English · E. B. Cowell (ed.), R. Chalmers, W. H. D. Rouse, H. T. Francis, R. A. NeilThe giant Ajjun too who wrought such woe, Round whose huge bulk a thousand arms once grew, Each several pair with its own threatening bow, Heaped on the sacred flame the offerings due.” Then he went on describing the glory of the Brahmins and how the best gifts are to be given to them. “That ancient king who feasted them so well Became at last a god, old stories tell. King Mujalinda long the fire adored, Glutting its thirst with all the ghee he poured; And at the last the earned reward it brought, He found the pathway to the heaven he sought.” He also repeated these stanzas to illustrate this lesson: “Dujipa lived a thousand years in all, Chariots and hosts unnumbered at his call; But an ascetic’s life was his at last, And from his hermitage to heaven he past. Sagara all the earth in triumph crost, And raised a golden sacrificial post; None worshipped fire more zealously than he, And he too rose to be a deity. The milk and curds which Anga, Kasi's lord, In his long offerings so profusely poured, Swelled Ganga to an ocean by their flood, Until at last in Sakka’s courts he stood. Great Sakka’s general on the heavenly plain, By soma-offerings did the honour gain; He who now marshals the immortal powers Rose from a mortal sin-stained lot like ours. Brahma the great Creator, he who made The mountains landmarks in his altar yard, Whose hest the Ganges in its path obeyed, By sacrifice attained his great reward.” Then he said to him, ‘“Brother, know you how this sea became salt and undrinkable” “I know not, Arittha.” “You only know how to injure Brahmins,—listen to me.” Then he repeated a stanza: “A hermit student, versed in prayer and spell, Once stood upon the shore, as I’ve heard tell; He touched the sea,—it forthwith swallowed him, And since that day has been undrinkable.” “These Brahmins are all like this”; and he uttered another stanza: “When Sakka first attained his royal throne, His special favour upon Brahmins shone; East, west, north, south, they made their ritual known, And found at last a Veda of their own.” Thus Arittha described the Brahmins and their sacrifices and Vedas. When they heard his words, many Nagas came to visit the Bodhisatta’s sick-bed, and they said to one another, ‘He is telling a legend of the past,” and they seemed to be in danger of accepting false doctrine. Now the Bodhisatta heard it all as he lay in his bed, and the Nagas told him about it; then the Bodhisatta reflected, “Arittha is telling a false legend,—I will interrupt his discourse, and put true views into the assembly.” So he rose and bathed, and put on all his ornaments, and sat down in the pulpit and gathered all the Naga multitude together. Then he sent for Arittha and said to him, “Arittha, you have spoken falsely when you describe the Brahmins and the Vedas, for the sacrifice of victims by all these ceremonies of the Vedas is not held to be desirable and it does not lead to heaven,—see what unreality there is in your words”; so he repeated these gathas describing the various kinds of sacrifice: “These Veda studies are the wise man’s toils, The lure which tempts the victims whom he spoils; A mirage formed to catch the careless eye, But which the prudent passes safely by. The Vedas have no hidden power to save The traitor or the coward or the knave; The fire, though tended well for long years past, Leaves his base master without hope at last. Though all earth’s trees in one vast heap were piled To satisfy the fire’s insatiate child, Still would it crave for more, insatiate still,—How could a Naga hope that maw to fill? Milk ever changes,—thus where milk has been Butter and curds in natural course are seen; And the same thirst for change pervades the fire, Once stirred to life it mounts still higher and higher. Fire bursts not forth in wood that’s dry or new, Fire needs an effort ere it leaps to view; If dry fresh timber of itself could burn, Spontaneous would each forest blaze in turn. If he wins merit who to feed the flame Piles wood and straw, the merit is the same When cooks light fires or blacksmiths at their trade Or those who burn the corpses of the dead. But none, however zealously he prays Or heaps the fuel round to feed the blaze, Gains any merit by his mummeries,—- The fire for all its crest of smoke soon dies. Were Fire the honoured being that you think, Would it thus dwell with refuse and with stink, Feeding on carrion with a foul delight, Where men in horror hasten from the sight? Some worship as a god the crested flame, Barbarians give to water that high name; But both alike have wandered from their road: Neither is worthy to be called a god. To worship fire, the common drudge of all, Senseless and blind and deaf to every call, And then one’s self to live a life of sin,—How could one dream that this a heaven could win? These Brahmins all a livelihood require, And so they tell us Brahma worships fire; Why should the increate who all things planned Worship himself the creature of his hand? Doctrines and rules of their own, absurd and vain, Our sires imagined wealth and power to gain; ‘Brahmins he made for study, for command He made the Khattiyas; Vessas plough the land; Suddas he servants made to obey the rest; Thus from the first went forth his high behest’ We see these rules enforced before our eyes, None but the Brahmins offer sacrifice, None but the Khattiya exercises sway, The Vessas plough, the Suddas must obey. These greedy liars propagate deceit, And fools believe the fictions they repeat; He who has eyes can see the sickening sight; Why does not Brahma set his creatures right? If his wide power no limits can restrain, Why is his hand so rarely spread to bless? Why are his creatures all condemned to pain? Why does he not to all give happiness? Why do fraud, lies, and ignorance prevail? Why triumphs falsehood,—truth and justice fail? I count your Brahma one th’ injust among, Who made a world in which to shelter wrong. Those men are counted pure who only kill Frogs, worms, bees, snakes or insects as they will,—- These are your savage customs which I hate,—Such as Kamboja hordes might emulate. If he who kills is counted innocent And if the victim safe to heaven is sent, Let Brahmins Brahmins kill—so all were well—And those who listen to the words they tell. We see no cattle asking to be slain That they a new and better life may gain,—Rather they go unwilling to their death And in vain struggles yield their latest breath. To veil the post, the victim and the blow The Brahmins let their choicest rhetoric flow; ‘The post shall as a cow of plenty be Securing all thy heart’s desires to thee’; But if the wood thus round the victim spread Had been as full of treasure as they said, 1 See p. 106. The Kambojas were a north-western tribe who were supposed to have lost their original Aryan customs and to have become barbarous, see Manu, x. 44. As full of silver, gold and gems for us, With heaven’s unknown delights as overplus, They would have offered for themselves alone And kept the rich reversion as their own. These cruel cheats, as ignorant as vile, Weave their long frauds the simple to beguile, ‘Offer thy wealth, cut nails and beard and hair, And thou shalt have thy bosom’s fondest prayer.’ The offerer, simple to their hearts’ content, Comes with his purse, they gather round him fast, Like crows around an owl, on mischief bent, And leave him bankrupt and stripped bare at last, The solid coin which he erewhile possessed, Exchanged for promises which none can test. Like grasping strangers! sent by those who reign The cultivators’ earnings to distrain, These rob where’er they prowl with evil eye,—No law condemns them, yet they ought to die. The priests a shoot of Butea must hold As part o’ the rite sacred from days of old; Indra’s right arm’tis called; but were it so, Would Indra triumph o’er his demon foe? Indra’s own arm can give him better aid,’Twas no vain sham which made hell’s hosts afraid. ‘Each mountain-range which now some kingdom guards Was once a heap in ancient altar-yards, And pious worshippers with patient hands Piled up the mound at some great lord’s commands.’ So Brahmins say,—fie on the idle boast, Mountains are heaved aloft at other cost; And the brick mound, search as you may, contains No veins of iron for the miner’s pains. A holy seer well known in ancient days, On the seashore was praying, legend says; There was he drowned and since this fate befell The ocean’s waves have been undrinkable. Rivers have drowned their learned men at will By hundreds and have kept their waters still; Their streams flow on and never taste the worse, Why should the sea alone incur the curse? And the salt-streams which run upon the land Spring from no curse but own the digger’s hand. At first there were no women and no men;’Twas mind first brought mankind to light,—and then, Though they all started equal in the race, 2Their various failures made them soon change place; It was no lack of merit in the past, But present faults which made them first or last. A clever low-caste lad would use his wit, And read the hymns nor find his head-piece split; The Brahmins made the Vedas to their cost When others gained the knowledge which they lost. Thus sentences are made and learned by rote In metric forms not easily forgot,—The obscurity but tempts the foolish mind, They swallow all they’re told with impulse blind. Brahmins are not like violent beasts of prey, No tigers, lions of the woods are they; They are to cows and oxen near akin, Differing outside they are as dull within. If the victorious king would cease to fight And live in peace with his friends and follow right, Conquering those passions which his bosom rend, What happy lives would all his subjects spend! The Brahmin’s Veda, Khattiya’s policy, Both arbitrary and delusive be, They blindly grope their way along a road By some huge inundation overflowed. In Brahmin’s Veda, Khattiya’s policy, One secret meaning we alike can see; For after all, loss, gain and glory, and shame Touch the four castes alike, to all the same. As householders to gain a livelihood Count all pursuits legitimate and good, So Brahmins now in our degenerate day Will gain a livelihood in any way. The householder is led by love of gain, Blindly he follows, dragged in pleasure’s train, Trying all trades, deceitful and a fool, Fallen alas! how far from wisdom’s rule.” The Great Being, having thus confuted their arguments, established his own doctrine, and when they heard his exposition the assembly of Nagas was filled with joy. The Great Being delivered the outcast Brahmin from the Naga-world and did not wound him with a single contemptuous speech. Sagara-brahmadatta also did not let the appointed day pass, but went with his complete army to his father’s dwelling-place. The Great Being also, having proclaimed by beat of drum that he would visit his maternal uncle and grandfather, crossed over from the Yamuna and went first to that hermitage with great pomp and magnificence, and his remaining brothers and his father and mother came afterwards. At that moment Sagara-brahmadatta, not recognising the Great Being, as he approached with his great retinue, asked his father: ‘Whose drums are these whose tabours, conchs, and what those instruments, whose voice Swells with deep concert through the air and makes the monarch’s heart rejoice? Who is this youth who marches there, with quiver and with bow arrayed, Wearing a golden coronet that shines like lightning round his head? Who is it that approaches there, whose youthful countenance shines bright, Like an acacia brand which glows in a smith’s forge with steady light?