Nor was this grace confined to the lower creation, for in the City of Kapila and its dominions, amongst men and women auspicious things grew like seed flung from the hands of Gods, and even those whom their passions spurred down the broad way of a dangerous karma, considered and took heed, and, laying aside their selfish desires and covetousness, thought no proud, envious thoughts, but lived in quiet with their neighbours; and men were grave and recollected and women chaste and calm, and by all were the Four Rules of Purity honoured. And it is told that the Maharaja, seeing this heavenly guest within his palace, for his sake dwelt purely, practising virtue, putting away from him all evil company, that his heart might not be polluted with lust. And he meditated much by night and day, drinking the moon’s brightness with clasped hands and sacrificing in the golden silences of the dawn, when all high influences are unloosed. And this course of conduct must ensue from such a birth, for, as the lotus and champak flowers exhale their perfume and the moon drops camphor in her secret glories, so do the influences of purity and high thought spread outward from the person of a Buddha-to-be. Therefore, as the light of sun or moon increases little by little and none can measure its growth, so was it with the child, orbing into beauty perfect and yet more perfect—if such a thing can be. And with precious things they surrounded him. Noble amulets guarded his person, great gems adorned him, and the scent of sandalwood made sweet the air for his breathing.
Now, when the time for instruction came, the Maharaja considered whom he should employ to teach his son. Should it be a man of the Wanderers, who, having cast the world utterly aside, scans its wisdom with the diamond ray of perfect comprehension—one of the Unfettered? Or should it be one of the men of braided hair—a Brahman hermit, held, as yet, in family ties, but living the life of pure contemplation? Or a bearer of the Triple Staff?
Much he revolved these matters and, gathering opinions, digested them, and summoned to the high task the wise and saintly Viswamitra. And the boy was brought before him and made due obeisance to his teacher (who is, if possible, more to be reverenced than even a father, being the father of the soul and mind, whereas that other may be but the father of the transitory body); but when Viswamitra questioned the noble child, it has been told that there was nothing he did not know already. For it is related that he was familiar with all that has been written in books or told with tongues, even from the number of the spheres and heavenly bodies, as also their triangular, square and sextile aspects, to the powers of the lowliest worm that creeps upon the earth, unable even to raise its head to adore the divine luminaries. There was nothing that teacher could teach him, for already he knew all. So Viswamitra heard and trembled, and at last, seeing that this matter touched on things deep, incomprehensible and wonderful, he prostrated himself before the child, and, closing up his books, went his way marvelling.
Yet let it not be thought that the Maharaja Suddhodana could behold these portents with a heart of ease, for mingled with all his pride and joy was fear. His son moved before him, beautiful exceedingly, perfect in duty not only to his father and his foster-mother, Prajapati the fair and noble, but also to all with whom he had to do, quick to smile and reply, glad in a boy’s sports and games, and yet—apart. As a man, looking down through the clear crystal of a lake, may behold beneath it groves of strange leafage where silver fish dart and disappear in a life unknown to him, so the Maharaja, looking through the translucence of his son’s eyes uplifted to his, knew that they revealed yet hid a world in which he had no part. And this aloofness grew to be to him a knife driven into his very heart. And time passed, and the child became a noble youth.
One day the Maharaja sent for his minister, an old man, wise and instructed, and to him he said:
“Is all well in the city and the country about it?”
And the old minister, saluting, replied:
“O Maharaj, all is well. And since the birth of your auspicious son how could it be otherwise? For it appears that in past times when a child of pure brilliancy was born, there prevailed great prosperity, and wickedness came to an end. And so it is now.”
And, sighing as if his heart were like to break, the Maharaja replied:
“This is true. And who should rejoice more than I? Yet it is not so, and my heart is consumed with anxiety.”