who are they, forsooth 1 " And they married the girl to someone else.