The Badger's Money

It is a common saying among men, that to forget favours received is

the part of a bird or a beast: an ungrateful man will be ill spoken of

by all the world. And yet even birds and beasts will show gratitude;

so that a man who does not requite a favour is worse even than dumb

brutes. Is not this a disgrace?

Once upon a time, in a hut at a place called Namékata, in Hitachi,

there lived an old priest famous neither for learning nor wisdom, but

bent only on passing his days in prayer and meditation. He had not

even a child to wait upon him, but prepared his food with his own

hands. Night and morning he recited the prayer "Namu Amida Butsu,"[80]

intent upon that alone. Although the fame of his virtue did not reach

far, yet his neighbours respected and revered him, and often brought

him food and raiment; and when his roof or his walls fell out of

repair, they would mend them for him; so for the things of this world

he took no thought.

[Footnote 80: A Buddhist prayer, in which something approaching to the

sounds of the original Sanscrit has been preserved. The meaning of the

prayer is explained as, "Save us, eternal Buddha!" Many even of the

priests who repeat it know it only as a formula, without understanding

it.]

One very cold night, when he little thought any one was outside, he

heard a voice calling "Your reverence! your reverence!" So he rose and

went out to see who it was, and there he beheld an old badger

standing. Any ordinary man would have been greatly alarmed at the

apparition; but the priest, being such as he has been described above,

showed no sign of fear, but asked the creature its business. Upon this

the badger respectfully bent its knees, and said--

"Hitherto, sir, my lair has been in the mountains, and of snow or

frost I have taken no heed; but now I am growing old, and this severe

cold is more than I can bear. I pray you to let me enter and warm

myself at the fire of your cottage, that I may live through this

bitter night."

When the priest heard what a helpless state the beast was reduced to,

he was filled with pity, and said--

"That's a very slight matter: make haste and come in and warm

yourself."

The badger, delighted with so good a reception, went into the hut, and

squatting down by the fire began to warm itself; and the priest, with

renewed fervour, recited his prayers and struck his bell before the

image of Buddha, looking straight before him. After two hours the

badger took its leave, with profuse expressions of thanks, and went

out; and from that time forth it came every night to the hut. As the

badger would collect and bring with it dried branches and dead leaves

from the hills for firewood, the priest at last became very friendly

with it, and got used to its company; so that if ever, as the night

wore on, the badger did not arrive, he used to miss it, and wonder why

it did not come. When the winter was over, and the spring-time came at

the end of the second month, the Badger gave up its visits, and was no

more seen; but, on the return of the winter, the beast resumed its old

habit of coming to the hut. When this practice had gone on for ten

years, one day the badger said to the priest, "Through your

reverence's kindness for all these years, I have been able to pass the

winter nights in comfort. Your favours are such, that during all my

life, and even after my death, I must remember them. What can I do to

requite them? If there is anything that you wish for, pray tell me."

The priest, smiling at this speech, answered, "Being such as I am, I

have no desire and no wishes. Glad as I am to hear your kind

intentions, there is nothing that I can ask you to do for me. You need

feel no anxiety on my account. As long as I live, when the winter

comes, you shall be welcome here." The badger, on hearing this, could

not conceal its admiration of the depth of the old man's benevolence;

but having so much to be grateful for, it felt hurt at not being able

to requite it. As this subject was often renewed between them, the

priest at last, touched by the goodness of the badger's heart, said,

"Since I have shaven my head, renounced the world, and forsaken the

pleasures of this life, I have no desire to gratify, yet I own I

should like to possess three riyos in gold. Food and raiment I receive

by the favour of the villagers, so I take no heed for those things.

Were I to die to-morrow, and attain my wish of being born again into

the next world, the same kind folk have promised to meet and bury my

body. Thus, although I have no other reason to wish for money, still

if I had three riyos I would offer them up at some holy shrine, that

masses and prayers might be said for me, whereby I might enter into

salvation. Yet I would not get this money by violent or unlawful

means; I only think of what might be if I had it. So you see, since

you have expressed such kind feelings towards me, I have told you what

is on my mind." When the priest had done speaking, the badger leant

its head on one side with a puzzled and anxious look, so much so that

the old man was sorry he had expressed a wish which seemed to give the

beast trouble, and tried to retract what he had said. "Posthumous

honours, after all, are the wish of ordinary men. I, who am a priest,

ought not to entertain such thoughts, or to want money; so pray pay no

attention to what I have said;" and the badger, feigning assent to

what the priest had impressed upon it, returned to the hills as usual.

From that time forth the badger came no more to the hut. The priest

thought this very strange, but imagined either that the badger stayed

away because it did not like to come without the money, or that it had

been killed in an attempt to steal it; and he blamed himself for

having added to his sins for no purpose, repenting when it was too

late: persuaded, however, that the badger must have been killed, he

passed his time in putting up prayers upon prayers for it.

After three years had gone by, one night the old man heard a voice

near his door calling out, "Your reverence! your reverence!"

As the voice was like that of the badger, he jumped up as soon as he

heard it, and ran out to open the door; and there, sure enough, was

the badger. The priest, in great delight, cried out, "And so you are

safe and sound, after all! Why have you been so long without coming

here? I have been expecting you anxiously this long while."

So the badger came into the hut, and said, "If the money which you

required had been for unlawful purposes, I could easily have procured

as much as ever you might have wanted; but when I heard that it was to

be offered to a temple for masses for your soul, I thought that, if I

were to steal the hidden treasure of some other man, you could not

apply to a sacred purpose money which had been obtained at the expense

of his sorrow. So I went to the island of Sado,[81] and gathering the

sand and earth which had been cast away as worthless by the miners,

fused it afresh in the fire; and at this work I spent months and

days." As the badger finished speaking, the priest looked at the money

which it had produced, and sure enough he saw that it was bright and

new and clean; so he took the money, and received it respectfully,

raising it to his head.

[Footnote 81: An island on the west coast of Japan, famous for its

gold mines.]

"And so you have had all this toil and labour on account of a foolish

speech of mine? I have obtained my heart's desire, and am truly

thankful."

As he was thanking the badger with great politeness and ceremony, the

beast said, "In doing this I have but fulfilled my own wish; still I

hope that you will tell this thing to no man."

"Indeed," replied the priest, "I cannot choose but tell this story.

For if I keep this money in my poor hut, it will be stolen by thieves:

I must either give it to some one to keep for me, or else at once

offer it up at the temple. And when I do this, when people see a poor

old priest with a sum of money quite unsuited to his station, they

will think it very suspicious, and I shall have to tell the tale as it

occurred; but as I shall say that the badger that gave me the money

has ceased coming to my hut, you need not fear being waylaid, but can

come, as of old, and shelter yourself from the cold." To this the

badger nodded assent; and as long as the old priest lived, it came and

spent the winter nights with him.

From this story, it is plain that even beasts have a sense of

gratitude: in this quality dogs excel all other beasts. Is not the

story of the dog of Totoribé Yorodzu written in the Annals of Japan?

I[82] have heard that many anecdotes of this nature have been

collected and printed in a book, which I have not yet seen; but as the

facts which I have recorded relate to a badger, they appear to me to

be passing strange.

[Footnote 82: The author of the tale.]