Closing the Kings
This page carries Ru-Yi's complete translation of fascicle 29 of the Jīng Lǜ Yì Xiàng (經律異相): "Kings on the Śrāvaka Path, Part 6" (行聲聞道下諸國王部第六) — fourteen entries closing the compendium's long section on kings. Among them: a king born without eyes or nose who governs through a divine eye instead, a second set of ten symbolic dreams interpreted as omens of a degenerate future age, Anāthapiṇḍika's daughter Sumāgadhā converting an entire foreign kingdom through a single miraculous banquet, King Udayana's consort surviving a hundred arrows through nothing more than an unbroken meditation on loving-kindness, and a clever servant who carries a bowl filled to the brim with oil past a stampeding elephant, a burning palace, and a hailstorm without spilling a single drop.
Translation Method
Fascicle 29 closes the compendium's long section on kings that began at fascicle 24, spanning wheel-turning sage kings, kings on the bodhisattva path, and now kings on the śrāvaka path across six full fascicles. Several entries here (3, 9, 11, 13) are notably brief, closer to parable than narrative; entry 4, by contrast, is a substantial and vivid account of the Anāthapiṇḍika family. Where this compendium's transliterations correspond confidently to well-documented figures elsewhere in the canon, we use those standard names.
Fascicle Contents
- 1. King Mirror-Face Wishes to Build a New Palace 鏡面王欲起新殿
- 2. King Bùlíxiānní's Ten Dreams 不梨先泥王請佛解夢
- 3. King Wicked-Youth's Circumambulation Scatters an Invading Army 惡少王遶塔散寇
- 4. Sumāgadhā and the Kingdom of Nàn 難國王因兒婦得解
- 5. King Āzhì's Faith, Born from Defeat 阿質王從佛生信
- 6. King Udayana Asks How to Govern 優填王請求治化方法
- 7. King Udayana's Consort, Undamaged by a Hundred Arrows 優填王惑於女人射其正后矢不能傷
- 8. King Tánnà's Kingdom, and the Serpent Around the City 檀那王國遭暴水蛇遶其城為二比丘所救
- 9. The Drunken Hunting King and the Pot of Boiling Water 國王酒獵聞之修福
- 10. The King Who Hid His Own Pearl in His Topknot 國王臨死藏珠髻中
- 11. The King Who Would Not Resist an Invasion 有王遇伐不拒
- 12. The King Who Tested a Single Wise Minister 國王試一智臣
- 13. The Donkey-Headed King Who Regained a Human Head 驢首王食雪山藥草得作人頭
- 14. The Sleepless King Who Killed His Own Drowsy Guards 不眠王殺睡左右
1. King Mirror-Face Wishes to Build a New Palace
A king born without eyes or nose, yet endowed with a divine eye through his own past merit, is tested by a scheming minister who disguises a monkey as a skilled architect — and answers, in verse, with a precise account of exactly why the animal is unfit for the task.
過去伽尸國王。以正法治。人民安樂無諸患難。時王無子。夫人忽然懷妊。十月生兒無有眼鼻。生得七日施設大會集諸群臣。相師道士為子立字。時彼國法。或因福相或因星宿或因父母而立字。婆羅門問言。王子身體有何異相。傍人答言。今此王子其面正平都無眼鼻。婆羅門言。應名鏡面。以四乳母供給抱養。一人摩拭洗浴。一人除棄不淨。一人懷抱。一人乳哺。此四乳母晝夜給侍。譬如蓮華日日增長。至年長大父王命終。即拜鏡面以尊王位。然此太子宿殖德本。雖生無目而有天眼。堪為國王。福德力大。國中人民聞鏡面太子為王無不奇怪。時有大臣便欲試之。不能得便。遇王出勅。勅諸群臣。更立新殿。彫文剋鏤種種彩畫。大臣試王。將一獼猴與著衣服作革囊盛之。串其肩上將到王前。巧匠已至願王指授。王知相試。便說偈言。觀此眾生類 睒睒面皺[皮*留] [跍-十+土]厥性輕躁 成事彼能壞 受分法如是 何能起宮殿 殘折華果樹 不中親近人 況能造宮殿 催送歸野林。時鏡面王。今即我也(出僧祇律第七卷)。
Long ago, the king of Kāśī governed by the true Dharma, and his people lived in peace, free of any hardship. The king, however, had no son; his consort, unexpectedly, conceived, and, after ten months, bore a child with neither eyes nor nose at all.
Seven days after the birth, a great assembly was held, gathering all the ministers, physiognomists, and sages, to give the child a name. It was the custom of that kingdom that a child be named either for an auspicious mark, for the stars, or for the parents themselves. A brahmin asked: what unusual marks does the prince's own body bear? Those present answered: the prince's own face is entirely flat, with neither eyes nor nose at all. The brahmin said: he should be named Mirror-Face.
Four wet-nurses were assigned to raise him — one to bathe and groom him, one to attend to his own hygiene, one to hold him, and one to nurse him — attending him day and night, and he grew, like a lotus flower, larger with each passing day. When he reached adulthood, his father the king passed away, and Mirror-Face was installed as the honored king in his place.
This crown prince, having cultivated deep roots of merit in past lives, though born without physical eyes, possessed a divine eye instead, and was entirely capable of ruling as king, his own merit and power great. The people of the kingdom, hearing that Prince Mirror-Face had become king, could not help but find this strange.
A certain minister then wished to test him, but could find no opportunity — until, one day, the king issued a decree, commanding his ministers to build a new palace hall, carved and engraved with every kind of ornament and painted design. The minister, seeking to test the king, took a monkey, dressed it in fine clothes, placed it in a leather satchel slung over his own shoulder, and brought it before the king, saying: a skilled craftsman has arrived — I ask the king to give him his own instructions.
The king, recognizing this as a test, spoke this verse:
"Observe this very creature's own kind — / its face flickering, wrinkled, and loose-skinned, / its own nature restless and frivolous by habit, / undoing whatever task it might complete. / Such is the very portion of nature it was given — / how could it ever raise a palace hall? / It breaks and snaps the very flowers and fruit trees it climbs, / unfit even to be trusted near ordinary people — / how much less could it ever build a palace! / Send it back at once to its own wild forest home."
That King Mirror-Face of that time was myself (Source: Sāṃghika Vinaya, fascicle 7).
The minister's own test assumes that a king born without physical eyes must be easy to deceive through appearance alone — precisely the assumption his own divine eye, granted through past merit rather than ordinary sight, exists to defeat. The king's own verse does not merely expose the disguise; it offers a genuine, detailed account of why a monkey specifically cannot be trusted with construction, treating the deception as an occasion for real judgment rather than a simple gotcha.
2. King Bùlíxiānní's Ten Dreams
A second set of ten symbolic royal dreams, closely paralleling King Prasenajit's own in fascicle 28 — but here first misread entirely by a court brahmin, who recommends human and animal sacrifice, before the king's own wife redirects him to the Buddha for a truer interpretation.
不梨先泥王。夜臥夢見十事。一者夢見三瓶併兩邊瓶滿氣出相交往來。不入中央空瓶中。二者夢見馬口食尻亦食。三者夢見小樹生華。四者夢見小樹生果。五者夢見一人索繩。人後有羊。羊主食繩。六者夢見狐於金床上金器中食。七者夢見大牛還從犢子飲乳。八者夢見四牛從四面鳴來相趣欲鬪。當合未合不知牛處。九者夢見大池水中央濁四邊清。十者夢見大谿水流正赤。王寤大恐。亡國及身。即召公臣及諸道人曉解夢者問之。有一婆羅門。皆非吉事。當取所重愛夫人太子。及邊親近侍人奴婢。皆殺以祠天王。有臥具及著身珍寶好物。皆當燒以祠天。能如是者王身得無他。王聞不樂。夫人問王。何故愁憂。王言說。昨夜夢見十事。恐亡國及身。有婆羅門。解夢皆非吉事。夫人言。王莫愁憂。今佛近在精舍。去國不遠。何以不往問夢意。如佛所解。王當隨之。王即到佛所。頭面禮佛足具以白佛。恐亡國土身及妻子。願聞教戒。佛言。莫恐。王夢者。後世人當不畏法禁。貪婬嫉妬不知厭足。少義無慈不知慚愧。第一夢者豪貴自相追隨。不顧貧賤。第二夢者見馬兩食。後世帝王及諸大臣。稟食俸祿復探萬民不知厭足。第三夢者小樹生華者。後世人年未滿三十。而頭生白髮。貪婬多欲年少強老。第四夢者小樹生果者。後世人年未滿十五。便行嫁抱兒而歸。不知慚愧。第五夢者一人索繩後人有羊。羊主食繩者。後世人夫婿出行。婦與他通食其財物。第六夢者狐於金床金器中食。後世人下賤更尊貴。有財產眾人敬畏之。公侯子孫更貧賤。處於下坐飲食在後。第七夢者大牛還從小犢。子乳者。後世人無有禮義。母為女媒誘他男子。與女交通授女求財。以自饒給不知慚愧。第八夢者四牛從四面鳴來相趨欲鬪當合未合不知牛處者。後世帝王長吏人民。皆無至誠之心。更相欺詐愚癡瞋恚。不敬天地以用是故雨澤不時。長吏人民請禱求雨。天當四面起雲雷電有聲。長吏人民咸言。當雨須臾之間雲散雨去遂為不墮。所以者何。帝王長吏人民無有忠正仁慈。第九夢者大池水中央濁四邊清者。後世中國當擾亂治行不平。人民不孝父母不敬長老。邊國面當平清。人民和睦孝從二親。第十夢者大谿水流正赤者。後世諸國當忿諍興軍聚眾更相攻伐。當作車兵步兵騎兵。共鬪相殺傷不可稱數。死者於路血流正赤。王長跪白言。得佛教戒心即歡喜。為佛作禮還歸宮中。重貴正夫人。皆奪諸大臣俸祿。不復信異道婆羅門(出國王不梨先泥十夢經)。
King Bùlíxiānní, sleeping one night, dreamed of ten things. First, he saw three jars side by side, the two outer ones full, their own steam mingling and passing back and forth, yet none of it entering the empty central jar. Second, he saw a horse eating with its own mouth while its hindquarters ate as well. Third, he saw a small tree bearing flowers. Fourth, he saw a small tree bearing fruit. Fifth, he saw a man twisting rope, with a sheep behind him whose own owner ate the rope as it was made. Sixth, he saw a fox eating from a golden vessel atop a golden bed. Seventh, he saw a great cow drinking milk in turn from its own calf. Eighth, he saw four oxen come bellowing from the four directions, converging as though to fight, yet neither joining battle nor departing, their own positions unclear. Ninth, he saw a great pool, muddied at its center yet clear at its edges. Tenth, he saw a great mountain stream flowing pure red.
The king, waking, was struck with great terror, fearing the loss of both his kingdom and his own life, and summoned his ministers and every renunciant skilled in dream interpretation to ask them. A certain brahmin declared: none of this bodes well at all — you must take your own most beloved consort and crown prince, together with your closest attendants and servants, and put them all to death as an offering to heaven; your own bedding, and every fine jeweled object you wear, must likewise be burned as an offering to heaven. Only by doing this can the king's own life be spared.
The king, hearing this, was deeply unhappy. His wife asked him: why do you grieve so? The king told her: I dreamed of ten things last night, and fear the loss of both my kingdom and my own life — a brahmin has interpreted the dreams, and says none of it bodes well at all. His wife said: do not grieve, my king — the Buddha dwells nearby, not far from this kingdom — why not go and ask him the true meaning of these dreams instead, and follow whatever he himself explains?
The king went at once to the Buddha, bowed at his feet, and told him everything, fearing the loss of his own kingdom, his own life, and his own wife and children, and asked to hear his own teaching on this. The Buddha said: do not fear. Your own dreams, great king, concern the people of a future age, who shall no longer hold the Dharma's own restraints in awe, given over to lust and jealousy without ever being satisfied, holding little regard for what is right, without compassion, and without any sense of shame.
The first dream: the wealthy and noble shall associate only with one another, giving no thought to the poor and lowly. The second dream, the horse eating at both ends: in a future age, kings and their own great ministers, already receiving their proper salary and provisions, shall still extract more from the common people, never satisfied. The third dream, the small tree bearing flowers: in a future age, people not yet thirty years old shall already have white hair growing on their heads, given to lust and excessive desire, aging in strength while still young in years. The fourth dream, the small tree bearing fruit: in a future age, girls not yet fifteen years old shall already marry and return home carrying a child, feeling no shame in it at all. The fifth dream, a man twisting rope while a sheep's own owner eats it from behind: in a future age, a husband shall go traveling, and his own wife shall carry on an affair with another man, who consumes her own family's wealth in the process. The sixth dream, a fox eating from a golden vessel atop a golden bed: in a future age, the lowly and base shall become honored instead, possessing wealth that others revere and fear, while the descendants of dukes and lords shall become poor and lowly in turn, seated below others, served food only after everyone else.
The seventh dream, a great cow drinking milk from its own calf: in a future age, people shall hold no proper conduct at all; a mother shall act as a go-between for her own daughter, luring another man to have illicit relations with her, in exchange for money to enrich herself, feeling no shame in it whatsoever. The eighth dream, four oxen bellowing from the four directions, converging as though to fight yet never actually joining battle: in a future age, kings, officials, and common people alike shall hold no true sincerity of heart at all, deceiving one another, foolish and quick to anger, showing no reverence toward heaven and earth — and it is for this very reason that the rains shall no longer fall in their proper season. Officials and people shall pray for rain, and clouds shall gather from all four directions, with thunder and lightning — and the officials and people shall all say, surely it shall rain now — yet, in but a moment, the clouds shall simply disperse, and no rain shall fall after all. And why is this so? Because the kings, officials, and people of that age hold no true loyalty, righteousness, or compassion at all.
The ninth dream, a great pool muddied at its center yet clear at its edges: in a future age, the central lands shall fall into disorder, their own governance unjust, the people unfilial toward their own parents and disrespectful toward their elders — while the people of the outlying lands shall remain calm and clear, living in harmony, filial and obedient toward their own parents. The tenth dream, a great mountain stream flowing pure red: in a future age, kingdoms shall fall into bitter strife, raising armies and gathering their own forces to attack one another, deploying chariots, infantry, and cavalry alike, fighting and wounding one another beyond all counting, the dead lying along the road, their blood flowing as though a river ran pure red.
The king, kneeling at length, said: having received the Buddha's own teaching, my heart is at once at ease — and, bowing before the Buddha, returned to his own palace. He restored honor to his own true consort, stripped the offending ministers of their own salaries, and never again placed his trust in brahmins of other, false teachings (Source: Sūtra of King Bùlíxiānní's Ten Dreams).
This entry closely parallels King Prasenajit's own ten dreams in fascicle 28's entry 4 — the same basic structure of symbolic imagery interpreted as omens of a degenerate future age — yet this telling adds a framing device the earlier account lacked: a brahmin's own initial, self-serving misreading, recommending mass sacrifice, contrasted directly against the Buddha's own correct interpretation, which requires no sacrifice at all. The wife's own quiet intervention — simply suggesting a second opinion — is what actually saves the lives the brahmin's own reading would otherwise have claimed.
3. King Wicked-Youth's Circumambulation Scatters an Invading Army
A brief entry: a violent conqueror-king, mid-battle and about to be captured, remembers his own mother's single instruction never to circle a Buddhist shrine leftward in a moment of mortal danger — and the simple act of turning his mount rightward instead is enough to rout an entire enemy force.
月支國有王。名惡少王。此天下莫不靡伏。母教勅王曰。設有臨死之難慎莫左旋佛寺。當念右旋慎莫違吾此教。時惡少王。大出兵眾攻純血城。手自執劍殺三億人。後戰不如。乘象奔走顧視佛圖。憶母教誡便迴象右旋。敵國見之因各散伏。王見賊退尋從進。得其本城擒獲王身。便憶佛語。自歸佛者為尊為上無有及者。設我不右旋者豈能壞此賊乎(出出曜經第十六卷舊雜譬喻略同)。
In the country of Yuezhi there was a king, named King Wicked-Youth, before whom the whole world bowed in submission. His mother had once instructed him: should you ever face mortal danger, take care never to circle a Buddhist shrine leftward — remember always to circle it rightward instead, and never violate this teaching of mine.
King Wicked-Youth once led a great army to attack the city of Chúnxuè, killing three hundred million people with his own sword — yet, later in the battle, finding himself outmatched, he fled on his own elephant, and, looking back, caught sight of a Buddhist shrine. Recalling his own mother's instruction, he turned his elephant to circle it rightward. The enemy forces, seeing this, scattered and submitted at once.
The king, seeing the enemy retreat, pressed forward in pursuit, retook his own former city, and captured the enemy king's own person. He then recalled the Buddha's own words: to take refuge in the Buddha is to be honored above all, with nothing that can surpass it — had I not circled rightward just then, how could I possibly have overcome this enemy? (Source: Sūtra of Illustrative Parables [Chūyào jīng], fascicle 16; substantially the same account is also found in the Old Miscellaneous Similes Sūtra).
The story never explains the mechanism by which the enemy troops "scattered and submitted" the moment the king circled rightward — no light, no voice, no visible miracle at all is described — leaving the reader to infer that the mere sight of an enemy commander pausing mid-flight to perform a religious observance was itself disorienting enough to break the pursuit. The king's own violent conquest earlier in the very same passage (three hundred million killed by his own hand) goes entirely without comment or consequence, the compendium's own interest lying solely in the single act of filial obedience that follows it.
4. Sumāgadhā and the Kingdom of Nàn
Fascicle 29's longest entry: a proud, self-isolating king, seeking a bride worthy of his own unmatched intellect, unknowingly marries his son to Anāthapiṇḍika's own devout daughter Sumāgadhā — whose quiet insistence on modesty exposes his entire kingdom's own nakedness, before a single miraculous banquet converts them all at once.
佛在舍衛國。有難國王。名分和檀。大好道德。日飯道士千餘人。王自謂。智慧無雙以鐵縛腹。常恐智慧橫出。而欲為子婚。問群臣曰。天下有智如我者不。若其有者。我欲為子取其女也。國內無有。王遣使者求索他方。到舍衛國問彼人民有佛。使者言。佛寧有女不。答曰。道人無有女也。使者言。次復有誰。答曰。阿難邠坻賢善好道有女第一。使者言。何用為第一。答曰。曾與太子祇共諍園田持以上佛。象負黃金數千萬億不貪重寶但志為善。使者即往到阿難邠坻居所。還以白王。王即馳往見。難國王身了無衣服。裸形黑醜狀類如鬼。阿難邠坻問言。欲何求也。王言。聞君賢善好道有女第一。故來為子請求君女。阿難邠坻呼前坐之云。當啟佛。具以白佛。佛言與之。阿難邠坻言。怖殺我女。佛言不也。遂即與之。女名三摩竭。當於難國度脫八萬人。阿難邠坻敢復問佛。心實懷恨。即歸謂難國王。女當相與。王即禮娉迎還其國。太子夜往到三摩竭所。三摩竭以脚蹋太子却于地。如是四五日。太子不敢復行。王夫人問之。何故不行。太子默聲。夫人即往到三摩竭所。我為子娶妻今當承事。我子何故折辱。三摩竭言。夫人大子及國中人。形皆如狗與畜生無異。夫人白王。王智慧無雙遠求子婦。無所畏難折辱我子。復面罵我。王聞之。即往到三摩竭所。三摩竭不出禮拜。王言。我遠娶新婦。面罵夫人復折辱我子可乎。三摩竭言然。王國中人民皆如狗畜。王即大驚曰。我常恐智從腹橫出故。以鐵縛之。日飯道士千餘人。誰能及我者。而反見罵。三摩竭曰。男女長少裸形相向。雖復修福猶可棄賤。王詣師門具陳上事。師曰。更往復問之。慎勿怒也。王即還問。汝國人民何用為勝。三摩竭曰。我國男女皆有衣裳。尊卑異位身不相見。有大人名曰佛。教化數千億萬人皆令得道。入火不燒入水不溺。能典攬三千日月萬二千天地。知三世事。身三十二相八十種好。道德通達諸天敬謁。王言。佛寧可見不。三摩竭言。遙請可致耳。王言。大善。請當云何。三摩竭言。但自燒香王隨我後。夫人太子皆隨我。三摩竭即上高臺請言。難國王始聞如來名。願佛明日受王飯食。佛告目連。勅諸比丘。明日悉往難國。三摩竭。令王及夫人太子齋戒燒香布席施設食具。供待千二百五十人。三摩竭。即與王夫人太子共住中庭。令諸羅漢來當先到佛在後著。慎莫驚怖隨我所為。佛諸比丘各自變化。舍利弗現作一雙白象。目連化作師子。諸大比丘各變其身。種種示現。或雁皆悉不同從上來下。難國人民大驚。三摩竭言。勿怖也。佛最在後身出水火。三摩竭前為佛作禮。王夫人太子皆亦作禮。諸阿羅漢就坐大小相次。三摩竭王夫人太子。次前行澡水下飯食具。國中人民怪王閉門。大怒各持斧欲斫宮門。佛言。我皆欲使人作善。即令宮壁化作水精。內外相見人民即止不敢復斫。時賓頭盧坐山。忽去往難國。以鍼刺地。縷與衣相連。即神足行至難國。山便隨後。國一女懷妊見山來恐墜。怖即墮身。佛令目連問賓頭盧。汝後是何等。賓頭盧顧視。山擲還前處八千里外。佛言。我教度脫汝。今失期復殺一人。人命之重我所不喜。從今已後不得隨我飯食頃。彌勒佛出乃得般泥洹。賓頭盧默然愁苦。王白佛言。寧可共捔道力。不如者當投井中。佛言大善。三問不如者當投井中。王言可。佛問言。若誦經時云何。王言。我誦經時。匍匐而行極即伏地。佛言。我誦經時坐坐極經行。若匍匐誦經是為狗行。王為不如。王欲投井兩手據地而不肯入。佛言置之。即還歸國奉行佛道。三摩竭。乃承事王夫人太子。於難國教化八萬人。皆得四聲聞果(出分惒檀王經)。
The Buddha dwelt in Śrāvastī. There was a king of the country of Nàn, named Fēnhétán, who deeply loved virtue and the path, feeding a thousand renunciants daily. The king considered himself unmatched in wisdom, and bound his own belly with an iron band, constantly fearing that his own wisdom might otherwise burst forth uncontrolled.
Wishing to arrange a marriage for his son, he asked his ministers: is there anyone in this whole world as wise as I am? Should there be such a person, I wish to take their own daughter as a bride for my son. None could be found within his own kingdom, and so the king sent envoys to seek one in other lands.
The envoys arrived in Śrāvastī, and asked the people there whether there was a buddha among them. The envoy asked: does the Buddha, perhaps, have a daughter? He was told: this renunciant has no daughter at all. The envoy asked: who, then, comes next? He was told: Anāthapiṇḍika, virtuous and devoted to the path, has a daughter foremost among all others. The envoy asked: in what way is she foremost? He was told: she once contended with the crown prince Jeta himself over a garden of land, which she then offered up to the Buddha, an elephant's own load of gold, several thousand million pieces, given without the slightest regard for such great wealth, her heart set only on doing good.
The envoy went at once to Anāthapiṇḍika's own residence, and returned to report this to the king, who hurried there himself to see for himself. The king of Nàn's own body wore no clothing at all, black-skinned and hideous, resembling a demon in form.
Anāthapiṇḍika asked him: what is it you seek? The king said: I have heard that you, sir, are virtuous and devoted to the path, and that your own daughter is foremost among all others — I have come, for this reason, to request her hand for my own son.
Anāthapiṇḍika invited him to sit, and said: I must first report this to the Buddha — and told the Buddha the whole matter in full. The Buddha said: give her to him. Anāthapiṇḍika said: this frightens me terribly, for my own daughter's sake. The Buddha said: it need not — and so he gave her in marriage.
This daughter's name was Sumāgadhā, and she was destined to deliver eighty thousand people within the kingdom of Nàn. Anāthapiṇḍika, though he had questioned the Buddha directly, still harbored deep misgivings in his own heart, yet returned and told the king of Nàn: my daughter shall be given to you. The king then performed the proper betrothal rites, and brought her back to his own kingdom.
That night, the crown prince went to Sumāgadhā's own chamber — and Sumāgadhā kicked him to the ground with her own foot. This continued for four or five days, until the prince no longer dared approach her at all.
The queen asked her son why he would not go to her; the prince said nothing. The queen then went herself to Sumāgadhā, saying: I arranged this marriage for my own son, and you are now obliged to serve him — why do you humiliate my own son so? Sumāgadhā answered: you, my lady, your own son, and the people of this entire kingdom, are all, in form, no different from dogs or mere beasts.
The queen told the king: you, of unmatched wisdom, sought a bride for our son from so great a distance, only to have her fearlessly humiliate our own son, and now insult me to my very face as well. The king, hearing this, went himself to Sumāgadhā — who did not even rise to bow before him. The king said: I married a new bride for my son from so great a distance — is it right that she should insult my own consort to her face, and humiliate my own son besides? Sumāgadhā answered: it is so — for the people of your own kingdom are all like dogs and beasts.
The king, struck with astonishment, said: I have always feared my own wisdom might burst forth uncontrolled from within my own belly, and so bound it with iron — I feed a thousand renunciants daily; who could possibly equal me? — and yet you insult me in this way. Sumāgadhā answered: your men and women, old and young alike, stand naked before one another — even should you cultivate merit in other ways, this alone makes you fit only to be despised.
The king went before his own teacher, and told him the whole matter. His teacher said: go and question her once more — but take care not to grow angry. The king returned, and asked her: by what standard, then, are the people of your own kingdom superior? Sumāgadhā answered: in my own kingdom, men and women alike wear proper clothing, the noble and the lowly occupy separate positions, and their own bodies are never exposed to one another. There is, moreover, a great being there, called the Buddha, who has taught and transformed countless millions of people, guiding them all to attain the path; he cannot be burned by fire, nor drowned by water; he governs three thousand suns and moons, and twelve thousand worlds; he knows the affairs of the three times; his own body bears the thirty-two marks and eighty minor signs; his own virtue and understanding are complete, and even the devas revere and pay him homage.
The king asked: might this Buddha, perhaps, be seen? Sumāgadhā said: he may be invited from afar, and he shall come. The king said: excellent — how, then, should this invitation be made? Sumāgadhā said: simply burn incense, my king, and follow behind me, together with your consort and the crown prince.
Sumāgadhā then ascended a high platform, and made this invitation: the king of Nàn has only just now heard the Tathāgata's own name — I beg the Buddha, tomorrow, to accept the king's own offering of food.
The Buddha told Maudgalyāyana, and commanded the monks: tomorrow, all of you shall go to the kingdom of Nàn. Sumāgadhā had the king, his consort, and the crown prince keep the fast, burn incense, lay out seating, and prepare food, sufficient for twelve hundred and fifty guests. Sumāgadhā then remained together with the king, consort, and crown prince in the central courtyard, and told them: the arhats shall arrive first, with the Buddha coming after them — take care not to be frightened, whatever happens, and simply follow my own lead.
The Buddha and his monks then each transformed themselves in turn: Śāriputra appeared as a pair of white elephants; Maudgalyāyana transformed into a lion; the other great monks each transformed their own bodies as well, manifesting in every kind of form, some as wild geese, no two alike, descending from above. The people of the kingdom of Nàn were struck with great terror. Sumāgadhā told them: do not be afraid — and, last of all, the Buddha himself arrived, his own body emitting both water and fire.
Sumāgadhā came forward and bowed before the Buddha, and the king, consort, and crown prince all bowed as well. The arhats then took their own seats in proper order, great and small; Sumāgadhā, the king, consort, and crown prince came forward in turn, bringing water for washing and serving the food.
The people of the kingdom, puzzled that the palace gates had been shut, grew furious, and, taking up axes, meant to break down the palace gate — but the Buddha caused the palace walls to turn transparent as crystal, so that those within and without could see one another clearly, and the people, seeing this, stopped, and dared not break down the gate after all.
At that time, the arhat Piṇḍola, seated upon a mountain, suddenly resolved to go to the kingdom of Nàn, and, driving a needle into the ground with a thread attached to his own robe, traveled there by his own spiritual power, the mountain itself following behind him. A pregnant woman of that kingdom, seeing the mountain approaching, was terrified it would fall upon her, and, in her fright, miscarried on the spot.
The Buddha had Maudgalyāyana ask Piṇḍola: what is that mountain doing following behind you? Piṇḍola looked back, and cast the mountain back to its own original place, eight thousand li away. The Buddha said: I taught you so that you might deliver others — yet now, through your own carelessness, you have caused a death instead. Human life is precious, and this displeases me greatly. From this day forward, you shall not accompany me at mealtimes, until Maitreya Buddha himself appears in the world — only then shall you be permitted to enter final nirvāṇa. Piṇḍola fell silent, filled with sorrow.
The king then said to the Buddha: might we test our own spiritual powers against one another? Whoever proves inferior shall be thrown into a well. The Buddha said: very well — after three such contests, whoever proves inferior shall be thrown into the well. The king agreed.
The Buddha asked: how do you recite the scriptures? The king said: when I recite the scriptures, I crawl upon my hands and knees, and, once exhausted, lie flat upon the ground. The Buddha said: when I recite the scriptures, I sit, and, once tired of sitting, walk in meditation — to recite the scriptures while crawling on all fours is nothing but the conduct of a dog. The king was judged inferior.
The king, about to be thrown into the well, gripped the ground with both his own hands, unwilling to enter. The Buddha said: let it go — and the king returned to his own kingdom, and took up the Buddha's own path faithfully.
Sumāgadhā then served the king, his consort, and the crown prince, and, within the kingdom of Nàn, taught and delivered eighty thousand people, all of whom attained one of the four śrāvaka fruits (Source: Sūtra of King Fēnhétán).
Sumāgadhā's own initial resistance to her husband — kicking him away, refusing to bow to her own mother-in-law and father-in-law-king — reads, on first encounter, as simple defiance, but the story is careful to let her own explanation reframe it entirely: her objection is not to marriage or duty as such, but to a specific, literal indecency (a kingdom where people go unclothed) that her own new family cannot even perceive as a problem, having never known anything else. Piṇḍola's own punishment for accidentally causing a death through a display of power he did not fully control is a striking moment of genuine consequence within the Saṅgha's own ranks — even an arhat's spiritual feat is judged here by its actual harm, not its impressiveness, and the Buddha's own sentence (barred from his own presence at meals until the coming of Maitreya) is unusually severe and long in duration.
5. King Āzhì's Faith, Born from Defeat
A violent king marching against the Buddha with hundreds of thousands of troops is stopped not by argument but by a single display of overwhelming, effortless power — and, once humbled, receives a teaching on governance built entirely around treating his own people's lives as more precious than any territory or army.
時有國王。名曰阿質。其所治處周十萬里。人民熾盛。王大勇猛不解於法。侵伐隣國抂苦良善。隣國皆苦之。佛與大眾往到其國。阿質聞之。與三十二子身皆勇健惡心興兵。合聚人眾數百萬人。當於大道迎欲拒佛。佛語阿難。阿質國王父子。明日惡意向我及大眾。汝等何以降之。諸大士天人笑動天地。佛問何笑。阿難曰。笑阿質王耳。佛言。阿質愚癡起是惡意。使民獲罪。已發大兵恃怙人馬之力。正使滿四天下不能動我一毛。況但數百萬人。佛告阿難。勅諸明士皆持鉢行。明日當於阿質國王軍中取飯。王父子兵馬大盛鬼神驚動。當此之時佛身在前放大光明。從軍中渡阿質國。王鼓不復鳴。弓弩不施刀兵不拔。象馬顛倒步兵轉筋。天地陰冥日月無光。王及諸子。皆迷惑失息頓伏而走。佛大眾住皆取飯滿鉢。前到王國。城門自開。佛前進王宮入殿而坐。寂寞無聲。八十一萬七千天人悉各就坐。宮更廣大自然高座交露寶帳五音自奏。王及諸子自相謂言。王者之力不如道德之力也。士眾驚怖。諸王子言。今聞佛入已在宮內。宜還與佛相見。王言。復何面目與佛相見。上慚愧神下負人民。諸子曰。佛既仁慈不傷人意。王便收斂士眾安徐還宮。與佛相見。頭面著地為佛作禮前謝。佛言卑鄙闇陋少不學問不知禮義狼獸為比。愚癡迷惑違犯天人。大聖不顧邊陲小國。今抂世尊遠來鄙土君臣勃逆。唯願天尊哀此無智。既已厚恩教化人民。王復以頭面著地叉手却住。王三十二子公卿百官吏民。皆悔過自責一心向佛。王見八十一萬眾神人皆列坐師子之座。交露帳中自然伎樂。知佛神妙。王勅後宮夫人婇女。皆出禮佛。王設百味之飯。悉與夫人三十二子。膝行澡水手自斟酌。飯悉周遍上下恭肅一心歡喜食竟。王前稽首白佛言。蒙天中天恩。宿福之厚先君之助得在黎民之上。天尊大聖。當哀我國人民乞戒終身奉行。治民正平當以何法。當與隣國為盟去惡就善。願佛留意。佛言。王侵伐非義非求。長生安社稷者也。王當恩信仁義慈孝貞潔寬柔忍辱布施育民覆蓋恕己。凡行此事。可長保社稷。若無此九社稷難保。王曰為之如何。願垂哀教。佛言。眾生可哀人命可惜。國土珍寶不足恃怙。王當愛惜人命當如父母哀其子也。人民親王過於父母。天下萬國皆可得保。非但一國也。王雖有數百萬眾車兵馬兵。適可以拒小敵耳。我為菩薩道時於樹下坐禪。魔王與鬼神兵一億八千人。皆變形作雜獸畜生身欲壞我心。我以神力右手指案地。而天地大動皆悉顛蹶。不能復本形。魔王降伏。以王數百萬人民之力。何如鬼神億數之力。王曰。實以愚癡無所知故。王即叩頭懺謝乞更改厲。佛言。我以大慈念度十方一切人民皆使解脫。早得佛道未度者度。非但為王父子。王復悔責。願佛哀我更受教戒終身奉行。使國民安隱。佛言。王當寬刑罰除賦斂廣恩信給孤獨數赦囚窮者救之貧者饒之飢者飽之。王若是者可保其終始。王發道心謂左右傍臣。取藏珍寶以上世尊。佛呪願畢。悉以施王左右皆得饒富。王三十二子自相謂言。生為無義之人。死為無義之鬼。不如兄弟求作沙門。皆言大善。即俱詣佛具陳所懷。佛知其意深入道慧。天帝釋剃其頭鬚皆成沙門。後宮夫人婇女三千人。公卿百官一切人民。皆受五戒月月六齋。國致豐熟。隣國聞之遙敬仰焉。王自從是來。治國寬仁盜賊無有。男女相敬無相貪欲普悉和善。王以七寶作大精舍。國中人民俱行十善。壽盡生天無入惡道者。佛言。我為人求道但令度脫。非天龍鬼神所能傾動也。汝曹行道。當應如我(出阿質國王經)。
There was, at that time, a king named Āzhì, whose own realm spanned a hundred thousand li, its people thriving. The king himself was bold and forceful, yet had no true understanding of the Dharma, invading neighboring kingdoms and wrongfully tormenting good, innocent people, so that the surrounding kingdoms all suffered because of him.
The Buddha, together with his own great assembly, traveled to that kingdom. Āzhì, hearing of this, together with his own thirty-two sons, all bold and vigorous, harboring malicious intent, raised an army, gathering several million people, meaning to meet the Buddha upon the main road and bar his own way.
The Buddha told Ānanda: King Āzhì and his sons intend, tomorrow, to show malice toward myself and this whole assembly — how shall we subdue them? The assembled great beings and devas laughed, a sound that shook heaven and earth. The Buddha asked why they laughed. Ānanda said: we laugh only at King Āzhì. The Buddha said: Āzhì, in his own foolishness, has given rise to this malicious intent, bringing transgression upon his own people; he has already raised a great army, relying on the strength of his own men and horses — yet, were the whole of the four continents filled with such troops, they could not so much as stir a single hair of mine, let alone a mere few million men.
The Buddha told Ānanda, and commanded the wise ones present to each take up their own bowl: tomorrow, we shall pass through King Āzhì's own army, and receive our alms there.
The king and his sons' own troops and horses, at their fullest strength, caused even spirits and ghosts to tremble. At that very moment, the Buddha's own body advanced at the front, releasing a great radiance, and passed straight through the army into King Āzhì's own kingdom. The war-drums fell silent of themselves; bows and crossbows could not be drawn, swords and blades could not be unsheathed; elephants and horses collapsed, and the infantry's own sinews went slack; heaven and earth grew dark, the sun and moon losing their light entirely.
The king and all his sons, utterly bewildered, gasping for breath, fell prostrate and fled. The Buddha and his own assembly, remaining behind, each filled their own bowls with alms, and went on ahead to the king's own capital, whose gates opened of themselves. The Buddha proceeded into the royal palace, entered the main hall, and sat there in perfect stillness and silence. Eight hundred and seventeen thousand devas all took their own seats there as well; the palace itself grew vast beyond its own former size, spontaneous high thrones and jeweled canopies with hanging pearls appeared, and music of the five tones played of itself.
The king and his sons said to one another: a king's own power is nothing compared to the power of true virtue. Their own troops were struck with terror. The princes said: we have now heard that the Buddha has entered the palace himself — we should go and meet with him. The king said: with what face could I possibly meet the Buddha now? Above, I have shamed the very devas; below, I have betrayed my own people. His sons said: since the Buddha is benevolent and compassionate, and wounds no one's own feelings, the king then gathered his own troops, and returned calmly to the palace, to meet with the Buddha, bowing his head to the ground in homage before him, and offering his own apology.
The Buddha said: how base and benighted, learning so little, understanding neither proper conduct nor righteousness, no better than a wolf or beast; foolish and confused, transgressing against both devas and humans alike — yet the great sage did not disdain even this small, outlying kingdom, and the World-Honored One has now wrongly troubled himself to travel so far to this humble land, despite its own rebellious ruler and ministers. I beg only that the heavenly honored one take pity on our own ignorance, and, having already shown such great kindness, continue to teach and transform our people.
The king again bowed his head to the ground, and, joining his palms, withdrew to one side. The king's thirty-two sons, his ministers, officials, and people, all repented and reproached themselves, turning their hearts single-mindedly toward the Buddha. The king, seeing eight hundred and ten thousand spirit-beings all seated in rows upon lion-thrones, within canopies hung with pearls, spontaneous music playing, understood the Buddha's own sublime spiritual power.
The king ordered the consorts and attendant women of his own inner palace to come out and bow before the Buddha. The king then prepared a feast of a hundred flavors, and had it served to his own consorts and thirty-two sons, kneeling himself to bring water for washing and serve the food with his own hands; the meal was shared fully among all, high and low alike, everyone reverent and joyful throughout.
Once the meal was finished, the king came forward, bowed, and said to the Buddha: through the grace of the heaven of heavens, and the strength of past merit and my own father's own help, I have come to stand above my own people. Heavenly honored one, great sage, I beg you to have compassion on the people of my own kingdom, that I might receive the precepts and follow them faithfully for the rest of my life. By what method should I govern my people justly and fairly? I wish to form alliances with neighboring kingdoms, abandoning evil and turning toward good — I beg the Buddha's own guidance in this.
The Buddha said: your own invasions were neither just nor truly sought after — they cannot bring lasting security to your own state. A king should hold to grace, good faith, benevolence, righteousness, compassion, filial devotion, chastity, purity, generosity, gentleness, patience, forbearance, and charity, nurturing his own people, sheltering and forgiving them as he would himself. One who practices all of these may long preserve their own state; lacking these nine qualities, the state can hardly be preserved at all.
The king said: how, then, should this be done? I beg your compassionate instruction. The Buddha said: all beings are worthy of compassion, and human life is precious; a kingdom's own land and treasure are not worth relying upon at all. The king should cherish human life as a parent cherishes their own child. When the people hold their own king dearer even than their own parents, every kingdom under heaven may be preserved — not merely one's own single kingdom alone.
Though the king commands several million troops, chariots, and cavalry, these can only serve to repel a minor enemy at best. When I myself, practicing the bodhisattva path, sat in meditation beneath a tree, the Māra king came with an army of one hundred and eighty million spirits, each transformed into every kind of wild beast, meaning to break my own resolve — yet I, through my own spiritual power, merely pointed my right hand toward the ground, and heaven and earth shook greatly, and every one of them collapsed, unable even to return to their own original forms; the Māra king himself was subdued. Compared to the power of spirits numbering in the hundreds of millions, what use is the mere power of a king's own several million people?
The king said: it was truly through my own foolishness and ignorance that I acted so — and bowed his head, confessing and repenting, vowing to reform himself entirely.
The Buddha said: I hold great compassion in my heart for all beings throughout the ten directions, wishing to deliver every one of them to liberation, that they might swiftly attain buddhahood, delivering those not yet delivered — this was never done for the sake of the king and his sons alone.
The king again repented, and said: I beg the Buddha's compassion, that I might receive his own teaching once more, and follow it faithfully for the rest of my life, that my own people might live in peace. The Buddha said: the king should be lenient in punishment, remove excessive taxation, extend grace and trust widely, provide for orphans and the solitary, frequently pardon prisoners, rescue the destitute, enrich the poor, and feed the hungry. Should the king do all this, he may secure his own reign from beginning to end.
The king, his own resolve for the path awakened, told his attendant ministers to bring forth his own treasury's own treasures, and offer them up to the World-Honored One. Once the Buddha had finished the dedication of blessing, all of it was given instead to the king's own attendants, who thereby became wealthy.
The king's thirty-two sons then said to one another: to live as men without true righteousness is to die, in the end, as ghosts without righteousness as well — better that we, as brothers, seek to become śramaṇas together. They all agreed this was excellent, and went together before the Buddha, and told him their own intent in full. The Buddha, knowing their own minds had deeply entered the wisdom of the path, had Śakra himself shave their heads and beards, and they all became śramaṇas.
The three thousand women of the inner palace, the ministers, officials, and all the people, likewise received the five precepts, and kept the six monthly fasts; the kingdom grew rich and prosperous, and neighboring kingdoms, hearing of this, revered it from afar. From that time on, the king governed with leniency and benevolence, and thieves and bandits vanished entirely; men and women respected one another, free of covetous desire, living together in harmony and goodness. The king built a great monastery of the seven treasures, and the people of his kingdom all practiced the ten wholesome actions, and, at the end of their own lives, were all reborn in heaven, none falling into the lower realms at all.
The Buddha said: I seek the path for the sake of all beings, only to bring about their own liberation — this cannot be shaken by any deva, dragon, or spirit at all. You, too, in practicing the path, should be exactly as I am (Source: Sūtra of King Āzhì).
The Buddha's own display of power here is deliberately non-violent in its mechanics — no one is harmed, no weapon is used against the invading army at all; the entire force is simply rendered incapable of acting, its bows undrawable, its drums silent, its own soldiers' sinews slack — a demonstration of overwhelming capability that stops just short of the very violence it is meant to discourage. The nine governing qualities the Buddha then lists, and the specific policies that follow (leniency in punishment, care for orphans, feeding the hungry), read as a fairly comprehensive practical program for just rule, one the story treats as inseparable from the king's own religious conversion rather than a separate, secular addendum to it.
6. King Udayana Asks How to Govern
The Buddha gives King Udayana two mirrored lists of ten qualities each — the ten that guarantee a king's own swift downfall in this life and rebirth in the lower realms, and the ten that guarantee a long, secure reign and rebirth in heaven — a rare instance of explicit, systematic political teaching in the compendium.
時優填王。白佛言。國王成就幾法。世尊。不久在世外敵競興。未得修行而死入惡道。佛曰十法。云何為十。一者意不專一於諸事業。二貪著揣食猶彼餓虎。三貪著酒肉不理國事。四憙懷瞋恚多諸愁憂。五常習愚癡不受人諫。六自任其力所為能辦。七常憙殺生凌易弱者。八數遣兵革侵他國界。九多有所說言無真要。十不慈於人。若成就此不久存世外敵競興。若命終後趣三惡道惡聲遠布。王言。成就幾法久存於世外敵不興。若命終後生天善處。佛言十法。久存於世外敵不興。命終後生天上善處。云何為十。一者意不錯亂於諸行業。皆悉平等除去非行親近善業。二者王不貪著揣食。以等命存分別戒品。三不貪味嗜酒。見諸咎過知出要為樂。四不慳貪喜行惠施觀諸行業。五有智慧解其義常修善。除不善。六不自恃力不自用意。諸有沙門婆羅門群臣人民聰明黠慧者。隨問其義皆為顯說便隨教導。七不暴虐殺害人民。觀其事業便加刑罰。八不數遣兵侵他國界。常與諸王共相和合。九所說真要語不煩重。察前人語然後說事。十常懷慈悲於諸臣民常察國事。成就十法久存於世外敵不興。若身壞命終生善處天上。設命終後名稱遠布天人所傳。以等法化勿以非理。時王答曰。等法化民。身壞命終生善天上。非法行者。身壞命終趣三惡道惡聲遠布(出增一阿含第三十九卷)。
King Udayana said to the Buddha: World-Honored One, in the possession of how many qualities does a king soon meet with rival enemies rising against him, and, dying before he can undertake true practice, fall into an evil realm?
The Buddha said: ten qualities. What are these ten? First, a mind not fixed single-mindedly on the affairs of state. Second, craving for food like a starving tiger. Third, indulgence in wine and meat, neglecting the affairs of the kingdom. Fourth, delight in anger, and constant brooding grief. Fifth, habitual foolishness, refusing to accept counsel. Sixth, reliance on one's own strength alone to accomplish everything. Seventh, delight in killing, and oppression of the weak. Eighth, repeatedly sending troops to invade another's own borders. Ninth, much speech without any true substance. And tenth, lacking compassion toward others. Possessing these, a king shall soon face rival enemies rising against him in this very life, and, at death, fall into the three lower realms, his own ill repute spreading far and wide.
The king asked: in the possession of how many qualities does a king long preserve his own reign, free of rival enemies, and, at death, attain a good rebirth in heaven?
The Buddha said: ten qualities as well. What are these ten? First, a mind undisturbed and unconfused regarding the affairs of state, treating all matters with equal fairness, avoiding wrongful conduct, and drawing close to wholesome action. Second, a king free of craving for food, sustaining his own life with moderation, and discerning the categories of the precepts. Third, freedom from craving for fine flavors and wine, recognizing every fault clearly, and finding true joy in liberation instead. Fourth, freedom from stinginess, delighting in giving generously, and reflecting carefully on every undertaking. Fifth, possession of wisdom to understand its own true meaning, constantly cultivating what is wholesome, and abandoning what is not. Sixth, freedom from reliance on one's own strength or opinion alone, consulting instead with whatever wise and capable śramaṇas, brahmins, ministers, and people are available, following their own counsel once its meaning is made clear. Seventh, freedom from cruelty and the killing of one's own people, weighing each matter carefully before applying any punishment. Eighth, refraining from repeatedly sending troops to invade another's own borders, remaining instead in harmony with other kings. Ninth, speech that is true and to the point, without excess, examining what others have said before speaking on any matter. And tenth, constant compassion toward all ministers and people, always attentive to the affairs of state.
Possessing these ten qualities, a king shall long preserve his own reign, free of rival enemies, and, at the end of his own life, be reborn in a good place in heaven; even after death, his own renown shall spread far and wide, spoken of among devas and humans alike. Govern your people by equal and fair law, and never through what is unjust.
The king then answered: to govern one's people by equal and fair law brings, at death, rebirth in a good heaven; to act unlawfully brings, at death, a fall into the three lower realms, one's own ill repute spreading far and wide (Source: Ekottara Āgama, fascicle 39).
The two lists are constructed as near-exact mirror images of one another, item for item — craving for food answered by moderation, reliance on one's own strength answered by consultation with the wise, cruelty answered by careful weighing before punishment — which makes this one of the compendium's most explicitly systematic pieces of political teaching, closer to a manual of governance than a narrative at all. Notably, nothing in either list concerns military strength, territorial expansion, or wealth as such; every quality named on both sides concerns either the king's own inner discipline or his direct treatment of other people.
7. King Udayana's Consort, Undamaged by a Hundred Arrows
A brief entry: King Udayana, deceived by slander into shooting a hundred arrows at his own devout, stream-entered consort, finds that her own unshaken meditation on loving-kindness toward him personally turns every arrow harmlessly aside before it can reach her.
國人送美女上優填王。王大欣悅。拜女父為太傅。為女興宮。伎樂千人以給侍之。王正后師事如來得須陀洹道。王後受譖前后。以百箭射后。后見不懼都不恚怒。一心念佛慈意向王。箭皆遶后三匝還住王前。百箭同爾。王惕然驚懼。即駕白象金車馳詣佛所。稽首佛足自陳曰。吾有重咎在三尊所。婬妖縱欲興邪。於佛聖眾生毒惡心。白衣弟子慈力乃爾。豈況如來乎。我今首過歸命三寶。唯願弘慈原赦我咎(出優田王經)。
The people of a certain land sent a beautiful woman to King Udayana, and the king, greatly delighted, honored her own father with the title of Grand Tutor, built her a palace of her own, and provided a thousand musicians and performers to attend her.
The king's own true consort, who served the Tathāgata as her teacher, had already attained the fruit of stream-entry. The king, later, was deceived by slander against this former consort, and shot a hundred arrows at her. She, seeing them come, felt no fear at all, holding no anger or resentment, her mind fixed single-mindedly on the Buddha, her own heart filled with loving-kindness even toward the king himself — and every arrow circled around her three times, before coming to rest before the king instead; all hundred arrows did just the same.
The king, struck with awe and terror, mounted his own white elephant and golden carriage, and rushed to the Buddha, bowing at his feet and confessing: I have committed grave transgression before the Three Jewels — indulging lustful and deluded desire, giving rise to wicked schemes, and harboring a poisonous, malicious heart toward the Buddha's own holy assembly. If even a lay disciple's own loving-kindness has such power as this, how much greater must the Tathāgata's own be? I now confess my own fault, and take refuge in the Three Jewels — I beg only your vast compassion to forgive my own transgression (Source: Sūtra of King Udayana).
The consort's own protection comes specifically from directing loving-kindness toward the very person trying to kill her, not from any general state of calm or detachment alone — the text is explicit that her mind was "filled with loving-kindness even toward the king himself," making her own survival a direct demonstration of mettā's own traditionally taught power to render the practitioner physically invulnerable to harm from a hostile source, a teaching found in the wider canon's own accounts of loving-kindness meditation.
8. King Tánnà's Kingdom, and the Serpent Around the City
Two ascetics use trickery rather than force to lure away a giant serpent that has trapped an entire city under threat of starvation — and refuse the king's own offer of reward, asking only that he govern with genuine devotion instead of the ritual formality that first brought the disaster upon his people.
昔陂桓提國。其王號曰檀那。國中當有暴水。水除之後。忽有大蛇繞城一匝頭荷城門。城中居民三億餘人。歷日不得出。或多飢饉者。蛇亦無所瞋恚。若有出者便當啖之。舉國人民莫不恐怖。時王國界山中有二道人清淨行道。一名摩訶調。一名沙訶調。坐思念言。蛇是含毒物。今反繞城將危人命。即時俱往。既入其國與王相見。王覩二道人言。由我正化不平故致此患。舉國愁荒無復人心。二道人即告王言。今當方便為王除之。王及臣下皆叩頭守請言。若蒙二道人恩。此國人民便為更生。沙訶調即化為大身蝦蟇。行過蛇前蛇飢難忍。便走逐蝦蟇。摩訶調復化為裘奈。從後追之。蛇見裘奈便驚走入深山。蛇去之後人民獲安。王及臣下即尋二道人到其所在。叩頭辭謝言。二道人近在於此。我實愚癡不早承奉。至有災患道人相救。唯願道人還住於宮。我等人民得展供養。道人告言。吾之為道清淨無欲。不樂供養。王當撿身自率以道。人民奉行正法可得終始獲安。王即乞受五戒十善。歸命三尊。月月齋戒以為常法。自是之後。國豐民寧四方襁負。遂致太平。沙訶調者佛身是。摩訶調者即彌勒是。王者即鳩摩迦葉是。大蛇者即調達是(出菩薩宿命經)。
Long ago, in the country of Bēihuántí, whose king was named Tánnà, a violent flood struck the kingdom; once the flood had subsided, a great serpent suddenly appeared, encircling the entire city, its own head resting upon the city gate. The more than three hundred million residents of that city could not leave for days on end, and many began to suffer starvation — for the serpent, though it bore no particular malice, would devour anyone who tried to leave. The whole kingdom's own people were struck with terror.
At that time, in the mountains within the king's own realm, there dwelt two renunciants of pure conduct, one named Móhētiáo, the other Shāhētiáo. Sitting in reflection, they said: this serpent, though venomous by nature, now encircles the city, endangering the people's own lives — and went together to the kingdom at once, meeting with the king upon their arrival.
The king, seeing the two renunciants, said: it is because my own governance has been unjust that this calamity has come upon us — the whole kingdom now suffers, and its people have lost their own peace of mind. The two renunciants told the king: we shall now find some skillful means to remove this danger for you. The king and his ministers all bowed their heads, and begged them: should we receive the two renunciants' own kindness in this, the people of this kingdom would be given new life.
Shāhētiáo then transformed himself into a great toad, and passed before the serpent; the serpent, unable to bear its own hunger any longer, pursued the toad. Móhētiáo then transformed himself into a leopard, and pursued the serpent from behind. The serpent, seeing the leopard, fled in terror into the deep mountains, and, once the serpent had gone, the people were freed from danger.
The king and his ministers sought out the two renunciants at once, and, bowing their heads in gratitude, said: these two renunciants have been nearby all this time, and yet, in our own foolishness, we failed to honor them properly until this very calamity, which they alone have saved us from — we beg that the two renunciants remain in our own palace, that we, the people, might continue to offer them proper support.
The renunciants told them: our own practice of the path is pure and free of desire — we take no delight in such support. The king himself should discipline his own conduct, and lead his people by the true path; should the people practice the true Dharma faithfully, they may secure peace from beginning to end.
The king then asked to receive the five precepts and the ten wholesome actions, taking refuge in the Three Jewels, and keeping the fast every month as his own lasting practice. From that time on, the kingdom grew prosperous and its people at peace, and people came from every direction, carrying their own children on their backs to settle there, until the whole land knew great peace.
Shāhētiáo was the Buddha himself; Móhētiáo was Maitreya; the king was Kumāra-Kāśyapa; and the great serpent was Devadatta (Source: Sūtra of the Bodhisattva's Past Lives).
The two renunciants' own solution avoids killing the serpent entirely, choosing instead a chain of trickery — a toad to bait it, a leopard to frighten it away — that resolves the crisis without violence toward even the creature responsible for it, consistent with the compendium's own repeated preference for non-lethal resolutions to threats posed by animals. Their own refusal of the king's offered reward, insisting instead that he "discipline his own conduct" as the true remedy, redirects the entire episode away from gratitude for a single rescue and toward the deeper, ongoing responsibility of just governance that the king's own opening self-accusation had already identified as the flood's true cause.
9. The Drunken Hunting King and the Pot of Boiling Water
A brief parable: a king who drinks and hunts freely, then performs a formal act of ritual worship afterward expecting equal merit, is shown through a simple demonstration with boiling water and gold that mere ritual gesture cannot undo the harm of what came before it.
昔有國王。憙飲酒射獵。還便然燈燒香投槃作禮。邊侍人言。王飲酒射獵。還都投槃當有何福。王聞之。便使人然大濩。湯便沸。內一瓶金。湯沸踊躍。便呼邊人使探取金來。人言湯熱不可近。王言汝當作方便取之。何故不得。侍人言。不知作何方便當可得之。王言。汝去下火以水添湯。侍人即如王令。便探得金。王言。我飲酒射獵時自如湯沸。我投槃作禮時自如去火以水添湯。何以故。不得福也(出雜譬喻經)。
Long ago there was a king who delighted in drinking wine and hunting; upon returning, he would light lamps, burn incense, and prostrate himself in worship. An attendant nearby remarked: my king, after drinking and hunting, returns home to prostrate himself so — what blessing could this possibly bring?
The king, hearing this, had a great cauldron of water set to boil, and, once it was boiling, had a jar of gold placed within it, the boiling water churning and leaping. He then called the attendant to reach in and retrieve the gold. The attendant said: the water is too hot to approach. The king said: you must find some skillful means to retrieve it — why can you not manage this? The attendant answered: I do not know what means could possibly achieve it. The king said: remove the fire beneath it, and add cold water to the pot.
The attendant did exactly as the king instructed, and retrieved the gold at once. The king then said: when I drink wine and hunt, it is as though the water is set boiling; when I then prostrate myself in worship afterward, it is as though I remove the fire and add cold water to a pot already boiling over — why, then, should this bring any true blessing at all? (Source: Miscellaneous Similes Sūtra).
The king's own demonstration proves something more specific than simple hypocrisy: removing the fire and adding cold water does eventually make the gold retrievable, exactly as ritual worship might eventually calm a troubled mind — but the water still had to boil first, and the harm of the original heat is never actually undone, only made bearable to reach into afterward. The king's own confession is unusually self-aware for this compendium's cast of royal figures — he diagnoses his own hypocrisy through a demonstration of his own devising, without needing the Buddha or any other teacher to point it out to him at all.
10. The King Who Hid His Own Pearl in His Topknot
A brief entry: a king's own most treasured possession, a wish-fulfilling pearl kept hidden in his topknot even in death, is discovered only after his body has been left to decompose in the open field — found by a common soldier's wife, and eventually restored to the royal line through an enormous reward.
昔者國王有如意明珠。藏於髻中。夙夜珍愛。王後薨亡。國法先置田野令肉消盡。乃收葬之。其王形壞頭髻解散明珠出露。時有征卒之妻。名遮陀利。行見珠持歸。王家收葬忘失此珠。太子傳位。方悟求覓募得神珠封邑萬戶賜金千斤。征卒之妻乃齎應命。即便封邑。王戴珠首上(出譬喻經第七卷)。
Long ago there was a king who possessed a wish-fulfilling pearl, which he kept hidden within his own topknot, treasuring it dearly, day and night. When the king later died, it was the custom of that kingdom to first leave the body in an open field until the flesh had fully decomposed, before gathering the remains for burial.
As the king's own body decayed, his topknot came loose, and the luminous pearl fell into plain view. A soldier's wife, named Zhētuólì, happened to pass by, saw the pearl, and took it home with her. The royal household, gathering the remains for burial, failed to notice the pearl was missing at all.
Once the crown prince had succeeded to the throne, he at last realized the pearl was lost, and offered a reward for its recovery: whoever found this divine pearl would receive ten thousand households as a fief, and a thousand catties of gold. The soldier's wife then came forward with the pearl in hand, in answer to this decree, and received the fief at once. The new king then wore the pearl upon his own head (Source: Sūtra of Similes, fascicle 7).
11. The King Who Would Not Resist an Invasion
A king, warned repeatedly that an enemy army has crossed his own borders and finally reached his own throne room, refuses at every stage to treat the news as urgent — revealing, only at the last possible moment, that he has already resolved to abandon his kingdom entirely for the life of a wandering ascetic rather than see his own people harmed defending it.
有隣國王。興兵伐其敵國。敵國諸臣啟其王曰。某國興兵今已逼近。願王自備共相攻擊。王語諸臣曰。此是閑事何必須吾。賊攻城門。諸臣啟王。賊今在外。王告諸臣。賊雖在外不足遠慮。但自營私何慮公務。時賊暴虐轉前入城。左右啟曰。賊已入城。王告諸臣。此事微細何足上聞。隣國大王轉進至殿。諸臣啟曰。隣國之王今已上殿。不審聖尊有何思慮。其王告曰。我今處世變易不停。興者必衰。會合有離。難可常保。更改形容如乞士法。摩何自退往適深山。思惟道德可以自娛。設此暴王欲害我身不辭其愆。所以然者。亡國失土皆由一人。我今受死萬民無患。豈不於我大有幸乎。彼敵國之王歎未曾有。舉聲唱曰。善哉大王。自古迄今未有斯比。我雖得勝未如王也。開懷大道不顧世榮。自今以往還大王國。興王訖化。共相接待共為親厚(出菩薩藏經下卷)。
There was a neighboring king who raised an army to attack a rival kingdom. That rival kingdom's own ministers reported to their king: a certain kingdom has raised an army, and is now drawing close — we ask the king to prepare his own defense, that we might resist them together. The king told his ministers: this is a trivial matter — why should it require my own attention?
The invading army then attacked the city gate. The ministers reported: the enemy is now right outside. The king told his ministers: though the enemy is outside, there is no need for such distant concern — attend to your own private affairs; why trouble yourselves over public matters?
The invaders, growing ever more violent, then broke into the city itself. His attendants reported: the enemy has already entered the city. The king told his ministers: this is still such a minor matter — why should it be brought to my attention at all?
The neighboring king then advanced all the way to the palace hall itself. The ministers reported: the neighboring king has now entered the very hall — we wonder what thoughts our own sovereign holds on this. The king then said: I now understand that all things in this world change without ceasing — whatever flourishes must, in the end, decline; whatever comes together must, in the end, part; nothing at all can be preserved forever. I shall now change my own appearance, and take up the life of a wandering mendicant instead, withdrawing on my own into the deep mountains, to find my own joy in contemplating the path and its virtue. Should this violent king wish to harm my own person, I shall not shy from whatever fault has brought this about — for the loss of a kingdom and its land is always the doing of a single person alone; should I now accept death myself, and spare my own countless people any further harm, would this not be a great good fortune for me indeed?
That rival king, hearing this, marveled at what he had never encountered before, and cried out aloud: excellent, great king — from ancient times to the present, there has been none to compare with you. Though I have won this victory, I am not your equal at all, so freely have you opened your own heart to the great path, giving no thought at all to worldly glory. From this day forward, I shall restore your own kingdom to you — and, their thrones both secure, they treated one another thereafter with close and lasting friendship (Source: Bodhisattva-Piṭaka Sūtra, latter fascicle).
The king's own repeated dismissal of increasingly urgent reports reads, at each stage, like dangerous negligence — until his own final explanation reveals it was never negligence at all, but the calm of a decision already made well before the invasion began. His own closing reasoning is worth noting carefully: he frames his own willingness to die not as noble self-sacrifice in the abstract, but as a specific transfer of risk away from his people and onto himself alone, "for the loss of a kingdom and its land is always the doing of a single person" — a king's own failure, in his own accounting, should cost that king his life, not his subjects' lives defending his throne.
12. The King Who Tested a Single Wise Minister
A candidate for royal minister is made to carry a bowl filled to the very brim with oil twenty li through a gauntlet of catastrophe — a stampeding elephant, a burning palace, a hailstorm — with instant execution as the penalty for spilling even a single drop, and passes only by refusing to let his own attention leave the bowl for even a moment.
昔有國王。選擇一國明智之人。以為輔臣。爾時國王。設權方便無量之慧。選得一人。聰明博達其志弘雅。威而不暴名德具足。王欲試之。故加重罪盛滿鉢油使擎二十里行。墮一渧者誅不須啟。群臣行之。觀者填道。譬如水定而風吹之其水波揚。心不安隱。其人心念吾今定死。設能擎鉢使油不墮到彼國者乃得活耳。唯念油鉢安行徐步。時諸臣兵父母宗親國人悉集。隨而觀之。又逢大醉象犇走入道暴鳴哮吼。譬如雷聲。蹈殺道中象馬牛羊猪犢之屬。碎諸車乘星散狼藉。人見恐怖東西馳走。如風吹雲。又人射之。而擎鉢人。初不知有象來。亦不覺象去。城中失火燒諸宮殿。又諸蛂蜂放毒齧人官兵滅火。又五色雲起天大雷震。亂風吹地塵沙瓦礫填塞王路。拔樹折枝落諸華實。掣電霹靂孔雀皆鳴天諸災雹。雖有此變其人都不覺聞。擎滿鉢油得至彼國。不墮一渧。王乃歡喜立為大臣(出修行歡喜經)。
Long ago there was a king who sought, throughout his own kingdom, the wisest and most capable person to serve as his own chief minister. Employing every skillful means at his own considerable disposal, he selected a single candidate — clever, widely learned, of broad and refined character, dignified without being harsh, his own virtue and reputation complete.
Wishing to test him, the king imposed this severe condition: a bowl was filled to the very brim with oil, and the man was made to carry it a full twenty li — should even a single drop spill, he would be executed on the spot, without any need for further explanation.
The assembled ministers set out to watch, and onlookers crowded the entire road. It was as though still water, struck by wind, rises into churning waves — the man's own heart was anything but calm. He thought to himself: I am now certainly facing death — should I manage to carry this bowl, without spilling a drop, all the way to my destination, only then shall I truly live. And so he thought of nothing else at all but the bowl of oil itself, walking slowly and steadily.
His own fellow ministers, soldiers, parents, kinsmen, and the people of the whole kingdom all gathered to watch him pass. Along the way, he encountered a great, drunken elephant, charging wildly into the road, bellowing and roaring like thunder, trampling to death the horses, cattle, sheep, pigs, and calves in its own path, smashing carriages into scattered wreckage. The people, terrified, fled in every direction, like clouds scattered before the wind, and some even shot arrows at the beast — yet the man carrying the bowl knew nothing at all of the elephant's arrival, nor did he even notice when it had gone.
A fire then broke out in the city, burning the palace halls; venomous wasps swarmed and stung people even as soldiers worked to put out the flames. Clouds of five colors gathered, and heaven thundered violently; a chaotic wind swept dust, sand, and rubble across the royal road, uprooting trees and snapping branches, scattering flowers and fruit everywhere; lightning flashed and thunder crashed, peacocks cried out, and hail fell from the sky like a calamity itself.
Though all these disturbances occurred, the man perceived none of them at all, and, carrying his bowl still filled to the brim with oil, arrived at his own destination, without having spilled a single drop. The king, delighted, installed him at once as his own chief minister (Source: Sūtra of Joyful Practice).
The catastrophes stacked against the man — a stampeding elephant, a burning palace, stinging wasps, a hailstorm — grow progressively more extreme and improbable, almost to the point of parody, yet the story's own point is precisely that their scale is irrelevant to someone whose attention has genuinely never left the bowl at all; he does not resist the temptation to look, he simply never perceives the surrounding chaos in the first place. This entry functions, within the compendium, as a vivid illustration of single-pointed concentration (samādhi) rendered as royal political test rather than formal meditation instruction, the fatal stakes making the demonstration far more visceral than an ordinary teaching on mindfulness would be.
13. The Donkey-Headed King Who Regained a Human Head
A brief entry: a king with a donkey's own head, told by the Buddha of a cure growing on a sacred mountain, fails at first because he insists on carefully selecting only the "correct" herb — and succeeds only once he abandons that discrimination and simply eats whatever grows there.
昔有國王。人身驢首。佛語國王。雪山有藥。名曰上味。王往食之可復人頭。王往雪山擇藥噉之。遂頭不改。王還白佛。何乃妄語。佛白王言。莫簡藥草自復人頭。王復到山。山中生者皆自除病。不復簡擇。噉一口草即復人頭(出雜譬喻經)。
Long ago there was a king with a human body but a donkey's own head. The Buddha told this king: on the Himalayan mountains grows an herb called "Supreme Flavor" — go there and eat it, and your own human head will be restored.
The king went to the Himalayas, carefully selecting only what he believed to be the correct herb, and ate it — yet his own head remained unchanged. He returned to the Buddha, and said: why have you spoken falsely to me? The Buddha told the king: do not discriminate among the herbs there — simply eat, and your own human head will be restored of itself.
The king went to the mountain once more; every plant that grew there could cure his own affliction — he need not have chosen carefully at all. Eating a single mouthful of whatever grass grew there, his own human head was restored at once (Source: Miscellaneous Similes Sūtra).
The king's own error is subtle: he does not doubt the Buddha's own instruction, nor refuse to act on it — he follows it earnestly, but adds a condition of his own devising, that only some specific, "correct" herb among many could possibly be the cure. The Buddha's own correction removes exactly this added discrimination, revealing that the cure was never scarce or hidden at all, only obscured by the king's own insistence on selecting carefully where no such selection was ever required.
14. The Sleepless King Who Killed His Own Drowsy Guards
Fascicle 29 closes with a permanently sleepless king who has already executed 499 guards for the crime of falling asleep on duty — until Mañjuśrī himself, in disguise, volunteers for the post and survives three attempts on his own life through nothing but clever riddles, before delivering, in a single sentence, the truth about the king's own nature.
昔有國王。晝夜不寐。其邊直者若睡便殺。前後殺四百九十九人。有一長者子當應入直。其家啼哭送之。有一年少問。何故啼哭。以實答之。卿能雇我。我能代卿。長者大喜。與金千兩遣令入直。王曰。汝何以入。曰我代長者子直。王曰。汝慎勿眠我當殺汝。時年少睡。王欲殺之。曰何以睡。曰不睡我思事耳。王曰。何所思。曰作一升器受二升物。盛一升沙復受一升水。王試實爾。復睡翻地。王復欲殺。曰思事耳。曰何所思。曰作一尺坑還持土填不滿八寸。王復使人作之審爾。復睡伏地。王復欲殺。問汝何以復睡。曰我思事耳。王赦我罪我當說之。王言便說。年少言。王正似鬼。語竟便去。王思。此人何以呼我作鬼。便啟問母。母言。汝實是鬼也。我懷汝時夜夢見鬼。與我共會便有汝耳。王便遂寤。改不殺人悔過為善。遂便學道。爾時王者我身是也。四百九十九人者今五百上首弟子是。年少覺寤我者。文殊師利是(出譬喻經第五卷)。
Long ago there was a king who never slept, day or night, and, whenever any of his own attendants standing guard fell asleep on duty, had them put to death at once — in this way, he had already killed four hundred and ninety-nine people.
There was, at this time, the son of an elder who was next assigned to stand this very guard duty; his whole household wept as they saw him off. A young man, seeing this, asked why they wept, and was told the truth of it. He said: if you can hire me, I shall take your own place. The elder, overjoyed, gave him a thousand taels of gold, and sent him to serve in his own son's place.
The king asked: why have you come? He answered: I am taking the elder's son's place on guard duty. The king said: take care never to fall asleep — I shall kill you if you do.
The young man then fell asleep. The king, about to kill him, asked: why have you slept? He answered: I was not truly asleep — I was only reflecting on a certain matter. The king asked: what matter? He answered: I was thinking of a vessel that holds one measure, yet somehow contains two measures of substance — filled with one measure of sand, and yet still able to hold one measure of water besides.
The king, testing this himself, found it indeed to be true.
The young man then fell asleep again, his head striking the ground. The king again moved to kill him. He said: I was only reflecting on a matter. The king asked: what matter? He answered: I was thinking of a pit dug one foot deep, whose own displaced earth, packed back in, fails to fill it back up to even eight inches.
The king again had someone test this, and found it indeed to be true.
The young man then fell asleep once more, lying flat upon the ground. The king again moved to kill him, asking: why have you fallen asleep yet again? He answered: I was only reflecting on a matter. Should the king pardon my own transgression, I shall explain it. The king said: speak, then.
The young man said: the king is truly just like a ghost. Having said this, he departed at once.
The king, reflecting on this, wondered: why did this man call me a ghost? — and went to ask his own mother about it. His mother told him: you are, in truth, a ghost — for, while I was carrying you, I dreamed one night of a ghost, who came and united with me, and it was from this that you were conceived.
The king, upon this, awakened at once to the truth, and, reforming himself, ceased killing altogether, repenting his own past deeds and turning to goodness, and went on to study the path himself.
That king of that time was myself; those four hundred and ninety-nine people are the five hundred foremost disciples now; and the young man who awakened me to the truth was Mañjuśrī (Source: Sūtra of Similes, fascicle 5).
Mañjuśrī's own three riddles — a vessel holding more than its own stated capacity, a pit that cannot be refilled to its own original depth — are left unexplained by the text, functioning as pure demonstrations of paradox rather than teachings with any stated solution, and their real purpose seems to be simply delaying the king long enough, through sheer curiosity, that the third and final answer can land undefended. That final answer arrives not as an accusation but as a plain diagnosis — "the king is truly just like a ghost" — and it is the king's own mother, not Mañjuśrī, who confirms this is literal truth rather than mere insult, revealing that the king's own inhuman cruelty toward his guards was never a moral failing to be corrected through argument, but a fact about his own origin he had simply never been told. This closes fascicle 29, and the compendium's long section on kings spanning fascicles 24 through 29.