Dilemma the Seventy-FirstVessantara’s Giving

‘Venerable Nāgasena, do all the Bodisats give away their wives and children, or was it only Vessantara the king who did so?’
‘All of them do so, not Vessantara only.’
‘Do they then give them away with their own consent?’
‘The wife, O king, was a consenting party. But the children, by reason of their tender age, lamented. Had they thoroughly understood, they too would have approved.’
‘A hard thing, Nāgasena, was it that the Bodisat carried out, in that he gave away his own children, his only ones, dearly beloved, into slavery to the Brahman. And this second action was harder still, that he bound his own children, his only ones, and dearly beloved, young and tender though they were, with the jungle rope, and then, when he saw them being dragged along by the Brahman—their hands bruised by the creeper—yet could look on at the sight. And this third action was even harder still, that when his boy ran back to him, after loosing the bonds by his own exertion, then he bound him again with the jungle rope and again gave him away. And this fourth action was even harder still, that when the children, weeping, cried: “Father dear, this ogre is leading us away to eat us!” he should have appeased them by saying: “Don’t be afraid.” And this fifth action was even harder still, that when the prince, Jāli, fell weeping at his feet, and besought him, saying: “Be satisfied, father dear, only keep Kaṇhāginā (his little sister). I will go away with the ogre. Let him eat me!"—that even then he would not yield. And this sixth action was even harder still, that when the boy Jāli, lamenting, exclaimed: “Have you a heart of stone then, father, that you can look upon us, miserable, being led away by the ogre into the dense and haunted jungle, and not call us back?"—that he still had no pity. And this seventh action was even harder still, that when his children were thus led away to nameless horrors until they passed gradually to their bitter fate, out of sight—that then his heart did not break, utterly break! What, pray, has the man who seeks to gain merit to do with bringing sorrow on others! Should he not rather give himself away?’
‘It is because what he did, O king, was so difficult, that the sound of the fame of the Bodisat was spread abroad among gods and men through the ten thousand world systems— that the gods exalt him in heaven; and the Titans in the Titan-world, and the Garudas in their abodes, and the Nāgas in the Nāga-world, and the Yakshas where they dwell—that through the ages the reputation of this his glory has been handed down by successive tradition—till now, to-day, it has reached to this meeting of ours, at which we sitting are, forsooth, disparaging and casting a slur on that gift, debating whether it were well given or ill! But that high praise, O king, shows forth the ten great qualities of the intelligent, and wise, and able, and subtle-minded Bodisats. And what are the ten? Freedom from greed, the not clinging (to any worldly aim), self-sacrifice, renunciation, the never turning back again (to the lower state), the equal delicacy and greatness, the incomprehensibility, the rarity, and the peerlessness of Buddhahood. In all these respects is it that the fame of that giving shows forth the great qualities of the Bodisats.’
‘What, venerable Nāgasena? he who gives gifts in such a way as to bring sorrow upon others—does that giving of his bring forth fruit in happiness, does it lead to rebirth in states of bliss?’
‘Yes, O king. What can be said (to the contrary)?’
‘I pray you, Nāgasena, give me a reason for this.’
‘Suppose, O king, there were some virtuous Samaṇa or Brahman, of high character, and he were paralysed, or a cripple, or suffering from some disease or other, and some man desirous of merit were to have him put into a carriage, and taken to the place he wished to go to. Would happiness accrue to that man by reason thereof, would that be an act leading to rebirth in states of bliss?’
‘Yes, Sir. What can be said (to the contrary)? That man would thereby acquire a trained elephant, or a riding-horse, or a bullock-carriage, on land a land-vehicle and on water a water-vehicle, in heaven a vehicle of the gods and on earth one that men could use—from birth to birth there would accrue to him that which in each would be appropriate and fit—and joys appropriate would come to him, and he would pass from state to state of bliss, and by the efficacy of that act mounting on the vehicle of Iddhi he would arrive at the longed-for goal, the city of Nirvāṇa itself.’
‘But then, O king, a gift given in such a way as to bring sorrow upon others does bring forth fruit in happiness, does lead to rebirth in states of bliss —inasmuch as that man by putting the cart-bullocks to pain would attain such bliss.
‘And hear another reason, O king, for the same thing. Suppose some monarch were to raise from his subjects a righteous tax, and then by the issue of a command were to bestow thereout a gift, would that monarch, O king, enjoy any happiness on that account, would that be a gift leading to rebirth in states of bliss
‘Certainly, Sir. What can be said against it? On that account the monarch would receive a hundred thousandfold, he might become a king of kings, a god above the gods, or Brahmā lord of the Brahmā gods, or a chief among the Samanas, or a leader of the Brahmans, or the most excellent among the Arahats.’
‘Then, O king, a gift given in such a way as to bring sorrow upon others does bring forth fruit in happiness, does lead to rebirth in states of bliss—inasmuch as that monarch by giving as a gift what was gained by harassing his people with taxation would enjoy such exceeding fame and glory.’
‘But, venerable Nāgasena, what was given by Vessantara the king was an excessive gift; in that he gave his own wife as wife to another man, and his own children, his only ones, into slavery to a Brahman. And excessive giving is by the wise in the world held worthy of censure and of blame. Just, Nāgasena, as under too much weight the axle-tree of a cart would break, or a ship would sink, as his food would disagree with him who ate too much, or the crops would be ruined by too heavy rain, or bankruptcy would follow too lavish generosity, or fever would come from too much heat, or a man would go mad from excessive lust, or become guilty of an offence through excessive anger, or fall into sin through excessive stupidity, or into the power of robbers through too much avarice, or be ruined by needless fear, or as a river would overflow through excessive inflow, or a thunderbolt fall through too much wind, or porridge boil over through too hot a fire, or a man who wandered about too much would not live long-just, so, Nāgasena, is excessive giving held by the wise in the world as worthy of censure and of blame. And as king Vessantara’s gift was excessive no good result could be expected from it.’
‘Giving exceedingly, O king, is praised, applauded, and approved by the wise in the world; and they who give away anything as a gift just as it may occur to them, acquire fame in the world as very generous givers. Just, O king, as when a man has taken hold of a wild root which by its extraordinary virtues is divine, that moment he becomes invisible even to those standing within arm’s length—just as a medicinal herb by the exceeding power of its nature will utterly kill pain, and put an end to disease—just as fire burns by its exceeding heat, and water puts that fire out by its exceeding cold—just as by its exceeding purity a lotus remains undefiled by water or by mud—just as a (magic) gem by the extraordinary virtue inherent in it procures the granting of every wish—just as lightning by its marvellous quick sharpness cleaves asunder even the diamonds, pearls, and crystals—just as the earth by its exceeding size can support men, and snakes, and wild beasts, and birds, and the waters, and rocks, and hills, and trees—just as the ocean by its exceeding greatness can never be quite filled—just as Sineru by its mighty weight remains immoveable, and space by the greatness of its wide extent is infinite, and the sun by its mighty glory dissipates the darkness—just as the lion in the greatness of its lineage is free from fear—just as a wrestler in the greatness of his might easily lifts up his foe-just as a king by the excellence of his justice becomes overlord, and a Bhikkhu by reason of his very righteousness becomes an object of reverence to Nāgas, and Yakshas, and men, and Māras—just as a Buddha by the excellence of his supremacy is peerless—just so, O king, is exceeding generosity praised, applauded, and approved by the wise in the world; and they who give away anything as a gift, just as it may occur to them, acquire in the world the fame of being nobly generous. And by his mighty giving Vessantara the king, O king, was praised, and lauded, and exalted, and magnified, and famous throughout the ten thousand world systems, and by reason, too, of that mighty giving is it that he, the king Vessantara, has, now in our days, become the Buddha, the chief of gods and men.
‘And now, O king, tell me—is there anything in the world which should be withheld as a gift, and not bestowed, when one worthy of a gift, one to whom it is one’s duty to give, is there?’
‘There are ten sorts of gifts, Nāgasena, in the world that are commonly disapproved of as gifts. And what are the ten? Strong drink, Nāgasena, and festivals in high places, and women, and buffaloes, and suggestive paintings, and weapons, and poison, and chains, and fowls, and swine, and false weights and measures. All these, Nāgasena, are disapproved of in the world as gifts, and those who give such presents become liable to rebirth in states of woe.’
‘I did not ask you, O king, what kinds of gifts are not approved of. But this, O king, I asked: “Is there anything in the world which ought to be withheld, and not bestowed as a gift, if one worthy of a gift were present?”’
‘No, Sir. When faith arises in their hearts some give food to those worthy of gifts, and some give clothes, and some give bedding, and some give dwellings, and some give mats or robes, and some give slave girls or slaves, and some give fields or premises, and some give bipeds or quadrupeds, and some give a hundred or a thousand or a hundred thousand, and some give the kingdom itself, and some give away even their own life.’
‘But then, O king, if some give away even their own lives, why do you so violently attack Vessantara, that king of givers, for the virtuous bestowal of his child and wife? Is there not a general practice in the world, an acknowledged custom, according to which it is allowable for a father who has fallen into debt, or lost his livelihood, to deposit his son in pledge, or sell him?’
‘Yes, that is so.’
‘Well, in accordance therewith was it that Vessantara, O king, in suffering and distress at not having obtained the insight of the Omniscient Ones, pledged and sold his wife and children for that spiritual treasure. So that he gave away what other people had given away, he did what other people had done. Why then do you, O king, so violently attack him, the king of givers?’
‘Venerable Nāgasena, I don’t blame him for giving, but for not having made a barter with the beggar, and given away himself rather, instead of his wife and children.’
‘That, O king, would be an act of a wrong doer, to give himself when he was asked for his wife and children. For the thing asked for, whatever it is, is that which ought to be given. And such is the practice of the good. Suppose, O king, a man were to ask that water should be brought, would any one who then brought him food have done what he wanted?’
‘No, Sir. The man who should have given what he first asked to be brought would have done what he wanted.’
‘Just so, O king, when the Brahman asked Vessantara the king for his wife and children, it was his wife and children that he gave. If the Brahman, O king, had asked for Vessantara’s body, then would Vessantara have not saved his body, he would neither have trembled nor been stained (by the love of self), but would have given away and abandoned his own body. If, O king, any one had come up to Vessantara the king, and asked of him, saying: “Become my slave,” then would he have given away and abandoned his own self, and in so giving would he have felt no pain.
‘Now the life of king Vessantara, O king, was a good thing shared in by many—just as meats when cooked are shared in by many, or as a tree covered with fruit is shared in by many flocks of birds. And why so? Because he had said to himself: “Thus acting may I attain to Buddhahood.” As a man in need, O king, who is wandering about in his search after wealth, will have to pass along goat-tracks, and through jungles full of stakes and sticks, and doing merchandise by sea and land, will devote his actions, words, and thoughts to the attainment of wealth—just so, O king, did Vessantara, the king of givers, who was longing for the treasure of Buddhahood, for the attainment of the insight of the Omniscient Ones, by offering up to anyone who begged of him his property and his corn, his slave girls and his slaves, his riding animals and carriages, all that he possessed, his wife and children and himself, seek after the Supreme Enlightenment. Just, O king, as an official who is anxious for the seal, and for the office of the custody thereof , will exert himself to the attainment of the seal by sacrificing everything in his house—property and corn, gold and silver, everything—just so, O king, did Vessantara, the king of givers, by giving away all that he had, inside his house and out, by giving even his life for others, seek after the Supreme Enlightenment.
‘And further, O king, Vessantara, the king of givers, thought thus: “It is by giving to him precisely what he asks for, that I shall be of service to the Brahman:” and therefore did he bestow upon him his wife and children. It was not, O king, out of dislike to them that he gave them away, not because he did not care to see them more, not because he considered them an encumbrance or thought he could no longer support them, not (in annoyance) with the wish of being relieved of what was not pleasant to him—but because the jewel treasure of omniscience was dear to him, for the sake of the insight of the Omniscient Ones, did he bestow that glorious gift—immeasurable, magnificent, unsurpassed—of what was near and dear to him, greatly beloved, cherished as his own life, his own children and his wife! For it has been said, O king, by the Blessed One, the god of gods, in the cariyā Piṭaka:

“’Twas not through hatred of my children sweet,
’Twas not through hatred of my queen, Maddī,
Thraller of hearts —not that I loved them less—
But Buddhahood more, that I renounced them all.”

‘Now at that time, O king, Vessantara, when he had given away his wife and children, entered the leaf hut, and sat down there. And heavy grief fell upon him distressed by his exceeding love for them, and his very heart became hot, and hot breath, too much to find its way through the nose, came and went through his mouth, and tears rolled in drops of blood from his eyes. Such was the grief, O king, with which Vessantara gave to the Brahman his wife and children in the thought that his practice of giving should not be broken in upon. But there were two reasons, O king, why he thus gave them away. What are those two? That his practice of giving should not be interrupted was one; the other was that as a result of his so doing his children, distressed by living with him only on wild roots and fruits, should eventually be set free by their new master. For Vessantara knew, O king: “No one is capable of keeping my children as slaves. Their grandfather will ransom the children, and so they will come back to me.” These are the two reasons why he gave his children away to the Brahman.
‘And further, O king, Vessantara knew:
“This Brahman is worn out, aged, well stricken in years, weak and broken, leaning on a stick, he has drawn near the end of his days, his merit is small, he will not be capable of keeping my children as slaves.” Would a man be able, O king, by his ordinary power, to seize the moon and the sun, mighty and powerful as they are, keeping them in a basket or a box, to use them, deprived of their light, as plates?’
‘Certainly not, Sir.’
‘Neither, O king, could any one whatever keep in use, as his slaves, the children of Vessantara, who were to the world like the moon and the sun in glory.
‘And hear another reason, O king, for the same thing. That wondrous gem, O king of a sovran overlord, bright and beautiful, with its eight facets so well cut, four cubits in thickness, and in circumference as the nave of a cart-wheel, could no man, wrapping it up in a cloth and putting it into a basket, keep and use as a hone to grind his scissors upon. And neither, O king, could any one soever keep in use, as his slaves, the children of Vessantara, like to the jewels of the lord of the world in glory.
‘And hear, O king, another reason. just as the elephant king Uposatha, gentle and handsome, eight cubits in height and nine in girth and length, showing the signs of rut in three places on his body, all white, sevenfold firm, could never by any one be covered up with a saucer or a winnowing fan, could never be put into a cowpen like a calf, or made use of as one ; just so could no one whatever keep in use, as his slaves, the children of Vessantara, who were, in the world, like Uposatha the elephant king.
‘And hear, O king, another reason. Just, O king, as the mighty ocean is great in length and breadth, and deep, not to be measured, and hard to cross, impossible to fathom or to cover up, and no one could close it in and make use of it as a single ferry, just so could no one whatever keep in use, as his slaves, the children of Vessantara, as esteemed in the world as the mighty ocean.
‘And hear another reason, O king. Just as the Himālaya, the king of the mountains, five leagues high, and three thousand leagues in extent at the circumference, with its ranges of eight and forty thousand peaks, the source of five hundred rivers, the dwelling-place of multitudes of mighty—creatures, the producer of manifold perfumes, enriched with hundreds of magical drugs, is seen to rise aloft, like a cloud, in the centre (of the earth); like it, O king, could no one whatever keep in use, as his slaves, the children of Vessantara, as esteemed in the world as Himālaya, the mountain king.
‘And hear another reason, O king. Just as a mighty bonfire burning on a mountain top would be visible afar off in the darkness and the gloom of night, so was Vessantara the king well known among men, and therefore could no one whatever keep in use, as his slaves, the children of so distinguished a man—for just as at the time of the flowering of the Nāga trees in the Himālaya mountains, when the soft winds (of spring) are blowing, the perfume of the flowers is wafted for ten leagues, or for twelve , so was the sound of the fame of king Vessantara noised abroad, and the sweet perfume of his righteousness wafted along for thousands of leagues, even up to the abodes of the Akaniṭṭha, (the highest of all) gods, passing on its way the dwelling places of the gods and Asuras, of the Garudas and Gandhabbas, of the Yakshas and Rākshasas, of the Mahoragas and Kinnaras, and of Indra the monarch of the gods! Therefore is it that no one could keep his children as slaves.
‘And the young prince Jāli, O king, was instructed by his father, Vessantara, in these words: “When your grandfather, my child, shall ransom you with wealth that he gives to the Brahman, let him buy you back for a thousand ounces of gold, and when he ransoms your sister Kaṇhājinā let him buy her back for a hundred slaves and a hundred slave girls and a hundred elephants and a hundred horses and a hundred cows and a hundred buffaloes and a hundred ounces of gold. And if, my child, your grandfather should take you out of the hands of the Brahman by word of command, or by force, paying nothing, then obey not the words of your grandfather, but remain still in subjection to the Brahman.” Such was his instruction as he sent him away. And young Jāli went accordingly, and when asked by his grandfather, said:

“As worth a thousand ounces, Sir,
My father gave me to this man;
As worth a hundred elephants,
He gave the girl Kaṇhājinā.”’

‘Well has this puzzle, Nāgasena, been unravelled, well has the net of heresy been torn to pieces, well has the argument of the adversaries been overcome and your own doctrine been made evident, well has the letter (of the Scriptures) been maintained while you have thus explained its spirit! That is so, and I accept it as you say.’
Here ends the dilemma as to Vessantara’s gift of his wife and children.