Part 6
It only remains to speak of the life of Æsop, whose biography by Planudes is almost universally regarded as fabulous. It is supposed that this writer formed the design of attributing a character and adventures to his hero which should bear some resemblance to his fables. This criticism, at first glance, appeared to me sufficiently specious, but I have since found that it has no solid basis. It is partly founded on what took place between Xantus and Æsop, and the quantities of nonsense there contrasted. To which I reply, Who is the sage to whom such things have not happened? The whole of the life even of Socrates was not serious; and what confirms me in my favourable opinion is, that the character which Planudes gives to Æsop is similar to that which Plutarch gives him in his Banquet of the Seven Wise Men--that is, the character of a keen and all-observant man. It may be objected, I know, that the Banquet of the Seven Wise Men is in itself a fiction; and I admit that it is possible to be doubtful about everything. For my own part, I cannot well see why Plutarch should have desired to deceive posterity on this subject, when he has professed to be truthful on every other, and to give to each of his personages his real character. But however this may be, I would ask, Shall I be less likely to be believed if I endorse another man's falsehoods than if I invented some of my own? I might certainly fabricate a tissue of conjectures, and entitle them the "Life of Æsop;" but whatever air of genuineness it might wear, no one could rely upon such a work, and, if he must put up with fiction, the reader would always prefer that of Planudes to mine.
[1] Before the year 1668, when the present collection of fables was first published. Fontaine had already published a few separately, and others had circulated in manuscript.
[2] Patru, a celebrated lawyer, a member of the French Academy, and one of La Fontaine's friends, who made a strange mistake in trying to divert him from a species of composition which has immortalised him.
[3] These fables had long been known when Socrates came into the world, and the Father of Philosophy only took the trouble to render them into verse during the imprisonment which preceded his death.
[4] The word Μουσιχὴ implied amongst the Greeks all the arts to which the Muses devote themselves. It comprises the employments of the mind in opposition to γυμναστιχὴ, which means the exercises of the body. La Fontaine does not give Plato's meaning quite correctly. The philosopher, at the commencement of the "Phædo," makes Socrates say that, having been several times warned in dreams by the gods to study music, he had only regarded it as an encouragement to persevere in the pursuit of truth; but that, since his imprisonment, he had given another interpretation to those warnings, and had decided that he should better obey the wishes of the gods by making verses.
[5] The following is the passage in Quintilian to which the poet alludes:--"Ego vero narrationem, at si ullam partem orationis, omni qua potest gratia et venere exorundam."-- Quint., "Hist Orat." lib. ix., cap iv.
[6] La Fontaine has not ventured altogether to repair the oversight of the ancients, for he has left the origin of fables a doubtful point between heaven and earth, when he says, in a dedication to Madame de Montespan, "The fable is a gift which comes from the immortals; if it were the gift of man, he who gave it us would indeed deserve a temple."
[7] The word fabulist was invented by La Fontaine, and has no equivalent either in the Greek or Latin languages. La Motte only ventured to use it under cover of the authority of our poet; and the French Academy, having declined to admit it into the first edition of its Dictionary, which was published after La Fontaine's death, only did so when it had been sanctioned by usage and public admiration.
[8] Hor. , " Ars Poet. ," v. 150.
TO
MONSEIGNEUR THE DAUPHIN.
I sing the heroes who call Æsop father, Whose history, although deceitful rather, Some truths and useful lessons, too, contains. Everything finds a tongue in these my strains; And what they say is wholesome: now and then My animals I use as texts for men. Illustrious branch of one the gods hold dear, And by the whole world held in love and fear, He who the proudest chiefs at once defies, And counts the days by glorious victories, Others will better tell, and higher soar, To sing your mighty ancestors of yore; But I would please thee in a humbler way, And trace in verse the sketches I essay; Yet if to please thee I do not succeed, At least the fame of trying be my meed.
FABLE I.
THE GRASSHOPPER AND THE ANT.
The Grasshopper, so blithe and gay, Sang the summer time away. Pinched and poor the spendthrift grew, When the sour north-easter blew. In her larder not a scrap, Bread to taste, nor drink to lap. To the Ant, her neighbour, she Went to moan her penury, Praying for a loan of wheat, Just to make a loaf to eat, Till the sunshine came again. "All I say is fair and plain, I will pay you every grain, Principal and interest too, Before harvest, I tell you, On my honour--every pound, Ere a single sheaf is bound." The Ant's a very prudent friend, Never much disposed to lend; Virtues great and failings small, This her failing least of all. Quoth she, "How spent you the summer?" "Night and day, to each new comer I sang gaily, by your leave; Singing, singing, morn and eve." "You sang? I see it at a glance. Well, then, now's the time to dance."
FABLE II.
THE RAVEN AND THE FOX.
Master Raven, perched upon a tree, Held in his beak a savoury piece of cheese; Its pleasant odour, borne upon the breeze, Allured Sir Reynard, with his flattery. "Ha! Master Raven, 'morrow to you, sir; How black and glossy! now, upon my word, I never--beautiful! I do aver. If but your voice becomes your coat, no bird More fit to be the Phœnix of our wood-- I hope, sir, I am understood?" The Raven, flattered by the praise, Opened his spacious beak, to show his ways Of singing: down the good cheese fell. Quick the Fox snapped it. "My dear sir, 'tis well," He said. "Know that a flatterer lives On him to whom his praise he gives; And, my dear neighbour, an' you please, This lesson's worth a slice of cheese."-- The Raven, vexed at his consenting, Flew off, too late in his repenting.
FABLE III.
THE FROG THAT WISHED TO MAKE HERSELF AS BIG AS THE OX.
A Frog, no bigger than a pullet's egg, A fat Ox feeding in a meadow spied. The envious little creature blew and swelled; In vain to reach the big bull's bulk she tried. "Sister, now look! observe me close!" she cried. "Is this enough?"--"No!" "Tell me! now then see!" "No, no!" "Well, now I'm quite as big as he?" "You're scarcely bigger than you were at first!" One more tremendous puff--she grew so large--she burst. The whole world swarms with people not more wise: The tradesman's villa with the palace vies. Ambassadors your poorest Princelings send, And every Count has pages without end.
FABLE IV.
THE TWO MULES.
Two Mules were journeying--one charged with oats, The other with a tax's golden fruit. This last betrayed that manner which denotes Excessive vanity in man or brute. Proudly self-conscious of his precious load, He paced, and loud his harness-bells resounded; When suddenly upon their lonely road, Both Mules and masters were by thieves surrounded. The money-bearer soon was put to death: "Is this the end that crowns my high career? Yon drudge," he murmured with his latest breath, "Escapes unhurt, while I must perish here!" "My friend," his fellow-traveller made reply, "Wealth cannot always at the poor man scoff. If you had been content to do as I, You'd not at present be so badly off."
FABLE V.
THE WOLF AND THE DOG.
A Wolf, who was but skin and bone, So watchful had the sheep-dogs grown, Once met a Mastiff fat and sleek, Stern only to the poor and weak. Sir Wolf would fain, no doubt, have munched This pampered cur, and on him lunched; But then the meal involved a fight, And he was craven, save at night; For such a dog could guard his throat As well as any dog of note.
So the Wolf, humbly flattering him, Praised the soft plumpness of each limb. "You're wrong, you're wrong, my noble sir, To roam in woods indeed you err," The dog replies, "you do indeed; If you but wish, with me you'll feed. Your comrades are a shabby pack, Gaunt, bony, lean in side and back, Pining for hunger, scurvy, hollow, Fighting for every scrap they swallow. Come, share my lot, and take your ease." "What must I do to earn it, please?" "Do?--why, do nothing! Beggar-men Bark at and chase; fawn now and then At friends; your master always flatter. Do this, and by this little matter Earn every sort of dainty dish-- Fowl-bones or pigeons'--what you wish-- Aye, better things; and with these messes, Fondlings, and ceaseless kind caresses." The Wolf, delighted, as he hears Is deeply moved--almost to tears; When all at once he sees a speck, A gall upon the Mastiff's neck. "What's that?"--"Oh, nothing!" "Nothing?"--"No!" "A slight rub from the chain, you know." "The chain!" replies the Wolf, aghast; "You are not free?--they tie you fast?" "Sometimes. But, law! what matters it?"-- "Matters so much, the rarest bit Seems worthless, bought at such a price." The Wolf, so saying, in a trice, Ran off, and with the best goodwill, And very likely's running still.
FABLE VI.
THE HEIFER, THE SHE-GOAT, AND THE LAMB, IN PARTNERSHIP WITH THE LION.
The Heifer, Lamb, and Nanny-goat were neighbours, With a huge Lion living close at hand, They shared the gains and losses of their labours (All this was long ago, you understand). One day a stag was taken as their sport; The Goat, who snared him, was of course enraptured, And sent for all the partners of her toil, In order to divide the treasure captured. They came. The Lion, counting on his claws, Quartered the prey, and thus addressed the trio--
"The parts are four. I take the first, because I am your monarch, and my name is Leo: Being the strongest, I annex the second; As bravest, I can claim another share, Should any touch the fourth, or say I reckoned Unjustly, I shall kill him. So beware."
FABLE VII.
THE WALLET.
Said Jupiter one day, "Let all that breathe Come and obeisance make before my throne. If at his shape or being any grieve, Let them cast fears aside. I'll hear their groan. Come, Monkey, you be first to speak. You see Of animals this goodly company; Compare their beauties with your own. Are you content?" "Why not? Good gracious me!" The monkey said, No whit afraid-- "Why not content? I have four feet like others, My portrait no one sneers at--do they, brothers? But cousin Bruins hurriedly sketched in, And no one holds his likeness worth a pin." Then came the Bear. One thought he would have found Something to grumble at. Grumble! no, not he. He praised his form and shape, but, looking round, Turned critic on the want of symmetry Of the huge shapeless Elephant, whose ears Were much too long; his tail too short, he fears. The Elephant was next. Though wise, yet sadly vexed To see good Madam Whale, to his surprise, A cumbrous mountain of such hideous size. Quick Mrs. Ant thinks the Gnat far too small, Herself colossal.--Jove dismisses all, Severe on others, with themselves content. 'Mong all the fools who that day homeward went, Our race was far the worst: our wisest souls Lynxes to others', to their own faults moles. Pardon at home they give, to others grace deny, And keep on neighbours' sins a sleepless eye. Jove made us so, As we all know, We wear our Wallets in the self-same way-- This current year, as in the bye-gone day: In pouch behind our own defects we store, The faults of others in the one before.
FABLE VIII.
THE SWALLOW AND THE LITTLE BIRDS.
A Swallow, in his travels o'er the earth, Into the law of storms had gained a peep; Could prophesy them long before their birth, And warn in time the ploughmen of the deep. Just as the month for sowing hemp came round, The Swallow called the smaller birds together. "Yon' hand," said he, "which strews along the ground That fatal grain, forbodes no friendly weather. The day will come, and very soon, perhaps, When yonder crop will help in your undoing--
When, in the shape of snares and cruel traps, Will burst the tempest which to-day is brewing. Be wise, and eat the hemp up now or never; Take my advice." But no, the little birds, Who thought themselves, no doubt, immensely clever, Laughed loudly at the Swallow's warning words. Soon after, when the hemp grew green and tall, He begged the Birds to tear it into tatters. "Prophet of ill," they answered one and all, "Cease chattering about such paltry matters." The hemp at length was ripe, and then the Swallow, Remarking that "ill weeds were never slow," Continued--"Though it's now too late to follow The good advice I gave you long ago, You still may manage to preserve your lives By giving credit to the voice of reason. Remain at home, I beg you, with your wives, And shun the perils of the coming season. You cannot cross the desert or the seas, To settle down in distant habitations; Make nests, then, in the walls, and there, at ease, Defy mankind and all its machinations." They scorned his warnings, as in Troy of old Men scorned the lessons that Cassandra taught. And shortly, as the Swallow had foretold, Great numbers of them in the traps were caught.
To instincts not our own we give no credit, And till misfortune comes, we never dread it.
FABLE IX.
THE TOWN RAT AND THE COUNTRY RAT.
A Rat from town, a country Rat Invited in the civilest way; For dinner there was just to be Ortolans and an entremet.
Upon a Turkey carpet soft The noble feast at last was spread; I leave you pretty well to guess The merry, pleasant life they led.
Gay the repast, for plenty reigned, Nothing was wanting to the fare; But hardly had it well begun Ere chance disturbed the friendly pair.
A sudden racket at the door Alarmed them, and they made retreat; The City Rat was not the last, His comrade followed fast and fleet.
The noise soon over, they returned, As rats on such occasions do; "Come," said the liberal citizen, "And let us finish our ragout."
"Not a crumb more," the rustic said; "To-morrow you shall dine with me; Don't think me jealous of your state, Or all your royal luxury;
"But then I eat so quiet at home, And nothing dangerous is near; Good-bye, my friend, I have no love For pleasure when it's mixed with fear."
FABLE X.
THE MAN AND HIS IMAGE.
FOR M. THE DUKE DE LA ROCHEFOUCAULD.
A man who had no rivals in the love He bore himself, thought that he won the bell From all the world, and hated every glass That truths less palatable tried to tell. Living contented in the error, Of lying mirrors he'd a terror. Officious Fate, determined on a cure, Raised up, where'er he turned his eyes, Those silent counsellors that ladies prize. Mirrors old and mirrors newer; Mirrors in inns and mirrors in shops; Mirrors in pockets of all the fops; Mirrors in every lady's zone. What could our poor Narcissus do? He goes and hides him all alone In woods that one can scarce get through. No more the lying mirrors come, But past his new-found savage home A pure and limpid brook runs fair.-- He looks. His ancient foe is there! His angry eyes stare at the stream, He tries to fancy it a dream. Resolves to fly the odious place, and shun The image; yet, so fair the brook, he cannot run.
My meaning is not hard to see; No one is from this failing free. The man who loved himself is just the Soul, The mirrors are the follies of all others. (Mirrors are faithful painters on the whole;) And you know well as I do, brothers, that the brook Is the wise "Maxim-book."[1]
[1] Rochefoucauld's Maxims are the most extraordinary dissections of human selfishness ever made.
FABLE XI.
THE DRAGON WITH MANY HEADS, AND THE DRAGON WITH MANY TAILS.
An Envoy of the Grand Signor (I can't say more) One day, before the Emperor's court, Vaunted, as some historians report, That his royal master had a force Outnumbering all the foot and horse The Kaiser could bring to the war. Then spoke a choleric attendant: " Our Prince has more than one dependant That keeps an army at his own expense." The Pasha (man of sense), Replied: "By rumour I'm aware What troops the great electors spare, And that reminds me, I am glad, Of an adventure I once had, Strange, and yet true. I'll tell it you.
Once through a hedge the hundred heads I saw Of a huge Hydra show. My blood, turned ice, refused to flow: And yet I felt that neither fang nor claw Could more than scare me--for no head came near. There was no room. I cast off fear. While musing on this sight, Another Dragon came to light. Only one head this time; But tails too many to count up in rhyme. The fit again came on, Worse than the one just gone. The head creeps first, then follows tail by tail; Nothing can stop their road, nor yet assail; One clears the way for all the minor powers: The first's your Emperor's host, the second ours ."
FABLE XII.
THE WOLF AND THE LAMB.
The reasoning of the strongest has such weight, None can gainsay it, or dare prate, No more than one would question Fate. A Lamb her thirst was very calmly slaking, At the pure current of a woodland rill; A grisly Wolf, by hunger urged, came making A tour in search of living things to kill. "How dare you spoil my drink?" he fiercely cried; There was grim fury in his very tone; "I'll teach you to let beasts like me alone. "Let not your Majesty feel wrath," replied The Lamb, "nor be unjust to me, from passion; I cannot, Sire, disturb in any fashion The stream which now your Royal Highness faces, I'm lower down by at least twenty paces." "You spoil it!" roared the Wolf; "and more, I know, You slandered me but half a year ago." "How could I do so, when I scarce was born?" The Lamb replied; "I was a suckling then." "Then 'twas your brother held me up to scorn." "I have no brother." "Well, 'tis all the same; At least 'twas some poor fool that bears your name. You and your dogs, both great and small, Your sheep and shepherds, one and all, Slander me, if men say but true, And I'll revenge myself on you." Thus saying, he bore off the Lamb Deep in the wood, far from its dam. And there, not waiting judge nor jury, Fell to, and ate him in his fury.
FABLE XIII.
THE ROBBERS AND THE ASS.
Two Thieves were fighting for a prize, A Donkey newly stolen; sell or not to sell-- That was the question--bloody fists, black eyes: While they fought gallantly and well, A third thief happening to pass, Rode gaily off upon the ass.
The ass is some poor province it may be; The thieves, that gracious potentate, or this, Austria, Turkey, or say Hungary; Instead of two, I vow I've set down three (The world has almost had enough of this), And often neither will the province win: For third thief stepping in, 'Mid their debate and noisy fray, With the disputed donkey rides away.
FABLE XIV.
DEATH AND THE WOODCUTTER.
A poor Woodcutter, covered with his load, Bent down with boughs and with a weary age, Groaning and stooping, made his sorrowing stage To reach his smoky cabin; on the road, Worn out with toil and pain, he seeks relief By resting for a while, to brood on grief.-- What pleasure has he had since he was born? In this round world is there one more forlorn? Sometimes no bread, and never, never rest. Creditors, soldiers, taxes, children, wife, The corvée. Such a life! The picture of a miserable man--look east or west. He calls on Death--for Death calls everywhere-- Well,--Death is there. He comes without delay, And asks the groaner if he needs his aid. "Yes," said the Woodman, "help me in my trade. Put up these faggots--then you need not stay."
Death is a cure for all, say I, But do not budge from where you are; Better to suffer than to die, Is man's old motto, near and far.
FABLE XV.
SIMONIDES RESCUED BY THE GODS.