King Bimbisāra Visits the Prince

Buddhacarita, Chapter Ten: King Bimbisāra Visits the Prince

The prince, having taken his leave of the king's teacher and the minister of the true Dharma, braved the currents of the Ganges to cross it, and passed by way of Vulture Peak on the road ahead.

Its roots hidden among five mountains, this peak rose singularly high, its crest set at the very center; groves and trees flourished with flower and fruit, and streams ran cool and warm by turns — entering this citadel of five mountains felt like ascending into the heavens themselves, so profound was its stillness.

The people of that country, seeing the prince — his countenance and virtue deep and radiant, his youthful body luminous, his form beyond comparison among men — were all struck with wonder, as though beholding the very banner of Śakra himself.

Those walking beside him stopped in their tracks; those following behind hurried to catch up; those already ahead of him all turned back to look, gazing at him without ever growing weary of the sight.

The excellent marks on every part of his body held every eye that fell on him unmoving; they came forward with reverence to greet him, joining their palms in respectful salutation.

Every one of them was filled with great joy, and made whatever offering seemed fitting; gazing up at his honored and supreme countenance, they felt, by contrast, ashamed of their own various forms of conduct.

Those ordinarily given to frivolous and restless manners grew still and solemn instead; long-held grudges dissolved away for good, and feelings of kindness and warmth rose up all at once in their place.

Men and women alike set aside every public and private duty they had, so taken were they with reverence for his form and admiration for his virtue that they forgot to go home even as they simply watched him pass.

The tuft of white hair between his brows, his long, wide, deep blue-black eyes, his whole body radiant with golden light, his hands webbed like a fine, pure net — though he now bore the outward form of one gone forth from home, he still carried every mark of a sacred and sovereign king.

The men and women of Rājagṛha, old and young alike, were all thrown into unease: if even a man such as this has gone forth from the world, what worldly joy could possibly be worth our own pursuit?

At that time King Bimbisāra, standing upon a high terrace, saw the men and women of his city thrown into such unusual agitation, and summoned a passerby to ask him in full what the reason might be.

The man knelt respectfully at the foot of the king's tower, and told him all he had seen and heard: "We have long heard tell of a son of the Śākya clan, extraordinary and supreme, whose spiritual wisdom surpasses the ordinary world, and who was destined to rule over all eight directions of the earth — and now he has gone forth from home and is here among us, and everyone has come out to greet and honor him."

Hearing this, the king's heart was struck at once with wonder, and though his body remained still, his spirit already raced ahead; he ordered the messenger to hurry back and observe closely whatever the man did, following him in secret and reporting everything he saw.

Calm and composed, his gaze steady, his measured step showing his true and dignified bearing, the prince entered the village to beg for alms, a shining example to every mendicant there; his form was gathered in, his mind undisturbed, unmoved whether he was favored or slighted.

Taking whatever he received, whether fine or coarse, he carried his bowl back to a quiet grove; and having eaten, he rinsed his mouth in a clear stream, and settled contentedly into the stillness of the White Mountain.

Green groves stood apart on a high cliffside there, crimson flowers growing among them, while peacocks and every other kind of bird wheeled and cried out in joyful confusion.

His robe of the Dharma shone all the brighter for the setting, like the sun rising over the eastern tree Fusang; and the messenger, having seen where he had settled, reported everything to the king in full, point by point.

Hearing this, the king's heart raced ahead with reverence, and he ordered his carriage prepared at once; wearing his heavenly diadem and robes adorned with flowers, he went forth with the very gait of a lion-king.

Selecting his most senior and dignified officials, men of calm and careful judgment, he set out with a great retinue numbering in the hundreds of thousands, rising toward the White Mountain like a gathering cloud.

He found the bodhisattva, dignified in bearing, every one of his senses and faculties utterly stilled, sitting upright in a mountain cave, radiant as the moon set against the blue sky.

His wondrous form, pure and dignified, seemed itself the very embodiment of the Dharma; and the king, his heart rising in reverent solemnity, approached him with slow and respectful steps.

Just as Śakra, lord of the gods, once went to visit Maheśvara, the king composed his own bearing and observed every proper courtesy, respectfully asking after his well-being.

The bodhisattva responded in kind, gracious in his own movements, answering him according to what was fitting.

When the king had finished his courteous greeting, he seated himself upon a clean stone, gazing intently at the bodhisattva's own majestic bearing, his face softening with a shared and mutual delight.

"I have long heard of your illustrious lineage, its splendid virtue handed down from one generation to the next, and my own admiration has quietly gathered over a long time — today I wish, at last, to have my doubts resolved.

The line descended from the Sun itself has flourished in glory across ten thousand ages, its excellent virtue passed down through its heirs, its greatness culminating now in this very age.

You, wise and worthy though still so young — why have you gone forth from home?

A prince who surpasses the world, destined for sacred kingship, and yet you beg for food, with no thought for your own glory; a form as fine as yours ought to be anointed with fragrant perfume — why, then, do you wear the kāṣāya robe instead?

Hands such as yours ought rightly to grasp the whole world in their hold, yet instead you accept the thinnest of meals; if you have no wish to succeed your own father the king and inherit his throne, then let me offer you half my own kingdom right now, hoping only that you might be persuaded to remain a little while.

This would spare you any awkward feeling toward your own kin, and once time has passed, you may follow whatever course you then choose — only take to heart what I sincerely offer you now, and let us become good neighbors bound by a shared devotion to virtue.

Or perhaps, relying on the renown of your own excellent lineage, your talent, your virtue, and your fine appearance all combined, you have no wish to lower your own lofty resolve, or to humble yourself by accepting another man's favor.

If so, I shall furnish you with brave and vigorous soldiers, weapons, and every provision needed for an army — and with your own strength, gathering forces widely to yourself, who in all the world would fail to acknowledge you as their sovereign?

A man of true clarity knows how to seize the right moment, so that the Dharma, wealth, and the five desires all increase together — for if one fails to obtain all three of these benefits, one's efforts, from beginning to end, amount to nothing but wasted labor.

To exalt the Dharma while abandoning wealth and sensual pleasure suits only a certain kind of person; to grow rich in wealth while abandoning the Dharma and desire serves only to preserve that wealth for its own sake.

And as for one who is destitute and has forgotten the Dharma altogether — who among such people could ever truly find joy in the five desires either?

It is for this very reason that all three — Dharma, wealth, and desire — ought to be pursued together, so that virtue flows freely and the true way is proclaimed abroad.

To have the Dharma, wealth, and the five desires all complete together — this alone deserves to be called a truly great man renowned throughout the world; do not let a body so perfectly formed as yours labor in vain, achieving nothing at all.

Even King Māndhātṛ, the wheel-turning sovereign who ruled over all four continents, when Śakra himself offered to share half his own throne with him, lacked the power to rule over heaven as well.

But you, with your own long and powerful arms, are fully capable of holding sway over the very realms of gods and men together — it is not out of any reliance on my own royal power that I now wish to press you to remain.

Seeing how you have changed your very form and appearance, cherishing instead the robe of one gone forth from home, I already hold your virtue in reverence, and pity the hardship you now endure for your own sake; and now, seeing you reduced to begging for alms, I wish only to offer you this land of mine instead.

In the vigor of youth, one takes up the five desires; in one's middle years, one takes up the practice of managing wealth; and only once one's years have advanced and one's faculties have fully matured does the proper time for following the Dharma truly arrive.

To hold fast to the Dharma and its rewards while still in the vigor of youth is certain to be undone by desire; but once one is old, one's vital energies grow faint and thin, and one naturally inclines toward seeking a quiet stillness instead — and it is the elderly, ashamed now of wealth and desire, who take up the practice of the Dharma and are honored by the whole world for it.

In the vigor of youth, the heart is restless and impulsive, given to racing after the realm of the five desires, bound tightly to one's companions by deep and passionate attachment; but by the time one reaches old age, such entanglements grow few, and it is then that one is honored as a true follower of the Dharma, every one of the five desires having fallen away, and one's delight in the Dharma growing ever stronger in their place.

Should you instead fully take up the proper way of a king, holding a great assembly in reverent offering to the gods, you would ride upon the very back of a sacred dragon, and ascend to heaven to receive its bliss there.

The great and victorious sage-kings of ages past, too, adorned their own bodies with jeweled ornaments, held great sacrificial assemblies, and in the end received the very blessings of heaven for it."

Though King Bimbisāra spoke to him in this way, offering every manner of skillful persuasion, the prince's own resolve remained as firm and unshaken as Mount Sumeru itself.