Buddhist Legends: Books 1–26

IV. 5. NIGGARDLY KOSIYA

Even as a bee, without injuring a flower. This religious instruction was given by the Teacher while he was in residence at Sāvatthi with reference to Niggardly Kosiya the treasurer. The story begins at Rājagaha. [367]

The story goes that in a town named Jaggery, not far from the city of Rājagaha, lived a certain treasurer named Niggardly Kosiya, possessed of eighty crores of treasure. Never a drop of oil small enough to stand on the tip of a blade of grass did he give to others or use for himself. The result was that his wealth, great as it was, yielded no enjoyment to his sons and daughters or to monks and Brahmans, but remained unused, like a pool haunted by evil spirits.

One day, early in the morning, the Teacher arose from a Trance of Great Compassion and with the eye of a Buddha looked out upon his kinsmen in the faith all over the universe. As he did so, he beheld, living at a distance of forty-five leagues, the treasurer and his wife and perceived that they possessed the faculties requisite for Conversion.

Now on the preceding day the treasurer went to the royal palace to wait upon the king. On his way home, after waiting upon the king, he saw a half-starved countryman eating a round cake filled with sour gruel. The sight made him hungry. When he reached his own home, he thought to himself, “If I say openly, ‘I should like to have a round cake to eat,’ there will be many others who will wish to eat with me. In that case a great quantity of sesame, rice, ghee, jaggery, and other provisions will be consumed. I will therefore say nothing to anyone.” So he walked about, enduring hunger as best he could. But as the hours went by, he grew yellow and yet more yellow, and the veins stood out all over his body. Finally, unable to endure hunger any longer, he went into his chamber and lay down hugging his bed. [368] But in spite of his distress, so great was his fear of wasting his wealth that he said nothing to anybody.

As he lay upon his bed, his wife approached him, rubbed his back, and asked him, “Husband, what is the matter with you?” “There is nothing the matter with me.” “Is the king put out with you?” “No, the king is not put out with me.” “Then perhaps your sons

1 This story is almost word for word the same as the Introduction to Jataka 78: i. 345-349. Text: N i. 366-376.

and daughters, or your slaves and servants, have done something to displease you?” “Nothing of the sort.” “But perhaps you have a craving for something?” When his wife said that, so great was his fear of wasting his wealth that he answered her never a word, but lay speechless on his bed. Then his wife said to him, “Tell me, husband. What is it you have a craving for?” Then said her husband, swallowing his words as he spoke them, “Yes, I have a craving for something.” “What is it you have a craving for, husband?” “I should like a round cake to eat.”

“Why didn’t you tell me? Are you a poor man? I will straightway have enough round cakes baked to feed all the inhabitants of the town of Jaggery.” “Why concern yourself about them? They might better work and earn money for themselves to buy food.” “Very well, I will bake enough cakes to feed the inhabitants of one street.” “I have always thought you extravagant.” “Then I will bake enough cakes to feed all who live in this house.” “I have always thought you extravagant.” “Very well, I will bake only enough cakes for you and your children and your wife.” “Why concern yourself about them?” “Very well, I will bake just enough for you and me.” “Why should you care to have any?” [369] “Very well, I will bake just enough for you alone.”

Then said her husband, “There are a great many people on the outlook for cooking in this house. Therefore save out the whole grains of rice, use only the broken grains, and take the brazier and the potsherds and just a little milk and ghee and honey and jagghery, and go up to the top floor of our seven-storied mansion, and there I will sit down all by myself and eat.” “Very well,” replied his wife, promising to carry out his wishes. So she caused the necessary things to be procured, and having climbed to the top of the house, dismissed the servants and caused her husband to be summoned. Her husband climbed from one floor to another, closing and bolting each door after him, until finally he reached the seventh floor. Then, after closing and bolting the door, he sat down. His wife started a fire in the brazier, placed a potsherd on the brazier, and began to cook the cake.

Now early in the morning the Teacher addressed Elder Moggallāna the Great, “Moggallāna, in yonder town of Jaggery, close to the city of Rājagaha, a niggardly treasurer, desiring to eat fried cakes, but afraid that somebody else may see him, is having cakes fried in his seven-storied mansion. Go there, overmaster that treasurer, inculcate in him the virtue of self-denial, take the treasurer and his wife and the cakes and the milk and ghee and honey and jaggery, and by your own power convey them to Jetavana. To-day I will sit with my five hundred monks in the monastery and will make my meal of those very cakes.” “Very well, Reverend Sir,” replied the Elder, promising to carry out the Teacher’s command. [370]

In but an instant, by virtue of his magical power, the Elder proceeded to that town. And before the window of that mansion, properly garbed in under and outer garments, he stood poised in the air like a jeweled image. When the great treasurer saw the Elder, his heart’s flesh quivered and quaked. “It was for fear of just such persons,” said he, “that I came to this place; yet here this fellow comes and stands in front of my window.” Not realizing that the Elder would inevitably get what he must needs get, sputtering with anger, even as when salt and sugar are thrown into a fire, the treasurer spoke thus, “Monk, what do you expect to get by standing poised in the air? You may walk up and down till you cause a path to appear in the pathless air, but for all that you will get nothing by it.” The Elder continued to walk back and forth right there, as before.

Said the treasurer, “What do you expect to get by walking back and forth? You may sit down cross-legged in the air, but for all that you will get nothing by it.” The Elder folded his legs and sat down cross-legged. Then said the treasurer to him, “What do you expect to get by sitting down cross-legged? You may come and stand on the window-sill, but for all that you will get nothing by it.” Then the Elder came and stood on the window-sill. Then said the treasurer to him, “What do you expect to get by coming and standing on the window-sill? You may belch forth smoke, but for all that you will get nothing by it.”

Then the Elder belched forth smoke until the whole mansion was one mass of smoke. The treasurer felt as though his eyes had been pierced with needles. He was so afraid the house might catch fire that he refrained from saying, “You may burst into flames, but for all that you will get nothing by it.” He thought to himself, “This monk sticks fast and will not depart until he gets something. [371] I will have him given one cake.” So he said to his wife, “Dear wife, cook one little cake, give it to the monk, and get rid of him.”

His wife took just a little dough and put it in the pot. But it grew to be a big cake and filled the vessel to overflowing. When the treasurer saw it, he thought to himself, “She must have taken a big piece of dough.” So he himself took ever so little dough on the tip of a spoon and put it in the pot. But it became a bigger cake than the previous one. In like manner each cake they cooked was larger than the preceding ones. Finally,‘in despair, the treasurer said to his wife, “Dear wife, give him a single cake.”

But when his wife tried to take one cake from the basket, all the cakes stuck together. The treasurer’s wife said to her husband, “Husband, the cakes all stick together. I cannot separate them.” “I will separate them,” replied the treasurer. But try as he might, he was unable to do so. Finally the treasurer took hold of one end, and his wife took hold of the other end, and the two pulled with might and main. But for all that they were unable to separate the cakes.

As the treasurer struggled with the cakes, sweat poured forth from his body and his craving disappeared. Thereupon he said to his wife, “Wife, I have no need of the cakes. Take the cakes and the basket and give them to the monk.” So his wife took the basket and approached the monk. The Elder preached the Law to the treasurer and his wife, proclaiming the virtues of the Three Jewels. [372] Beginning with the words, “Almsgiving is true sacrifice,” he made the fruit of almsgiving and of the other works of merit as plain as the moon in the sky.

As the treasurer listened to him, his heart believed, and he said, “Reverend Sir, draw near, sit down on this couch, and eat.” The Elder replied, “Great treasurer, the Supremely Enlightened is sitting in the monastery, expecting to eat these cakes. Therefore, treasurer, if it so please you, bid your wife take the cakes and the milk and the other provisions, and let us go to the Teacher.” “But, Reverend Sir, where is the Teacher at this moment?” “Treasurer, he is at the Jetavana monastery, some forty-five leagues from here.” “Reverend Sir, how can we travel such a long distance without spending a great deal of time on the way?”

“Great treasurer, if it so please you, I will convey you thither by my own magical power. The head of the staircase in your mansion shall remain in its proper place, but the foot of the staircase shall stand at the battlemented gate of Jetavana. I will convey you to Jetavana in less time than it would take you to go from the upper floor of your house to the lower floor.” “Very well, Reverend Sir,” said the treasurer, agreeing to the proposal. So the Elder, allowing the head of the staircase to remain where it was, commanded, “Let the foot of the staircase stand at the battlemented gate of Jetavana.” And it was so. The Elder convened the treasurer and his wife to Jetavana in less time than it would have taken them to go from the upper floor of their house to the lower floor.

The treasurer and his wife both approached the Teacher and informed him that it was meal-time. Thereupon the Teacher entered the refectory and seated himself in the Seat of the Buddha, already prepared, with the Congregation of Monks about him. The great treasurer gave Water of Donation to the Congregation of Monks presided over by the Buddha. [373] The treasurer’s wife placed a cake in the Tathāgata’s bowl. The Teacher took as much as he needed to support life, and the Congregation of Monks likewise took as much as they needed to support life. The treasurer went about distributing milk and ghee and honey and jaggery.

The Teacher and his five hundred monks completed their meal, and the great treasurer and his wife ate as much as they desired to eat. Yet there was no end to the cakes that remained. Even after distribution had been made to the monks of the entire monastery and to the eaters of scraps, there was still no end to the cakes that remained. “Reverend Sir,” they reported to the Exalted One, “the cakes suffer no diminution.” “Very well,” he replied, “throw them away at the battlemented gate of Jetavana.” So they threw them away in a cave near the battlemented gate of Jetavana. To this day that place goes by the name of “Cake-cave.”

Then the great treasurer with his wife approached the Exalted One and stood respectfully on one side. The Exalted One pronounced the words of thanksgiving. At the conclusion of the words of thanksgiving both the treasurer and his wife were established in the Fruit of Conversion. Then they saluted the Teacher, and mounting the staircase at the battlemented gate, found themselves in their own house. From that time forwards the treasurer spent eighty crores of treasure solely in the Religion of the Buddha.

On the evening of the following day, when the monks assembled in the Hall of Truth, they exclaimed, “Behold, brethren, the supernatural power of Elder Moggallāna the Great! Without impairing faith, without impairing riches, [374] he subdued in a moment the niggardly treasurer, made him self-denying, conveyed him to Jetavana, causing him to take his cakes with him, set him face to face with the Teacher, and established him in the Fruit of Conversion. Oh, how great is the supernatural power of the Elder!” Thus, as they sat together in the Hall of Truth, did they praise the virtues of the Elder. By Supernatural Audition the Teacher overheard them, and entering the Hall of Truth, asked them, “Monks, what is the subject you are discussing now, as you sit here all gathered together?” When they told him, he said, “Monks, a monk who would convert a household without impairing faith, without impairing riches, without wearying or oppressing that household, must approach that household to make known the virtues of the Buddha as a bee approaches a flower to gather honey therefrom. Such a monk is my son Moggallāna.” And in praise of the Elder he pronounced the following Stanza,

49. Even as a bee, without injuring a flower, or the color, or the scent thereof,

Gathers the honey, and then flies away, even so should a sage go about village. [376]

When the Teacher had given this religious instruction, he continued his discourse for the purpose of proclaiming the virtues of the Elder, saying, “Monks, this is not the first time that Treasurer Niggardly has been converted by the Elder Moggallāna. In a previous state of existence also he converted him by teaching him the connection between a deed and the fruit thereof.” And to make the matter clearer he related the Illisa Jataka?

Both are lame, both are bow-legged, both squint,

Both have a wart. I cannot tell which of them is Illisa.

IV. 6. PATHIKA THE NAKED ASCETIC

Not the faults of others. This religious instruction was given by the Teacher while he was in residence at Sāvatthi with reference to Pathika the Naked Ascetic.

At Sāvatthi, we are told, the wife of a certain householder ministered to the needs of a Naked Ascetic named Pathika, treating him as she would her own son. Of her nearest neighbors, those who went to hear the Teacher preach the Law returned praising the virtues of the Buddhas in manifold ways, saying, “Oh, how wonderful is the preaching of the Buddhas!” When the woman heard her neighbors thus praise the Buddhas, [377] she desired to go to the monastery and hear the Law. So she put the matter to the Naked Ascetic, saying, “Noble sir, I desire to go and hear the Buddha.” But as often as she made her request, the Naked Ascetic dissuaded her from going, saying, “Do not go.” The woman thought to herself, “Since this

1 Jātaka 78: i. 345-355. « Text: N i. 376-380.

Naked Ascetic will not permit me to go to the monastery and hear the Law, I will invite the Teacher to my own house and hear the Law right here.”

Accordingly, when it was evening, she summoned her own son and sent him to the Teacher, saying to him, “Go invite the Teacher to accept my hospitality for to-morrow.” The boy started out, but went first to the place of residence of the Naked Ascetic, saluted him, and sat down. “Where are you going?” asked the Naked Ascetic. “By my mother’s direction I am going to invite the Teacher.” “Do not go to him.” “All very well, but I am afraid of my mother. I am going.” “Let the two of us eat the fine things prepared for him. Do not go.” “No; my mother will give me a scolding.” “Well then, go. But when you go and invite the Teacher, do not say to him, ‘Our house is situated in such and such a place, in such and such a street, and you may reach it by taking such and such a road.’ Instead, act as if you lived near by, and when you leave, run off as if you intended to take a different road, and come back here.”

The boy listened to the instructions of the Naked Ascetic and then went to the Teacher and delivered the invitation. When he had done everything according to the instructions of the Naked Ascetic, he returned to the latter. Said the Naked Ascetic, “What did you do?” Said the boy, “Everything you told me to do, noble sir.” “You have done very well. Now we shall both of us eat the good things prepared for him.” On the following day, very early in the morning, the Naked Ascetic went to that house, taking the boy with him, and the two sat down together in the back room.

The neighbors smeared that house with cow-dung, [378] decked it with the five kinds of flowers, including the Lājā flower, and prepared a seat of great price, that the Teacher might sit therein. (Men who are not familiar with the Buddhas know nothing about the preparation of a seat for them. Nor do the Buddhas ever need a guide to direct them on their way. For on the Day of Enlightenment, when they sit under the Bo-tree, causing ten thousand worlds to quake, all paths become plain to them: “This path leads to Hell, this path leads to the World of Beasts, this path leads to the World of Ghosts, this path leads to the World of Men, this path leads to the World of the Gods, this path leads to the Deathless, to Great Nibbāna.” There is never any need of telling them the way to villages, market-towns, or other places.)

Therefore the Teacher, very early in the morning, took bowl and robe and went straight to the house of the great female lay disciple. She came forth from the house, saluted the Teacher with the Five Rests, escorted him into the house, poured Water of Donation into his right hand, and gave him the choicest of food, both hard and soft. When the Teacher had finished his meal, the female lay disciple, desiring to have him pronounce the words of thanksgiving, took his bowl, and the Teacher with his own sweet voice began the address of thanksgiving. The lay disciple listened to the preaching of the Law and applauded the Teacher, saying, “Well said! well said!”

The Naked Ascetic, sitting there in the back room, heard the words of applause uttered by the lay disciple as she heard the Teacher preach the Law. Unable to control himself, he remarked, “She is my disciple no longer,” and came out. And he said to the lay disciple, “Hag, you are lost for applauding this man thus.” And he reviled both the female lay disciple and the Teacher in all manner of ways, and then ran off. The lay disciple was so embarrassed by the Naked Ascetic’s insulting words that her mind became completely distraught, and she was unable to concentrate her attention on the Teacher’s discourse. The Teacher asked her, “Lay disciple, are you unable to fix your mind on my discourse?” “Good and Reverend Sir,” she replied, “my mind is completely distraught by the insulting words of this Naked Ascetic.” [379] Said the Teacher, “One should not consider the talk of such a heretic; one should pay no attention to such as he; one should regard only one’s own sins of commission and omission.” So saying, he pronounced the following Stanza,

50. Not the faults of others, not things done and left undone by others,

Only one’s own sins of commission and omission should one regard.

IV. 7. THE KING AND THE KING OF KINGS

Like a beautiful flower. This religious instruction was given by the Teacher while he was in residence at Sāvatthi with reference to the lay disciple Chattapani. [380]

For at Sāvatthi lived a lay disciple named Chattapani, versed in the Tipitaka, enjoying the Fruit of the Second Path. Early one morning, in observance of Fast-day, he went to pay his respects to the Teacher. (For those who enjoy the Fruition of the Second Path and

1 Cf. Hardy, Manual of Buddhism, pp. 296-297. Text: N i. 380-384.

those who are Noble Disciples, by reason of their previous undertaking, do not take upon themselves the obligations of Fast-day. Such persons, solely by virtue of the Path, lead the holy life and eat but one meal a day. Therefore said the Exalted One, “Great king, Ghatikara the potter eats but one meal a day, leads the holy life, is virtuous and upright.” Thus, as a matter of course, those who enjoy the Fruition of the Second Path eat but one meal a day and lead the holy life.)

Chattapani also, thus observing Fast-day, approached the Teacher, paid obeisance to him, and sat down and listened to the Law. Now at this time King Pasenadi Kosala also came to pay his respects to the Teacher. When Chattapani saw him coming, he reflected, “Shall I rise to meet him or not?” He came to the following conclusion, “Since I am seated in the presence of the King of Kings, I am not called upon to rise on seeing the king of one of his provinces. Even if he becomes angry, I will not rise. [381] For if I rise on seeing the king, the king will be honored, and not the Teacher. Therefore I will not rise.” Therefore Chattapani did not rise. (Wise men never become angry when they see a man remain seated, instead of rising, in the presence of those of higher rank.)

But when King Pasenadi saw that Chattapani did not rise, his heart was filled with anger. However, he paid obeisance to the Teacher and sat down respectfully on one side. The Teacher, observing that he was angry, said to him, “Great king, this lay disciple Chattapani is a wise man, knows the Law, is versed in the Tipitaka, is contented both in prosperity and adversity.” Thus did the Teacher extol the lay disciple’s good qualities. Even as the king listened to the Teacher’s praise of the lay disciple, his heart softened.

Now one day after breakfast, as the king stood on the upper floor of his palace, he saw the lay disciple Chattapani pass through the courtyard of the royal palace with a parasol in his hand and sandals on his feet. Straightway he caused him to be summoned before him. Chattapani laid aside his parasol and sandals, approached the king, paid obeisance to him, and took his stand respectfully on one side. Said the king to Chattapani, “Lay disciple, why did you lay aside your parasol and sandals?” “When I heard the words, ‘The king summons you,’ I laid aside my parasol and sandals before coming into his presence.” “Evidently, then, you have to-day learned that

1 Majjhima, ii. 51--”-.

I am king.” “I always knew that you were king.” “If that be true, then why was it that the other day, when you were seated in the presence of the Teacher and saw me, you did not rise?”

“Great king, had I, seated in the presence of the King of Kings, risen on seeing a king of one of his provinces, I should have shown disrespect for the Teacher. Therefore did I not rise.” “Very well, let bygones be bygones. I am told that you are well versed in matters pertaining to the present world and the world to come; [382] that you are versed in the Tipitaka. Recite the Law in our women’s quarters.” “I cannot, your majesty.” “Why not?” “A king’s house is subject to severe censure. Improper and proper alike are grave matters in this case, your majesty.” “Say not so. The other day, when you saw me, you saw fit not to rise. Do not add insult to injury.” “Your majesty, it is a censurable act for householders to go about performing the functions of monks. Send for someone who is a monk and ask him to recite the Law.”

The king dismissed him, saying, “Very well, sir, you may go.” Having so done, he sent a messenger to the Teacher with the following request, “Reverend Sir, my consorts Mallikā and Vāsabhakhattiyā say, ‘We desire to master the Law.’ Therefore pray come to my house regularly with five hundred monks and preach the Law to them.” The Teacher sent the following reply, “Great king, it is impossible for the Buddhas to go regularly to any one place.” “In that case, Reverend Sir, send some monk.” The Teacher assigned the duty to the Elder Ānanda. And the Elder came regularly and recited the Ordinances to those queens. Of the two queens, Mallikā learned thoroughly, rehearsed faithfully, and heeded her teacher’s instruction. But Vāsabhakhattiyā did not learn thoroughly, nor did she rehearse faithfully, nor was she able to master the instruction she received.

One day the Teacher asked the Elder Ānanda, “Ānanda, are your female lay disciples mastering the Law?” “Yes, Reverend Sir.” “Which one learns thoroughly?” “Reverend Sir, Mallikā learns thoroughly, rehearses faithfully, and can understand thoroughly the instruction she receives. But your kinswoman does not learn thoroughly, nor does she rehearse faithfully, nor can she understand thoroughly the instruction she receives.” When the Teacher heard the Elder’s reply, he said, “Ānanda, as for the Law I have preached, to one who is not faithful in hearing, learning, [383] rehearsing, and preaching it, it is profitless, like a flower that possesses color but lacks perfume. But to one who is faithful in hearing, learning, rehearsing and preaching the Law, it returns abundant fruit and manifold blessings.” So saying, he pronounced the following Stanzas,

51. Like a beautiful flower that possesses color but lacks perfume,

So well-spoken words are fruitless to him that doeth them not.

52. Like a beautiful flower that possesses both color and perfume,

So well-spoken words are fruitful to him that doeth them. [384]

At the conclusion of the lesson many attained the Fruit of Conversion and the Fruits of the Second and Third Paths. The lesson was of benefit to the multitude.

IV. 8. MARRIAGE OF VISĀKHĀ

Even as from a heap of flowers. This religious instruction was given by the Teacher while he was in residence at Pubbārāma near Sāvatthi with reference to the female lay disciple Visākhā.

Visākhā, we are told, was born in the city of Bhaddiya in the kingdom of Anga. Her father was Treasurer Dhananjaya, son of Treasurer Ram, and her mother was Sumana Devi, his chief consort. When Visākhā was but seven years old, the Teacher, perceiving that the Brahman Sela and other of his kinsmen in the faith possessed the faculties requisite for Conversion, set out with a great company of monks and came to that city. Now at this time householder Ram held the post of treasurer in that city, being the chief of five persons of great merit. [385]

(The five persons of great merit were Treasurer Ram, Canda-paduma his chief consort, his eldest son Dhananjaya, his wife Sumana Devi, and Treasurer Ram’s slave Puṇṇā. Now Treasurer Ram possessed limitless wealth, but he was not the only possessor of limitless wealth. In the country over which King Bimbisāra ruled were five such persons: Jotiya, Jatila, Ram, Punnaka, and Kakavaliya.)

When Treasurer Ram learned that the Possessor of the Ten Forces had come to his city, he sent for the maiden Visākhā, daughter of Treasurer Dhananjaya, and said to her, “Dear girl, this is a happy day for you and a happy day for me. Summon the five hundred maidens

1 Warren’s version of this beautiful story {Harvard Oriental Series, vol. 3, pp. 451-481: cf. vol. 28, p. 67) was the first Occidental translation of a considerable part of this text. The story occurs also in Aṅguttara Commentary (cf. vol. 28 p. 50). Cf. story xxi. 8; also Hardy, Manual of Buddhism, 2d ed., pp. 226-234. Text: N i. 384-419.

who are your attendants, mount five hundred chariots, and accompanied by your five hundred slave-maidens, go forth to meet the Possessor of the Ten Forces.” “Very well,” replied Visākhā, promising to do as he said.

And this she did. Now because she well knew both what was reasonable and what was unreasonable, she proceeded in her carriage as far as there was room for a carriage to go; and then, descending from her carriage, approached the Teacher on foot, paid obeisance to him, and took her stand on one side. Pleased with her deportment, the Teacher preached the Law to her, and at the end of his discourse both she and her five hundred maidens were established in the Fruit of Conversion.

Treasurer Ram also approached the Teacher, hearkened to the Law, and was established in the Fruit of Conversion. Thereupon Treasurer Ram invited the Teacher to be his guest on the morrow. Accordingly on the following day he entertained in his own house the Congregation of Monks presided over by the Buddha, serving them with the choicest food, both hard and soft, and in like manner during the following fortnight provided them with abundant food. When the Teacher had remained in the city of Bhaddiya during his good pleasure, he departed.

Now at this time Bimbisāra and Pasenadi Kosala were connected by marriage, each having married a sister of the other. And one day [386] the king of Kosala thought to himself, “In Bimbisāra’s country live five persons of limitless wealth, but in my country lives not a single one. Suppose I were to go to Bimbisāra and ask him to let me have one of his persons of great merit.” Accordingly he went to Bimbisāra, who greeted him in a friendly manner and asked him, “For what purpose have you come?” “I have come with this thought in mind, ‘In your country live five persons of limitless wealth and five persons of great merit. I should like to take one of them back with me.’” “These are notable families, and it is impossible for me to move them.” “I will not go back without one.”

The king took counsel with his ministers and replied, “To move notable families like that of Jotiya would be like moving the earth itself. But there is a treasurer named Dhananjaya, son of Treasurer Ram. I will take counsel with him and give you my answer later.” So King Bimbisāra caused Treasurer Dhananjaya to be summoned and said to him, “Dear friend, the king of Kosala has said to me, ‘I wish to take back with me a single treasurer possessed of great wealth.’You go back with him.” “Your majesty, if you send me, I will go.” “Very well, dear friend, make your preparations and go.”

So Treasurer Dhananjaya made the necessary preparations, and the king bestowed high honor upon him and dismissed King Pasenadi, saying, “Take him back with you.” So King Pasenadi took him with him and set out for Sāvatthi, spending a single night on the journey. As they journeyed along, reaching a pleasant place, they pitched camp there for the night. Treasurer Dhananjaya asked the king, “Whose country is this?” “This is my country, treasurer.” “How far is it from here to Sāvatthi?” [387] “Seven leagues.” “The interior of the city is crowded, and my retinue is a large one. If, your majesty, you approve, we will take up our residence right here.” “Very well,” replied the king, granting his request. So the king created a city for him right there and gave it to him, and having so done, departed. Because this region was first inhabited in the evening (sayam), it received the name Saketa. Now there lived at Sāvatthi a treasurer named Migāra, and he had a son named Puṇṇvaḍḍhana, who had just reached manhood. His mother and father said to him, “Dear son, choose for yourself a wife in whatever quarter you please.” “I have no use for anything of the sort.” “Son, do not act in this way. A family without children cannot endure.” After they had spoken to him several times, he said, “Very well. If I can find a maiden endowed with the Five Beauties, I will do as you say.” “But what are these Five Beauties, dear son?” “Beauty of hair, beauty of flesh, beauty of bone, beauty of skin, and beauty of youth.”

(For in the case of a woman of great merit the hair is like a peacock’s tail, and when it is released and allowed to fall, it touches the hem of her skirt, and then the ends of the hair curl and turn upwards. This is Beauty of Hair. Her lips have a color like that of a bright red gourd and are even and soft to the touch. This is Beauty of Flesh. Her teeth are white and even and without interstices and shine like a row of diamonds set upright or like an evenly cut conch-shell. This is Beauty of Bone. Her skin, without the use of sandal-wood or rouge or any other cosmetic, [388] is as smooth as a garland of water-lilies and as white as a garland of kanikara flowers. This is Beauty of Skin. Though she has brought forth ten times, her youth is just as fresh as though she had brought forth but once. This is Beauty of Youth.)

So Puṇṇvaḍḍhana’s mother and father invited a hundred and eight Brahmans to their house, entertained them at dinner, and then asked them, “Are there any women who are endowed with the Five Beauties?” “Indeed there are.” “Well then, let eight of you go in search of such a maiden,” said they, giving the Brahmans much money. “And when you return, we will do for you what is right. Go seek out such a maiden, and when you find her, deck her with this garland.” So saying, they gave the Brahmans a golden garland worth a hundred thousand pieces of money and dismissed them. The Brahmans went to all the great cities and searched diligently, but finding no maiden endowed with the Five Beauties, turned back. Returning to Saketa, they reached the city on Public Day and thought to themselves, “To-day our labors will reach a successful termination.”

Now in this city there is a festival celebrated every year called Public Day, and on this day families which do not ordinarily go out come forth from their houses with their attendants and, with their persons unclothed, go on foot to the bank of the river. Moreover, on this day sons of men of wealth and position of the Warrior caste stand along the road, and when they see a beautiful maiden of equal birth with themselves, throw a wreath of flowers over her head.

The Brahmans also went to the bank of the river, entered a certain hall, and waited. At that moment Visākhā, who was now about fifteen or sixteen years of age, adorned with all her adornments, accompanied by five hundred young women, came to the bank of the river, intending to bathe therein. [389] Suddenly a storm came up and it began to rain. Thereupon the five hundred maidens ran as fast as they could and entered the hall. But in spite of the rain Visākhā proceeded at her usual gait. When she entered the hall, her garments and jewels were wet.

The Brahmans perceived that she possessed four of the Beauties. Desiring to see her teeth, they began saying to each other, “Our daughter has a slothful nature. Her husband will not get so much as sour rice-gruel to eat, or we are sorely mistaken!” Then said Visākhā to the Brahmans, “What are you saying?” “We were speaking of you, dear girl.” (They say that her voice was soft and resonant like the tones of a bell.) Then, with her soft, resonant voice, she asked them again, “What was the subject of your conversation?”

“We were saying that while the young women who are your attendants ran as fast as they could and entered the hall without wetting their garments and their jewels, you did not quicken your pace at all, although it was but a short distance you had to go, and entered the hall with your garments and jewels wet.” “Dear friends, do not speak thus. I am stronger than they are. Moreover, I had good reason for not quickening my pace.” “What was the reason, dear girl?”

“Dear friends, there are four persons who do not appear to advantage while running; and there is another reason besides.” “Dear girl, which are the four persons that do not appear to advantage while running?” “Dear friends, an anointed king does not appear to advantage if, adorned with all his jewels, he girds up his loins and runs in the palace-court. By so doing he will certainly incur unfavorable criticism, and people will say of him, ‘Why is this great king running about like a common householder?’

“Likewise the king’s state elephant, when fully caparisoned, does not appear to advantage while running; but when he moves with the natural grace of an elephant, he does appear to advantage. A monk does not appear to advantage while running. By so doing he will incur only unfavorable criticism, and people will say of him, ‘Why does this monk run about like a common householder?’ [390] But if he walks at a tranquil gait, he does appear to advantage. A woman does not appear to advantage while running. She will incur only unfavorable criticism, and justly so. People will say of her, ‘Why is this woman running about like a man?’ These are the four persons that do not appear to advantage while running.”

“But what was the other reason, dear girl?” “Dear friends, mothers and fathers bring up a daughter seeking to preserve intact the greater and lesser members of her body. For we are goods for sale, and they bring us up with the intention of marrying us off into some other family. The result is that were we, while running, to trip over the hem of our skirt or on the ground, and fall and break either a hand or a foot, we should be a burden on our family. But if the clothes we wear get wet, they will dry. Bearing this consideration in mind, dear friends, I did not run.”

While Visākhā was talking, the Brahmans observed the beauty of her teeth. “Such beautiful teeth as hers we have never seen,” said they. And applauding her, they said, “Dear girl, only you are worthy to receive this.” So saying, they threw the golden garland over her head. Then she asked them, “Dear friends, from what city do you come?” “From Sāvatthi, dear girl.” “What is the name of the treasurer whose household you represent?” “The treasurer’s name is Migāra, dear girl.” “What is the name of his noble son?” “Puṇṇavaddhana Kumāra, dear girl.” “The family is of equal birth with our own,” thought Visākhā.

So she accepted the proposal and immediately sent the following message to her father, “Let him send us a chariot.” [391] For although when she came thither she came on foot, yet from the moment when the garland was thrown over her head, it was no longer proper for her to go on foot. Daughters of noblemen travel in chariots and the like, while others enter an ordinary carriage or raise a parasol or a palmyra-leaf over their heads; and if this is not to be had, take the skirt of their undergarment and throw it over their shoulder.

Now her father sent her five hundred chariots, and entering her chariot, she departed with her retinue, the Brahmans accompanying her. The treasurer asked the Brahmans, “Whence have you come?” “From Sāvatthi, great treasurer.” “What is the name of the treasurer?” “The treasurer’s name is Migāra.” “What is the name of his son?” “Puṇṇvaḍḍhana Kumāra.” “How great is his wealth?” “Forty crores, great treasurer.” “As for his wealth, it is but a farthing compared with ours; but from the time when one obtains a protector for his daughter, why should anything else be considered?” So saying, the treasurer gave his consent. And when he had entertained them in his house for two days, bestowing all manner of attentions upon them, he dismissed them.

The Brahmans returned to Sāvatthi and reported to Treasurer Migāra, “We have found a maiden.” “Whose daughter is she?” “The daughter of Treasurer Dhananjaya.” Treasurer Migāra thought to himself, “I have obtained the daughter of a notable family, and it behooves me to bring her hither with all speed.” So he informed the king of his intention to go thither. The king thought to himself, “That is the distinguished family I took from King Bimbisāra and settled at Saketa. [392] I ought to show him every attention.” So he said, “I will go too.” “Very well, your majesty,” replied Treasurer Migāra. So Treasurer Migāra sent the following message to Treasurer Dhananjaya, “When I come, the king will accompany me, and the king’s force is a large one. Shall you be able or shall you not be able to care for so large a company?” Treasurer Dhananjaya sent back the following reply, “If ten kings are coming, let them come!”

Accordingly Treasurer Migāra took with him from that great city all of the inhabitants except so many as were required to guard the houses, and halting half a league from Saketa, sent the following message to Treasurer Dhananjaya, “We have arrived.” Thereupon Treasurer Dhananjaya sent a handsome present to Treasurer Migāra and took counsel with his daughter, saying, “Dear daughter, I am informed that your father-in-law has arrived, and with him the king of Kosala. Which house shall be made ready for him, and which for the king, and which houses for the viceroys?” (The treasurer’s daughter possessed wisdom, and her intelligence was as keen as the edge of a diamond, as the result of the Resolution she had formed and the Earnest Wish she had cherished during a hundred thousand cycles of time.)

So she made the necessary arrangements, saying, “Make ready such and such a house for my father-in-law, such and such for the king, and such and such for the viceroys.” And causing the slaves and the servants to be summoned, she apportioned to them their several duties, saying, “So many of you are to wait upon the king and so many upon the viceroys; and so many of you as are hostlers and the like are to care for the elephants and horses and other animals, so that when our guests arrive, they may enjoy this festive occasion to the full.” (Why did she take it upon herself to do this? So that none might say, “We came to take part in the festivities of Visākhā’s marriage, but obtained no enjoyment; instead, we spent our time looking after our horses and the like.”)

On that very day also Visākhā’s father caused five hundred goldsmiths to be summoned and said to them, “Make for my daughter a great-creeper-parure.” [393] So saying, he gave them a thousand nikkhas of ruddy gold and a sufficient supply of silver, rubies, pearls, coral, and diamonds to go with it.

After the king had remained a few days, he sent the following message to Treasurer Dhananjaya, “The treasurer must not think of providing maintenance and support for us for long. Let him inform us when the maiden is to depart.” The treasurer sent back the following message to the king, “The season of the rains has now arrived; therefore it will be impossible for you to move for four months. Whatever your army requires, all this it shall be my duty to provide. The king will depart when I send him.” From that time on it was like one long holiday in the city of Saketa. From the king to the humblest person, all were adorned with garlands and perfumes and rich apparel, and each thought to himself, “The king is bestowing his attentions on me alone.” In this manner three months passed, but the parure was not yet finished.

The superintendents of the work came and reported to the treasurer, “Nothing is lacking except that there is not sufficient wood to cook food for the army.” “Friends, go tear down all the ruined elephant-stables and all the dilapidated houses in this city and use them for] firewood.” They cooked food with firewood thus obtained for a fortnight, and then came back and reported, “There is no more wood.” “At this time of year it is impossible to procure firewood; therefore open the storehouses where the cloths are kept, take coarse cloths, make wicks of them, [394] soak them in vessels of oil, and thus cook the food.” And this they did for another fortnight.

Thus four months passed, and the parure was completed. In the making of this parure, four pint-pots of diamonds were used, eleven pint-pots of pearls, twenty-two pint-pots of coral, thirty-three pint-pots of rubies; with these and other of the seven kinds of jewels the parure was completed. Ordinary threads were not used in the making of this parure; the thread work was entirely of silver. It was fastened to the head and extended to the feet. In various places seals of gold and dies of silver were attached to hold it in position. There was one seal on the crown of the head, one on the top of each ear, one at the throat, one on each knee, one at each elbow, one at the waist, and one at the small of the back.

In the fabric of this parure the goldsmiths wrought a peacock; in its right wing were five hundred feathers of ruddy gold, and in its left wing five hundred. Its beak was of coral, its eyes were of gems, and likewise its neck and its tail-feathers; the midribs of the feathers were of precious stones and likewise its legs. When it was placed on the crown of Visākhā’s head, it appeared like a peacock standing on the peak of a mountain and dancing; and the sound of the midribs of the thousand feathers was like the music of the celestial choir or of the five kinds of instruments. Only by going very close could people tell that it was not a real peacock. [395] The materials used in the making of this parure cost nine crores, and a hundred thousand pieces of money were paid for the workmanship.

(Through what deed in a previous state of existence did Visākhā receive this parure? We are told that in the dispensation of the Buddha Kassapa she presented twenty thousand monks with bowls and robes, and that she likewise gave them thread and needles and dyeing materials, all of which were her property. It was through this gift of robes that she received this parure. The gift of robes by women culminates in the great-creeper-parure, the gift of robes by men culminates in the reception of bowls and robes supernaturally created.)

When in the course of four months the great treasurer had thus prepared a trousseau for his daughter, he began giving her her dowry. He gave her five hundred carts filled with money, five hundred carts filled with vessels of gold, five hundred filled with vessels of silver, five hundred filled with copper vessels, five hundred carts filled with garments made of various kinds of silk, five hundred carts filled with ghee, five hundred filled with rice husked and winnowed, and five hundred carts filled with plows, plowshares, and other farm implements.

This, we are told, was the thought that occurred to him, “In the place to which my daughter is going, she must never be obliged to send to her neighbor and say, ‘I have need of this or that.’” For this reason, therefore, he provided her with all these implements. Then he provided her with slave-maidens richly dressed and adorned to wait upon her person, bringing up five hundred carts and placing three slave-maidens in each cart and saying to them, “You are to bathe her and feed her and dress her.” Thus he gave her fifteen hundred slave-maidens to wait upon her person.

Then the following thought occurred to him, “I will give my daughter cattle.” So he gave the following order to his men, [396] “My men, go to the small cattle-pen and open the gate. When you have so done, post yourselves on both sides of a lane three-quarters of a league in length and eight rods across, with a drum at every quarter-league, and do not allow the cattle to pass beyond these limits. When you have taken up your positions, sound your drums.”

His men did as they were commanded. Leaving the cattle-pen, they proceeded a quarter of a league and sounded the drum; then proceeding to the half-league point, they sounded the drum; then proceeding to the three-quarter-league point, they sounded the drum; and they guarded the means of exit along the sides. When they had so done, cattle filled an inclosure three-quarters of a league in length and eight rods across and stood rubbing shoulder with shoulder.

Then the great treasurer ordered the gate of the cattle-pen to be closed, saying, “These cattle are enough for my daughter. Close the gate.” But even after the gate had been closed, by the fruit of Visākhā’s merit, the powerful bulls and milch-cows leaped over the gate and got out. Indeed, in spite of all that the men could do to prevent them, sixty thousand powerful bulls and sixty thousand milch-cows escaped, powerful bull-calves following the milch-cows out of the inclosure.

(Through what deed in a previous state of existence did the cattle thus come forth? We are told that, in the dispensation of the Buddha Kassapa, Visākhā was reborn as Sanghadasi, the youngest of seven daughters of King Kiki. One day, as she was giving the five products of the cow to a company of twenty thousand monks, [397] the young monks and novices covered their bowls with their hands and said, “Enough! enough!” But in spite of their efforts to prevent her, she continued to give, saying, “This is pleasant to the taste, this will rejoice the heart.” As the result of this deed, we are told, the cattle escaped in spite of all that the men could do to prevent them.)

After the treasurer had given all this wealth to his daughter, his wife said to him, “You have provided all else for your daughter, but you have not provided men-servants and women-servants to do her bidding. Why is this?” “Because I wish to find out which of them have a sincere affection for my daughter and which of them have not. It is not my intention to seize by the neck and send with her those who do not wish to go with her. But when she has entered her carriage and is ready to start, then I will say, ‘Let those who wish to go with her go; let those who do not wish to go with her remain behind.’”

“On the morrow my daughter will depart,” thought the treasurer as he sat in his inner room. So he summoned his daughter, seated her beside him, and said to her, “Dear daughter, there are certain modes of conduct which you must observe so long as you live with your husband’s family.” And so saying, he gave her certain admonitions. Now Treasurer Migāra happened to be sitting in the next room and heard all the admonitions which Treasurer Dhananjaya gave to his daughter. And these were the admonitions which Treasurer Dhananjaya gave to his daughter:

“Dear daughter, so long as you live in the house of your father-in-law, the indoor fire is not to be carried outside; the outdoor fire is not to be carried inside; give only to him that gives; give not to him that gives not; [398] give both to him that gives and to him that gives not; sit happily; eat happily; sleep happily; tend the fire; honor the household divinities.”

These Ten Admonitions did Treasurer Dhananjaya give to his daughter. On the following day he assembled all the guilds of artisans and standing in the midst of the king’s army, appointed eight householders to be sponsors for his daughter, saying to them, “If in the place to which my daughter is going, any fault is charged against my daughter, you are to clear her of the charge.”

Then he caused his daughter to put on her great-creeper-parure which cost nine crores of treasure, and giving her fifty-four crores of treasure to buy aromatic powders for the bath, he assisted her to enter her carriage. And escorting her through the fourteen villages round about Saketa which paid tribute to him as far as Anuradhapura, he caused the following proclamation to be made, “Let those who wish to go with my daughter go.”

So soon as the inhabitants of the fourteen villages heard this proclamation, they exclaimed, “Why should we remain here when our noble mistress is departing?” And they, departed from those villages, leaving nothing behind them. Treasurer Dhananjaya paid his respects to the king and Treasurer Migāra, accompanied them a little way on their journey, and then bidding farewell to his daughter, placed her in their charge.

When Treasurer Migāra, seated in the last carriage in the procession, saw the army of people following, he asked, “Who are these people?” “Men-servants and women-servants to do your daughter-in-law’s bidding.” “Who can feed so many as these? Beat them with sticks and drive them back. Take along only those who will not be driven back.” But Visākhā protested, saying, “Hold! do not drive them away. One army will feed the other.” Said the treasurer in reply to her protests, “Dear girl, we have no need of these people. [399] Who will feed them?” And he had them beaten with clods of earth, sticks, and the like and driven back. And taking with him those who would not be driven back, he said, “These are enough for our purposes,” and continued his journey.

Now when Visākhā reached the gate of the city of Sāvatthi, she thought to herself, “Shall I enter the city sitting in a closed carriage or standing up in a chariot?” Thereupon the following thought occurred to her, “If I enter the city sitting in a closed carriage, the splendor and magnificence of my great-creeper-parure will be visible to none.” Accordingly she entered the city standing up in a chariot, showing herself to all the city. When the residents of Sāvatthi beheld Visākhā’s state, they said, “This, they say, is Visākhā, and her state well becomes her.” Such was the splendid state in which Visākhā entered the treasurer’s house.

On the day when Visākhā entered the city of Sāvatthi, all the residents of the city said to themselves, “Treasurer Dhananjaya was most hospitable to us when we visited his city.” Therefore they sent presents to Visākhā according to their power and ability. And all the presents which were sent to her Visākhā distributed among the various families throughout the city. “Give this to my mother,” she would say; “this to my father, this to my brother, this to my sister.” Thus she accompanied every gift she sent with a kindly message to the recipient, choosing her words with reference to the age and station of each and adopting, as it were, all the residents of the city as her kinsfolk.

Now in the middle of the night Visākhā’s well-bred mare gave birth to a foal. Accordingly Visākhā went to the stable, accompanied by her female slaves bearing torches in their hands, saw that the mare was bathed with hot water [400] and anointed with oil, and having so done, returned to her own quarters.

Now Treasurer Migāra, in planning the festivities of his son’s marriage, completely ignored the Tathāgata, in spite of the fact that the Teacher was at that time in residence at a monastery close at hand. On the other hand, impelled by the friendly feeling which he had long cherished for the Naked Ascetics, he said to himself, “I will render honor to my noble ascetics.” So one day he ordered the finest of rice-porridge to be boiled in hundreds of new vessels, invited five hundred Naked Ascetics, escorted them into his house, and having so done, sent the following message to Visākhā, “Let my daughter-in-law come and render homage to the Arahats.”

Now Visākhā had attained the Fruit of Conversion and was one of the Noble Disciples, and therefore she was pleased and delighted when she heard the word “Arahats.” But when she entered the hall where the Naked Ascetics were eating and looked at them, she said, “Men like these are totally bereft of sense of modesty and fear of mortal sin and have no right to the title ‘Arahats.’ Why did my father-in-law send for me to come?” And reproaching the treasurer, she returned to her own quarters.

When the Naked Ascetics saw Visākhā, they all reproached the treasurer with one accord, saying, “Householder, why did you not seek some other maiden to be the wife of your son? In admitting a female lay disciple of the monk Gotama to your house, you have admitted a Jonah of Jonahs. Expel her from this house immediately.” But Treasurer Migāra thought to himself, “It is impossible for me to expel her from my house on the mere say-so of these ascetics; she is the daughter of a great house.” Accordingly he said to the Naked Ascetics, “Noble ascetics, young women are likely to do all sorts of things, whether knowingly or unknowingly. Hold your peace.” So saying, he dismissed them. Having so done, he seated himself on a costly seat and began to eat rich rice-porridge flavored with honey out of a golden dish.

At this time a monk who was a pellet-faller, [401] going his round for alms, entered the treasurer’s residence. Visākhā stood fanning her father-in-law. When she saw the monk, thinking to herself, “It would not be proper for me to announce this monk to my father-in-law,” she stepped aside, that her father-in-law might see the Elder. But the simpleton, although he saw the Elder, pretended not to see him and with bowed head continued to eat his meal. Visākhā perceived within herself, “Although my father-in-law sees the Elder, yet he makes no sign.” Accordingly she said to the Elder, “Pass on, Reverend Sir. My father-in-law is eating stale fare.”

Now although Treasurer Migāra had resisted the importunities of the Naked Ascetics, yet when, as he sat there, he heard her say, “He is eating stale fare,” he removed his hand from the dish and said, “Take away this rice-porridge and expel the woman from this house. To think that at a time of festivity she should accuse such a man as I am of eating unclean food!” But in this house all the slaves and servants belonged to Visākhā. Who, therefore, would take hold of her hands and her feet? There was no one who dared even open his mouth.

Visākhā, hearing the words which her father-in-law had uttered, said, “Dear father-in-law, this is no sufficient reason why I should leave your house. It is not as if I were a common wench brought hither by you from some bathing-place on the river. Daughters who have mothers and fathers living do not leave the house of their father-in-law for any such reason as this. Indeed, for this very reason, when I set out to come hither, my father summoned eight householders and placed me in their hands and said, ‘If any fault is charged against my daughter, you are to clear her of the charge.’ Send, therefore, for my sponsors and let them clear me of the charge.”

“What she says is right,” said the treasurer. Accordingly he summoned the eight householders and said to them, “At a time of festivity, while I was sitting and eating rich rice-porridge out of a golden dish, this young woman said that I was eating unclean food. [402] Convict her of this charge and expel her from this house.” “Is what he says true, dear girl?”

“I did not say precisely that. What happened was this: A certain monk going his round for ahns stopped at the door of the house, and my father-in-law, who at the time was eating rich rice-porridge flavored with honey, completely ignored him. I thought to myself, ‘My father-in-law is acquiring no fresh merit in his present state of existence, but is consuming only stale merit.’ So I said to the Elder, ‘Pass on, Reverend Sir. My father-in-law is eating stale fare.’ What fault is to be found with me for so doing?” “None at all. What our daughter said was entirely proper. Why should you get angry with her?”

“Noble sirs, I grant that there is no fault to be found with her for this. But on a certain occasion, in the middle watch of the night, she went behind the house accompanied by her slaves, both male and female.” “Is what he says true, dear girl?” “Dear friends, my reason for going was no other than this: My full-blooded mare had given birth to a foal in the stable attached to the house. I thought to myself, ‘It is not right that I should sit here and make no sign.’ So I ordered my slaves to procure torches, and accompanied by my slaves, both male and female, I went to the stable and saw to it that proper care was given to the mare.” “Noble sir, our daughter does work in your house which is not fit even for female slaves to do. What fault do you find in this?”

“Noble sirs, I grant that there is no fault to be found with her for this. But when she was on the point of coming here, her father admonished her, giving her Ten Admonitions with a deeply hidden meaning. I do not know what they mean. Let her tell me the meaning of them. [403] For example, her father said to her, ‘The indoor fire is not to be carried outside.’ Pray how could we live without giving fire to the neighbors who live on both sides of us?” “Is what he says true, dear girl?” “Dear friends, that was not my father’s meaning. What he meant was this: ‘Dear daughter, if you see any fault in your father-in-law or in your husband, say nothing about it when you go to this house or to the other house, for there is no fire that may be compared to this fire.’”

“Noble sirs, let this be as it may. But her father said to her, ‘The outdoor fire is not to be carried inside.’ When the fire in the house is extinguished, what else can we do than to bring fire in from without?” “Is what he says true, dear girl?” “Dear friends, that was not my father’s meaning. What he meant was this: ‘If either women or men in your neighbors’ houses speak ill of your father-in-law or of your husband, you must not bring home what you have heard them say and repeat it, saying, “So-and-so said this or that unkind thing about you.” For there is no fire comparable to this fire.’”

Thus she was found free from fault in this matter, and as in this so also in the others. And this is the true meaning of the remaining admonitions: “Give only to him that gives” means that one should give only to those that return borrowed articles. “Give not to him that gives not” means that one should not give to those who do not return borrowed articles. “Give both to him that gives and to him that gives not” means that when poor [404] kinsfolk and friends seek assistance, one should give to them, whether or not they are able to repay.

“Sit happily” means that when a wife sees her mother-in-law or her father-in-law or her husband, she should stand and not remain sitting. “Eat happily” means that a wife should not eat before her mother-in-law and her father-in-law and her husband have eaten. She should serve them first, and when she is sure that they have had all they care for, then and not until then may she herself eat. “Sleep happily” means that a wife should not go to bed before her mother-in-law and her father-in-law and her husband. She should first perform the major and minor duties which she owes them, and when she has so done, then she may herself lie down to sleep.

“Tend the fire” means that a wife should regard her mother-in-law and her father-in-law and her husband as a flame of fire or as a serpent-king. “Honor the household divinities” means that a wife should look upon her mother-in-law and her father-in-law and her husband as her divinities.

When the treasurer had heard this exposition of the meaning of the Ten Admonitions, he sat with bowed head, unable to make answer. Then the householders asked him, “Treasurer, is there any other fault in our daughter?” “Noble sirs, there is not.” “Why then, if she is without fault, do you seek without cause to expel her from your house?” At this point Visākhā said, “Dear friends, although at first it would not have been proper for me to leave at the command of my father-in-law, inasmuch as when I came hither my father placed me in your hands to determine my guilt or my innocence, nevertheless now, seeing that you have found me free from fault, it is entirely proper for me to go.”

Forthwith she gave orders, “Prepare for my departure my slaves, both male and female, and my carriages and other conveyances.” Thereupon the treasurer detained those householders and said to Visākhā, [405] “Dear daughter-in-law, it was through ignorance that I spoke. Pardon me.” “Dear father in-law, I pardon you freely so far as in me lies. But I am the daughter of a house which has firm faith in the Religion of the Buddha, and we cannot exist without the Congregation of Monks. If I may be permitted to minister to the Congregation of Monks, according to my inclination, I will remain.” “Dear daughter-in-law, you may minister to your monks to your heart’s content.”

Visākhā caused an invitation to be sent to the Possessor of the Ten Forces, and on the following day entertained him in her house. The Naked Ascetics also, hearing that the Teacher was going to the house of Treasurer Migāra, went and sat down in a circle about the house. When Visākhā had given Water of Donation to the Teacher, she sent the following message to her father-in-law, “The feast is all ready. Let my father-in-law come and wait upon the Possessor of the Ten Forces.” Now Treasurer Migāra desired to go, but the Naked Ascetics dissuaded him, saying, “Householder, do not think of going to the monk Gotama.” So he sent back the following message, “Let my daughter-in-law herself wait upon him alone.”

When Visākhā had served the Congregation of Monks presided over by the Buddha with food, and the meal was over, she sent a second message to her father-in-law, “Let my father-in-law come and hear the Teacher preach the Law.” Thought the treasurer, “It would be highly improper for me not to go now,” and desiring greatly to hear the Law, he set out. Thereupon the Naked Ascetics addressed him a second time, saying, “Well then, if you are determined to hear the monk Gotama, sit outside of a curtain and listen.” And preceding him, they drew a curtain around. The treasurer went and sat outside of the curtain.

Then said the Teacher, “You may sit beyond a curtain or beyond a wall or beyond a mountain, or you may even sit beyond the range of mountains that encircles the earth; I am the Buddha, and I can make you hear my voice.” [406] And as though seizing and shaking great trunks of rose-apple trees or causing ambrosial rain to fall, he began to preach the Law in orderly sequence. Now when a Supreme Buddha preaches the Law, they that stand before and they that stand behind, they that stand beyond a hundred Cakkavāḷas or a thousand Cakkavāḷas, and they that stand in the Abode of the Sublime Gods say, “The Teacher is looking at me alone; he is preaching the Law to me alone.” For the Teacher appears to be looking at each individual and to be conversing with each individual. The Buddhas are said to be like the moon. For as the moon in mid-heaven appears to all beings alike, so that each individual thinks, “The moon is over me, the moon is over me,” so also the Buddhas appear to stand face to face with each individual, no matter where that individual may stand. This is said to be the fruit of their generosity in cutting off their gloriously adorned heads, gouging out their anointed eyes, uprooting the flesh of their hearts, and giving to be the slaves of others sons like Jali, daughters like Kanhajina, and wives like Maddi.

As Treasurer Migāra, sitting outside of the curtain, turned over in his mind the teaching of the Tathāgata, he became established in the Fruit of Conversion in a thousand ways adorned, and became endowed with unwavering belief, and acquired firm faith in the Three Refuges. And lifting the hem of the curtain, he went forwards, and taking in his mouth the breast of his daughter-in-law, he adopted her as his mother, saying, “To-day henceforth you are my mother.” And thenceforth she was called Mother of Migāra. [407] Later on, when she had a son, she gave him the name Migāra. Then the great treasurer, letting go the breast of his daughter-in-law, went to the Exalted One, fell at his feet, stroked his feet with his hands and covered them with kisses, and thrice called out his own name, saying, “I am Migāra, Reverend Sir.” Then he said, “Reverend Sir, all this time I have not known the abundant fruit of alms given to you, but now, through my daughter-in-law, I have come to know of it and have obtained release from all the suffering of the states of punishment. When my daughter-in-law came to my house, she came for my welfare and salvation.” So saying, he pronounced the following Stanza,

To-day I know where given alms yield abundant fruit;

For my welfare indeed my excellent daughter-in-law came to my house.

Visākhā invited the Teacher for the following day, and on the following day her mother-in-law attained the Fruit of Conversion. And from that time on that house kept open door for the Religion of the Buddha.

Then the treasurer thought to himself, “My daughter-in-law has done me a great service. I will make her a present. Now her great-creeper-parure is so heavy that it is impossible for her to wear it all the time. I will therefore have a light parure made for her which she can wear both by day and by night in all the four postures.” Accordingly at a cost of a hundred thousand pieces of money he had a parure made for her called the solid polished parure, and when this was completed, inyited the Congregation of Monks presided over by the Buddha and gave them a bountiful feast. Then he caused Visākhā to bathe herself in sixteen water-pots of perfumed water and to put on the solid polished parure. And when she had so done, he caused her to take her stand before the Teacher and to pay obeisance to the Teacher. Then the Teacher pronounced the words of thanksgiving [408] and went back to the monastery.

Thenceforth Visākhā gave alms, performed the other works of merit, and obtained the Eight Boons from the Teacher. And even as the crescent moon waxes great in the sky, even so did Visākhā wax great with sons and daughters. It is said that she had ten sons and ten daughters, and that each of these had ten sons and ten daughters, and that each of these had ten sons and ten daughters. Thus the children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren in the line of direct descent from her numbered eight thousand four hundred and twenty persons. She herself lived to be a hundred and twenty years old, and yet there was not a single gray hair in her head; she always seemed to be about sixteen years old.

When people saw her on her way to the monastery, surrounded by her children and grandchildren, there were always those who would ask, “Which of these is Visākhā?” When they saw her coming, they would think to themselves, “Let her walk a little way farther; our mistress looks well when she walks.” And when they saw her sitting or lying down, they would think to themselves, “Let her lie a little longer; our mistress looks well when she is lying down.” Thus there was no one who could ever say, “She does not look well in any of the four postures.”

Moreover, she had the strength of five elephants. Once upon a time the king, who had heard that Visākhā possessed the strength of five elephants, [409] resolved to test her. So on his way back from the monastery, to which he had gone to listen to the Law, he released an elephant against her. The elephant lifted up his trunk and made straight for Visākhā. Of the five hundred women who accompanied her, some fled in terror, while others threw their arms about her. “What does this mean?” asked Visākhā.

1 See Vinaya, Mahd Vagga, viii. 15: i. 290-294.

“Noble mistress,” they replied, “they say that the king desires to test your strength and has therefore released an elephant against you.” When Visākhā saw the elephant, she thought to herself, “Why should I flee? How now shall I take hold of him? If I grasp him firmly, I may kill him.” So taking his trunk between two of her fingers, she forced him back. The elephant, unable to resist her strength and to keep his footing, fell back on his haunches in the royal court. Thereupon the populace applauded her, and she returned home with her retinue in safety.

Now at this time, at Sāvatthi, Visākhā Mother of Migāra had many children and many grandchildren and many great-grandchildren. And her children were free from sickness and her grandchildren were free from sickness and her great-grandchildren were free from sickness, and she was considered to bring good luck. And of all her many thousand children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren, not one had as yet met death. On festivals and holidays the residents of Sāvatthi always invited Visākhā first to their feasts.

Now on a certain festive occasion, as the multitude, richly dressed and adorned, were on their way to the monastery to listen to the Law, [410] Visākhā also, after eating in the house to which she had been invited, put on her great-creeper-parure and accompanied the multitude to the monastery. And taking off her ornaments, she gave them to her slave-girl, even as it is said:

Now at this time there was a festival at Sāvatthi, and the people, richly dressed and adorned, went to the Grove; and Visākhā Mother of Migāra, richly dressed and adorned, also went to the monastery. And Visākhā Mother of Migāra took off her ornaments, and wrapping them in her cloak, gave them to her slave-girl, saying, “Ho! take this bundle.”

It is said that, as she was on her way to the monastery, she thought to herself, “It is not fitting that I should enter the monastery covered with jewels, wearing on my person a parure so costly as this, extending from head to foot.” Therefore removing her parure, she made a bundle of it and placed it in the hands of her slave-girl, who alone could carry it, possessing as she did the strength of five elephants acquired by her own merit. Therefore she said to her, “Dear girl, take this parure. When I return from the Teacher’s sermon, I will put it on again.” And when she had given the parure to her slave-girl, she put on her solid polished parure, and approaching the Teacher, listened to the Law. At the end of the sermon she saluted the Exalted One, rose from her seat, and went out. Her slave-girl, who had forgotten the parure, accompanied her.

Now it was the custom of Elder Ānanda, after the congregation had departed from listening to the Law, in case anything had been forgotten and left behind, to put it away. So on this particular day, seeing the great-creeper-parure, he told the Teacher, “Reverend Sir, Visākhā has gone away and forgotten her parure.” “Put it aside, Ānanda.” So the Elder took it up [411] and hung it beside the staircase. Visākhā thought to herself, “I will find out what medicines and other requisites are needed by the monks who are coming and going and who are sick or in need.” And for the purpose of providing for them she made the rounds of the monastery with Suppiya.

Now whenever the young monks and novices saw these two female lay disciples going the rounds of the monastery, those who had need of ghee and honey and oil and the other requisites used to take their bowls and other vessels and come up to them. And on this day they followed their usual practice. Suppiya, seeing a certain sick monk, asked him, “What does my noble master require?” “Meat-broth.” “Very well, noble sir, I will see that it is sent to you.” So on the following day, obtaining no suitable meat with which to make the broth, she cut flesh from her own thigh. Through her faith in the Teacher her body was made whole. 1

When Visākhā had attended all the sick monks and all the young monks and novices, she went out by another door. Stopping at the approach to the monastery, she said to her slave-girl, “Dear girl, bring me my parure. I should like to put it on.” At that moment the slave-girl reflected that she had forgotten to bring it with her when she came out. So she replied, “Noble mistress, I forgot to bring it with me.” “Well then, go back and get it. But in case my noble Elder Ānanda has taken it up and put it away, do not bring it to me. In that case I give it freely to my noble Elder.” Now Visākhā knew in her heart, “It is the practice of the Elder to put away articles that have been forgotten and left behind by persons of consequence.” It was for this reason that she said this.

When the Elder saw the slave-girl, he asked her, “For what purpose have you returned?” The slave-girl replied, “When I went away I forgot to take with me the parure which belongs to my noble

1 See Vinaya, Mahd Vagga, vi. 23. 1-9: i. 216-218. Cf. Divydvaddna, p. 472.

mistress.” “I hung it by the staircase. Go get it.” But the slave-girl replied, “Noble sir, nothing that has been touched by your hand [412] may be removed by my noble mistress.” And filled with joy and delight, she returned to her mistress. “What about it?” asked Visākhā. The slave-girl told her the whole story. “Dear girl,” said Visākhā, “I will wear nothing that has been touched by my noble master. I give it to him freely. But the parure will be a troublesome thing for my noble masters to take care of. I will therefore sell it and give my noble masters the equivalent of the money it brings. Go fetch it hither.” So the slave-girl went and brought back the parure.

Visākhā did not put on the parure, but sent for goldsmiths and had it appraised. The goldsmiths reported, “The parure is worth nine crores, and the workmanship is worth a hundred thousand.” So Visākhā caused the parure to be placed in a cart and said, “Very well, sell it.” But there was no one who could have bought it at that price. (Women who are able to wear the great-creeper-parure are hard to find. Indeed on the whole circle of the earth there are but three women who have obtained the great-creeper-parure: the eminent female lay disciple Visākhā, the wife of Bandhula king of the Mallas, and Mallikā daughter of the treasurer of Benāres.)

Therefore Visākhā herself alone gave the price for it, and causing the nine crores of treasure and a hundred thousand additional to be placed in a cart, she caused it to be conveyed to the monastery. Then she saluted the Teacher and said, “Reverend Sir, this thought has been in my mind: ‘My noble master. Elder Ānanda, touched with his hand my golden-creeper-parure, and from the moment he touched it I decided that I could no longer wear it. Therefore I decided to sell it and to give you the purchase-money.’ But when I tried to sell it, I could find no one who was able to buy it, and therefore made up the price for it myself and have brought it to you. Which of the four requisites shall I present to you, Reverend Sir?”

The Teacher replied, [413] “Visākhā, would it suit you to erect a dwelling-place for the monks at the eastern gate of the monastery?” “That would suit me exactly, Reverend Sir,” replied Visākhā, her heart filled with delight. So for nine crores she bought the site, and with nine crores more began to build a dwelling-place for the monks.

Now one day, as the Teacher surveyed the world at dawn, he perceived that the faculties requisite for Conversion were possessed by a certain treasurer’s son named Bhaddiya, who, after passing from the World of the Gods, had been reborn in the household of the treasurer of the city of Bhaddiya. Therefore, after eating his breakfast in the house of Anāthapiṇḍika, he set out for the north gate.

As a rule, when the Teacher took his meal in the house of Visākhā, he went out by the south gate and resided at the Jetavana; and when he took his meal in the house of Anāthapiṇḍika, he went out by the east gate and resided at Pubbārāma. Therefore, when the people saw the Exalted One going out by the north gate, they knew that he was about to set out on a journey.

When, therefore, on that day, Visākhā heard that the Teacher was going in the direction of the north gate, she went to him quickly, saluted him, and said, “Reverend Sir, is it your intention to set out on a journey?” “Yes, Visākhā.” “Reverend Sir, I am causing a dwelling-place to be erected for you at an expenditure of all this treasure. Pray turn back, Reverend Sir.” “Visākhā, this is a journey which does not permit of my turning back.”

Visākhā thought to herself, “Doubtless the Exalted One has good reason for what he is doing.” So she said to the Teacher, “Well then, Reverend Sir, before you depart, direct some monk who knows what should be done and what should not be done to remain behind.” [414] “Visākhā, take the bowl of whatever monk you please.”

Now although she was especially fond of Elder Ānanda, yet, thinking to herself, “Elder Moggallāna the Great possesses great magical power, and with his assistance my work will be made easy,” she took the bowl of Elder Moggallāna the Great. The Elder looked at the Teacher, and the Teacher said, “Moggallāna, take with you your retinue of five hundred monks and turn back.” The Elder did as he was commanded.

By the supernatural power of Elder Moggallāna the Great they went fifty or sixty leagues for trees and stones and returned with great trees and stones on the same day. Nor did it tire them to hoist trees and stones on the carts, nor did an axle break, and in but a short time they erected a dwelling-place two stories high. There were five hundred rooms on the ground floor and five hundred rooms on the floor above; thus the dwelling-place contained a thousand rooms in all. The Teacher, after journeying about for nine months, returned to Sāvatthi. In those nine months also the work on Visākhā’s dwelling was completed, and she was building a pinnacle of solid, beaten, ruddy gold, intended to hold sixty water-pots. [415]

When Visākhā heard that the Teacher was on his way to the Jetavana, she went forth to meet him, and conducting him to the monastery which she was building, exacted the following promise from him, “Reverend Sir, bring the Congregation of Monks here for these four months and take up your residence here, and I will have the dwelling-place for the monks finished.” The Teacher consented to come. Thenceforth she gave alms to the Congregation of Monks presided over by the Buddha in that very monastery.

Now a certain friend of hers came to her with a piece of cloth worth a hundred thousand pieces of money and said to her, “Friend, I should like to spread this small carpet in your dwelling-place. Tell me where I may spread it.” Visākhā replied, “If I say to you, ‘There is no room,’ you will think, ‘She does not wish to give me any space;’ therefore you yourself may look through the two floors and the thousand rooms and see whether there is any place to lay your carpet.” So the woman took the carpet worth a hundred thousand pieces of money and went through the whole dwelling-place. But finding no coverings of less value than her own, she thought to herself, “I shall obtain no merit in the building of this dwelling-place,” and overcome with sadness, stopped in a certain place and stood there weeping.

Elder Ānanda saw her and asked her, “What are you weeping for?” She told him what was the matter. Said the Elder, “Do not grieve. I will show you where you can spread your carpet. Make of it a mat for the feet and spread it between the foot of the stairs and the place where the monks wash their feet. When the monks bathe their feet, they will first wipe their feet there [416] before going into the monastery. Thus you will earn abundant merit.” It appears that Visākhā had overlooked this place.

After Visākhā had for four months given alms to the Congregation of Monks presided over by the Buddha, on the last day she gave cloth for robes to the Congregation of Monks, each novice receiving cloth for robes worth a thousand pieces of money each. Last of all she gave medicines to the monks, filling the bowl of each monk. The treasure she spent in the giving of alms amounted to nine crores. Thus in all she spent twenty-seven crores of treasure in the Religion of the Buddha, nine crores for the site of the monastery, nine crores to build it, and nine crores for alms. No other woman in the world gave away so much money as this woman who lived in the house of a heretic.

On the day when the monastery was completed and the festival of the opening of the monastery was in progress, as the shadows of evening lengthened, she walked round about the monastery, accompanied by her children and her grandchildren and her great-grandchildren. And then she thought within herself, “Now is entirely fulfilled the prayer which I prayed in times of yore.” And in five, stanzas, with her sweet voice, she breathed forth the following Solemn Utterance:

When shall I give the gift of a monastery, a pleasing dwelling-place plastered with cement and mortar?

Fulfilled is my desire.

When shall I give the furnishings of a lodging, beds and chairs and mats and pillows? Fulfilled is my desire. [417]

When shall I give the gift of food, ticket-food flavored with pure meat-broths? Fulfilled is my desire.

When shall I give the gift of robes, Benāres cloth, linens and cottons? Fulfilled is my desire.

When shall I give the gift of medicaments, ghee and butter and honey and oil and jaggery? Fulfilled is my desire.

The monks, hearing the sound of her voice, said to the Teacher, “Reverend Sir, during all this time we have never known Visākhā to sing. But to-day, surrounded by her children and her grandchildren and her great-grandchildren, she is going round and round the monastery singing. Is her bile out of order or has she gone mad?” The Teacher replied, “Monks, my daughter is not singing. But her Earnest Wish is now fulfilled, and her heart is filled with joy at the thought, ‘The prayer I prayed is now fulfilled,’ and she is breathing forth a Solemn Utterance as she walks about.” “But, Reverend Sir, when was it that she prayed this prayer?” “Do you wish to hear, monks?” “Yes, Reverend Sir, we wish to hear.” Thereupon the Teacher told them the following