Vedehikā said this to Servant Blackie: “See here, Blackie!” “What is
it, my lady?” “Why did you get up so late?” “For no reason at all, my
lady.” “For no reason at all, worthless servant, you got up so late!”
And in anger and displeasure Mistress Vedehikā seized the pin of the
door-bolt and gave her a blow on the head, breaking her head.
Thereupon Servant Blackie, with broken head streaming with blood,
complained to the neighbors: “See, my lady, the work of the gentle
woman! See, my lady, the work of the meek woman! See, my lady, the work
of the tranquil woman! For this is the way a lady acts who keeps but a
single servant: ‘You got up too late!’ says she. So what must she do
but seize the pin of the door-bolt and give you a blow on the head and
break your head!”
The result was that after a time Mistress Vedehikā acquired the
following evil reputation: “Cruel is Mistress Vedehikā, no meek woman
is Mistress Vedehikā, no tranquil woman is Mistress Vedehikā!”
“Precisely so, monks, here in this world, many a monk is ever so
gentle, ever so meek, ever so tranquil, so long as unpleasant remarks
do not reach him. But when, monks, unpleasant remarks reach a monk,
that is the time to find out whether he is really gentle, really
meek, really tranquil.”
_13. Blind Men and Elephant._
_Avoid vain wrangling._
Udāna vi. 4: 66-69.
Thus have I heard: Once upon a time the Exalted One was in residence
at Jetavana, near Sāvatthi. Now at that time there entered Sāvatthi
for alms a company of heretics, both monks and Brahmans, wandering
ascetics, holding heretical views, patient of heresy, delighting in
heresy, relying upon the reliance of heretical views. There were some
monks and Brahmans who held this doctrine, who held this view: “The
world is eternal. This view alone is truth; any other is folly.” But
there were other monks and Brahmans who held this view: “The world is
not eternal. This view alone is truth; any other is folly.” Some held
that the world is finite, others that the world is infinite. Some
held that the soul and the body are identical, others that the soul
and the body are distinct.
They quarreled and brawled and wrangled and struck one another with
the daggers of their tongues, saying: “This is right, that is not
right;” “This is not right, that is right.”
Now in the morning a company of monks put on their under-garments,
took bowl and robe, and entered Sāvatthi for alms. And when they had
made their alms-pilgrimage in Sāvatthi, they returned from their
pilgrimage. And when they had eaten their breakfast, they approached
the Exalted One. And having approached, they saluted the Exalted
One and sat down on one side. And sitting on one side, those monks
reported the matter to the Exalted One.
“The heretics, O monks, the wandering ascetics, are blind, without
eyes; know not good, know not evil; know not right, know not wrong.
Knowing not good, knowing not evil, knowing not right, knowing not
wrong, they quarrel and brawl and wrangle and strike one another with
the daggers of their tongues, saying: ‘This is right, that is not
right;’ ‘This is not right, that is right.’”
In olden times, in this very city of Sāvatthi, there was a certain
king. And that king ordered a certain man: “Come, my man, assemble in
one place all the men in Sāvatthi who are blind from birth.” “Yes, your
majesty,” said that man to that king. And when, in obedience to the
king’s command, he had laid hands on all the men in Sāvatthi who were
blind from birth, he approached that king. And having approached, he
said this to that king: “Your majesty, the blind from birth in Sāvatthi
are assembled for you.” “Very well! Now let the blind men feel of
the elephant.” “Yes, your majesty,” said that man to that king. And
in obedience to the king’s command he let the blind men feel of the
elephant, saying: “This, O blind men, is what an elephant is like.”
Some of the blind men he let feel of the elephant’s head, saying:
“This, O blind men, is what an elephant is like.” Some of the blind
men he let feel of the elephant’s ears, saying: “This, O blind men, is
what an elephant is like.” Some of the blind men he let feel of the
elephant’s tusks, saying: “This, O blind men, is what an elephant is
like.” Others he let feel of the trunk, saying the same. Others he
let feel of the belly, others of the legs, others of the back, others
of the tail, saying to each and to all: “This, O blind men, is what an
elephant is like.”
Now when that man had let the blind men feel of the elephant, he
approached that king. And having approached, he said this to that king:
“Your majesty, those blind men have felt of the elephant; do as you
think fit.”
Then that king approached those blind men. And having approached,
he said this to those blind men: “Blind men, have you felt of the
elephant?” “Yes, your majesty, we have felt of the elephant.” “Tell me,
blind men, what is an elephant like?”
The blind men who had felt of the elephant’s head, said: “Your
majesty, an elephant is like a water-pot.” The blind men who had felt
of the elephant’s ears, said: “Your majesty, an elephant is like a
winnowing-basket.” The blind men who had felt of the elephant’s tusks,
said: “Your majesty, an elephant is like a plow-share.” Those who had
felt of the trunk, said: “An elephant is like a plow-pole.” Those who
had felt of the belly, said: “An elephant is like a granary.” Those
who had felt of the legs, said: “An elephant is like pillars.” Those
who had felt of the back, said: “An elephant is like a mortar.” The
blind men who had felt of the elephant’s tail, said: “Your majesty, an
elephant is like a fan.”
And they fought among themselves with their fists, saying: “This is
what an elephant is like, that is not what an elephant is like;” “This
is not what an elephant is like, that is what an elephant is like.” And
thereat that king was delighted.
“Precisely so, O monks, the heretics, the wandering ascetics, are
blind, without eyes; know not good, know not evil; know not right,
know not wrong. Knowing not good, knowing not evil, knowing not
right, knowing not wrong, they quarrel and brawl and wrangle and
strike one another with the daggers of their tongues, saying: ‘This
is right, that is not right;’ ‘This is not right, that is right.’”
_14. King and Boar._
_Evil communications corrupt good manners._
Jātaka 186: ii. 101-106.
On a certain occasion the Teacher addressed the monks as follows:
“Monks, contact with the corrupt is a bad thing, an injurious thing.
Indeed, why should it be necessary to discuss the injurious effect on
human beings of contact with the corrupt, when in times past even a
senseless mango tree, with flavor as sweet as the flavor of celestial
fruit, through contact with sour, unpalatable nimbs, turned sour and
bitter?”
_Part. 1. Gem, hatchet, drum, and bowl._
In times past, when Brahmadatta ruled at Benāres, four Brahman brothers
in the kingdom of Kāsi adopted the life of ascetics, and building a
row of leaf-huts in the Himālaya region, took up their abode there.
The eldest of the four brothers died and was reborn as Sakka, king of
gods. Knowing who he had been, he went from time to time, every seven
or eight days, and ministered to his former brothers.
One day he saluted the eldest ascetic, sat down on one side, and asked:
“Reverend Sir, is there anything you need?” The ascetic, who was
suffering from jaundice, said: “I need fire.” Sakka gave him a little
hatchet. Said the ascetic: “Who will take this and fetch me wood?”
Then Sakka said to him: “When, Reverend Sir, you need wood, just rub
this hatchet with your hand and say: ‘Please fetch me wood and make me
a fire.’ And the hatchet will fetch wood, make a fire, and turn it over
to you.”
Having given him the little hatchet, Sakka went to the second ascetic
and asked: “Reverend Sir, what do you need?” Past his leaf-hut ran
an elephant-track. Since the elephants bothered him, he said: “The
elephants annoy me; drive them away.” Sakka presented a drum to him,
saying, “Reverend Sir, if you beat this side, your enemies will flee;
if you beat that, they will become kindly disposed and will surround
you with a fourfold army.”
Having given him the drum, Sakka went to the youngest ascetic and
asked: “Reverend Sir, what do you want?” He also was afflicted with
jaundice; therefore he said: “I want curds.” Sakka gave him a bowl of
curds, saying: “If you invert this and make a wish, the curds will turn
into a mighty river, will set flowing a mighty flood, and will even be
able to get and give you a kingdom.” So saying, he went his way.
From that time on the little hatchet made fire for the eldest brother;
when the second brother beat the drum, the elephants fled; the youngest
brother enjoyed his curds.
At that time a boar, rooting among the ruins of a village, caught
sight of a gem endowed with magical power. He bit the gem, and by its
magical power rose into the air. Seeing a little island in mid-ocean,
he thought: “There now is the place for me to live.” So he descended
and made his home in a pleasant place under a fig tree.
One day the boar lay down at the foot of that tree, placed the gem in
front of him, and fell asleep.
Now a certain man who lived in the kingdom of Kāsi, driven from home by
his mother and father with the remark, “He’s no good to us,” went to a
certain seaport, hired himself out to mariners, and embarked on a ship.
In mid-ocean the ship sprang a leak, and he floated to that island on
a plank. While seeking wild fruits he saw that boar. Creeping up, he
seized the gem. By its magical power he rose into the air. Seating
himself on the fig tree, he thought: “This boar, become an air-voyager
by the magical power of this gem, lives here, I suppose. But I must
not go back without first of all killing him and eating his flesh.” He
broke off a twig and let it fall on the boar’s head. The boar woke up,
but not seeing the gem, ran this way and that, all of a tremble. The
man sitting in the tree laughed. The boar looked, and seeing him, ran
his head against the tree, and died then and there. The man came down,
made a fire, and cooked the boar’s flesh and ate it. Then he rose into
the air and passed over the tops of the Himālayas.
Seeing a region of hermitages, he descended at the hermitage of the
eldest ascetic. He lived there for two or three days, performed the
major and minor duties for the ascetic, and saw the magical power of
the little hatchet. “This I must get,” thought he. Accordingly, after
demonstrating to the ascetic the magical power of the gem, he said:
“Reverend Sir, take this gem and give me the little hatchet.” The
ascetic, having a desire to travel through the air, took the gem and
gave him the little hatchet.
[Illustration: _He bit the gem, and by its magical power rose into the
air._]
The man took the little hatchet and went a short distance. Then he
rubbed the little hatchet and said: “Little hatchet, chop off the
ascetic’s head and bring me the gem.” The little hatchet went and
chopped off the ascetic’s head and brought him the gem. The man put
the little hatchet in a secret place, and then went to the second
ascetic and lived with him for a few days. Seeing the magical power
of the drum, he gave the second ascetic the gem, took the drum, and
in the same way as before caused his head also to be cut off. Then he
approached the youngest ascetic. Seeing the magical power of the bowl
of curds, he gave the youngest ascetic the gem, took the bowl of
curds, and in the same way as before caused his head to be cut off.
Then he took the gem and the little hatchet and the drum and the bowl
of curds, and rose into the air. Halting not far from Benāres, he sent,
by the hand of a certain man, the following message to the king of
Benāres: “Give me battle or the kingdom!” As soon as the king heard the
message, he said: “Let’s catch the bandit;” and sallied forth. The man
beat the proper side of the drum, and a fourfold army surrounded him.
Perceiving that the king had deployed his forces, he turned the bowl of
curds loose. A mighty river began to flow, and the multitude sank down
in the curds and were unable to extricate themselves. Then he rubbed
the little hatchet and said: “Bring me the king’s head.” The little
hatchet went and brought the king’s head and laid it at his feet. Not a
single soldier had the power to lift a weapon. Accompanied by a mighty
force, the man entered the city and caused himself to be sprinkled
king. Having become king under the name King of the Curds, he ruled
with righteousness.
_Part 2. Corrupt fruit from a good tree._
One day, while he was amusing himself in the mighty river, in an
enclosure formed by a net, there floated up and lodged in the net a
single mango fruit fit for the gods. When they lifted the net they
saw it and gave it to the king. It was of large size, as big as a
water-pot, perfectly round, and of a golden color. The king asked his
foresters: “What is that the fruit of?” “The fruit of a mango tree.”
Having eaten it, he caused the stone to be planted in his own garden,
and to be sprinkled with milk and water. The tree sprouted, and in the
third year bore fruit.
Great was the honor rendered to the mango. They sprinkled it with milk
and water, they made marks of the spread hand with scented ointment on
it, they festooned it with wreaths and ropes of flowers, they burned
lamps with perfumed oil before it, and round about it they hung a
curtain of fine cloth.
The fruit was sweet and of a golden color. When the king sent the fruit
of the mango to other kings, he pierced with a thorn the spot where
the sprout starts, for fear a tree might sprout from the stone. When,
after eating the mango fruit, they planted the stone, nothing happened.
“What, pray, can be the cause of this?” they inquired, and discovered
the cause.
Now a certain other king summoned his gardener and asked: “Can you
spoil the flavor of my rival’s mango fruit and make it bitter?” “Yes,
your majesty.” “Very well, go.” So saying, he gave him a thousand
pieces of money and sent him off. The gardener went to Benāres, caused
the king to be informed that a gardener had arrived, managed to have
himself summoned by the king, and entering the palace, made obeisance
to the king. “Are you the gardener?” asked the king. “Yes, your
majesty,” said the gardener, and described his own marvelous powers.
Said the king: “Go, assist our gardener.”
From that time on the two men cared for the garden. The newly arrived
gardener caused flowers to blossom out of season and fruits to grow out
of season, and made the garden a charming place. The king, pleased with
the new gardener, dismissed the old gardener, and gave the new gardener
exclusive charge of the garden. The new gardener, realizing that the
garden was in his own hands, planted nimbs and pot-herbs and creepers
all around the mango tree.
In the course of time the nimbs grew up. Roots with roots, branches
with branches, were in contact, entangled, intertwined. Merely through
this contact with the sour, unpalatable nimbs, the sweet fruit of the
mango turned bitter, and its flavor became like the flavor of the
leaves of the nimbs. The gardener, knowing that the fruit of the mango
had turned bitter, fled.
The king went to the garden and ate a mango fruit. As soon as he put
the mango into his mouth, perceiving that the juice tasted like the
vile juice of the nimb, he was unable to swallow it, and coughing it
up, spat it out. Now at that time the Future Buddha was his counsellor
in temporal and spiritual matters. The king addressed the Future
Buddha: “Wise man, this tree is just as well cared for now as it was of
old. But in spite of this, its fruit has turned bitter. What, pray, is
the reason?” And by way of inquiry he uttered the first stanza:
Color, fragrance, flavor, had this mango before.
Receiving the same honor, why has the mango bitter fruit?
Then the Future Buddha told him the reason by uttering the second
stanza:
Your mango, O king, is surrounded with nimbs,
Root touches root, branches entwine about branches.
Through contact with the bad, therefore your mango has bitter fruit.
The king, hearing his words, had every one of the nimbs and pot-herbs
chopped down, the roots pulled up, the sour earth round about removed,
sweet earth put in its place, and the mango fed with milk and water,
sweetened water, and perfumed water. Through contact with sweet juices
the mango became perfectly sweet again. The king gave the regular
gardener sole charge of the garden, and after living out his allotted
term of life, passed away according to his deeds.
15. _A Buddhist Henny-Penny._
_Much ado about nothing._
Jātaka 322: iii. 74-78.
On a certain occasion the Teacher, referring to the
self-mortification of the Hindu ascetics, said to the monks: “Monks,
there is no value, no merit, in their self-mortification. It is like
the ‘rat-a-tat’ the little hare heard.” Said the monks: “We do not
understand what you mean by saying that it is like the ‘rat-a-tat’
the little hare heard. Tell us about it, Reverend Sir.” So in
response to their request the Teacher related the following Story of
the Past:
In times past, when Brahmadatta ruled at Benāres, the Future Buddha was
reborn as a lion, and when he grew up, lived in a forest. At that time,
near the Western Ocean, grew a grove of cocoanut trees intermingled
with Vilva trees. There, at the foot of a Vilva tree, under a cocoanut
sapling, lived a little hare. One day, returning with food, he lay down
under a cocoanut leaf and thought: “If this earth should collapse, what
would ever become of me?”
At that very instant a Vilva fruit fell on top of the cocoanut leaf.
At the sound of it the little hare thought: “This earth is certainly
collapsing!” And springing to his feet, back he ran, without so much
as taking a look. As he was running away as fast as he could in fear
of death, another little hare saw him and asked: “Why, pray, are you
running away in such a fright?” “Oh, don’t ask me!” And he kept right
on running, in spite of the fact that the other little hare kept
asking: “Oh! what is it? Oh! what is it?” The other little hare turned
around, and without so much as taking a look, said: “The earth is
collapsing here!” He also ran away, following the first.
In the same way a third little hare saw the second, and a fourth the
third, until finally there were a hundred thousand little hares running
away together. A deer saw them,--also a boar, an elk, a buffalo, an ox,
a rhinoceros, a tiger, a lion, and an elephant. Seeing, each asked:
“What’s this?” “The earth is collapsing here!” Each ran away. Thus, in
the course of time, there was an army of animals a league in size.
At that time the Future Buddha, seeing that army running away, asked:
“What’s this?” “The earth is collapsing here!” When the Future Buddha
heard this, he thought: “No such thing! The earth is collapsing
nowhere! It must certainly be that they failed to understand something
they heard. But if I do not put forth effort, they will all perish. I
will grant them their lives.”
With the speed of a lion he preceded them to the foot of a mountain
and thrice roared the roar of a lion. Terrified with fear of the lion,
they turned around and stood all huddled together. The lion made his
way in among them and asked: “Why are you running away?” “The earth is
collapsing!” “Who saw it collapsing?” “The elephants know.” He asked
the elephants. Said the elephants: “We don’t know; the lions know.”
Said the lions: “We don’t know; the tigers know.” The tigers: “The
rhinoceroses know.” The rhinoceroses: “The oxen know.” The oxen: “The
buffaloes.” The buffaloes: “The elks.” The elks: “The boars.” The
boars: “The deer.” The deer: “We don’t know; the little hares know.”
When the little hares were asked, they pointed out that little hare and
said: “He’s the one that told us.” So the lion asked the little hare:
“Friend, is it true, as you say, that the earth is collapsing?” “Yes,
master, I saw it.” “Where were you living when you saw it?” asked the
lion. “Near the Western Ocean, in a grove of cocoanut trees mingled
with Vilva trees. For there, at the foot of a Vilva tree, under a
cocoanut sapling, beneath a cocoanut leaf, I lay and thought: ‘If the
earth collapses, where shall I go?’ That very instant I heard the sound
of the earth collapsing. So I ran away.”
The lion thought: “Evidently a Vilva fruit fell on top of that
cocoanut leaf and made a ‘rat-a-tat,’ and this hare here, hearing
that sound, came to the conclusion: ‘The earth is collapsing!’ I will
find out for a fact.” So the lion, taking the little hare with him,
reassured the throng, saying: “I am going to find out for a fact
whether or not the earth collapsed at the spot where the little hare
saw what he saw; having so done, I will return. Until I return, all of
you remain right here.”
So taking the little hare on his back, he sprang forward with the speed
of a lion. And setting the little hare down in the cocoanut grove, he
said: “Come, show me the spot where you saw what you saw.” “I don’t
dare, master.” “Come, don’t be afraid.” The little hare, not daring to
approach the Vilva tree, stood no great distance off and said: “That,
master, is the spot where it went ‘rat-a-tat.’” So saying, he uttered
the first stanza:
“Rat-a-tat” it went,--I wish you luck,--
In the region where I dwell.
But as for me, I do not know
What made that “rat-a-tat.”
When the little hare said this, the lion went to the foot of the Vilva
tree, looked at the spot beneath the cocoanut leaf where the little
hare had lain, and observed that a Vilva fruit had fallen on top of
the cocoanut leaf. And knowing for a fact that the earth had not
collapsed, he took the little hare on his back, went quickly, with the
speed of a lion, to the assemblage of animals, informed them of all
the facts, reassured the throng of animals by saying, “Fear not,” and
released the little hare.
For if, at that time, the Future Buddha had not come to the rescue,
they would all have run down into the sea and perished. It was through
the Future Buddha that they obtained their lives.
Hearing a Vilva fruit fall,--“rat-a-tat,”--the hare ran.
Hearing the hare’s words, a host of animals were frightened.
Those who have not attained consciousness of their portion,
Those who follow the voice of others,
Those who are given to heedlessness,--the foolish,--
They attain what others attain.
But those who are endowed with morality,
Those who delight in the tranquillity of wisdom,
Those who abstain and refrain from worldly delights,--the wise,--
They attain what others attain not.
(These three stanzas were uttered by the Supremely Enlightened One.)
When the Teacher had related this parable, he identified the
personages in the Birth-story as follows: “At that time the lion was
I myself.”
[Illustration: _So taking the little hare on his back, he sprang
forward with the speed of a lion._]
_16. The Birds._
_Nobody loves a beggar._
Vinaya iii. 147-148.
On a certain occasion the Exalted One reproved the monks for begging.
Said he:
In olden times a certain monk dwelt on a slope of Himavat in a certain
forest-grove. Not far from that forest-grove was a great marsh, a
swamp. Now a large flock of birds sought food in that swamp in the
daytime, returning to that forest-grove at eventide to roost. Now that
monk, driven away by the noise of that flock of birds, approached me,
and having approached, saluted me and sat down on one side. And as he
sat on one side, I said this to that monk:
“I trust, monk, that you have suffered no discomfort. I trust that you
have received sufficient sustenance. I trust that you have made your
journey without fatigue. And, monk, whence have you come?”
“I have suffered no discomfort, Exalted One. I have received sufficient
sustenance. I have made my journey without fatigue. Reverend Sir, on
a slope of Himavat is a large forest-grove. And not far from that
forest-grove is a great marsh, a swamp. Now a large flock of birds seek
food in that swamp in the daytime, returning to that forest-grove at
eventide to roost. Thence, Reverend Sir, do I come, driven away by the
noise of that flock of birds.”
“But, monk, do you wish that flock of birds never to come back again?”
“I wish that flock of birds never to come back again.”
“Well then, monk, go there, plunge into that forest-grove, and
throughout the watches of the night cry out: ‘Let the pretty birds hear
me, as many as roost in this forest-grove! I want feathers! Let the
pretty birds each give me a feather!’”
So that monk went there, plunged into that forest-grove, and throughout
the watches of the night cried out: “Let the pretty birds hear me, as
many as roost in this forest-grove! I want feathers! Let the pretty
birds each give me a feather!”