‘Venerable Nāgasena, it was said by the Blessed One: “The Arahats have laid aside all fear and trembling.” But on the other hand when, in the city of Rājagaha, they saw Dhana-pālaka, the man-slaying elephant, bearing down upon the Blessed One, all the five hundred Arahats forsook the Conqueror and fled, one only excepted, Ānanda the Elder. Now how was it, Nāgasena? Did those Arahats run away from fear—or did they run away willing to let the Blessed One be destroyed, and thinking: “(Our conduct) will be clear (to him) from the way in which he himself will act,” or did they run away with the hope of watching the immense and unequalled mighty power which the Tathāgata would exhibit? If, Nāgasena, what the Blessed One said as to the Arahats being devoid of fear be true, then this story must be false. But if the story be true, then the statement that the Arahats have put away fear and trembling must be false. This too is a double-edged problem now put to you, and you have to solve it.’

‘The Blessed One did say, O king, that Arahats have put away all fear and trembling, and five hundred Arahats, save only Ānanda, did, as you say, run away when the elephant Dhana-pālaka bore down upon the Tathāgata that day in Rājagaha. But that was neither out of fear, nor from willingness to let the Blessed One be destroyed. For the cause by which Arahats could be made to fear or tremble has been destroyed in them, and therefore are they free from fear or trembling. Is the broad earth, O king, afraid at people digging into it, or breaking it up, or at having to bear the weight of the mighty oceans and the peaked mountain ranges?’

‘Certainly not, Sir.’

‘But why not?’

‘Because there is no cause in the broad earth which could produce fear or trembling.’

‘Just so, O king. And neither is there any such cause in Arahats. And would a mountain peak be afraid of being split up, or broken down, or made to fall, or burnt with fire?’

‘Certainly not, Sir.’

‘But why not?’

‘The cause of fear or trembling does not exist within it.’

‘And just so, O king, with Arahats. If all the creatures of various outward form in the whole universe were, together, to attack one Arahat in order to put him to fear, yet would they bring about no variation in his heart. And why? Because there is neither condition nor cause for fear (in him, whence fear could arise). Rather, O king, was it these considerations that arose in the minds of those Arahats: “To-day when the best of the best of men, the hero among conquerors, has entered into the famous city, Dhana-pālaka the elephant will rush down the street. But to a certainty the brother who is his special attendant will not forsake him who is above the god of gods. But if we should not go away, then neither will the goodness of Ānanda be made manifest, nor will the elephant actually approach the Tathāgata. Let us then withdraw. Thus will great masses of the people attain to emancipation from the bonds of evil, and the goodness of Ānanda be made manifest.” It was on the realisation of the fact that those advantages would arise from their doing so, that the Arahats withdrew to every side.’

‘Well, Nāgasena, have you solved the puzzle. That is so. The Arahats feared not, nor did they tremble. But for the advantages that they foresaw they withdrew on every side.’

Here ends the problem as to the panic of the Arahats.