receive the money. But the Bodhisatta said, “That is impossible,” and
all the same sent the brother five hundred.
THE DREAMER IN THE WOOD
Now the Buddha once upon a time lived alone in the woods, in the ecstasy
of meditation. For wild fruits he went no further afield. When fruit
grew upon the tree, he ate the fruit; in time of flowers, he ate
flowers. When the leaves grew, he ate leaves. When leaves were none, he
ate the bark of trees. Thus, in the highest contentment he lived a long
time in that place.
Now on a day, Sakka, the King of the gods, appeared before him and,
wishing to test him, said: “Behold yon man, all black of hue, my spirit
likes him not.”
Now by his divine insight the Buddha knew that Sakka spoke to him. And
he made answer and said:
“Though black of hue, I am a true Brahmin. A man is not black by reason
of his outer skin; only can sin make him black.” Thus he discoursed to
Sakka, and it was as he had made the moon to rise in the sky. And the
god asked him what boon he would crave.
And the Divine being asked to be free of three things: malice, hatred
and greed.
Then Sakka: “What is bad in these things?” And Buddha made answer,
“Because hatred grows from small to great and is ever full of
bitterness. Malice brings evil. First word, then touch, next fist, then
staff, and last the swordstroke flashing free. When men are urged by
greed, then arise fraud and deceit and swift pursuit of savage loot——”
“Then,” said Sakka, “choose another boon.”
Then said the Buddha, “Grant that in the woods where I live alone, no
disease may mar my peace, or break my ecstasy.”
Then said Sakka, “He chooseth no thing connected with food.” And he
granted yet another boon.
And the Buddha said, “Let no creature ever be harmed for me in body or
in mind.”
And Sakka made the tree bear fruit perennially, and saluting the Buddha
by touching his head with joined hands, he said:
“Dwell here for ever free from disease,” and returned to his throne.
THE RICE MEASURE
Long ago, Brahmadatta was king in Benares, in the land of Kāsi. At that
time our Bodisat was his valuer. He valued both horses, elephants, or
things of that kind; and jewelry, gold, or things of that kind; and
having done so, he used to have the proper price for the goods given to
the owners thereof.
Now the King was covetous. And in his avarice he thought, “If this
valuer estimates in this way, it will not be long before all the wealth
in my house will come to an end. I will appoint another valuer.”
And opening his window, and looking out into the palace yard, he saw a
stupid miserly peasant crossing the yard. Him he determined to make his
valuer; and sending for him, asked if he would undertake the office. The
man said he could; and the King, with the object of keeping his treasure
safer, established that fool in the post of valuer.
Thenceforward the dullard used to value the horses and elephants, paying
no regard to their real value, but deciding just as he chose; and since
he had been appointed to the office, as he decided, so the price was.
Now at that time a horse-dealer brought five hundred horses from the
northern prairies. The King sent for that fellow, and had the horses
valued. And he valued the five hundred horses at a mere measure of rice,
and straightway ordered the horse-dealer to be given the measure of
rice, and the horses to be lodged in the stable. Then the horse-dealer
went to the former valuer, and told him what had happened, and asked him
what he should do.
“Give a bribe to that fellow,” said he, “and ask him thus: 'We know now
that so many horses of ours are worth a measure of rice, but we want to
know from you what a measure of rice is worth. Can you value it for us,
standing in your place by the King?’ If he says he can, go with him into
the royal presence, and I will be there too.”
The horse-dealer accepted the Bodisat’s advice, went to the valuer, and
bribed him, and gave him the hint suggested. And he took the bribe, and
said, “All right! I can value your measure of rice for you.”
“Well, then, let us go to the audience-hall,” said he; and taking him
with him, went into the King’s presence. And the Bodisat and many other
ministers went there also.
The horse-dealer bowed down before the King, and said, “I acknowledge, O
King, that a measure of rice is the value of the five hundred horses;
but will the King be pleased to ask the valuer what the value of the
measure of rice may be?”
The King, not knowing what had happened, asked, “How now, valuer, _what_
are five hundred horses worth?”
“A measure of rice, O King!” said he.
“Very good, then! If five hundred horses are worth only a measure of
rice, what is that measure of rice worth?”
“The measure of rice is worth all Benares, both within and without the
walls,” replied that foolish fellow.
For the story goes that he first valued the horses at a measure of rice
just to please the King; and then, when he had taken the dealer’s bribe,
valued that measure of rice at the whole of Benares. Now at that time
the circumference of the rampart of Benares was twelve leagues, and the
land in its suburbs was three hundred leagues in extent. Yet the foolish
fellow estimated that so-great city of Benares, together with all its
suburbs, at a measure of rice!
Hearing this the ministers clapped their hands, laughing, and saying,
“We used to think the broad earth, and the King’s realm, were alike
beyond price; but this great and famous royal city is worth, by his
account, just a measure of rice! O the depth of the wisdom of the
valuer! How can he have stayed so long in office? Truly he is just
suited to our King!” Thus they laughed him to scorn.
Then the Bodisat uttered this stanza:
“What is a measure of rice worth?
All Benares and its environs!
And what are five hundred horses worth?
That same measure of rice!”
Then the king was ashamed, and drove out that fool, and appointed the
Bodisat to the office of valuer. And in course of time the Bodisat
passed away according to his deeds.
THE POISONOUS TREES
Once upon a time when Brahmadatta was reigning in Benares, the
Bodhisatta was born a merchant. When he grew up, and was trading with
five hundred wagons, he came one day to where the road led through a
great forest. Halting at the outskirts, he mustered the caravan and
addressed them thus:—“Poison-trees grow in this forest. Take heed that
you taste no unfamiliar leaf, flower, or fruit without first consulting
me.” All promised to take every care; and the journey into the forest
began. Now just within the forest-border stands a village, and just
outside that village grows a What-fruit tree. That What-fruit tree
exactly resembles a mango alike in trunk, branch, leaf, flower, and
fruit. And not only in outward semblance, but also in taste and smell,
the fruit—ripe and unripe—mimics the mango. If eaten, it is a deadly
poison, and causes instant death.
Now some greedy fellows, who went on ahead of the caravan, came to this
tree and, taking it to be a mango, ate of its fruit. But others said,
“Let us ask our leader before we eat”; and they accordingly halted by
the tree, fruit in hand, till he came up. Perceiving that it was no
mango, he said:—“This 'mango’ is a What-fruit tree; don’t touch its
fruit.”
Having stopped them from eating, the Bodhisatta turned his attention to
those who had already eaten. First he dosed them with an emetic, and
then he gave them the four sweet foods to eat; so that in the end they
recovered.
Now on former occasions caravans had halted beneath this same tree, and
had died from eating the poisonous fruit which they mistook for mangoes.
On the morrow the villagers would come, and seeing them lying there
dead, would fling them by the heels into a secret place, departing with
all the belongings of the caravan, wagons and all.
And on the day too of our story these villagers failed not to hurry at
daybreak to the tree for their expected spoils. “The oxen must be ours,”
said some. “And we’ll have the wagons,” said others;—whilst others again
claimed the wares as their share. But when they came breathless to the
tree, there was the whole caravan alive and well!
“How came you to know this was not a mango tree?” demanded the
disappointed villagers. “We didn’t know,” said they of the caravan; “it
was our leader who knew.”
So the villagers came to the Bodhisatta and said, “Man of wisdom, what
did you do to find out this tree was not a mango?”
“Two things told me,” replied the Bodhisatta, and he repeated this
stanza:—
“When near a village grows a tree
Not hard to climb, ’tis plain to me,
Nor need I further proof to know,
—No wholesome fruit thereon can grow!”
And having taught the Truth to the assembled multitude, he finished his
journey in safety.
THE WELL-TRAINED ELEPHANT
Once upon a time when King Magadha was ruling in Rajagaha in Magadha,
the Bodhisatta was born an elephant. He was white all over and graced
with all beauty. And because of his beauty the King made him his state
elephant.
One festal day the King adorned the city like a city of the devas and,
mounted on the elephant in all its trappings, made a solemn procession
round the city attended by a great retinue. And all along the route the
people were moved by the sight of that peerless elephant to exclaim,
“Oh, what a stately gait! what proportions! what beauty! what grace!
such a white elephant is worthy of an universal monarch.” All this
praise of his elephant awoke the King’s jealousy and he resolved to have
it cast over a precipice and killed. So he summoned the mahout and asked
whether he called that a trained elephant.
“Indeed he is well trained, Sire,” said the mahout. “No, he is very
badly trained.” “Sire, he is well trained.” “If he is so well trained,
can you get him to climb to the summit of Mount Vepulla?” “Yes, Sire.”
“Away with you, then,” said the King. And he got down from the elephant,
making the mahout mount instead, and went himself to the foot of the
mountain, whilst the mahout rode on the elephant’s back up to the top of
Mount Vepulla. The King with his courtiers also climbed the mountain,
and had the elephant halted at the brink of a precipice. “Now,” said he
to the man, “if he is so well trained as you say, make him stand on
three legs.”
And the mahout on the elephant’s back just touched the animal with his
goad by way of sign and called to him, “Hi! my beauty, stand on three
legs.” “Now make him stand on his two fore-legs,” said the King. And the
Great Being raised his hind-legs and stood on his fore-legs alone. “Now
on the hind-legs,” said the King, and the obedient elephant raised his
fore-legs till he stood on his hind-legs alone. “Now on one leg,” said
the King, and the elephant stood on one leg.
Seeing that the elephant did not fall over the precipice, the King
cried, “Now if you can, make him stand in the air.”
Then thought the mahout to himself, “All India cannot show the match of
this elephant for excellence of training. Surely the King must want to
make him tumble over the precipice and meet his death.” So he whispered
in the elephant’s ear, “My son, the King wants you to fall over and get
killed. He is not worthy of you. If you have power to journey through
the air, rise up with me upon your back and fly through the air to
Benares.”
And the Great Being, endowed as he was with the marvelous powers which
flow from Merit, straightway rose up into the air. Then said the mahout,
“Sire, this elephant, possessed as he is with the marvelous powers which
flow from Merit, is too good for such a worthless fool as you: none but
a wise and good King is worthy to be his master. When those who are so
worthless as you get an elephant like this, they don’t know his value,
and so they lose their elephant, and all the rest of their glory and
splendor.” So saying the mahout, seated on the elephant’s neck, recited
this stanza:—
“Exalted station breeds a fool great woe;
He proves his own and others’ mortal foe.”
“And now, good-by,” said he to the King as he ended this rebuke; and
rising in the air, he passed to Benares and halted in mid-air, over the
royal courtyard. And there was a great stir in the city and all cried
out, “Look at the state-elephant that has come through the air for our
King and is hovering over the royal courtyard.” And with all haste the
news was conveyed to the King, too, who came out and said, “If your
coming is for my behoof, alight on the earth.” And the Bodhisatta
descended from the air. Then the mahout got down and bowed before the
King, and in answer to the King’s enquiries told the whole story of
their leaving Rajagaha. “It was very good of you,” said the King, “to
come here”; and in his joy he had the city decorated and the elephant
installed in his state-stable. Then he divided his kingdom into three
portions, and made over one to the Bodhisatta, one to the mahout, and
one he kept himself. And his power grew from the day of the Bodisatta’s
coming till all India owned his sovereign sway. As Emperor of India, he
was charitable and did other good works till he passed away to fare
according to his deserts.
THE WISE PHYSICIAN
Kisāgotamī is the name of a young girl, whose marriage with the only son
of a wealthy man was brought about in true fairy-tale fashion. She had
one child, but when the beautiful boy could run alone, it died. The
young girl in her love for it carried the dead child clasped to her
bosom, and went from house to house of her pitying friends asking them
to give her medicine for it. But a Buddhist mendicant, thinking, “She
does not understand,” said to her: “My good girl, I myself have no such
medicine as you ask for, but I think I know of one who has.” “Oh, tell
me who that is!” said Kisāgotamī. “The Buddha can give you medicine: go
to him,” was the answer.
She went to Gautama, and doing homage to him, said: “Lord and Master, do
you know any medicine that will be good for my child?”
“Yes, I know of some,” said the Teacher.
Now it was the custom for patients or their friends to provide the herbs
which the doctors required, so she asked what herbs he would want. “I
want some mustard-seed,” he said; and when the poor girl eagerly
promised to bring some of so common a drug, he added: “You must get it
from some house where no son, or husband, or parent, or slave has died.”
“Very good,” she said, and went to ask for it, still carrying her dead
child with her. The people said: “Here is mustard-seed, take it.” But
when she asked, “In my friend’s house has any son died, or a husband, or
a parent, or slave?” they answered: “Lady! what is this that thou
sayest; the living are few, but the dead are many.” Then she went to
other houses, but one said: “I have lost a son”; another, “We have lost
our parents”; another, “I have lost my slave.”
At last, not being able to find a single house where no one had died,
her mind began to clear, and, summoning up resolution, she left the dead
body of her child in a forest, and returning to the Buddha paid him
homage. He said to her: “Have you the mustard-seed?” “My Lord,” she
replied, “I have not; the people tell me that the living are few, but
the dead are many.” Then he talked to her on that essential part of his
system—the impermanency of all things, till her doubts were cleared
away, and, accepting her lot, she became a disciple and entered the
first Path.
The following lines, ascribed to some of her Sisters in the Order
and given in the _Psalms_ (translated by Mrs. Rhys Davids), would
apply to Kisāgotamī:—
“Lo! from my heart the hidden shaft is gone,
The shaft that nestled there hath he removed;
And that consuming grief for my dear child,
Which poisoned all the life of me, is dead.
To-day my heart is healed, my yearning stayed,
Perfected the deliverance wrought in me.”
NOTES FOR TEACHERS
The following notes are intended for teachers who may wish to use this
collection as a class text book. In all these stories we have the idea
of the Indian God in various re-incarnations until he has attained full
Buddhahood. Beyond occasionally mentioning the fact of Re-birth in
introducing the story (so as to preserve the Oriental flavor) I do not
insist on this, nor do I introduce the name of the Buddha into the
actual table of contents at the beginning of the book, as it might seem
abstruse to the younger readers. But because I wish to appeal to
scholars in the higher sense as well as to boys and girls, I have tried
in many instances to preserve the language as given in the translation
from the Pali. I have also tried to avoid cutting out any important
episodes; this sometimes happens in the popular adaptation of these
deeply ethical stories. I have tried to keep as far as possible the
Eastern point of view, since the book is sponsored by one of the
foremost of Oriental Scholars, Dr. Rhys Davids, who has helped me with
his advice, and taught me the spirit of the whole conception.
THE HARE THAT RAN AWAY
This is the only story I have completely re-adapted for quite small
children, and I have found it among the most popular. I often tell it in
connection with Hans C. Andersen’s story of the “Scandal in the Poultry
Yard,” of which the subject is practically the same: the first being
simple and direct, the second veiled in gentle satire.
THE MONKEY AND THE CROCODILE
I include this story because of the lighter side and because we cannot
hide from our boys and girls that craft does enter into the question of
success as the world understands it. It is, however, in my mind where
the Buddha is not at his highest level. Perhaps the less this story is
explained the better.
THE SPIRIT THAT LIVED IN A TREE
This story I consider to be one of the most beautiful in the collection.
We cannot baldly appeal to the children to think “of the next
generation,” but this wonderful picture must fire their imagination
where the ordinary didactic appeal might fail.
THE HARE THAT WAS NOT AFRAID TO DIE
In this story it may be necessary to make a few words of comment on the
point of view of the Buddha which might not be quite intelligible to the
child. The fact, that though he was ready to sacrifice his own body he
had a care for the tiny insects which might perish with him, has much
significance in the story scheme. It shows not only the letter of the
law but the spirit of the love which prompted him to act, and represents
one of the principal tenets of the Buddhist Faith. The whole story is
somewhat remote from modern life, but I have found it of great interest
to children of different ages, most especially at the time when Fast
Days were called for.
THE PARROT THAT FED HIS PARENTS
The dramatic interest of this story appeals to all ages. I have found
quite young children enthralled by the adventures of the parrot. I take
exception to the lack of poetic justice in the kinsfolk sharing the
parrot’s reward—but it was necessary to the Buddha’s happiness, and if
children should raise the question, I should explain it on that ground.
THE MAN WHO WORKED TO GIVE ALMS
The method of alms-giving may not appeal to modern feeling, but the
spirit in which the gifts were made rises to wonderful heights, and the
deeds are sanctified by the self-sacrifice which brings them about. In
telling this story to groups of boys and girls accustomed to the
warnings of charity organizations, the different conditions in the East
might be mentioned.
We have here the same idea as in the story of the King who gave his
eyes. This story seems to lead up to the other, in which the sacrifice
is so much greater.
THE KING WHO SAW THE TRUTH
This story may seem at first to be above the plane of the young child. I
have eliminated all the physical suffering, because it is not necessary
to bring out the real meaning of the story. Older children (whether in
years or understanding) will be able to appreciate the beauty of the
sacrifice and the exceeding greatness of the reward.
THE BULL THAT DEMANDED FAIR TREATMENT
The fact that the Buddha insists on a fair wage, not from selfish greed
but for the sake of his employer, lifts the story from the realm of the
commonplace which the subject might suggest.
THE BULL THAT PROVED HIS GRATITUDE
An excellent illustration for children of the necessity of kindness to
animals, not only from the merciful point of view, but from the
practical question of ensuring good work.
THE HORSE THAT HELD OUT TO THE END
The children will be much impressed by the courage of the horse, and the
power of will he shows in accomplishing the task he has set himself. It
is the spirit of the soldier at its best and might be cited as displayed
during the Great War by individuals from all nations.
THE MONKEY THAT SAVED THE HERD
This is one of the most practical stories in the collection, showing
that for success in leadership it is necessary to have a quiet mind, a
great deal of knowledge, and a firm belief in success. This is the way
ogres are outwitted. The frank laying down of his cards, his open
declaration of his plans to the enemy, present the Bodisat at his best.
There is an unconscious note of humor in this tale, in presenting a
monkey as possessed of such complete self-control as to be able to bring
about so great a miracle, but if any explanation is offered in the
telling of these tales, it should be that, whatever the outward form,
the Buddha preserves the attribute of a god.
THE MALLARD THAT ASKED FOR TOO MUCH
Origin of the “Goose that laid the Golden Eggs”; Pali word for golden
goose is Hansa, whence Gans, goose.
THE MERCHANT WHO OVERCAME ALL OBSTACLES
For encouraging a spirit of enterprise, and courage under difficulties,
this is an admirable story. I think both boys and girls will apply it
(unconsciously) in their everyday undertakings, but this will depend
largely on the manner in which it is told: it must appeal to the
imagination through the dramatic presentation.
THE ELEPHANT THAT WAS HONORED IN OLD AGE
A splendid example of the honor we ought to show to those old people in
the community who have done really good work. This story might be taken
in connection with stories from history illustrating the same point.
THE FAITHFUL FRIEND
A story which will encourage children’s interest in animals and their
characteristics, and will increase their interest in observing the ways
of those animals under their care.
THE HAWK AND THE OSPREY
This story should be told as dramatically as possible, because it is
full of action and will hold the children quite breathless. The little
touch of the lion objecting at first to be roused at an unreasonable
hour is delightfully human, and the fact that when he realizes the
necessity he is ready to help, is worthy of his high position among the
animals.
GRANDMOTHER’S GOLDEN DISH
This story is specially useful because since _rogues_ are so often
successful in the ordinary sense, and we are bound to admit this
ordinary success, it is well that a graphic description of the triumph
of honesty should be presented to children which will at once appeal to
their sense of fairness.
THE ELEPHANT THAT SPARED LIFE
This may seem a little too lofty for the children, but I think it well
to include a few stories where the standard may seem too high and the
action quixotic. In later years they will realize the philosophy of the
story, but the dramatic interest will appeal at once.
HOW THE ANTELOPE WAS CAUGHT
This is an admirable treatise on the relative value of things which
children are quick to see. It should be told with increasing dramatic
force up to the final run of the foolish antelope who has sacrificed his
liberty to his greed.
THE BANYAN DEER
This is one of the most beautiful of all the Jataka stories. I have
given the whole as translated from the Buddhist Birth Stories, only
leaving out parts of the description. Any curtailed edition of the
action of this story, leaving out the tenderness of the Bodisat for the
deer that is “with young,” robs the story of its most beautiful meaning.
THE PUPIL WHO TAUGHT HIS TEACHER
This is a healthy idea and one which should commend itself to the young
who are naturally averse to the idea of Death. It is the opposite of the
idea: Whom the gods love, die young.
THE MAN WHO TOLD A LIE
In this story, if it is considered injudicious to tell children of the
hypocrisy of the teacher and the priest, the title of the man could be
left out. For my part, and from experience as a teacher, I have always
found it wise to admit and condemn the same faults in teachers and
preachers as in the laity, but to point out to the children that those
same faults are the more reprehensible because of the profession which
is degraded by such people as the false priest.
THE CROW THAT THOUGHT IT KNEW