Buddhist birth stories; or, Jataka tales, Volume 1

by Unknown

II.—AVIDŪRE NIDĀNA.

It was when the Bodisat was thus dwelling in the City of Delight, that the so-called “Buddha proclamation” took place. For three such “Proclamations” take place on earth. These are the three. When they realize that at the end of a hundred thousand years a new dispensation will begin, the angels called Loka-byūhā, with their hair flying and dishevelled, with weeping faces, wiping away their tears with their hands, clad in red garments, and with their clothes all in disorder, wander among men, and make proclamation, saying,

“Friends, one hundred thousand years from now there will be a new dispensation; this system of worlds will be destroyed; even the mighty ocean will dry up; this great earth, with Sineru the monarch of mountains, will be burned up and destroyed; and the whole world, up to the realms of the immaterial angels, will pass away. Therefore, O friends, do mercy, live in kindness, and sympathy, and peace, cherish your mothers, support your fathers, honour the elders in your tribes.” This is called the proclamation of a new Age [Kappahalāhalaŋ].

Again, when they realize that at the end of a thousand years an omniscient Buddha will appear on earth, the angel-guardians of the world go from place to place and make proclamation, saying, “Friends, at the end of a thousand years from this time a Buddha will appear on earth.” This is called the proclamation of a Buddha [Buddha-halāhalaŋ].

Again, when the angels realize that at the end of a hundred years a universal monarch will appear, they go from place to place and make proclamation, saying, “Friends, at the end of a hundred years from this time a universal monarch will appear on earth.” This is called the proclamation of a Universal monarch [Cakka-vatti-halāhalaŋ]. These are the three great proclamations.

When of these three they hear the Buddha-proclamation, the deities of the ten thousand world-systems assemble together; and having ascertained which of the then living beings will become the Buddha, they go to him and beseech him to do so,—so beseeching him when the first signs appear that his present life is drawing to its close. Accordingly on this occasion they all, with the archangels in each world-system,[171] assembled in one world, and going to the future Buddha in the Heaven of Delight, they besought him, saying,

“O Blessed One, when thou wast fulfilling the Ten Perfections, thou didst not do so from a desire for the glorious state of an archangel—Sakka, or Māra, or Brahma—or of a mighty king upon earth; thou wast fulfilling them with the hope of reaching Omniscience for the sake of the Salvation of mankind! Now has the moment come, O Blessed One, for thy Buddhahood; now has the time, O Blessed One, arrived!”

But the Great Being, as if he had not granted the prayer of the deities, reflected in succession on the following five important points, viz. the time of his advent; the continent and country where he should appear; the tribe in which he should be born; the mother who should bear him, and the time when her life should be complete.

Of these he first reflected on the Time, thinking, “Is this the time or not?” And on this point he thought, “When the duration of human existence is more than a hundred thousand years, the time has not arrived. Why not? Because in such a period men perceive not that living beings are subject to birth, decay, and death; the threefold pearl of the preaching of the Gospel of the Buddhas is unknown; and when the Buddhas speak of the impermanence of things, of the universality of sorrow, and of the delusion of individuality, people will neither listen nor believe, saying, ‘What is this they talk of?’ At such a time there can be no perception of the truth, and without that the gospel will not lead to salvation. That therefore is not the time. Neither is it the right time when the term of human existence is under one hundred years. Why not? Because then sin is rife among men; and admonition addressed to the sinners finds no place for edification, but like a streak drawn on the water vanishes quickly away. That therefore is not the time. When, however, the term of human existence is under a hundred thousand and over a hundred years, that is the proper time.” Now at that time the age of man was one hundred years. The Great Being therefore saw that the time of his advent had arrived.

Then reflecting upon the Continent, and considering the four great continents with their surrounding islands,[172] he thought, “In three of the continents the Buddhas do not—but in Jambudvīpa they do—appear,” and thus he decided on the continent.

Then reflecting upon the District, and thinking, “Jambudvīpa indeed is large, ten thousand leagues in extent; now in which district of it do the Buddhas appear?” he fixed upon the Middle Country.[173] And calling to mind that the town named Kapilavastu was in that country, he concluded that he ought to be born in it.

Then reflecting on the Tribe, he thought, “The Buddhas are not born in the Vaisya caste, nor the Sūdra caste; but either in the Brāhmana or in the Kshatriya caste, whichever is then held in the highest repute. The Kshatriya caste is now predominant, I must be born in it, and Suddhodana the chief shall be my father.” Thus he decided on the tribe.

Then reflecting on the Mother, he thought, “The mother of a Buddha is not eager for love, or cunning after drink, but has fulfilled the Perfections for a hundred thousand ages, and from her birth upwards has kept the five Precepts unbroken. Now this lady Mahā Māyā is such a one, she shall be my mother.” And further considering how long her life should last, he foresaw that it would still last ten months and seven days.

Having thus reflected on these five important points, he favoured the deities by granting their prayer, saying, “The time has arrived, O Blessed Ones, for me to become a Buddha.” He then dismissed them with the words, “You may depart;” and attended by the angels of the heaven of Joy, he entered the grove of Gladness in the City of Delight.

Now in each of the angel-heavens (Devalokas) there is such a grove of Gladness; and there the angels are wont to remind any one of them who is about to depart of the opportunities he has gained by good deeds done in a former birth, saying to him, “When fallen hence, mayest thou be reborn in bliss.” And thus He also, when walking about there, surrounded by angels reminding him of his acquired merit, departed thence; and was conceived in the womb of the Lady Mahā Māyā.

In order to explain this better, the following is the account in fuller detail. At that time, it is said, the Midsummer festival was proclaimed in the City of Kapilavastu, and the people were enjoying the feast. During the seven days before the full moon the Lady Mahā Māyā had taken part in the festivity, as free from intoxication as it was brilliant with garlands and perfumes. On the seventh day she rose early and bathed in perfumed water: and she distributed four hundred thousand pieces in giving great largesse. Decked in her richest attire she partook of the purest food: and vowing to observe the Eight Commandments, she entered her beautiful chamber, and lying on her royal couch she fell asleep and dreamt this dream.

The four archangels, the Guardians of the world, lifting her up in her couch, carried her to the Himālaya mountains, and placing her under the Great Sāla-tree, seven leagues high, on the Crimson Plain, sixty yojanas broad, they stood respectfully aside. Their queens then came toward her, and taking her to the lake of Anotatta, bathed her to free her from human stains; and dressed her in heavenly garments; and anointed her with perfumes; and decked her with heavenly flowers. Not far from there is the Silver Hill, within which is a golden mansion; in it they spread a heavenly couch, with its head towards the East, and on it they laid her down. Then the future Buddha, who had become a superb white elephant, and was wandering on the Golden Hill, not far from there, descended thence, and ascending the Silver Hill, approached her from the North. Holding in his silvery trunk a white lotus flower, and uttering a far-reaching cry, he entered the golden mansion, and thrice doing obeisance to his mother’s couch, he gently struck her right side, and seemed to enter her womb.[174]

Thus was he conceived at the end of the Midsummer festival. And the next day, having awoke from her sleep, she related her dream to the rāja. The rāja had sixty-four eminent Brāhmans summoned, and had costly seats spread on a spot made ready for the state occasion with green leaves and dalbergia flowers, and he had vessels of gold and silver filled with delicate milk-rice compounded with ghee and sweet honey, and covered with gold and silver bowls. This food he gave them, and he satisfied them with gifts of new garments and of tawny cows. And when he had thus satisfied their every desire, he had the dream told to them, and then he asked them, “What will come of it?”

The Brāhmans said, “Be not anxious, O king! your queen has conceived: and the fruit of her womb will be a man-child; it will not be a woman-child. You will have a son. And he, if he adopts a householder’s life, will become a king, a Universal Monarch; but if, leaving his home, he adopt the religious life, he will become a Buddha, who will remove from the world the veils of ignorance and sin.”

Now at the moment when the future Buddha made himself incarnate in his mother’s womb, the constituent elements of the ten thousand world-systems quaked, and trembled, and were shaken violently. The Thirty-two Good Omens also were made manifest. In the ten thousand world-systems an immeasurable light appeared. The blind received their sight (as if from very longing to behold this his glory). The deaf heard the noise. The dumb spake one with another. The crooked became straight. The lame walked. All prisoners were freed from their bonds and chains. In each hell the fire was extinguished. The hungry ghosts received food and drink. The wild animals ceased to be afraid. The illness of all who were sick was allayed. All men began to speak kindly. Horses neighed, and elephants trumpeted gently. All musical instruments gave forth each its note, though none played upon them. Bracelets and other ornaments jingled of themselves. All the heavens became clear. A cool soft breeze wafted pleasantly for all. Rain fell out of due season. Water, welling up from the very earth, overflowed.[175] The birds forsook their flight on high. The rivers stayed their waters’ flow. The waters of the mighty ocean became fresh. Everywhere the earth was covered with lotuses of every colour. All flowers blossomed on land and in water. The trunks, and branches, and twigs of trees were covered with the bloom appropriate to each. On earth tree-lotuses sprang up by sevens together, breaking even through the rocks; and hanging-lotuses descended from the skies. The ten-thousand world-systems revolved, and rushed as close together as a bunch of gathered flowers; and became as it were a woven wreath of worlds, as sweet-smelling and resplendent as a mass of garlands, or as a sacred altar decked with flowers.

From the moment of the incarnation, thus brought about, of the future Buddha, four angels, with swords in their hands, stood guard over the Bodisat and his mother, to shield them from all harm. Pure in thought, having reached the highest aim and the highest honour, the mother was happy and unwearied; and she saw the child within her as plainly as one could see a thread passed through a transparent gem.[176] But as a womb in which a future Buddha has dwelt, like a sacred relic shrine, can never be occupied by another; the mother of the Bodisat, seven days after his birth, died, and was reborn in the City of Delight.

Now other women give birth, some before, some after, the completion of the tenth month, some sitting, and some lying down. Not so the mother of a Bodisat. She gives birth to the Bodisat, standing, after she has cherished him in her womb for exactly ten months. This is a distinctive quality of the mother of a Buddha elect.

And queen Mahā Māyā, when she too had thus cherished the Bodisat in her womb, like oil in a vessel, for ten months, felt herself far gone with child: and wishing to go to her family home she spake to King Suddhodana, and said,

“O king! I wish to go to Devadaha, to the city of my people.”

The king, saying, “It is good,” consented, and had the road from Kapilavastu to Devadaha made plain, and decked with arches of plaintain-trees, and well-filled water-pots, and flags, and banners. And seating the queen in a golden palanquin carried by a thousand attendants, he sent her away with a great retinue.

Now between the two towns there is a pleasure-grove of sāla-trees belonging to the people of both cities, and called the Lumbini grove. At that time, from the roots to the topmost branches, it was one mass of fruits and flowers; and amidst the blossoms and branches swarms of various-coloured bees, and flocks of birds of different kinds, roamed, warbling sweetly. The whole of the Lumbini grove was like a wood of variegated creepers, or the well-decorated banqueting hall of some mighty king. The queen beholding it was filled with the desire of besporting herself in the sal-tree grove; and the attendants, carrying the queen, entered the wood. When she came to the monarch sal-tree of the glade, she wanted to take hold of a branch of it, and the branch bending down, like a reed heated by steam, approached within reach of her hand. Stretching out her hand she took hold of the branch, and then her pains came upon her. The people drawing a curtain round her, retired. Standing, and holding the branch of the sal-tree, she was delivered.

That very moment the four pure-minded Mahā Brahma angels came there bringing a golden net; and receiving the future Buddha on that net, they placed him before his mother, saying, “Be joyful, O Lady! a mighty son is born to thee!”

Now other living things, when they leave their mother’s womb, leave it smeared with offensive and impure matter. Not so a Bodisat. The future Buddha left his mother’s womb like a preacher descending from a pulpit or a man from a ladder, erect, stretching out his hands and feet, unsoiled by any impurities from contact with his mother’s womb, pure and fair, and shining like a gem placed on fine muslin of Benares. But though this was so, two showers of water came down from heaven in honour of them and refreshed the Bodisat and his mother.

From the hands of the angels who had received him in the golden net, four kings received him on cloth of antelope skins, soft to the touch, such as are used on occasions of royal state. From their hands men received him on a roll of fine cloth; and on leaving their hands he stood up upon the ground and looked towards the East. Thousands of world-systems became visible to him like a single open space. Men and angels offering him sweet-smelling garlands, said, “O great Being, there is no other like thee, how then a greater?” Searching the ten directions (the four points of the compass, the four intermediate points, the zenith and the nadir), and finding no one like himself, he took seven strides, saying, “This is the best direction.” And as he walked the archangel Brahma held over him the white umbrella, and the archangel Suyāma followed him with the fan, and other deities with the other symbols of royalty in their hands. Then stopping at the seventh step, he sent forth his noble voice and shouted the shout of victory, beginning with, “I am the chief of the world.”[177]

Now the future Buddha in three births thus uttered his voice immediately on leaving his mother’s womb; in his birth as Mahosadha, in his birth as Vessantara, and in this birth. In the Mahosadha birth the archangel Sakka came to him as he was being born, and placing some fine sandal-wood in his hand, went away. He came out from the womb holding this in his fist. His mother asked him, “What is it you hold, dear, as you come?” He answered, “Medicine, mother!” So because he came holding medicine, they gave him the name of Medicine-child (Osadhadāraka). Taking the medicine they kept it in a chatty (an earthenware water-pot); and it became a drug by which all the sickness of the blind and deaf and others, as many as came, was healed. So the saying sprang up, “This is a powerful drug, this is a powerful drug;” and hence he was called Mahosadha (The Great Medicine Man).

Again, in the Vessantara birth, as he left his mother’s womb, he stretched out his right hand, saying, “But is there anything in the house, mother? I would give a gift.” Then his mother, saying, “You are born, dear, in a wealthy family,” took his hand in hers, and placed on it a bag containing a thousand.

Lastly, in this birth he sang the song of victory. Thus the future Buddha in three births uttered his voice as he came out of his mother’s womb. And as at the moment of his conception, so at the moment of his birth, the thirty-two Good Omens were seen.

Now at the very time when our Bodisat was born in the Lumbini grove, the lady, the mother of Rāhula, Channa the attendant, Kāḷudāyi the minister, Kanthaka the royal horse, the great Bo-tree, and the four vases full of treasure, also came into being. Of these last, one was two miles, one four, one six, and one eight miles in size. These seven are called the Sahajātā, the Connatal Ones.[178]

The people of both towns took the Bodisat and went to Kapilavastu. On that day too, the choirs of angels in the Tāvatiŋsa heaven were astonished and joyful; and waved their cloaks and rejoiced, saying, “In Kapilavastu, to Suddhodana the king, a son is born, who, seated under the Bo-tree, will become a Buddha.”

At that time an ascetic named Kāḷa Devala (a confidential adviser of Suddhodana the king, who had passed through the eight stages of religious attainment)[179] had eaten his mid-day meal, and had gone to the Tāvatiŋsa heaven, to rest through the heat of the day. Whilst there sitting resting, he saw these angels, and asked them, “Why are you thus glad at heart and rejoicing? Tell me the reason of it.”

The angels replied, “Sir, to Suddhodana the king is born a son, who seated under the Bo-tree will become a Buddha, and will found a Kingdom of Righteousness.[180] To us it will be given to see his infinite grace and to hear his word. Therefore it is that we are glad!”

The ascetic, hearing what they said, quickly came down from the angel-world, and entering the king’s house, sat down on the seat set apart for him, and said, “A son they say is born to you, O king! let me see him.”

The king ordered his son to be clad in splendour and brought in to salute the ascetic. But the future Buddha turned his feet round, and planted them on the matted hair of the ascetic.[181] For in that birth there was no one worthy to be saluted by the Bodisat, and if those ignorant ones had placed the head of the future Buddha at the feet of the ascetic, assuredly the ascetic’s head would have split in two. The ascetic rose from his seat, and saying, “It is not right for me to work my own destruction,” he did homage to the Bodisat. And the king also seeing this wonder did homage to his own son.

Now the ascetic had the power of calling to mind the events of forty ages (kalpas) in the past, and of forty ages in the future. Looking at the marks of future prosperity on the Bodisat’s body, he considered with himself, “Will he become a Buddha or not?” And perceiving that he would most certainly become a Buddha, he smiled, saying, “This is a wonderful child.” Then reflecting, “Will it be given to me to behold him when he has become a Buddha?” he perceived that it would not. “Dying before that time I shall be reborn in the Formless World; so that while a hundred or perhaps a thousand Buddhas appear among men, I shall not be able to go and be taught by them. And it will not be my good fortune to behold this so wonderful child when he has become a Buddha. Great, indeed, is my loss!” And he wept.

The people seeing this, asked, saying, “Our master just now smiled, and has now begun to weep! Will, sir, any misfortune befall our master’s little one?”[182]

“There is no misfortune in him; assuredly he will become a Buddha,” was the reply.

“Why then do you weep?”

“It will not be granted to me,” he said, “to behold so great a man when he has become a Buddha. Great, indeed, is my loss! bewailing myself, I weep.”

Then reflecting, “Will it be granted or not to any one of my relatives to see him as a Buddha?” he saw it would be granted to his nephew Nālaka. So he went to his sister’s house, and said to her, “Where is your son Nālaka?”

“In the house, brother.”

“Call him,” said he. When he came he said to him, “In the family of Suddhodana the king, dear, a son is born, a young Buddha. In thirty-five years he will become a Buddha, and it will be granted you to see him. This very day give up the world!”

Bearing in mind that his uncle was not a man to urge him without a cause, the young man, though born in a family of incalculable wealth,[183] straightway took out of the inner store a yellow suit of clothes and an earthenware pot, and shaved his head and put on the robes. And saying, “I take the vows for the sake of the greatest Being upon earth,” he prostrated himself on the ground and raised his joined hands in adoration towards the Bodisat. Then putting the begging bowl in a bag, and carrying it on his shoulder, he went to the Himālaya mountains, and lived the life of a monk.

When the Tathāgata had attained to complete Enlightenment, Nālaka went to him and heard the way of salvation.[184] He then returned to the Himālayas, and reached Arahatship. And when he had lived seven months longer as a pilgrim along the most excellent Path, he past away when standing near a Golden Hill, by that final extinction in which no part or power of man remains.[185]

Now on the fifth day they bathed the Bodisat’s head, saying, “Let us perform the rite of choosing a name for him.” So they perfumed the king’s house with four kinds of odours, and decked it with Dalbergia flowers, and made ready rice well cooked in milk. Then they sent for one hundred and eight Brāhmans who had mastered the three Vedas, and seated them in the king’s house, and gave them the pleasant food to eat, and did them great honour, and asked them to recognize the signs of what the child should be.

Among them—

270. Rāma, and Dhaja, and Lakkhaṇa, and Mantin,

Kondanya and Bhoja, Suyāma and Sudatta,

These eight Brāhmans then were there,

Their senses all subdued; and they declared the charm.

Now these eight Brāhmans were recognizers of signs; it was by them that the dream on the night of conception had been interpreted. Seven of them holding up two fingers prophesied in the alternative, saying, “If a man having such marks should remain a householder, he becomes a Universal Monarch; but if he takes the vows, he becomes a Buddha.” And, so saying, they declared all the glory and power of a Cakkavatti king.

But the youngest of all of them, a young Brāhman whose family name was Kondanya, beholding the perfection of the auspicious marks on the Bodisat, raised up one finger only, and prophesied without ambiguity, and said, “There is no sign of his remaining amidst the cares of household life. Verily, he will become a Buddha, and remove the veils of sin and ignorance from the world.”

This man already, under former Buddhas, had made a deep resolve of holiness, and had now reached his last birth. Therefore it was that he surpassed the other seven in wisdom; that he perceived how the Bodisat would only be subject to this one life; and that, raising only one finger, he so prophesied, saying, “The lot of one possessed of these marks will not be cast amidst the cares of household life. Verily he will become a Buddha!”

Now those Brāhmans went home, and addressed their sons, saying, “We are old, beloved ones; whether or not we shall live to see the son of Suddhodana the king after he has gained omniscience, do you, when he has gained omniscience, take the vows according to his religion.” And after they all seven had lived out their span of life, they passed away and were reborn according to their deeds.

But the young Brāhman Kondanya was free from disease; and for the sake of the wisdom of the Great Being he left all that he had and made the great renunciation. And coming in due course to Uruvela, he thought, “Behold how pleasant is this place! how suitable for the exertions of a young man desirous of wrestling with sin.” So he took up his residence there.

And when he heard that the Great Being had taken the vows, he went to the sons of those Brāhmans, and said to them, “Siddhattha the prince has taken the vows. Assuredly he will become a Buddha. If your fathers were in health they would to-day leave their homes, and take the vows: and now, if you should so desire, come, I will take the vows in imitation of him.” But all of them were not able to agree with one accord; three did not give up the world; the other four made Kondanya the Brāhman their leader, and took the vows. It was those five who came to be called “the Company of the Five Elders.”

Then the king asked, “After seeing what, will my son forsake the world?”

“The four Omens,” was the reply.

“Which four?”

“A man worn out by age, a, sick man, a dead body, and a monk.”

The king thought, “From this time let no such things come near my son. There is no good of my son’s becoming a Buddha. I should like to see my son exercising rule and sovereignty over the four great continents and the two thousand islands that surround them; and walking, as it were, in the vault of heaven, surrounded by an innumerable retinue.”[186] Then, so saying, he placed guards two miles apart in the four directions to prevent men of those four kinds coming to the sight of his son.

That day also, of eighty thousand clansmen assembled in the festival hall, each one dedicated a son, saying, “Whether this child becomes a Buddha or a king, we give each a son; so that if he shall become a Buddha, he shall live attended and honoured by Kshatriya monks, and if he shall become a king, he shall live attended and honoured by Kshatriya nobles.”[187] And the rāja appointed nurses of great beauty, and free from every fault, for the Bodisat. So the Bodisat grew up in great splendour and surrounded by an innumerable retinue.

Now one day the king held the so-called Ploughing Festival. On that day they ornament the town like a palace of the gods. All the slaves and servants, in new garments and crowned with sweet-smelling garlands, assemble in the king’s house. For the king’s work a thousand ploughs are yoked. On this occasion one hundred and eight minus one were, with their oxen-reins and cross-bars, ornamented with silver. But the plough for the king to use was ornamented with red gold; and so also the horns and reins and goads of the oxen.

The king, leaving his house with a great retinue, took his son and went to the spot. There there was a Jambu-tree thick with leaves and giving a dense shade. Under it the rāja had the child’s couch laid out; and over the couch a canopy spread inlaid with stars of gold, and round it a curtain hung. Then leaving a guard there, the rāja, clad in splendour and attended by his ministers, went away to plough.

At such a time the king takes hold of a golden plough, the attendant ministers one hundred and eight minus one silver ploughs, and the peasants the rest of the ploughs. Holding them they plough this way and that way. The rāja goes from one side to the other, and comes from the other back again.

On this occasion the king had great success; and the nurses seated round the Bodisat, thinking, “Let us go to see the king’s glory,” came out from within the curtain, and went away. The future Buddha, looking all round, and seeing no one, got up quickly, seated himself cross-legged, and holding his breath, sank into the first Jhāna.[188]

The nurses, engaged in preparing various kinds of food, delayed a little. The shadows of the other trees turned round, but that of the Jambu-tree remained steady and circular in form. The nurses, remembering their young master was alone, hurriedly raised the curtain and returned inside it. Seeing the Bodisat sitting cross-legged, and that miracle of the shadow, they went and told the rāja, saying, “O king! the prince is seated in such and such a manner; and while the shadows of the other trees have turned, that of the Jambu-tree is fixed in a circle!”

And the rāja went hurriedly and saw that miracle, and did homage to his son, saying, “This, Beloved One, is the second homage paid to thee!”

But the Bodisat in due course grew to manhood. And the king had three mansions made, suitable for the three seasons, one nine stories high, one seven stories high, and one five stories high; and he provided him with forty thousand dancing girls. So the Bodisat, surrounded by well-dressed dancing girls, like a god surrounded by troops of houris, and attended by musical instruments which played of themselves, lived, as the seasons changed, in each of these mansions in enjoyment of great majesty. And the mother of Rāhula was his principal queen.

Whilst he was thus in the enjoyment of great prosperity the following talk sprang up in the public assembly of his clansmen: “Siddhattha lives devoted to pleasure; not one thing does he learn; if war should break out, what would he do?”

The king sent for the future Buddha, and said to him, “Your relations, Beloved One, say that you learn nothing, and are given up to pleasure: now what do you think you should do about this?”

“O king! there is no art it is necessary for me to learn. Send the crier round the city, that I may show my skill. Seven days from now I will show my kindred what I can do.”

The king did so. The Bodisat assembled those so skilled in archery that they could split even a hair, and shoot as quick as lightning; and then, in the midst of the people, he showed his relatives his twelvefold skill, and how unsurpassed he was by other masters of the bow.[189] So the assembly of his clansmen doubted no longer.

Now one day the future Buddha, wanting to go to his pleasure ground, told his charioteer to harness his chariot. The latter accordingly decked the gloriously beautiful chariot with all its trappings, and harnessed to it four state horses of the Sindhi breed, and white as the leaves of the white lotus flower. And he informed the Bodisat. So the Bodisat ascended the chariot, resplendent like a mansion in the skies, and went towards the garden.

The angels thought, “The time for young Siddhattha to attain Enlightenment is near, let us show him the Omens.” And they did so by making a son of the gods represent a man wasted by age, with decayed teeth and grey hair, bent and broken down in body, and with a stick in his hand. But he was only visible to the future Buddha and his charioteer.

Then the Bodisat asked his charioteer, as is told in the Mahāpadāna, “What kind of man is this, whose very hair is not as that of other men?” When he heard his servant’s answer, he said, “Shame then be to life! since the decay of every living being is notorious!” and with agitated heart he turned back at that very spot and re-entered his palace.

The king asked, “Why does my son turn back so hurriedly?”

“He has seen an old man,” they said; “and having seen an old man, he will forsake the world.”

“By this you ruin me,” exclaimed the rāja; “quickly get ready concerts and plays to be performed before my son. So long as he continues in the enjoyment of pleasure, he will not turn his thoughts to forsaking the world!” Then increasing the guards, he placed them at each point of the compass, at intervals of half a league.

Again, one day, when the future Buddha, as he was going to his pleasure ground, saw a sick man represented by the gods, he made the same inquiry as before; and then, with agitated heart, turned back and re-entered his palace. The king also made the same inquiry, and gave the same orders as before; and again increasing the guard, placed them all round at a distance of three-quarters of a league.

Once more, when the future Buddha, as he was going to his pleasure ground, saw a dead man represented by the gods, he made the same inquiry as before; and then, with agitated heart, turned back and re-entered his palace. The king also made the same inquiry, and gave the same orders as before; and again increasing the guard, placed them all round at a distance of a league.

Once again, when the future Buddha, as he was going to his pleasure ground, saw one who had abandoned the world, carefully and decently clad, he asked his charioteer, “Friend, what kind of man is that?” As at that time there was no Buddha at all in the world, the charioteer understood neither what a mendicant was nor what were his distinguishing characteristics; but nevertheless, inspired by the gods, he said, “That is a mendicant friar;” and described the advantages of renouncing the world. And that day the future Buddha, cherishing the thought of renouncing the world, went on to his pleasure ground.

The repeaters of the Dīgha Nikāya,[190] however, say that he saw all the four Omens on the same day, and then went to his pleasure ground. There he enjoyed himself during the day and bathed in the beautiful lake; and at sunset seated himself on the royal resting stone to be robed. Now his attendants brought robes of different colours, and various kinds of ornaments, and garlands, and perfumes, and ointments, and stood around him.

At that moment the throne on which Sakka was seated became warm.[191] And thinking to himself, “Who is it now who wants me to descend from hence?” he perceived that the time for the adornment of the future Buddha had come. And he said to Vissakamma, “Friend Vissakamma, the young noble Siddhattha, to-day, at midnight, will carry out the Great Renunciation. This is the last time he will be clad in splendour. Go to the pleasure ground and adorn him with heavenly array.”

By the miraculous power which angels have, he accordingly, that very moment, drew near in the likeness of the royal barber; and taking from the barber’s hand the material for the turban, he arranged it round the Bodisat’s head. At the touch of his hand the Bodisat knew, “This is no man, it is a son of the gods.” When the first round of the turban was put on, there arose, by the appearance of the jewelry on the diadem, a thousand folds; when the turban was wrapt the second time round, a thousand folds arose again; when ten times, ten thousand folds appeared. How so many folds could seem to rise on so small a head is beyond imagination; for in size the largest of them were as the flower of the Black Priyaŋgu creeper, and the rest even as Kutumbaka blossoms. And the head of the future Buddha became like a Kuyyaka flower in full bloom.

And when he was arrayed in all his splendour,—the musicians the while exhibiting each one his peculiar skill, the Brāhmans honouring him with words of joy and victory, and the men of lower castes with festive cries and shouts of praise;—he ascended his superbly decorated car.

At that time Suddhodana the king, who had heard that the mother of Rāhula had brought forth a son, sent a message, saying, “Make known my joy to my son!” The future Buddha, hearing this, said, “An impediment has come into being, a bond has come into being.” When the king asked, “What did my son say?” and heard that saying; he gave command, “From henceforth let Rāhula (impediment) be my grandson’s name.” But the Bodisat, riding in his splendid chariot, entered the town with great magnificence and exceeding glory.

At that time a noble virgin, Kisā Gotamī by name, had gone to the flat roof of the upper story of her palace, and she beheld the beauty and majesty of the Bodisat as he was proceeding through the city. Pleased and delighted at the sight, she burst forth into this song of joy:—

271. Blessed indeed is that mother,—

Blessed indeed is that father,—

Blessed indeed is that wife,—

Who owns this Lord so glorious!

Hearing this, the Bodisat thought to himself, “On catching sight of such a one the heart of his mother is made happy, the heart of his father is made happy, the heart of his wife is made happy! This is all she says. But by what can every heart attain to lasting happiness and peace?” And to him whose mind was estranged from sin the answer came, “When the fire of lust is gone out, then peace is gained; when the fires of hatred and delusion are gone out, then peace is gained; when the troubles of mind, arising from pride, credulity, and all other sins, have ceased, then peace is gained! Sweet is the lesson this singer makes me hear, for the Nirvāna of Peace is that which I have been trying to find out. This very day I will break away from household cares! I will renounce the world! I will follow only after the Nirvāna itself![192]

Then loosing from his neck a string of pearls worth a hundred thousand, he sent it to Kisā Gotamī as a teacher’s fee. Delighted at this, she thought, “Prince Siddhattha has fallen in love with me, and has sent me a present.” But the Bodisat, on entering his palace in great splendour, reclined on a couch of state.

Thereupon women clad in beautiful array, skilful in the dance and song, and lovely as heavenly virgins, brought their musical instruments, and ranging themselves in order, danced, and sang, and played delightfully. But the Bodisat, his heart being estranged from sin, took no pleasure in the spectacle, and fell asleep.

And the women, saying, “He, for whose sake we were performing, is gone to sleep? Why should we play any longer?” laid aside the instruments they held, and lay down to sleep. The lamps fed with sweet-smelling oil were just burning out. The Bodisat, waking up, sat cross-legged on the couch, and saw them with their stage properties laid aside and sleeping—some foaming at the mouth, some grinding their teeth, some yawning, some muttering in their sleep, some gaping, and some with their dress in disorder—plainly revealed as mere horrible sources of mental distress.

Seeing this woful change in their appearance, he became more and more disgusted with lusts. To him that magnificent apartment, as splendid as Sakka’s residence in heaven, began to seem like a charnel-house full of loathsome corpses. Life, whether in the worlds subject to passion, or in the worlds of form, or in the formless worlds, seemed to him like staying in a house that had become the prey of devouring flames.[193] An utterance of intense feeling broke from him—“It all oppresses me! It is intolerable!” and his mind turned ardently to the state of those who have renounced the world. Resolving that very day to accomplish the Great Renunciation, he rose from his couch, went to the door and called out, “Who is there?”

Channa, who had been sleeping with his head on the threshold, answered, “It is I, sir, Channa.”

Then said he, “I am resolved to-day to accomplish the Great Renunciation—saddle me a horse.”

So Channa went to the stable-yard, and entering the stables saw by the light of the lamps the mighty steed Kanthaka, standing at a pleasant spot under a canopy of cloth, beautified with a pattern of jasmine flowers. “This is the very one I ought to saddle to-day,” thought he; and he saddled Kanthaka.

Even whilst he was being saddled the horse knew, “He is saddling me so tightly, and not as on other days for such rides as those to the pleasure grounds, because my master is about to-day to carry out the Great Renunciation.” Then, glad at heart, he neighed a mighty neigh; and the sound thereof would have penetrated over all the town, had not the gods stopped the sound, and let no one hear it.

Now after the Bodisat had sent Channa on this errand, he thought, “I will just look at my son.” And rising from his couch he went to the apartments of Rāhula’s mother, and opened her chamber door. At that moment a lamp, fed with sweet-smelling oil, was burning dimly in the inner chamber. The mother of Rāhula was asleep on a bed strewn with many jasmine flowers,[194] and resting her hand on the head of her son. Stopping with his foot on the threshold, the Bodisat thought, “If I lift her hand to take my son, she will awake; and that will prevent my going away. I will come back and see him when I have become a Buddha.” And he left the palace.

Now what is said in the Jātaka commentary, “At that time Rāhula was seven days old,” is not found in the other commentaries. Therefore the view given above should be accepted.[195]

And when the Bodisat had left the palace, he went to his horse, and said, “My good Kanthaka, do thou save me this once to-night; so that I, having become a Buddha by your help, shall save the world of men, and that of angels too.” Then leaping up, he seated himself on Kanthaka’s back.

Kanthaka was eighteen cubits in length from the nape of his neck, and of proportionate height; he was strong and fleet, and white all over like a clean chank shell. If he should neigh or paw the ground, the sound would penetrate through all the town. Therefore the angels so muffled the sound of his neighing that none could hear it; and placed, at each step, the palms of their hands under his feet.

The Bodisat rode on the mighty back of the mighty steed; told Channa to catch hold of its tail, and arrived at midnight at the great gate of the city.

Now the king thinking, “In that way the Bodisat will not be able at any time to open the city gate and get away,” had placed a thousand men at each of the two gates to stop him. The Bodisat was mighty and strong according to the measure of elephants as ten thousand million elephants, and according to the measure of men as a million million men. He thought, “If the door does not open, sitting on Kanthaka’s back with Channa holding his tail, I will press Kanthaka with my thighs, and jumping over the city rampart, eighteen cubits high, I will get away!” Channa thought, “If the door is not opened, I will take my master on my neck, and putting my right hand round Kanthaka’s girth, I will hold him close to my waist, and so leap over the rampart and get away!” Kanthaka thought, “If the door is not opened, I will spring up with my master seated as he is on my back, and Channa holding by my tail, and will leap over the rampart and get away!” And if the door had not been opened, verily one or other of those three would have accomplished that whereof he had thought. But the angel residing at the gate opened it.

At that moment Māra came there with the intention of stopping the Bodisat; and standing in the air, he exclaimed, “Depart not, O my lord! in seven days from now the wheel of empire will appear, and will make you sovereign over the four continents and the two thousand adjacent isles. Stop, O my lord!”

“Who are you?” said he.

“I am Vasavatti,” was the reply.

“Māra! Well do I know that the wheel of empire would appear to me; but it is not sovereignty that I desire. I will become a Buddha, and make the ten thousand world-systems shout for joy.”

Then thought the Tempter to himself: “Now, from this time forth, whenever a thought of lust or anger or malice shall arise within you, I will get to know of it.” And he followed him, ever watching for some slip, as closely as a shadow which never leaves its object.

But the future Buddha, making light of the kingdom of the world, thus within his reach,—casting it away as one would saliva,—left the city with great honour on the full-moon day of Āsāḷhi, when the moon was in the Uttarā-sāḷha lunar mansion (i.e. on the 1st July). And when he had left the city a desire sprang up within him to gaze upon it; and the instant he did so the broad earth revolved like a potter’s wheel, and was stayed: saying as it were to him, “O Great Being, there is no need for you to stop in order to fulfil your wish.” So the Bodisat, with his face towards the city, gazed at it; and he fixed at that place a spot for the Kanthaka-Nivattana Cetiya (that is, The Shrine of Kanthaka’s Staying—a Dāgaba afterwards built where this miracle was believed to have happened). And keeping Kanthaka in the direction in which he was going, he went on with great honour and exceeding glory.

For then, they say, angels in front of him carried sixty thousand torches, and behind him too, and on his right hand, and on his left. And while some deities, undefined on the edge of the horizon, held torches aloft; other deities, and the Nāgas, and Winged Creatures, and other superhuman beings, bore him company—doing homage with heavenly perfumes, and garlands, and sandal-wood powder, and incense. And the whole sky was full of Paricchātaka flowers from Indra’s heaven, as with the pouring rain when thick clouds gather. Heavenly songs floated around; and on every side thousands of musical instruments sounded, as when the thunder roars in the midst of the sea, or the great ocean heaves against the boundaries of the world!

Advancing in this pomp and glory, the Bodisat, in that one night, passed beyond three kingdoms, and arrived, at the end of thirty leagues, at the bank of the river called Anomā. But why could not the horse go still further? It was not through want of power: for he could go from one edge of the round world to the other, as easily as one could step across the circumference of a wheel lying on its side;—and doing this in the forenoon, he could return and eat the food prepared for him. But on this occasion he was constantly delayed by having to drag himself along, and break his way through the mass of garlands and flowers, cast down from heaven in such profusion by the angels, and the Snakes, and the Winged Creatures, that his very flanks were hid. Hence it was that he only got over thirty leagues.

Now the Bodisat, stopping at the river side, asked Channa, “What is this river called?”

“Its name, my lord, is Anomā.”

“And so also our renunciation of the world shall be called Anomā (illustrious),” said he; and signalling to his horse, by pressing it with his heel, the horse sprang over the river, five or six hundred yards in breadth, and stood on the opposite bank.

The Bodisat, getting down from the horse’s back, stood on the sandy beach, extending there like a sheet of silver, and said to Channa, “Good Channa, do thou now go back, taking my ornaments and Kanthaka. I am going to become a hermit.”

“But I also, my lord, will become a hermit.”

“You cannot be allowed to renounce the world, you must go back,” he said. Three times he refused this request of Channa’s; and he delivered over to him both the ornaments and Kanthaka.

Then he thought, “These locks of mine are not suited for a mendicant. Now it is not right for any one else to cut the hair of a future Buddha, so I will cut them off myself with my sword.” Then, taking his sword in his right hand, and holding the plaited tresses, together with the diadem on them, with his left, he cut them off. So his hair was thus reduced to two inches in length, and curling from the right, it lay close to his head. It remained that length as long as he lived, and the beard the same. There was no need at all to shave either hair or beard any more.

The Bodisat, saying to himself, “If I am to become a Buddha, let it stand in the air; if not, let it fall to the ground;” threw the hair and diadem together as he held them towards the sky. The plaited hair and the jewelled turban went a league off and stopped in the air. The archangel Sakka caught sight of it with his divine eye, and receiving it into a jewel casket, a league high, he placed it in the Tāvatiŋsa heaven, in the Dāgaba of the Diadem.

272. Cutting off his hair, with pleasant perfumes sweet,

The Lordly Being cast it to the sky.

The thousand-eyed one, Sakka, the sky God,

Received it humbly in a golden casket.

Again the Bodisat thought, “This my raiment of Benares muslin is not suitable for a mendicant.” Now the archangel Ghaṭikāra, who had formerly been his friend in the time of Kassapa Buddha, was led by his friendship, which had not grown old in that long interval, to think, “To-day my friend is accomplishing the Great Renunciation, I will go and provide him with the requisites of a mendicant.”

273. The three robes, and the alms bowl,

Razor, needle, and girdle,

And a water strainer—these eight

Are the wealth of the monk devout.

Taking these eight requisites of a mendicant, he gave them to him. The Bodisat dressed himself in the outward signs of an Arahat, and adopted the sacred garb of Renunciation; and he enjoined upon Channa to go and, in his name, assure his parents of his safety. And Channa did homage to the Bodisat reverently, and departed.

Now Kanthaka stood listening to the Bodisat as he talked with Channa. And thinking, “From this time forth I shall never see my master more!” he was unable to bear his grief. And going out of their sight, he died of a broken heart; and was reborn in the Tāvatiŋsa heaven as an angel, with the name of Kanthaka. So far the sorrow of Channa had been but single; now torn with the second sorrow of Kanthaka’s death, he returned, weeping and bewailing, to the city.

But the Bodisat, having renounced the world, spent seven days in a mango grove called Anūpiya, hard by that spot, in the joy of salvation. Then he went on foot in one day to Rājagaha, a distance of thirty leagues,[196] and entering the city, begged his food from door to door. The whole city at the sight of his beauty was thrown into commotion, like that other Rājagaha by the entrance of Dhanapālaka, or like heaven itself by the entrance of the Ruler of the Gods.

The guards went to the king and said, describing him, “O king! such and such a being is begging through the town. We cannot tell whether he is a god, or a man, or a Nāga, or a Supaṇṇa,[197] or what he is.”

The king, watching the Great Being from his palace, became full of wonder, and gave orders to his guards, saying, “Go, my men, and see. If it is a superhuman being, it will disappear as soon as it leaves the city; if a god, it will depart through the air; if a snake, it will dive into the earth; if a man, it will eat the food just as it is.”

But the Great Being collected scraps of food. And when he perceived there was enough to support him, he left the city by the gate at which he had entered. And seating himself, facing towards the East, under the shadow of the Paṇḍava rock, he began to eat his meal. His stomach, however, turned, and made as if it would come out of his mouth. Then, though distressed by that revolting food, for in that birth he had never even beheld such food with his eyes, he himself admonished himself, saying, “Siddhattha, it is true you were born in a family where food and drink were easily obtainable, into a state of life where your food was perfumed third-season’s rice, with various curries of the finest kinds. But ever since you saw one clad in a mendicant’s garb, you have been thinking, ‘When shall I become like him, and live by begging my food? would that that time were come!’ And now that you have left all for that very purpose, what is this that you are doing?” And overcoming his feelings, he ate the food.

The king’s men saw this, and went and told him what had happened. Hearing what his messengers said, the king quickly left the city, and approaching the Bodisat, was so pleased at the mere sight of his dignity and grace, that he offered him all his kingdom.

The Bodisat said, “In me, O king! there is no desire after wealth or sinful pleasures. It is in the hope of attaining to complete enlightenment that I have left all.” And when the king gained not his consent, though he asked it in many ways, he said, “Assuredly thou wilt become a Buddha! Deign at least after thy Buddhahood to come to my kingdom first.”

This is here concisely stated; but the full account, beginning, “I sing the Renunciation, how the Wise One renounced the world,” will be found on referring to the Pabbajjā Sutta and its commentary.

And the Bodisat, granting the king’s request, went forward on his way. And joining himself to Āḷāra Kāḷāma, and to Uddaka, son of Rāma, he acquired their systems of ecstatic trance. But when he saw that that was not the way to wisdom, he left off applying himself to the realization of that system of Attainment.[198] And with the intention of carrying out the Great Struggle against sin, and showing his might and resolution to gods and men, he went to Uruvela. And saying, “Pleasant, indeed, is this spot!” he took up his residence there, and devoted himself to the Great Struggle.[199]

And those five mendicants, Kondanya and the rest, begging their way through villages, market towns, and royal cities, met with the Bodisat there. And for six years they stayed by him and served him, while he was carrying out the Great Struggle, with different kinds of service, such as sweeping out the hermitage, and so on; thinking the while, “Now he will become a Buddha! now he will become a Buddha!”

Now the Bodisat thought, “I will perform the uttermost penance.” And he brought himself to live on one seed of the oil plant, or one grain of rice, and even to fast entirely; but the angels gathered the sap of life and infused it into him through the pores of his skin. By this fasting, however, he became as thin as a skeleton; the colour of his body, once fair as gold, became dark; and the Thirty-two signs of a Great Being disappeared. And one day, when walking up and down, plunged in intense meditation, he was overcome by severe pain; and he fainted, and fell.

Then certain of the angels began to say, “The mendicant Gotama is dead.” But others said, “Such is the condition of Arahats (saints).” And those who thought he was dead went and told Suddhodana the king, saying, “Your son is dead.”

“Did he die after becoming a Buddha, or before?”

“He was unable to attain to Buddhahood, and fell down and died in the midst of the Great Struggle.”

When the king heard this, he refused to credit it, saying, “I do not believe it. My son could never die without attaining to Wisdom!”

If you ask, “Why did not the king believe it?” it was because he had seen the miracles at the foot of the Jambu-tree, and on the day when Kāḷa Devala had been compelled to do homage to the Bodisat.

And the Bodisat recovered consciousness again, and stood up. And the angels went and told the king, “Your son, O king, is well.” And the king said, “I knew my son was not dead.”

And the Great Being’s six years’ penance became noised abroad, as when the sound of a great bell is heard in the sky. But he perceived that penance was not the way to Wisdom; and begging through the villages and towns, he collected ordinary material food, and lived upon it. And the Thirty-two signs of a Great Being appeared again upon him, and his body became fair in colour, like unto gold.

Then the five attendant mendicants thought, “This man has not been able, even by six years’ penance, to attain Omniscience; how can he do so now, when he goes begging through the villages, and takes material food? He is altogether lost in the Struggle. To think of getting spiritual advantage from him is like a man, who wants to bathe his head, thinking of using a dew-drop. What is to be got from him?” And leaving the Great Being, they took each his robes and begging bowl, and went eighteen leagues away, and entered Isipatana (a suburb of Benāres, famous for its schools of learning).

Now at that time, at Uruvela, in the village Senāni, there was a girl named Sujātā, born in the house of Senāni the landowner, who, when she had grown up, prayed to a Nigrodha-tree, saying, “If I am married into a family of equal rank, and have a son for my firstborn child, then I will spend every year a hundred thousand on an offering to thee.” And this her prayer took effect.

And in order to make her offering, on the full-moon day of the month of May, in the sixth year of the Great Being’s penance, she had driven in front of her a thousand cows into a meadow of rich grass. With their milk she had fed five hundred cows, with theirs two hundred and fifty, and so on down to eight. Thus aspiring after quantity, and sweetness, and strength, she did what is called, “Working the milk in and in.”

And early on the full-moon day in the month of May, thinking, “Now I will make the offering,” she rose up in the morning early and milked those eight cows. Of their own accord the calves kept away from the cows’ udders, and as soon as the new vessels were placed ready, streams of milk poured into them. Seeing this miracle, Sujātā, with her own hands, took the milk and poured it into new pans; and with her own hands made the fire and began to cook it. When that rice-milk was boiling, huge bubbles rising, turned to the right and ran round together; not a drop fell or was lost; not the least smoke rose from the fireplace.

At that time the four guardian angels of the world came from the four points of the compass, and kept watch by the fireplace. The archangel Brahma held over it a canopy of state. The archangel Sakka put the sticks together and lighted the fire. By their divine power the gods, gathering so much of the Sap of life as would suffice for the support of all the men and angels of the four continents, and their circumjacent two thousand isles—as easily as a man crushing the honey-comb formed round a stick would take the honey—they infused it into the milk-rice. At other times the gods infused the Sap of life into each mouthful of rice as he took it; but on the day of his Buddhahood, and on the day of his Death, they infused it into the very vessel-full of rice itself.

Sujātā, seeing that so many wonders appeared to her on this one day, said to her slave-girl Puṇṇā, “Friend Puṇṇā! Very gracious is our god to-day! Never before have I seen such a wonder. Go at once and keep watch by the holy place.” “Very good, my lady,” replied she; and ran and hastened to the foot of the tree.

Now the Bodisat had seen that night five dreams, and on considering their purport he had drawn the conclusion, “Verily this day I shall become a Buddha.” And at the end of the night he washed and dressed himself, and waiting till the time should come to go round begging his food, he went early, and sat at the foot of that tree, lighting it all up with his glory.

And Puṇṇā coming there saw the Bodisat sitting at the foot of the tree and lighting up all the region of the East; and she saw the whole tree in colour like gold from the rays issuing from his body. And she thought, “To-day our god, descending from the tree, is seated to receive our offering in his own hand.” And excited with joy, she returned quickly, and announced this to Sujātā. Sujātā, delighted at the news, gave her all the ornaments befitting a daughter, saying, “To-day, from this time forth, be thou to me in the place of an elder daughter!”

And since, on the day of attaining Buddhahood, it is proper to receive a golden vessel worth a hundred thousand, she conceived the idea, “We will put the milk-rice into a vessel of gold.” And sending for a vessel of gold worth a hundred thousand, she poured out the well-cooked food to put it therein. All the rice-milk flowed into the vessel, like water from a lotus leaf, and filled the vessel full. Taking it she covered it with a golden dish, and wrapped it in a cloth. And adorning herself in all her splendour, she put the vessel on her head, and went with great dignity to the Nigrodha-tree. Seeing the Bodisat, she was filled with exceeding joy, taking him for the tree-god; and advanced, bowing, from the spot whence she saw him. Taking the vessel from her head, she uncovered it; and fetching sweet-scented water in a golden vase, she approached the Bodisat, and stood by.

The earthenware pot given him by the archangel Ghaṭikāra, which had never till then left him, disappeared at that moment. Not seeing his pot, the Bodisat stretched out his right hand, and took the water. Sujātā placed the vessel, with the milk-rice in it, in the hand of the Great Being. The Great Being looked at her. Pointing to the food, she said, “O, my lord! accept what I have offered thee, and depart whithersoever seemeth to thee good.” And adding, “May there arise to thee as much joy as has come to me!” she went away, valuing her golden vessel, worth a hundred thousand, at no more than a dried leaf.

But the Bodisat rising from his seat, and leaving the tree on the right hand, took the vessel and went to the bank of the Nerañjara river, down into which on the day of their complete Enlightenment so many thousand Bodisats had gone. The name of that bathing place is the Supatiṭṭhita ferry. Putting the vessel on the bank, he descended into the river and bathed.

And having dressed himself again in the garb of the Arahats worn by so many thousand Buddhas, he sat down with his face to the East; and dividing the rice into forty-nine balls of the size of so many single-seeded Palmyra fruits, he ate all that sweet milk-rice without any water.[200] Now that was the only food he had for forty-nine days, during the seven times seven days he spent, after he became a Buddha, at the foot of the Tree of Wisdom. During all that time he had no other food; he did not bathe; nor wash his teeth; nor feel the cravings of nature. He lived on the joy arising from intense Meditation, on the joy arising from the Noble Path, on the joy arising from the Fruit thereof.

But when he had finished eating that milk-rice, he took the golden vessel, and said, “If I shall be able to-day to become a Buddha, let this pot go up the stream; if not, let it go down the stream!” and he threw it into the water. And it went, in spite of the stream, eighty cubits up the river in the middle of the stream, all the way as quickly as a fleet horse. And diving into a whirlpool it went to the palace of Kāḷa Nāgarāja (the Black Snake King); and striking against the bowls from which the three previous Buddhas had eaten, it made them sound “click! click!” and remained stationary as the lowest of them. Kāḷa, the snake-king, hearing the noise, exclaimed, “Yesterday a Buddha arose, now to-day another has arisen;” and he continued to praise him in many hundred stanzas.

But the Bodisat spent the heat of the day in a grove of sāla-trees in full bloom on the bank of the river. And in the evening, when the flowers droop on the stalks, he proceeded, like a lion when it is roused, towards the Tree of Wisdom, along a path five or six hundred yards wide, decked by the gods. The Snakes, and Genii, and Winged Creatures,[201] and other superhuman beings, offered him sweet-smelling flowers from heaven, and sang heavenly songs. The ten thousand world-systems became filled with perfumes and garlands and shouts of approval.

At that time there came from the opposite direction a grass-cutter named Sotthiya, carrying grass; and recognizing the Great Being, he gave him eight bundles of grass. The Bodisat took the grass; and ascending the rising ground round the Bo-tree, he stood at the South of it, looking towards the North. At that moment the Southern horizon seemed to descend below the level of the lowest hell, and the Northern horizon mounting up seemed to reach above the highest heaven.

The Bodisat, saying, “This cannot, I think, be the right place for attaining Buddhahood,” turned round it, keeping it on the right hand; and went to the Western side, and stood facing the East. Then the Western horizon seemed to descend beneath the lowest hell, and the Eastern horizon to ascend above the highest heaven; and to him, where he was standing, the earth seemed to bend up and down like a great cart wheel lying on its axis when its circumference is trodden on.

The Bodisat, saying, “This cannot, I think, be the right place for attaining Buddhahood,” turned round it, keeping it on the right hand; and went to the Northern side, and stood facing the South. Then the Northern horizon seemed to descend beneath the lowest hell, and the Southern horizon to ascend above the highest heaven.

The Bodisat, saying, “This cannot, I think, be the right place for attaining Buddhahood,” turned round it, keeping it on the right hand; and went to the Western side, and stood facing towards the East. Now in the East is the place where all the Buddhas have sat cross-legged; and that place neither trembles nor shakes.

The Great Being, perceiving, “This is the steadfast spot chosen by all the Buddhas, the spot for the throwing down of the temple of sin,” took hold of the grass by one end, and scattered it there. And immediately there was a seat fourteen cubits long. For those blades of grass arranged themselves in such a form as would be beyond the power of even the ablest painter or carver to design.

The Bodisat turning his back upon the trunk of the Bo-tree, and with his face towards the East, made the firm resolve, “My skin, indeed, and nerves, and bones, may become arid, and the very blood in my body may dry up; but till I attain to complete insight, this seat I will not leave!” And he sat himself down in a cross-legged position, firm and immovable, as if welded with a hundred thunderbolts.

At that time the angel Māra, thinking, “Siddhattha the prince wants to free himself from my dominion. I will not let him get free yet!” went to the hosts of his angels, and told the news. And sounding the drum, called “Satan’s War-cry,” he led forth the army of Satan.

That army of Māra stretches twelve leagues before him, twelve leagues to right and left of him, behind him it reaches to the rocky limits of the world, above him it is nine leagues in height; and the sound of its war-cry is heard, twelve leagues away, even as the sound of an earthquake.

Then Māra, the angel, mounted his elephant, two hundred and fifty leagues high, named, “Girded with mountains.” And he created for himself a thousand arms, and seized all kinds of weapons. And of the remainder, too, of the army of Māra, no two took the same weapon; but assuming various colours and various forms, they went on to overwhelm the Great Being.

But the angels of the ten thousand world-systems continued speaking the praises of the Great Being. Sakka, the king of the angels, stood there blowing his trumpet Vijayuttara. Now that trumpet is a hundred and twenty cubits long, and can itself cause the wind to enter, and thus itself give forth a sound which will resound for four months, when it becomes still. The Great Black One, the king of the Nāgas, stood there uttering his praises in many hundred stanzas. The archangel Mahā Brahma stood there, holding over him the white canopy of state. But as the army approached and surrounded the seat under the Bo-tree, not one of the angels was able to stay, and they fled each one from the spot where the army met them. The Black One, the king of the Nāgas, dived into the earth, and went to Mañjerika, the palace of the Nāgas, five hundred leagues in length, and lay down, covering his face with his hands. Sakka, taking the Vijayuttara trumpet on his back, stopped on the rocky verge of the world. Mahā Brahma, putting the white canopy of state on to the summit of the rocks at the end of the earth, went to the world of Brahma. Not a single deity was able to keep his place. The Great Being sat there alone.

But Māra said to his host, “Friends! there is no other man like Siddhattha, the son of Suddhodana. We cannot give him battle face to face. Let us attack him from behind!” The Great Being looked round on three sides, and saw that all the gods had fled, and their place was empty. Then beholding the hosts of Māra coming thick upon him from the North, he thought, “Against me alone this mighty host is putting forth all its energy and strength. No father is here, nor mother, nor brother, nor any other relative to help me. But those ten cardinal virtues have long been to me as retainers fed from my store. So, making the virtues my shield, I must strike this host with the sword of virtue, and thus overwhelm it!” And so he sat meditating on the Ten Perfections.[202]

Then Māra the angel, saying, “Thus will I drive away Siddhattha,” caused a whirlwind to blow. And immediately such winds rushed together from the four corners of the earth as could have torn down the peaks of mountains half a league, two leagues, three leagues high—could have rooted up the shrubs and trees of the forest—and could have made of the towns and villages around one heap of ruins. But through the majesty of the goodness of the Great Being, they reached him with their power gone, and even the hem of his robe they were unable to shake.

Then saying, “I will overwhelm him with water and so slay him,” he caused a mighty rain to fall. And the clouds gathered, overspreading one another by hundreds and by thousands, and poured forth rain; and by the violence of the torrents the earth was saturated; and a great flood, overtopping the trees of the forest, approached the Great Being. But it was not able to wet on his robe even the space where a dew-drop might fall.

Then he caused a storm of rocks to fall. And mighty, mighty, mountain peaks came through the air, spitting forth fire and smoke. But as they reached the Great Being, they changed into bouquets of heavenly flowers.

Then he raised a storm of deadly weapons. And they came—one-edged, and two-edged swords, and spears, and arrows—smoking and flaming through the sky. But as they reached the Great Being, they became flowers from heaven.

Then he raised a storm of charcoal. But the embers, though they came through the sky as red as red Kiŋsuka flowers, were scattered at the feet of the future Buddha as heavenly flowers.

Then he raised a storm of ashes; and the ashes came through the air exceeding hot, and in colour like fire; but they fell at the feet of the future Buddha as the dust of sandal-wood.

Then he raised a storm of sand; and the sand, exceeding fine, came smoking and flaming through the air; but it fell at the feet of the future Buddha as heavenly flowers.

Then he raised a storm of mud. And the mud came smoking and flaming through the air; but it fell at the feet of the future Buddha as heavenly perfume.

Then saying, “By this I will terrify Siddhattha, and drive him away!” he brought on a thick darkness. And the darkness became fourfold: but when it reached the future Buddha, it disappeared as darkness does before the brightness of the sun.

Thus was Māra unable by these nine—the wind, and the rain, and the rocks, and the weapons, and the charcoal, and the ashes, and the sand, and the mud, and the darkness—to drive away the future Buddha. So he called on his host, and said, “Why stand you still? Seize, or slay, or drive away this prince!” And himself mounted the Mountain-girded, and seated on his back, he approached the future Buddha, and cried out, “Get up, Siddhattha, from that seat! It does not belong to thee! It is meant for me!”

The Great Being listened to his words, and said, “Māra! it is not by you that the Ten Cardinal Virtues have been perfected, nor the lesser Virtues, nor the higher Virtues. It is not you who have sacrificed yourself in the five great Acts of Self-renunciation, who have diligently sought after Knowledge, and the Salvation of the world, and the attainment of Wisdom. This seat does not belong to thee, it is to me that it belongs.”

Then the enraged Māra, unable to endure the vehemence of his anger, cast at the Great Being that Sceptre-javelin of his, the barb of which was in shape as a wheel. But it became a garland of flowers, and remained as a canopy over him, whose mind was bent upon good.

Now at other times, when that Wicked One throws his Sceptre-javelin, it cleaves asunder a pillar of solid rock as if it were the tender shoot of a bambū. When, however, it thus turned into a garland-canopy, all the host of Māra shouted, “Now he shall rise from his seat and flee!” and they hurled at him huge masses of rock. But these too fell on the ground as bouquets at the feet of Him whose mind was bent upon good!

And the angels stood on the edge of the rocks that encircle the world; and stretching forwards in amazement, they looked on, saying, “Lost! lost is Siddhattha the Prince, the glorious and beautiful! What can he do to save himself!”

Then the Great Being exclaimed, “I have reached the throne on which sit the Buddhas-to-be when they are perfect in all goodness, on that day when they shall reach Enlightenment.”

And he said to Māra, standing there before him, “Māra, who is witness that thou hast given alms?”

And Māra stretched forth his hand to the hosts of his followers, and said, “So many are my witnesses.”

And that moment there arose a shout as the sound of an earthquake from the hosts of the Evil One, saying, “I am his witness! I am his witness!”

Then the Tempter addressed the Great Being, and said, “Siddhattha! who is witness that thou hast given alms?”

And the Great Being answered, “Thou hast living witnesses that thou hast given alms: and I have in this place no living witness at all. But not counting the alms I have given in other births, let this great and solid earth, unconscious though it be, be witness of the seven hundredfold great alms I gave when I was born as Wessantara!”

And withdrawing his right hand from beneath his robe, he stretched it forth towards the earth, and said, “Are you, or are you not witness of the seven hundredfold great gift I gave in my birth as Wessantara?”

And the great Earth uttered a voice, saying, “I am witness to thee of that!” overwhelming as it were the hosts of the Evil One as with the shout of hundreds of thousands of foes.

Then the mighty elephant “Girded with mountains,” as he realized what the generosity of Wessantara had been, fell down on his knees before the Great Being. And the army of Māra fled this way and that way, so that not even two were left together: throwing off their clothes and their turbans, they fled, each one straight on before him.

But the heavenly hosts, when they saw that the army of Māra had fled, cried out, “The Tempter is overcome! Siddhattha the Prince has prevailed! Come, let us honour the Victor!” And the Nāgas, and the Winged Creatures, and the Angels, and the Archangels, each urging his comrades on, went up to the Great Being at the Bo-tree’s foot, and as they came,

274. At the Bo-tree’s foot the Nāga bands

Shouted, for joy that the Sage had won;

“The Blessed Buddha—he hath prevailed!

And the Tempter is overthrown!”

275. At the Bo-tree’s foot the Winged Ones

Shouted, for joy that the Sage had won;

“The Blessed Buddha—he hath prevailed!

And the Tempter is overthrown!”

276. At the Bo-tree’s foot the Angel hosts

Shouted, for joy that the Sage had won;

“The Blessed Buddha—he hath prevailed!

And the Tempter is overthrown!”

277. At the Bo-tree’s foot the Brahma Gods

Shouted, for joy that the Sage had won;

“The Blessed Buddha—he hath prevailed!

And the Tempter is overthrown!”

The other gods, too, in the ten thousand world-systems, offered garlands and perfumes and uttered his praises aloud.

It was while the sun was still above the horizon, that the Great Being thus put to flight the army of the Evil One. Then, whilst the Bo-tree paid him homage, as it were, by its shoots like sprigs of red coral falling over his robe, he acquired in the first watch of the night the Knowledge of the Past, in the middle watch the Knowledge of the Present, and in the third watch the Knowledge of the Chain of Causation which leads to the Origin of Evil.[203]

Now on his thus revolving this way and that way, and tracing backwards and forwards, and thoroughly realizing the twelvefold Chain of Causation, the ten thousand world-systems quaked twelve times even to their ocean boundaries. And again, when the Great Being, making the ten thousand world-systems to shout for joy, attained at break of day to complete Enlightenment, the whole ten thousand world-systems became glorious as on a festive day. The streamers of the flags and banners raised on the edge of the rocky boundary to the East of the world reached to the very West; and so those on the West and North, and South, reached to the East, and South, and North; while in like manner those of flags and banners on the surface of the earth reached to the highest heaven, and those of flags and banners in heaven swept down upon the earth. Throughout the universe flowering trees put forth their blossoms, and fruit-bearing trees were loaded with clusters of fruit; the trunks and branches of trees, and even the creepers, were covered with bloom; lotus wreaths hung from the sky; and lilies by sevens sprang, one above another, even from the very rocks. The ten thousand world-systems as they revolved seemed like a mass of loosened wreaths, or like a nosegay tastefully arranged: and the great Voids between them, the hells whose darkness the rays of seven suns had never been able to disperse, became filled with light. The waters of the Great Ocean became sweet, down to its profoundest depths; and the rivers were stayed in their course. The blind from birth received their sight; the deaf from birth heard sound; the lame from birth could use their feet; and chains and bonds were loosed, and fell away.[204]

It was thus in surpassing glory and honour, and with many wonders happening around, that he attained Omniscience, and gave vent to his emotion in the Hymn of Triumph, sung by all the Buddhas.

278. Long have I wandered! long!

Bound by the Chain of Life,

Through many births:

Seeking thus long, in vain,

“Whence comes this Life in man, his Consciousness, his Pain!”

And hard to bear is Birth,

When pain and death but lead to Birth again.

Found! It is found!

O Cause of Individuality!

No longer shalt thou make a house for me:

Broken are all thy beams.

Thy ridge-pole shattered!

Into Nirvāna now my mind has past:

The end of cravings has been reached at last![205]

---

THE PROXIMATE OR LAST EPOCH.[206]

Now whilst he was still seated there, after he had sung the Hymn of Triumph, the Blessed One thought, “It is in order to attain to this throne of triumph that I have undergone successive births for so long a time,[207] that I severed my crowned head from my neck and gave it away, that I tore out my darkened eyes and my heart’s flesh and gave them away, that I gave away to serve others such sons as Jāli the Prince, and such daughters as Kaṇhā Jinā the Princess, and such wives as Maddī the Queen. This seat is a throne of triumph to me, and a throne of glory; while seated on it my aims have been fulfilled: I will not leave it, yet.” And he sat there absorbed in many thoughts[208] for those seven days referred to in the text, beginning, “And then the Blessed One sat motionless for seven days, realizing the bliss of Nirvāna.”

Now certain of the angels began to doubt, thinking, “There must be something more Siddhattha has to do this day, for he still lingers seated there.” The Master, knowing their thoughts, and to appease their doubts, rose into the air, and performed the miracle of making another appearance like unto himself.[209]

And the Master having thus by this miracle dispelled the angels’ doubts, stood a little to the North-east of the throne, thinking, “It was on that throne that I attained omniscience.” And he thus spent seven days gazing steadfastly at the spot where he had gained the result of the deeds of virtue fulfilled through such countless years. And that spot became known as the Dāgaba of the Steadfast Gaze.

Then he created between the throne and the spot where he had stood a cloistered walk, and he spent seven days walking up and down in that jewelled cloister which stretched from East to West. And that spot became known as the Dāgaba of the Jewelled Cloister.

But for the fourth week the angels created to the North-west of the Bo-tree a house of gems; and he spent the week seated there cross-legged, and thinking out the Abhidhamma Pitaka both book by book and generally in respect of the origin of all things as therein explained. (But the Abhidhammikas[210] say that House of Gems here means either a mansion built of the seven kinds of jewels, or the place where the seven books were thought out: and as they give these two explanations of the passage, both should be accepted as correct.)

Having thus spent four weeks close to the Bo-tree, he went, in the fifth week, to the Shepherd’s Nigrodha-tree: and sat there meditating on the Truth, and enjoying the sweetness of Nirvāna.[211]

Now at that time the angel Māra thought to himself, “So long a time have I followed this man seeking some fault in him, and find no sin in him; and now, indeed, he is beyond my power.” And overcome with sorrow he sat down on the highway, and as he thought of the following sixteen things he drew sixteen lines on the ground. Thinking, “I did not attain, as he did, to the perfection of Charity; therefore I have not become like him,” he drew one line. Then thinking, “I did not attain, as he did, to the Perfections of Goodness, and Self-sacrifice, and Wisdom, and Exertion, and Longsuffering, and Truth, and Resolution, and Kindness, and Equanimity;[212] therefore I have not become like him,” he drew nine more lines. Then thinking, “I did not attain the Ten Perfections, the conditions precedent to the acquisition of the extraordinary knowledge of objects of sense, and therefore I have not become like him,” he drew the eleventh line. Then thinking, “I did not attain to the Ten Perfections, the conditions precedent to the acquisition of the extraordinary knowledge of inclinations and dispositions, of the attainment of compassion, of the double miracle, of the removal of hindrances, and of omniscience; therefore I have not become like him,” he drew the five other lines. And so he sat on the highway, drawing sixteen lines for these sixteen thoughts.

At that time Craving, Discontent, and Lust,[213] the three daughters of Māra, could not find their father, and were looking for him, wondering where he could be. And when they saw him, sad at heart, writing on the ground, they went up to him, and asked, “Why, dear, are you sad and sorrowful?”

And he answered, “Beloved, this illustrious mendicant is escaping from my power. Long have I watched, but in vain, to find some fault in him. Therefore it is that I am sad and sorrowful.”

“Be that as it may,” replied they, “think not so. We will subject him to our influence, and come back bringing him captive with us.”

“Beloved,” said he, “you cannot by any means bring him under your influence; he stands firm in faith, unwavering.”

“But we are women,” was the reply; “this moment we will bring him bound by the allurements of passion. Do not you be so grieved.”

So they approached the Blessed One, and said, “O, holy man, upon thee we humbly wait!”

But the Blessed One neither paid any attention to their words, nor raised his eyes to look at them. He sat plunged in the joy of Nirvāna, with a mind made free by the complete extinction of sin.

Then the daughters of Māra considered with themselves: “Various are men’s tastes. Some fall in love with virgins, some with young women, some with mature women, some with older women. We will tempt him in various forms.” So each of them assumed the appearance of a hundred women,—virgins, women who had never had a child, or only once, or only twice, middle-aged women, older women,—and six times they went up to the Blessed One, and professed themselves his humble handmaidens; and to that even the Blessed One paid no attention, since he was made free by the complete extinction of sin.

Now, some teachers say that when the Blessed One saw them approaching in the form of elderly women, he commanded, saying, “Let these women remain just as they are, with broken teeth and bald heads.” This should not be believed, for the Master issues not such commands.

But the Blessed One said, “Depart ye! Why strive ye thus? Such things might be done in the presence of men who linger in the paths of sin; but I have put away lust, have put away ill-will, have put away folly.” And he admonished them in those two verses from the Chapter on the Buddha in the Scripture-Verses:

280. No one can e’er disturb his self-control

Whose inward victories, once gained, are neverlost.

That Sinless One, the Wise, whose mind embraces all—

How—by what guile—what sin—can you allure him to his fall?

281. He who has no ensnaring, venomous desire;

No craving wants to lead him aught astray:

The Sinless One, the Wise, whose mind embraces all—

How—by what guile—what sin—can you allure him to his fall?[214]

And thus these women returned to their father, confessing that he had spoken truth when he had said that the Blessed One was not by any means to be led away by any unholy desire.

But the Blessed One, when he had spent a week at that spot, went on to the Mucalinda-tree. There he spent a week, Mucalinda, the snake-king, when a storm arose, shielding him with seven folds of his hood, so that the Blessed One enjoyed the bliss of salvation as if he had been resting in a pleasant chamber, remote from all disturbance. Thence he went away to a Rājāyatana-tree, and there also sat down enjoying the bliss of salvation. And so seven weeks passed away, during which he experienced no bodily wants, but fed on the joy of Meditation, the joy of the Paths, and the joy of the Fruit thereof (that is, of Nirvāna).[215]

Now, as he sat there on the last day of the seven weeks—the forty-ninth day—he felt a desire to bathe his face. And Sakka, the king of the gods, brought a fruit of the Myrobolan-tree, and gave him to eat. And Sakka, too, provided a tooth-cleanser of the thorns of the snake-creeper, and water to bathe his face. And the Master used the tooth-cleanser, and bathed his face, and sat him down there at the foot of the tree.

At that time two merchants, Tapassu and Bhalluka by name, were travelling from Orissa to Central India[216] with five hundred carts. And an angel, a blood relation of theirs, stopped their carts, and moved their hearts to offer food to the Master. And they took a rice cake, and a honey cake, and went up to the Master, and said, “O, Blessed One! have mercy upon us, and accept this food.”

Now, on the day when he had received the sweet rice-milk, his bowl had disappeared;[217] so the Blessed One thought, “The Buddhas never receive food in their hands. How shall I take it?” Then the four Guardian Angels knew his thought, and, coming from the four corners of heaven, they brought bowls made of sapphire. And the Blessed One accepted them. Then they brought four other bowls, made of jet; and the Blessed One, out of kindness to the four angels, received the four, and, placing them one above another, commanded, saying, “Let them become one.” And the four closed up into one of medium size, becoming visible only as lines round the mouth of it. The Blessed One received the food into that new-created bowl, and ate it, and gave thanks.

The two brothers took refuge in the Buddha, the Truth, and the Order, and became professed disciples. Then, when they asked him, saying, “Lord, bestow upon us something to which we may pay reverence,” with his own right hand he tore from his head, and gave to them, the Hair-relics. And they built a Dāgaba in their own city, and placed the relics within it.[218]

But the Perfectly Enlightened One rose up thence, and returned to the Shepherd’s Nigrodha-tree, and sat down at its foot. And no sooner was he seated there, considering the depth of the Truth which he had gained, than there arose in his mind a doubt (felt by each of the Buddhas as he became aware of his having arrived at Truth) that he had not that kind of ability necessary to explain that Truth to others.

Then the great Ruler of the Brahma heavens, exclaiming, “Alas! the world is lost! Alas! the world will be altogether lost!” brought with him the rulers and archangels of the heavens in tens of thousands of world-systems, and went up to the Master, and said, “O Blessed Lord, mayst thou proclaim the Truth! Proclaim the Truth, O Blessed Lord!” and in other words of like purport begged from him the preaching of the Truth.

Then the Master granted his request. And considering to whom he should first reveal the Truth, thought at first of Aḷāra, his former teacher, as one who would quickly comprehend it. But, on further reflection, he perceived that Aḷāra had been dead seven days. So he fixed on Uddaka, but perceived that he too had died that very evening. Then he thought of the five mendicants, how faithfully they had served him for a time; and casting about in his mind where they then might be, he perceived they were at the Deer-forest in Benares. And he determined, saying, “There I will go to inaugurate the Kingdom of Righteousness.” But he delayed a few days, begging his daily food in the neighbourhood of the Bo-tree, with the intention of going to Benares on the full-moon day of the month of May.

And at dawn of the fourteenth day of the month, when the night had passed away, he took his robe and his bowl; and had gone eighteen leagues, just half way, when he met the Hindu mendicant Upaka. And he announced to him how he had become a Buddha; and on the evening of that day he arrived at the hermitage near Benares.[219]

The five mendicants, seeing already from afar the Buddha coming, said one to another, “Friend, here comes the mendicant Gotama. He has turned back to a free use of the necessaries of life, and has recovered roundness of form, acuteness of sense, and beauty of complexion. We ought to pay him no reverence; but as he is, after all, of a good family, he deserves the honour of a seat. So we will simply prepare a seat for him.”

The Blessed One, casting about in his mind (by the power that he had of knowing what was going on in the thoughts of all beings) as to what they were thinking, knew their thoughts. Then, concentrating that feeling of his love which was able to pervade generally all beings in earth and heaven, he directed it specially towards them. And the sense of his love diffused itself through their hearts; and as he came nearer and nearer, unable any longer to adhere to their resolve, they rose from their seats, and bowed down before him, and welcomed him with every mark of reverence and respect. But, not knowing that he had become a Buddha, they addressed him, in everything they said, either by name, or as “Brother.” Then the Blessed One announced to them his Buddhahood, saying, “O mendicants, address not a Buddha by his name, or as ‘brother.’ And I, O mendicants, am a Buddha, clear in insight, as those who have gone before.”[220]

Then, seated on the place prepared for him, and surrounded by myriads of angels, he addressed the five attendant elders, just as the moon was passing out of conjunction with the lunar mansion in June, and taught them in that discourse which was The Foundation of the Kingdom of Righteousness.

Of the five Elders, Kondanya the Believer[221] gained in knowledge as the discourse went on; and as it concluded, he, with myriads of angels, had arrived at the Fruit of the First Path.[222] And the Master, who remained there for the rainy season, sat in the wihāra the next day, when the other four had gone a-begging, talking to Vappa: and Vappa that morning attained to the Fruit of the First Path. And, in a similar manner, Bhaddiya on the next day, and Mahā Nāma on the next, and Assaji on the next, attained to the Fruit of the First Path. And, on the fifth day, he called all five to his side, and preached to them the discourse On the Non-existence of the Soul; and at the end of that discourse all the five elders attained to Nirvāna.

Then the Master perceived that Yasa, a young man of good family, was capable of entering the Paths. And at night-time, as he was going away, having left his home in weariness of the world, the Master called him, saying, “Follow me, Yasa!” and on that very night he attained to the Fruit of the First Path, and on the next day to Arahatship. And He received also the other fifty-four, his companions, into the order, with the formula, “Follow me!” and caused them to attain to Arahatship.

Now when there were thus in the world sixty-one persons who had become Arahats, the Master, after the rainy season and the Feast with which it closes were over, sent out the sixty in different directions, with the words, “Go forth, O mendicants, preaching and teaching.” And himself going towards Uruvela, overcame at the Kappāsiya forest, half way thither, the thirty young Bhadda-vaggiyan nobles. Of these the least advanced entered the First, and the most advanced the Third Path: and he received them all into the Order with the formula, “Follow me!” And sending them also forth into the regions round about, he himself went on to Uruvela.

There he overcame, by performing three thousand five hundred miracles, the three Hindu ascetics, brothers,—Uruvela Kassapa and the rest,—who had one thousand disciples. And he received them into the Order with the formula, “Follow me!” and established them in Arahatship by his discourse, when they were seated on the Gayā-sīsa hill, “On the Lessons to be drawn from Fire.” And attended by these thousand Arahats, he went to the grove called the Palm-grove, hard by Rājagaha, with the object of redeeming the promise he had made to Bimbī-sāra the king.[223]

When the king heard from the keeper of the grove the saying, “The Master is come,” he went to the Master, attended by innumerable priests and nobles, and fell down at the feet of the Buddha,—those sacred feet, which bore on their surface the mystic figure of the sacred wheel, and gave forth a halo of light like a canopy of cloth of gold. Then he and his retinue respectfully took their seats on one side.

Now the question occurred to those priests and nobles, “How is it, then? has the Great Mendicant entered as a student in religion under Uruvela Kassapa, or Uruvela Kassapa under the Great Mendicant?” And the Blessed One, becoming aware of their thus doubting within themselves, addressed the Elder in the verse—

282. What hast thou seen, O dweller in Uruvela,

That thou hast abandoned the Fire God, counting thyself poor?

I ask thee, Kassapa, the meaning of this thing:

How is it thou hast given up the sacrifice of fire?

And the Elder, perceiving what the Blessed One intended, replied in the verse—

283. Some men rely on sights, and sounds, and taste,

Others on sensual love, and some on sacrifice;

But this, I see, is dross so long as sin remains.

Therefore I find no charm in offerings great or small.

And (in order to make known his discipleship) he bowed his head to the Buddha’s feet, saying, “The Blessed Lord is my master, and I am the disciple!” And seven times he rose into the air up to the height of one, two, three, and so on, up to the height of seven palm-trees; and descending again, he saluted the Buddha, and respectfully took a seat aside. Seeing that wonder, the multitude praised the Master, saying, “Ah! how great is the power of the Buddhas! Even so mighty an infidel as this has thought him worthy! Even Uruvela Kassapa has broken through the net of delusion, and has yielded to the successor of the Buddhas!”

But the Blessed One said, “Not now only have I overcome Uruvela Kassapa; in former ages, too, he was conquered by me.” And he uttered in that connexion the Mahā Nārada Kassapa Jātaka, and proclaimed the Four Truths. And the king of Magadha, with nearly all his retinue, attained to the Fruit of the First Path, and the rest became lay disciples (without entering the Paths).[224]

And the king still sitting near the Master told him of the five wishes he had had; and then, confessing his faith, he invited the Blessed One for the next day, and rising from his side, departed with respectful salutation.

The next day all the men who dwelt in Rājagaha, eighteen koṭis in number, both those who had already seen the Blessed One, and those who had not, came out early from Rājagaha to the Grove of Reeds to see the successor of the Buddhas. The road, six miles long, could not contain them. The whole of the Grove of Reeds became like a basket packed quite full. The multitude, beholding the exceeding beauty of Him whose power is Wisdom, could not contain their delight. Vaṇṇabhū was it called (that is, the Place of Praise), for at such spots all the greater and lesser characteristics of a Buddha, and the glorious beauty of his person, are fated to be sung. There was not room for even a single mendicant to get out on the road, or in the grove, so crowded was it with the multitude gazing at the beautiful form of the Being endowed with the tenfold power of Wisdom.

So that day they say the throne of Sakka felt hot, to warn him that the Blessed One might be deprived of nourishment, which should not be. And, on consideration, he understood the reason; and he took the form of a young Brāhman, and descended in front of the Buddha, and made way for him, singing the praises of the Buddha, the Truth, and the Order. And he walked in front, magnifying the Master in these verses:

284. He whose passions are subdued has come to Rājagaha

Glorious as Singī gold,—the Blessed One;

And with him those who once were mere ascetics,

Now all subdued in heart and freed from sin.

285. He who is free from sin has come to Rājagaha

Glorious as Singī gold,—the Blessed One;

And with him those who once were mere ascetics,

Now freed from sin and saved.

286. He who has crossed the flood[225] has come to Rājagaha

Glorious as Singī gold,—the Blessed One;

And with him those who once were mere ascetics,

But now crossed o’er the flood and freed from sin.

287. He whose dwelling and whose wisdom are tenfold;

He who has seen and gained ten precious things;[226]

Attended by ten hundred as a retinue,—

The Blessed One,—has come to Rājagaha.

The multitude, seeing the beauty of the young Brāhman, thought, “This young Brāhman is exceeding fair, and yet we have never yet beheld him.” And they said, “Whence comes the young Brāhman, or whose son is he?” And the young Brāhman, hearing what they said, answered in the verse,

288. He who is wise, and all subdued in heart,

The Buddha, the unequalled among men,

The Arahat, the most happy upon earth!—

His servant am I.

Then the Master entered upon the path thus made free by the Archangel, and entered Rājagaha attended by a thousand mendicants. The king gave a great donation to the Order with the Buddha at their head; and had water brought, bright as gems, and scented with flowers, in a golden goblet. And he poured the water over the hand of the Buddha, in token of the presentation of the Bambu Grove, saying, “I, my lord, cannot live without the Three Gems (the Buddha, the Order, and the Faith). In season and out of season I would visit the Blessed One. Now the Grove of Reeds is far away; but this Grove of mine, called the Bambu Grove, is close by, is easy of resort, and is a fit dwelling-place for a Buddha. Let the Blessed One accept it of me!”

At the acceptance of this monastery the broad earth shook, as if it said, “Now the Religion of Buddha has taken root!” For in all India there is no dwelling-place, save the Bambu Grove, whose acceptance caused the earth to shake: and in Ceylon there is no dwelling-place, save the Great Wihāra, whose acceptance caused the earth to shake.

And when the Master had accepted the Bambu Grove Monastery, and had given thanks for it, he rose from his seat and went, surrounded by the members of the Order, to the Bambu Grove.

Now at that time two ascetics, named Sāriputta and Moggallāna, were living near Rājagaha, seeking after salvation. Of these, Sāriputta, seeing the Elder Assaji on his begging round, was pleasurably impressed by him, and waited on him, and heard from him the verse beginning,—

“What things soever are produced from causes.”[227]

And he attained to the blessings which result from conversion; and repeated that verse to his companion Moggallāna the ascetic. And he, too, attained to the blessings which first result from conversion. And each of them left Sanjaya,[228] and with his attendants took orders under the Master. Of these two, Moggallāna attained Arahatship in seven days, and Sāriputta the Elder in half a month. And the Master appointed these two to the office of his Chief Disciples; and on the day on which Sāriputta the Elder attained Arahatship, he held the so-called Council of the Disciples.[229]

Now whilst the Successor of the Buddhas was dwelling there in the Bambu Grove, Suddhodana the king heard that his son, who for six years had devoted himself to works of self-mortification, had attained to Complete Enlightenment, had founded the Kingdom of Righteousness, and was then dwelling at the Bambu Grove near Rājagaha. So he said to a certain courtier, “Look you, Sir; take a thousand men as a retinue, and go to Rājagaha, and say in my name, ‘Your father, Suddhodana the king, desires to see you;’ and bring my son here.”

And he respectfully accepted the king’s command with the reply, “So be it, O king!” and went quickly with a thousand followers the sixty leagues distance, and sat down amongst the disciples of the Sage, and at the hour of instruction entered the Wihāra. And thinking, “Let the king’s message stay awhile,” he stood just beyond the disciples and listened to the discourse. And as he so stood he attained to Arahatship, with his whole retinue, and asked to be admitted to the Order. And the Blessed One stretched forth his hand and said, “Come among us, O mendicants.” And all of them that moment appeared there, with robes and bowls created by miracle, like Elders of a hundred years’ standing.

Now from the time when they attain Arahatship the Arahats become indifferent to worldly things: so he did not deliver the king’s message to the Sage. The king, seeing that neither did his messenger return, nor was any message received from him, called another courtier in the same manner as before, and sent him. And he went, and in the same manner attained Arahatship with his followers, and remained silent. Then the king in the same manner sent nine courtiers each with a retinue of a thousand men. And they all, neglecting what they had to do, stayed away there in silence.

And when the king found no one who would come and bring even a message, he thought, “Not one of these brings back, for my sake, even a message: who will then carry out what I say?” And searching among all his people he thought of Kāḷa Udāyin. For he was in everything serviceable to the king,—intimate with him, and trustworthy. He was born on the same day as the future Buddha, and had been his playfellow and companion.

So the king said to him, “Friend Kāḷa Udāyin, as I wanted to see my son, I sent nine times a thousand men; but there is not one of them who has either come back or sent a message. Now the end of my life is not far off, and I desire to see my son before I die. Can you help me to see my son?”

“I can, O king!” was the reply, “if I am allowed to become a recluse.”

“My friend,” said the king, “become a recluse or not as you will, but help me to see my son!”

And he respectfully received the king’s message, with the words, “So be it, O king!” and went to Rājagaha; and stood at the edge of the disciples at the time of the Master’s instruction, and heard the gospel, and attained Arahatship with his followers, and was received into the Order.

The Master spent the first Lent after he had become Buddha at Isipatana; and when it was over went to Uruvela and stayed there three months and overcame the three brothers, ascetics. And on the full-moon day of the month of January, he went to Rājagaha with a retinue of a thousand mendicants, and there he dwelt two months. Thus five months had elapsed since he left Benāres, the cold season was past, and seven or eight days since the arrival of Udāyin, the Elder.

And on the full-moon day of March Udāyin thought, “The cold season is past; the spring has come; men raise their crops and set out on their journeys; the earth is covered with fresh grass; the woods are full of flowers; the roads are fit to walk on; now is the time for the Sage to show favour to his family.” And going to the Blessed One, he praised travelling in about sixty stanzas, that the Sage might revisit his native town.

289. Red are the trees with blossoms bright,

They give no shade to him who seeks for fruit;

Brilliant they seem as glowing fires.

The very season’s full, O Great One, of delights.

290. ‘Tis not too hot; ‘tis not too cold;

There’s plenty now of all good things;

The earth is clad with verdure green,

Fit is the time, O mighty Sage!

Then the Master said to him, “But why, Udāyin, do you sing the pleasures of travelling with so sweet a voice?”

“My lord!” was the reply, “your father is anxious to see you once more; will you not show favour to your relations?”

“’Tis well said, Udāyin! I will do so. Tell the Order that they shall fulfil the duty laid on all its members of journeying from place to place.”

Kāḷa Udāyin accordingly told the brethren. And the Blessed One, attended by twenty thousand mendicants free from sin—ten thousand from the upper classes in Magadha and Anga, and ten thousand from the upper classes in Kapilavatthu—started from Rājagaha, and travelled a league a day; going slowly with the intention of reaching Kapilavatthu, sixty leagues from Rājagaha, in two months.

And the Elder, thinking, “I will let the king know that the Blessed One has started,” rose into the air and appeared in the king’s house. The king was glad to see the Elder, made him sit down on a splendid couch, filled a bowl with the delicious food made ready for himself, and gave to him. Then the Elder rose up, and made as if he would go away.

“Sit down and eat,” said the king.

“I will rejoin the Master, and eat then,” said he.

“Where is the Master now?” asked the king.

“He has set out on his journey, attended by twenty thousand mendicants, to see you, O king!” said he.

The king, glad at heart, said, “Do you eat this; and until my son has arrived at this town, provide him with food from here.”

The Elder agreed; and the king waited on him, and then had the bowl cleansed with perfumed chunam, and filled with the best of food, and placed it in the Elder’s hand, saying, “Give it to the Buddha.”

And the Elder, in the sight of all, threw the bowl into the air, and himself rising up into the sky, took the food again, and placed it in the hand of the Master.

The Master ate it. Every day the Elder brought him food in the same manner. So the Master himself was fed, even on the journey, from the king’s table. The Elder, day by day, when he had finished his meal, told the king, “To-day the Blessed One has come so far, to-day so far.” And by talking of the high character of the Buddha, he made all the king’s family delighted with the Master, even before they saw him. On that account the Blessed One gave him pre-eminence, saying, “Pre-eminent, O mendicants, among all those of my disciples who gained over my family, was Kāḷa Udāyin.”

The Sākyas, as they sat talking of the prospect of seeing their distinguished relative, considered what place he could stay in; and deciding that the Nigrodha Grove would be a pleasant residence, they made everything ready there. And with flowers in their hands they went out to meet him; and sending in front the little children, and the boys and girls of the village, and then the young men and maidens of the royal family; they themselves, decked of their own accord with sweet-smelling flowers and chunam, came close behind, conducting the Blessed One to the Nigrodha Grove. There the Blessed One sat down on the Buddha’s throne prepared for him, surrounded by twenty thousand Arahats.

The Sākyas are proud by nature, and stubborn in their pride. Thinking, “Siddhattha is younger than we are, standing to us in the relation of younger brother, or nephew, or son, or grandson,” they said to the little children and the young people, “Do you bow down before him, we will seat ourselves behind you.” The Blessed One, when they had thus taken their seats, perceived what they meant; and thinking, “My relations pay me no reverence; come now, I must force them to do so,” he fell into the ecstasy depending on wisdom, and rising into the air as if shaking off the dust of his feet upon them, he performed a miracle like unto that double miracle at the foot of the Gaṇḍamba-tree.[230]

The king, seeing that miracle, said, “O Blessed One! When you were presented to Kāḷa Devala to do obeisance to him on the day on which you were born, and I saw your feet turn round and place themselves on the Brāhman’s head, I did obeisance to you. That was my first obeisance. When you were seated on your couch in the shade of the Jambu-tree on the day of the ploughing festival, I saw how the shadow over you did not turn, and I bowed down at your feet. That was my second obeisance. Now, seeing this unprecedented miracle, I bow down at your feet. This is my third obeisance.”

Then, when the king did obeisance to him, there was not a single Sākya who was able to refrain from bowing down before the Blessed One; and all of them did obeisance.

So the Blessed One, having compelled his relatives to bow down before him, descended from the sky, and sat down on the seat prepared for him. And when the Blessed One was seated, the assembly of his relatives yielded him pre-eminence; and all sat there at peace in their hearts.

Then a thunder-cloud poured forth a shower of rain, and the copper-coloured water went away rumbling beneath the earth. He who wished to get wet, did get wet; but not even a drop fell on the body of him who did not wish to get wet. And all seeing it became filled with astonishment, and said one to another, “Lo! what miracle! Lo! what wonder!”

But the Teacher said, “Not now only did a shower of rain fall upon me in the assembly of my relations, formerly also this happened.” And in this connexion he pronounced the story of his Birth as Wessantara.

When they had heard his discourse they rose up, and paid reverence to him, and went away. Not one of them, either the king or any of his ministers, asked him on leaving, “To-morrow accept your meal of us.”

So on the next day the Master, attended by twenty thousand mendicants, entered Kapilavatthu to beg. Then also no one came to him or invited him to his house, or took his bowl. The Blessed One, standing at the gate, considered, “How then did the former Buddhas go on their begging rounds in their native town? Did they go direct to the houses of the kings, or did they beg straight on from house to house?” Then, not finding that any of the Buddhas had gone direct, he thought, “I, too, must accept this descent and tradition as my own; so shall my disciples in future, learning of me, fulfil the duty of begging for their daily food.” And beginning at the first house, he begged straight on.

At the rumour that the young chief Siddhattha was begging from door to door, the windows in the two-storied and three-storied houses were thrown open, and the multitude was transfixed at the sight. And the lady, the mother of Rāhula, thought, “My lord, who used to go to and fro in this very town with gilded palanquin and every sign of royal pomp, now with a potsherd in his hand begs his food from door to door, with shaven hair and beard, and clad in yellow robes. Is this becoming?” And she opened the window, and looked at the Blessed One; and she beheld him glorious with the unequalled majesty of a Buddha, distinguished with the Thirty-two characteristic signs and the eighty lesser marks of a Great Being, and lighting up the street of the city with a halo resplendent with many colours, proceeding to a fathom’s length all round his person.

And she announced it to the king, saying, “Your son is begging his bread from door to door;” and she magnified him with the eight stanzas on “The Lion among Men,” beginning—

291. Glossy and dark and soft and curly is his hair;

Spotless and fair as the sun is his forehead;

Well-proportioned and prominent and delicate is his nose;

Around him is diffused a network of rays;—

The Lion among Men!

The king was deeply agitated; and he departed instantly, gathering up his robe in his hand, and went quickly and stood before the Blessed One, and said, “Why, Master, do you put us to shame? Why do you go begging for your food? Do you think it impossible to provide a meal for so many monks?”

“This is our custom, O king!” was the reply.

“Not so, Master! our descent is from the royal race of the Great Elected;[231] and amongst them all not one chief has ever begged his daily food.”

“This succession of kings is your descent, O king! but mine is the succession of the prophets (Buddhas), from Dīpaŋkara and Kondanya and the rest down to Kassapa. These, and thousands of other Buddhas, have begged their daily food, and lived on alms.” And standing in the middle of the street he uttered the verse—

292. Rise up, and loiter not!

Follow after a holy life!

Who follows virtue rests in bliss,

Both in this world and in the next.”

And when the verse was finished the king attained to the Fruit of the First, and then, on hearing the following verse, to the Fruit of the Second Path—

293. Follow after a holy life!

Follow not after sin!

Who follows virtue rests in bliss,

Both in this world and in the next.

And when he heard the story of the Birth as the Keeper of Righteousness,[232] he attained to the Fruit of the Third Path. And just as he was dying, seated on the royal couch under the white canopy of state, he attained to Arahatship. The king never practised in solitude the Great Struggle.[233]

Now as soon as he had realized the Fruit of Conversion, he took the Buddha’s bowl, and conducted the Blessed One and his retinue to the palace, and served them with savoury food, both hard and soft. And when the meal was over, all the women of the household came and did obeisance to the Blessed One, except only the mother of Rāhula.

But she, though she told her attendants to go and salute their lord, stayed behind, saying, “If I am of any value in his eyes, my lord will himself come to me; and when he has come I will pay him reverence.”

And the Blessed One, giving his bowl to the king to carry, went with his two chief disciples to the apartments of the daughter of the king, saying, “The king’s daughter shall in no wise be rebuked, howsoever she may be pleased to welcome me.” And he sat down on the seat prepared for him.

And she came quickly and held him by his ankles, and laid her head on his feet, and so did obeisance to him, even as she had intended. And the king told of the fullness of her love for the Blessed One, and of her goodness of heart, saying, “When my daughter heard, O Master, that you had put on the yellow robes, from that time forth she dressed only in yellow. When she heard of your taking but one meal a day, she adopted the same custom. When she heard that you renounced the use of elevated couches, she slept on a mat spread on the floor. When she heard you had given up the use of garlands and unguents, she also used them no more. And when her relatives sent a message, saying, ‘Let us take care of you,’ she paid them no attention at all. Such is my daughter’s goodness of heart, O Blessed One!”

“’Tis no wonder, O king!” was the reply, “that she should watch over herself now that she has you for a protector, and that her wisdom is mature; formerly, even when wandering among the mountains without a protector, and when her wisdom was not mature, she watched over herself.” And he told the story of his Birth as the Moonsprite;[234] and rose from his seat, and went away.

On the next day the festivals of the coronation, and of the housewarming, and of the marriage of Nanda, the king’s son, were being celebrated all together. But the Buddha went to his house, and gave him his bowl to carry; and with the object of making him abandon the world, he wished him true happiness; and then, rising from his seat, departed. And (the bride) Janapada Kalyāṇī, seeing the young man go away, gazed wonderingly at him, and cried out, “My Lord, whither go you so quickly?” But he, not venturing to say to the Blessed One, “Take your bowl,” followed him even unto the Wihāra. And the Blessed One received him, unwilling though he was, into the Order.

It was on the third day after he reached Kapilapura that the Blessed One ordained Nanda. On the second day the mother of Rāhula arrayed the boy in his best, and sent him to the Blessed One, saying, “Look, dear, at that monk, attended by twenty thousand monks, and glorious in appearance as the Archangel Brahma! That is your father. He had certain great treasures, which we have not seen since he abandoned his home. Go now, and ask for your inheritance, saying, ‘Father, I am your son. When I am crowned, I shall become a king over all the earth. I have need of the treasure. Give me the treasure; for a son is heir to his father’s property.’”

The boy went up to the Blessed One, and gained the love of his father, and stood there glad and joyful, saying, “Happy, O monk, is thy shadow!” and adding many other words befitting his position. When the Blessed One had ended his meal, and had given thanks, he rose from his seat, and went away. And the child followed the Blessed One, saying, “O monk! give me my inheritance! give me my inheritance!”

And the Blessed One prevented him not. And the disciples, being with the Blessed One, ventured not to stop him. And so he went with the Blessed One even up to the grove. Then the Blessed One thought, “This wealth, this property of his father’s, which he is asking for, perishes in the using, and brings vexation with it! I will give him the sevenfold wealth of the Arahats which I obtained under the Bo-tree, and make him the heir of a spiritual inheritance!” And he said to Sāriputta, “Well, then, Sāriputta, receive Rāhula into the Order.”

But when the child had been taken into the Order the king grieved exceedingly. And he was unable to bear his grief, and made it known to the Blessed One, and asked of him a boon, saying, “If you so please, O Master, let not the Holy One receive a son into the Order without the leave of his father and mother.” And the Blessed One granted the boon.

And the next day, as he sat in the king’s house after his meal was over, the king, sitting respectfully by him, said, “Master! when you were practising austerities, an angel came to me, and said, ‘Your son is dead!’ And I believed him not, and rejected what he said, answering, ’My son will not die without attaining Buddhahood!’”

And he replied, saying, “Why should you now have believed? when formerly, though they showed you my bones and said your son was dead, you did not believe them.” And in that connexion he told the story of his Birth as the Great Keeper of Righteousness.[235] And when the story was ended, the king attained to the Fruit of the Third Path. And so the Blessed One established his father in the Three Fruits; and he returned to Rājagaha attended by the company of the brethren, and resided at the Grove of Sītā.

At that time the householder Anātha Piṇḍika, bringing merchandise in five hundred carts, went to the house of a trader in Rājagaha, his intimate friend, and there heard that a Blessed Buddha had arisen. And very early in the morning he went to the Teacher, the door being opened by the power of an angel, and heard the Truth and became converted. And on the next day he gave a great donation to the Order, with the Buddha at their head, and received a promise from the Teacher that he would come to Sāvatthi.

Then along the road, forty-five leagues in length, he built resting-places at every league, at an expenditure of a hundred thousand for each. And he bought the Grove called Jetavana for eighteen koṭis of gold pieces, laying them side by side over the ground, and erected there a new building. In the midst thereof he made a pleasant room for the Sage, and around it separately constructed dwellings for the eighty Elders, and other residences with single and double walls, and long halls and open roofs, ornamented with ducks and quails; and ponds also he made, and terraces to walk on by day and by night.

And so having constructed a delightful residence on a pleasant spot, at an expense of eighteen koṭis, he sent a message to the Sage that he should come.

The Master, hearing the messenger’s words, left Rājagaha attended by a great multitude of monks, and in due course arrived at the city of Sāvatthi. Then the wealthy merchant decorated the monastery; and on the day on which the Buddha should arrive at Jetavana he arrayed his son in splendour, and sent him on with five hundred youths in festival attire. And he and his retinue, holding five hundred flags resplendent with cloth of five different colours, appeared before the Sage. And behind him Mahā-Subhaddā and Cūla-Subhaddā, the two daughters of the merchant, went forth with five hundred damsels carrying water-pots full of water. And behind them, decked with all her ornaments, the merchant’s wife went forth, with five hundred matrons carrying vessels full of food. And behind them all the great merchant himself, clad in new robes, with five hundred traders also dressed in new robes, went out to meet the Blessed One.

The Blessed One, sending this retinue of lay disciples in front, and attended by the great multitude of monks, entered the Jetavana monastery with the infinite grace and unequalled majesty of a Buddha, making the spaces of the grove bright with the halo from his person, as if they were sprinkled with gold-dust.

Then Anātha Piṇḍika asked him, “How, my Lord, shall I deal with this Wihāra?”

“O householder,” was the reply, “give it then to the Order of Mendicants, whether now present or hereafter to arrive.”

And the great merchant, saying, “So be it, my Lord,” brought a golden vessel, and poured water over the hand of the Sage, and dedicated the Wihāra, saying, “I give this Jetavana Wihāra to the Order of Mendicants with the Buddha at their head, and to all from every direction now present or hereafter to come.”[236]

And the Master accepted the Wihāra, and giving thanks, pointed out the advantages of monasteries, saying,—

294. Cold they ward, off, and heat;

So also beasts of prey,

And creeping things, and gnats,

And rains in the cold season.

And when the dreaded heat and winds

Arise, they ward them off.

295. To give to monks a dwelling-place,

Wherein in safety and in peace

To think till mysteries grow clear,

The Buddha calls a worthy deed.

296. Let therefore a wise man,

Regarding his own weal,

Have pleasant monasteries built,

And lodge there learned men.

297. Let him with cheerful mien

Give food to them, and drink,

And clothes, and dwelling-places

To the upright in mind.

298. Then they shall preach to him the Truth,—

The Truth, dispelling every grief,—

Which Truth, when here a man receives,

He sins no more, and dies away!

Anātha Piṇḍika began the dedication festival from the second day. The festival held at the dedication of Visākhā’s building ended in four months but, Anātha Piṇḍika dedication festival lasted nine months. At the festival, too, eighteen koṭis were spent; so on that one monastery he spent wealth amounting to fifty-four koṭis.

Long ago, too, in the time of the Blessed Buddha Vipassin, a merchant named Punabbasu Mitta bought that very spot by laying golden bricks over it, and built a monastery there a league in length. And in the time of the Blessed Buddha Sikhin, a merchant named Sirivaḍḍha bought that very spot by standing golden ploughshares over it, and built there a monastery three-quarters of a league in length. And in the time of the Blessed Buddha Vessabhū, a merchant named Sotthiya bought that very spot by laying golden elephant feet along it, and built a monastery there half a league in length. And in the time of the Blessed Buddha Kakusandha, a merchant named Accuta also bought that very spot by laying golden bricks over it, and built there a monastery a quarter of a league in length. And in the time of the Blessed Buddha Koṇāgamana, a merchant named Ugga bought that very spot by laying golden tortoises over it, and built there a monastery half a league in length. And in the time of the Blessed Buddha Kassapa, a merchant named Sumaŋgala bought that very spot by laying golden bricks over it, and built there a monastery sixty acres in extent. And in the time of our Blessed One, Anātha Piṇḍika the merchant bought that very spot by laying kahāpaṇas over it, and built there a monastery thirty acres in extent. For that spot is a place which not one of all the Buddhas has deserted. And so the Blessed One lived in that spot from the attainment of omniscience under the Bo-tree till his death. This is the Proximate Epoch. And now we will tell the stories of all his Births.

END OF THE ACCOUNT OF THE CAUSES THAT LEAD TO THE ATTAINMENT OF BUDDHAHOOD.

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