time when the sun-rays begin to lose their strength, that a great and
very fearful, portentous event appeared to them.
4. On a sudden the sea took a terrible aspect. A violent gale arose,
causing a fearful noise of the waters, lashing their surface so that
they were covered with foam scattered by the breaking billows. The whole
sea was brought in commotion up from its very bottom.
5. Shaken by the hurricane, the immense masses of water were stirred up
and rolled with formidable rapidity. The Ocean assumed a dreadful
appearance, like that of Earth quivering with her mountains at the time
of a world-destruction.
6. Like many-headed hissing serpents, clouds of a bluish-black colour
with their flame-tongues of lightnings obstructed the path of the sun,
and without interruption produced the terrible noise of their thunder.
7. The sun, whose net-work of rays was hidden by thick clouds, gradually
reached the point where it set. Then darkness availing itself of the
opportunity of evening-time and growing, as it were, more concrete,
enveloped all around.
8, 9. Smitten on its wave-surface by the rain-darts of the showers, the
sea rose up, as if in rage, and the poor ship trembled very much, as if
afraid, saddening the hearts of the occupants, who manifested their
different natures according to their inherent qualities. Some were
overcome by affliction and stood speechless with terror, some behaved
courageously and were busily working to avert the danger, and some were
absorbed in prayers to their tutelar deities.
Now, the strong wind making the sea run high, the vessel drove along
with the current. The merchants did not discover land for many days, nor
did they observe favourable signs of the sea. The signs they saw, being
new to them, made their sadness increase, and they grew perplexed by
fear and dejection. But Supâraga, the Bodhisattva, comforted them, thus
speaking: 'You must not wonder at the sea tossing about in a portentous
state of commotion; are we not crossing the Great Ocean? There is no
reasonable ground for Your Honours to indulge in affliction. Why so?
10, 11. 'It is not by dejection that mischief is warded off; therefore
do not remain in low spirits. But it is by courage that those who are
clever to do what is to be done surmount difficulties without
difficulty. Well then, shake off that sadness and dejection, set rather
to work, availing yourselves of the opportunity of working. The energy
of a wise man, kindled by firmness of mind, is the hand by which success
is grasped in any matter.
'Let each of you then be intent on performing his special duty.' And the
merchants, in this way invigorated by the Great Being, longing for the
sight of land and looking down into the sea, beheld beings who had the
figure of men and looked as if they wore silver armour; they saw them
diving up and down the water-surface. When they had well considered
their figures and marks, they informed Supâraga of that phenomenon,
expressing their amazement. 'Verily, here we meet in the great ocean
with a phenomenon unheard of before. These, in truth, are
12. 'Some beings not unlike warriors of the Demons, wearing silver
armour, with fierce looks and ugly noses that resemble a quadruped's
hoof; it seems as if they are sporting in the ocean-water, incessantly
shooting and diving up and down its surface.'
Supâraga said: 'These are no men nor demons, but fishes, to be sure. Do
not be afraid of them. Still,
13. 'We are driven far off both seaports. This is the sea called
Khuramâlin [ = wearing hoof-garlands]. Therefore, you must try to turn
back.'
But they could not veer on account of the vehemence of the high-running
sea and of the strong wind, which continued to blow after them and
drive the ship in the same direction. And as they advanced farther into
the ocean, they perceived another sea shining with the lustre of silver
and looking bright with the mass of white foam on its waves. On
beholding this astonishing spectacle, they said to Supâraga:
14. 'What great sea is this, which is clothed, as it were, in fine white
linen and veils its waters with its foam? It seems to bear on its
surface fluid moonbeams, as it were, and to show all around a laughing
face.'
Supâraga said: 'Alas! we are penetrating too far.
15. 'That is the sea Dadhimâlin [ = wearing garlands of coagulated
milk], called the "milk-ocean." It is not wise to go farther on, at
least if it is possible to turn back.'
The merchants said: 'It is impossible, indeed, to reduce the speed of
the ship, much less to change her course. She is being driven too
swiftly by the current, and the wind blows contrary.'
Now, having crossed also that sea, the merchants perceived another sea,
whose rolling waves were tinged with the splendour of gold resembling
the red-brown colour of flames, and filled with amazement and curiosity
they spoke about it to Supâraga.
16. 'It looks now as if the high, bright waves had been tinged with the
brilliant hue of the rising sun. They appear to us like a great, blazing
fire. Say, what sea is this and how is it named for this reason?'
Supâraga answered:
17. 'Agnimâlin [ = wearing fire-garlands] is the celebrated name of this
sea. It would be very prudent, indeed, if we were to turn back now.'
Thus saying the Great Being, far-seeing as he was, told them only the
name of that sea, but concealed the cause of the change of colour of the
water. After crossing also that sea, the merchants saw that the colour
of the sea changed again; now its hue bore a resemblance to a grove of
ripe ku_s_a-grass, and its waters were illuminated with the lustre of
topazes and sapphires; and prompted by curiosity they asked Supâraga:
18. 'Which of the seas now appears to us? Its waters have the colour of
the blades of ripe ku_s_a-grass. The breaking of its wind-stirred
billows crowns it with a many-coloured foam-ornament, and makes it look
as if it were overspread with flowers.'
Supâraga said: 'Say, merchants, you should now make efforts to turn
back. Surely it is not advisable to go farther.
19. 'This is the sea named Ku_s_amâlin [= wearing kusa-garlands]. Like
an elephant not heeding the goad, it drags forcibly along with its
irresistible waves, and will take away our enjoyment.'
And the merchants, not being able to turn the ship, however bravely they
exerted themselves, crossed also that sea. Then perceiving another sea,
the water of which had a greenish colour like that proceeding from the
united brilliancy of emeralds and beryls, they asked Supâraga:
20. 'The sea we now behold has yet another appearance. Its waters have
the green shine of emeralds and resemble a splendid meadow; they are
adorned with foam as lovely as waterlilies. Which sea is this again?'
Upon this the Great Being, whose heart ached as he foresaw the calamity
which was about to befall the merchants, heaved a long and deep sigh,
and said in a low tone:
21. 'You have gone too far. It will be hard to return from hence. This
sea, the Nalamâlin [= wearing reed-garlands[120]], is well-nigh at the
end of the world.'
[120] In the Pâli redaction this sea has the appearance of an
immense reed-bed or bamboo-grove (nalavana_m_ viya _k_a
ve_l_uvana_m_ viya _k_a), and the commentator argues that those
names of grasses convey also the acceptation of some precious
stones. But the stones there are of a red colour.
When they heard that answer, the poor merchants were utterly afflicted.
Their minds lost their energy, their limbs became powerless, and sitting
down in dull sadness, they did nothing but sigh. And after crossing
that sea too, in the afternoon, when the Sun with his slackening circle
of rays seemed to be about to enter the Ocean, a confused and tremendous
noise, piercing both the ears and the hearts of the merchants, became
audible. This noise rising from the sea may be compared to that of a sea
swelling in rage, or of many thunderclaps together, or of bamboo-groves
having caught fire and crackling. On hearing it, they suddenly jumped
from their seats, trembling with fear and highly agitated, and examining
the ocean all around, perceived that immense mass of water falling down
as if over some precipice or chasm. That alarming sight filled them with
the utmost fear, sadness, and dejection. They went to Supâraga, saying:
22. 'We hear a tremendous noise from afar, almost piercing our ears and
crushing our minds, as if the Lord of the Rivers were angry, and this
whole mass of ocean-water falls down, it seems, into an awful abyss.
Say, then, what sea is that, and what do you think is best to be done
now?'
Then the Great Being, agitated, said: 'Alas! alas!' and looking down
over the sea, he spoke:
23. 'You have come to that dreadful place, from which no one returns,
that mouth-like entrance of Death, the famous Mare-mouth[121].'
[121] This va_d_avâmukha is the place where, according to Hindu
mythology, the submarine fire resides.
On hearing this the poor merchants, understanding that having reached
the Mare-mouth, they must give up all hope of life, were distressed by
the fear of death.
24-26. Some of them wept aloud or lamented and cried out. Others did
nothing at all, being torpid from anxiety. Some with sorrow-stricken
minds worshipped the deities, especially the Lord of the Devas, others
resorted to the Âdityas, the Rudras, the Maruts, the Vasus, and to
Sâgara himself [the Ocean]. Others again muttered various prayers, and
there were those who paid in due form homage to Devi. Some again went
to Supâraga, and in various modes and ways lamented piteously.
27-29. 'Practised in the virtue of compassionateness for others, you are
in the habit of relieving from fear those who are in distress. Now the
time has arrived for employing that excessive power of yours. Resolve,
then, O wise man, upon rescuing us, the distressed, the helpless, who
have taken our refuge in you. The Ocean in his wrath is now about to
swallow us with his Mare-mouth, like a mouthful of food. It does not
become you to neglect this poor crew perishing in the rolling waves. The
great Ocean obeys your orders. Therefore, put a stop to his rage.'
But the Great Being felt his heart oppressed with great compassion and
spoke thus, comforting the poor merchants: 'There is still an expedient
to rescue us even now. It occurs to my mind. Why, I will make use of it.
But you must show courage for a moment.' Now, when the merchants heard
this, the hope that there was still some remedy, after all, revived
their courage, and fixing their whole attention upon him, they became
silent. But Supâraga, the Bodhisattva, after throwing his upper-garment
on one shoulder and bending his right knee on the ship's deck[122], made
his veneration to the Tathâgatas, having his whole heart absorbed by
that deed of devotion; after which he thus addressed the company: 'Be
you, honourable sea-traders, and you, different gods, who have your
dwelling in the sky, my witnesses.
[122] In the Pâli redaction the Bodhisatta orders the merchants to
bathe his body with fragrant water and to clothe him with unwashed,
i.e. new, garments, and to prepare a vessel filled with water, to
pour out while performing his sa_kk_akiriyâ.
30. 'Since I have remembrance of my Self, since the time when I have
become conscious of my deeds, I do not recollect, however much I ponder,
having injured in any respect any living being.
31. 'By the power of this Act of Truth and by the strength of my store
of meritorious actions may the ship turn safely without reaching the
Mare-mouth!'
And so great was the power of the veracity of the Great Being, so great
also the splendour of his merit[123], that the current and the wind
changed to the opposite direction and made the vessel go back. The
merchants beholding the ship go back, exulted with the highest
admiration and joy, and expressing their veneration to Supâraga by
reverential bows, told him that the ship went back. Then the Great Being
instructed them to be calm and to hoist the sails quickly. And being
thus ordered, they who had the charge of that work, having regained by
their gladness their ability and energy, did as he had said.
[123] In the Pâli version it is the power of the Great Being's
veracity alone that causes the winds to change.
32. Then, resplendent with the lovely outspread wings of her white
sails, and filled with the sound of her merry and laughing crew, the
ship flew over the sea, like a flamingo in the pure and cloudless sky.
Now while the ship, favoured by both current and wind, returned with as
much ease as the heavenly cars move through the air, and was flying, so
to speak, at her will, at that time of the day, when the gathering
darkness extends far and wide, and the sky, no more adorned by the
dimming glow of the twilight, begins to make the ornaments of its
constellations appear on the firmament, where still a faint remnant of
light is left, in that moment, then, of the commencement of the rule of
Night, Supâraga addressed the merchants in these terms: 'Well, traders,
while crossing the Nalamâlin sea and the others, you must draw up sand
and stones from the bottom of the seas and charge your ship with as much
as she can contain. By this practice she will keep her sides firm, if
assailed by a violent hurricane; besides, that sand and gravel being
pronounced to be auspicious, will doubtless tend to your profit and
gain.' And the merchants, being shown the fit places all along by the
deities, who did so out of affection and veneration for Supâraga, drew
up from thence what they meant to be sand and stones, and loaded their
ship with that burden. But, in fact, that sand and those stones were
beryls and other jewels. And in that one night's course they reached
Bharuka_kkh_a[124].
[124] According to the Pâli story, they had spent a four months'
voyage before they reached the Mare-mouth.
33. At day-break they beheld with gladness their ship filled with
treasures: silver, gold, sapphires, beryls, and at the same time they
saw that they had arrived in their country; and exulting with joy they
praised their saviour.
* * * * *
In this manner even speaking the truth on the ground of Righteousness is
sufficient to dispel calamity, what can be said more to assert the good
results of observing the Law? Thus considering, one must observe the
Law. [Likewise, when discoursing on the assistance of a virtuous friend,
it is to be said: 'In this way those who rest on a virtuous friend
attain happiness.']
XV. THE STORY OF THE FISH.
(Cp. Pâli _G_âtaka, No. 75, Fausb. I, 331-32; _K_ariyâpi_t_aka III, 10.)
The designs of those who practise good conduct will be successful and
thrive even in this world, how much more in the next. For this reason
perfect pureness of conduct ought to be striven after, as will be taught
by the following.
The Bodhisattva, it is said, was once a chief of fishes, living in a
certain small lake, the lovely water of which was embellished with
various lotuses and waterlilies, white, red, and blue, adorned with
couples of swans, ducks, and geese, and covered with the blossoms of the
trees growing on its borders. Yet, owing to his constant practice of
(the virtue of) helping others in many previous births, he was wholly
given up to the business of procuring for others what would be good and
agreeable to them, even in this fish-existence.
1. By the power of a long practice, actions good or wicked become
inherent in mankind to such an extent that they will perform them in a
new existence without any effort and, as it were, while sleeping[125].
[125] The technical name for that imbibing of good qualities is
sâtmîbhâva.
The Great Being, then, had set his heart on those fishes, as if they
were his own dear offspring, and showed them his favour in various ways:
by gifts, kind words, attending to their interests, and the like.
2. He restrained them from desiring to injure each other and made their
mutual affection grow. Owing to this, and his efforts, and his knowledge
of every expedient, he made them forget their habit of feeding in the
(cruel) manner of fishes.
3. Duly protected by him, that shoal of fishes came to great prosperity,
just as a town, when ruled by a king that acts in the proper manner,
enjoys freedom from every kind of mishap.
One time, because of the deficiency of good fortune in the creatures and
the neglect of the angels who have the charge of rain, the (rain)god did
not rain his due amount. In consequence of this scantiness of rain, the
lake was not filled up as before with new water yellow-coloured by the
expanding flowers of the kadamba-trees. Afterwards, when the hot season
arrived, the rays of the sun, burning more ardently and being, as it
were, exhausted with fatigue, drank from that lake day after day; so did
Earth heated by those rays; likewise Wind, who being, as it were,
accompanied by flames, would long for refreshment. All three assuaging
their thirst in the lake, so to speak, made it at last turn into a pool.
4. In the hot season the flaming Sun, the pungent Wind who seems to send
forth flames, and heat-wearied Earth sick with fever, dry up the waters,
as if they would allay their wrath.
That shoal of fishes, then, had come into a miserable condition. Not
only the crowds of birds haunting the borders of the lake, but even
troops of crows commenced to look upon them as their prey, for they
could do nothing but lie and gasp. The Bodhisattva perceived the
affliction and grief of his tribe, and moved with compassion entered
upon this reflection: 'Oh! these wretched fishes, what a calamity has
befallen them!
5. 'The water is decreasing every day, as if it vied with the life of
mortals, and as yet clouds are not to be expected to come at all for a
long time.
6, 7. 'There is no opportunity of withdrawing; and if there were, who
should lead us elsewhere? Besides, our enemies, invited by our calamity,
throng together against us. No doubt, they do but wait for the remainder
of the water to dry up to devour these prostrate fishes under my very
eyes.
'Now, what may be the proper act to be done here?' Thus considering, the
Great Being saw but one means for relief, if he should avail himself of
his veracity. Accordingly, while grieved by compassion in his mind and
heaving a long and deep sigh, he looked upwards to the sky and spoke:
8. 'As truly as I do not recollect, however pondering, that I ever did
harm to any living being, not even in the highest distress, by the power
of this truth may the King of the Devas fill the water-basins with the
water of his rains.'
When the Great Being had pronounced these words, there happened a
miracle, occasioned by the power of his veracity joined to the store of
his merit and to the favour shown to him by Devas, Snakes and Yakshas,
who put into effect their might. In all parts of the sky there appeared
rain-clouds, though out of season yet in the proper time[126]. They were
hanging low, being loaded with rain; the deep and soft sound of
approaching thunder was heard out of them; while flashes of lightning
adorned their big and dark-blue tops, they were spreading over the sky,
as if they embraced each other with their heads and arms gradually
approaching.
[126] Or 'rain-clouds, out of season and black.' The pun is in the
word kâlamegha.
9. Like the shadows of mountains projected in the mirror of the sky, the
black clouds appeared, diminishing like those the circumference of the
horizon and occasioning darkness with their tops.
10. The rumbling noise of the thunderclaps now resounded around,
inducing the peacocks to utter cries of gladness and to perform various
dancing movements, as if they praised the clouds. These accessories
together with the incessant illumination by lightning gave the effect of
great merriness and laughter irradiating those cloud-masses.
11. Then the clouds let loose streams of rain, which fell down like
pearls loosened from their shells. The dust subsided, and a strong smell
extended itself, carried about by means of the wind which accompanied
the thunder-shower.
12. The sun-rays, though their power had reached its highest degree
because of the hot season, were now hidden, and currents of water ran
down from the mountains, troubling their banks with the rows of foam
which they deposited.
13. And it was as if the slender figure of Lightning, illuminating the
firmament again and again with her gold-yellow light-appearances,
performed her dances, rejoiced at the music of the cloud-instruments.
Now, while the currents of palish water flowing to the lake from all
sides were filling it, the crows and other birds had flown away at the
very outset of the thunderstorm. The crowds of fishes recovering the
hope of life, were much rejoiced. Yet the Bodhisattva, though his heart
was pervaded with gladness, fearing lest the rain should cease, thus
spoke to Par_g_anya again and again:
14. 'Roar, Par_g_anya, roar a roaring, loud and deep; dispel the joy of
the crows, pouring out thy waters like jewels endowed with the flaming
brilliancy of lightning, their companion[127].'
[127] The corresponding gâthâ in the Pâli _G_âtaka (Fausb. I, p.
332) is also found in the _K_ariyâpi_t_aka (III, 10, 7) with some
preferable various readings. In both redactions the birds have
already begun to kill and devour the fishes, when the Bodhisatta
performs his sa_kk_akiriyâ and addresses Pa_gg_unna, commanding
him, says the _G_âtaka prose-writer, 'as a man would do his
attendant slave.' This exhortation is uttered before the appearance
of the clouds, which I suppose to be the older version of our
story.
When _S_akra, the Lord of the Devas, heard this, he became highly
astonished and went in person to him. And eulogizing him, he spoke:
15. 'Surely, it is thy power, the effect of thy transcendent veracity, O
mighty lord of fishes, that makes these rain-clouds pour out their
waters with the lovely noise of thunder, as if they were waterpots bent
down.
16. 'But I should incur the blame of great inattention if I neglected to
approve of the exertions of such beings as thou, intent on performing
such deeds for the benefit of the world.
17. 'Therefore, thou must be henceforth no more anxious. I am bound to
assist the virtuous in carrying out their designs. Never shall this
region, since it is the abode of thy virtues, be visited another time by
a similar plague.'
After thus praising him in kind terms, he disappeared on the spot. And
that lake obtained a very large increase of water.
* * * * *
In this manner the designs of those who practise good conduct will be
successful and thrive even in this world, how much more in the next. For
this reason entire pureness of conduct ought to be striven after.
XVI. THE STORY OF THE QUAIL'S YOUNG.
(Cp. the Pâli _G_âtaka, No. 35, Fausb. I, 213-14; _K_ariyâpi_t_aka III,
9.)
Not even fire is able to surpass speech purified by truth. Having this
in mind, one must addict one's self to speaking the truth. This will be
taught as follows.
Once the Bodhisattva, it is said, lived in some part of the forest as a
young quail. He had come out of the egg some nights before, and could
not fly, his tender wings having still to grow both in height and in
width; in his very small and weak body the different limbs, principal
and minor, were hardly discernible. So he dwelt with his numerous
brothers in the nest which his parents had built with great care and
made impervious by a strong covering of grass. This nest was placed on a
creeper within a thicket. Yet, still in this existence, he had not lost
his consciousness of the Law, and would not feed on such living beings
as his father and mother offered to them, but exclusively sustained
himself by (the vegetable food) which was brought by his parents:
grass-seeds, figs of the banian tree, &c. In consequence of this coarse
and insufficient nourishment, his body did not thrive nor would his
wings develop. The other young quails, on the contrary, who fed on
everything offered to them, became strong and got full-grown wings. For
this, indeed, is an invariable rule:
1. He who, not anxious about the precepts of the Law, eats everything,
will thrive at his ease, but such a one as seeks for his livelihood in
accordance with the precepts, and is careful about the choice of his
food, will endure pain in this world[128].