“Here he suffers, after death he suffers,” {1.133} this Dhamma teaching was given by the Teacher while in residence at Jetavana with reference to Devadatta.

The story of Devadatta, from the time he went forth to the time the earth opened and swallowed him up, is related in detail in all the Birth Stories. The following is a synopsis of the story:

12a The Six Princes Go Forth

While the Teacher was in residence at Anupiya Mango Grove, which lies near Anupiya, a market-town of the Mallas, 80,000 [28.231] kinsmen one day recognized on him the characteristics of a Realised One, and 80,000 relatives asserted: “Let him be a king or a Buddha, he will spend his days surrounded by a retinue of nobles.” After all but six of these youths had gone forth and become bhikkhus, the company of princes, observing that the six Sakyan princes, King Bhaddiya, Anuruddha, Ānanda, Bhagu, Kimbila, and Devadatta, had not yet gone forth, discussed the matter as follows: “We let only our own sons go forth. But of course these six Sakyan princes are not kinsmen of the Buddha. For this reason, doubtless, they have not gone forth.” Now one day the Sakyan prince Mahānāma approached Anuruddha and said: “Friend, there isn’t one of our family who has gone forth. You go forth and I will follow your example.”

Now Anuruddha is said to have been brought up in such softness and luxury that he had never heard the words No More (Natthi) before. For example, one day these six Sakyan princes engaged in a game of marbles. Anuruddha staked cakes on the result, proved a loser, and sent home for cakes. His mother prepared cakes and sent them. {1.134} The princes ate the cakes and resumed their play.

Anuruddha lost repeatedly. Three times in all his mother sent him cakes. The fourth time she sent back word: “There is no more cake to send. Now Anuruddha had never before heard the words No More. Therefore, supposing that this must be a variety of cake, he sent the man back, saying to him: “Fetch me some No More cakes.” When his mother received the message: “Then, my lady, send me some No More cakes,” she thought to herself: “My son has never heard the words No More before. By this means, however, I can teach him the meaning of it.” So she took an empty golden bowl, covered it with another golden bowl, and sent it to her son.

The guardian Devatās of the city thought: “When Anuruddha the Sakyan was Annabhāra, he gave food that was his own portion to the Paccekabuddha Upariṭṭha, making the aspiration: ‘May I never hear the words No More; may I never know where food comes from.’ Now if he sees the empty bowl, we shall never be able to enter the assembly of the Devas; it may even happen that our heads will split into seven pieces.” So they filled the bowl with celestial cakes. As soon as the bowl was set down on the round platter uncovered, the fragrance of the cakes permeated the entire city. Moreover, the moment a morsel of cake was placed in the mouth, it thrilled the seven thousand nerves of taste.

Anuruddha thought to himself: “My mother does not love me; all this time she has never fried this No More cake [28.232] for me. {1.135} From this time forth I shall eat no other kind of cake.” So he went home and asked his mother: “Mother, do you love me or do you not?” – “My dear son, even as the eye is dear to one who possesses but one eye, and even as the heart, so are you exceedingly dear to me.” – “Then, dear mother, why is it that all this time you have not fried No More cake for me?” Said the mother to her little prince: “Boy, is there nothing in the bowl?” – “My lady, the plate is filled to overflowing with cakes, and with such cakes as I have never seen before.”

The mother thought to herself: “It must be that my son has acquired great merit; it must be that he has made an aspiration; Devatās must have filled the plate with cakes and sent them.” Said the son to the mother: “Dear mother, from this time forth I will eat no other kind of cake than this; henceforth, I pray you, fry No More cake alone for me.” From that time forth, whenever her son said: “I should like some cakes to eat,” she would send a bowl absolutely empty, covered with another bowl. So long as he continued to live at home, during all that time Devatās sent him celestial cakes. Since Anuruddha was so unsophisticated as all this, how could he be expected to know the meaning of the expression going forth?

For this reason, therefore, he asked his brother: “What is this going forth?” His brother replied: “Going forth involves cutting off the hair and beard, sleeping with indifference whether in a thorn-brake or in a fine bed, and going the rounds for alms,” Anuruddha replied: “Friend, I am exceedingly delicate; I shall never be able {1.136} to go forth.” – “Very well, my dear brother, then learn farming and live the life of a householder. But at least one of us must go forth.” Then said Anuruddha: “What is this farming?”

How could you expect a youth to know the meaning of the word farming who did not know where food comes from? For example, on a certain day a discussion arose among the three princes Kimbila, Bhaddiya, and Anuruddha as to where food comes from. Kimbila said: “It comes from the barn.” Bhaddiya said to him: “You do not know where food comes from; it comes from a pot.” Anuruddha said: “Both of you together do not know where food comes from. It comes from a golden bowl with a jeweled knob.”

We are told that one day Kimbila saw rice being removed from a barn, and immediately formed the opinion: “These grains of rice were produced in the barn.” Likewise one day Bhaddiya saw food being taken out of a pot, and formed the opinion: “It was produced [28.233] in a pot.” Anuruddha, however, had never seen men pounding rice or boiling it or taking it out of a pot, but had seen it only after it had been taken out of a pot and set before him. So Anuruddha formed the opinion: “When one desires to eat, food makes its appearance in a golden bowl.” Such was the ignorance of all three princes as to where food comes from.

Now when Anuruddha asked the question: “What is this farming?” he received the following answer: “First the field must be plowed, and after that such and such other things must be done, and these things must be done year after year.” He said to himself: “When will the duties connected with farming ever come to an end? When shall we ever have time to enjoy our possessions in peace?” And because it seemed to him that the duties connected with farming would never come to an end and never cease, he said to his brother: “Well then, if this is the case, you may live the life of a householder. But as for me, I have no use for it.” Accordingly he approached his mother {1.137} and said to her: “Mother, give me your permission; I wish to go forth.”

Thrice Anuruddha requested his mother to give him permission to go forth, and thrice she refused to do so. Finally she said to him: “If your friend King Bhaddiya will go forth, then you may go forth with him.” Accordingly he approached his friend Bhaddiya and said to him: “Friend, whether I shall go forth or not is conditional upon your going forth.” Anuruddha urged his friend Bhaddiya with every argument at his command to go forth, and finally, on the seventh day, obtained Bhaddiya’s promise to go forth with him.

So six princes of the noble caste, Bhaddiya, King of the Sakyans, Anuruddha, Ānanda, Bhagu, Kimbila, and Devadatta, accompanied by Upāli the barber as the seventh man, for seven days enjoyed celestial glory like gods, and then set out with fourfold array, as though on their way to a pleasure-garden. When they reached foreign territory, they turned back their army by royal command, and then entered foreign territory. There each of the six princes removed his own ornaments, made a bundle of them, and gave them to Upāli, saying: “Now, Upāli, turn back. All this wealth will suffice to provide you with a means of livelihood.” Upāli flung himself at their feet, rolled over and over on the ground, and wept bitterly. But not daring to disobey the order, he arose and turned back. When they parted, the forest wept, as it were, and the earth quaked, as it were. [28.234]

When Upāli had gone a little way, he thought to himself: “Harsh and cruel are these Sakyans; they may kill me, thinking I have killed their friends. These Sakyan princes have renounced all this splendor, have cast away these priceless ornaments like a mass of saliva, and intend to go forth; {1.138} why not I?” So saying, he untied the bundle, hung those ornaments on a tree, and said: “Let those who want them take them.” Having so done, he went to the Sakyan princes, and when they asked him why he had turned back, told them the whole story.

So the six Sakyan princes took Upāli the barber with them, went to the Teacher, and said to him: “We, venerable Sir, are proud Sakyans. This man has been a servitor of ours for a long time. Give him the going forth first; to him first we will offer respectful salutations; so will our pride be humbled.” Thus first did they cause Upāli the barber to go forth, and after that they went forth themselves.

Of the six Sakyan princes. Venerable Bhaddiya attained threefold knowledge in that very rainy season. Venerable Anuruddha attained divine eye, and after listening to the Discourse entitled: “The Discourse on the Great Reflections,” AJ: AN 8.30, Mahāvitakkasutta. attained Arahatship. Venerable Ānanda was established in the fruition of Stream-entry. Elder Bhagu and Elder Kimbila subsequently developed spiritual insight and attained Arahatship. Devadatta attained the lower grade of psychic power. AJ: i.e. he attained psychic power (iddhi), but not the paths and fruitions.

After a time, while the Teacher was in residence at Kosambī, rich gain and honor accrued to the Realised One and his company of disciples. Men entered the monastery bearing in their hands robes, medicines, and other offerings and asked: “Where is the Teacher? Where is the Elder Sāriputta? Where is the Elder Moggallāna? Where is the Elder Kassapa? Where is the Elder Bhaddiya? Where is the Elder Anuruddha? Where is the Elder Ānanda? Where is the Elder Bhagu? Where is the Elder Kimbila?” So saying, they went about looking at the places where the eighty Great Disciples sat.

12b Devadatta’s Wicked Deeds

Since no one asked: “Where does the Elder Devadatta sit and stand?” Devadatta thought to himself: “I went forth at the same time as these other bhikkhus. Even as they are men of the noble caste who have gone forth, so also am I a man of the noble caste who has gone forth. {1.139} But whereas men bearing rich [28.235] offerings seek out these bhikkhus, no one takes my name on his lips. With whom now can I make common cause? With whom can I ingratiate myself so that I may obtain gain and honor for myself?”

Then the following thought occurred to him: “This King Bimbisāra, on the day when he first saw the Buddha, became established in the fruition of Stream-entry, together with 110,000 men besides; I cannot make common cause with him. Neither can I make common cause with the king of Kosala. But this king’s son Ajātasattu knows no one’s good or bad qualities; I will make common cause with him.”

Accordingly Devadatta departed from Kosambī to Rājagaha, transformed himself into a youth, put four snakes on his hands and feet, put one snake about his neck, coiled one snake about his head as a cushion-rest, placed one snake on one shoulder, and thus arrayed in a girdle of snakes, he descended from the air and seated himself in Ajātasattu’s lap. Ajātasattu was frightened and said: “Who are you?” – “I am Devadatta.” In order to dispel Ajātasattu’s fear, Devadatta changed his form, stood before Ajātasattu wearing the robe of a bhikkhu and carrying a bowl, ingratiated himself with Ajātasattu, and obtained for himself gain and honor.

Overcome with the gain and honor he received, Devadatta thought to himself: “It is I who ought to be at the head of the assembly of bhikkhus.” Once having allowed this wicked thought to spring up in his breast, with the springing up of the wicked thought Devadatta lost the power to work miracles.

Now at this time the Teacher was teaching the Dhamma to the assembly at the Veḷuvana monastery, and the king was among the assembly. While the Fortunate One was teaching the Dhamma, Devadatta worshipped him, and then rising from his seat, extended his hands in an attitude of reverent salutation and said: “Venerable Sir, the Fortunate One is now worn out, stricken with years, and aged; let him live a pleasant life in this world, free from care. I will direct the Saṅgha of bhikkhus; commit the Saṅgha of bhikkhus to my hands.” {1.140}

The Teacher, instead of consenting to the arrangement suggested by Devadatta, refused his request and called him a lick-spittle. Therefore Devadatta was highly indignant, and now for the first time conceiving hatred towards the Teacher, departed. The Teacher had Devadatta suspended at Rājagaha.

Devadatta thought to himself: “Now I have been rejected by the ascetic Gotama; now I will make trouble for him.” With this thought in mind he approached Ajātasattu and said to him: “Youth, aforetime [28.236] men were long-lived, but now they are short-lived. This makes it probable that you, being a prince, will die soon. Well then! You kill your father and become king, and I will kill the Fortunate One and become Buddha.” So when Ajātasattu was established in his kingdom, Devadatta hired men to kill the Realised One. But the men he hired attained the fruition of Stream-entry and turned back.

Then Devadatta himself climbed Vulture’s Peak and said to himself: “I alone will deprive the ascetic Gotama of life.” So saying, he split off a piece of rock and hurled it down. But he succeeded only in drawing the Teacher’s blood. Failing in this way also to kill him, he next dispatched the elephant Nālāgiri against the Teacher. When the elephant approached, the Elder Ānanda offered his own life on behalf of the Teacher and stood in the breach. The Teacher subdued the elephant, and then departed from the city and went to the monastery.

After partaking of the offerings of food brought by countless thousands of lay disciples, he taught in due course to the residents of Rājagaha, 180 millions in number, and 84,000 living beings had comprehension of the Dhamma. Said the bhikkhus: “How noble is the venerable Ānanda! When so mighty an elephant approached, he offered his own life {1.141} and stood in front of the Teacher.” The Teacher, hearing the elder praised in this wise, said: “Bhikkhus, this is not the first time he has renounced his life for my sake; he did the same thing in a previous state of existence,” and in response to a request of the bhikkhus he related the Short Birth Story about the Goose, BG: Ja 533. the Long Birth Story about the Goose, BG: Ja 534. and the Birth Story about the Crab. BG: Ja 267.

Devadatta’s wickedness did not by any means become so notorious from his having compassed the king’s death nor from his hiring murderers to kill the Realised One nor from his splitting off the piece of rock, as it did from his letting loose the elephant Nālāgiri. For upon that, the people raised a tumult and said: “Devadatta alone had the king killed and hired murderers and cast down the rock. But now he has turned the elephant Nālāgiri loose. Behold what manner of wrongdoer the king has on his hands!” The king then, hearing the words of the populace, caused Devadatta’s five hundred cooking-vessels to be removed and did not thereafter minister to his wants. Likewise the citizens did not so much as offer food to him when he came to their houses.

When he had thus lost gains and honor, he determined to live by [28.237] deceit. Therefore he approached the Teacher and made the five demands. AJ: listed just below. But the Teacher rejected his demands, saying: “Enough, Devadatta! Whoever so desires, let him be a forest hermit.” – “Friends, whose words are the nobler, the words of the Realised One or the words which I myself have uttered? Very well, venerable Sir, all their life long bhikkhus should be forest-dwellers, beggars, wearers of rags from a dust-heap, living at the foot of a tree, eating neither fish nor flesh. Whosoever desires release from suffering, let him come with me.” So saying, Devadatta departed. {1.142}

Some bhikkhus who had but recently went forth and who possessed little intelligence, hearing his words, said: “Devadatta spoke fair; let us join him.” So they joined him. Thus Devadatta with his five hundred bhikkhus sought to persuade all manner of people, both hardened and believing, to accept the five points. And living by soliciting food from various families, he strove to create a schism in the Saṅgha.

The Fortunate One asked him: “Devadatta, is it true, as men say, that you are striving to create schism in the Saṅgha?” – “It is true,” replied Devadatta. The Teacher said: “Devadatta, it is a grievous thing to create a schism in the Saṅgha.” Continuing, the Teacher admonished him at length. But Devadatta paid no attention to the Teacher’s words.

He went forth, and seeing the venerable Elder Ānanda going his rounds for alms in Rājagaha, said to him: “Friend Ānanda, from this day forth I shall keep Observance Day and do Formal Acts of the Saṅgha apart from the Fortunate One.” The elder told the Fortunate One. When the Teacher realized the fact, he was filled with righteous indignation and said to himself: “Devadatta is doing that which will be of no profit to him in the worlds of the Devas and the world of humans; that which will cause him to be tormented in the Avīci hell.” And he reflected:

Dhp 163: Easily done are things not good,
unbeneficial for oneself,
but that which is beneficial
is exceedingly hard to do.

Having pronounced this verse, he then breathed forth the following exalted utterance: AJ: Ud 5.8.

Done with ease by the good is good,
good by the bad is done
only with great difficulty;
bad by the bad is done with ease,
bad by the Noble Ones is done
only with great difficulty.

On the Observance Day, as Devadatta sat on one side with his own retinue, he said: “Let whoever approves of these five points take a ticket.” [28.238] {1.143}

Five hundred Licchavi princes, novices having little gratitude, took tickets. Devadatta took these bhikkhus with him and went to Gayāsīsa. When the Teacher heard that he had gone there, he sent forth the two Chief Disciples to bring those bhikkhus back. The Chief Disciples went there, instructed the bhikkhus by performing miracles and wonders, caused them to drink the Deathless, and returned through the air, bringing them with them.

Said Kokālika: “Rise, brother Devadatta; Sāriputta and Moggallāna have carried off your bhikkhus. Do you not remember my saying to you: ‘Friend, trust not Sāriputta and Moggallāna?’” Said Devadatta: “Sāriputta and Moggallāna cherish wicked desires, are under the control of wicked desires.” As he spoke thus, he struck the center of his heart with his knee, and straightaway hot blood burst forth from his mouth.

When the bhikkhus saw venerable Sāriputta, surrounded by his retinue of bhikkhus, soaring through the air, they said: “Venerable Sir, when venerable Sāriputta went hence, he went with but single companion; but now he is returning resplendent with a great retinue.” The Teacher said: “Bhikkhus, it is not the first time this has happened; when my son was reborn in the form of an animal, then also did he return to me resplendent.” So saying, he recited the Birth Story about (the Deer Named) Lakkhaṇa: BG: Ja 11. AJ: the commentary included only the verse, I include the rest of the story here.

In the past in the city of Rājagaha in the kingdom of Magadha there ruled a certain king of Magadha, in whose days the Bodhisatta came to life as a stag. Growing up, he dwelt in the forest as the leader of a herd of a thousand deer. He had two young ones named Lakkhaṇa (Lucky) and Kāḷa (Unlucky). When he grew old, he handed his charge over to his two sons, placing five hundred deer under the care of each of them. And so now these two young stags were in charge of the herd.

Towards harvest-time in Magadha, when the crops stand thick in the fields, it is dangerous for the deer in the forests round. Anxious to kill the creatures that devour their crops, the peasants dig pitfalls, fix stakes, set stone-traps, and plant snares and other traps; so that many deer are slain.

Accordingly, when the Bodhisatta marked that it was crop-time, he sent for his two sons and said to them: “My children, it is now the time when crops stand thick in the fields, and many deer meet their death at this season. We who are old will make shift to stay in one spot; but you will retire each with your herd to the mountainous tracts in the forest and come back when the crops have been carried.” – “Very good,” said his two sons, and departed with their herds, as their father bade.

Now the men who live along the route, know quite well the times at which deer take to the hills and return thence. And lying in wait in hiding-places here and there along the route, they shoot and kill numbers of them. The dullard Kāḷa, ignorant of the times to travel and the times to halt, kept his deer on the march early and late, both at dawn and in the evening, approaching the very confines of the villages. And the peasants, in ambush or in the open, destroyed numbers of his herd. Having thus by his crass folly worked the destruction of all these, it was with a very few survivors that he reached the forest.

Lakkhaṇa on the other hand, being wise and astute and having skill in means, never so much as approached the confines of a village. He did not travel by day, or even in the dawn or evening. Only in the dead of night did he move; and the result was that he reached the forest without losing a single head of his deer.

Four months they stayed in the forest, not leaving the hills till the crops were carried. On the homeward way Kāḷa, by repeating his former folly, lost the rest of his herd and returned solitary and alone; whereas Lakkhaṇa had not lost one of his herd, but had brought back the whole five hundred deer, when he appeared before his parents. As he saw his two sons returning, the Bodhisatta framed this verse in concert with the herd of deer:

The virtuous one will prosper,
he whose way of life is friendly,
look at Lakkhaṇa approaching,
surrounded by his relatives,
then look at this Kāḷa, who has
completely lost his relatives. {1.144}

The bhikkhus said again: “Venerable Sir, they say that Devadatta seats a Chief Disciple on either side of him and imitates you, saying: ‘I will teach the Dhamma with the grace of a Buddha.’” The Teacher said: “Bhikkhus, this is not the first time he has so done; in a previous state of existence also he strove to imitate me, but was not able to do so. Supplying the rest of the story, the Teacher related the Birth Story about (the Hero Crow) Vīrika. BG: Ja 204. AJ: the commentary included only the verses, I include the rest of the story here.

In the past, while Brahmadatta reigned as king in Benares, the Bodhisatta became a cormorant, and dwelt by a certain pool. His name was Vīraka (Hero).

There arose a famine in Kāsi. Men could not spare food for the crows, nor make offerings to Yakkhas and Nāgas. One by one the crows left the famine-stricken land, and went to the woods.

A certain crow named Saviṭṭhaka, who lived at Benares, took with him his lady crow and went to the place where Vīraka lived, making his abode beside the same pool.

One day, this crow was seeking food about the pool. He saw how Vīraka went down into it, and made a meal off some fish; and afterwards came up out of the water again, and stood drying his feathers. “Under the wing of that crow,” he thought, “plenty of fish are to be got. I will become his servant.” So he drew near.

“What is it, sir?” asked Vīraka. “I want to be your servant, my lord!” was the reply.

Vīraka agreed, and from that time the other served him. And from that time, Vīraka used to eat enough fish to keep him alive, and the rest he gave to Saviṭṭhaka as soon as he had caught them; and when Saviṭṭhaka had eaten enough to keep him alive, he gave what was over to his wife.

After a while pride came into his heart. “This crow,” said he, “is black, and so am I: in eyes and beak and feet, too, there is no difference between us. I don’t want his fish; I will catch my own!” So he told Vīraka that for the future he intended to go down to the water and catch fish himself. Then Vīraka said: “Good friend, you do not belong to a tribe of such crows as are born to go into water and catch fish. Don’t destroy yourself!”

But in spite of this attempt to dissuade him, Saviṭṭhaka did not take the warning to heart. Down he went to the pool, down into the water; but he could not make his way through the weeds and come out again – there he was, entangled in the weeds, with only the tip of his beak appearing above the water. So not being able to breathe he perished there beneath the water.

His mate noticed that he did not return, and went to Vīraka to ask news of him. “My lord,” she asked, “Saviṭṭhaka is not to be seen, where is he?” And as she asked him this, she repeated the first verse:

Have you seen, O Vīraka,
the bird having a very sweet voice,
with a neck looking like a peacock’s,
my husband Saviṭṭhaka?

When Vīraka heard it, he replied, “Yes, I know where he is gone,” and recited the second verse:

That bird at home in water and on land,
who constantly enjoys fresh fish to eat:
through imitating him Saviṭṭhaka has died,
caught up amongst the lakeside weeds.

On succeeding days, with reference to the same subject, the Teacher related the Birth Story about (the Woodpecker) Kandagalaka BG: Ja 210. AJ: the commentary included only the verses, I include the rest of the story here.

In the past, when Brahmadatta was king of Benares, the Bodhisatta entered into life as a woodpecker. In a wood of acacia trees he lived, and his name was Khadiravaniya, the bird of the acacia wood. He had a comrade named Kandagalaka, who got his food in a wood full of good fruit.

One day the friend went to visit Khadiravaniya. “My friend is come!” thought Khadiravaniya; and he led him into the acacia wood, and pecked at the tree-trunks until the insects came out, which he gave to his friend. As each was given him, the friend pecked it up, and ate it, as if it were a honey cake. As he ate, pride arose in his heart. “This bird is a woodpecker,” he thought, “and so am I. What need for me to be fed by him? I will get my own food in this acacia wood!”

So he said to Khadiravaniya: “Friend, don’t trouble yourself – I will get my own food in the acacia wood.” Then said the other, “You belong to a tribe of birds which finds its food in a forest of pithless silk-cotton trees, and trees that bear abundant fruit; but the acacia is full of pith, and hard. Please do not do so!”

“What!” said Kandagalaka – am I not a woodpecker?” And he would not listen, but pecked at an acacia trunk. In a moment his beak snapped off, and his eyes bade fair to fall out of his head, and his head split. So not being able to hold fast to the tree, he fell to the ground, repeating the first verse:

Dear, what is that tree’s name,
with sweaty leaves and thorns,
where, with just one blow,
my cranium has been split?

Having heard this, Khadiravaniya recited the second verse:

Roaming around this, striking in the woods
on the pithless branches of useless trees,
then hitting a pithy acacia tree,
where the pecker shattered his cranium. {1.145}

and the Birth Story about Shining Forth: BG: Ja 143. AJ: the commentary included only the verse, I include the rest of the story here. [28.239]

In the past when Brahmadatta was reigning in Benares, the Bodhisatta was a maned lion and dwelt at Gold Den in the Himālayas. Bounding forth one day from his lair, he looked north and west, south and east, and roared aloud as he went in quest of prey. Slaying a large buffalo, he devoured the prime of the carcass, after which he went down to a pool, and having drunk his fill of crystal water turned to go towards his den.

Now a hungry jackal, suddenly meeting the lion, and being unable to make his escape, threw himself at the lion’s feet. Being asked what he wanted, the jackal replied: “Lord, let me be your servant.” – “Very well,” said the lion, “serve me and you shall feed on prime meat.” So saying, he went with the jackal following to Gold Den. Thenceforth the lion’s leavings fell to the jackal, and he grew fat.

Lying one day in his den, the lion told the jackal to scan the valleys from the mountain top, to see whether there were any elephants or horses or buffaloes about, or any other animals of which he, the jackal, was fond. If any such were in sight, the jackal was to report and say with due obeisance: “Shine forth in your might, Lord.” Then the lion promised to kill and eat, giving a part to the jackal. So the jackal used to climb the heights, and whenever he espied below beasts to his taste, he would report it to the lion, and falling at his feet, say: “Shine forth in your might, Lord.” Hereon the lion would nimbly bound forth and slay the beast, even if it were a rutting elephant, and share the prime of the carcass with the jackal. Glutted with his meal, the jackal would then retire to his den and sleep.

Now as time went on, the jackal grew bigger and bigger till be grew haughty. “Have not I too four legs?” he asked himself. “Why am I a pensioner day by day on others’ bounty? Henceforth I will kill elephants and other beasts, for my own eating. The lion, king of beasts, only kills them because of the formula: ‘Shine forth in your might, Lord.’ I’ll make the lion call out to me, ‘Shine forth in your might, jackal,’ and then I’ll kill an elephant for myself.”

Accordingly he went to the lion, and pointing out that he had long lived on what the lion had killed, told his desire to eat an elephant of his own killing, ending with a request to the lion to let him, the jackal, couch in the lion’s corner in Gold Den while the lion was to climb the mountain to look out for an elephant. The quarry found, he asked that the lion should come to him in the den and say: ‘Shine forth in [1.307] your might, jackal.’ He begged the lion not to grudge him this much.

Said the lion, “Jackal, only lions can kill elephants, nor has the world ever seen a jackal able to cope with them. Give up this fancy, and continue to feed on what I kill.” But say what the lion could, the jackal would not give way, and still pressed his request. So at last the lion gave way, and bidding the jackal couch in the den, climbed the peak and thence espied an elephant in rut. Returning to the mouth of the cave, he said: “Shine forth in your might, jackal.” Then from Gold Den the jackal nimbly bounded forth, looked around him on all four sides, and, thrice raising its howl, sprang at the elephant, meaning to fasten on its head. But missing his aim, he alighted at the elephant’s feet. The infuriated brute raised its right foot and crushed the jackal’s head, trampling the bones into powder. Then pounding the carcass into a mass, and dunging upon it, the elephant dashed trumpeting into the forest. Seeing all this, the Bodhisatta observed, “Now shine forth in your might, jackal,” and uttered this verse:

Your brains are split open,
and your head is smashed in,
all your ribs are broken,
today you did shine forth.

Again one day, hearing the remark: “Devadatta was ungrateful,” the Teacher related the Birth Story about the Quick Bird (and a Lion): BG: Ja 308. AJ: the commentary included only the verses, I include the rest of the story here.

In the past when Brahmadatta was reigning in Benares, the Bodhisatta came to life as a woodpecker in the Himālayas.

Now a certain lion, while devouring his prey, had a bone stick in his throat. His throat swelled up so that he could not take any food and severe pains set in. Then this woodpecker, while intent on seeking its own food, as it was perched on a bough, saw the lion and asked him, saying: “Friend, what ails you?” He told him what was the matter, and the bird said: “I would take the bone out of your throat, friend, but I dare not put my head into your mouth, for fear you should eat me up.” – “Do not be afraid, friend; I will not eat you up. Only save my life.”

“All right,” said the bird, and ordered the lion to lie down upon his side. Then it thought: “Who knows what this fellow will be about?” And to prevent his closing his mouth, it fixed a stick between his upper and lower jaw, and then putting its head into the lion’s mouth, it struck the end of the bone with its beak. The bone fell out and disappeared. And then the woodpecker drew out its head from the lion’s mouth, and with a blow from its beak knocked out the stick, and hopping off sat on the top of a bough.

The lion recovered from his sickness, and one day was devouring a wild buffalo which he had killed. Thought the woodpecker: “I will now put him to the test,” and perching on a bough above the lion’s head, it fell to conversing with him and uttered the first verse:

We have done our duty to you,
with whatever strength we had,
King of beasts we revere you,
may we receive something from you?

On hearing this the lion repeated the second verse:

I am one who feeds on blood,
I am forever cruel,
I hold you between my teeth,
it is much that you still live.

Again with reference to Devadatta’s going about for the purpose of slaying, he related the Birth Story about the Antelope: BG: Ja 21. AJ: the commentary included only the verse, I include the rest of the story here.

In the past when Brahmadatta was reigning in Benares, the Bodhisatta came to life as an antelope, and used to live on fruits in his haunts in the forest.

At one period he was subsisting on the fruit of a Sepaṇṇi tree. And there was a village hunter, whose method was to build a platform in trees at the foot of which he found the track of deer, and to watch aloft for their coming to eat the fruits of the trees. When the deer came, he brought them down with a javelin, and sold the flesh for a living.

This hunter one day marked the tracks of the Bodhisatta at the foot of the tree, and made himself a platform up in the boughs. Having breakfasted early, he went with his javelin into the forest and seated himself on his platform. The Bodhisatta, too, came abroad early to eat the fruit of that tree; but he was not in too great a hurry to approach it. “For,” thought he to himself, “sometimes these platform-building hunters build themselves platforms in the boughs. Can it be that this can have happened here?” And he halted some way off to reconnoitre.

Finding that the Bodhisatta did not approach, the hunter, still seated aloft on his platform, threw fruit down in front of the antelope. Said the latter to himself: “Here’s the fruit coming to meet me; I wonder if there is a hunter up there.” So he looked, and looked, till he caught sight of the hunter in the tree; but, feigning not to have seen the man, he shouted: “My worthy tree, hitherto you have been in the habit of letting your fruit fall straight to the ground like a pendant creeper; but today you have ceased to act like a tree. And therefore, as you have ceased to behave as becomes a tree, I too must change, and look for food beneath another tree.” And so saying, he repeated this verse:

For the antelope knows who it is drops
fruit from the Sepaṇṇi,
I will go to another Sepaṇṇi,
I do not like your fruit.

Again when the discussion took this turn: “Devadatta fell away both from gain and honor and from the ascetic life,” the Teacher said: “Bhikkhus, this is not the first time he has so fallen away; in a previous state of existence also he fell away.” So saying, he related the Birth Story about Falling Both Ways: BG: Ja 139. AJ: the commentary included only the verse, I include the rest of the story here. {1.146}

In the past when Brahmadatta was reigning in Benares, the Bodhisatta was born a Tree Devatā, and there was a certain village where fishermen dwelt in those days. And one of these fishermen taking his tackle went off with his little boy, and cast his hook into the most likely waters known to his fellow-fishermen. Now a snag caught his hook and the fisherman could not pull it up. “What a fine fish!” thought he. “I’d better send my boy off home to my wife and tell her to get up a quarrel and keep the others at home, so that there’ll be none to want to go shares in my prize.”

Accordingly he told the lad to run off home and tell his mother what a big fish he had hooked and how she was to engage the neighbours’ attention. Then, fearing his line might break, he flung off his coat and dashed into the water to secure his prize. But as he groped about for the fish, he struck against the snag and put out both his eyes. Moreover a robber stole his clothes from the bank. In an agony of pain, with his hands pressed to his blinded eyes, he clambered out trembling in every limb and tried to find his clothes.

Meantime his wife, to occupy the neighbours by a quarrel on purpose, had tricked herself out with a palm-leaf behind one ear, and had blacked one eye with soot from the saucepan. In this guise, nursing a dog, she came out to call on her neighbours. “Bless me, you’ve gone mad,” said one woman to her. “Not mad at all,” retorted the fisherman’s wife, “you abuse me without cause with your slanderous tongue. Come your ways with me to the village headman and I’ll have you fined eight pieces for slander.”

So with angry words they went off to the village headman. But when the matter was gone into, it was the fisherman’s wife who was fined; and she was tied up and beaten to make her pay the fine. Now when the Tree Devatā saw how misfortune had befallen both the wife in the village and the husband in the forest, he stood in the fork of his tree and exclaimed, “Ah, fisherman, both in the water and on land your labour is in vain, and twofold is your failure.” So saying he uttered this verse:

Eyes are blinded, and clothes are lost,
accusations in a friend’s house,
both of their doings are wicked,
in the water and on dry land.

In this wise did the Teacher, while he was in residence at Rājagaha, relate many Birth Stories about Devadatta. From Rājagaha he went to Sāvatthī, and took up his residence at Jetavana monastery.

Devadatta’s sickness continued for nine months; at the last, desiring to see the Teacher, he said to his own disciples: “I desire to see the Teacher; make it possible for me to see him.” They replied: “When you enjoyed good health, you walked at enmity with the Teacher; we will not lead you to him.” Said Devadatta: “Do not destroy me; I did indeed conceive hatred towards the Teacher, but the Teacher has not cherished so much as the tip of a hair’s hatred towards me.” And in very truth:

Towards the murderer Devadatta,
towards the robber Aṅgulimāla,
towards Dhanapāla and Rāhula,
towards all he had an even temper. [28.240]

“Let me see the Fortunate One,” begged Devadatta again and again; so finally they laid him on a litter and started out with him. When the bhikkhus heard that Devadatta was approaching, they informed the Teacher of the fact, saying: “Venerable Sir, we hear that Devadatta is coming to see you.” – “Bhikkhus, he will not succeed in seeing me in this present existence.” It is said that from the moment bhikkhus make the five demands, they invariably fail to see the Buddhas again. {1.147}

“Venerable Sir, he has reached such and such a place; he has reached such and such a place.” – “Let him do as he likes; he will never succeed in seeing me again.” – “Venerable Sir, now he is only a league distant, now he is only half a league distant, now he is only a few hundred metres distant, now he has reached the lotus-tank.” – “Even if he enters within the Jetavana, he will not succeed in seeing me.”

Those who came with Devadatta set the litter down on the bank of the lotus-tank at the Jetavana and descended into the tank to bathe. Devadatta arose from his litter and sat down, resting both feet on the ground, whereupon his feet sank into the earth. By degrees he sank into the earth, first to the ankles, then to the knees, then to the hips, then to the breast, then to the neck. Finally, when his jaw-bone rested on the ground, he pronounced the following verse:

With these bones, with my breath, I
go for refuge to the Buddha,
to the greatest amongst humans,
to the Deva over Devas,
the guide for those who need taming,
to the one with vision all round,
to the one with a hundred marks.

There is a tradition that when the Realised One saw that matters had gone thus far, he made a bhikkhu of Devadatta. And this he did because he became aware of the following: “If he shall remain a lay disciple and not be given the going forth as a bhikkhu, inasmuch as he has been guilty of grievous crimes, it will be impossible for him to look forwards with confidence to future existence; but if he shall go forth, no matter how grievous the crimes he has committed, it will be possible for him to look forwards with confidence to future existence.” {1.148} At the end of 100,000 aeons of time he will become a Paccekabuddha named Aṭṭhissara.

When Devadatta had sunk into the earth, he was reborn in the Avīci hell. “Since he wronged an unchanging Buddha, let him endure torture unrelenting,” and such was the torture he suffered. When he had entered the Avīci hell, which is a hundred leagues in extent, his body became a hundred leagues in height. His head, as far as the outer ear, entered an iron skull; his feet, as far as the ankles, [28.241] entered earth of iron. An iron stake as thick as the trunk of a palmyra tree proceeded forth from the west wall of the iron shell, pierced the small of his back, came forth from his breast, and penetrated the east wall. Another iron stake proceeded forth from the south wall, pierced his right side, came forth from his left side, and penetrated the north wall. Another iron stake proceeded forth from the top of the iron skull, pierced his skull, came forth from his lower parts, and penetrated earth of iron. In this position, immovable, he suffers this mode of torture.

The bhikkhus began a discussion, saying: “All this distance Devadatta came, but failed to see the Teacher, and was swallowed up by the earth.” The Teacher said: “Bhikkhus, this was not the first time Devadatta wronged me and was swallowed up by the earth; in a previous state of existence also he was swallowed up by the earth.”

And by way of illustrating the point, he told the story of an incident in his own previous existence as a king of the elephants. He directed aright a man who had lost his way, allowed him to mount his own back, and carried him to a place of safety, only to have the man return to him three successive times and saw off first the tips of his tusks, then the middle, and then the roots. As the man passed out of sight of the Great Being, he was swallowed up by the earth. {1.149} The Teacher then completed the Sīlavanāga Birth Story: BG: Ja 72.

The ungrateful person, always
looking out for an opening,
even if given the whole world,
still would never be satisfied.

The discussion reverting to the same subject again and again, in order to illustrate the swallowing up of Devadatta by the earth in his existence as Kalāburājā for an offense against himself in his existence as Khantivādi, he related the Birth Story about the One who Spoke of Forbearance. BG: Ja 313.

Again, in order to illustrate the swallowing up of Devadatta by the earth in his existence as Mahāpatāparājā for an offense against himself in his existence as Culla Dhammapāla, he related the Short Birth Story about (Prince) Dhammapāla. BG: Ja 358.

Now when Devadatta was swallowed up by the earth, the populace was pleased and delighted, and raising flags and banners and plantain trees and setting up brimming jars, held high festival, saying: “His death is indeed our great gain.”

When the bhikkhus reported this incident to the Fortunate One, the Fortunate One said: “Bhikkhus, this is not the first time the populace has rejoiced at Devadatta’s death; [28.242] in times past also the populace rejoiced thereat.” And when he had thus spoken, to illustrate the rejoicing of the populace at the death of King Piṅgala of Bārāṇasī, a man who was hated by all the people for his harshness and cruelty, he related the Birth Story about (the Unjust King) Mahā Piṅgala: BG: Ja 240.

In the past a wicked and unjust king named Mahāpiṅgala reigned at Benares, the tawny king, who did sinfully after his own will and pleasure. With taxes and fines, and many mutilations and robberies, he crushed the folk as it were sugar-cane in a mill; he was cruel, fierce, ferocious. For other people he had not a grain of pity; at home he was harsh and implacable towards his wives, his sons and daughters, to his brahmin courtiers and the householders of the country. He was like a speck of dust that falls in the eye, like gravel in the broth, like a thorn sticking in the heel.

Now the Bodhisatta was a son of king Mahā Piṅgala. After this king had reigned for a long time, he died. When he died all the citizens of Benares were overjoyed and laughed a great laugh; they burnt his body with a thousand cartloads of logs, and quenched the place of burning with thousands of jars of water, and consecrated the Bodhisatta to be king: they caused a drum of rejoicing to beat about the streets, for joy that they had got them a righteous king. They raised flags and banners, and decked out the city; at every door was set a pavilion, and scattering parched corn and flowers, they sat them down upon the decorated platforms under fine canopies, and did eat and drink. The Bodhisatta himself sat upon a fine divan on a great raised dais, in great magnificence, with a white parasol stretched above him. The courtiers and householders, the citizens and the doorkeepers stood around their king.

But one doorkeeper, standing not far from the king, was sighing and sobbing. “Good Porter,” said the Bodhisatta, observing him, “all the people are making merry for joy that my father is dead, but you stand weeping. Come, was my father good and kind to you?” And with the question he uttered the first verse:

All people were harassed by Piṅgala,
now, because he is dead, they feel delight,
what was the one with tawny eyes to you?
Why are you crying, watchman of the door? {1.150}

The man heard, and answered: “I am not weeping for sorrow that Piṅgala is dead. My head would be glad enough. For king Piṅgala, every time he came down from the palace, or went up into it, would give me eight blows over the head with his fist, like the blows of a blacksmith’s hammer. So when he goes down to the other world, he will deal eight blows on the head of Yama, the gatekeeper of hell, as though he were striking me. Then the people there will cry: ‘He is too cruel for us!’ And will send him up again. And I fear he will come and deal fisticuffs on my head again, and that is why I weep.” To explain the matter he uttered the second verse:

The one with tawny eyes wasn’t dear to me,
but his coming back I truly do fear,
going from here should he harrass Death’s King,
being harrassed, he may send him back here.

Finally the bhikkhus asked the Teacher: “Now, venerable Sir, tell us where Devadatta was reborn.” – “Bhikkhus, he was reborn in Avīci.” – “Venerable Sir, during his life here on earth he suffered, and when he went hence he was reborn in a place of suffering.” – “Yes, bhikkhus, they that abide in heedlessness, be they bhikkhus or laymen, suffer in both places.” So saying, he pronounced the following verse:

17. Idha tappati, pecca tappati,
pāpakārī ubhayattha tappati,
“Pāpaṁ mĕ katan”-ti tappati,
bhiyyo tappati duggatiṁ gato.

Here he suffers, after death he suffers,
the wicked one suffers in both places,
he suffers, thinking: “I have done evil,”
gone to a bad fate, he suffers much more.

At the conclusion of the verse many became Stream-enterers and so forth, and benefit arose to many people from the teaching.