Jataka 376
Avāriya Jātaka
The Foolish Ferryman
as told by Eric Van Horn
originally translated by H.T. Francis and R.A. Neil, Cambridge University
originally edited by Professor Edward Byles Cowell, Cambridge University
This story has a number of themes, one of which is to only give—sage—advice to those who can hear it. Know your audience. Some people cannot hear wisdom. This can be a difficult ability to master. Our inclination is to try and convince people of our point of view. But it is very good to be able to understand people and to know what they can and cannot hear. I have a friend who staunchly denies the truth of rebirth, and I am content to continue to call him “friend” while recognizing that in this case, he cannot hear what I might be able to teach him.
“Never be angry.” The Master told this story while he was living at Jetavana. It is about a ferryman. This man, they say, was foolish and ignorant. He did not know the qualities of the Three Jewels and of all superior beings. He was hasty, rough and violent.
A certain country monk wanted to visit the Buddha. He arrived one evening at the ferry on the Aciravatī River. He said to the ferryman, “Lay brother, I wish to cross, let me hire your boat.” “Sir, it is too late. You must stay here.” “Lay brother, I cannot stay here. Please take me across.” The ferryman said angrily, “Come then, sir monk.” He took him into the boat, but he steered badly and caused the boat to take on water. As a result, the brother’s robe was wet, and it was dark before he put him on the far bank. When the monk reached the monastery, it was too late for him to see the Buddha.
On the next day, he went to see the Master. He saluted him and sat on one side. The Master greeted him. He asked when he had arrived. “Yesterday,” he replied. “Then why did you not come to see me until today?” When he heard his reason, the Master said, “Not only now, but in the past that man was rough, and he annoyed wise men of old, as he did you.” And when asked, he told them this story from the past.
Once upon a time when Brahmadatta was the King in Benares, the Bodhisatta was born into a brahmin family. When he grew up, he was educated in all the arts at Takkasilā University, and afterwards he took up the holy life. After living for a long time on wild fruits in the Himālaya Mountains, he traveled to Benares for salt and vinegar. He stayed in the royal garden, and on the next day he went into the city to beg for alms. The King saw him in the palace yard. He was impressed with his conduct, so he summoned him and gave him food. Then he made him promise to live in the garden. The King went there every day to pay his respects.
The Bodhisatta said to him, “O great King, a king should rule his kingdom with righteousness, avoiding the four evil courses (killing, stealing, sexual misconduct, and telling lies). He should be being zealous and full of patience and kindness and compassion.” In this way he encouraged the King daily, speaking these two stanzas:
Never be angry, prince of warriors; never be angry, lord of earth.
Anger never return with anger; thus a king is worship-worth.
In the village, in the forest, on the sea or on the shore,
Never be angry, prince of warriors; ’tis my counsel evermore.
So the Bodhisatta spoke these stanzas to the King every day.
The King was pleased with him. He offered him a village whose revenue was a 100,000 gold coins. But he refused. And the Bodhisatta lived in this way for 12 years.
Then he thought, “I have stayed too long. I will travel through the country and then return here.” And without telling the King, he said to the gardener, “Friend, I weary. I will journey in the country and then return. Please tell the King.”
He went away and came to a ferry on the Ganges River. There a foolish ferryman named Avāriyapitā lived. He did not understand the merits of good men or his own gain and loss (i.e., karma). When people crossed the Ganges, he first took them across and then asked for his fare. If they gave him nothing, he quarreled with them, getting a great deal of abuse and getting into fights but with little gain, so blind a fool was he.
About him, the Master in his Perfect Wisdom spoke the third stanza:
The father of Avāriya,
His boat’s on Ganges wave,
He ferries first the folk across,
And then his fare he'll crave.
And that is why he earns but strife,
A thriftless, luckless, knave!
The Bodhisatta went to this ferryman and said, “Friend, please take me to the other bank.” He said, “Priest, what will you pay me?” “Friend, I will tell you how to increase your wealth, your welfare, and your virtue.”
The ferryman thought, “He will certainly give me something.” So he took him across and then said, “Pay me the fare.” The Bodhisatta said, “Very well, friend.” And telling him first how to increase his wealth, he spoke this stanza:
Ask your fare before the crossing, never on the farther shore.
Different minds have folk you ferry, different after and before.
The ferryman thought, “This will only be his warning to me. Now he will give me something else.” But the Bodhisatta said, “Friend, you have there the way to increase wealth. Now hear the way to increase welfare and virtue.” So he spoke a stanza of caution:
In the village, in the forest, on the sea, and on the shore,
Never be angry, my good boatman; ‘tis my counsel evermore.
So having told him the way to increase welfare and virtue, he said, “There you have the way to increase welfare and the way to increase virtue.” Then that stupid one, not appreciating his admonition as anything, said, “Priest, is that what you give me as my fare?” “Yes, friend.” “I have no use for it. Give me something else.” “Except, friend, I have nothing else.” “Then why did you go on my boat?” he said. He threw the holy man down the bank, sat on his chest, and beat his face.
The Master said, “So you see that when the holy man gave this advice to the King, he got the boon of a village, and when he gave the same advice to a stupid ferryman, he got a blow in the mouth. Therefore, when one gives advice, it must be given to suitable people, not to the unsuitable.” And so in his Perfect Wisdom he then spoke a stanza:
For counsel good the King bestowed the revenue of a town.
The boatman for the same advice has knocked the giver down.
As the man was beating the holy man, his wife came with his rice. And seeing the holy man, she said, “Husband, this is a holy man of the King’s court. Do not beat him.” But the ferryman was angry, and he said, “You forbid me to strike this false priest!” He sprang up and struck her down. The plate of rice fell and broke, and the fruit of her womb miscarried. The people gathered round him, crying, “Murdering rascal!” They tied him up and brought him before the King. The King tried him and had him punished.
Figure: The foolish ferryman is punished
The Master in his Perfect Wisdom explained the matter in the last stanza:
The rice was spilled, his wife was struck, child killed before its birth,
To him, like fine gold to a beast, counsel was nothing worth.
When the Master had ended his lesson, he taught the Four Noble Truths, after which the monk attained stream-entry. Then the Master identified the birth: “At that time the ferryman was the ferryman of today, the King was Ānanda, and I was the holy man.”
