42.



On a certain occasion the Exalted One reprobated the view that there is no harm in the Pleasures of Sense. Said he:

"Suppose, monks, in the last of the hot months, the seed-pod of a creeper were to burst, and a seed of the creeper were to fall at the roots of a certain Sal-tree. And suppose, monks, the spirit resident in that Sal-tree were to become frightened, agitated, terrified. And suppose, monks, the friends and companions, the kinsfolk and blood-relatives of the spirit resident in that Sal-tree,--the spirits of the grove, the spirits of the forest, the spirits of the trees,--the spirits resident in the plants and in the grass and in the trees,--were to assemble and meet together and were to comfort that spirit as follows: 'Fear not, friend! fear not, friend! Very likely either a peacock will swallow this seed of a creeper, or a deer will eat it, or a forest-fire will burn it, or woodmen will pick it up, or white ants will carry it off, or perhaps, after all, it may have no germ of life in it.'

"But suppose, monks, neither a peacock were to swallow that seed of a creeper, nor a deer were to eat it, nor a forest-fire were to burn it, nor woodmen were to pick it up, nor white ants were to carry it off, and suppose, after all, it did have a germ of life in it. That seed, rained on by a cloud of the rainy season, would shoot up rapidly; it would become a creeper, tender, soft, hairy, drooping; it would attach itself to that Sal-tree.

"And suppose, monks, to the spirit resident in that Sal-tree were to occur the following thought: 'What future peril did those good friends and companions of mine, those kinsfolk and blood-relatives of mine,--the spirits of the grove, the spirits of the forest, the spirits of the trees,--the spirits resident in the plants and in the grass and in the trees,--what future peril did they foresee in the seed of a creeper, that they assembled and met together and comforted me as follows: "Fear not, friend! fear not, friend! Very likely either a peacock will swallow this seed of a creeper, or a deer will eat it, or a forest-fire will burn it, or woodmen will pick it up, or white ants will carry it off, or perhaps, after all, it may have no germ of life in it'? Pleasant is it to touch this creeper-vine,--tender, soft, hairy, drooping!'

"That creeper would encircle that Sal-tree; having encircled that Sal-tree, it would fork above; having forked above, it would exert pressure; having exerted pressure, it would crush every one of the mighty trunks of that Sal-tree.

"And suppose, monks, to the spirit resident in that Sal-tree were to occur the following thought: 'This very future peril did those good friends and companions of mine, those kinsfolk and blood-relatives of mine,--the spirits of the grove, the spirits of the forest, the spirits of the trees,--the spirits resident in the plants and in the grass and in the trees,--this very future peril did they foresee in the seed of a creeper, that they assembled and met together and comforted me as follows: "Fear not, friend! fear not, friend! Very likely cither a peacock will swallow this seed of a creeper, or a deer will cat it, or a forest-fire will burn it, or wood-men will pick it up, or white ants will carry it off, or perhaps, after all, it may have no germ of life in it." For indeed, because of that seed of a creeper, I am experiencing sharp, bitter sensations of pain!'

"Precisely so, monks, there are some monks and Brahmans who hold this doctrine, who hold this view: 'There is no harm in the pleasures of sense.' They fall into the slough of the pleasures of sense; they consort with nuns, with those whose hair is bound in a topknot; they speak thus: 'What future peril do those good monks and Brahmans foresee in the pleasures of sense, that they preach the renunciation of the pleasures of sense and proclaim thorough knowledge of the pleasure of sense? Pleasant is it to touch the tender, soft, downy arm of this nun!' They fall into the slough of the pleasures of sense. Having fallen into the slough of the pleasures of sense, upon dissolution of the body, after death, they are reborn in a state of loss, in a state of suffering, in a state of punishment, in hell. They there experience sharp, bitter sensations of pain. They speak thus: 'This very future peril do those good monks and Brahmans foresee in the pleasures of sense, that they preach the renunciation of the pleasures of sense and proclaim thorough knowledge of the pleasures of sense. For here we are, because of the pleasures of sense, on account of the pleasures of sense, experiencing sharp, bitter sensations of pain!'"