Fable I.
The Miller, his Son, and their Ass.
’Tis better to pursue the dictates of one’s own reason, than attempt to please all mankind.
A Miller and his Son were driving their Ass to market, in order to sell him: and that he might get thither fresh and in good condition, they drove him on gently before them. They had not proceeded far, when they met a company of travellers. Sure, say they, you are mighty careful of your Ass: methinks, one of you might as well get up and ride, as suffer him to walk on at his ease, while you trudge after on foot. In compliance with this advice, the Old Man set his Son upon the beast. And now, they had scarce advanced a quarter of a mile farther, before they met another company. You idle young rogue, said one of the party, why don’t you get down and let your poor Father ride? Upon this, the Old Man made his Son dismount, and got up himself. While they were marching in this manner, a third company began to insult the Father. You hard-hearted unnatural wretch, say they, how can you suffer that poor lad to wade through the dirt, while you, like an alderman, ride at your ease? The good-natured Miller stood corrected, and immediately took his Son up behind him. And now the next man they met exclaimed, with more vehemence and indignation than all the rest—Was there ever such a couple of lazy boobies! to overload in so unconscionable a manner a poor dumb creature, who is far less able to carry them than they are to carry him! The complying Old Man would have been half inclined to make the trial, had not experience by this time sufficiently convinced him, that there cannot be a more fruitless attempt than to endeavour to please all mankind.
We should bear with patience a small evil, when it is connected with a greater good.
A Fox closely pursued by a pack of dogs took shelter under the covert of a Bramble. He rejoiced in this asylum, and for a while was very happy: but soon found, that if he attempted to stir, he was wounded by thorns and prickles on every side. However, making a virtue of necessity, he forbore to complain; and comforted himself with reflecting, that no bliss is perfect; that good and evil are mixed, and flow from the same fountain. These briars indeed, said he, will tear my skin a little, yet they keep off the dogs. For the sake of the good, then, let me bear the evil with patience: each bitter has its sweet, and these brambles, though they wound my flesh, preserve my life from danger.
Fable III.
The Butterfly and the Rose.
We exclaim loudly against that inconstancy in another to which we give occasion by our own.
A fine powdered Butterfly fell in love with a beautiful Rose, who expanded her charms in a neighbouring parterre. Matters were soon adjusted between them, and they mutually vowed eternal fidelity. The Butterfly, perfectly satisfied with the success of his amour, took a tender leave of his mistress, and did not return again till noon. What! said the Rose, when she saw him approaching, is the ardent passion you vowed so soon extinguished? It is an age since you paid me a visit. But no wonder: for I observed you courting by turns every flower in the garden. You little coquet, replied the Butterfly, it well becomes you, truly, to reproach me with my gallantries; when in fact I only copy the example which you yourself have set me. For, not to mention the satisfaction with which you admitted the kisses of the fragrant Zephyr, did I not see you displaying your charms to the bee, the fly, the wasp, and, in short, encouraging and receiving the addresses of every buzzing insect that fluttered within your view? If you will be a coquet, you must expect to find me inconstant.
Fable IV.
The Clock and the Dial.
There is no absolute independency in the world; every one depends in his station upon some above him, and that if this order was taken away, there would be nothing except error and confusion in the universe.
A Clock, which served for many years to repeat the hours and point out time, happened to fall into conversation with a Dial, which also served, when the sun shone, to tell what was the time of day. It happened to be in a cloudy forenoon, when the sun did not shine. Says the Clock to the Dial, What a mean slavery do you undergo! you cannot tell the hour without the sun pleases to inform you; and now the half of the day is past, and you know not what o’clock it is. I can tell the hour at any time, and would not be in such a dependent state as you are in for the world. Night and day are both alike to me. It is just now twelve o’clock. Upon this the sun shone forth from under the cloud, and showed the exact time of the day. It was half an hour past twelve. The Dial then replied to the Clock, You may now perceive that boasting is not good; for you see you are wrong. It is better to be under direction and follow truth, than to be eye to one’s self and go wrong; your freedom is only a liberty to err; and what you call slavery in my case, is the only method of being freely in the right. You see that we should all of us keep our stations, and depend upon one another. I depend upon the sun, and you depend upon me; for if I did not serve to regulate your motions, you see you would for ever go wrong.
Fable V.
The Tortoise and the Two Crows.
Curiosity often excites those people to hazardous undertakings, whom vanity and indiscretion render totally unfit for them.
Vanity and idle curiosity are qualities which generally prove destructive to those who suffer themselves to be governed by them.
A Tortoise, weary of passing her days in the same obscure corner, conceived a wonderful inclination to visit foreign countries. Two Crows, whom the simple Tortoise acquainted with her intention, undertook to oblige her upon the occasion. Accordingly, they told her, that if she would fasten her mouth to the middle of a pole, they would take the two ends, and transport her whithersoever she chose to be conveyed. The Tortoise approved of the expedient; and everything being prepared, the Crows began their flight with her. They had not travelled long in the air, when they were met by a Magpie, who inquiring what they were bearing along, they replied the queen of the Tortoises. The Tortoise, vain of the new and unmerited appellation, was going to confirm the title, when, opening her mouth for that purpose, she let go her hold, and was dashed to pieces by her fall.
Fable VI.
The Country Maid and the Milk-Pail.
When we dwell much on distant and chimerical advantages, we neglect our present business, and are exposed to real misfortunes.
When men suffer their imagination to amuse them with the prospect of distant and uncertain improvements of their condition, they frequently sustain real losses by their inattention to those affairs in which they are immediately concerned.
A Country Maid was walking very deliberately with a pail of milk upon her head, when she fell into the following train of reflections:—The money for which I shall sell this milk, will enable me to increase my stock of eggs to three hundred. These eggs, allowing for what may prove addle, and what may be destroyed by vermin, will produce at least two hundred and fifty chickens. The chickens will be fit to carry to market about Christmas, when poultry always bear a good price, so that by May-day I cannot fail of having money enough to purchase a gown. Green!—let me consider—yes, green becomes my complexion best, and green it shall be. In this dress I will go to the fair, where all the young fellows will strive to have me for a partner; but I shall perhaps refuse every one of them, and with an air of disdain toss from them. Transported with this triumphant thought, she could not forbear acting with her head what thus passed in her imagination, when down came the pail of milk, and with it all her imaginary happiness.
Fable VII.
The Spider and the Silkworm.
He that is employed in works of use generally advantages himself or others; while he who toils alone for fame must often expect to lose his labour.
How vainly we promise ourselves that our flimsy productions will be rewarded with immortal honour! A Spider, busied in spreading his web from one side of a room to the other, was asked by an industrious Silkworm, to what end he spent so much time and labour, in making such a number of lines and circles? The Spider angrily replied, Do not disturb me, thou ignorant thing: I transmit my ingenuity to posterity, and fame is the object of my wishes. Just as he had spoken, a chambermaid, coming into the room to feed her Silkworms, saw the Spider at his work, and with one stroke of her broom, swept him away, and destroyed at once his labours and his hope of fame.
Fable VIII.
The Bee and the Fly.
The greatest genius with a vindictive temper is far surpast in point of happiness by men of talents less considerable.
A Bee, observing a Fly frisking about her hive, asked him, in a very passionate tone, what he did there? Is it for such scoundrels as you, said she, to intrude into the company of the queens of the air? You have great reason, truly, replied the Fly, to be out of humour. I am sure they must be mad who would have any concern with so quarrelsome a nation. And why so? thou saucy malapert, returned the enraged Bee; we have the best laws, and are governed by the best policy in the world. We feed upon the most fragrant flowers, and all our business is to make honey: honey which equals nectar, thou tasteless wretch, who livest upon nothing but putrefaction and excrement. We live as we can, rejoined the Fly. Poverty, I hope, is no crime; but passion is one, I am sure. The honey you make is sweet, I grant you; but your heart is all bitterness: for to be revenged on an enemy, you will destroy your own life; and are so inconsiderate in your rage, as to do more mischief to yourselves than to your adversary. Take my word for it, one had better have less considerable talents, and use them with more discretion.
Fable IX.
The Huron and the Frenchman.
Custom has a mighty effect upon mankind, and more differences arise in character from custom than from natural causes. Perhaps all men are in the state they should be in; they should therefore live contented.
An airy Frenchman happened to meet a Huron upon the Mississippi, as he went with his bow and shafts to seek provision for his family. Says Monsieur to the savage, You have a very toilsome life of it, who, when other people sit by the fireside, enjoying the benefit of good food and good company, are obliged to traverse the woods in the midst of snow and storms to preserve a wretched existence. How come you by your food? replies the Huron. Does it rain from the clouds to you? No, says the Frenchman; we work in summer, and make provision for winter, and, during the cold months, sit by the fire and enjoy ourselves. For the same reason, says the Huron, do we lay up provisions in winter, that we may rest in summer when the days are hot. Your enjoyments are confined within the walls of a house, and by the side of a fire, but ours are more extensive; we assemble upon the mountains and in the woods in summer for pleasure, and our delights are to observe the works of nature; the sun serves us instead of fire to warm us, and we are never at a loss for houses while the woods remain. This is the season when we lay up our store, and it serves us in summer till winter return. We are accustomed to endure the cold, and our exercise keeps us from feeling it to excess. At night the skins of wild beasts keep us from the cold till the morning dawn, and then we pursue the same employments. Were we not to live in this manner, the wild beasts would so increase, that they would become our masters; but our necessity of having food and clothing prevents them from increasing to very great numbers. What you account pleasure, would be none to us; and your manner of life appears as ridiculous to the Hurons, as ours appears to you. You reckon us idolaters, because we pay adoration to the rising sun; but you misunderstand us; we consider that light to be a symbol of the great Author of Nature, and only worship him through this luminary. We do not understand your manner of worship, which to us appears abundantly absurd; for the Deity is no more like images of gold and silver, than he is like the sun. The sun is a more glorious effect of his power and goodness; for he serves many excellent purposes, and we could not live without him; but your symbols appear to have no use. The Frenchman could make no reply, and the Huron proceeded on his hunting.
Fable X.
Genius, Virtue, and Reputation.
There are few things so irreparably lost as Reputation.
Genius, Virtue, and Reputation, three intimate friends, agreed to travel over the island of Great Britain, to see whatever might be worthy of observation. But as some misfortune, said they, may happen to separate us, let us consider before we set out by what means we may find each other again. Should it be my ill fate, said Genius, to be severed from you, my associates—which Heaven forbid!—you may find me kneeling in devotion before the tomb of Shakespear, or rapt in some grove where Milton talked with angels, or musing in the grotto where Pope caught inspiration. Virtue, with a sigh, acknowledged that her friends were not very numerous: but were I to lose you, she cried, with whom I am at present so happily united, I should choose to take sanctuary in the temples of religion, in the places of royalty, or in the stately domes of ministers of state; but as it may be my ill-fortune to be there denied admittance, inquire for some cottage where contentment has a bower, and there you will certainly find me. Ah! my dear companions, said Reputation, very earnestly, you, I perceive, when missing, may possibly be recovered; but take care, I entreat you, always to keep sight of me, for if I am once lost, I am never to be retrieved.
Fable XI.
Industry and Sloth.
Our term of life does not allow time for long protracted deliberations.
How many live in the world as useless as if they had never been born! They pass through life like a bird through the air, and leave no track behind them; waste the prime of their days in deliberating what they shall do, and bring them to a period without coming to any determination.
An indolent young man, being asked why he lay in bed so long, jocosely and carelessly answered, Every morning of my life I am hearing causes. I have two fine girls, their names are Industry and Sloth, close at my bed-side as soon as ever I awake, pressing their different suits. One intreats me to get up, the other persuades me to lie still; and then they alternately give me various reasons why I should rise, and why I should not. This detains me so long, as it is the duty of an impartial judge to hear all that can be said on either side, that before the pleadings are over, it is time to go to dinner.
Fable XII.
The Hermit and the Bear.
The random zeal of inconsiderate friends is often as hurtful as the wrath of enemies.
An imprudent friend often does as much mischief by his too great zeal as the worst enemy could effect by his malice.
A certain Hermit having done a good office to a Bear, the grateful creature was so sensible of his obligation, that he begged to be admitted as the guardian and companion of his solitude. The Hermit willingly accepted his offer, and conducted him to his cell, where they passed their time together in an amicable manner. One very hot day, the Hermit having laid him down to sleep, the officious Bear employed himself in driving away the flies from his patron’s face. But in spite of all his care, one of the flies perpetually returned to the attack, and at last settled upon the Hermit’s nose. Now I shall have you most certainly, said the Bear; and with the best intentions imaginable, gave him a violent blow on the face, which very effectually indeed demolished the Fly, but at the same time most terribly bruised the face of his benefactor.
Fable XIII.
The Passenger and the Pilot.
We are nowhere out of the reach of Providence, either to punish or to protect us.
It had blown a violent storm at sea, and the whole crew of a large vessel were in imminent danger of shipwreck. After the rolling of the waves were somewhat abated, a certain Passenger, who had never been at sea before, observing the Pilot to have appeared wholly unconcerned, even in their greatest danger, had the curiosity to ask him what death his father died. What death? said the Pilot; why he perished at Sea, as my grandfather did before him. And are you not afraid of trusting yourself to an element that has thus proved fatal to your family? Afraid!—by no means. Why we must all die: is not your father dead? Yes, but he died in his bed. And why then are you not afraid of trusting yourself to your bed? Because I am there perfectly secure. It may be so, replied the Pilot; but if the hand of Providence is equally extended over all places, there is no more reason for me to be afraid of going to sea than for you to be afraid of going to bed.
Fable XIV.
The Partial Judge.
The injuries we do, and those we suffer, are seldom weighed in the same scales.
A Farmer came to a neighbouring Lawyer expressing great concern for an accident which he said had just happened. One of your oxen, continued he, has been gored by an unlucky bull of mine, and I shall be glad to know how I am to make you a reparation. Thou art a very honest fellow, replied the Lawyer, and wilt not think it unreasonable that I expect one of thy oxen in return. It is no more than justice, quoth the Farmer, to be sure; but what did I say?—I mistake: it is your bull that has killed one of my oxen. Indeed! says the Lawyer; that alters the case: I must inquire into the affair; and if—— And if! said the Farmer; the business I find would have been concluded without an if, had you been as ready to do justice to others as to exact it from them.
Fable XV.
The Lion and the Gnat.
Little minds are so much elevated by any advantage gained over their superiors, that they are often thrown off their guard against a sudden change of fortune.
Avaunt! thou paltry contemptible insect! said a proud Lion one day to a Gnat that was frisking about in the air near his den. The Gnat, enraged at this unprovoked insult, vowed revenge, and immediately darted into the Lion’s ear. After having sufficiently teased him in that quarter, she quitted her station and retired under his belly, and from thence made her last and most formidable attack in his nostrils, where stinging him almost to madness, the Lion at length fell down, utterly spent with rage, vexation, and pain. The Gnat having thus abundantly gratified her resentment, flew off in great exultation; but in the heedless transports of her success, not sufficiently attending to her own security, she found herself unexpectedly entangled in the web of a spider; who, rushing out instantly upon her, put an end to her triumph and her life.
This fable instructs us, never to suffer success so far to transport us as to throw us off our guard against a reverse of fortune.
Fable XVI.
The Dog and the Crocodile.
It is ever dangerous to be long conversant with persons of a bad character.
We can never be too carefully guarded against a connection with persons of an ill character.
As a dog was coursing on the banks of the Nile, he grew thirsty; but fearing to be seized by the monsters of that river, he would not stop to satiate his draught, but lapped as he ran. A Crocodile, raising his head above the surface of the water, asked him, why he was in such a hurry. He had often, he said, wished for his acquaintance, and should be glad to embrace the present opportunity. You do me great honour, returned the Dog, but it is to avoid such companions as you that I am in so much haste.
Fable XVII.
The Wolf in Disguise.
There would be little chance of detecting hypocrisy, were it not always addicted to over-act its part.
Designing hypocrites frequently lay themselves open to discovery by over-acting their parts.
A Wolf, who by frequent visits to a flock of sheep in his neighbourhood, began to be extremely well known to them, thought it expedient, for the more successfully carrying on his depredations, to appear in a new character. To this end he disguised himself in a shepherd’s habit; and resting his fore-feet upon a stick, which served him by way of crook, he softly made his approaches towards the fold. It happened that the shepherd and his dog were both of them extended on the grass fast asleep; so that he would certainly have succeeded in his project, if he had not imprudently attempted to imitate the shepherd’s voice. The horrid noise awakened them both: when the Wolf, encumbered with his disguise, and finding it impossible either to resist or to flee, yielded up his life an easy prey to the shepherd’s dog.
Fable XVIII.
The Ass and his Master.
Avarice often misses its point, through the means it uses to secure it.
A diligent Ass, daily loaded beyond his strength by a severe Master, whom he had long served, and who kept him at very short commons, happened one day in his old age to be oppressed with a more than ordinary burthen of earthenware. His strength being much impaired, and the road deep and uneven, he unfortunately made a trip, and, unable to recover himself, fell down and broke all the vessels to pieces. His Master, transported with rage, began to beat him most unmercifully. Against whom the poor Ass, lifting up his head as he lay on the ground, thus strongly remonstrated: Unfeeling wretch! to thy own avaricious cruelty, in first pinching me of food, and then loading me beyond my strength, thou owest the misfortune which thou so unjustly imputest to me.
Fable XIX.
The Eagle and the Crow.
A false estimate of our own abilities ever exposes us to ridicule, and sometimes to danger.
To mistake our own talents, or over-rate our abilities, is always ridiculous, and sometimes dangerous.
An Eagle, from the top of a high mountain, making a stoop at a lamb, pounced upon it, and bore it away to her young. A Crow, who had built her nest in a cedar near the foot of the rock, observing what passed, was ambitious of performing the same exploit; and darting from her nest, fixed her talons in the fleece of another lamb. But neither able to move her prey, nor to disentangle her feet, she was taken by the shepherd, and carried away for his children to play with; who eagerly enquiring what bird it was:—An hour ago, said he, she fancied herself an eagle, however, I suppose she is by this time convinced that she is but a crow.
Fable XX.
The Lion, the Tyger, and the Fox.
The intemperate rage of clients gives the lawyer an opportunity of seizing the property in dispute.
A Lion and a Tyger jointly seized on a young fawn, which they immediately killed. This they had no sooner performed than they fell a fighting, in order to decide whose property it should be. The battle was so bloody and so obstinate that they were both compelled, through weariness and loss of blood, to desist; and lay down by mutual consent, totally disabled. At this instant, a Fox unluckily came by; who, perceiving their situation, made bold to seize the contested prey, and bore it off unmolested. As soon as the Lion could recover his breath,—How foolish, said he, has been our conduct! Instead of being contented, as we ought, with our respective shares, our senseless rage has rendered us unable to prevent this rascally Fox from defrauding us of the whole.
Fable XXI.
The Lion and the Ass.
A total neglect is the best return the generous can make to the scurrility of the base.
A conceited Ass had once the impertinence to bray forth some contemptuous speeches against the Lion. The suddenness of the insult at first raised some emotions of wrath in his breast; but turning his head, and perceiving from whence it came, they immediately subsided, and he very sedately walked on, without deigning to honour the contemptible creature even so much as with an angry word.
Fable XXII.
The Trumpeter.
The fomenter of mischief is at least as culpable as he who puts it in execution.
A Trumpeter in a certain army happened to be taken prisoner. He was ordered immediately to execution; but pleaded, in excuse for himself, that it was unjust a person should suffer death, who, far from an intention of mischief, did not even wear an offensive weapon. So much the rather, replied one of the enemy, shalt thou die; since without any design of fighting thyself, thou excitest others to the bloody business: for he that is the abetter of a bad action, is at least equally guilty with him that commits it.
Fable XXIII.
The Bear and the Bees.
It were more prudent to acquiesce under an injury from a single person, than by an act of vengeance to bring upon us the resentment of a whole community.
A Bear happened to be stung by a Bee, and the pain was so acute, that in the madness of revenge he ran into the garden and overturned the hive. This outrage provoked their anger to a high degree, and brought the fury of the whole swarm upon him. They attacked him with such violence, that his life was in danger, and it was with the utmost difficulty that he made his escape, wounded from head to tail. In this desperate condition, lamenting his misfortunes, and licking his sores, he could not forbear reflecting how much more advisable it had been to have patiently acquiesced under one injury, than thus by an unprofitable resentment to have provoked a thousand.
Fable XXIV.
The Oak and the Willow.
The courage of meeting death in an honourable cause is more commendable, than any address or artifice we can make use of to evade it.
A conceited Willow had once the vanity to challenge his mighty neighbour the Oak to a trial of strength. It was to be determined by the next storm; and Æolus was addressed by both parties to exert his most powerful efforts. This was no sooner asked than granted; and a violent hurricane arose, when the pliant Willow, bending from the blast, or shrinking under her, evaded all its force, while the generous Oak, disdaining to give way, opposed its fury, and was torn up by the roots. Immediately the Willow began to exult, and to claim the victory, when thus the fallen Oak interrupted his exultation: Callest thou this a trial of strength? Poor wretch! not to thy strength, but weakness; not to thy boldly facing danger, but meanly skulking from it, thou owest thy present safety. I am an Oak, though fallen; thou still a Willow, though unhurt: but who, except so mean a wretch as thyself, would prefer an ignominious life, preserved by craft or cowardice, to the glory of meeting death in an honourable cause?
Fable XXV.
The Bear and the Two Friends.
Cowards are incapable of true Friendship.
Two Friends, setting out together upon a journey which led through a dangerous forest, mutually promised to assist each other if they should happen to be assaulted. They had not proceeded far before they perceived a Bear making towards them with great rage. There were no hopes in flight; but one of them, being very active, sprung up into a tree; upon which the other, throwing himself flat on the ground, held his breath, and pretended to be dead, remembering to have heard it asserted that this creature will not prey upon a dead carcase. The Bear came up, and after smelling to him for some time, left him, and went on. When he was fairly out of sight and hearing, the hero from the tree calls out—Well, my friend, what said the Bear? He seemed to whisper you very closely. He did so, replied the other, and gave me this good piece of advice: Never to associate with a wretch who in the hour of danger will desert his friend.
Fable XXVI.
The Wasps and the Bees.
It is a folly to arrogate works to ourselves of which we are by no means capable.
Pretenders of every kind are best detected by appealing to their works.
Some honeycombs being claimed by a swarm of Wasps, the right owners protested against their demand, and the cause was referred to a Hornet. Witnesses being examined, they deposed that certain winged creatures, who had a loud hum, were of a yellowish colour, and somewhat like bees, were observed a considerable time hovering about the place where this nest was found. But this did not sufficiently decide the question; for these characteristics, the Hornet observed, agreed no less with the Bees than with the Wasps. At length a sensible old Bee offered to put the matter upon this decisive issue: Let a place be appointed by the court, said he, for the plaintiffs and defendants to work in. It will then soon appear which of us are capable of forming such regular cells, and afterwards of filling them with so delicious a fluid. The Wasps refusing to agree to this proposal, sufficiently convinced the judge on which side the right lay, and he decreed the honeycombs accordingly.
Fable XXVII.
Fortune and the School-boy.
We are always ready to censure Fortune for the ill effects of our own carelessness.
A School-boy, fatigued with play, threw himself down by the brink of a deep pit, where he fell fast asleep. Fortune happening to pass by, saw him in this dangerous situation, and kindly gave him a pat on the shoulder: My dear child, said she, if you had fallen into this pit, I should have borne the blame; though in fact the accident would have been wholly owing to your own carelessness.
Misfortune, said a celebrated Cardinal, is but another word for imprudence. The maxim is by no means absolutely true: certain, however, it is, that mankind suffer more evils from their own imprudence, than from events which it is not in their power to controul.
Fable XXVIII.
The Belly and the Limbs.
It is a folly even to wish to withhold our part from the support of civil government.
Menenius Agrippa, a Roman Consul, being deputed by the senate to appease a dangerous tumult and sedition of the people, who refused to pay the taxes necessary for carrying on the business of the state, convinced them of their folly by delivering to them the following fable:—
My friends and countrymen, said he, attend to my words. It once happened that the Members of the human body, taking some exception at the conduct of the Belly, resolved no longer to grant him the usual supplies. The Tongue first, in a seditious speech, aggravated their grievances; and after highly extolling the activity and diligence of the Hands and Feet, set forth how hard and unreasonable it was that the fruits of their labour should be squandered away upon the insatiable cravings of a fat and indolent Paunch, which was entirely useless, and unable to do anything towards helping himself. This speech was received with unanimous applause by all the Members. Immediately the Hands declared they would work no more; the Feet determined to carry no further the load of guts with which they had hitherto been oppressed; nay, the very Teeth refused to prepare a single morsel more for his use. In this distress, the Belly bethought them to consider maturely, and not foment so senseless a rebellion. There is none of you, says he, can be ignorant that whatsoever you bestow upon me is immediately converted to your use, and dispersed by me for the good of you all into every Limb. But he remonstrated in vain; for during the clamours of passion, the voice of reason is always disregarded. It being therefore impossible for him to quiet the tumult, he starved for want of their assistance, and the body wasted away to a skeleton. The Limbs, grown weak and languid, were sensible at last of their error, and would fain have returned to their respective duties; but it was now too late, death had taken possession of the whole, and they all perished together.
Fable XXIX.
The Wolf and the Lamb.
They who do not feel the sentiments of humanity will seldom listen to the pleas of reason.
When cruelty and injustice are armed with power, and determined on oppression, the strongest pleas of innocence are preferred in vain.
A Wolf and a Lamb were accidentally quenching their thirst together at the same rivulet. The Wolf stood towards the head of the stream, and the Lamb at some distance below. The injurious beast, resolved on a quarrel, fiercely demands—How dare you disturb the water which I am drinking? The poor Lamb, all trembling, replies, How, I beseech you, can that possibly be the case, since the current sets from you to me? Disconcerted by the force of truth, he changes the accusation. Six months ago, says he, you vilely slandered me. Impossible, returns the Lamb, for I was not then born. No matter, it was your father, then, or some of your relations; and immediately seizing the innocent Lamb, he tore him to pieces.
Fable XXX.
The Daw with Borrowed Feathers.
To aim at figure by the means either of borrowed wit, or borrowed money, generally subjects us at least to tenfold ridicule.
When a pert young Templar or city apprentice sets up for a fine gentleman, with the assistance of an embroidered waistcoat and Dresden ruffles, but without one qualification proper to the character, how frequently does it happen that he is laughed at by his equals, and despised by those whom he presumed to imitate!
A pragmatic Jackdaw was vain enough to imagine that he wanted nothing but the coloured plumes to render him as elegant a bird as the Peacock. Puffed up with this wise conceit, he dressed himself with a sufficient quantity of their most beautiful feathers, and in this borrowed garb, forsaking his old companions, endeavoured to pass for a Peacock; but he no sooner attempted to associate with these genteel creatures, than an affected strut betrayed the vain pretender. The offended Peacocks, plucking from him their degraded feathers, soon stripped him of his finery, reduced him to a mere Jackdaw, and drove him back to his brethren, by whom he was now equally despised, and justly punished with derision and contempt.
Fable XXXI.
The Wolf and the Shepherds.
We severely censure that in others, which we ourselves practise without scruple.
How apt are men to condemn in others what they practise themselves without scruple!
A Wolf, says Plutarch, peeping into a hut where a company of Shepherds were regaling themselves with a joint of mutton; Lord, said he, what a clamour would these men have raised if they had catched me at such a banquet!
Fable XXXII.
The Eagle and the Owl.
The partiality of parents often makes themselves ridiculous, and their children unhappy.
An Eagle and an Owl having entered into a league of mutual amity, one of the articles of their treaty was, that the former should not prey upon the younglings of the latter. But tell me, said the Owl, should you know my little ones if you were to see them? Indeed I should not, replied the Eagle; but if you describe them to me, it will be sufficient. You are to observe, then, returned the Owl, in the first place, that the charming creatures are perfectly well shaped; in the next, that there is a remarkable sweetness and vivacity in their countenances; and then there is something in their voices so peculiarly melodious. It is enough, interrupted the Eagle; by these marks I cannot fail of distinguishing them; and you may depend upon their never receiving any injury from me. It happened, not long afterwards, as the Eagle was upon the wing in quest of his prey, that he discovered amidst the ruins of an old castle a nest of grim-faced ugly birds, with gloomy countenances, and a voice like that of the Furies. These, undoubtedly, said he, cannot be the offspring of my friend, and so I shall venture to make free with them. He had scarce finished his repast and departed, when the Owl returned; who, finding nothing of her brood remaining but some fragments of the mangled carcases, broke out into the most bitter exclamations against the cruel and perfidious author of her calamity. A neighbouring Bat, who overheard her lamentations, and had been witness to what had passed between her and the Eagle, very gravely told her that she had nobody to blame for this misfortune but herself, whose blind prejudices in favour of her children had prompted her to give such a description of them as did not resemble them in any one single feature or quality.
Parents should very carefully guard against that weak partiality towards their children which renders them blind to their failings and imperfections, as no disposition is more likely to prove prejudicial to their future welfare.
Fable XXXIII.
The Sick Lion, the Fox, and the Wolf.
Men who meditate mischief, suggest the same to others; and generally pay dear for their froward gratifications.
A Lion, having surfeited himself with feasting too luxuriously on the carcase of a wild boar, was seized with a violent and dangerous disorder. The beasts of the forest flocked in great numbers to pay their respects to him upon the occasion, and scarce one was absent except the Fox. The Wolf, an ill-natured and malicious beast, seized this opportunity to accuse the Fox of pride, ingratitude, and disaffection to his majesty. In the midst of his invective, the Fox entered; who having heard part of the Wolf’s accusation, and observing the Lion’s countenance to be kindled into wrath, thus adroitly excused himself, and retorted upon his accuser: I see many here who with mere lip service have pretended to shew you their loyalty; but for my part, from the moment I heard of your majesty’s illness, neglecting useless compliments, I employed myself day and night to enquire among the most learned physicians an infallible remedy for your disease, and have at length happily been informed of one. It is a plaister made of part of a Wolf’s skin, taken warm from his back, and laid to your majesty’s stomach. This remedy was no sooner proposed than it was determined that the experiment should be tried; and whilst the operation was performing, the Fox, with a sarcastic smile, whispered this useful maxim in the Wolf’s ear—If you would be safe from harm yourself, learn for the future not to meditate mischief against others.
Fable XXXIV.
The Blind Man and the Lame.
The wants and weaknesses of individuals form the connections of society.
A Blind man, being stopped in a bad piece of road, meets with a Lame man, and intreats him to guide him through the difficulty he was got into. How can I do that, replied the Lame man, since I am scarce able to drag myself along? But as you appear to be very strong, if you will carry me, we will seek our fortunes together. It will then be my interest to warn you of anything that may obstruct your way; your feet shall be my feet, and my eyes yours. With all my heart, returned the Blind Man; let us render each other our mutual services. So taking his lame companion on his back, they by means of their union travelled on with safety and pleasure.
Fable XXXV.
The Lion, the Bear, the Monkey, and the Fox.
It is often more prudent to suppress our sentiments than either to flatter or to rail.
The Tyrant of the forest issued a proclamation, commanding all his subjects to repair immediately to his royal den. Among the rest the Bear made his appearance; but pretending to be offended with the steams which issued from the monarch’s apartments, he was imprudent enough to hold his nose in his majesty’s presence. This insolence was so highly resented, that the Lion in a rage laid him dead at his feet. The Monkey, observing what had passed, trembled for his carcase; and attempted to conciliate favour by the most abject flattery. He began with protesting, that for his part he thought the apartments were perfumed with Arabian spices; and exclaiming against the rudeness of the Bear, admired the beauty of his majesty’s paws, so happily formed, he said, to correct the insolence of clowns. This fulsome adulation, instead of being received as he expected, proved no less offensive than the rudeness of the Bear; and the courtly Monkey was in like manner extended by the side of Sir Bruin. And now his majesty cast his eye upon the Fox. Well, Reynard, said he, and what scent do you discover here? Great prince, replied the cautious Fox, my nose was never esteemed my most distinguishing sense; and at present I would by no means venture to give my opinion, as I have unfortunately got a terrible cold.
Fable XXXVI.
The Two Horses.
The object of our pride is often the cause of our misfortunes.
Two Horses were travelling the road together; one loaded with a sack of flour, the other with a sum of money. The latter, proud of his splendid burthen, tossed up his head with an air of conscious superiority, and every now and then cast a look of contempt upon his humble companion. In passing through a wood, they were met by a gang of highwaymen, who immediately seized upon the horse that was carrying the treasure; but the spirited steed not being altogether disposed to stand so quietly as was necessary for their purpose, they beat him most unmercifully, and after plundering him of his boasted load, left him to lament at his leisure the cruel bruises he had received. Friend, said his despised companion to him (who had now reason to triumph in his turn), distinguished posts are often dangerous to those who possess them: if you had served a miller, as I do, you might have travelled the road unmolested.
Fable XXXVII.
The Mock-bird.
Ridicule appears with a very ill grace in persons who possess no one talent beside.
There is a certain bird in the West Indies, which has the faculty of mimicking the notes of every other songster, without being able himself to add any original strains to the concert. As one of these Mock-birds was displaying his talent of ridicule among the branches of a venerable wood: ’Tis very well, said a little warbler, speaking in the name of all the rest; we grant you that our music is not without its faults: but why will you not favour us with a strain of your own?
Fable XXXVIII.
The Ant and the Caterpillar.
Boys of no very promising appearance often become the greatest men.
As a Caterpillar was advancing very slowly along one of the alleys of a beautiful garden, he was met by a pert lively Ant, who tossing up her head with a scornful air, cried, Prithee get out of the way, thou poor creeping animal, and do not presume to obstruct the paths of thy superiors, by wriggling along the road, and besmearing the walks appropriated to their footsteps. Poor creature! thou lookest like a thing half-made, which Nature not liking threw by unfinished. I could almost pity thee, methinks; but it is beneath one of my quality to talk to such mean creatures as thou art: and so, poor crawling wretch, adieu.
The humble Caterpillar, struck dumb with this disdainful language, retired, went to work, wound himself up in a silken cell, and at the appointed time came out a beautiful Butterfly. Just as he was sallying forth, he observed the scornful Ant passing by. Proud insect, said he, stop a moment, and learn from the circumstances in which you now see me, never to despise any one for that condition in which Providence has thought fit to place him; as there is none so mean but may one day, either in this state or in a better, be exalted above those who looked down upon him with unmerited contempt.
Fable XXXIX.
The Two Lizards.
The superior safety of an obscure and humble station, is a balance for the honours of high and envied life.
As two Lizards were basking under a south wall, How contemptible, said one of them, is our condition! We exist, ’tis true, but that is all: for we hold no sort of rank in the creation, and are utterly unnoticed by the world. Cursed obscurity! Why was I not rather born a stag, to range at large, the pride and glory of some royal forest? It happened, that in the midst of these unjust murmurs, a pack of hounds was heard in full cry after the very creature he was envying, who, being quite spent with the chase, was torn in pieces by the dogs in sight of our two Lizards. And is this the lordly stag, whose place in the creation you wish to hold? said the wiser Lizard to his complaining friend: Let his sad fate teach you to bless Providence for placing you in that humble situation, which secures you from the dangers of a more elevated rank.
Fable XL.
Jupiter’s Lottery.
Folly, passing with men for wisdom, makes each contented with his own share of understanding.
Jupiter, in order to please mankind, directed Mercury to give notice that he had established a Lottery, in which there were no blanks; and that amongst a variety of other valuable chances, Wisdom was the highest prize. It was Jupiter’s command, that in this Lottery some of the gods should also become adventurers. The tickets being disposed of, and the wheels placed, Mercury was employed to preside at the drawing. It happened that the best prize fell to Minerva: upon which a general murmur ran through the assembly, and hints were thrown out that Jupiter had used some unfair practices to secure this desirable lot to his daughter. Jupiter, that he might at once both punish and silence these impious clamours of the human race, presented them with Folly in the place of Wisdom; with which they went away perfectly well contented. And from that time the greatest Fools have always looked upon themselves as the wisest men.
Fable XLI.
The Snipe Shooter.
We often miss our point by dividing our attention.
As a sportsman ranged the fields with his gun, attended by an experienced old Spaniel, he happened to spring a Snipe; and almost at the same instant, a covey of Partridges. Surprised at the accident, and divided in his aim, he let fly too indeterminately, and by this means missed them both. Ah, my good master, said the Spaniel, you should never have two aims at once. Had you not been dazzled and seduced by the luxurious hope of Partridge, you would most probably have secured your Snipe.
Fable XLII.
The Two Dogs.
Our own moderation will not secure us from disturbance, if we connect ourselves with men of turbulent and litigious dispositions.
Hasty and inconsiderate connections are generally attended with great disadvantages: and much of every man’s good or ill fortune depends upon the choice he makes of his friends.
A good-natured Spaniel overtook a surly Mastiff, as he was travelling upon the high road. Tray, although an entire stranger to Tyger, very civilly accosted him: And if it would be no interruption, he said, he should be glad to bear him company on his way. Tyger, who happened not to be altogether in so growling a mood as usual, accepted the proposal; and they very amicably pursued their journey together. In the midst of their conversation they arrived at the next village, where Tyger began to display his malignant disposition, by an unprovoked attack upon every dog he met. The villagers immediately sallied forth with great indignation to rescue their respective favourites; and falling upon our two friends without distinction or mercy, poor Tray was most cruelly treated, for no other reason but his being found in bad company.
Fable XLIII.
The Trouts and the Gudgeon.
A person can hardly be deemed too cautious, where the first mistake is irretrievable, or fatal.
A fisherman in the month of May stood angling on the banks of the Thames with an artificial fly. He threw his bait with so much art, that a young Trout was rushing towards it, when she was prevented by her mother. Never, said she, my child, be too precipitate, where there is a possibility of danger. Take due time to consider, before you risk an action that may be fatal. How know you whether yon appearance be indeed a fly, or the snare of an enemy? Let some one else make the experiment before you. If it be a fly, he very probably will elude the first attack: and the second may be made, if not with success, at least with safety.—She had no sooner uttered this caution, than a Gudgeon seized upon the pretended fly, and became an example to the giddy daughter of the great importance of her mother’s counsel.
Fable XLIV.
The Sun and the Wind.
Gentle means, on many occasions, are more effectual than violent ones.
Phoebus and Æolus had once a dispute which of them could soonest prevail with a certain traveller to part with his cloak. Æolus began the attack, and assaulted him with great violence. But the man, wrapping his cloak still closer about him, doubled his efforts to keep it, and went on his way. And now, Phoebus darted his warm insinuating rays, which melting the traveller by degrees, at length obliged him to throw aside that cloak which all the rage of Æolus could not compel him to resign. Learn hence, said Phoebus to the blustering god, that soft and gentle means will often accomplish what force and fury can never effect.
Fable XLV.
The Boy and the Nettle.
There are certain persons who require to be treated rather with spirit and resolution, than either tenderness or delicacy.
A little Boy playing in the fields, chanced to be stung by a Nettle, and came crying to his father: he told him, he had been hurt by that nasty weed several times before; that he was always afraid of it; and that now he did but just touch it, as lightly as possible, when he was so severely stung. Child, says he, your touching it so gently and timorously is the very reason of its hurting you. A Nettle may be handled safely, if you do it with courage and resolution; if you seize it boldly and gripe it fast, be assured it will never sting you: and you will meet with many sorts of persons, as well as things in the world, which ought to be treated in the very same manner.
Fable XLVI.
The Beggar and his Dog.
’Tis misery to depend upon patrons, whose circumstances make their charity necessary at home.
A Beggar and his Dog sat at the gate of a noble Courtier, and was preparing to make a meal on a bowl of fragments from the Kitchen-maid. A poor Dependant of his Lordship’s, who had been sharing the singular favour of a dinner at the Steward’s table, was struck with the appearance, and stopped a little to observe them. The Beggar, hungry and voracious as any Courtier in Christendom, seized with greediness the choicest morsels, and swallowed them himself; the residue was divided into portions for his children. A scrag was thrust into one pocket for honest Jack, a crust into another for bashful Tom, and a luncheon of cheese was wrapt up with care for the little favourite of his hopeful family. In short, if anything was thrown to the Dog, it was a bone so closely picked, that it scarce afforded a pittance to keep life and soul together. How exactly alike, said the Dependant, is this poor Dog’s case and mine! He is watching for a dinner from a master who cannot spare it; I for a place from a needy Lord, whose wants perhaps are greater than my own, and whose relations more clamorous than any of this Beggar’s brats. Shrewdly was it said by an ingenious writer, a Courtier’s Dependant is a Beggar’s Dog.
Fable XLVII.
The Fox and the Stork.
We should always reflect, before we rally another, whether we can bear to have the jest retorted.
The Fox, though in general more inclined to roguery than wit, had once a strong inclination to play the wag with his neighbour the Stork. He accordingly invited her to dinner in great form; but when it came upon the table the Stork found it consisted entirely of different soups, served up in broad shallow dishes, so that she could only dip in the end of her bill, but could not possibly satisfy her hunger. The Fox lapped it up very readily, and every now and then, addressing himself to his guest, desired to know how she liked her entertainment; hoped that everything was seasoned to her mind, and protested he was very sorry to see her eat so sparingly. The Stork, perceiving she was played upon, took no notice of it, but pretended to like every dish extremely; and at parting pressed the Fox so earnestly to return her visit, that he could not in civility refuse. The day arrived, and he repaired to his appointment; but to his great mortification, when dinner appeared, he found it composed of minced meat, served up in long narrow-necked glasses; so that he was only tantalized with the sight of what it was impossible for him to taste. The Stork thrust in her long bill, and helped herself very plentifully; then turning to Reynard, who was eagerly licking the outside of a jar where some sauce had been spilled: I am very glad, said she, smiling, that you seem to have so good an appetite; I hope you will make as hearty a dinner at my table as I did the other day at yours. Reynard hung down his head, and looked very much displeased—— Nay, nay, said the Stork, don’t pretend to be out of humour about the matter; they that cannot take a jest should never make one.
Fable XLVIII.
The Trees and the Bramble.
The most worthless persons are generally the most presuming.
The Israelites, ever murmuring and discontented under the reign of Jehovah, were desirous of having a king, like the rest of the nations. They offered the kingdom to Gideon, their deliverer; to him, and to his posterity after him. He generously refused their offer, and reminded them that Jehovah was their king. When Gideon was dead, Abimelech, his son by a concubine, slew all his other sons to the number of seventy, Jotham alone escaping; and by the assistance of the Shechemites made himself king. Jotham, to represent to them their folly, and to shew them that the most deserving are generally the least ambitious, whereas the worthless grasp at power with eagerness, and exercise it with insolence and tyranny, spake to them in the following manner:
Hearken unto me, ye men of Shechem, so may God hearken unto you. The Trees, grown weary of the state of freedom and equality in which God had placed them, consulted together to choose and to anoint a king over them; and they said to the Olive-tree, Reign thou over us. But the Olive-tree said unto them, Shall I quit my fatness wherewith God and man is honoured, to disquiet myself with the cares of government, and to rule over the Trees? And they said unto the Fig-tree, Come thou and reign over us. But the Fig-tree said unto them, Shall I bid adieu to my sweetness and my pleasant fruit, to take upon me the painful charge of royalty, and to be set over the Trees? Then said the Trees unto the Vine, Come thou and reign over us. But the Vine said also unto them, Shall I leave my wine which honoureth God and cheereth man, to bring upon myself nothing but trouble and anxiety, and to become king of the Trees? we are happy in our present lot: seek some other to reign over you. Then said all the Trees unto the Bramble. Come thou and reign over us. And the Bramble said unto them, I will be your king; come ye all under my shadow and be safe; obey me, and I will grant you my protection. But if you obey me not, out of the Bramble shall come forth a fire, which shall devour even the cedars of Lebanon.
