The original translator is unknown and is now cataloged in the Later Han records.
Chapter Six: Evil Friend
At that time, the World-Honored One, surrounded by the multitude, was being offered to, honored, respected, and praised. Then the Tathāgata, joyfully smiling, emitted from his face a great radiance, blue, yellow, red, and white, called Great Compassion, shining far in the ten directions, ascending up to the Ākāniṣṭha Heaven, descending down to the eighteen hells. It shone upon the body of Devadatta, and the various sufferings of his body were thereby brought to peace. Then the assembly, with one voice, praised the Tathāgata, saying: “Excellent! Excellent! World-Honored One! Truly great is your compassion! Truly great is your mercy! You are able to be equal in mind toward both foes and kin. Devadatta always harbors an evil heart, seeking to harm the Tathāgata, yet the World-Honored One does not regard it as affliction, but pities and sorrows over him, emitting the radiance of great compassion, shining far upon his body.”
At that time the Tathāgata universally addressed the multitude, saying: “Devadatta is not one who harms me only in this present life, but in past lives also he constantly sought to harm me. By the power of compassion and mercy, I enabled him to receive deliverance.”
Then Ānanda, observing that the multitude all had doubts in their hearts, rose from his seat, bared his right shoulder, set his right knee upon the ground, knelt with joined palms, and addressed the Buddha, saying: “World-Honored One! In past lives, when Devadatta sought to harm the World-Honored One, what were those affairs?”
The Buddha told Ānanda: “Listen attentively! I shall now explain them to you in detail.”
The Buddha said: “In a past life, countless thousands of years ago, there was a country named Benares. In it there appeared a Buddha named Vipaśyin, the Tathāgata, the Worthy of Offerings, the Perfectly Awakened One, the Perfect Clarity and Conduct one, the Well Gone, the Knower of the World, the Unsurpassed Leader, the Teacher of Heavenly and Human Beings, Buddha, the World-Honored One. He dwelt in the world, teaching and transforming, for ten thousand years. After his extinction, the True Dharma remained in the world for twelve thousand years. When the semblance Dharma had perished, the king of Benares was named Maharaja. He was wise and sagacious, benevolent and virtuous, governing the country with the True Dharma, never wronging the people. The king ruled over sixty small kingdoms, eight hundred villages, and five hundred white elephants. His twenty thousand consorts had no sons. The king himself prayed and offered sacrifices to various mountain, river, pool, and tree deities. After a full twelve years, the king’s chief queen conceived; then the second queen also conceived. The king was greatly joyful, personally offering them care, providing their beds, seats, and food soft and refined. When the ten months were completed, the prince was born, with a proper form, wondrous complexion, and dignified beauty, complete with human marks. The second queen likewise gave birth to a boy. The king was greatly joyful, summoned all ministers and officials, together with the physiognomists and brāhmaṇas, and, holding the children, showed them, commanding them to determine their names.
“The physiognomists asked: ‘When this son was born, what auspicious signs appeared?’ It was answered: ‘For the first prince, his mother’s nature and conduct were formerly evil, hateful, jealous, arrogant, and proud. Since her pregnancy, her disposition became gentle and harmonious, her countenance kind and pleasing, her words accompanied with smiles; she would inquire of others’ needs beforehand, speak softly and beneficially; compassionate and pitying toward beings, like unto an infant child.’ The physiognomists answered: ‘This is the son’s merit and virtue that has made the mother thus.’ Therefore they gave him the name Prince Noble Friend.
“As for the prince born of the second queen, the physiognomists asked: ‘When this son was born, what auspicious signs appeared?’ It was answered: ‘His mother’s nature had always been gentle, inquiring of others’ needs beforehand, her words soft and mild, able to accord with all hearts. Since her pregnancy, her nature suddenly became violent and evil, her words harsh and cruel, filled with jealousy, hatred, and delusion.’ The physiognomists answered: ‘This is the son’s karmic conduct that has made the mother thus. His name should be given as Prince Evil-Friend.’
“They were nourished with milk and grew up. By the age of fourteen years, Prince Noble Friend was wise, compassionate, and benevolent, delighting in giving. His parents cherished and loved him with partiality, regarding him as their very eyes. Prince Evil-Friend, his nature being violent and evil, was despised by his parents and not pleasing to behold. He was jealous of his elder brother, constantly seeking to harm him, in all matters never following his elder brother, but always opposing and contradicting.
“Prince Noble Friend, accompanied by attendants before and behind him, with music, songs, and dances being performed, surrounded by a great assembly, went out of the city to observe. He saw there were people plowing the fields; as the earth was turned, worms were brought up, and crows immediately pecked and swallowed them. From afar Prince Noble Friend saw this, and in his heart he felt pity and sorrow. Having grown up within the deep palace, he had never seen such things before. He asked those around him, saying: “What are they doing, that they harm and kill each other?” Those around him answered: “Prince! The existence of the kingdom depends on the people; the existence of the people depends on food and drink; food and drink come from the cultivation of the fields and the planting of the five grains, whereby life can be preserved.” The prince thought in his heart: “Suffering indeed! Suffering indeed!”
“Proceeding a little further, he saw many men and women together spinning and weaving, going back and forth busily, wearied and toiling with hardship. The prince asked: “What are they making here?” Those around him answered: “Prince! These people are spinning and weaving, making various garments, to cover shame and to conceal the body.” The prince said: “This too is laborious and suffering, it is the same.”
“Continuing further on, he saw many people slaughtering cattle, camels, and horses, and flaying pigs and sheep. The prince asked: “What people are these?” Those around him answered: “These are people who slaughter and sell meat, using it for their own survival, to provide clothing and food.” When the prince heard this, his hair stood on end and his skin shuddered. He said these words: “Strange indeed! Painful indeed! To kill living beings, the heart cannot bear it; the strong and the weak mutually injure one another. To kill life in order to nourish life, the accumulated guilt will bring calamities through many kalpas.”
“Continuing further on, he saw many people using nets to catch birds, and bait to fish, recklessly killing the innocent, the strong and the weak oppressing one another. The prince asked: “What people are these? What are they doing?” Those around him answered: “Prince! This is netting birds and fishing. Such various acts are done in order to provide clothing and food.” When the prince heard these words, sorrowful tears filled his eyes: “The beings of the world plant the very root of all evil deeds. The various sufferings never cease. I grieve and am not joyful.” He then turned his chariot back toward the palace.
“The king asked the prince: “Why is it that having gone out and returned, you are so sorrowful?” The prince recounted in detail all the matters above to his father, the king. Hearing these words, the king said to the prince: “All these things have always been so. Why should you be sorrowful over them?” The prince said: “Now I wish to make a request of my father. Will my father grant it?” The king said: “You are my son, I cherish and care for you greatly, and will not oppose your wishes.” The prince said: “I wish to receive from my father all the royal treasuries, all wealth, jewels, food and drink, in order to make offerings and give alms to all.” The king said: “According to your wish, I will not oppose my son’s heart.”
“Prince Noble Friend then ordered his close ministers to open the king’s treasuries. Using five hundred great elephants to carry the treasures, he went beyond the four gates of the city, proclaiming throughout the land: “Whoever wishes to obtain clothing, bedding, or food and drink, may freely take them and go.” The name of Prince Noble Friend spread far in the eight directions, and all people gathered together. In a short while, one-third of the treasures had been used. Then the ministers who managed the treasuries entered the palace and reported to the king: “Of all the treasuries, the prince has already used one-third. The king should give thought to this matter.” The king said: “This is the prince; do not oppose him.”
“After a little more time had passed, the ministers all deliberated: “The existence of the kingdom depends upon the treasuries. If the treasuries are exhausted, the kingdom will also be empty.” They again went to report to the king: “All the treasures have now been used up by two-thirds. The king should give thought to this matter.” The king said: “He is my prince; do not oppose him. You may delay a little, and do not let things happen as he wishes.”
“Prince Noble Friend wished to open the treasuries. At that time, the minister in charge of guarding the storehouses happened to be away on business and was not present. When earnestly pursued and sought, they missed one another and did not meet. Prince Noble Friend said: “This petty man, how dare he oppose my intent? Surely it must be my father the king’s order. A filial son should not exhaust the treasuries of his parents. Now I myself must seek treasures to fully provide for all beings. If I cannot give to all beings sufficient clothing, bedding, food, and drink, satisfying their hearts by bestowing upon them, how could I be called the son of a great king?”
“Then he gathered together all the ministers and officials for discussion, saying: “In seeking wealth and profit, which occupation is supreme?” Among them one foremost minister said: “In the world, when seeking profit, nothing surpasses first the plowing of fields; planting yields returns ten thousandfold.” Another minister said: “In the world, when seeking profit, nothing surpasses first the rearing of living beings; pasturing and breeding brings the greatest benefit.” Another minister said: “In the world, when seeking profit, nothing surpasses first entering the sea to gather wondrous treasures. If one were to obtain the maṇi-jewel, then one could according to all wishes give sufficiently to all beings.”
“Prince Noble Friend said: “Only this accords most with my heart.” He then entered the palace and informed his father the king: “Your son now wishes to enter the great sea and gather wondrous treasures.”
“The king, hearing these words, was as one who has choked—unable to swallow and unable to spit them out. He said to the prince: “The kingdom is yours, the treasuries and jewels may be taken at will. Why must you yourself enter the sea? You are my son, raised within the deep palace. When you sleep, there are curtains and canopies; when you eat, you may choose as you please. Now if you journey afar, who will know your hunger, thirst, cold, or heat? Moreover, within the great sea are countless perils—not only one kind: there may be evil spirits and venomous nāgas, swift torrents and fierce waves, violent winds, whirlpools, surging billows and returning currents; mountains of shifting waters, makara great fishes. Of the thousands and tens of thousands who go, only one or two arrive. Why now do you wish to enter the great sea? I shall not permit you to go.”
“Prince Noble Friend then cast himself down with the five parts of his body touching the ground, placing his four limbs and head upon the earth, and said thus: “If my parents do not permit me to enter the sea, then here I will forsake my life and never rise again.”
“At that time the great king and his consorts, seeing this, fixed their eyes upon him without a moment’s turning away, and came forward to admonish him: “You may rise and take food.” The prince said: “If you do not grant that I enter the sea, I will never eat or drink.” The king and his consorts were sorrowful and distressed; those nearby wept and cried, grieving and lamenting, anguished and falling to the ground. Thus it continued: one day without food or drink, two days, three days, until six days. The parents grieved, fearing he could not survive. On the seventh day they came forward, holding his hands and feet, weeping, and with gentle words persuaded him: “You may rise and take food. This body that borrows food and drink depends upon food and drink in order to remain and stand. Without food and drink, your life cannot be preserved.”
“The prince said: “If my parents do not permit me, I will surely die here, never to rise again.””
Then the chief queen spoke to the king, saying: “The heart of our son is difficult to move and cannot be opposed. How can we bear to see this child forsake his life here? May the great king extend compassion and allow him to enter the sea. Perhaps there may be even a one-in-ten-thousand chance of success. If now you do not permit it, he will surely die here.” The king, unable to bear refusal, then gave his consent.
“At that time Prince Noble Friend joyfully rose and, with head and face, prostrated at the feet of his father the king. The surrounding consorts and countless hundreds of thousands of maidens asked one another: “Is Prince Noble Friend now dead or alive?” The answer was: “The prince has now already risen, joyfully eating and drinking.” The king asked the prince: “You are so intent on entering the great sea—what do you wish to do?” The prince answered: “Great King! I wish to obtain the maṇi great jewel, so that I may fully provide all that beings require.”
Then the great king issued a proclamation throughout: “Whoever wishes to enter the sea, if he can depart and return, for seven generations his clothing, food, and treasures shall lack nothing. I will provide all that is needed for the journey—carts, ships, and supplies. Prince Noble Friend also wishes to enter the sea to seek the wondrous maṇi jewel.” When the multitude heard this, they joyfully gathered. Altogether five hundred people said: “Great King! We shall now follow the prince.”
“At that time in the country of Benares there was a master of navigation who had journeyed to and from the great sea many times before, well knowing the conditions of open and blocked routes. But he was eighty years of age, and both his eyes were covered in blindness.
“Then the great king of Benares went to the master and said to him: “Master! I have but one son, who has never gone out beyond the palace gates. I entreat you, venerable master, to enter the sea, and may you accompany him.” Then the master wept aloud and said: “Great King! The hardships and dangers of the great sea are not of one kind only. Of the tens of thousands who go, only one or two arrive. How can the king now allow the prince to traverse such perilous paths?” The king told the master: “Because of pity and compassion for him, I allow and consent.” The master said: “I dare not disobey.” Then Prince Noble Friend prepared the provisions for five hundred men’s journey, transporting them to the shore of the great sea.
At that time his younger brother, Prince Evil-Friend, thought thus: “Prince Noble Friend is always the one whom our parents favor and cherish. Now if he enters the great sea and obtains wondrous treasures, and if he returns, then surely our parents will abandon me.” Having thought thus, he went and told his parents: “Now I also wish to follow Noble Friend into the sea to seek treasures.” The parents, hearing this, replied: “As you wish. When the road is dangerous and difficult, brothers together will surely be able to rescue one another.”
“When they had reached the great sea, they fastened their ship with seven iron chains and remained moored for seven days. At sunrise, Prince Noble Friend beat the drum and proclaimed: “All of you here, who wish to enter the sea? Whoever wishes to enter the sea should remain silent. If any are attached to parents, brothers, wives, children, or the pleasures of Jambudvīpa, let them return now, and do not go on account of me. Why is this? Within the great sea there are difficulties not of one kind only. Of the tens of thousands who go, only one or two arrive.” After this proclamation, the assembly was silent. Then one chain was loosed, and they boarded the ship. Each day he proclaimed thus, and each day one chain was released and set upon the ship. On the seventh day all seven chains were loosed, and they set them upon the ship, raised the sails to the wind, and departed. Because of the prince’s compassionate heart and the power of his merit, they encountered none of the various dangers and thus arrived at the Ocean Island, reaching the Mountain of Treasures.
“When they had come to the place of jewels, Prince Noble Friend beat the drum and proclaimed: “All of you, know that the road is far and distant. You must quickly load your treasures, and at most you may remain seven days.” He also said: “These treasures are heavy, and in Jambudvīpa they are not of great value. Do not load the ships excessively, lest the vessels sink and you cannot reach your destination. Also, do not carelessly pick things up, for the road is long, and they will not be enough to repay your toil.” After the loading was completed, the prince bade farewell to the multitude, saying: “You may return in peace from here. I must still advance further, to seek the maṇi-jewel.”
“Then Prince Noble Friend and the blind master advanced on the path, traveling for seven days, with the water reaching to their knees. Again traveling seven days, the water reached to their necks. Advancing seven more days, they floated and drifted, and thereby passed over. They came to a land where the ground was entirely pure white silver sand. The master asked: “What is this land?” The prince replied: “This land is entirely of white silver sand.” The master said: “There should be mountains of silver if you look around. Do you see them?” The prince said: “In the southeast there appears a silver mountain.” The master said: “This path can reach that mountain.” When they reached the mountain, the master said: “Next you should arrive the land of golden sand.”
At that time the master, weary and exhausted, collapsed to the ground, and said to the prince: “My life surely cannot long endure; I will die here for sure. From this place, the prince should go eastward seven days, and there you will find the Mountain of Gold. From that mountain, proceed further seven days, and the land will be entirely of blue lotus flowers. Advance again seven days, and the land will be entirely of red lotus flowers. Beyond those flowers, there will be a city of seven treasures: its walls entirely of gold, its towers of silver, its panels of walls of red coral; giant clams and agate intermingled within, with pearl nets covering above; seven layers of moats all made of deep blue beryl. That is the dwelling place of the Nāga King of the great sea. In the ear of that Nāga King there is a maṇi wish-fulfilling jewel. Go and beg him for it. If you obtain this jewel, it can send down all manner of seven treasures, filling Jambudvīpa; it can also send down clothing, bedding, food and drink, medicines, music, songs, and dances. In summary: all things that beings require may be made to descend at will; therefore it is called the wish-fulfilling jewel. If the prince obtains this jewel, your original vow shall surely be fulfilled.” Then, when the master had spoken these words, he breathed his last and his life came to an end.
“At that time Prince Noble Friend came forward, embraced the master, and wept aloud: “Alas, how ill-fated I am, bereft of my reliance!” He then covered the master with golden sand, buried him in the earth, circumambulated seven times to the right, bowed in reverence, and departed. Advancing onward he arrived at the Mountain of Gold. After passing the Mountain of Gold, he saw that the ground was covered everywhere with blue lotus flowers, beneath which dwelt blue venomous serpents. These serpents had three kinds of poison, namely: the poison of biting, the poison of touch, and the poison of breath. The serpents coiled their bodies about the stalks of the lotus flowers, their eyes wide open, breathing and staring fixedly at the prince. Then Prince Noble Friend entered into the samādhi of loving-kindness. By the power of samādhi he advanced without delay, treading upon the lotus leaves. At that time the venomous serpents did not harm him, for the power of loving-kindness protected him, and thus he went straight to the dwelling place of the Nāga King. The city had on all four sides seven layers of moats, and within the moats dwelt venomous nāgas, their bodies intertwined, raising their heads and crossing their necks, guarding the gates of the city.
Then the prince arrived outside the city gates, and seeing these venomous nāgas, he held in mind with loving-kindness all beings of Jambudvīpa, saying: “Now if this body of mine is harmed by these venomous nagas, then all beings will lose great benefit.” Then the prince raised his right hand and said to the venomous nāgas: “Know this, I now, for the sake of all beings, wish to see the Nāga King.”
“At that time the venomous nāgas opened a path, allowing the prince to pass through, until he reached the venomous nāgas guarding the seventh moat. The prince then came beneath the city gate, where he saw two jade maidens spinning threads of crystal. The prince asked: “Who are you?” They answered: “We are maidservants of the Nāga King, guarding the outer gate.” After asking, he advanced and entered beneath the middle gate, where he saw four jade maidens spinning threads of silver. The prince again asked: “Are you the wives of the Nāga King?” They answered: “No, we are only maidservants of the Nāga King guarding the middle gate.” After asking, he advanced and entered within the inner gate, where he saw eight jade maidens spinning threads of gold. The prince asked: “Who are you?” They answered: “We are maidservants of the Nāga King guarding the inner gate.” The prince said: “Please report to the Nāga King of the great sea that Prince Noble Friend, son of the king of Benares in Jambudvīpa, has especially come to see him and is now outside the gate.” The gatekeepers immediately reported thus.
“When the Nāga King heard these words, he was filled with doubt and wonder, thinking: “If he were not a person of pure and good merit, he could never have traversed such perilous paths.” He then invited the prince to enter the palace, and the Nāga King himself came forth to receive him.”
The palace of the Nāga King had a floor of deep blue beryl, couches and seats made of the seven treasures, radiating various lights that dazzled the eyes. He invited the prince to be seated, and they exchanged greetings. Then Prince Noble Friend expounded the Dharma for him, instructing and teaching, bringing benefit and joy, and in many ways guiding him, praising the principle of giving, the principle of keeping precepts, and the principle of heavenly and human rewards. At that time the Nāga King of the great sea was exceedingly delighted, and said: “You have labored through a long journey. What is it that you seek?” The prince said: “Great King! All beings in Jambudvīpa, for the sake of clothing, wealth, and food, endure endless sufferings. Now I wish to beg from the Great King the wish-fulfilling maṇi jewel that is in your left ear.” The Nāga King said: “Please accept my meager offerings for seven days, and then I shall certainly present it to you.”
“At that time Prince Noble Friend accepted the invitation of the Nāga King, and after seven days he obtained the maṇi jewel and returned to Jambudvīpa. Then the Nāga King of the great sea dispatched nāga deities who flew through the sky to escort him, so that he was able to reach the shore. When he met his younger brother Evil-Friend, he asked: “Where are your companions now?” Evil-Friend replied: “Noble Friend! The ship sank, and all the people perished. Only I, your younger brother, survived, clinging to corpses in order to preserve my life. All the wealth and goods were completely lost.” Noble Friend replied: “Of all things beneath heaven, nothing is more precious than one’s own life.” The younger brother said: “It is not so. A man would rather die wealthy than live in poverty. How do I know this is so? I once went among the tombs and heard those dead spirits conversing thus.”
“Prince Noble Friend, by nature sincere and upright, spoke truthfully to his younger brother: “Though you have lost your treasures, that does not matter. I have now already obtained the wish-fulfilling maṇi jewel of the Nāga King.” The younger brother asked: “Where is it now?” Noble Friend replied: “Now it is in my topknot.” When the younger brother heard these words, jealousy arose in his heart. Grieving and vexed, he thought: “Our parents have always been partial, cherishing him. Now he has obtained the maṇi jewel. As for me, I am despised and scorned by my parents, no better than rubble and broken tiles.” Thinking thus, he said to Noble Friend: “Excellent! Truly excellent! You have gained this jewel. Now this path is very dangerous, and we must guard carefully.”
“At that time Noble Friend untied the jewel and handed it to his younger brother Evil-Friend, admonishing him: “If you grow weary and fall asleep, then I should keep watch. If I fall asleep, then you should keep watch.” When it was Evil-Friend’s turn to guard the jewel, after his elder brother had fallen asleep, he took two dry bamboo thorns, pierced the eyes of his elder brother, seized the jewel, and departed.
“Then Noble Friend cried out to his younger brother Evil-Friend: “Here are robbers who have blinded me, piercing both my eyes, and taken the jewel away!” But Evil-Friend gave no reply. His elder brother, distressed, thought: “It seems my younger brother Evil-Friend has been killed by the robbers.” Thus he cried out loudly, and his voice startled the spirits, yet for a long while there was no reply. Then the deity of a tree spoke forth, saying: “Your younger brother Evil-Friend is the very thief who harmed you. He pierced your eyes and carried off the jewel. Why now do you call upon Evil-Friend?” When Prince Noble Friend heard these words, he sighed in grief, sorrowing and lamenting, weighed down with distress.
“At that time Evil-Friend, carrying the jewel, returned to his own country, saw his parents, and told them: “Father, mother! By the power of my own merit I preserved my life. Prince Noble Friend and all his companions, because their merit was meager, all drowned and died.” When the parents heard these words, they cried out loudly, fainted, and fell to the ground. Cold water was sprinkled on their faces, and after a long while they revived. The parents said to Evil-Friend: “How is it that you are able to return carrying this precious jewel?” When Evil-Friend heard these words, grief and vexation filled his heart, and he buried the jewel in the earth.
“At that time Prince Noble Friend had been blinded, the dry bamboo thorns still stuck within his eyes, with no one to draw them out. Wandering and turning, not knowing where to go, he suffered greatly, tormented by hunger and thirst, unable to live and unable to die. Gradually he went forward, until he came to the kingdom of Ṛṣibhadra. The king of Ṛṣibhadra had a daughter who had previously been betrothed to Prince Noble Friend of Benares. The king of Ṛṣibhadra had a herdsman named Yūthyā, who pastured five hundred cattle for him, moving with the water and grass.
“At that time Prince Noble Friend was seated in the middle of the road. Then the herd of cattle pressed close and were about to trample him. Among them one bull king placed its four hooves across the body of the prince, allowing the whole herd to pass over, and only then moved its feet away. Turning to the right, it looked back, stretched forth its tongue, and licked the eyes of the prince, pulling out the bamboo thorns.
“At that time the cowherd came afterward and saw him, and asked: “Who are you?” Prince Noble Friend thought to himself: “I should not now recount the whole matter, nor plainly tell what has transpired above, lest my younger brother fall into great misfortune.” So he answered: “I am but a blind beggar.” Then the cowherd looked him over from head to toe, perceiving that his appearance was extraordinary, and said: “My home is nearby, I should bring you there and provide for you.” Then the cowherd led Noble Friend to his house, gave him food and drink of various kinds, and instructed all the men and women, young and old, in his household: “You must serve this man as you would serve me.”
“Thus more than a month passed, until the household grew weary, saying: “Our home is not wealthy—how can we long continue to provide for this blind man?” When Noble Friend heard these words, grief and melancholy filled his heart. After that night, on the following morning, he said to his host: “I now wish to depart.” The host asked: “What dissatisfaction do you feel, that you wish to leave me?” Noble Friend answered: “The fellowship between guest and host, by reason, cannot endure long.” Noble Friend then said: “If you would care for me, then make for me a lute. Escort me to a place of many people, a great city or settlement.”
“The host then followed his wish, obtained a lute for him, and sent him to a populous place within the city of Ṛṣibhadra, then returned in peace. Noble Friend, skilled in playing the lute, produced sounds harmonious and refined, pleasing to the hearts of the multitude. All the people provided him with food and drink, so that even the five hundred beggars along the roads of Ṛṣibhadra were able to eat their fill. At that time the king had an orchard, flourishing in growth, yet constantly afflicted by the harm of birds. Then the keeper of the orchard said to Noble Friend: “Guard the birds for me, and I shall provide well for you.” Noble Friend replied: “I have no eyes—how can I drive away the birds?” The orchard keeper said: “I have a way. I will tie ropes to the treetops and hang bronze bells. You will sit beneath the tree, and when you hear the birds, pull the rope’s end.” Noble Friend replied: “This I can do.” The keeper then brought him beneath the tree, arranged him properly, and departed.
“Noble Friend guarded against the birds, and at the same time played the lute for his own delight. At that time the daughter of the king of Ṛṣibhadra came with her attendants to wander in the orchard. Seeing this blind man, she approached him and asked: “Who are you?” He answered: “A blind beggar.” When the princess saw him, love arose in her heart, and she could not leave him. The king then sent a messenger to call his daughter back. The daughter said: “I will not go. Bring me food here.” She ate together with the blind man, and then told the great king: “I ask that the great king now give me in marriage to this blind man; this accords wholly with my heart’s wish.”
“The king said: “Are you possessed by spirits and demons, that your mind is deranged? How could you live together with this blind man? Do you not know? Formerly your father and mother already betrothed you to Prince Noble Friend, son of the king of Benares. Noble Friend has now entered the sea and not yet returned. How could you take a beggar as husband?” The daughter said: “Even so, though I must forfeit my life, I will never depart from him.” When the king heard these words, he could not refuse. He then sent messengers to bring the blind man and confined him within a quiet chamber.
“Then the princess came to the dwelling of the blind man and said to him: “Do you know? I now wish to be joined with you as husband and wife.” Noble Friend answered: “Whose daughter are you, that you wish to become my wife?” She replied: “I am the daughter of the king of Ṛṣibhadra.” Noble Friend answered: “You are a king’s daughter, I am a beggar—how can we be a fitting match?” The wife said: “I will devote myself to serving you, not opposing your will.”
“Thus ninety days passed. One day the wife went out on a small matter, without telling her husband, and returned only after a long while. Noble Friend reproached her: “Without telling me, you secretly went to meet another. Where did you go before returning?” The wife said: “I do not have affair.” The husband said: “If you do not have affair, who can bear witness for you?” The wife, distressed, her eyes brimming with tears, uttered an oath herself: “If I have affair, then let your eyes never be healed. If it was not so, then let one of your eyes be restored as before.” When she had made this vow, one of her husband’s eyes twitched its eyelid, became as before, bright and clear as a shooting star, and he was able to see his wife. The wife said: “How is it? Do you now believe me?” Noble Friend smiled. The wife said: “You truly do not understand gratitude. I am a princess of a great kingdom, you are a lowly man, yet I have devoted myself to serving you, and you did not trust me.”
“The husband said: “Do you know who I am?” She replied: “I know—you are a beggar.” The husband said: “Not so. I am Prince Noble Friend, son of the king of Benares.” The wife said: “You great fool! How could you speak such words? Prince Noble Friend of the king of Benares has gone to the sea and not yet returned. How can you now say that you are that man? This is falsehood; I do not believe it.” Noble Friend said: “Since my birth, I have never spoken falsehood.” The wife said: “Who can prove whether words are false or true?” The husband said: “If I speak falsehood and deceive you, let this eye never again be healed. If I speak truth, then let my other eye also be restored as before, that you may see with your own eyes.” Then, just as he had vowed, his eye shone forth and was restored, as it had been originally.
“At that time Prince Noble Friend’s eyes were fully restored. His countenance was upright, endowed with the marks of a human, his appearance wondrous and surpassing, unequalled in the world. When his wife beheld him, joy arose in her heart as if she had encountered a sage or saint; she gazed upon him, measuring him from head to foot, and her eyes could not part from him for even a moment. She immediately entered the palace and said to her father the king: “Now my husband is none other than Prince Noble Friend.” The king said: “Foolish and deranged, possessed by spirits and demons, thus you utter such words! Prince Noble Friend entered the sea and has not yet returned. How can you now call this beggar a prince?” The daughter said: “It is not so. If you do not believe, you may see with your own eyes.” The king went forth to see, and as soon as he beheld him, he at once recognized him as Prince Noble Friend. His heart was filled with fear, and he said: “If the king of Benares hears of this, he will surely be greatly offended at me.” He immediately came forward to repent and confess his fault before Prince Noble Friend, saying: “I truly did not know.” The prince said: “Do not grieve. Please only repay my debt of gratitude to that cowherd.”
“Then the king of Ṛṣibhadra took forth gold, silver, jewels, clothing, and food, together with the five hundred cattle he had pastured, and bestowed them all. That man was filled with immeasurable joy, praising again and again: “Prince Noble Friend, though I rendered him little kindness, has rewarded me with such abundant wealth.” At that time the cowherd proclaimed loudly among the multitude: “Secret beneficence receives open repayment. Truly the work of giving brings vast and far-reaching reward.” Then countless multitudes of people rejoiced in their hearts, arousing the mind of giving, relieving all beings, and setting the attainment of Buddhahood as their fundamental aim. The gods in the heavens praised this man, and caused his words to be spread widely.”
“Formerly, before Prince Noble Friend had entered the sea, while he was yet in the palace, he had raised a white goose, providing it with clothing, bedding, and food, accompanying it in walking, standing, sitting, and lying, always together with it. At that time the queen came to the white goose and said to it: “When the prince was in the world, he was always with you. Now that he has entered the great sea and not returned, whether alive or dead is unknown, and I cannot obtain certain news. How can you now not feel gratitude toward the prince?” When the white goose heard these words, it cried out mournfully, its voice sad and plaintive, tears filling its eyes. It replied: “Great King, O Queen! If you wish me to seek the prince, I dare not disobey your command.” Then the queen herself wrote a letter, tied it to the goose’s neck. The white goose cried out, inquiring the direction of the sea, then rose into the sky, circling and flying away. When the queen saw it, trust arose in her heart: “Now this white goose will surely bring back true news of my son’s life or death.”
“The white goose flew to the great sea, searching everywhere, but did not see the prince. Then it flew on, arriving in the land of Ṛṣibhadra. From afar it saw Prince Noble Friend before the palace, folded its wings, and swiftly flew to him. When it arrived, it cried out sorrowfully yet full of joy. The prince at once took down his mother’s letter, bowed to it reverently, opened and read it, and learned that his father and mother, weeping day and night, longing for him, had grieved until they had lost their sight.
“Then the prince himself wrote a letter, recounting in detail all that had transpired, and tied the letter to the goose’s neck. The goose joyfully flew back to Benares. When the parents received their son’s letter, joy and delight filled them, and they praised again and again, saying “Excellent! Excellent!” Then they knew that their son had been harmed by his brother Evil-Friend, who had taken the jewel and caused him to suffer countless hardships. The parents immediately placed handcuffs and fetters upon Evil-Friend, clamped a cangue upon his neck, and cast him into prison. They also sent messengers to tell the king of Ṛṣibhadra: “Why do you now detain my son, causing me such grief and anguish?”
“When the king of Ṛṣibhadra heard these words, fear entered his heart. He immediately prepared carriage, horses, and robes for the prince, and escorted him to the border. The prince sent messengers to inform the king and queen: “Noble Friend has returned from the sea.” Then the king of Ṛṣibhadra arranged music and dancing, attendants before and behind, cleansing, incense burning, streamers, banners, and canopies, bells and drums resounding, to welcome the prince from afar, brought him back into the palace, bestowed his daughter upon him in marriage, and sent people to escort him to the country of Benares.
“When the parents heard that their son had returned, joy without measure filled them. They mounted upon noble elephants, arranged music and dance, cleansing and incense, streamers, banners, and canopies, and went afar to meet their son. The people of the kingdom, both men and women, hearing that the prince, after entering the sea, had returned safely, were likewise filled with immeasurable joy, and all went forth to welcome him. Prince Noble Friend came forward and bowed with head and face to the feet of his parents. The king and queen, being blind, could not see the prince’s form, but felt him with their hands, saying: “Are you my son Noble Friend? Your parents, longing for you, have grieved to this degree.”
“After the prince had inquired of his parents’ well-being, he raised his hands and loudly gave thanks to the petty kings, the ministers, the people of the land, and all the multitude, saying: “You have labored to come here—now please return.” Then Prince Noble Friend said to his father the king: “Where now is my younger brother Evil-Friend?” The king said: “You need not inquire about such a man. Now that evil one is in prison and must not be released.” Prince Noble Friend said: “I wish that Evil-Friend be released, so that I may see him.” Three times he requested thus, and the king could not bear to refuse, so he opened the prison gates.
“At that time Evil-Friend, with fetters upon his hands and feet and a cangue upon his neck, came to see Noble Friend. When the elder brother saw him in such a state, he appealed to his parents, saying: “Please remove the shackles from my younger brother.” After the shackles were removed, he came forward and embraced his brother, gently admonishing and kindly asking him: “You must have suffered greatly, yes? The jewel that you took from me—where is it now?” Having asked thus three times, the younger brother at last replied: “It is in that earth.” Prince Noble Friend recovered the jewel, then came before his parents, knelt down, burned fragrant incense, and immediately made a vow: “If this jewel is indeed the wish-fulfilling jewel, then let the eyes of my parents be restored to brightness as before.” When he had uttered this vow, the eyes of his parents at once were healed. The parents beheld their son, rejoicing greatly, with joy and delight beyond measure.
Then Prince Noble Friend, on the morning of the fifteenth day, bathed in purity, donned clean garments, and burned fragrant jewel incense. Standing upon a lofty pavilion, holding in his hands a censer, with head and face bowed in reverence to the maṇi jewel, he made this vow: “For the sake of all beings in Jambudvīpa I endured great hardship to seek and obtain this jewel.” Then from the east there arose a great wind, dispersing the clouds and mists, leaving the sky clear and pure. Moreover, all the filth of Jambudvīpa—excrement, urine, ashes, dust, and weeds—wherever the cool wind blew, all became pure. By the virtue and power of the jewel, throughout Jambudvīpa there descended fully ripened natural rice, fragrant, soft, sweet, and complete in color and taste, filling the ditches and channels up to the knees. Then there descended precious garments, fine raiment, jeweled rings, hairpins, and bracelets; then there descended gold, silver, the seven treasures, and various wondrous music. In sum, all the requisites of joy desired by beings were fully supplied. Thus the Bodhisattva cultivated great compassion, practiced the perfection of giving, and gave to beings the complete enjoyment of all requisites. Such was the matter.”
The Buddha told Ānanda: “At that time the king of Benares was my father, King Śuddhodana; at that time the mother was my mother, Lady Māyā; at that time Prince Evil-Friend was now Devadatta; at that time Prince Noble Friend was now myself. Ānanda! In past lives Devadatta constantly harbored evil thoughts, seeking to harm me. Yet by the power of forbearance I constantly held the thought of bestowing kindness; therefore I was able to transform him. How much more so now that I have attained Buddhahood?”
When the Buddha had spoken this Dharma, immeasurable hundreds of thousands attained the fruit of Srotāpanna up to the fruit of Arhat; and there were immeasurable hundreds of thousands who all aroused the mind of Anuttarā-samyak-saṃbodhi; and there were immeasurable hundreds of thousands of beings who all aroused the mind of Śrāvaka and Pratyekabuddha.
Ānanda said to the Buddha: “How should this sūtra be named? How should it be upheld and practiced?”
The Buddha said: “This sūtra is named The Buddha Requited Kindness and Supplied All Beings Fully by Skillful Means.”
When the great assembly had heard the sūtra, they rejoiced, made obeisance, and departed.
Furthermore, although Devadatta followed the Buddha and went forth from home, his jealousy was deep and he coveted fame, reputation, and gain. Even though he was able to recite and commit to memory scriptures as much as could be borne upon sixty thousand fragrance elephants, yet he could not escape the karmic guilt of falling into Avīci hell. This man was deeply intimate with King Ajātaśatru, their minds in accord, and King Ajātaśatru trusted and accepted his words. At that time Devadatta said to King Ajātaśatru: “You may become the new king, and I also wish to become the new Buddha.” King Ajātaśatru replied: “This cannot be. My father the king is still alive.” Devadatta said: “You ought to remove him; and I also wish to destroy the Buddha. Then, with the new king and the new Buddha teaching and transforming beings, will this not be most delightful?”
Thus King Ajātaśatru followed his words, killed his own father, and ruled the country of Benares. Devadatta again said to King Ajātaśatru: “I wish to harm the Tathāgata.” King Ajātaśatru said: “The Tathāgata possesses great divine powers, able to know in advance the thoughts of men. How can you now harm him? Moreover, beside the Tathāgata are many great disciples—Śāriputra, Mahāmaudgalyāyana, Kambala, Aniruddha, and others.” Devadatta said to King Ajātaśatru: “May the great king now help me.” The king asked: “How could I help?” Devadatta replied: “Great King! You should establish a prohibition, forbidding the giving of robes, bedding, food, and drink to the bhikṣus.” King Ajātaśatru then widely proclaimed an order: “If anyone gives robes, bedding, food, or drink to the bhikṣus, his hands and feet shall be cut off.”
From then on, all the great disciples and the whole assembly, dwelling with the Buddha at Gṛdhrakūṭa Mountain, went forth to beg for food in order, but were unable to obtain anything for one day up to seven days. Śāriputra and the other great disciples each employed their divine powers, traveling to various places to seek robes and beg for food.
Then Devadatta said to King Ajātaśatru: “The Buddha’s great disciples and others are now not at his side. The Tathāgata is alone. The king may send messengers to invite the Tathāgata. If he enters the palace city, then make five hundred great evil black elephants drink liquor until they are mad with drunkenness. When the Buddha accepts the invitation and comes into the city, release the drunken elephants and have them trample him to death.”
Thus King Ajātaśatru sent messengers to invite the Tathāgata. The Buddha, together with five hundred Arhats, accepted the king’s invitation and went to enter Rājagṛha. At that time King Ajātaśatru released the five hundred drunken elephants. They rushed madly, breaking trees, collapsing walls, roaring and bellowing, charging toward the Tathāgata. At that time the five hundred Arhats were all extremely terrified and flew up into the sky, circling above the Buddha. Ānanda then surrounded the Tathāgata, his heart terrified, unable to leave. At that time the Tathāgata, by the power of compassion, raised his right hand, and from the tips of his five fingers manifested five lions. Their mouths roared forth, and the five hundred drunken elephants, terrified, fell to the ground.
Then the Tathāgata, surrounded by the multitude, entered the king’s palace. At that time King Ajātaśatru came forth to receive him and invited the Buddha to be seated. When the Buddha had sat, King Ajātaśatru pleaded in repentance, saying to the Buddha: “World-Honored One! It was not my fault, it was Devadatta.”
The Buddha said to the great king: “I also know. Devadatta has always sought to harm me, not only now. In past lives too he often sought to harm me. By the power of compassion I have been able to deliver myself from such harm.”
At that time King Ajātaśatru joined his palms, came forward, and said to the Buddha: “World-Honored One! In past lives when Devadatta sought to harm the Tathāgata, what were those affairs?”
The Buddha said: “Listen carefully! I shall explain it to you in detail. In past uncountable kalpas, there was once a great king who delighted in eating goose flesh, and he sent a hunter who constantly spread nets to catch geese. At that time a flock of five hundred geese flew from the north toward the south, and among them one goose king fell into the net. Then the hunter, filled with great joy, came out from his thatched hut, intending to seize and kill it. At that time one goose cried out mournfully, spat blood, and circled without leaving. The hunter bent his bow to shoot it, but the goose did not avoid the arrow, and with its gaze fixed upon the goose king, it beat its wings and flew toward him. The flock of five hundred geese circled in the sky, also unwilling to depart. The hunter, seeing this goose crying out mournfully, spitting blood, unwilling to leave, and not avoiding his bow, thought to himself: ‘Even birds and beasts can cherish and cling to one another, not sparing their own lives—such a thing is thus. How can I now kill this goose king?’ Immediately he opened the net and released the goose king. At that time the goose cried out in joy, flapped its wings, and followed. The five hundred geese, before and behind, surrounded it, flying through the sky and departing.
“The hunter then reported to the great king: ‘A goose king was caught in the net and ought to have been delivered to the royal kitchen for food. But when I saw one goose crying out mournfully, spitting blood, circling and refusing to leave, not avoiding the bow, I was moved by this goose, and immediately released the goose king. The five hundred followers surrounded it before and behind, and all flew away in the sky.’ At that time the great king, hearing these words, felt sorrow in his heart, and at once aroused loving-kindness: ‘Even birds and beasts can love and protect one another’s lives, and such is the matter.’ From that time the great king refrained from eating goose flesh and vowed never again to hunt geese.”
“Great King! You should know, that king at that time is now yourself; that hunter at that time is now Devadatta; that goose which cried out mournfully and spat blood is now Ānanda; that flock of five hundred geese is now the five hundred Arhats; and that goose king at that time is now myself.
“At that time Ānanda’s deep affection was no different than now; at that time the five hundred Arhats soared into the sky, just as now there is no difference; at that time Devadatta always sought to harm me, and by the power of loving-kindness I was delivered.”
When the Buddha had spoken this Dharma, immeasurable hundreds of thousands attained the fruit from the first stage up to the fourth stage; some aroused the mind of Anuttarā-samyak-saṃbodhi; some aroused the mind of the Śrāvaka path or the mind of the Pratyekabuddha.
Furthermore, Devadatta’s evil mind did not cease, and again he thought: “I shall now grow the nails of my ten fingers, letting them become exceedingly long and sharp, and beneath them I shall smear poison. When I go to the Tathāgata and perform the rite of bowing with head and face at his feet, then with my ten fingernails I shall scratch the tops of his feet. When the poison enters his body, he will surely die.” Having thought thus, he did as he intended, and went before the Tathāgata, bowed with head and face, and with his hands grasped the feet. At that time, the poison was transformed into nectar and had no effect at all upon the body of the Tathāgata.
“Again, since Devadatta had not accomplished his desire, he thought thus: “The Tathāgata now sits at the foot of Gṛdhrakūṭa Mountain. I should now ascend the mountain, and from its summit push down a great rock to cut off his life.” Having thought thus, he climbed the mountain and pushed down a rock, which struck and injured the toe of the Buddha. Yet I, with a heart of compassion, regard foes and friends alike, with no difference between them.
“Again, in the distant past, in uncountable and immeasurable kalpas, there was a Buddha who appeared in the world, named Manifestation of Response, the Tathāgata, the Worthy of Offerings, the Perfectly Awakened One, the Perfect Clarity and Conduct one, the Well Gone, the Knower of the World, the Unsurpassed Leader, the Teacher of Heavenly and Human Beings, Buddha, the World-Honored One. After that Buddha entered parinirvāṇa, during the semblance Dharma, there was a meditating bhikṣu who dwelt alone in the forest. At that time the bhikṣu was troubled by lice, and he made an agreement with the lice: “When I sit in meditation, you must remain still and silent.” The lice followed the agreement. Later, on one occasion, a ground flea came near the lice and asked: “Why is your body plump and full of flesh?” The lice replied: “The master on whom I depend constantly practices meditation, and he has taught me the proper times for feeding. By following this method of feeding, my body is plump and healthy.” The flea said: “I too wish to practice this method.” The lice replied: “If you are able, do so according to your wish.” At that time the bhikṣu again sat in meditation. Then the ground flea, smelling the fragrance of flesh and blood, could not restrain itself and bit to drink blood.
“Then the bhikṣu’s heart gave rise to distress. He immediately removed his robe and burned it in the fire.”
The Buddha said: “That meditating bhikṣu at that time was Kāśyapa Buddha in the later era; that ground flea at that time is now Devadatta; and that louse at that time is now myself. Devadatta, for the sake of gain and profit, sought to harm me. Even until this very day, when I have attained Buddhahood, he still, for the sake of gain and profit, has caused the Tathāgata to shed blood. Alive, he has fallen into hell. Devadatta constantly harbors an evil mind, seeking to harm the Tathāgata. If one were to speak in detail of his deeds, even if kalpas were exhausted, they could not all be told. Yet the Tathāgata, by the power of compassion, constantly pities and sorrows over him. Because of encountering Devadatta, I was able swiftly to accomplish Buddhahood. In gratitude for his kindness, I therefore constantly extend compassion toward him.”
At that time the Tathāgata sent Ānanda to the hells to inquire after Devadatta: “Are the sufferings bearable?”
Then Ānanda, accepting the instruction of the Tathāgata, came to the gates of hell and said to the ox-headed wardens: “Call Devadatta out for me.”
The ox-headed wardens said: “Which Buddha’s Devadatta do you ask for? In the past, every Buddha had his own Devadatta.” Ānanda said: “I seek Devadatta of Śākyamuni Buddha.”
Then the ox-headed wardens spoke to Devadatta: “Ānanda is outside and wishes to see you.”
Devadatta immediately said: “Well-come, Ānanda! Does the Tathāgata still show pity toward me?”
Ānanda said: “The Tathāgata has sent me to inquire after you—are the sufferings bearable?”
Devadatta said: “Though I am in Avīci hell, it is to me as peaceful as a bhikṣu entering the third dhyāna.”
The Buddha said: “The Bodhisattva-Mahāsattvas cultivate the Dharma gate of great skillful means, leading and transforming beings. They endure measureless and immense sufferings of birth and death, yet do not regard them as affliction. If someone were to say that Devadatta is truly an evil man and fell into Avīci hell, such a saying would not be correct.” At that time the Tathāgata revealed before the great assembly the hidden and subtle practices of Devadatta’s skillful means.
Then immeasurable hundreds of thousands of Bodhisattvas attained the forbearance of the unarisen Dharma; immeasurable hundreds of thousands aroused the mind of Anuttarā-samyak-saṃbodhi; immeasurable hundreds of thousands attained the fruit from Srotāpanna up to Arhatship. The gods in the sky scattered countless heavenly flowers that covered the great assembly, performed celestial music, radiated vast light, and praised: “Excellent! Excellent! The Dharma spoken by the Tathāgata is truly unprecedented.”
All the great assembly, having heard the Buddha’s teaching, bowed with head and face, rejoiced, and departed.
Dharma Torch 