Book V (Ill-Considered Action) — The Lion-Makers

In a certain town were four Brahmans who lived in friendship. Three of them had reached the far shore of all scholarship, but lacked sense. The other found scholarship distasteful; he had nothing but sense.

One day they met for consultation. “What is the use of attainments,” said they, “if one does not travel, win the favor of kings, and acquire money? Whatever we do, let us all travel.”

But when they had gone a little way, the eldest of them said: “One of us, the fourth, is a dullard, having nothing but sense. Now nobody gains the favorable attention of kings by simple sense without scholarship. Therefore we will not share our earnings with him. Let him tum back and go home.”

Then the second said: “My intelligent friend, you lack scholarship. Please go home.” But the third said: “No, no. This is no way to behave. For we have played together since we were little boys. Come along, my noble friend. You shall have a share of the money we earn.”

With this agreement they continued their journey, and in a forest they found the bones of a dead lion. Thereupon one of them said: “A good opportunity to test the ripeness of our scholarship. Here lies some kind of creature, dead. Let us bring it to life by means of the scholarship we have honestly won.”

Then the first said: “I know how to assemble the skeleton.” The second said: “I can supply skin, flesh, and blood.” The third said: “I can give it life.”

So the first assembled the skeleton, the second provided skin, flesh, and blood. But while the third was intent on giving the breath of life, the man of sense advised against it, remarking: “This is a lion. If you bring him to life, he will kill every one of us.”

“You simpleton!” said the other, “it is not I who will reduce scholarship to a nullity.” “In that case,” came the reply, “wait a moment, while I climb this convenient tree.”

When this had been done, the lion was brought to life, rose up, and killed all three. But the man of sense, after the lion had gone elsewhere, climbed down and went home.

“And that is why I say:

Scholarship is less than sense, ... and the rest of it.”

But the wheel-bearer, having heard the story, retorted: “Not at all. The reasoning is at fault. For creatures of very great sense perish if stricken by fate, while those of very meager intelligence, if protected by fate, live happily. There is a stanza:

While Hundred-Wit is on a head,

While Thousand-Wit hangs limp and dead, Your humble Single-Wit, my dear,

Is paddling in the water clear.”

“How was that?” asked the gold-finder. And the wheel-bearer told the story of

HUNDRED-WIT, THOUSAND-WIT, AND SINGLE-WIT

In a certain pond lived two fishes whose names were Hundred-Wit and Thousand-Wit. And a frog named Single-Wit made friends with them. Thus all three would for some time enjoy at the water’s edge the pleasure of conversation spiced with witticisms, then would dive into the water again.

One day at sunset they were engaged in conversation, when fishermen with nets came there, who said to one another on seeing the pond: “Look! This pond appears to contain plenty of fish, and the water seems shallow. We will return at dawn.” With this they went home.

The three friends felt this speech to be dreadful as the fall of a thunderbolt, and they took counsel together. The frog spoke first: “Hundred-Wit and Thousand-Wit, my dear friends, what should we do now: flee or stick it out?”

At this Thousand-wit laughed and said: “My good friend, do not be frightened merely because you have heard words. An actual invasion is not to be anticipated. Yet should it take place, I will save you and myself by virtue of my wit. For I know plenty of tricks in the water.” And Hundred- Wit added: “Yes, Thousand-Wit is quite right. For

Where wind is checked, and light of day, The wise man’s wit soon finds a way.

One cannot, because he has heard a few mere words, abandon his birthplace, the home of his ancestors. You must not go away. I will save you by virtue of my wit.”

“Well,” said the frog, “I have only a single wit, and that tells me to flee. My wife and I are going to some other body of water this very night.”

So spoke the frog and under cover of night he went to another body of water. At dawn the next day came the fish-catchers, who seemed the servants of Death, and inclosed the pond with nets. And all the fishes, turtles, frogs, crabs, and other water-creatures were caught in the nets and captured. Even Hundred-Wit and Thousand-Wit fell into a net and were killed, though they struggled to save their lives by fancy turns.

On the following day the fishermen gleefully started home. One of them carried Hundred-Wit, who was heavy, on his head. Another carried Thousand-Wit tied to a cord. Then the frog, safe in the throat of a cistern, said to his wife: “Look, darling, look!

While Hundred-Wit is on a head,

While Thousand-Wit hangs limp and dead, Your humble Single-Wit, my dear,

Is paddling in the water clear.”

“And that is why I say that intelligence is not the sole determinant of fate.”

Then the gold-finder said: “It may be so. Yet a friend’s advice should not be disregarded. But what happened? Spite of my dissuasion, you would not stop, such was your greed and pride in your scholarship. Yes, there is sense in the stanza:

Well sung, uncle! Why would you Not stop when I told you to? What a necklace! Yes, you wear Music medals rich and rare.”

“How was that?” asked the wheel-bearer. And the other told the story of