204. On the Perfecting of the Perfections

“Mine eyes have I torn out! My heart’s flesh have I uprooted!”

Extract from Dhammapada Commentary i. 1.

[289] On a certain occasion, we are told, a rich merchant of Sāvatthi named Anāthapiṇḍika entertained the Buddha. But because Anāthapiṇḍika remembered that the Buddha was of royal descent, and had been reared amid wealth and luxury, it occurred to him that his guest might grow weary were he to ask him to preach the Doctrine. Therefore he refrained from asking him any questions.

But so soon as Anāthapiṇḍika took his seat, says the legend, the Buddha read his thoughts, and reflected: “This merchant protects me where I have no need to be protected. For I spent four periods of time of incalculable length, and a hundred thousand cycles of time in addition, perfecting the Perfections. My own gloriously adorned head have I cut off! Mine eyes have I torn out! My heart’s flesh have I uprooted! Both son and wife, dear to me as life, have I renounced! – And all this I did that I might preach the Doctrine to others. This merchant protects me where I have no need to be protected.” And straightway be preached the Doctrine.

205. On the Attainment of Enlightenment

“Blessed indeed is that mother, whose son is such a one as he!”

Extract from Dhammapada Commentary i. 8 a.

In one of his previous states of existence, at a time in the past so unimaginably remote that only the merest suggestion of its re [290] moteness is conveyed by the statement that it was four periods of time of incalculable length and a hundred thousand cycles of time in addition in the past, the future Buddha performed a work of merit and formed the High Resolve thereby to attain Enlightenment, to become a Buddha. After he had fulfilled the Ten Perfections and the Ten Minor Perfections and the Ten Major Perfections, making in all Thirty Perfections, he was reborn as Vessantara. In his existence as Vessantara he bestowed alms so generously that the earth trembled and quaked, and in that existence also he renounced both wife and children. When the term of life allotted to him was come to an end, he was reborn in heaven; and when he had remained in this state of existence during the term of life allotted to him, the deities of the Ten Thousand Worlds assembled together and thus addressed him:

The time is at hand, valiant hero; descend into the womb of your mother;
Deliver the worlds of men and gods; reveal the Region of the Deathless.

Thereupon he made the Five Great Observations, and passing from that state of existence, received a new existence in the royal household of the Sākiyas, as the son of King Suddhodana and Queen Mahā Māyā. In this royal household he was brought up amid wealth and splendor, and in the course of time attained auspicious youth. He spent his youth in three mansions appropriate to the three seasons of the year, enjoying splendor and majesty of sovereignty comparable to the splendor of the World of the Gods. In the course of time it came to pass that, as he proceeded on four successive days to the garden to disport himself, he beheld the Four Heavenly Messengers: an Old Man, a Sick Man, a Corpse, and a Monk. Thereupon he resolved to become a monk. In the evening, as he entered the city, his cousin Kisā Gotamī thus saluted him:

Blessed indeed is that mother, blessed indeed is that father,
Blessed indeed is that wife, whose husband is such a one as he!

Renouncing son and wife, he adopted the Religious Life, and for six years engaged in prolonged fasts and other austerities, hoping thereby to win mastery over self and attain Supreme Enlightenment. While thus engaged, he was tempted by the Evil One. But the future Buddha rebuked the Evil One, and he departed for [291] a season. At the end of this period of austerities, called the Great Struggle, he seated himself cross-legged in Mahāvana Grove, and spent the day in the various degrees of Ecstatic Meditation. In the evening he ascended the Throne of Enlightenment and formed the following resolution: “I will not abandon this posture until I have ceased utterly to crave the things of this world, and my heart is rid of the Depravities.”

Thereupon he seated himself under a banyan-tree, facing the east, and before the sun had set, overcame the host of the Evil One. In the first watch he beheld the entire course of his past lives. In the second watch he beheld the fate after death of all living beings. At the conclusion of the third and last watch, he came to understand that the cause of human suffering is Craving for worldly pleasures and life and riches; that if this Craving be up rooted, rebirth and suffering will come to an end; that this Craving can be uprooted by right belief, right living, and the practice of meditation. And thus he became Buddha, the Awakened, the Enlightened. Thereupon he breathed forth the Song of Triumph of All the Buddhas:

Craving, Builder of the House of Repeated Existences

Through a round of countless existences have I run to no purpose,
Seeking the Builder of the House. Repeated existences involve suffering.

I see thee, Builder of the House! Thou shalt not build the House again!
Broken are all thy rafters! Shattered is thy ridge-pole!
The heart, at rest in Nibbāna, has attained Extinction of Cravings.

206. Abatement of Plagues at Vesāli

“If he but come hither, these plagues will subside”

Extract from Dhammapada Commentary xxi. 1.

Once upon a time the city of Vesāli was a city of splendor and magnificence and great wealth; numerous were the folk that dwelt therein, and the streets thereof were thronged with inhabitants; therein resided seven thousand and seven hundred and seven Warrior princes, who reigned by turns. For each of the seven thousand and seven hundred and seven princes was provided a separate [292] place of residence; equal in number were the palaces and pagodas; equal in number were the parks and pools, that each might take his pleasure out of doors. But after a time the food-supply gave out and the crops failed and a famine ensued. Thus arose plagues three in number: the plague of famine, the plague of evil spirits, and the plague of disease.

Then the inhabitants of the city assembled and met together and said to the king: “One that is Supremely Enlightened, a Buddha, has arisen in the world, for he, the Exalted One, preaches a Doctrine that avails to the weal and welfare and happiness of all living beings. Moreover, he possesses great magical power and great supernatural power. If he but come hither, these plagues will instantly subside.” Accordingly they approached the Exalted One, did reverence to him, and spoke thus: “Reverend Sir, three plagues have arisen at Vesāli. If you but go thither, they will subside. Come, Reverend Sir, let us go thither.” The Exalted One acceded to their request.

At eventide the Buddha took his stand at the gate of the city of Vesāli and spoke thus to the Beloved Disciple Ānanda: “Ānanda, receive from me this Sutta of the Three Jewels [Buddha, Doctrine, Order of Monks], and recite it as a charm within the three walls of the city of Vesāli, making the rounds thereof with the Licchavi princes.” Elder Ānanda received the Sutta of the Three Jewels from the lips of the Buddha, took holy water in the Buddha’s stone bowl, and went and took his stand at the gate of the city.

And standing at the gate of the city, Ānanda meditated on all the Merits of the Buddha, beginning with his High Resolve; considering in turn the Ten Perfections of the Tathāgata, the Ten Minor Perfections, and the Ten Major Perfections; the Five Great Sacrifices; the Three Meritorious Acts: in behalf of the world, in behalf of his kinsmen, and for the sake of Enlightenment; his Descent into the Womb in the last state of his existence; his Birth of Queen Māyā; the Great Retirement from the World; the Great Struggle, the Conquest of Māra the Evil One on the Throne of Enlightenment under the Bo-tree, the Attainment of Omniscience, and the Nine Transcendent Conditions.

And when he had so done, he entered the city, and during the [293] three watches of the night went about within the walls thereof reciting the Sutta of the Three Jewels as a charm.

1. Ye spirits that are in this place assembled,
Whether in earth ye dwell, or ’twixt the earth and heaven,
Show each and all a kindly disposition,
And then attentive hark to what is uttered!

2. Therefore, O spirits, be ye all attentive,
With friendliness suffuse all human beings,
Who day and night bring unto you their offerings:
Therefore do ye with needfulness protect them.

3. Of all the wealth in this world or the next world,
Of all the precious jewels in the heavens,
The like of the Tathāgata exists not,
This is the Precious Jewel of the Buddha:
If this be true, then let there be Salvation!

The moment he uttered the words Of all the wealth in this world or the next world, and threw the water upwards, it fell upon the evil spirits. From the third stanza on, drops of water resembling tiny balls of silver rose into the air and fell upon the sick men. Straightway the sickness of those men was cured, and rising to their feet in all quarters, they surrounded the Elder. And the evil spirits, with one accord, departed from the city and returned no more.

207. The King who took upon himself the Sins and Sufferings of his People

“If there be any that hunger, it is I that have made them hungry.”

From E. Chavannes, Cinq Cents Contes No. 15.

On the Perfection of Generosity

When we speak of the Perfection of Generosity, what do we mean?

To surround men and animals with benevolent care; to have compassion on the multitude of those that are in error; to rejoice that wise men have succeeded in obtaining Salvation; to protect and succor all living beings; overpassing the heavens and over stepping the earth, to cherish benevolence wide as a river or as the sea, and to exhibit liberality to all living beings; to feed those [294] that are hungry; to relieve those that are thirsty; to clothe those that are cold; to refresh those that suffer with heat; to offer prompt assistance with medicines; when it is a matter of chariots, horses, boats, vehicles, precious substances of all kinds, including famous jewels, husbands and wives, children, or kingdom, – whatever it may be that is asked for, – to make gift thereof immediately, – even as did the crown-prince Sudāna, who exhibited his liberality towards the poor even as a father nourishes his children, and who, when he was banished by the king his father, entertained pity, but not hatred.

King Kindly-and-Silent.

Thus have I heard: Once upon a time the Buddha was keeping residence in the kingdom of Shrāvastī, at the Jetavana monastery, in Anāthapiṇḍada’s Grove. The Buddha said to the monks:

Once upon a time there was a king named Kindly-and-Silent. This king conducted himself with goodness and fairness. He loved the people as if they had been his children. In governing his kingdom, he applied just laws, and there was no one among his people who entertained hatred for him. His kingdom was a large one, and every one that was therein was occupied with his own business.

This king always cherished sentiments of benevolence, and looked with compassion on the multitude of living beings. He was afflicted by their stupidity and by their errors, through which, in their folly, they brought only loss upon themselves. He sought after and maintained principles of wisdom, and it was his delight not to be ignorant of anything. He had pity on all living beings, and protected them as does Shakra, king of the deities.

Murder, theft, lewdness, deceit, slander, falsehood, words of double meaning, jealousy, anger, – none of all these evil things had left any trace in his heart. He exhibited filial piety and obedience to his father and mother; he respected and loved his relatives within nine degrees of kindred. He sought out the wise men and honored the holy men. He believed in the Buddha, he believed in the Law, he believed in the words of the monks. He believed that good deeds are rewarded with happiness, and that evil deeds are punished with misfortune. He kept the plain rules of the Ten Good Courses of Conduct: [295]

Ten Commandments of the Buddha.

Sinful Acts

1. Thou shalt not take the life of any living being.
2. Thou shalt not take that which is not given.
3. Thou shalt not give way to the sins of the flesh.

Sinful Words

4. Thou shalt not speak falsehood.
5. Thou shalt not speak harshly.
6. Thou shalt not utter slander.
7. Thou shalt not speak idle words.

Sinful Thoughts

8. Thou shalt not covet,
9. Thou shalt not wish evil to another.
10. Thou shalt not entertain false doctrine.

Another List of Ten.

1-4. As above.
5. Thou shalt avoid occasions of heedlessness through the use of liquor or spirits or other intoxicants.
6-10. Rules for persons vowed to the religious life.

King Kindly-and-Silent and the thief.

It so happened that in his kingdom there was a poor man in such a state of misery that he could endure it no longer. Being at the end of his resources, he committed a theft. The owner of the stolen goods arrested him and arraigned him before the king.

The king asked him: “Did you steal?”

The thief replied that he had indeed stolen.

“Why,” returned the king, “did you steal?”

The thief replied: “I was actually in terrible misery, and had no means of living; that is why, breaking your laws, so holy and plain, I walked into the fire and committed a theft.”

The king, penetrated with compassion, praised him for his frank sincerity, and quite embarrassed, felt ashamed of himself. Heaving a deep sigh, he said: “If there are among my people those that suffer from hunger, it is I that have made them hungry. If there are among my people those that suffer from cold, it is I that have stripped them of their garments.” Then he added: “I am so situated that I can bring it about that no one in my kingdom shall be in misery. On me alone depend the sufferings and the enjoyments of the people.”

Accordingly he granted a general amnesty to his kingdom. He brought forth all the precious objects which he had in his store-houses [296] and dispensed them in largesses. Those who were worn out with hunger and thirst, he made to eat and drink. Those who were cold, he clad. Those who were sick, he provided with medicines. Fields, gardens, dwellings, gold, silver, round pearls and irregular pearls, – of all these, each person obtained as much as he asked for. From the birds that fly and the animals that walk, to the in sects, all obtained all that they wanted, in the matter of the five kinds of cereals and products of the soil.

From the moment when the king dispensed these largesses, the kingdom was prosperous and the people lived in comfort. One per son drew another towards wisdom. Among the people, no one killed any more, nor stole the goods of another, nor sinned with the wife of another, nor was a cheat or a slanderer or a liar or insincere in his talk or jealous or angry: all these wicked and mean impulses subsided and disappeared. All men believed in the Buddha, believed in the Law, believed in the monks; they believed that whoever does good deeds obtains happiness, that whoever practices evil incurs misfortune. The whole kingdom was peaceful and happy; the punishments of the lash and the stick were no more administered. The enemy kingdoms made their submission; the arms of war rotted in the magazines; in the prisons no more were prisoners put in chains. The people praised this happy state of things, and said: “What happiness, that we were permitted to live at such a time!”

The deities, the dragons, the demons, and the spirits, – all, without exception, contributed to the rejoicing, and accorded their favors and their protection to this kingdom. Baneful influences disappeared; the five cereals ripened in abundance; households possessed them in abundance. But more particularly the king rejoiced; at that time he obtained the Five Blessings. These are the Five Blessings: (1) to live long; (2) to possess comeliness that grows each day; (3) to possess virtue which shakes the eight directions, the zenith and the nadir; (4) to have no sickness, and to have energy which increases each day; (5) to possess a kingdom whose four regions are at peace, and to have a heart that rejoices without ceasing.

When, finally, the king died, he was at that moment like a man in full vigor, who eats heartily and delights to sleep. Immediately he was reborn in heaven among the gods of the Thirty-three. As for the people of this kingdom, they kept the Ten Commandments [297] which the king had given to them, and there was none of them that went to be reborn in the form of a denizen of hell, a hungry ghost, or an animal: after their death, they were all reborn in heaven among the deities.

The Buddha said to the monks: “At that time, he that was King Kindly-and-Silent was I myself.”

Having heard this religious instruction, the monks rejoiced above measure; they bowed to the Buddha and then withdrew.

B. On the Sacrifice of the Body and Blood

“I will satisfy the hunger of my friends with my own body and blood!”

208. Boar and Lion

“Eat me, O lion!”

Adapted from C. H. Tawney, Ocean of the Streams of Story
(Kathāsaritsāgara), Chapter 72.

In times past there dwelt in a cave the Vindhya mountains a wise boar, who was none other than the Buddha in a previous state of existence, and with him his friend a monkey. He was compassionate towards all living beings. One day there came to his cave a lion and a lioness and their cub. And the lion said to his mate: “Since the rains have hindered the movements of all living beings, we shall of a certainty perish for lack of some animal to eat.” And the lioness said: “Of a certainty one or another of us is destined to die of hunger. Therefore do you and the cub eat me, for thus you will save your lives! Are you not my lord and master? Can you not get another mate like me? Therefore do you and the cub eat me, for thus you will save your lives!”

Now at that moment the wise boar awoke, and hearing the words of the lioness, was delighted, and thought to himself: “This is the fruit of the merit which I have acquired in previous states of existence. I will satisfy the hunger of my friends with my own body and blood.” Then the wise boar arose from his bed and went out of his cave and said to the lion: “My good friend, do not despair. For here I am, ready to be eaten by you and your mate [298] and your cub. Eat me, lion!” Now when the lion heard these words, he was delighted, and said to his mate: “Let our cub eat first; then I will eat, and you shall eat after me.” The lioness agreed.

So first the cub ate some of the flesh of the wise boar, and then the lion began to eat. And while he was eating, the wise boar said to him: “Be quick and drink my blood before it sinks into the ground, and satisfy your hunger with my flesh, and let your mate eat what is left.” So the lion gradually devoured the flesh until only the bones were left. But – wonderful to relate! – the wise boar did not die, for his life remained in him, as if to see how long his endurance would endure. In the meantime the lioness died of hunger in the cave, and the lion went off somewhere or other with his cub, and so the night came to an end.

Then the monkey awoke and went out of the cave, and seeing the wise boar reduced to a heap of bones, became greatly excited and exclaimed: “What reduced you to a heap of bones? Tell me, O friend, if you can.” So the wise boar told him the whole story. Then the monkey did reverence to the wise boar, and said to him: “Tell me what you wish me to do, and I will do it.” The wise boar replied: “I wish only to have my body restored to me like as it was before, and to have the lioness that died of hunger restored to life again, that she may satisfy her hunger with my body and blood.” Thereupon, as the fruit of the merit which the wise boar had acquired, he was transformed into a sage, and the monkey into a sage likewise.

209. Fairy-Prince and Griffin

“Eat me, O griffin!”

Adapted from C. H. Tawney, Ocean of the Streams of Story
(Kathāsaritsāgara), Chapters 22 and 90.

On a ridge of the Himālaya stands a city called the Golden City, for it gleams from afar like the rays of the sun. And in that city, once upon a time, lived the king of the fairies, and his name was Jīmūta-ketu. And in the garden of his palace grew a wishing-tree, and its name was Granter of Desires, for it granted all desires. [299]

By the favor of that tree the king obtained a son, who was none other than the Future Buddha, and his name was Jīmūta-vāhana. He was valiant in generosity, of mighty courage, and compassion ate towards all living beings.

When Jīmūta-vāhana was become of age, his father made him crown-prince. Thus did he become the fairy-prince. And when he had become the fairy-prince, the ministers of the kingdom came to him and said: “O fairy-prince, do reverence always to this wishing-tree, for it grants all desires, and cannot be resisted by any living creature. For so long as we possess this tree, we cannot suffer injury of any kind from anyone, even from Indra, king of the gods, much less from any other.”

When Jīmūta-vāhana heard these words, he thought to himself: “Alas! our forefathers, for all their possession of this noble tree, obtained by the favor of this tree naught but wealth and victory over their enemies; thus did they demean themselves, and thus did they demean this tree likewise. For no such purposes as these will I employ this tree. For I know that the good things of this world endure but for a short while, and then perish and vanish utterly. But friendliness and compassion and generosity towards all living beings yield abundant fruit, both in this world and in the next. As for wealth, if it be not used for the benefit of others, it is like lightning which for an instant stings the eye, and then flickers and vanishes. Therefore if this wishing-tree which we possess, and which grants all desires, be employed for the benefit of others, we shall reap from it all the fruit that it can give. Accordingly I will so act that by the wealth of this tree all living beings shall be delivered from poverty and distress.”

Then Jīmūta-vāhana went to the wishing-tree and said: “O tree spirit, thou that dost grant to us the fruit that we desire, fulfil to-day this one wish of mine: Deliver all living beings from poverty and distress.” Straightway – wonderful to relate! – the wishing tree showered a shower of gold upon the earth, and all living beings rejoiced thereat and became well-disposed to Jīmūta-vāhana, and the fame and glory of him spread both near and far. But the relatives of Jīmūta-ketu, seeing that his throne was firmly established by the glory of his son, were moved to jealousy and became hostile to him. And because the kingdom of Jīmūta-ketu was weak, they determined to attack it and overthrow it, and to take possession [300] of the wishing-tree that granted all desires. And they assembled and met together and began preparations to attack the kingdom of Jīmūta-ketu and to overthrow it and to take possession of the wishing-tree that granted all desires.

Thereupon Jīmūta-vāhana the fairy-prince said to Jīmūta-ketu the fairy-king his father: “Why should we seek to obtain new wealth, or to retain the wealth that we possess? Is not this body of ours like a bubble in the water, which bursts in an instant and vanishes? Is it not like a candle, which, when it is exposed to the wind, flickers for an instant and goes out? Should a wise man desire to obtain wealth or to retain it when it is obtained, by the killing of living beings? I will not fight with my relatives. Therefore I will leave my kingdom and go to some forest-hermitage. Let these miserable wretches do as they like, but let us not kill the members of our own family.”

And Jīmūta-ketu the fairy-king said to Jīmūta-vāhana the fairy-prince his son: “Then will I too go, my son. For what desire for rule can I have, who am old, when you, who are young, out of compassion towards all living beings, abandon your kingdom as though it were so much straw and stubble?” Thereupon Jīmūta-vāhana, with his father and mother, went to the Malaya mountain, and took up his abode in a forest-hermitage, the dwelling of the fairy-magicians, the Siddhas, where the brooks were hidden by the sandalwood trees, and devoted himself to the care of his father and mother.

One day, as he was roaming about with a companion, he came to a wood on the shore of the sea. There he saw many heaps of bones. And he said to his companion: “Whose bones are these?” His companion replied: “Give ear, and I will tell you the story in a few words.”

Fairy-king and griffin.

In times past Kadrū and Vinatā, the two wives of Kashyapa, had a quarrel. Kadrū said that the horses of the Sun were black, and Vinatā said that they were white, and they made a wager that whichever of the two was wrong should become a slave of the other. Then Kadrū, bent on winning, actually induced her sons the snakes to defile the horses of the Sun by spitting venom over them; [301] and showing them to Vinatā thus defiled, she conquered her by a trick and made her a slave.

When the griffin, the son of Vinatā, heard of that, he came and tried to induce Kadrū to release Vinatā from slavery. Then the snakes, the sons of Kadrū, said to the griffin, the son of Vinatā: “O griffin, the gods have begun to churn the sea of milk. Fetch thence the drink of immortality and give it to us as a substitute, and then take your mother away with you.” When the griffin heard these words, he went to the sea of milk and displayed his mighty prowess in order to obtain the drink of immortality. Then the god Vishnu, pleased with his mighty prowess, condescended to say to him: “I am pleased with thee; choose some boon.” Then the griffin, angry because his mother had been made a slave, asked the following boon of Vishnu: “May the snakes become my food!” Vishnu granted him this boon. Now Indra, king of the gods, listened to the conversation, and when the griffin, by his mighty prowess, had obtained the drink of immortality, he said to him: “O griffin, take steps to prevent the foolish snakes from consuming the drink of immortality, and to enable me to take it away from them again.” The griffin agreed, and elated by the boon of Vishnu, he went to the snakes with the vessel containing the drink of immortality.

And he called out from afar to the snakes: “To you have I brought the drink of immortality. Take it, and release my mother. But if you are afraid, I will put it on a bed of darbha-grass. So soon as my mother is released, I will go; therefore take the drink of immortality thence.” Now the snakes were terrified by reason of the boon which Vishnu had granted to the griffin, and at once agreed to the bargain. Then the griffin set on a bed of darbha-grass the vessel containing the drink of immortality, and the snakes released his mother from slavery, and the griffin departed with her.

But while the snakes, not suspicious of a ruse, were in the very act of taking the drink of immortality, Indra, king of the gods, suddenly swooped down, and confounding them with his mighty prowess, carried off the vessel containing the drink of immortality. Then the snakes in despair licked the bed of darbha-grass with their tongues, thinking that there might be so much as a drop of the drink of immortality spilt thereon; whereupon – wonderful to [302] relate! – their tongues became split, and they became double-tongued for nothing.

Thus did the snakes fail to obtain the drink of immortality. And straightway their enemy the griffin, relying on the boon which he had obtained from Vishṇu, swooped down on them and began to devour them. And this he did again and again. And he wrought such havoc among them that the snakes in Pātāla were nigh unto death from sheer fright, and their females miscarried, and the whole race of the snakes was nigh unto utter destruction. Then Vāsuki, king of the snakes, fearing that the whole race of the snakes would be rooted out, begged the griffin to relent, and made the following agreement with him: “O king of birds, every day, on the hill that rises out of the sand of the sea, I will send you a single snake to eat. But you must not commit the folly of entering Pātāla, for by destroying utterly the whole race of the snakes, you will only defeat your own purpose.” The griffin consented. So every day, on the hill that rises out of the sand of the sea, Vāsuki, king of the snakes, sends to the griffin, the king of the birds, a single snake to eat. And the griffin, the king of the birds, devours each day the snake which Vāsuki, king of the snakes, sends to him to eat. These heaps of bones are the bones of the snakes which the griffin has eaten, and which, gradually accumulating, have come to look like the peak of a mountain.

When Jīmūta-vāhana, the fairy-prince, embodiment of generosity and compassion towards all living beings, heard this story from the lips of his companion, he was pricked to the heart. And he said to his companion: “Of a truth, Vāsuki, king of the snakes, is to be pitied, for that, like a coward, he delivers with his own hand into the hands of his most bitter enemy the snakes that are his subjects. Since he has a thousand faces and a thousand mouths, why can he not say with one of his mouths to the griffin who is his enemy: ‘Eat me first, O griffin!’ ” Then did the noble-hearted Jīmūta-vāhana make the following Earnest Wish: “May I, by the sacrifice of my own body and blood, obtain Supreme Enlightenment!”

At that moment a servant summoned Jīmūta-vāhana’s companion to return home, and Jīmūta-vāhana, embodiment of generosity and compassion towards all living beings, was left alone. [303] And Jīmūta-vāhana roamed about alone, intent on carrying out the resolution which he had formed. And as he roamed about, he heard afar off a piteous sound of weeping. And drawing near, he beheld on a lofty slab of rock a youth of handsome appearance plunged in bitter grief. And by his side stood an officer of some monarch, as if he had brought him and left him there. And the youth was seeking to persuade an old woman who was weeping, to cease her weeping and return whence she had come.

And Jīmūta-vāhana stood and listened, melted with pity, eager to know who he might be, and she. And the old woman, over whelmed with the burden of her grief, began to look again and again at the youth, and to lament her misfortune in the following words: “Alas, Shankha-chūda! thou that wast obtained by me at the cost of a hundred bitter pangs! Alas, virtuous youth! Alas, son, only scion of our family, where shall I behold thee again? Bereft of thee, thy father will be plunged into the darkness of sorrow, and will not for long endure to live. That body of thine, which would suffer even from the torch of the sun’s rays, – how can it endure the agony of being devoured by the griffin? How comes it that Fate and the king of the snakes were able to discover thee, the only son of ill-starred me, though the world of the snakes is wide?” Thereupon the youth said: “Mother, I am afflicted enough as it is. Why do you afflict me more? Return to your home, I beg you. This is my last reverence to you. The griffin will soon be here.” When the old woman heard those words, she cast her sorrowful eyes all around the horizon, and cried aloud: “Alas, I am undone! Who will deliver my son from death?”

Then Jīmūta-vāhana with joy and delight went up to the old woman and said: “Mother, I will deliver your son!”

When the old woman heard those words, she was frightened and terrified, for she thought that the griffin had come. And straight way she cried out: “Eat me, O griffin! eat me!” Then said the youth her son: “Mother, be not afraid, for this is no griffin!” Then said Jīmūta-vāhana: “Mother, I am the prince of the fairies, disguised in the garb of a man. I am come to deliver your son from death. I will give my own body and blood to the hungry griffin. Therefore return to your home, and take your son with you.” But the old woman said: “By no means! for in a still higher sense you yourself are my very own son, since you have shown such [304] a measure of compassion to me and my son at this time.” Then said Jīmūta-vāhana: “I have formed a resolution, and you must not defeat my purpose.”

Then said the youth: “O thou of great and noble heart! I cannot consent to save my own body at the cost of thine. Should a common stone be saved by the sacrifice of a precious stone? The world is full of those who, like myself, pity only themselves. But few in number are those who entertain sentiments of compassion for the whole world and for all the living beings that are therein.” At that moment the trees began to sway with the wind of the wings of the griffin, and seemed to utter a cry of dissuasion. And the sea, churned by the wind, seemed with the eyes of its bright flashing jewels to be gazing in wonder and astonishment at the greatness of his courage and the depth of his compassion. Then came the griffin, hiding the heavens with his outspread wings. And swooping down, he smote the valiant hero Jīmūta-vāhana with his beak, and gripping him with his talons, carried him off from that slab of rock; and soaring aloft, flew quickly with him to a peak of the Malaya mountain, to eat him there. And Jīmūta-vāhana’s crest-jewel was torn from his head, and drops of blood fell from his body, as the griffin carried him through the air. And while the griffin was devouring his body and blood, he uttered the following Earnest Wish: “May my body and blood be offered thus in every state of my existence, and may I not obtain rebirth in heaven or deliverance from the round of existences if thereby I shall be deprived of the opportunity of doing good to my neighbor!”

But afterwards, through the finding of his crest-jewel, his kinsfolk and friends effected his deliverance from the power of the griffin, and a goddess sprinkled him with a potion, whereupon he arose more glorious than before, with all his limbs made whole again. And the goddess said to him: “My son, I am pleased with this sacrifice of thy body and blood. Therefore I sprinkle thee king of the fairies, and thy reign shall endure for a cycle of time.” Thereupon a rain of flowers fell from the sky, and the drums of the gods resounded with approbation. And the griffin repented of his evil deeds, and said: “From this day henceforth I will not again eat snakes. As for those which I have already eaten, let them return to life again!” Then – wonderful to relate! – all the snakes that he had previously eaten returned to life again. Then Jīmūta-vāhana [305] was escorted to the Himālaya, and was sprinkled king over all the kings of the fairies, and his reign endured for a cycle of time.

210. Jeweler, Monk, and Goose

“I am ready to sacrifice my body to preserve the life of this goose!”

Moreover, one should observe the Precepts strictly; it is better to renounce one’s life than to violate them.

From E. Huber, Açvaghosha’s Sūtrālaṁkāra, No. 63.

Thus have I heard: A monk was making his round for alms from door to door. He reached the house of a jeweler, and stopped before the door. At that moment the jeweler was preparing to pierce a pearl for the king. The color of the monk’s robe was reflected on the pearl, which thus took on a red color. The jeweler went into his house to seek food for the monk. At that moment a goose saw this pearl, red in color, similar in appearance to a piece of meat; immediately she swallowed it. Then the jeweler returned with the food and gave it to the monk. When he looked for the pearl, nowhere could he find it again. This pearl was of great value and belonged to the king. The jeweler, who was poor, and who had just lost the king’s precious pearl, addressed the monk excitedly and said to him: “Give me back the pearl!” Then the monk thus reflected: “This pearl has just been swallowed by a goose. If I say that to this man, he will kill the goose to get the pearl. I am in a very painful situation. What should I do to avert this calamity?” Then he uttered the following stanzas:

When the jeweler had heard these stanzas, he said to the monk: “Give me back my pearl! If you don’t give it back, I will make you endure many sufferings, and will show you no pity.” The monk replied to him: “Do you think I would remain silent, if I had stolen your pearl?” The jeweler said to him: “Nevertheless, there was no other person who would have been able to rob me of this pearl.” And immediately the jeweler closed his door and said to the monk: “You are mighty obstinate!” Then the monk turned his eyes in the four directions, but found a refuge nowhere, – like a stag taken in an enclosure, knowing no way to get out: thus was the monk, deprived of help. Then the monk tightened and adjusted his robes. This man said to the monk: “Are you getting ready to fight with me?” The monk replied to him: “I will not fight with you. I fight only with the Contaminations and the Bonds. What I have just done, was for a different reason: I fear that my body may be stripped naked when you strike me. For we monks, when we are about to endure sufferings, when our end is at hand, cover ourselves with our robes to prevent the stripping of our body.” And the monk uttered these stanzas further:

The Exalted One was full of modesty;
I am obedient to his teaching.

When I reach the termination of my life,
I wish not to have my body remain naked.

Then the jeweler said to the monk: “Have you not, then, the least concern for your life?” The monk replied to him: “The Law of us religious requires us to preserve our life until we have attained Deliverance. Even in the midst of the greatest dangers, it is necessary to protect your own life. But now I know in advance that I ought to abandon this body; and for this deed the congregation of those who have retired from the world will glorify my name.” Then he uttered these stanzas:

Then the jeweler said to the monk: “What you have just said is only sham and falsehood. You wish simply to win the praises of men.” The monk replied to him: “Then you believe me to be capable of staining myself with a falsehood? Pray, what good would these praises do me? I am not shamming when I say that I am joyful. I am not anxious to have men glorify my name, but I desire the Exalted One to know my devoted heart.” Then he uttered these stanzas:

Then the jeweler bound the monk and beat him with a stick. He asked the monk: “Where is the pearl? Give me back my pearl!” The monk replied to him: “I haven’t the pearl.” The jeweler began to weep, for his heart was full of remorse; and the fact that the pearl belonged to the king added yet more to his despair. The monk uttered these stanzas:

Alas! how poor this man is!
I know good and evil deeds.
His heart is filled with remorse.
Alas! this poor man
Does evil because he is poor.

Then the jeweler, shedding tears, prostrated himself on his face before the feet of the monk, and said to him: “Make me glad, and give me back my pearl. Then you will cease to suffer, and you will not make me suffer any more.” The monk replied: “I have not, in reality, taken it.” Then the jeweler said: “This monk is very [309] obstinate; notwithstanding his sufferings, he denies having the pearl.”

The jeweler, who was very poor, and who could not find his pearl, commenced once more, insane with anger, to beat [the monk]. The monk, who had his two hands and his neck bound, turned his eyes in the four directions; he saw no one whom he could call; death for him was inevitable. Then the monk said to himself: “In the round of existences, one is always in danger of such sufferings. One must stoutly refuse to violate the Precepts. For if one violates the Precepts, one is smitten with the punishments of hell, which are indeed more terrible than my present evils.” And he pronounced these stanzas:

At that moment the monk said to the jeweler: “Do not forget sentiments of pity! Oh, how I suffer!” Then the jeweler, weeping and sad, pronounced these stanzas:

The monk smiled feebly, and pronounced these stanzas:

Yes! my heart is full of covetousness,
But never have I desired this pearl.
Hearken to what I shall say to you:
What I covet is the good opinion
And the admiration of the sages;
What I covet is the Precepts
And the Law which procures final Deliverance.
The supreme object of my covetousness
Is the Way of the Deathless [Nirvāṇa].

Never has my heart desired your pearl.
I clothe myself with robes from a dust-heap,
I live on food received by way of alms,
I have established my residence under the trees:
All that suffices me.
What reason should I have
To make myself a thief?
Consider this well! [311]

The jeweler said to the monk: “What is the good of all these words?” Then he garroted him further, beat him with a stick, and bound him tight with cords. His eyes, his mouth, and his nose were bleeding.

At this moment the goose came back to drink his blood. The jeweler, furious, beat the goose to death. The monk said: “Is this goose quite dead?” The jeweler replied to him: “Why do you ask me whether the goose is dead or alive?” Then the monk turned towards the goose, and when he saw that she was dead, he wept and displayed no satisfaction. Then he uttered these stanzas:

The jeweler asked the monk: “What affection have you for this goose, that you are so greatly afflicted [by her death]?” The monk replied to him: “I am sad because I have been unable to fulfil my vow. I formed the resolution to give my life for that of the goose. Now that this goose is dead, I am unable to fulfil my vow.” The jeweler asked; “Why did you utter this vow?” The monk replied: “The Buddha, when he was still a Future Buddha, per mitted his hands and his feet to be mutilated, and did not spare himself when the salvation of living beings was involved. I wished to imitate him.” Then he uttered these stanzas:

The jeweler said: “I do not yet understand your words. Explain to me in detail your reason for so acting.” Then the monk replied to him with these stanzas: [312]

When the jeweler had heard these stanzas, he opened the belly of the goose and recovered his pearl. Then he lamented in a loud voice, and said to the monk: “To save the life of the goose, you have not spared your own! And thus you have caused me to act contrary to the Law.” Then he uttered these stanzas:

Then the jeweler joined his hands, addressed himself to the monk, and pronounced in a loud voice the following stanzas: [313]

When the jeweler had expressed his repentance, he permitted the monk to return to his residence.

211. Rūpāvatī

“Only that I might attain Supreme Enlightenment!”

Synopsis of Divyāvadāna 472, 473, 478.

In a previous state of existence the Future Buddha was reborn as a woman named Rūpāvatī. One day Rūpāvatī came upon a starving woman who was about to devour her new-born child, whereupon she cut off her own breasts and gave them to the woman for food. When her husband learned of her act, he performed the following Act of Truth: “If it be true that so wonderful and marvelous thing has never been seen before or heard of before, then may your breasts be restored.” Straightway her breasts were restored.

Indra, fearing that by the merit of her sacrifice Rūpāvatī might thrust him from his seat, went in disguise to Rūpāvatī and asked her: “Is it true that you sacrificed your breasts for the sake of a child?” “It is true.” “Did you not, either in the act, or after the act, regret so doing?” “No.” “Who will believe you?” Rūpāvatī replied: “Then I will make an Act of Truth:

“‘If it be true that neither in the act nor after the act had I any feeling of remorse or regret; if it be true that I acted, not for the sake of dominion, not for the sake of heaven, not that I might become an Indra or a Universal Monarch, but solely and [314] only that I might attain Supreme Enlightenment: thereby to subdue the unsubdued, to emancipate the unemancipated, to console the unconsoled, to enable them that have attained not Nirvana to attain unto Nirvana; – if all this be true, then may I cease to be a woman and become a man.’ ” Straightway she ceased to be a woman and became a man, Rūpāvatī.

Reborn as the Brahman Chandra-prabha, the Future Buddha one day came upon a starving tigress about to devour her young. He thereupon resolved to give his own body and blood to the tigress for food. So calling upon the deities of various ranks to witness, he announced his intention of making the highest and most sublime of all sacrifices; namely, the sacrifice of his own body and blood. Then, making an Act of Truth in terms identical with the preceding, he drew his sword, cut his own throat, and flung his body to the tigress.

212. King Shibi and the Bird

“Thou alone, my Heart, art called to be the Saviour of All!”

From E. Huber, Açvaghosha’s Sūtrālaṁkāra, No. 64.

Moreover: It is difficult to obtain the privilege of hearing the Law of the Buddha. In times past, when the Tathāgata was yet a Future Buddha, he spared not his life when it was a matter of finding the Law. Accordingly, one should listen to the Law with heart full of zeal.

I have heard related the parable of the pigeon:

There was an heretical teacher who expounded his false doctrine to Indra [king of the gods]. This heretical teacher, destitute of true knowledge, pretended to possess omniscience, and denied the existence of a being possessed of Perfect and Supreme Enlightenment. When Indra heard these words, he experienced displeasure, and became very sad. Then Indra proceeded to explore the universe, to discover whether there was an ascetic who had arrived at omniscience, at the end of his desires, – even as it is said in the stanzas of the Sūtras of the Questions of Indra :

Vishva-karman [Vulcan] said to Indra: “A denizen of heaven should not give himself over to sadness. In the world of men, in the kingdom of Kushinagara, dwells a king named Shibi. He devotes himself with zeal to macerations and to the quest of Supreme Enlightenment. Men of intelligence who have watched him, believe that this king will presently attain the condition of a Buddha. Let us approach him!” Indra replied: “Is it perfectly certain that he will not be shaken in his resolution?” Then he uttered these stanzas:

Vishva-karman said: “Let us make a journey and find out for ourselves. If, in reality, he has formed an unshakable resolution, we will pay our respects to him.”

Then Indra, with the intention of sounding the heart of the Future Buddha, changed himself into a hawk, and said to Vishva-karman: “Change yourself into a pigeon!” Immediately Vishva-karman changed himself into a pigeon with a body as blue as the sky and eyes like red pearls, and took his place near Indra. At this moment Indra, filled with pity, said to Vishva-karman: “Why do we seek to increase the troubles of the Future Buddha? We shall cause the king of the Shibis to endure sufferings; it is true that he will suffer. But when one is selecting a precious jewel, one examines it repeatedly in order to make sure that it is not artificial. The way [316] to examine a jewel is to cut it, to break it, to expose it to the fire, and to strike it; then alone does one know whether it is not artificial.”

Then the pigeon, pursued by the hawk, displayed great fear, and in the presence of a great crowd, came and sought refuge under the arm-pit of the king of the Shibis. The pigeon had the blue color of a lotus-leaf, and his brightness shone like a rain-bow in the midst of a dark cloud; he gleamed with pure lustre. Thereat all the people were filled with wonderment, and uttered these stanzas:

The king heard the words of the hawk, and saw the fright of the pigeon. Straightway he pronounced these stanzas:

Then the great king, in order to reassure the pigeon, uttered these stanzas further:

Then the hawk said again to the king: “Great king! Deign to release the pigeon, for he is my food!” The king replied to the hawk: “Long ago I conceived pity towards all living beings, and I owe them all the assistance and protection I can give them.” The hawk asked the king: “Why did you conceive long ago [pity towards all living beings]?” The king replied to him by pronouncing these stanzas:

When I uttered the vow to attain Enlightenment,
I granted my protection
To all living beings:
All shall win my profound compassion.

The hawk replied with these stanzas:

If your words are true,
Give me back the pigeon quickly;

For if you make me die of hunger,
You show no more compassion.

When the king had heard that, he reflected thus: “I am in an extremely difficult position. What expedient ought I to employ?” Having thus thought, he replied to the hawk and said: “Then you have no other meat to sustain your life?” The hawk replied to the king: “I can sustain my life only with fresh flesh and with blood.” Then the king said to himself: “What means ought I to employ?” Then he pronounced these stanzas:

Towards all creatures
I have always shown profound compassion.

Blood and fresh flesh
Cannot be obtained without committing murder.

Having thus reflected, he found that it would be very easy to give his own flesh to feed the hawk. And he pronounced these stanzas further:

I will cut a piece of my own flesh
And give it to the hawk. [318]

Even if it becomes my duty to sacrifice myself,
It is incumbent on me to protect the life of this frightened being.

When the great king had pronounced these verses, he said to the hawk: “Will my flesh be proper food for you?” The hawk said: “Yes! let the king deign to cut out of his body a piece of flesh equal [in weight] to that of the pigeon! Let him give it to me, and I will eat it.” When the great king had heard these words, he became joyful. He ordered a servant: “Bring quickly a pair of scales! I am going to cut a piece of my flesh to redeem this pigeon. It is a fortunate day for me to-day! And why is it a fortunate day?” He uttered these stanzas:

This flesh is the seat of old age and of maladies,
Of numerous perils and of disgusting substances.

It is fitting that for the good of the Law
I sacrifice this flesh, vile and corrupt.

In the meantime the king’s servant had executed the order, and brought a pair of scales. When the king saw the pair of scales coming, he showed no feeling. Immediately he bared the white flesh of his thigh, smooth as a tala-leaf. He called the servant and recited these stanzas to him:

At this moment the servant’s eyes were filled with tears. Joining the palms of his hands, he spoke thus: “Have mercy on me! I cannot do it! I have always received good things from the king. How could I, with a knife, cut a piece of flesh from the thigh of the king?” He uttered these stanzas:

The king is the saviour and protector of all.
If I cut the flesh of the king,
Certainly, I myself, with the knife,
Should be overwhelmed, and should fall to the earth. [319]

Then the great king took the knife in his own hand to cut the flesh from his thigh. The ministers and the great dignitaries, lamenting and weeping, made remonstrances to him without being able to stop him. All the inhabitants of the city pressed close to him. But he heard them not, and cut the flesh from his thigh. Those who were near him, turned their eyes away and dared not look. The Brahmans turned their eyes away and dared not look. The women of the palace uttered cries and wept. The deities, the dragons, the demons, the heavenly minstrels, the spirits, the fairies, and the great serpents said to each other throughout space: “It is not probable that the like of this deed has ever been done before.” The king had a body that was feeble and tender. Born and reared at the palace, he had never been able to endure any pain. Now his body was tortured with pains, and he suffered intensely. But he exhorted himself, and pronounced these stanzas:

Then Indra reflected thus: “Will the great king preserve his constancy in the midst of the greatest sufferings?” And desiring to put him to the test, he said: “You have just endured sufferings difficult to endure. Why do you not stop torturing yourself? You have suffered enough. Leave off, and release the pigeon!” The Future Buddha smiled feebly, and replied to him: “Never will sufferings make me break my word. Even if I am destined to suffer yet more, I will not flinch. These insignificant sufferings cannot be compared with the sufferings of hell. Therefore it is incumbent upon me that I lift up my thought, and that even in the midst of [320] these sufferings I increase my compassion [for living beings].” When he had made this reflection, he pronounced these stanzas:

Then Indra made this further reflection: “What the great king has just done, is not yet sufficiently painful. Will he preserve his constancy if I cause him to increase his sufferings? I will put him to the test!” Having made this reflection, he preserved silence and left off speaking.

In the meantime the great king had taken the piece of flesh which he had cut, and had placed it on one pan of the scales; he placed the pigeon on the other pan. It so happened that the pigeon made the scales tip. Then the king cut the two pi and placed this flesh in the scales. But it was still lighter than the pigeon. At this the great king was much surprised, and failed to understand what was the cause. Immediately he arose to place himself in the scales.

At this moment the hawk asked him: “Why do you fidget? Are you beginning to have regrets?” The great king replied to him: “I regret nothing. I wish to place myself whole and entire in the scales to save this pigeon.” When the great king was on the point of ascending the scales, his face remained calm. The servants and the assistants dared look no more; all the members of his entourage turned their eyes away.

At this moment the king said: “Look freely!” He cut off all of his flesh. There remained no more anything but his bones and his joints. He was like a statue, which, when exposed to the rain, becomes dismembered and difficult to recognize. [321]

Then cried aloud the great king as follows:

“If I sacrifice my body, it is not to obtain treasures, nor for pleasure, nor for love of my wife and my children and my kinsfolk. What I covet is enlightenment, that thereby I may be able to procure salvation for all living beings!”

Then he pronounced these stanzas:

At the instant when the great king, sacrificing his body, ascended the scales, the great earth trembled six times, like a blade of grass or a leaf, agitated in all the directions. In the sky, the deities expressed their wonderment at this extraordinary spectacle, and cried out: “Bravo! bravo! Thou dost deserve to be called zealous and of resolution unshakable.”

And the great king uttered these stanzas:

At this moment the hawk expressed his wonderment at the sight of this extraordinary act: “His resolution is firm and sincere; he will soon become a Buddha; all living beings will put their confidence in him.” Then Indra showed himself to the king under his true form, and told Vishva-karman to resume his true form also. And he added: “Let us pay him our respects! For this Future Buddha is imbued with resolution firm and unshakable, like Mount Sumeru, which lies in mid-ocean without ever being shaken. Such is the heart of this Future Buddha.” Then he added these stanzas: [322]

Vishva-karman then addressed himself to Indra and said: “The great king has shown his compassion for all living beings. His body should be restored as it was before. May all living beings be able to seek after Enlightenment without faltering [as the king has done]!” Then Indra asked the king: “Had you no regret over sacrificing yourself for a pigeon?” The king replied to him with these stanzas:

Indra said to the king: “Such words are difficult to believe. Never has an act equal to it been seen. Who could give credence to it?” The great king replied: “I know myself. Were there in the world a great sage capable of fathoming my heart, he would see that it is pure and without duplicity.” Indra replied: “You have spoken the truth.” At this moment the great king made this declaration: “If I have no regret [for having done what I have just done], may my body become once more as it was before!” And the king surveyed his mutilated body and uttered these stanzas:

When the great king had pronounced these stanzas, his mutilated body was transformed, and became as it was before. Here follow the stanzas:

Then Indra and Vishva-karman paid their respects to the Future Buddha, and returned in their heavenly mansions.

C. On the Sacrifice of the Eyes

“Here is your eye! take it!”

213. King Sivi and the Blind Beggar

“Should any man name my eyes, I will pluck them out and give them to him!”

Synopsis of Jātaka 499: iv. 401-412.

King Sivi, who is already noted for his generosity, one day makes a vow that should any one beg of him, not something outside of him, but part of his very self, whether heart, flesh, blood, or eyes, he will give it to him.

“Should any man name the flesh of my heart, I will smite my breast with a spear, and like as if I were pulling up out of the clear water a lily, stalk and all, so will I draw forth my heart, dripping drops of blood, and give it to him. Should he name the flesh of my body, like as if I were graving with a graving tool, so I will remove the flesh of my body and give it to him. Should he name my blood, I will give him my blood, either dropping it into his mouth, or filling therewith a bowl held underneath. Should he say: ‘My household work is at a standstill; do the work of a [325] slave in my house!’ I will lay aside my royal garments, stand outside, and proclaiming myself a slave, do the work of a slave. Should any man name my eyes, like as if I were removing the meat of a date-palm, so I will pluck out my eyes and give them to him.”

Whatever human gift there be that yet I have not given,
Though one should ask my very eyes, I’ll give them unafraid.

Sakka, king of the gods, hears his vow, disguises himself as a
blind beggar, and asks him for one of his eyes. Sivi forthwith gives
him both.

“Dearer to me than this eye is the Eye of Omniscience!”

Afterwards, becoming depressed, he longs for death. Sakka tells him to make an Act of Truth with reference to his gift, assuring him that if he will do so, his eyes will be restored. Sivi thereupon makes the following Act of Truth: “Whatsoever sort or kind of beggar comes to me, is dear to my heart. If this be true, let one of my eyes be restored.” Immediately one of his eyes is restored. To restore the other eye, he recites the following: “A Brahman came to me and asked me for one of my eyes; unto him gave I two. Great joy and delight filled me. If this be true, let my other eye be restored.” Immediately his other eye is restored.

214. Subhā of Jīvaka’s Mango Grove

“Here is your eye! take it!”

A. Prose version. Therī-gāthā Commentary No. 71.

In the Division of Thirty Stanzas of the Book of the Stanzas of the Nuns, the stanzas beginning with the words To Jīvaka’s charming Mango Grove are the stanzas of the nun Subhā, of Jīvaka’s Mango Grove.

She also, having made her Earnest Wish under previous Buddhas, developed Capacity for Sainthood and accumulated Merit in this state of existence and in that, and in due course having stimulated the Roots of Merit, having perfected the Conditions of Deliverance, with Knowledge fully ripe, was reborn in the [326] dispensation of this present Buddha at Rājagaha in the household of a wealthy Brahman.

Subhā, or Beauty, was her name. Endowed with beauty, they say, were the members of her body. Therefore, appropriately enough, she was given the name Subhā, or Beauty.

When the Teacher entered Rājagaha, she received the gift of faith and became a lay disciple. Later on, terrified by the Round of Existences, seeing in the Pleasures of Sense danger, perceiving in Renunciation of the Pleasures of Sense security, she retired from the world and became a nun under Mahā Pajāpatī Gotamī, and performing the business of Insight, in but a few days became established in the Fruit of the Third Path.

Now one day a certain resident of Rājagaha, an unprincipled fellow, young, in the prime of youth, saw her going to Jīvaka’s Mango Grove for her noonday siesta. Seeing her, he fell in love with her, and barring the way, invited her to enjoy the pleasures of sense. She preached the Doctrine to him, in divers ways making known the folly of the pleasures of sense, and her own determination to renounce the same. But even after hearing her discourse on the Doctrine, he would not leave her, but continued to importune her.

The nun, seeing that he paid no attention to what she said, and observing that he was fascinated with her eye, said: “Here is your eye! take it!” So saying, she plucked out one of her own eyes and handed it to him. Thereat that man was affrighted and terrified; for that nun his passion abated. Begging her to pardon him, he went his way. The nun went to the Teacher. The moment she looked upon him, her eye was restored to its former state. Thereat, as she stood there, her whole body was suffused with Joy in the Buddha.

The Teacher, knowing the course of her thoughts, preached the Doctrine to her; and that she might attain the Highest Path, assigned to her a Subject of Meditation. Suppressing Joy, she immediately developed Insight and attained Sainthood together with the Analytical Powers. And having attained Sainthood, she dwelt in the Bliss of the Fruit thereof, in the Bliss of Nibbāna. And surveying her own Attainment, by way of Solemn Utterance, she recited the following stanzas, previously uttered by her in conversation with that unprincipled fellow: [327]

B. Poetical version. Therī-gāthā 366-399.

366. To Jīvaka’s charming Mango Grove went the nun Subhā.
An unprincipled fellow barred the way. To him spoke Subhā:

Subhā:

Libertine:

Subhā:

Libertine:

Subhā:

215. The Prince-Ascetic

“Behold this, such as it is! take it, if you like!”

Kathāsaritsāgara vi. 28. 18-25.

To illustrate: In times past there lived a prince free from attachment for the things of earth. Youthful though he was, well-liking though he was, he adopted the life of a wandering ascetic.

One day this mendicant entered the house of a certain merchant. The young wife of the merchant, her eyes as long as the leaves of a lotus, saw him.

Her heart captivated by the beauty of his eyes, she addressed him: “How came such a man as you to take upon yourself this austere vow?

“Happy that woman who is gazed upon by these eyes of yours!” Thus addressed by that woman, that mendicant tore out one eye, [331] And having placed it in his hand, said: “Mother, behold this, such as it is! Take this loathsome gore and flesh, if you like!

“And the second is exactly like the first. Tell me, what is there delightful about these two eyes?” Thus addressed by him, seeing that, that merchant’s wife became depressed

And said: “Alas! alas! An evil deed have I wrought, wretched woman that I am, in that I have caused you to tear out your eyes!”

Hearing this, the mendicant said: “Woman, be not distressed, for you have done me a service... by causing me to uproot my eyes, you have increased my self-mortification.”

Thus spoke that self-controlled mendicant to that merchant’s wife bent low before him; indifferent to his own body, well-liking though it was, he went to perfection.

216. Prince Kunāla

“Plucked out, the eye of flesh; but gained, the Eye of Knowledge!”

Divyāvadāna 406.

Kunāla, son of King Açoka, is famed throughout India for the beauty of his eyes. His stepmother falls in love with him, makes advances to him, and is repulsed. In revenge she forges an order in the name of the king, commanding that his eyes be put out. The order is carried out. Kunāla exclaims: “Plucked out, the eye of flesh; but gained, the Eye of Knowledge!”

Subsequently the king discovers the crime, fixes the guilt on his queen-consort, and in the presence of Kunāla, threatens her with the direst punishments. Kunāla begs his father not to harm the queen, extols the virtues of kindness, compassion, and forbearance, declares that in spite of the cruel suffering he has endured, pain has not stained him nor anger heated him, and concludes with the following Act of Truth: “If it be true that I have ever been kindly disposed to my mother, if it be true that I myself tore out my eyes, then may my eyes be restored!” Straightway his eyes are restored, yet more beautiful even than before. [332]

217. St. Brigid of Kildare

Dearer the Eye of the Soul than the eye of the body
“Lo, here for thee is thy beautiful eye!”

The Sacrifice of an Eye appears for the first time in the Legends of St. Brigid in the fifteenth century.

A. Medieval Latin versions.
Acta Sanctorum, 4. Feb. 1, 119 a, 121 b.

The principal Medieval Latin versions are as follows:

St. Brigid, God-fearing virgin, seeing that the time of her betrothal was at hand, asked the Lord to send some deformity upon her, and that at any rate in this manner she might escape the importunity of her suitors. Then one of her eyes burst and dissolved in her head.

Not long afterwards came a certain nobleman to Dubthach to ask for his daughter in marriage, and this pleased her father and brothers. But Brigid refused him. And when they sternly insisted that she should marry the man, she asked the Lord to inflict some deformity on her body, so that men would cease to seek after her. Then one of her eyes burst and dissolved in her head. She, however, chose rather to lose the eye of the body than the Eye of the Soul, and loved beauty of soul more than beauty of body. But when her father saw this, he permitted her to take the veil; and the moment she took the veil, her eye was restored and she was made whole.

B. Middle Irish version.
From W. Stokes, Three Middle-Irish Homilies 64-65.

In the Lebar Brecc, a Middle Irish MS. of the fifteenth century, the following episode appears for the first time:

Shortly after that came a certain nobleman unto Dubthach to ask for his daughter. Dubthach and his sons were willing, but Brigid refused. Said a brother of her brethren named Beccán unto her: “Idle is the fair eye that is in thy head not to be on a pillow near a husband.” “The Son of the Virgin knoweth,” says Brigid; it is not lively for us if it brings harm upon us.” Then Brigid [333] put her finger under her eye, and drew it out of her head so that it was on her cheek; and she said: “Lo, here for thee is thy beautiful eye, O Beccán!” Then his eye burst forthwith. When Dubthach and her brethren beheld that, they promised that she should never be told to go unto a husband. Then she put her palm to her eye and it was quite whole at once. But Beccán’s eye was not whole till his death.

218. St. Lucy of Syracuse

“Here hast thou what thou hast desired! leave me in peace!”

From Mrs. Jameson’s Sacred and Legendary Art ii. 615-617.

In the older legends of St. Lucy we are told that while she was praying at the tomb of St. Agatha for the restoration of her mother’s health, St. Agatha appeared to her in a vision and said to her: “Well art thou called Lucy, who art indeed a light and a mirror to the faithful! What dost thou ask of me which shall not be granted to thine own faith and sanctity? Behold! thy mother is from this hour healed!” St. Lucy thereupon resolved to adopt the religious life, and sold all of her goods and gave to the poor. When the youth to whom she was betrothed saw this, he was enraged, and went and denounced her to the governor Pascasius as being a Christian. Pascasius ordered her to be brought before him, and commanded her to sacrifice to his idols. When she refused, he ordered her to be taken to a brothel and treated as a harlot. But when the governor’s men tried to drag her away, she became rooted to the spot, and neither men and oxen nor magicians and enchanters were able to move her from the spot. Then Pascasius ordered her to be burnt alive, but the fire would not touch her. Finally one of his servants pierced her throat with a dagger.

The medieval legend is as follows:

In the city wherein the blessed Lucy dwelt, there dwelt also a youth who, having once beheld her, became enamored of her beauty, and by messages and promises and gifts, he ceased not to woo her; but Lucy, being a Christian and fearing God, resisted all these attacks on her virtue. Now this youth, in his letters and his tender speeches, was accustomed to protest that it was the brightness of her eyes which inflamed him, and that it was for the sake of those beautiful eyes he pursued her, leaving her no rest, because those eyes left him no rest, by day or by night. Lucy, considering these things, and calling to mind the words [334] of Christ, “If thine eye offend thee, pluck it out, and cast it from thee,” and fearing lest her eyes should be the cause of damnation to the young man, and perhaps also to herself, called for a knife and took out her beautiful eyes, and sent them to her lover in a dish, with these words: “Here hast thou what thou hast so much desired; and for the rest, I beseech thee, leave me now in peace.” Whereat the young man, being utterly astonished and full of grief and remorse, not only ceased his pursuit, but became also a convert of Christ, and lived ever afterwards an example of virtue and chastity.

But God would not suffer that the blessed Lucy, having given this proof of her courage and piety, should remain blind: for one day, as she knelt in prayer, behold! her eyes were restored to her more beautiful than before. And if any one doubts of this great miracle, let him consult the writings of that learned and praise worthy man Filippo Bergomense, and also of that famous Spaniard Don Juan Maldonato, where they will find it all set down as I have related. And this is the reason that St. Lucy is invoked against blindness and all diseases of the eyes, and that in her effigy she is represented bearing two eyes in a dish.

219. St. Lucy of Alexandria

And seizing her spindle, she bit, and gouged out her two eyes.

John Moschus, Spiritual Meadow,
615 A. D. Patrologia Graeca 87. 3. 2911-4.

When we were in Alexandria, the lover of Christ related to us a story to the following effect: – A certain nun, – said he, – used to sit in her own house, aloof from the world, solicitous for her own soul, constant in fastings and supplications and watchings, generous in almsgiving. But the Devil, ever at enmity with mankind, intolerant of such virtues, stirred up the dust against her. For he excited in a certain youth a satanic longing for her. Now the youth was wont to wait outside the house. When, therefore, the nun desired to go out, and to depart from her own house to the house of prayer in order to pray, the youth would not permit her, but would importune and annoy her, as is the wont of the amorous, so that finally the nun was forced by the importunity of the youth not to leave her own house. On a certain day, therefore, the nun [335] sent her maid-servant to the youth, saying: “Come, my mistress wishes you!” So the youth departed to her, rejoicing to think that he had attained his own purpose. Now the nun was sitting at her loom. Accordingly, she said to the youth: “Be seated.” And having seated him, she said to him: “Tell me honestly, good brother, – why is it that you thus annoy me, and do not permit me to leave my house?” The youth replied, saying: “To tell you the truth, mistress, – I am deeply in love with you, and whenever I see you, I am all afire.” And she said to him: “But what that is beautiful did you see in me, that you have such an affection for me?” And the youth said: “Your eyes! for it is even they that have led me astray.” Now when the nun heard that it was her eyes that had led the youth astray, she seized her spindle, and bit, and gouged out her two eyes. And when the youth saw this, that by reason of him the nun had gouged out her two eyes, he was pricked to the heart, and departing for Scythia, became, himself also, an excellent monk.

220. King (Richard of England) and Nun

“Behold the eyes that thou desirest! take them, and leave me in peace!”

Lost, the eyes of the flesh; but kept, the Eyes of the Spirit.

Jacques de Vitry, Exemplum 57.

I have heard a story about a certain consecrated virgin, that by reason of her beauty, a certain powerful and wealthy prince, in whose land a monastery had been founded, fell deeply in love with her at first sight; and that, unable to win her, either by entreaties or gifts, he sent men to take her by force and remove her from the monastery. But she, trembling and sorrowful, inquired of the bystanders why he seized her rather than some other inmate of the monastery. They replied that it was because she had such beautiful eyes. “Yonder ruler beheld them; this is the reason why he desires to obtain thee.” When she heard this, she rejoiced above measure. And immediately she plucked out her own eyes and said: “Behold the eyes that he desires! Take them to him, and tell him to leave me in peace, and not to rob me of my soul!” And thus she lost the eyes of the flesh, but kept the Eyes of the Spirit. [336]

 

last updated: March 2016