XX. The Story of the Treasurer  - SE Quadrant, Upper Register, Reliefs 69 - 71

THE JATAKAMALA
Table of Contents:

The Tigress
The King of the Sibis
Small Portion of Gruel
Head of a Guild
The Invincible One
The Hare
The Sage Agastya
Maitribala
Prince Visvantara
The Sacrifice
Lord of the Devas
The Brahman
Unmadayanti
Suparaga
Lord of Fishes
The Quail's Young
The Story of the Jar
The Childless One
The Lotus Stalks
The Treasurer
Kuddabodhi
The Holy Swan
Mahabodhi
The Great Ape
Sarabha
The Ruru Deer
The Monkey Chief
Kshantivadin
The Brahmaloka Inhabitant
The Elephant
Sutasoma
Ayogriha
The Buffalo
The Woodpecker

Adapted from the 19th century translation by J. S Speyer

"When a man becomes famous for holiness,
that person ought not to remain behind his reputation.
If, in fact, he is pious but nothing more,
his very shame must induce him
to take upon himself the burden of that virtue.
For if he is seen in any way acting in accordance
with the people's high opinion of his virtue,
the renown of his glory will shine the more,
whereas in the opposite case he will be like a dried-up well.
When subdued by further knowledge,
a false reputation of virtue will inevitably disappear
and the good renown previously tendered by the people will be
utterly destroyed and hardly able to shoot forth anew."

An unfounded opinion of one's possession of some virtue acts upon the virtuous like a sharp spur. Considering thus, one ought to strive after the realization of virtues as will be taught in the following.

One time the Bodhisattva is said to have been a king's treasurer, illustrious because of his noble family, his learning, and his modest behavior. Having lofty aspirations as well as a clever intellect, he loved honest practices in business. And owing to his thorough study of many branches of science, he attracted notice of others through the elegance of his speech.

Although in the possession of a large estate, out of compassion he made the bliss of his wealth flow in all directions through his bestowal of great gifts of charity. For this very reason he was considered to be the jewel of all householders. And since he was fond of righteousness by nature--as well as adorned by sacred learning and other acquired good qualities--people perceived him to be a vessel worthy of veneration above all others.

One day when that Great Being had gone to the king's palace on business, the Bodhisattva's mother-in-law came to his house to see her daughter. After the usual welcome and inquiries as to each others health, the mother posed the following questions to her daughter:

"Your husband does not disregard you, my dear, I hope? And does he know how to show you attention? He does not grieve you by misconduct, I hope?"

Her daughter bashfully answered with downcast eyes and a soft tone: "Virtuous conduct and behavior such as his are hardly to be met with even in a mendicant who has renounced the world."

Because her hearing and understanding were impaired by old age, the girl's mother did not apprehend the meaning of her daughter words, which the old woman though had been spoken in a rather low voice as if in shame. Having heard the mention of a mendicant who had renounced the world, the girl's mother drew the inference that her son-in-law had become a religious mendicant. Overpowered by the violence of her grief, the mother burst into tears and indulged in lamenting and bewailing her daughter's fate by means of the following words:

"What virtuous behavior and conduct is shown by him who leaves the world in this manner, abandoning his affectionate family? And what has he to do with world-renunciation, after all? What is the reason that such a person as he--so young, handsome, delicate, accustomed to a life of comfort, and a favorite with the king--should feel a vocation for the forest life?

"How did it come to pass that without experiencing any wrong from this side of his family and before the deformity of old age had arrived, he has left suddenly and without pain such an abundantly wealthy home? As one who is adorned by decent behavior, wisdom and love of righteousness, how is it that someone so full of compassion for others could commit such a reckless deed without mercy for his own family?

"Since he has long been in the habit of honoring Sramanas and Brahmans, as well as friends and clients, his own family and even the larger family of the distressed, could not someone who considers a spotless conduct to be his greatest highest wealth not attain in this world what others seek in the forest life? Is he unable to perceive that through his excessive love of the Law he transgresses the path of the Law by abandoning a chaste and devoted wife who is his companion in the performance of religious duties?

"Alas! What a pity! Fie upon that bad management of Destiny that inspires men to abandon their beloved relations without considering the restraints of compassion. Those who act in this manner cannot hope to be successful even in the slightest part of achieving the holiness that they pursue!"

When the Bodhisattva's wife heard her mother's piteous and sincere lamentations of her mother, she grew alarmed. Being impressionable after the nature of women, the countenance of the Bodhisattva's wife expressed the dejection of a mind shaken by the sudden assault of sorrow and pain. Wholly forgetting the subject and misapprehension of the preceding conversation, she reflected as follows:

"My husband has forsaken the world and my mother, upon hearing the sad news, has come here in order to comfort me."

Having thus made up her mind, the young woman began to lament and to weep, and with a loud cry swooned away. Upon hearing of the matter, the other members of the family as well as their attendants also became utterly distressed and burst into lamentations. Upon hearing their wails, the Bodhisattva's neighbors, friends, kinsmen, clients, chiefs of Brahmanical families, in short, the bulk of the citizenry, gathered round his house due to their attachment to the king's treasurer.

As a rule, the Bodhisattva had always shared the good and the ill fortune of the people. In consequence thereof, the people had showed the Bodhisattva the like sympathy in both fortunes as if they had learnt this behavior from him.

Upon his return from the king's residence, the Bodhisattva approached his dwelling-place and heard the lamentations that were resounding from his house. Seeing the large multitude that had assembled there, he ordered his attendant to go on ahead and learn what was the matter. When the attendant returned, he told the Bodhisattva the following:

"There are rumors that Your Honor has given up his wealthy home to become a mendicant. It is this news that has induced so many people to crowd here out of affection."

Upon hearing these words, the Great Being felt shame, his heart of innate pureness alarmed by what appeared to him to be a reproof. He thereafter entered into the following reflection :

"Oh! How much am I honored by the opinion of the people! If after obtaining such a high opinion of my virtues how could I possibly cling to the home-life thereafter? Am I not a coward? Should I allow myself to be known as one who is attached to vice, ill-behaved and a despiser of virtues? If I allow things to proceed in this fashion I will thereafter lose the esteem I now enjoy from the virtuous. So living, this life would become insupportable.

"In return for the honor conferred upon me by public opinion, I will honor them again by realizing it and affected with a pious love of the forest groves I shall indeed detach myself from my home and all of its vice-producing evil passions."

Having thus considered, the Great Being turned back and caused himself to be announced to the king. After being admitted to the king's presence, and after the usual salutations, the Bodhisattva told the king the reason for his sudden and unexpected return to the monarch's court: "I desire to renounce the world and beg Your Majesty's permission to do so."

On hearing this request, the king, troubled and alarmed, asked: "What ails you that you should want to withdraw to the forest, while I who love you more than your friends and kinsmen am still living, as if I were unable to relieve you from that pain either by my wealth or my policy or my great power?" asked the king affectionately.

"Are you in want of money: take it from my side. Is it some grief that makes you suffer? I will cure it. Or is it for any other purpose that you desire to withdraw to the forest, leaving your relations and me, who entreat you in this manner?"

To these affectionate and honorific words of the monarch the Bodhisattva answered in a tone of friendly persuasiveness: "From whence can there arise grief to those whom your arm protects, or sadness caused by want of wealth? It is, therefore, not sorrow that induces me to withdraw to the forest, but another reason. Hear what it is.

"The report is currently circulating, Your Majesty, that I have taken the vows of a religious mendicant. A crowd of people mourn in front of my home because of it, where they weep in sorrow at the thought of it. Since I have been judged a person capable of conceiving such a virtuous purpose, It is for this reason that I wish to depart for the solitude of the forests."

"Your Honor ought not to leave us on account of mere rumor," replied the king. "The worth of someone does not depend on public opinion, neither does someone it acquire or lose illustrious virtues simply because of idle gossip. After all, rumor is merely the result of an unrestrained imagination. Once abroad, it runs about free and unchecked. Ridiculous is he who minds such gossip in earnest; but even more ridiculous is he who overacts in response to it!"

The Bodhisattva said: "No, no, Your Majesty, do not speak so! When a man becomes famous for holiness, that person ought not to remain behind his reputation. If in fact he is pious, but, to say nothing more, his very shame must induce him to take upon himself the burden of that virtue. For if he is seen in any way acting in accordance with the high opinion of his virtue, the renown of his glory will shine the more, whereas in the opposite case he will be like a dried-up well.

"When subdued by further knowledge, a false reputation of virtue will inevitably disappear and the good renown previously tendered by the people will be utterly destroyed and hardly able to shoot forth anew. Thus considering, I am about to abandon my family and property. As these goods are the root of strife and trouble, they are well worth avoiding as if they were black-hooded snakes with wrath-raised heads.

"It does not become you, Your Majesty, to oppose my determination. Do not supply me with money. You are accustomed to show your attachment and gratitude to your loyal servants, as becomes you, I know. Yet of what use to a homeless mendicant would be money, which of necessity involves worldly goods and passions?"

So speaking the Great Being persuaded the king to grant his permission. Although he immediately set out for the forest, his friends, relations, and clients met him on the road. Shedding tears and embracing his feet, they tried to prevent him from departing. Some obstructed his way, others placed themselves before him with respectfully folded hands and a few endeavored to lead him in the direction of his house.

Prompted by their affection, others address him in somewhat harsh terms that expressed blame in one way or another. They tried to persuade him that he ought to have compassion for his friends and family. Others attempted to convince him through arguments that combined verses from sacred texts with deductions of reasoning to show that the state of a householder is the holiest path that one might undertake. Others dwelling on the hardships of the penance-grove urging him to fulfill his obligations and duties in this world to the end while expressing their doubt as to the existence of anything like the reception of a reward in the next world.

The Bodhisattva looked upon all those who were in opposition to his world-renunciation and earnestly endeavoring to hinder his departure for the forest. Seeing all those faces wet with tears, the following thought arose within his mind:

"If a person acts inconsiderately, it is the duty of those who claim to be his friends to care for the good of their friend, be it even in a rough manner. Such, indeed, is acknowledged to be the righteous way of proceeding among the pious. How much the more, if the good they advise be at the same time something pleasant.

"But as to them, how is it possible that they seek to deter me from the forest-life in preference for the home-life as if the former was in some manner in contact with some evil. A dead man or one in danger of death is a person to be wept for, likewise one who has fallen from the path of righteousness. But what may be the meaning of this weeping for one who remains among the living and merely desires to live in the forest?

"If the cause of their sorrow is an impending separation from my person, why will they not dwell in the forest with me? If, however, they prefer their homes to a life with me in the forest, what lies at the heart of their profusion of tears? If their attachment to their own families prevents them from adopting the state of an ascetic, how is it that the like consideration did not formerly present itself to them on the battle-field?

"Having formerly experienced the heroism of their sincere friendship during times of adversity, I now behold that deep-rooted friendship, as it were, embodied in their tears. And yet this performance seems to me to be mere guile when they demonstrate no desire to follow my example.

"With eyes full of tears, heads reverentially bent, and their words interrupted by intermittent sobbing, they exert themselves to hinder the departure of a friend held in high regard. If this is indeed the case, then their love ought to bring them to the praiseworthy resolution of going and wandering about with me. If otherwise, then they are no more than actors in a theatrical performance, much to the shame of the pious!

"Be he ever so wicked a person, if someone is in distress then two or three friends will come to stay with him at least. But for a man who is excellent in virtue, it is oh so hard to find a single comrade who will set out for the forest life! In those battles that I have seen where furious elephants signaled imminent danger, some of the very same friends who now stand weeping at my doorstep formerly presented themselves as paragons of fearlessness. But even they do not offer to follow me now that I am ready to embrace the forest life. No, I am not the same as I was before; nor are they the same for that matter.

"I do not recollect ever having done them any wrong that could ever account for the ruin of their attachment. Does their behavior now due to their careful consideration of my own happiness? Or is it my own lack of virtues that hinders them from wishing to become my forest companions? For who may possess the power of loosening hearts that have been won over by virtue?

"Enough of this indulgence in idle speculation! Since they are unable to perceive the evils, however obvious, that are inherent in the householder's life, nor perceive the virtues to be found in the penance-groves of the forest, well then the eye of knowledge is shut to them!

"As they are incapable of parting with the worldly pleasures that cause suffering, both in this world and the next, not only have they forsaken the penance-grove that can free one from such a bad destiny, but they have forsaken me as well! Fie upon their infatuation with the life of a householder!

"The very sins that lead to my friends' delusions, which are one and the same as those which prevent the whole of creation from achieving tranquillity, I will forcibly crush once I have resided for a time in the penance-grove and thereby obtained the power to do so!"

Thus making up his mind, the Bodhisattva put aside the manifold affectionate entreaties of his friends, made plain his unshaken resolution to depart in kind and gentle terms, and set out for the penance forest.

In this manner, then, an unfounded opinion of the possession of some virtue acts upon the virtuous in the same way as a sharp spur. Thus considering, one ought to strive after the realization of virtues. And for this very same reason a pious man, being esteemed for his virtues as a monk or as a lay-devotee, must strive to be, in fact, adorned with the virtues which are fit for that state. Further, this story may be adduced with the object of showing the difficulty of finding suitable companions for living a religious life.

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