{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_15946/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_15946","id":"gutenberg_15946","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/15946","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Children & Young Adult Reading","Category: French Literature","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Fables, French -- Translations into English"],"text":"Produced by Jason Isbell, Julia Miller and the Online\nDistributed Proofreading Team.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nTALES FOR CHILDREN FROM MANY LANDS\n\n\n      EDITED BY F.C. TILNEY\n\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: The heart of Thyrsis left.]\n\n\n\n\n\nTHE ORIGINAL FABLES OF LA FONTAINE\n\n    RENDERED INTO ENGLISH PROSE\n\n               BY\n\n       FREDK. COLIN TILNEY\n\n\n\n\nWITH COLOURED ILLUSTRATIONS BY THE AUTHOR\n\n\nLONDON: J.M. DENT & SONS LIMITED\nNEW YORK: E.P. DUTTON & COMPANY\n\n\n\n\nPREFACE\n\n\nIf deep wisdom, gentle satire, polite cynicism, and, above all,\nirresistible humour are qualities which make a book attractive then La\nFontaine's _Fables_ should be in the hands of all. Their charm is\ntwo-fold; for whilst they induce pleasurable reflection in the reader\nthey delight him by the gaiety of their subject matter.\n\nNotwithstanding the fact that the spell of La Fontaine's verse\nnecessarily disappears when another tongue is employed, his English\ntranslators, both Elizur Wright and Walter Thornbury, have courageously\nattempted to do him justice in prosody. In this little book no such\neffort has been made, chiefly for the reason that, for any but the\nunusually gifted, to snatch at rhythm and rhyme is often to let drop the\napt and ready word as AEsop's mastiff dropped his dinner. But there is a\nfurther excuse for the present writer. Verse has little attraction for\nchildren unless it jingles merrily, and that is a thing as impossible as\nit is undesirable where the claims of a philosophic original make\nrestrictions. Since the spirit is more likely to survive if the letter\nis not exacting, it is difficult to see why custom looks askance upon\nprose versions of poetry. But this little book may escape such censure\non the ground of its being but a selection from the complete _Fables_ of\nLa Fontaine. It presents only those of which the great fabulist was\nhimself the originator. A selection of some sort being imperative there\nseemed to be a simple and easy choice in the condition of absolute\noriginality; particularly as the older fables are given in another\nvolume of this series.\n\nThis translation (in which I gratefully acknowledge the assistance of my\nfriend Mrs. A.H. Beddoe) is neither \"free\" nor literal. It sometimes\namplifies a thought, much as a musician might amplify the harmonies upon\na master's figured bass. But even this is rarely done, and then only\nwith a view to the youthful reader's pleasure and profit. With that\nview, further, the social and political introductions to the fables have\nbeen omitted, as well as the scientific discourses and the allusions to\nthe unfortunate wars of Louis XIV. and other historical matters, all of\nwhich would have neither meaning nor interest but for \"grown-ups\" of a\ncertain class.\n\nF.C. TILNEY.\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\n                                                         PAGE\n\nTHE TWO MULES                                             13\n\nTHE HARE AND THE PARTRIDGE                                15\n\nTHE GARDENER AND HIS LANDLORD                             17\n\nTHE MAN AND HIS IMAGE                                     20\n\nTHE ANIMALS SICK OF THE PLAGUE                            22\n\nTHE UNHAPPILY MARRIED MAN                                 25\n\nTHE RAT RETIRED FROM THE WORLD                            27\n\nTHE MAIDEN                                                29\n\nTHE WISHES                                                31\n\nTHE DAIRY-WOMAN AND THE PAIL OF MILK                      34\n\nTHE PRIEST AND THE CORPSE                                 36\n\nTHE MAN WHO RAN AFTER FORTUNE AND THE MAN WHO\nWAITED FOR HER IN HIS BED                                 38\n\nAN ANIMAL IN THE MOON                                     42\n\nTHE FORTUNE-TELLERS                                       44\n\nTHE COBBLER AND THE FINANCIER                             47\n\nTHE POWER OF FABLE                                        50\n\nTHE DOG WHO CARRIED HIS MASTER'S DINNER                   52\n\nTHYRSIS AND AMARANTH                                      54\n\nTHE RAT AND THE ELEPHANT                                  56\n\nTHE HOROSCOPE                                             57\n\nJUPITER AND THE THUNDERBOLTS                              60\n\nEDUCATION                                                 62\n\nDEMOCRITUS AND THE PEOPLE OF ABDERA                       64\n\nTHE ACORN AND THE PUMPKIN                                 67\n\nTHE SCHOOLBOY, THE PEDANT, AND THE OWNER OF A GARDEN      69\n\nTHE SCULPTOR AND THE STATUE OF JUPITER                    71\n\nTHE OYSTER AND THE PLEADERS                               73\n\nTHE CAT AND THE FOX                                       75\n\nTHE MONKEY AND THE CAT                                    77\n\nTHE TWO RATS, THE FOX, AND THE EGG                        79\n\nTHE DOG WITH HIS EARS CROPPED                             86\n\nTHE LIONESS AND THE SHE-BEAR                              88\n\nTHE RABBITS                                               90\n\nTHE GODS WISHING TO INSTRUCT A SON OF JUPITER             93\n\nTHE LION, THE MONKEY, AND THE TWO ASSES                   95\n\nTHE WOLF AND THE FOX IN THE WELL                          98\n\nTHE MICE AND THE SCREECH-OWL                             100\n\nTHE COMPANIONS OF ULYSSES                                102\n\nTHE QUARREL BETWEEN THE DOGS AND THE CATS AND BETWEEN\nTHE CATS AND THE MICE                                    106\n\nTHE WOLF AND THE FOX                                     109\n\nLOVE AND FOLLY                                           111\n\nTHE FOREST AND THE WOODCUTTER                            113\n\nTHE FOX AND THE YOUNG TURKEYS                            115\n\nTHE APE                                                  117\n\nTHE SCYTHIAN PHILOSOPHER                                 118\n\nTHE ELEPHANT AND JUPITER'S APE                           120\n\nTHE LEAGUE OF RATS                                       122\n\nTHE ARBITER, THE HOSPITALLER, AND THE HERMIT             124\n\n\n\n\nLIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS\n\n\nTHE HEART OF THYRSIS LEAPT                      Frontispiece\n\n\"YOU BOASTED OF BEING SO SWIFT\"            Facing page    14\n\nOVER TOPPLED THE MILK                           \"         35\n\nTHE GARRET WAS STILL A SIBYL'S DEN              \"         46\n\nDELIBERATELY SWALLOWED THE OYSTER               \"         74\n\n\"WHY CANNOT YOU BE SILENT ALSO?\"                \"         88\n\nDESCENDED BY HIS GREATER WEIGHT                 \"         98\n\nA GUIDE FOR THE FOOTSTEPS OF LOVE               \"        111\n\n\n\n\nThe poet Jean de la Fontaine was born at Chateau-Thierry on July 8,\n1621. He was a kindly, merry, and generous man and much beloved. His\nfables were written in verse and were published in three collections at\ndifferent times of his life. Many were new versions of existing fables;\nbut those of his later years were more often original inventions.\n\nAll in this book are of La Fontaine's own invention, although several\nhave since appeared in collections of AEsop's fables without the\nacknowledgment that is La Fontaine's due.\n\nHe died on April 13, 1695, at the age of seventy-three.\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\nI\n\nTHE TWO MULES\n\n(BOOK I.--No. 4)\n\n\nThere were two heavily-laden mules making a journey together. One was\ncarrying oats and the other bore a parcel of silver money collected from\nthe people as a tax upon salt. This, we learn, was a tax which produced\nmuch money for the government, but it bore very hard upon the people,\nwho revolted many times against it.\n\nThe mule that carried the silver was very proud of his burden, and would\nnot have been relieved of it if he could. As he stepped out he took care\nthat the bells upon his harness should jingle well as became a mule of\nso much importance.\n\nSuddenly a band of robbers burst into the road, pounced upon the\ntreasure mule, seized it by the bridle, and stopped it short.\nStruggling to defend itself the unhappy creature groaned and sighed as\nit cried: \"Is this then the fate that has been in store for me: that I\nmust fall and perish whilst my fellow traveller escapes free from\ndanger?\"\n\n\n\"My friend,\" exclaimed the mule that carried only the oats, and whom the\nrobbers had not troubled about, \"it is not always good to have exalted\nwork to do. Had you been like me, a mere slave to a miller, you would\nnot have been in such a bad way now!\"\n\n[Illustration: You boasted of being so swift.]\n\n\n\n\nII\n\nTHE HARE AND THE PARTRIDGE\n\n(BOOK V.--No. 17)\n\n\nNever mock at other people's misfortune; for you cannot tell how soon\nyou yourself may be unhappy. AEsop the sage has given us one or two\nexamples of this truth, and I am going to tell you of a similar one now.\n\nA hare and a partridge were living as fellow-citizens very peacefully in\na field, when a pack of hounds making an onset obliged the hare to seek\nrefuge. He rushed into his form and succeeded in putting the hounds at\nfault. But here the scent from his over-heated body betrayed him.\nTowler, philosophising, concluded that this scent came from his hare,\nand with admirable zeal routed him out. Then old Trusty, who never is at\nfault, proclaimed that the hare was gone away. The poor unfortunate\ncreature at last died in his form.\n\nThe partridge, his companion, thought fit to soothe his last moments\nwith some scoffing remarks upon his fate. \"You boasted of being so\nswift,\" she said \"What has come to your feet, then?\"\n\n\nBut even as she was chuckling her own turn came. Secure in the belief\nthat her wings would save her whatever happened, she did not reckon upon\nthe cruel talons of the hawk.\n\n\n\n\nIII\n\nTHE GARDENER AND HIS LANDLORD\n\n(BOOK IV.--No. 4)\n\n\nA man who had a great fondness for gardening, being half a countryman\nand half town-bred, possessed in a certain village a fair-sized plot\nwith a field attached, and all enclosed by a quickset hedge. Here sorrel\nand lettuce grew freely, as well as such flowers as Spanish jasmine and\nwild thyme, and from these his good wife Margot culled many a posy for\nher high days and holidays.\n\nThis happy state of things was soon troubled by the visits of a hare,\nand to such an extent that the man had to go to his landlord and lodge a\ncomplaint. \"This wretched animal,\" he said, \"comes here and stuffs\nhimself night and morning, and simply laughs at traps and snares. As for\nstones and sticks they make no difference whatever to him. He must be\nenchanted.\"\n\n\"Enchanted!\" cried the landlord. \"I defy enchantment! Were he the devil\nhimself old Towler would soon rout him out in spite of his tricks. I'll\nrid you of him, my man, never fear!\"\n\n\"And when?\" asked the man.\n\n\"Oh, to-morrow, without more delay!\"\n\nThe affair being thus arranged, on the morrow came the landlord with all\nhis following. \"First of all,\" he said, \"how about breakfast? Your\nchickens are tender I'll be bound. Come here, my dear,\" he added,\naddressing the man's daughter, and then, to her father, \"When are you\ngoing to let her marry? Hasn't a son-in-law come on the scene yet? My\ndear fellow, this is a thing that positively must be done you know,\nyou'll have to put your hand in your pocket to some purpose.\" So saying\nhe sat down beside the damsel, took her hand, held her by the arm, toyed\nwith her fichu, and took other silly and trifling liberties which the\ngirl resented with great self-respect, whilst the father grew a little\nuneasy in his mind.\n\nNevertheless, the cooking went on. There was quite a run on the kitchen.\n\n\"How ripe are your hams? They look good.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" replied the flattered host, \"they are yours.\"\n\n\"Oh, really now! Well I'll take them, and that right gladly.\"\n\nThe landlord and his family, his dogs, his horses, and his men-servants,\nall take breakfast with hearty appetites. He assumes the host's place\nand privileges, drinks his wine and caresses his daughter. After this a\ncrowd of hunters take seats at the breakfast table.\n\nNow everybody is lively and busy with preparations for the hunt. They\nwind the horns to such purpose that the good man is dumbfounded by the\ndin. Worse than that they make terrible havoc in the poor garden.\nGood-bye to all the neat rows and beds! Good-bye to the chickory and the\nleeks! Good-bye to all the pot-herbs!\n\nThe hare lies hidden under the leaves of a great cabbage, but being\ndiscovered is quickly started, whereupon he rushes to a hole--nay, worse\nthan a hole, a great and horrible gap in the poor hedge, made by the\nlandlord's order, so that they might all burst out of the garden in fine\nstyle; for it would have looked ridiculous for them to ride out at the\ngate.\n\nThe poor man objected. \"This is fine fun for princes, no doubt----\"; but\nthey let him talk, whilst dogs and men together did more harm in one\nhour than all the hares in the province would have done in a century.\n\n\nLittle princes, settle your own quarrels amongst yourselves. It is\nmadness to have recourse to kings. You should never let them engage in\nyour wars, nor even enter your domains.\n\n\n\n\nIV\n\nTHE MAN AND HIS IMAGE\n\n(BOOK I.--No. 11)\n\n\nOnce there was a man who loved himself very much, and who permitted\nhimself no rivals in that love. He thought his face and figure the\nhandsomest in all the world. Anything in the shape of a mirror that\ncould show him his own likeness he took care to avoid; for he did not\nwant to be reminded that perhaps he was over-rating his beauty. For this\nreason he hated looking-glasses and accused them of being false. He made\na very great mistake in this respect; but that he did not mind, being\nquite content to live in the happiness the mistake afforded him.\n\nTo cure him of so grievous an error, officious Fate managed matters in\nsuch a way that wherever he turned his eyes they would fall on one of\nthose mute little counsellors that ladies carry and appeal to when they\nare anxious about their appearance. He found mirrors in the houses;\nmirrors in the shops; mirrors in the pockets of gallants; mirrors even\nas ornaments on waist-belts of ladies.\n\nWhat was he to do--this poor Narcissus? He thought to avoid all such\nthings by going far away from haunts of mankind, where he should never\nhave to face a mirror again. But in the woods to which he retreated a\nclear rivulet ran. Into this he happened to look and--saw himself again.\nAngrily he told himself that his eyes had been deluded by an idle fancy.\nHenceforth he would keep away from the water! This he tried his utmost\nto do; but who can resist the beauty of a woodland stream? There he was\nand remained, always with that which he had determined to shun.\n\n\nMy meaning is easily seen. It applies to everybody; for everybody takes\nsome joy in harbouring this very error. The man in love with himself\nstands for the soul of each one of us. All the mirrors wherein he saw\nhimself reflected stand for the faults of other people, in which we\nreally see our own faults though we hate to recognise them as such. As\nfor the brook, that, as every one knows, stands for the book of maxims\nwhich the Duke de la Rochefoucauld[1] wrote.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[Footnote 1: This fable was dedicated to the Duke de la Rochefoucauld.]\n\n\n\n\nV\n\nTHE ANIMALS SICK OF THE PLAGUE\n\n(BOOK VII.--No. 1)\n\n\nOne of those dread evils which spread terror far and wide, and which\nHeaven, in its anger, ordains for the punishment of wickedness upon\nearth--a plague in fact; and so dire a one as to make rich in one day\nthat grim ferryman who takes a coin from all who cross the river Acheron\nto the land of the dead--such a plague was once waging war against the\nanimals. All were attacked, although all did not die. So hopeless was\nthe case that not one of them attempted to sustain their sinking lives.\nEven the sight of food did not rouse them. Wolves and foxes no longer\nturned eager and calculating eyes upon their gentle and guileless prey.\nThe turtle-doves went no more in cooing pairs, but were content to avoid\neach other. Love and the joy that comes of love were both at an end.\n\nAt length the lion called a council of all the beasts and addressed them\nin these words: \"My dear friends, it seems to me that it is for our sins\nthat Heaven has permitted this misfortune to fall upon us. Would it not\nbe well if the most blameworthy among us allowed himself to be offered\nas a sacrifice to appease the celestial wrath? By so doing he might\nsecure our recovery. History tells us that this course is usually\npursued in such cases as ours. Let us look into our consciences without\nself-deception or condoning. For my own part, I freely admit that in\norder to satisfy my gluttony I have devoured an appalling number of\nsheep; and yet what had they done to me to deserve such a fate? Nothing\nthat could be called an offence. Sometimes, indeed, I have gone so far\nas to eat the shepherd too! On the whole, I think I had better render\nmyself for this act of sacrifice; that is, if we agree that it is a\nthing necessary to the general good. And yet I think it would be only\nfair that every one should declare his sins as well as I; for I could\nwish that, in justice, it were the most culpable that should perish.\"\n\n\"Sire,\" said the fox, \"you are really too yielding for a king, and your\nscruples show too much delicacy of feeling. Eating sheep indeed! What of\nthat?--a foolish and rascally tribe! Is that a crime? No! a hundred\ntimes no! On the contrary your noble jaws did but do them great honour.\nAs for the shepherd, it may be fairly said that all the harm he got he\nmerited, since he was one of those who fancy they have dominion over the\nanimal kingdom.\" Thus spake the fox and every other flatterer in the\nassembly applauded him. Nor did any seek to inquire deeply into the\nleast pardonable offences of the tiger, the bear, and the other mighty\nones. All those of an aggressive nature, right down to the simple\nwatch-dog, were something like saints in their own opinions.\n\nWhen the ass stood forth in his turn he struck a different note: nothing\nof fangs and talons and blood. \"I remember,\" he said, \"that once in\npassing a field belonging to a monastery I was urged by hunger, by\nopportunity, by the tenderness of the grass, and perhaps by the evil one\negging me on, to enter and crop just a taste, about as much as the\nlength of my tongue. I know that I did wrong, having really no right\nthere.\"\n\nAt these words all the assembly turned upon him. The wolf took upon\nhimself to make a speech proving without doubt that the ass was an\naccursed wretch, a mangy brute, who certainly ought to be told off for\nsacrifice, since through his wickedness all their misfortunes had come\nabout. His peccadillo was judged to be a hanging matter. \"What! eat the\ngrass belonging to another? How abominable a crime! Nothing but death\ncould expiate such an outrage!\" And forthwith they proved as much to the\npoor ass.\n\n\nAccordingly as your power is great or small, the judgments of a court\nwill whiten or blacken your reputation.\n\n\n\n\nVI\n\nTHE UNHAPPILY MARRIED MAN\n\n(BOOK VII.--No. 2)\n\n\nIf goodness were always the comrade of beauty I would seek a wife\nto-morrow; but as divorce between these two is no new thing, and as\nthere are so few lovely forms that enshrine lovely souls, thus uniting\nboth one and the other delight, do not take it amiss that I refrain from\nseeking such a rare combination.\n\n\nI have seen many marriages, but not one of them has held out allurements\nfor me. Nevertheless, nearly the whole four quarters of mankind\ncourageously expose themselves to this the greatest of all hazards,\nand--the whole four quarters usually repent it.\n\n\nI will tell you of one who, having repented, found that there was\nnothing for it but to send home again his quarrelsome, avaricious, and\njealous spouse. She was one whom nothing pleased; for her, nothing was\nright. For her, one rose too late; one retired too early. First it was\nthis, then it was that, and then again 'twas something else. The\nservants raged. The husband was at his wit's end. \"You think of nothing,\nsir.\" \"You spend too much.\" \"You gad about, sir.\" \"You are idle.\"\nIndeed she had so much to say that, in the end, tired of hearing such a\ntermagant, he sent her to her parents in the country. There she mixed\nwith those who minded the turkeys and pigs until she was thought to be\nsomewhat tamed, when the husband sent for her again.\n\n\"Well, my dear, how have you been getting on? How did you spend your\ntime? Did you like the simple life of the country?\"\n\n\"Oh, pretty well!\" she said, \"but what annoyed me was to see the\nlaziness of those people. They are worse there than here. They showed no\ncare whatever for the herds and flocks they were supposed to mind. I\ndidn't forget to let them know what I thought of them. Of course, they\ndidn't like it, and they all hated me in the end.\"\n\n\"Ah! my dear. If you fell foul of people whom you saw for but a moment\nor so in the day and when they returned in the evening--if you made them\ntired of you; what will the servants in this house become, who must have\nyou railing at them the whole day long? And what will your poor husband\ndo whom you expected to have near you all day and night too? Return to\nthe village, my dear. Adieu! and if during my life the idea should\npossess me to have you back again, may I, for my sins, have two such as\nyou for ever at my elbows in the world to come.\"\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\nVII\n\nTHE RAT RETIRED FROM THE WORLD\n\n(BOOK VII.--No. 3)\n\n\nThe ancients had a legend which told of a certain rat who, weary of the\nanxieties of this world, retired to a cheese, therein to live in peace.\nProfound solitude reigned around the hermit. He worked so hard with his\nfeet and his teeth that in a few days he had a spacious dwelling and\nfood in plenty. What more could he desire? He thrived well, growing\nlarge and fat. Blessings are showered upon those who are vowed to\nsimplicity and renunciation!\n\nOne day a deputation from Rat-land waited upon him, begging that out of\nhis abundance he would grant a slight dole towards fitting out a journey\nto a strange country where the rats hoped to get succour in their great\nwar against the cat-tribe. Ratopolis was besieged, and owing to the\npoverty of the beleaguered republic they were forced to start with empty\nwallets. They asked but little, believing that in a few days help would\narrive. \"My friends,\" said the hermit, \"earthly affairs no longer\nconcern me. In what way could a poor recluse assist you? What could he\ndo but pray for the help you need! My best hopes and wishes you may be\nassured of.\" With these words this latest among the saints shut his\ndoor.\n\n\nWhom have I in mind, do you think, when I speak of this rat, so sparing\nof his help? A monk?--Oh, no! A dervish rather, for a monk, I suppose,\nis at all times charitable.\n\n\n\n\nVIII\n\nTHE MAIDEN\n\n(BOOK VII.--No. 5)\n\n\nA certain damsel of considerable pride made up her mind to choose a\nhusband who should be young, well-built, and handsome; of agreeable\nmanners and--note these two points--neither cold nor jealous. Moreover,\nshe held it necessary that he should have means, high birth, intellect;\nin fact, everything. But whoever was endowed with everything?\n\nThe fates were evidently anxious to do their best for her, for they sent\nher some most noteworthy suitors. But these the proud beauty found not\nhalf good enough. \"What, men like those! You propose them for me! Why\nthey are pitiable! Look at them--fine types, indeed!\" According to her\none was a dullard; another's nose was impossible. With this it was one\nthing; with that it was another; for superior people are disdainful\nabove all things.\n\nAfter these eligible gentlemen had been dismissed, came others of less\nworth, and at these too she mocked. \"Why,\" said she, \"I would not bemean\nmyself to open the door to such. They must think me very anxious to be\nmarried. Thank Heaven my single state causes me no regrets.\"\n\nThe maiden contented herself with such notions until advancing age made\nher step down from her pedestal. Adieu then to all suitors. One year\npassed and then another. Her anxiety increased, and after anger came\ngrief. She felt that those little smiles and glances which, at the\nbidding of love, lurk in the countenances of fair maidens were day by\nday deserting her. Finally, when love himself departed, her features\ngave pleasure to none. Then she had recourse to those hundred little\nruses and tricks of the toilet to repair the ravages of time; but\nnothing that she could do arrested the depredations of that despicable\nthief. One may repair a house gone to ruin: but the same thing is not\npossible with a face!\n\nHer refined ladyship now sang to a different tune, for her mirror\nadvised her to take a husband without delay. Perhaps also her heart\nharboured the wish. Even superior persons may have longings! This one at\nlast made a choice that people would at one time have thought\nimpossible; for she was very pleased and happy in marrying an ugly\ncripple.\n\n\n\n\nIX\n\nTHE WISHES\n\n(BOOK VII.--No. 6)\n\n\nWhen the Great Mogul held empire, there were certain little sprites who\nused to undertake all sorts of tasks helpful to mankind. They would do\nhousework, stable-work, and even gardening. But if one interfered with\nthem, all would be spoilt.\n\nOne of these friendly sprites cultivated the garden of a worthy family\nliving near the Ganges. His duties were performed deftly and\nnoiselessly. He loved not only his master and mistress, but the garden\nalso. Possibly the zephyrs, who are said to be friends of the sprites,\nhelped him in his tasks. At any rate he did his very best, and never\nceased in his efforts to load his hosts with every pleasure. To prove\nhis zeal he would have stayed with these people for ever, in spite of\nthe natural propensity of his kind for waywardness. But his mischievous\nfellow-sprites fell to plotting. They induced the chief of their band to\nremove him to another field of labour. This the chief promised and,\neither by caprice or by policy, finally brought about. Orders came that\nthe devoted worker should set out for the uttermost part of Norway,\nthere to take charge of a house which at all times of the year was\ncovered with snow. So from being an Indian, the poor thing became a\nLaplander.\n\n\"I am forced to leave you,\" he said to his hosts, \"but for what fault of\nmine this has come to pass I cannot tell. I only know that go I must,\nand in a very little while too; a month perhaps, or maybe only a week.\nMake the most of the interval. Fortunately, I can fulfil three wishes\nfor you; but not more than three.\"\n\nTo mankind there is nothing very out-of-the-way in merely wishing. These\ngood people decided that their first wish should be for abundance, and\nstraightway. Abundance, by the double-handful, poured gold into their\ncoffers; wheat into their granaries; wine into their cellars. Repletion\nwas everywhere. But, alas, what cares of direction, what account\nkeeping; what time and anxiety this affluence involved!\n\nThieves plotted against them. Great lords borrowed from them. The prince\ntaxed them. They were, in fact, reduced to misery by this excess of good\nfortune. At last they could endure it no longer. \"Take back this awful\noverplus of wealth,\" they cried. \"Even the poor are happy in comparison\nwith us, and poverty is more covetable than such riches. Away, then,\nwith these treasures! And thou, sweet Moderation, mother of all peace,\nsister of repose, come to us again!\" With these words, which made their\nsecond wish, lo! Moderation returned and they received her with open\narms, once again enjoying peace.\n\nThus at the end of these two wishes they were exactly where they were in\nthe first place, and so it is with all who are given to wishing, and\nwasting in dreams the time they had better have spent in doing. But\nbeing philosophical people they laughed, and the sprite laughed with\nthem. To profit by his generosity when he had left them, they hazarded\ntheir third wish and asked for wisdom. Wisdom is a treasure which never\nembarrasses.\n\n\n\n\nX\n\nTHE DAIRY-WOMAN AND THE PAIL OF MILK\n\n(BOOK VII.--No. 10)\n\n\nA young country woman named Perrette set out one morning from her little\ndairy-farm with a pail of milk which she cleverly balanced upon her head\nover a pad or cushion. She hurried with sprightly steps to the market\ntown, and so that she might be the less encumbered, wore a kirtle that\nwas short and light--in truth a simple petticoat--and shoes low and\neasy. As she went, her thoughts ran upon the price to be gained for her\nmilk, and she schemed a way to lay out the sum in the purchase of one\nhundred eggs. She was sure that with care and diligence these would\nyield three broods. \"It would be quite easy to me,\" she said, \"to raise\nthe chicks near the house. The fox would be clever who would not leave\nme enough to buy one pig. A pig would fatten at the cost of a little\nbran, and when he had grown a fair size I should make a bargain of him\nfor a good round sum. And then, considering the price he will fetch,\nwhat is to prevent my putting into our stable a cow and a calf? I can\nfancy how the calf will frisk about among the sheep!\" Thereupon Perrette\nherself frisked for joy, transported with the picture of her affluence.\nOver toppled the milk! Adieu to calf and cow and pig and broods! This\nlady of wealth had to leave, with tearful eyes, her dissipated fortunes,\nand go straight to her husband framing excuses to avoid a beating.\n\n[Illustration: Overtoppled the milk.]\n\nThe farce became known to the whole countryside, and people called\nPerrette by the name of \"Milkpail\" ever after.\n\n\nWho has never talked wildly? Who has never built castles in Spain? Wise\nmen as well as milkmaids; sages and fools, all have waking dreams and\nfind them sweet! Our senses are carried away by some flattering\nfalsehood, and then wealth, honours, and beauty seem ours to command.\n\nAlone with my thoughts I challenge the bravest. I dethrone monarchs and\nthe people rejoicing crown me instead, showering diadems upon my head.\nThen lo! a little accident happens to bring me back to my senses, and I\nam Poor Jack as before.\n\n\n\n\nXI\n\nTHE PRIEST AND THE CORPSE\n\n(BOOK VII.--No. 11)\n\n\nThere was a funeral. The dead body was progressing sadly towards its\nlast resting place; and following rather gladly, was the priest who\nmeant to bury it as soon as possible.\n\nThe dead man, in a leaden coffin, was borne in a coach, and was properly\nshrouded in that robe the dead always wear be it summer or winter. As\nfor the priest, he sat near it, intoning as hard as he could all sorts\nof orisons, psalms, lessons, verses, and responses, in the hope that the\nmore he gave the more would be paid for. \"Leave it to me, Mr. Deadman,\"\nhis actions seemed to say. \"I'll give you a nice selection; a little of\neverything. It's only a matter of fees, you know.\" And the Rev. John\nCrow kept his eye on his silent charge as if he expected some one would\nmake off with it. \"Mr. Deadman,\" his looks proclaimed, \"by you I shall\nreceive so and so much in money, so and so much in wax candles, and,\npossibly, a little more in incidental profits.\n\nOn the strength of these calculations he promised himself a quarter-cask\nof the best wine the neighbourhood could offer. Beyond that he settled\nthat a certain very attractive niece of his, as well as his housekeeper\nPaquette, should both have new dresses.\n\nWhilst these pleasant and generous thoughts were running in his mind\nthere came a terrific shock. The car overturned. The Rev. John Crow's\nhead was broken by the coffin which fell upon him. Alas for the poor\npriest! he went to heaven with the parishioner he thought only to bury.\n\nIn reality, life over and over again is nothing but the fate of the Rev.\nJohn Crow who counted on his dead, and of Perrette who counted on her\nchickens.\n\n\n\n\nXII\n\nTHE MAN WHO RAN AFTER FORTUNE AND THE MAN WHO WAITED FOR HER IN HIS BED\n\n(BOOK VII.--No. 12)\n\n\nWho does not run after Fortune?\n\nI would I were in some spot whence I could watch the eager crowds\nrushing from kingdom to kingdom in their vain chase after the daughter\nof Chance!\n\nThey are indeed but faithful followers of a phantom; for when they think\nthey have her, lo! she is gone! Poor wretches! One must pity rather than\nblame their foolishness. \"That man,\" they say with sanguine voice,\n\"raised cabbages; and now he is Pope! Are we not as good as he?\" Ah!\nyes! a hundred times as good perhaps; but what of that? Fortune has no\neyes for all your merit. Besides, is Papacy, after all, worth peace,\nwhich one must leave behind for it? Peace--a treasure that once was the\npossession of gods alone--is seldom granted to the votaries of Dame\nFortune. Do not seek her; and then she will seek you. That is the way\nwith women!\n\n\nThere once were two friends, who lived comfortably and prospered\nmoderately in a village; but one of them was always wishing to do\nbetter. One day he said to the other, \"Suppose we left this place and\ntried our luck elsewhere? You know that a prophet is never received in\nhis own country!\"\n\n\"You try, by all means,\" returned his friend, \"but as for me, I am\ncontented where I am. I desire neither better climate nor better\npossibilities. You please yourself. Follow your unquiet spirit. You'll\nsoon return, and I shall sleep soundly enough awaiting you.\"\n\nSo the man of ambition, or the money-grubber, whichever you like to call\nhim, took to the road, and arrived next day at a place where, if\nanywhere, Dame Fortune should be found, namely, the court. He stayed at\ncourt for some long time, never missing an opportunity to put himself in\nthe way of favours. He was in evidence when the king went to bed, when\nhe arose, and on all other propitious occasions.\n\n\"What's amiss?\" he said at last. \"Fortune, I am convinced, dwells here;\nfor I have seen her the guest now of this one and now of that one. How\nis it that I cannot entertain the capricious creature? I must try her\nelsewhere. I have already been told that the people of this place are\nexceedingly ambitious. Evidently there is no room for me here. So,\nadieu! gentleman of the court, and follow to the bitter end this\nwill-o'-the-wisp! They tell me that Dame Fortune has temples in Surat.\nVery well! We will go there.\"\n\nHe embarked at once. What hearts of bronze have humankind! The man who\nfirst attempted this awful route and defied its terrors must have had a\nheart of adamant. Often did our traveller turn his eyes towards his\nlittle home as first pirates, then contrary winds, then calms, then\nrocks--all agents of death--in turn assailed him. Strange it is that men\nshould take such pains to meet death, since it will come only too\nquickly to them in their homes!\n\nOur adventurer arrived in India. There they told him that Japan was the\nplace where Fortune dispensed her favours. He hurried there. The sea\nwearied of carrying him about. In the end all the profit his long\nvoyages brought him was the lesson which he learnt from savages, and\nthat was: \"Stop in your own country and let Nature instruct you.\" Japan,\nIndia, or anywhere else; no one place was better than another as a\nhunting ground for Fortune; so the conclusion was forced upon him that\nhe had been wiser had he stayed in his own village. At last he renounced\nall these ungrateful wanderings and returned to his own country; and as\nhe caught sight of his homestead from afar he wept for joy, and cried:\n\"Happy is the man who, staying in his home, finds constant occupation in\nadjusting his desires to his surroundings. To him the court, the sea,\nand the land of Fortune are but hearsay. Thou, fickle Dame, flaunting\nbefore our eyes dignities and wealth, dost cause us to follow after\nthese allurements to the ends of the earth, only to find them empty\nshams. Henceforth I wander no more, for here at home a hundred times\nmore success shall I find.\"\n\nHaving registered this vow against Fortune the wanderer came to the door\nof his friend, and lo! there sat Fortune, waiting on the threshold,\nwhilst his friend slumbered within.\n\n\n\n\nXIII\n\nAN ANIMAL IN THE MOON\n\n(BOOK VII.--No. 18)\n\n\nWhilst one philosopher tells us that men are constantly the dupes of\ntheir own senses, another will swear that the senses never deceive. Both\nare right. Philosophy truly affirms that the senses will deceive so long\nas men are content to take upon trust the evidence the senses bring. But\nif this evidence is weighed, measured, and tested by every available\nresource of science the senses can deceive no one.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nIn England, not long ago, when a large telescope was levelled to observe\nthe moon, the observer was astounded to see what he took to be some new\nanimal in this lovely planet. Everybody was excited about the marvellous\nappearance. Something had occurred up above there which, without doubt,\nmust betoken great changes of some sort. Who could tell but that all the\ndreadful wars that were then convulsing Europe had not been caused by\nit? The king, who patronised the sciences, hastened to the observatory\nto see the sight, and see it he did. There was the monster right\nenough!\n\nAnd what was it after all?--Nothing but a poor little mouse that had by\nsome unlucky chance got in between the lenses of the telescope. Here was\nthe cause of all the devastating wars! Everybody laughed....\n\n\n\n\nXIV\n\nTHE FORTUNE-TELLERS\n\n(BOOK VII.--No. 15)\n\n\nReputations may be made by the merest chances, and yet reputations\ncontrol the fashions. That is a little prologue that would fit the case\nof all sorts of people. Everywhere around one sees prejudices, scheming,\nand obtuseness; but little or no justice. Nothing can be done to stem\nthis torrent of evil. It must run its course. It always has been and\nalways will be.\n\n\nA woman in Paris once made it her profession to tell fortunes. She\nbecame very popular and had great success. Did anybody lose a bit of\nfinery; had any one a sweetheart; had any wife a husband she was tired\nof; any husband a jealous wife, to the prophetess such would run simply\nto be told the thing that it was comforting to hear.\n\nThe stock-in-trade of this fortune-teller consisted merely of a\nconvincing manner, a few words of scientific jargon, a great deal of\nimpudence, and much good luck. All these things together so impressed\nthe people that as often as not they would cry, \"Miraculous!\" In short,\nalthough the woman's ignorance was quite twenty-three carat she passed\nfor a veritable oracle.\n\nNotwithstanding the fact that this oracle only lived in a garret, she\nfound so many ready to pay her well for her shams that she soon grew\nrich enough to improve the position of her husband, to rent an office,\nand buy a house.\n\nThe garret being left empty was shortly tenanted by another woman to\nwhom all the town--women, girls, valets, fine gentlemen--everybody in\nfact swarmed, as before, to consult their destiny. The former tenant had\nbuilt up such a reputation that the garret was still a sibyl's den, in\nspite of the fact that quite a different creature dwelt in it. \"I tell\nfortunes? Surely you're joking! Why, gentlemen, I cannot read, and as\nfor writing, I never learnt more than to make my mark.\" But these\ndisclaimers were useless. People insisted on having their fortunes told,\nand she had to do it. In consequence, she put by plenty of money, being\nable to earn, in spite of herself, quite as much as two lawyers could.\nThe poverty of her home was a help rather than a hindrance. Four broken\nchairs and a broom-handle savoured of a witch's frolic.\n\nIf this woman had told the truth in a room well-furnished she would have\nbeen scorned. The fashion for a garret had set in, and garret it must\nbe.\n\nIn her new chambers the first fortune-teller waited in vain; for it was\nthe outward sign alone that brought customers, and the sign was poverty.\n\n\nI have seen in a palace a robe worn awry win much distinction and\nsuccess, such crowds of followers and adherents did it draw. You may\nwell ask me why!\n\n[Illustration: The garret was still a sybil's den.]\n\n\n\n\nXV\n\nTHE COBBLER AND THE FINANCIER\n\n(BOOK VIII.--No. 2)\n\n\nThere was once a cobbler who was so light hearted that he sang from\nmorning to night. It was wonderful to watch him at his work, and more\nwonderful still to hear his runs and trills. He was in fact happier than\nthe Seven Sages.\n\nThis merry soul had a neighbour who was exactly the reverse. He sang\nlittle and slept less; for he was a financier, and made of money, as\nthey say. Whenever it happened that after a sleepless night he would\ndoze off in the early morning, the cobbler, who was always up betimes,\nwould wake him up again with his joyful songs. \"Ha!\" thought the man of\nwealth, \"what a misfortune it is that one cannot buy sleep in the open\nmarket as one buys food and drink!\" Then an idea came to him. He\ninvited the cobbler to his house, where he asked him some questions.\n\n\"Tell me, Master Gregory, what do you suppose your earnings amount to in\na year?\"\n\n\"In a year,\" laughed the cobbler, \"that's more than I know. I never keep\naccounts that way, nor even keep one day from another. So long as I can\nmake both ends meet, that's good enough for me!\"\n\n\"Really!\" replied the financier. \"But what can you earn in one day?\"\n\n\"Oh, sometimes more and sometimes less. The mischief of it is that there\nare so many fete days and high-days and fast-days crowded into the year,\non which, as the priest tells us, it is wicked to work at all; and worse\nstill he keeps on finding some new saint or other to give weight to his\nsermons. If it were not for that, cobbling would be a fine paying game.\"\n\nAt this the wealthy man laughed. \"Look here, my friend, to-day I'll lift\nyou to the seats of the mighty! Here is a hundred pounds. Guard them and\nuse them with care.\"\n\nWhen the cobbler held the bag of money in his hand he imagined that it\nmust be as much as would be coined in a hundred years.\n\nReturning home he buried the cash in his cellar. Alas! he buried his joy\nwith it, for there were no more songs. From the moment he came into\npossession of this wealth, the love of which is the root of all evil,\nhis voice left him, and not only his voice, but his sleep also. And in\nplace of these came anxiety, suspicion, and alarms; guests which abode\nwith him constantly. All day he kept his eye on the cellar door. Did a\ncat make a noise in the night, then for a certainty that cat was after\nhis money.\n\nAt last, in despair, the wretched cobbler ran to the financier whom he\nnow no longer kept awake. \"Oh, give me back my joy in life, my songs, my\nsleep; and take your hundred pounds again.\"\n\n\n\n\nXVI\n\nTHE POWER OF FABLE\n\n(BOOK VIII.--No. 4)\n\n\nIn the old, vain, and fickle city of Athens, an orator,[2] seeing how\nthe light-hearted citizens were blind to certain dangers which\nthreatened the state, presented himself before the tribune, and there\nsought, by the very tyranny of his forceful eloquence, to move the heart\nof the republic towards a sense of the common welfare.\n\nBut the people neither heard nor heeded. Then the orator had recourse to\nmore urgent arguments and stronger metaphors, potent enough to touch\nhearts of stone. He spoke in thunders that might have raised the dead;\nbut his words were carried away on the wind. The beast of many heads[3]\ndid not deign to hear the launching of these thunderbolts. It was\nengrossed in something quite different. A fight between two urchins was\nwhat the crowd found so engaging; not the orator's warnings.\n\nWhat then did the speaker do? He tried another plan. \"Ceres,\" he began,\n\"made a voyage one day with an eel and a swallow. After a time the\nthree travellers were stopped by a river. This the eel got over by\nswimming and the swallow by flying----\"\n\n\"Well! what about Ceres? What did she do?\" cried the crowd with one\nvoice.\n\n\"She did what she did!\" retorted the speaker in anger. \"But first she\nraged against you. What! Does it take a child's story to open your ears,\nyou who should be eager for any news of the peril that menaces; you, the\nonly state in Greece that takes no heed? You ask what Ceres did. Why do\nyou not ask what Philip[4] does?\"\n\nAt this reproach the assembly was stirred. A mere fable brought them\nopen-eared to all the orator would say.\n\n\nWe are all Athenians in this respect. I myself am, even as I point this\nmoral. I should take the utmost pleasure now in hearing \"The Ass's\nSkin\"[5] told to me. The world is old, they say: so it is; but,\nnevertheless, it is as greedy of amusement as a child.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[Footnote 2: Elizur Wright explains that the orator was Demades.]\n\n[Footnote 3: Horace spoke of the Roman people as a beast with many\nheads.]\n\n[Footnote 4: Philip of Macedon, who was at war against the Greeks.]\n\n[Footnote 5: An old French nursery tale.]\n\n\n\n\nXVII\n\nTHE DOG WHO CARRIED HIS MASTER'S DINNER\n\n(BOOK VIII.--No. 7)\n\n\nOur hands are no more proof against gold than our eyes are proof against\nbeauty. There are but few who guard their treasures with care enough.\n\n\nA certain dog who had been taught to carry to his master the mid-day\nmeal was one day trotting along with the savoury burden slung around his\nneck. He was tempted to take a taste himself; but knew that it would be\nwrong to do so, and being a temperate, self-governed dog he refrained.\nWe of the human race allow ourselves to be tempted by covetable things\noften enough; but, strange as it is, there seems to be more difficulty\nin teaching mankind to resist temptation than there is in teaching dogs\nto do so.\n\nOn this particular day the dog was met by a mastiff who at once wanted\nthe dinner, but did not find it so easy to capture as he thought; for\nour dog put it down and stood guard over it. There was a mighty tussle.\nSoon others arrived; curs that were used to knocks and kicks while\npicking up a living in the streets. Seeing that he should be badly\nover-matched, and that his master's dinner was in danger of being\ndevoured by the crowd, he bethought himself how he too might have his\nshare, if shared it must be. So he very wisely exclaimed, \"No fighting,\ngentlemen, my bit will suffice me. Do as you please with the rest.\" With\nthese words he snapped up a portion, upon which all the rest began to\npull and jostle to their utmost and feasted merrily.\n\n\nIn this I seem to see the picture of one of those unfortunate towns or\nstates which occasionally have suffered from the greed of their\nministers and officials. Each functionary has an eye to his own\nadvantage, and the smartest sets a pattern for the others. The way in\nwhich the public funds disappear is amusing. If one sheriff or provost,\nhaving a scruple of conscience, finds a trifling argument in defence of\nthe public interest the others show him that he is a fool if he utters\nhalf a word. So, with a very little trouble, he gives way, and often\nbecomes the leading offender.\n\n\n\n\nXVIII\n\nTHYRSIS AND AMARANTH\n\n(BOOK VIII.--No. 13)\n\n\nA shepherd who was deeply in love with a shepherdess was sitting one day\nby her side trying to find words to express the emotions her charms\ncreated in his breast.\n\n\"Ah! Amaranth, dear,\" he sighed, \"could you but feel, as I do, a certain\npain which, whilst it tears the heart, is so delightful that it\nenchants, you would say that nothing under heaven is its equal. Let me\ntell you of it. Believe me, trust me. Would I deceive you? You, for whom\nI am filled with the tenderest sentiments the heart can feel!\"\n\n\"And what, my Thyrsis, is the name you give this pleasing pain?\"\n\n\"It is called love,\" said Thyrsis.\n\n\"Ah!\" responded the maiden, \"that is a beautiful name. Tell me by what\nsigns I may know it, if it come to me. What are the feelings it gives\none?\"\n\nThyrsis, taking heart of grace, replied with much ardour: \"One feels an\nanguish beside which the joys of kings are but dull and insipid. One\nforgets oneself, and takes pleasure in the solitudes of the woods. To\nglance into a brook is to see, not oneself, but an ever-haunting image.\nTo any other form one's eyes are blind. It may be that there is a\nshepherd in the village at whose voice, at the mention of whose name,\nyou will blush; at the thought of whom you will sigh. Why, one knows\nnot! To see him will be a burning desire, and yet you would shrink from\nhim.\"\n\n\"Oho!\" said Amaranth. \"Is this then the pain you have preached so much!\nIt is hardly new to me. I seem to know something of it.\" The heart of\nThyrsis leapt, for he thought that at last he had gained his end; when\nthe fair one added, \"'Tis just in this way that I feel for Cladimant!\"\n\nImagine the vexation and misery of poor Thyrsis!\n\n\nHow many like him, intending to work solely for themselves, prove only\nto have been stepping stones for others.\n\n\n\n\nXIX\n\nTHE RAT AND THE ELEPHANT\n\n(BOOK VIII.--No. 15)\n\n\nAn uncommonly small rat was watching an uncommonly big elephant and\nsneering at the slowness of his steps.\n\nThe enormous animal was heavily laden. On his back rose a three-storied\nhowdah, wherein were accommodated a celebrated sultana, her dog, her\ncat, her monkey, her parrot, her old servant, and all her household.\nThey were going upon a pilgrimage.\n\nThe rat wondered why all the people should express astonishment at\nseeing this enormous bulk--\"As if the fact of occupying more or less\nspace implied that one was the more or less important accordingly! What\nis it you admire in him, you men? If it is only the weight of his body\nwhich fills the children with terror, then we rats, small as we are,\nconsider ourselves not one grain less than the elephant.\" He would have\nsaid more; but the cat, bounding out of her cage, let him see in an\ninstant that a rat is not an elephant.\n\n\n\n\nXX\n\nTHE HOROSCOPE\n\n(BOOK VIII.--No. 16)\n\n\nOur destiny is frequently met in the very paths we take to avoid it.\n\n\nA father had an only son whom he loved excessively. His devoted\naffection caused him to be so anxious as to the boy's welfare that he\nsought to learn from astrologers and fortune-tellers what fate was in\nstore for the son and heir. One of these soothsayers told him that an\nespecial danger lay with lions, from which the youth must be guarded\nuntil the age of twenty was reached, but not after. The father, to make\nsure of this precaution, upon the issue of which depended the life of\nhis loved one, commanded that by no chance should the boy ever be\npermitted to go beyond the threshold of the house. Ample provision was\nmade for the satisfaction of all the wishes proper to youth in the way\nof play with his companions, jumping, running, walking, and so forth. As\nthe age approached when the spirits of youth yearn for the chase, he was\ntaught to hold that sport in abhorrence.\n\nBut temperament cannot be changed by persuasion and counsel, nor by\nenlightenment. The young man, eager, ardent, and full of courage, no\nsooner felt the promptings of his years than he sighed for the\nforbidden pleasures. The greater the hindrance the stronger the desire.\nKnowing the reason of his galling restrictions, and viewing day by day\nin his palatial home the hunting scenes pictured in paint and tapestry\non every wall, his excitement became unrestrained.\n\nOnce his eye fell upon a pictured lion. \"Ah! Monster!\" he exclaimed in a\ntransport of indignation. \"It is to you that the shade and fetters in\nwhich I live are due!\" With that he struck the lion's form a heavy blow\nwith his fist. Hidden under the tapestry a great nail offered its cruel\npoint, and upon this his hand was impaled. The wound grew beyond the\nreach of medical skill, and in the end this life, so guarded and\ncherished, was lost by means of the very care taken to preserve it.\n\n\nThe same jealous precaution proved fatal to the poet AEschylus. It is\nsaid that some fortune-teller menaced him with the fall of a house as\nhis doom, upon which he at once left the town and made his bed in the\nopen fields, far from roofs and beneath the sky. But an eagle flew by\noverhead carrying in its talons a tortoise, and seeing the bald head of\nthe poet beneath, which it mistook for a stone, the bird let fall its\nprey in order to break the shell of the tortoise. Thus were the days of\npoor AEschylus ended.\n\n\nFrom these two examples it would seem that this art of fortune-telling,\nif there be any truth in it, causes one to fall into the very evil one\nwould be in dread of when one consulted it. But I will demonstrate and\nmaintain that the art is false. I do not believe that Nature would have\ntied her own hands, and ours also, to the extent of marking our fate in\nthe heavens. For our fate depends upon certain combinations of time,\nplace, and people; not upon the combinations of charlatans. A shepherd\nand a king are born under the same planet: one carries the sceptre; the\nother the crook. The planet Jupiter willed it so! But what is this\nplanet Jupiter? A body without senses. Whence comes it then that its\ninfluence works so differently on these two men? Further, how could its\ninfluence, if it had any, penetrate through endless voids to our world?\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nDo not attach too much importance to the two instances I have related.\nThis beloved son and the good man AEschylus are beside the mark.\n\nNevertheless, however blind and lying is the fortuneteller's art, it may\nyet hit home once in a thousand times. That is just a matter of chance.\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\nXXI\n\nJUPITER AND THE THUNDERBOLTS\n\n(BOOK VIII--No. 20)\n\n\nOne day, as Jupiter seated on high looked down upon the world, he was\nincensed at the faults committed by mankind. \"Let us,\" he said, \"have\nsome other occupants in the regions of the universe in place of these\npresent inhabitants who importune and weary me. Go you to Hades,\nMercury, and bring hither the cruellest of the furies. This time, O race\nthat I have too tenderly nurtured, you shall perish.\"\n\nAfter this outburst the temper of the god began to cool.\n\n\nO ye sovereigns of this world, to whom it has been given to be the\narbiters of our destinies, let a night intervene between your wrath and\nthe storm which follow!\n\n\nMercury, light of wing and sweet of tongue, descended to the abode of\nthe dread sisters Tisiphone, Megaera, and Alecto, and his choice fell\nupon the latter, the pitiless one. She, feeling proud of the preference,\ngrew so arrogant as to swear by Pluto that the whole of the human brood\nshould soon people his domains. But Jupiter did not approve of the vow\nthis member of the Eumenides had sworn, and he sent her back to Hades.\nAt the same time he launched a thunderbolt upon one particularly\nperfidious race of men. This, however, being hurled by a father's arm,\nmercifully fell in a desert, causing less ruin than alarm. What followed\nfrom this was simply that the wicked brood took heart at such indulgence\nand did not trouble to mend their ways. Then all the gods in Olympus\ncomplained, until he who controls the clouds swore by the Styx that\nfurther storms should be sent and that they should not fail as the other\nhad.\n\nThe Olympians only smiled at this. They told Jupiter that as he was the\nfather it would be better if he left in other hands the making of\nthunderbolts. Vulcan undertook the task. Soon his furnaces glowed with\nbolts of two kinds; one that hits its mark with a deadly unerring--and\nthat is the sort which any of the Olympian gods will hurl; whilst the\nother sort was that which becomes scattered on its course and does\ndamage only to the mountain tops, or perchance is even lost on the way.\nIt is this kind of thunderbolt that Jupiter sends. His fatherly heart\npermits him to use no other.\n\n\n\n\nXXII\n\nEDUCATION\n\n(BOOK VIII.--No. 24)\n\n\nOnce upon a time there were two dogs, one named Lurcher and the other\nCaesar. They were brothers; handsome, well-built, and plucky, and\ndescended from dogs who were famous in their day. These two brothers,\nfalling into the hands of different masters, found their destinies\nlikewise in different spheres; for whilst one haunted the forests, the\nother lurched about a kitchen.\n\nThe names to which they now answered were not, however, the names that\nwere first given them. The influence of each one's career upon his\nnature brought about a new name and a new reputation; for Caesar's nature\nwas improved and strengthened by the life he led, whilst Lurcher's was\nmade more and more despicable by a degraded existence. A scullion named\nhim Lurcher; but the other dog received his noble name on account of his\nlife of high adventure. He had held many a stag at bay, killed many a\nhare, and otherwise risen to the position of a Caesar among dogs. Care\nwas taken that he should not mate indiscriminately, so that his\ndescendants' blood should not degenerate. On the other hand, poor\nLurcher bestowed his affections wherever he would and his brood became\npopulous. He was the progenitor of all turn-spits in France; a variety\nwhich became common enough to form at last a race in themselves. They\nshow more readiness to flee than to attack, and are the very antipodes\nof the Caesars.\n\n\nWe do not always follow our ancestors, nor even resemble our fathers.\nWant of care, the flight of time, a thousand things, cause us to\ndegenerate.\n\nAh! how many, Caesars, failing to cultivate their best nature and their\ngifts, become Lurchers!\n\n\n\n\nXXIII\n\nDEMOCRITUS AND THE PEOPLE OF ABDERA\n\n(BOOK VIII.--No. 26)\n\n\nHow I have always hated the opinions of the mob! To me, a mob seems\nprofane, unjust, and rash, putting false construction on all things, and\njudging every matter by a mob-made standard.\n\nDemocritus had experience of this. His countrymen thought him mad.\nLittle minds! But then, no one is a prophet in his own country! The\npeople themselves were mad, of course, and Democritus was the wise man.\nNevertheless the error went so far that the city of Abdera[6] sent a\nmessenger to the great physician Hippocrates, requesting him both by\nletter and by spoken word to come and restore the sage's reason.\n\n\"Our citizen,\" said the spokesman with tears in his eyes, \"has lost his\nwits, alas! Study has corrupted Democritus. If he were less wise we\nshould esteem him much more. He will have it that there is no limit to\nthe number of worlds like ours and that possibly they are inhabited with\nnumberless Democrituses. Not satisfied with these wild dreams, he talks\nalso of atoms--phantoms born only in his own empty brain. Then,\nmeasuring the very heavens, though he remains here below to do it, he\nclaims to know the universe; yet admits that he does not know himself.\nTime was when he could control debates, now he mutters only to himself.\nSo come, thou divine mortal, for the patient's case is a bad one.\"\n\nHippocrates, though he had little faith in these people, went\nnevertheless. Now mark, I beg of you, what strange meetings fate may\nbring about in this life! Hippocrates arrived just at the time when this\nman, who was supposed to have neither sense nor reason, happened to be\nsearching into a question as to whether this very reason was seated in\nthe heart or in the head of men and beasts.\n\nSitting in leafy shade, beside a brook, and with many a volume at his\nfeet, he was occupied wholly with a study of the convolutions of the\nbrain; and thus absorbed, as his manner was, he scarcely noticed the\nadvance of his friend the learned physician. Their greeting was soon\nover as you may imagine, for the sage is at all times chary of time and\nspeech. So having put aside mere trifles of conversation, they reasoned\nupon man and his mind, and next fell to talking upon ethics.\n\nIt is not necessary that I should here enlarge upon what each had to say\nto the other on these matters.\n\nThe little tale suffices to show that we may rightly take exception to\nthe judgments of the mob. That being so, in what sense is it true, as I\nhave read in a certain passage, that the voice of the people is the\nvoice of God?\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[Footnote 6: A city on the shores of Thracia.]\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\nXXIV\n\nTHE ACORN AND THE PUMPKIN\n\n(BOOK IX.--No. 4)\n\n\nWhat God does is done well. Without going round the world to seek a\nproof of that, I can find one in the pumpkin.\n\nA villager was once struck with the largeness of a pumpkin and the\nthinness of the stem upon which it grew. \"What could the Almighty have\nbeen thinking about?\" he cried. \"He has certainly chosen a bad place for\na pumpkin to grow. Eh zounds! Now I would have hung it on one of these\noaks. That would have been just as it should be. Like fruit, like tree!\nWhat a pity, Hodge,\" said he, addressing himself, \"that you were not on\nthe spot to give advice at the Creation which the parson preaches\nabout. Everything would have been properly done then. For instance;\nwouldn't this acorn, no bigger than my little finger, be better hanging\non this frail stem? The Almighty has blundered there surely! The more I\nthink about these fruits and their situations, the more it seems to me\nthat it is all a mistake.\"\n\nBecoming worried by so much reflection our Hodge cast himself under an\noak saying, \"A man can't sleep when he has so much brain.\" Then he at\nonce dropped off into a nap.\n\nPresently an acorn fell plump upon his nose. Starting from sleep, he put\nhis hand up to see what had happened and found the acorn caught in his\nbeard, whilst his nose began to pain and bleed. \"Oh, oh!\" he cried, \"I\nam bleeding. How would it have been if a heavier mass than this had\nfallen from the tree: if this acorn had been a pumpkin? The Almighty did\nnot intend that, I see. Doubtless he was right. I understand the reason\nwhy perfectly now.\"\n\nSo praising God for all things Hodge took his way home.\n\n\n\n\nXXV\n\nTHE SCHOOLBOY, THE PEDANT, AND THE OWNER OF A GARDEN\n\n(BOOK IX.--No. 5)\n\n\nA youngster, who was doubly foolish and doubly a rogue--in which perhaps\nhe savoured of the school he went to--was given, they say, to robbing a\nneighbour's garden of its fruit and flowers. This may have been because\nhe was too young to know better, and perhaps because teachers do not\nalways mould the minds of young people in the right way.\n\nThe owner of the garden boasted in each season the very best of what was\ndue. In spring he could show the most delightful blossoms and in autumn\nthe very pick of all the apples.\n\nOne day he espied this schoolboy carelessly climbing a fruit tree and\nknocking off the buds, those sweet and fragile forerunners of promised\nfruit in abundance. The urchin even broke off a bough, and did so much\nother damage that the owner sent a message of complaint to the boy's\nschoolmaster. This worthy soon appeared, and behind him a tribe of the\nscholars, who swarmed into the orchard and began behaving worse than the\nfirst one. The schoolmaster's plan in thus aggravating the injury was\nreally to make an opportunity for delivering them all a good lesson,\nwhich they should remember all their lives. He quoted Virgil and\nCicero; he made many scientific allusions and ran his discourse to such\na length that the little wretches were able to get all over the garden\nand despoil it in a hundred places.\n\n\nI hate pompous and pedantic speeches that are out of place and\nnever-ending; and I do not know a worse fool in the world than a naughty\nschoolboy--unless indeed it be the schoolmaster of such a boy. The\nbetter of them would never suit me as a neighbour.\n\n\n\n\nXXVI\n\nTHE SCULPTOR AND THE STATUE OF JUPITER\n\n(BOOK IX.--No. 6)\n\n\nOnce a sculptor who saw for sale a block of marble was so struck with\nits beauty that he could not resist the temptation to buy it. When it\nwas in his studio he thought to himself, \"Now what shall my chisel make\nof it? Shall it be a god, a table, or a basin? It shall be a god. And I,\nmyself, shall ordain that the god shall poise a thunderbolt in his hand.\nSo tremble, mortals, and worship! Behold the lord of the earth!\"\n\nThe artist set to work and expressed so powerfully the attributes of the\ngod that those who saw it averred that it only lacked speech to be\nJupiter himself. It is said that the sculptor had scarcely completed the\nstatue when he became so overawed as to fear and tremble before the work\nof his own hands.\n\nThe poet of old, likewise, greatly dreaded the hate and the wrath of the\ngods he himself created: a weakness which left little to choose between\nhim and the sculptor.\n\n\nThese traits are those of childhood. The minds of children are always\nanxious lest any one should maltreat their dolls. The emotions\ninvariably give the lead to the intellect, and this fact accounts for\nthe great error of paganism. For that error has been prompted by the\nemotions of men in all the peoples of the earth. Men uphold with fanatic\nzeal the interests of the unreal creatures of their imagination.\nPygmalion became enamoured of the Venus[7] he had created, and in the\nsame way every one tries to turn his dreams into reality. Man remains as\nice before truth, but catches fire before illusion.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[Footnote 7: La Fontaine forgets. It was Galatea whose image Pygmalion\ncreated and whom Venus brought to life.]\n\n\n\n\nXXVII\n\nTHE OYSTER AND THE PLEADERS\n\n(BOOK IX.--No. 9)\n\n\nOne day two pilgrims espied upon the sands of the shore an oyster that\nhad been thrown up by the tide. They devoured it with their eyes whilst\npointing at it with their fingers; but whose teeth should deal with it\nwas a matter of dispute.\n\nWhen one stopped to pick up the prey the other pushed him away saying:\n\"It would be just as well first to decide which of us is to have the\npleasure of it. He who first saw it should swallow it, and let the other\nwatch him eat.\"\n\n\"If you settle the affair that way,\" replied his companion, \"I have good\neyes, thank God.\"\n\n\"But my sight is not bad either,\" said the other, \"and I saw it before\nyou did, and that I'll stake my life upon.\"\n\n\"Well, suppose you did see it, I smelt it.\"\n\nDuring this lively interlude Justice Nincompoop arrived on the scene,\nand to him they appealed to judge their claims. The justice very gravely\ntook the oyster, opened it, and put it into his mouth, whilst the two\nclaimants looked on. Having deliberately swallowed the oyster, the\njustice, in the portentous tones of a Lord Chief Justice, said, \"The\ncourt here awards each of you a shell, without costs. Let each go home\npeaceably.\"\n\n\nReckon what it costs to go to law in these days. Then count what remains\nto most families. You will see that Justice Nincompoop draws all the\nmoney and leaves only the empty purse and the shells to the litigants.\n\n[Illustration: Deliberately swallowed the oyster.]\n\n\n\n\nXXVIII\n\nTHE CAT AND THE FOX\n\n(BOOK IX.--No. 14)\n\n\nThe cat and the fox, in the manner of good little saints, started out\nupon a pilgrimage. They were both humbugs, arch-hypocrites, two\ndownright highwaymen, who for the expenses of their journey indemnified\nthemselves by seeing who could devour the most fowls and gobble the most\ncheese.\n\nThe way was long and therefore wearisome, so they shortened it by\narguing. Argumentation is a great help. Without it one would go to\nsleep. Our pilgrims shouted themselves hoarse. Then having argued\nthemselves out, they talked of other things.\n\nAt length the fox said to the cat, \"You pretend that you're very clever.\nDo you know as much as I? I have a hundred ruses up my sleeve.\"\n\n\"No,\" answered the cat, \"I have but one; but that is always ready to\nhand, and I maintain that it is worth a thousand other dodges.\"\n\nThen they fell again to disputing one against the other on each side of\nthe question, the whys and the wherefores, raising their voices higher\nand higher. Presently the sudden appearance of a pack of hounds stopped\ntheir noise.\n\nThe cat said to the fox, \"Now, my friend, ransack that cunning brain of\nyours for one of your thousand ruses. Fetch down from your sleeve one of\nthose certain stratagems. As for me, this is my dodge.\" So saying, he\nbounded to a tall tree and climbed to its top with alacrity.\n\nThe fox tried a hundred futile doublings; ran into a hundred holes; put\nthe hounds at fault a hundred times; tried everywhere to find a safe\nplace of retreat, but everywhere failed between being smoked out of one\nand driven out of another by the hounds. Finally, as he came out of a\nhole two nimble dogs set upon him and strangled him at the first grip.\n\n\nToo many expedients may spoil the business. One loses time in choosing\nbetween them and in trying too many. Have only one; but let it be a good\none.\n\n\n\n\nXXIX\n\nTHE MONKEY AND THE CAT\n\n(BOOK IX.--No. 17)\n\n\nBertrand was a monkey and Ratter was a cat. They shared the same\ndwelling and had the same master, and a pretty mischievous pair they\nwere. It was impossible to intimidate them. If anything was missed or\nspoilt, no one thought of blaming the other people in the house.\nBertrand stole all he could lay his hands upon, and as for Ratter, he\ngave more attention to cheese than he did to the mice.\n\nOne day, in the chimney corner, these two rascals sat watching some\nchestnuts that were roasting before the fire. How jolly it would be to\nsteal them they thought: doubly desirable, for it would not only be joy\nto themselves, but an annoyance to others.\n\n\"Brother,\" said Bertrand to Ratter, \"this day you shall achieve your\nmaster-stroke: you shall snatch some chestnuts out of the fire for me.\nProvidence has not fitted me for that sort of game. If it had, I assure\nyou chestnuts would have a fine time.\"\n\nNo sooner said than done. Ratter delicately stirred the cinders with his\npaw, stretched out his claws two or three times to prepare for the\nstroke, and then adroitly whipped out first one, then two, then three of\nthe chestnuts, whilst Bertrand crunched them up between his teeth. In\ncame a servant, and there was an end of the business. Farewell, ye\nrogues!\n\nI am told that Ratter was by no means satisfied with the affair.\n\n\nAnd princes are equally dissatisfied when, flattered to be employed in\nany uncomfortable concern, they burn their fingers in a distant province\nfor the profit of some king.\n\n\n\n\nXXX\n\nTHE TWO RATS, THE FOX, AND THE EGG[8]\n\n(BOOK X.--No. 1)\n\n\nDo not take it ill if, in these fables, I mingle a little of the bold,\ndaring, and fine-spun philosophy that is called new.\n\nThey say that the lower animals are mere machines: that everything they\ndo is prompted, not by choice, but by mechanism, coming about as it were\nby springs. There is, they say, neither feeling nor soul--nothing but a\nmechanical body. It goes just as a watch or clock goes, plodding on with\neven motion, blindly and aimlessly.\n\nOpen such a machine and examine it; what do we find? Wheels take the\nplace of intelligence. The first wheel moves the second, and that in\nturn moves a third, with the result that, in due time, it strikes the\nhour.\n\nAccording to these new philosophers, that is exactly the case with an\nanimal. It receives a blow in a certain spot, this spot conveys the\nsensation to another spot, and so the message goes on from place to\nplace until the brain receives it and the impression is made. That is\nall very well, but how is the impression made?\n\nIt is necessarily made, without passion, without will, say these\nphilosophers. They tell us that the common idea is that an animal is\nactuated by emotions which we know as sorrow, joy, love, pleasure, pain,\ncruelty, or some other of these states; but that it is not so. Do not\ndeceive yourself, they say.\n\n\"What is it then?\" I ask. A watch, indeed! And pray what of ourselves?\n\nAh, well! that is perhaps another thing altogether. This is the way\nDescartes expounds the theory--Descartes, that mortal who, if he had\nlived in pagan times, would have been made a god, and who holds a place\nbetween man and the higher spirits, just as some I could name--beasts of\nburden with long ears--hold a place between man and the oysters. Thus, I\nsay, reasons this author: \"I have a gift beyond any possessed by others\nof God's creatures, and that is the gift of thought. I know of what I\nthink.\"\n\nBut from positive science we know that although animals may think, they\ncannot reflect upon what they think. Descartes goes further and boldly\nstates that they do not think at all. That is a statement which need not\nworry us.\n\nNevertheless, when in the woods the blast of a horn and the baying of\nhounds agitates the fleeing quarry; when he vainly endeavours, with all\nhis skill, to confuse and muddle the scent which betrays him to his\npursuers; when, an aged beast with full-grown antlers, he puts in his\nplace a younger stag and forces it to carry on the chase with its\nfresher bait of the scent of its younger body, and thus carry off the\nhounds and preserve his days--then surely this beast has reasoned. All\nthe twisting and turning, all the malice, deception, and the hundred\nstratagems to save his life are worthy of the greatest chiefs of war;\nand worthy of a better fate than death by being torn to pieces; for that\nis the supreme honour of the stag.\n\n\nAgain; when the partridge sees its young in danger, before their wings\nhave strength enough to bear them away from death, she makes a pretence\nof being wounded and flutters along with a trailing wing, enticing the\nhuntsman and his dogs to follow her, and thus by turning away the danger\nsaves her little ones. And when the huntsman believes that his dog has\nseized her, lo! she rises, laughs at the sportsman, wishes him farewell,\nand leaves him confused and watching her flight with his eyes.\n\nNot far from the northern regions there is a country where life goes on\nas in the early ages, the inhabitants being profoundly ignorant. I speak\nnow of the human creatures. The animals are indeed surprisingly\nenlightened; for they can construct works which stop the ravages of\nswollen torrents and make communication possible from bank to bank. The\nstructures are safe and lasting, being founded upon wood over which is\nlaid a bed of mortar. The beavers are the engineers. Each one works. The\ntask is common to all, and the old ones see that the young ones do not\nshirk their labour. There are many taskmasters directing and urging.\n\nTo such a colony of cunning amphibians the republic of Plato itself\nwould be but an apprentice affair. The beavers erect their houses for\nthe winter time, and make bridges of marvellous construction for passing\nover the ponds; whilst the human folk who live there, though this\nwonderful work is always before their eyes, can but cross the water by\nswimming.\n\n\nThat these beavers are nothing but bodies without minds nothing will\nmake me believe. But here is something better still. Listen to this\nrecital which I had from a king great in fame and glory. This king,\ndefender of the northern world, whom I now cite, is my guarantee: a\nprince beloved of the goddess of Victory. His name alone is a bulwark\nagainst the empire of the Turks. I speak of the Polish king.[9] A king,\nit is understood, can never lie.\n\nHe says, then, that upon the frontiers of his kingdom there are animals\nthat have always been at war among themselves, their passion for\nfighting having been handed down from father to son. These animals, he\nexplains, are allied to the fox. Never has the science of war been more\nskilfully pursued among men than it is pursued by these beasts, not even\nin our present century. They have their advanced out-posts, their\nsentinels and spies; their ambuscades, their expedients, and a thousand\nother inventions of the pernicious and accursed science Warfare, a hag\nborn, herself, of Styx,[10] but giving birth to heroes.\n\nProperly to sing of the battles of these four-footed warriors Homer\nshould return from beyond the shores of Acheron.[11] Ah! could he but do\nso, and bring with him too the rival of old Epicurus,[12] what would the\nlatter say as to the examples I have narrated? He would say only what I\nhave already said, namely, that in the lower animals natural instinct is\nsufficient to explain all the wonders I have told: that memory leads the\nanimal to repeat over and over again the actions it has made before and\nfound successful.\n\nWe, as human beings, do differently. Our wills decide for us; not the\nbestial aim, nor the instinct. I walk, I speak, I feel in me a certain\nforce, an intelligent principle which all my bodily mechanism obeys.\nThis force is distinct from anything connected with my body. It is\nindeed more easily conceived than is the body itself, and of all our\nmovements it is the supreme controller. But how does the body conceive\nand understand this intelligent force? That is the point! I see the tool\nobeying the hand; but what guides the hand? Who guides the planets in\ntheir rapid courses? It may be some angel guide controls the whirling\nplanets; and in like manner some spirit dwells in us and controls all\nour machinery. The impulse is given--the impression made--but how, I do\nnot know! We shall only learn it in the bosom of God; and to speak\nfrankly, Descartes himself was no wiser. On that point we all are\nequals. All that I know is that this intelligent controlling spirit does\nnot exist in the lower animals. Man alone is its temple.\n\nNevertheless, we must allow to the beasts a higher plane than that of\nplants, notwithstanding the fact that plants breathe.\n\n\nIs there any explanation to what I shall now relate? Two rats who were\nseeking their living had the good fortune to find an egg. Such a dinner\nwas amply sufficient for folks of their species, they had no need to\nlook for an ox. With keen delight and an appetite to match they were\njust about to eat up the egg between them, when an unbidden guest\nappeared in the shape of Master Reynard the fox. This was a most awkward\nand vexatious visitation. How was the egg to be saved from the jaws of\nhim? To wrap it up carefully and carry it away by the fore paws, or to\nroll it, or to drag it, were methods as impossible as they were\nhazardous. But Necessity, that ingenious mother, furnished the\nnever-failing invention. The sponger being as yet far enough away to\ngive the rats time to reach their home, one of them lay upon his back\nand took the egg safely between his arms whilst the other, in spite of\nsundry shocks and a few slips, dragged him home by the tail.\n\n\nAfter this recital, let any one who dare maintain that animals have no\npowers of reason.\n\n\nFor my part if I had the portioning of these faculties I would allow as\nmuch reasoning power in animals as in infants, who evidently think from\ntheir earliest years, from which fact we may conclude that one can think\nwithout knowing oneself. I would, similarly, grant the animals a\nreason, not such as we possess, but far above a blind instinct. I would\nrefine a speck of matter, a tiny atom--extract of light--something more\nvivid and lively than fire; for since wood can turn to flame, cannot\nflame, being further purified, teach us something of the rarity of the\nsoul? And is not gold extracted from lead? My creatures should be\ncapable of feeling and judgment; but nothing more. There should be no\nargument from apes.\n\nAs to mankind, I would have their lot infinitely better. We men should\npossess a double treasure; firstly, the soul common to us all, just as\nwe happen to be, sages or fools, children, idiots, or our dumb\ncompanions the animals; secondly, another soul in common, in a certain\ndegree, with the angels, and this soul, independent of us though\nbelonging to us, should be able to reach to heavenly heights, whilst it\ncould also dwell within a point's space. Having a beginning it should be\nwithout end. Things incredible but true. During infancy this soul,\nitself a child of heaven, should appear to us only as a gentle and\nfeeble light; but as the faculties grew, the stronger reason would\npierce the darkness of matter enveloping our other imperfect and grosser\nsoul.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[Footnote 8: At the time when this was written there was much discussion\namong the learned in France as to the powers of reasoning in animals.]\n\n[Footnote 9: The allusion is to Sobieski, whose victory over the Turks\nmade him famous throughout Europe in 1673. La Fontaine had frequently\nmet him in the salons of the cultured ladies of France.]\n\n[Footnote 10: A nymph of one of the rivers of Hades named after her. She\nbecame the mother of Zelus (zeal), Nike (victory), Kratos (power), and\nBia (strength).]\n\n[Footnote 11: Also a river of Hades, the realm of the dead.]\n\n[Footnote 12: Descartes is meant as the rival of the old philosopher\nEpicurus.]\n\n\n\n\nXXXI\n\nTHE DOG WITH HIS EARS CROPPED\n\n(BOOK X.--No. 9)\n\n\n\"What have I done to be treated in this way? Mutilated by my own master!\nA nice state to be in! Dare I present myself before other dogs? O ye\nkings over the animals, or rather tyrants of them, would any creature do\nthe same to you?\"\n\nSuch were the lamentations of poor Fido, a young house-dog, whilst those\nwho were busy cropping his ears remained quite untouched by his piercing\nand dolorous howls.\n\nFido believed himself to be ruined for life; but he very shortly found\nthat he was a gainer by the maiming. For being by nature disposed to\npilfer from his companions, it would come within his experience to have\nmany misadventures wherein his ears would be torn in a hundred places.\n\nAggressive dogs always have ragged ears. The less they have for other\ndogs' teeth to fasten upon the better.\n\nWhen one has but a single weak place to defend, one protects it against\nan onset. Witness Master Fido armed with a spiked collar, and having no\nmore ears to catch hold of than are on my hand. Even a wolf would not\nhave known where to take him.\n\n\n\n\nXXXII\n\nTHE LIONESS AND THE SHE-BEAR\n\n(BOOK X--No. 13)\n\n\nMamma lioness had lost one of her cubs. Some hunter had made away with\nit, and the poor unfortunate mother roared out her wailings to such an\nextent that all the inhabitants of the forest were seriously disturbed.\nThe spells of the night, its darkness and its silence, were powerless to\nhush the tumult of the queen of the forest. Sleep was driven from every\nanimal within hearing.\n\nAt last the she-bear rose up and coming to the wailing lioness said,\n\"Good Gossip, just one word with you. All those little ones that have\npassed between your teeth, had they neither fathers nor mothers?\"\n\n\"To be sure they had.\"\n\n\"Then if that be so, and as none have come to mourn their dead in cries\nwhich would split our heads: if so many mothers have borne their loss\nsilently, why cannot you be silent also?\"\n\n\"I? I be silent? Unhappy I? Ah! I have lost my son! There is nought for\nme but to drag out a miserable old age.\"\n\n\"But pray tell me what obliges you to do so.\"\n\n\"Alas! Destiny. It is Destiny that hates me.\"\n\n[Illustration: Why cannot you be silent also?]\n\nThose are the words that are for ever in the mouths of us all.\n\nUnhappy human kind, let this address itself to you. I hear nothing but\nthe echoing murmur of trifling complaints. Whoever, in like case,\nbelieves himself the hated of the gods, let him consider Hecuba,[13] and\nhe will render thanks for their clemency.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[Footnote 13: Hecuba was the wife of Priam, King of Troy. When that city\nfell Hecuba was chosen by Ulysses as part of his share in the spoils.\nShe was changed into a dog for avenging the death of her son whose eyes\nhad been put out by the King of Thracia, and she finally ended her life\nby casting herself into the sea.]\n\n\n\n\nXXXIII\n\nTHE RABBITS\n\n(BOOK X.--No. 15)\n\n\nWhen I have noticed how man acts at times, and how, in a thousand ways,\nhe comports himself just as the lower animals do, I have often said to\nmyself that the lord of these lower orders has no fewer faults than his\nsubjects.\n\nNature has allowed every living thing a drop or two from the fount at\nwhich the spirits of all creatures imbibe.\n\nI will prove what I say.\n\nIf at the hour when night has scarcely passed and day hardly begun I\nclimb into a tree, on the edge of some wood, and, like a new Jupiter\nfrom the heights of Olympus, I send a shot at some unsuspecting rabbit,\nthen the whole colony of rabbits, who were enjoying their thyme-scented\nmeal with open eyes and listening ears upon the heath, immediately\nscamper away. The report sends them all to seek refuge in their\nsubterranean city.\n\nBut their great fright is soon over; the danger quickly forgotten. Again\nI see the rabbits more light-hearted than ever coming close under my\ndeath-dealing hand.\n\n\nDoes not this give us a picture of mankind? Dispersed by some storm, men\nno sooner reach a haven than they are ready again to risk the same winds\nand the same distress. True rabbits, they run again into the\ndeath-dealing hands of fortune.\n\n\nLet us add to this example another of a more ordinary kind.\n\nWhen strange dogs pass through any spot beyond their customary route\nthere is a grand to-do. I leave you to picture it. All the dogs of the\ndistrict with one idea in their heads join forces, barking and biting,\nto chase the intruder beyond the bounds of their territory.\n\nSo, it may be, a similar joint-interest in property or in glory and\ngrandeur leads such people as the governors of states, certain favoured\ncourtiers, and people of a trade to behave exactly like these jealous\ndogs. All of us, as a rule, rob the chance-comer and tear him to pieces.\nVain ladies and men of letters are usually so disposed. Woe betide the\nnewly-arrived beauty or a new writer!\n\nAs few as possible fighting round the cake! That's the best way!\n\nI could bring a hundred examples to bear upon this subject; but the\nshorter a discourse is the better. I take the masters of literature for\nmy model in this and hold that in the best of themes something should be\nleft unsaid for the reader to consider about. Therefore this discourse\nshall end.\n\n\n\n\nXXXIV\n\nTHE GODS WISHING TO INSTRUCT A SON OF JUPITER\n\n(BOOK XI.--No. 2)\n\n\nJupiter had a son, who, sensible of his lofty origin, showed always a\ngod-like spirit. Childhood is not much concerned with loving; yet to the\nchildhood of this young god, loving and wishing to be loved was the\nchief concern. In him, love and reason which grow with years, outraced\nTime, that light-winged bearer of the seasons which come, alas! only too\nquickly.\n\nFlora,[14] with laughing looks and winning airs, was the first to touch\nthe heart of the youthful Olympian. Everything that passion could\ninspire--delicate sentiments full of tenderness, tears, and sighs--all\nwere there: he forgot nothing. As a son of Jupiter he would by right of\nbirth be dowered with greater gifts than the sons of other gods; and it\nseemed as though all his behaviour were prompted by the reminiscence\nthat he had indeed already been a lover in some former state, so well\ndid he play the part.\n\nNevertheless, it was Jupiter's wish that the boy should be taught, and\nassembling the gods in council he said, \"So far, I have never been at\nfault in the conduct of the universe which I have ruled unaided; but\nthere are various charges which I now have decided to distribute amongst\nthe younger gods. This beloved child of mine I have already counted\nupon. He is of my own blood and many an altar already flames in his\nhonour. Yet to merit his rank among the immortals it is necessary that\nhe should possess all knowledge.\"\n\nAs the god of the thunders ceased the whole assembly applauded. As for\nthe boy himself, he did not appear to be above the wish to learn\neverything.\n\n\"I undertake,\" said Mars, the god of war, \"to teach him the art by which\nso many heroes have won the glories of Olympus and extended the empire.\"\n\n\"I will be his master in the art of the lyre,\" promised the fair and\nlearned Apollo.\n\n\"And I,\" said Hercules with the lion's-skin, \"will teach him how to\novercome Vice and quell evil passions, those poisonous monsters which\nlike Hydras[15] are ever reborn in the heart. A foe to effeminate\npleasures, he shall learn from me those too seldom trodden paths that\nlead to honour along the tracks of virtue.\"\n\nWhen it came to Cupid, the god of love, to speak he simply said, \"I can\nshow him everything.\"\n\n\nAnd Cupid was right; for what cannot be achieved with wit and the desire\nto please?\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[Footnote 14: The Goddess of Spring and of Flowers, was also regarded by\nthe Greeks as the Goddess of Youth and its pleasures.]\n\n[Footnote 15: The Hydra was a monster with one hundred heads. If one was\ncut off two grew in its place unless the wound was stopped by fire.]\n\n\n\n\nXXXV\n\nTHE LION, THE MONKEY, AND THE TWO ASSES\n\n(BOOK XI.--No. 5)\n\n\nKing Lion, thinking that he would govern better if he took a few lessons\nin moral philosophy, had a monkey brought to him one fine day who was a\nmaster of arts in the monkey tribe. The first lesson he gave was as\nfollows:--\n\n\"Great King, in order to govern wisely a prince should always consider\nthe good of the country before yielding to that feeling which is\ncommonly known as self-love, for that fault is the father of all the\nvices one sees in animals. To rid oneself of this sentiment is not an\neasy thing to do, and is not to be done in a day. Indeed, merely to\nmoderate it is to achieve a good deal, and if you succeed so far you\nwill never tolerate in yourself anything ridiculous or unjust.\"\n\n\"Give me,\" commanded the king, \"an example of each of those faults.\"\n\n\"Every species of creature,\" continued the philosopher, \"esteems itself\nin its heart above all the others. These others it regards as\nignoramuses, calling them by many hard names which, after all, hurt\nnobody. At the same time this self-love, which sneers at other tribes\nand other kinds of beasts, induces the individual to heap praise upon\nother individuals of his own species, because that is a very good way of\npraising oneself too. From this it is easy to see that many talents here\nbelow are in reality but empty pretence, assumption, and pose, and a\ncertain gift of making the most of oneself, better understood by\nignorant people than by learned.\n\n\"The other day I followed two asses who were offering the incense of\nflattery to each other by turns, and heard one say, 'My Lord, do you not\nthink that man, that perfect animal, is both unjust and stupid? He\nprofanes our august name by calling every one of his own kind an ass who\nis ignorant, or dull, or idiotic; and he calls our laughter and our\ndiscourse by the term \"braying.\" It is very amusing that these human\npeople pretend to excel us!'\n\n\"'My friend,' said his companion, 'it is for you to speak, and for them\nto hold their tongues. They are the true brayers. But let us speak no\nmore of them. We two understand each other; that is sufficient. And as\nfor the marvels of delight your divine voice lets fall upon our ears,\nthe nightingale herself is but a novice in comparison. You surpass the\ncourt musician.'\n\n\"To this the other donkey replied, 'My lord, I admire in you exactly the\nsame excellencies.'\n\n\"Not content with flattering each other in this way, these two asses\nwent about the cities singing aloud each other's praises. Either one\nthought he was doing a good turn to himself in thus lauding his\ncompanion.\n\n\"Well, your majesty, I know of many people to-day, not among asses, but\namong exalted creatures, whom heaven has been pleased to raise to a high\ndegree, who would, if they dared, change their title of 'Excellency to\nthat of 'Majesty.' I am saying more than I should, perhaps, and I hope\nyour majesty will keep the secret. You wished to hear of some incident\nwhich would show you, among other things, how self-love makes people\nridiculous, and there I have given you a good instance. Injustice I will\nspeak of another time, it would take too long now.\"\n\nThus spoke the ape. No one has ever been able to tell me whether he ever\ndid speak of injustice to his king. It would have been a delicate\nmatter, and our master of arts, who was no fool, regarded the lion as\ntoo terrible a king to submit to being lectured too far.\n\n\n\n\nXXXVI\n\nTHE WOLF AND THE FOX IN THE WELL\n\n(BOOK XI.--No. 6)\n\n\nWhy does AEsop give to the fox the reputation of excelling in all tricks\nof cunning? I have sought for a reason, but cannot find one. Does not\nthe wolf, when he has need to defend his life or take that of another,\ndisplay as much knowingness as the fox? I believe he knows more, and I\ndare, perhaps with some reason, to contradict my master in this\nparticular.\n\nNevertheless, here is a case where undoubtedly all the honour fell to\nthe dweller in burrows.\n\nOne evening a fox, who was as hungry as a dog, happened to see the round\nreflection of the moon in a well, and he believed it to be a fine\ncheese. There were two pails which alternately drew up the water. Into\nthe uppermost of these the fox leapt, and his weight caused him to\ndescend the well, where he at once discovered his mistake about the\ncheese. He became extremely worried and fancied his end approaching, for\nhe could see no way to get up again but by some other hungry one,\nenticed by the same reflection, coming down in the same way that he had.\n\nTwo days passed without any one coming to the well. Time, which is\nalways marching onward, had, during two nights, hollowed the outline\nof the silvery planet, and Reynard was in despair.\n\n[Illustration: Descended by his greater weight.]\n\nAt last a wolf, parched with thirst, drew near, to whom the fox called\nfrom below, \"Comrade, here is a treat for you! Do you see this? It is an\nexquisite cheese, made by Faunus[16] from milk of the heifer Io.[17] If\nJupiter were ill and lost his appetite he would find it again by one\ntaste of this. I have only eaten this piece out of it; the rest will be\nplenty for you. Come down in the pail up there. I put it there on\npurpose for you.\"\n\nA rigmarole so cleverly told was easily believed by the fool of a wolf,\nwho descended by his greater weight, which not only took him down, but\nbrought the fox up.\n\n\nWe ought not to laugh at the wolf, for we often enough let ourselves be\ndeluded with just as little cause. Everybody is ready to believe the\nthing he fears and the thing he desires.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[Footnote 16: The benign spirit of the fields and woods.]\n\n[Footnote 17: A priestess who was changed by Hera, wife of Zeus, into a\nwhite heifer.]\n\n\n\n\nXXXVII\n\nTHE MICE AND THE SCREECH-OWL\n\n(BOOK XI.--No. 9)\n\n\nIt is not always wise to say to your company, \"Just listen to this joke\"\nor \"What do you think of this for a marvel?\" for one can never be sure\nthat the listeners will regard the matter in the same way that the\nteller does. Yet here is a case that makes an exception to this good\nrule, and I maintain that it is in truth wonderful, and, although it has\nthe appearance of being a fable, it is in reality absolute fact.\n\nThere was once an extremely old pine-tree which an owl, that grim bird\nwhich Atropus[18] takes for her interpreter, had made to serve as his\npalace. But there were other tenants lodging in its cavernous and\ntime-rotted trunk. These were mice, well fed, positive balls of fat, but\nnot one of them had a foot. They had all been mutilated. The owl had\nnipped their feet off with his beak, whilst feeding and fostering them\nwith wheat from neighbouring stacks.\n\nIt must be confessed that this bird had reasoned.\n\nDoubtless, in his time, when hunting mice, he had found that after\nbringing them home they escaped again from the trunk, and to prevent\nthe recurrence of such a loss the artful rascal had thenceforth nipped\noff the feet of all he caught, keeping them prisoners and eating them\none to-day and one to-morrow. To eat them all at once would have been\nimpossible. He had his health to think of. His forethought, which went\nquite as far as ours, extended to bringing them grain for their\nsubsistence.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nIf this is not reasoning, then I do not understand what reasoning is.\nSee what arguments he used:--\n\n\"When these mice are caught they run away, therefore I must eat them as\nI catch them. What all? Impossible! But would it not be well to keep\nsome for a needy future? If so, I must keep them and feed them too,\nwithout their escaping. But how's that to be done? Happy thought! Nip\noff their feet!\"\n\nNow find me among human beings anything better carried out. Did\nAristotle and his followers do any better thinking, by my faith?\n\n\nNOTE.--This is not a fable. The thing actually occurred, although\nmarvellous enough and almost incredible. I have perhaps carried the\nforethought of this owl too far, for I do not pretend to establish in\nanimals a line of reasoning; but in this style of literature a little\nexaggeration is pardonable.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[Footnote 18: One of the three Fates, the first and second being Clotho\nand Lachesis. They spun, measured, and cut off, respectively, the thread\nof life for men at their birth.]\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\nXXXVIII\n\nTHE COMPANIONS OF ULYSSES\n\n(BOOK XII.--No. 1)\n\n\nThat great hero-wanderer Ulysses had been with his companions driven\nhither and thither at the will of the winds for ten years, never knowing\nwhat their ultimate fate was to be. At length they disembarked upon a\nshore where Circe, the daughter of Apollo, held her court. Receiving\nthem she brewed a delicious but baneful liquor, which she made them\ndrink. The result of this was that first they lost their reason, and a\nfew moments after, their bodies took the forms and features of various\nanimals; some unwieldy, some small. Ulysses alone, having the wisdom to\nwithstand the temptation of the treacherous cup, escaped the\nmetamorphosis. He, besides possessing wisdom, bore the look of a hero\nand had the gift of honeyed speech, so that it came about that the\ngoddess herself imbibed a poison little different from her own; that is\nto say, she became enamoured of the hero and declared her love to him.\nNow was the time for Ulysses to profit by this turn of events, and he\nwas too cunning to miss the opportunity, so he begged and obtained the\nboon that his friends should be restored to their natural shapes.\n\n\"But will they be willing to accept their own forms again?\" asked the\nnymph. \"Go to them and make them the offer.\"\n\nUlysses, glad and eager, ran to his Greeks and cried, \"The poisoned cup\nhas its remedy, and I come to offer it to you. Dear friends of mine,\nwill you not be glad to have your manly forms again? Speak, for your\nspeech is already restored.\"\n\nThe lion was the first to reply. Making an effort to roar he said, \"I,\nfor one, am not such a fool. What! renounce all the great advantages\nthat have just been given me? I have teeth. I have claws. I can pull to\npieces anything that attacks me. I am, in fact, a king. Do you think it\nwould suit me to become a citizen of Ithaca once more? Who knows but\nthat you might make of me a common soldier again. Thank you; but I will\nremain as I am.\"\n\nUlysses, in sad surprise, turned to the bear. \"Ah, brother! what form is\nthis you have taken, you who used to be so handsome?\"\n\n\"Well, really! I like that!\" said the bear in his way. \"What form is\nthis? you ask. Why it is the form that a bear should have. Pray who\ninstructed you that one form is more handsome than another? Is it your\nbusiness to judge between us? I prefer to appeal to the sight of the\ngentler sex in our ursine race. Do I displease you? Then pass on. Go\nyour ways and leave me to mine. I am free and content as I am, and I\ntell you frankly and flatly that I will not change my state.\"\n\nThe princely Greek then turned to a wolf with the same proposals, and\nrisking a similar rebuff said: \"Comrade, it overwhelms me that a sweet\nyoung shepherdess should be driven to complain to the echoing crags of\nthe gluttonous appetite that impelled you to devour her sheep. Time was\nwhen you would have protected her sheepfold. In those days you led an\nhonest life. Leave your lairs and become, instead of a wolf, an honest\nman again.\"\n\n\"What is that?\" answered the wolf. \"I don't see your point. You come\nhere treating me as though I were a carnivorous beast. But what are you,\nwho are talking in this strain? Would not you and yours have eaten these\nsheep, which all the village is deploring, if I had not? Now say, on\nyour oath, do you really think I should have loved slaughter any less if\nI had remained a man? For a mere word, you men are at times ready to\nstrangle each other. Are you not, therefore, as wolves one to another?\nAll things considered, I maintain as a matter of fact that, rascal for\nrascal, it is better to be a wolf than a man. I decline to make any\nchange in my condition.\"\n\nIn this way did Ulysses go from one to another making the same\nrepresentations and receiving from all, large and small alike, the same\nrefusals. Liberty, unbridled lust of appetite, the ambushes of the\nwoods, all these things were their supreme delight. They all renounced\nthe glory attaching to great deeds.\n\n\nThey thought that in following their passions they were enjoying\nfreedom, not seeing that they were but slaves to themselves.\n\n\n\n\nXXXIX\n\nTHE QUARREL BETWEEN THE DOGS AND THE CATS AND BETWEEN THE CATS AND THE\nMICE\n\n(BOOK XII--No. 8)\n\n\nDiscord has always reigned in the universe; of this our world furnishes\na thousand different instances, for with us the sinister goddess has\nmany subjects.\n\nLet us begin with the four elements. Here you may be astonished to\nobserve that they are, throughout, in antagonism to each other. Besides\nthese four potentates how many other forces of all descriptions are\neverlastingly at war!\n\nIn bygone times there was a house which was full of cats and dogs who\nlived together like amicable cousins, for this reason: Their master had\nmade a hundred irrevocable laws and rules, settling their respective\ntasks, their meals, and every other incident of their lives, and at the\nsame time he threatened with the whip the first one who should promote a\nquarrel. The kindly, almostly brotherly nature of this union was very\nedifying to the neighbours.\n\nBut at last the concord ceased. Some little favouritism in the bestowal\nof a bone, or a dish of food, caused the outraged remainder to raise\nfurious protests. I have heard some chroniclers attribute the discord to\nan affair of love and jealousy. At any rate, whatever the origin, the\naltercation speedily fired both hall and kitchen, and divided the\ncompany into partisans for this cat or for that dog.\n\nA new rule was made, which exasperated the cats, and their complaints\ndeafened the whole neighbourhood. Their advocate advised returning\nabsolutely to the old rules and decrees. The law books were searched\nfor, but could nowhere be found. And that was no wonder, for the books\nwhich had been hidden in a corner by one set of partisans at first had\nbeen at last devoured by mice. This gave rise to another law-suit, which\nthe mice lost and had to pay for.\n\nMany old cats, cunning, subtle, and sharp, and bearing a grudge against\nthe whole race of mice beside, lay in wait for them, caught them, and\ncleared them out of the house, much to the advantage of the master of\nthe establishment.\n\n\nSo, returning to my moral, one cannot find under heaven any animal, any\nbeing, any creature who has not his opponent. This appears to be a law\nof nature. It would be time wasted to seek for a reason. God does well\nwhatever he does. Beyond that I know nothing; but I do know that people\ncome to high words over nothing three times out of four. Ah, ye human\nfolk! even at the age of sixty you ought to be sent back to the\nschoolmaster.\n\n\n\n\nXL\n\nTHE WOLF AND THE FOX\n\n(BOOK XII.--No. 9)\n\n\nA fox once remarked to a wolf, \"Dear friend, do you know that the utmost\nI can get for my meals is a tough old cock or perchance a lean hen or\ntwo. It is a diet of which I am thoroughly weary. You, on the other\nhand, feed much better than that, and with far less danger. My foraging\ntakes me close up to houses; but you keep far away. I beg of you,\ncomrade, to teach me your trade. Let me be the first of my race to\nfurnish my pot with a plump sheep, and you will not find me ungrateful.\"\n\n\"Very well,\" replied the obliging wolf. \"I have a brother recently dead,\nsuppose you go and get his skin and wear it.\" This the fox accordingly\ndid and the wolf commenced to give him lessons. \"You must do this and\nact so, when you wish to separate the dogs from the flocks.\" At first\nReynard was a little awkward, but he rapidly improved, and with a little\npractice he reached at last the perfection of wolfish strategy. Just as\nhe had learned all that there was to know a flock approached. The sham\nwolf ran after it spreading terror all around, even as Patroclus\nwearing[19] the armour of Achilles spread alarm throughout camp and\ncity, when mothers, wives, and old men hastened to the temples for\nprotection. \"In this case, the bleating army made sure there must be\nquite fifty wolves after them, and fled, dog and shepherd with them, to\nthe neighbouring village, leaving only one sheep as a hostage.\n\nThis remaining sheep our thief instantly seized and was making off with\nit. But he had not gone more than a few steps when a cock crew near by.\nAt this signal, which habit of life had led him to regard as a warning\nof dawn and danger, he dropped his disguising wolf-skin and, forgetting\nhis sheep, his lesson, and his master, scampered off with a will.\n\n\nOf what use is such shamming? It is an illusion to suppose that one is\nreally changed by making the pretence. One resume's one's first nature\nupon the earliest occasion for hiding it.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[Footnote 19: At the Siege of Troy. He was mistaken for Achilles.]\n\n[Illustration: A guide for the footsteps of love.]\n\n\n\n\nXLI\n\nLOVE AND FOLLY\n\n(BOOK XII.--No. 14)\n\n\nEverything to do with love is mystery. Cupid's arrows, his quiver, his\ntorch, his boyhood: it is more than a day's work to exhaust this\nscience. I make no pretence here of explaining everything. My object is\nmerely to relate to you, in my own way, how the blind little god was\ndeprived of his sight, and what consequences followed this evil which\nperchance was a blessing after all. On the latter point I will decide\nnothing, but will leave it to lovers to judge upon.\n\n\nOne day as Folly and Love were playing together, before the boy had lost\nhis vision, a dispute arose. To settle this matter Love wished to lay\nhis cause before a council of the gods; but Folly, losing her patience,\ndealt him a furious blow upon the brow. From that moment and for ever\nthe light of heaven was gone from his eyes.\n\nVenus demanded redress and revenge, the mother and the wife in her\nasserting themselves in a way which I leave you to imagine. She deafened\nthe gods with her cries, appealing to Jupiter, Nemesis, the judges from\nHades, in fact all who would be importuned. She represented the\nseriousness of the case, pointing out that her son could now not make a\nstep without a stick. No punishment, she urged, was heavy enough for so\ndire a crime, and she demanded that the damage should be repaired.\n\nWhen the gods had each well considered the public interest on the one\nhand and the complainant's demands upon the other, the supreme court\ngave as its verdict that Folly was condemned for ever more to serve as a\nguide for the footsteps of Love.\n\n\n\n\nXLII\n\nTHE FOREST AND THE WOODCUTTER\n\n(BOOK XII.--No. 16)\n\n\nA woodcutter had broken or lost the handle of his hatchet and found it\nnot easy to get it repaired at once. During the time, therefore, that it\nwas out of use, the woods enjoyed a respite from further damage. At last\nthe man came humbly and begged of the forest to allow him gently to take\njust one branch wherewith to make him a new haft, and promised that then\nhe would go elsewhere to ply his trade and get his living. That would\nleave unthreatened many an oak and many a fir that now won universal\nrespect on account of its age and beauty.\n\nThe innocent forest acquiesced and furnished him with a new handle. This\nhe fixed to his blade and, as soon as it was finished, fell at once upon\nthe trees, despoiling his benefactress, the forest, of her most\ncherished ornaments. There was no end to her bewailings: her own gift\nhad caused her grief.\n\n\nHere you see the way of the world and of those who follow it. They use\nthe benefit against the benefactors. I weary of talking about it. Yet\nwho would not complain that sweet and shady spots should suffer such\noutrage. Alas! it is useless to cry out and be thought a nuisance:\ningratitude and abuses will remain the fashion none the less.\n\n\n\n\nXLIII\n\nTHE FOX AND THE YOUNG TURKEYS\n\n(BOOK XII.--No. 18)\n\n\nSome young turkeys were lucky enough to find a tree which served them as\na citadel against the assaults of a certain fox. He, one night, having\nmade the round of the rampart and seen each turkey watching like a\nsentinel, exclaimed, \"What! These people laugh at me, do they? And do\nthey think that they alone are exempt from the common rule? No! by all\nthe gods! no!\"\n\nHe accomplished his design.\n\nThe moon shining brilliantly seemed to favour the turkey folk against\nthe fox. But he was no novice in the laying of sieges, and had recourse\nto his bag of rascally tricks. He pretended to climb the tree; stood\nupon his hind legs; counterfeited death; then came to life again.\nHarlequin himself could not have acted so many parts. He reared his tail\nand made it gleam in the moonshine, and practised a hundred other\npleasantries, during which no turkey could have dared to go to sleep.\nThe enemy tired them out at last by keeping their eyes fixed upon him.\nThe poor birds became dazed. One lost its balance and fell. Reynard put\nit by. Then another fell and was caught and laid on one side. Nearly\nhalf of them at length succumbed and were taken off to the fox's larder.\n\n\nTo concentrate too much attention upon a danger may cause us to tumble\ninto it.\n\n\n\n\nXLIV\n\nTHE APE\n\n(BOOK XII.--No. 19)\n\n\nThere is an ape in Paris to whom a wife was once given; and he,\nimitating many another husband, beat the poor creature to such an extent\nthat she sighed all the breath out of her body and died.\n\nTheir son uttered the most doleful howls as a protest to this terrible\nbusiness.\n\nThe father laughs now. His wife is dead and he already has found other\nlady companions, whom, no doubt, he beats in the same way; for he haunts\nthe taverns and is frequently tipsy.\n\n\nNever expect anything good from people who imitate, whether they be apes\nor authors. Of the two the worst kind is the imitating author.\n\n\n\n\nXLV\n\nTHE SCYTHIAN PHILOSOPHER\n\n(BOOK XII.--No. 20)\n\n\nA certain austere philosopher of Scythia, wishing to follow a pleasant\nlife, travelled through the land of the Greeks, and there he found in a\nquiet spot a sage, one such as Virgil has written of; a man the equal of\nkings, the peer almost of the gods, and like them content and tranquil.\n\nThe happiness of this sage lay entirely in his beautiful garden. There\nthe Scythian found him, pruning hook in hand, cutting away the useless\nwood from his fruit trees; lopping here, pruning there, trimming this\nand that, and everywhere aiding Nature, who repaid his care with usury.\n\n\"Why this wrecking?\" asked the philosopher. \"Is it wisdom thus to\nmutilate these poor dwellers in your garden? Drop that merciless tool,\nyour pruning hook. Leave the work to the scythe of time. He will send\nthem, soon enough, to the shores of the river of the departed.\"\n\n\"I am taking away the superfluous,\" answered the sage, \"so that what is\nleft may flourish the better.\"\n\nThe Scythian returned to his cheerless abode and, taking a bill-hook,\ncut and trimmed every hour in the day, advising his neighbours to do\nlikewise and prescribing to his friends the means and methods. A\nuniversal cutting-down followed. The handsomest boughs were lopped; his\norchard mutilated beyond all reason. The seasons were disregarded, and\nneither young moons nor old were noted. In the end everything languished\nand died.\n\n\nThis Scythian philosopher resembles the indiscriminating Stoic who cuts\naway from the soul all passions and desires, good as well as bad, even\nto the most innocent wishes. For my own part, I protest against such\npeople strongly. They take from the heart its greatest impulses and we\ncease to live before we are dead.\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\nXLVI\n\nTHE ELEPHANT AND JUPITER'S APE\n\n(BOOK XII.--No. 21)\n\n\nOnce in the olden times the elephant and the rhinoceros disputed as to\nwhich was the more important, and which should, therefore, have empire\nover the other animals. They decided to settle the point by battle in an\nenclosed field.\n\nThe day was fixed, and all in readiness, when somebody came and informed\nthem that Jupiter's ape, bearing a caduceus, had been seen in the air.\nThe fact of his holding a caduceus[20] proved him to be acting as\nofficial messenger from Olympus, and the elephant immediately took it\nfor granted that the ape came as ambassador with greetings to his\nhighness. Elated with this idea he waited for Gille, for that was the\nname of the ape, and thought him rather tardy in presenting his\ncredentials. But at length Master Gille did salute his excellency as he\npassed, and the elephant prepared himself for the message. But not a\nword was forthcoming.\n\nIt was evident that the gods were not giving so much attention to these\nmatters as the elephant supposed.\n\nWhat does it matter to those in high places whether one is an elephant\nor a fly?\n\nThe would-be monarch was reduced to the necessity of opening the\nconversation himself. \"My cousin Jupiter,\" he began, \"will soon be able\nto watch a rather fine combat from his supreme throne, and his court\nwill see some splendid sport.\"\n\n\"What combat?\" asked the ape rather severely.\n\n\"What! Do you not know that the rhinoceros denies me precedence: that\nthe Elephantidae are at war with the Rhinocerotidae? You surely know these\nfamilies: they have some reputation.\"\n\n\"I am charmed to learn their names,\" replied Master Gille. \"We are\nlittle concerned about such matters in our vast halls.\"\n\nThis shamed and surprised the elephant. \"Eh! What, then, is the reason\nof your visit amongst us?\"\n\n\"Oh, it was to divide a blade of grass between two ants. We care for\nall. As for your affair, nothing has been said about it in the council\nof the gods. The little and the great are equal in their eyes.\"\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[Footnote 20: The wand or official staff of Hermes.]\n\n\n\n\nXLVII\n\n\nTHE LEAGUE OF RATS\n\n(BOOK XII.--No. 26)\n\n\nThere was once a mouse who lived in terrible fear of a cat that had lain\nin wait watching for her. She was in great anxiety to know what she\ncould do to escape the threatening danger.\n\nBeing prudent and wise she consulted her neighbour, a large and\nimportant rat. His lordship the rat had taken up his abode in a very\ngood inn, and had boasted a hundred times that he had no fear for either\ntom-cat or she-cat. Neither teeth nor claws caused him any anxious\nthought.\n\n\"Dame Mouse,\" said this boaster, \"whatever I do, I cannot, upon my word,\nchase away this cat that threatens you without some help. But let me\ncall together all the rats hereabouts and I'll play him a sorry trick or\ntwo.\"\n\nThe mouse curtsied humbly her thanks and the rat ran with speed to the\nhead-quarters; that is to say to the larder, where the rats were in the\nhabit of assembling. Arriving out of breath and perturbed in mind he\nfound them making a great feast at the expense of their host.\n\n\"What ails you?\" asked one of the feasters. \"Speak!\"\n\n\"In two words,\" answered he, \"the reason for my coming among you in\nthis way is simply that it has become absolutely necessary to help the\nmice; for Grimalkin is abroad making terrible slaughter among them.\nThis, the most devilish of cats, will, when she has no mice left, turn\nher attention to the eating of rats.\"\n\n\"He says what is true,\" cried they all. \"To arms, to arms!\" Nothing\ncould stem the tide of their impetuosity; although, it is said, a few\nshe-rats shed tears. It was no matter. Every one overhauled his\nequipment, and filled his wallet with cheese. To risk life was the\ndetermination of all. They set off, as if to a fete, with happy minds\nand joyful hearts.\n\nAlas, for the mouse! These warriors were a moment too late. The cat had\nher already by the head. Advancing at the double the rats ran to the\nsuccour of their good little friend; but the cat swore, and stalked away\nin front of the enemy, having no intention of surrendering her prey.\n\nAt the sound of the cat's defiance, the prudent rats, fearing ill fate,\nbeat a safe retreat without carrying any further their intended\nonslaught. Each one ran to his hole, and whenever any ventured out again\nit was always with the utmost caution to avoid the cat.\n\n\n\n\nXLVIII\n\nTHE ARBITER, THE HOSPITALLER, AND THE HERMIT\n\n(BOOK XII.--No. 28)\n\n\nThree saints, all equally zealous and anxious for their salvation, had\nthe same ideal, although the means by which they strove towards it were\ndifferent. But as all roads lead to Rome, these three were each content\nto choose their own path.\n\nOne, touched by the cares, the tediousness, and the reverses which seem\nto be inevitably attached to lawsuits, offered, without any reward, to\njudge and settle all causes submitted to him. To make a fortune on this\nearth was not an end he had in view.\n\nEver since there have been laws, man, for his sins, has condemned\nhimself to litigation half his lifetime. Half? three-quarters, I should\nsay, and sometimes the whole. This good conciliator imagined he could\ncure the silly and detestable craze for going to law.\n\nThe second saint chose the hospitals as his field of labour. I admire\nhim. Kindly care taken to alleviate the sufferings of mankind is a\ncharity I prefer before all others.\n\nThe sick of those days were much as they are now--peevish, impatient,\nand ever grumbling. They gave our poor hospitaller plenty of work. They\nwould say, \"Ah! he cares very particularly for such and such. They are\nhis friends, hence we are neglected.\"\n\nBut bad as were these complaints they were nothing to those which the\narbiter had to face. He got himself into a sorry tangle. No one was\ncontent. Arbitration pleased neither one side nor the other. According\nto them the judge could never succeed in holding the balance level. No\nwonder that at last the self-appointed judge grew weary.\n\nHe betook himself to the hospitals. There he found that the\nself-sacrificing hospitaller had nothing better to tell of his results.\nComplaints and murmurs were all that either could gain.\n\nWith sad hearts they gave up their endeavours and repaired to the silent\nwood, there to live down their sorrows. In these retreats, at a spot\nsheltered from the sun, gently tended by the breezes, and near a pure\nrivulet, they found the third saint, and of him they asked advice.\n\n\"Advice,\" said he, \"is only to be sought of yourselves; for who, better\nthan yourselves, can know your own needs? The knowledge of oneself is\nthe first care imposed upon mankind by the Almighty. Have you obeyed\nthis mandate whilst out in the world? If there you did not learn to know\nyourselves, these tranquil shades will certainly help you; for nowhere\nelse is it possible. Stir up this stream. Do you now see yourselves\nreflected in it? No! How could you, when the mud is like a thick cloud\nbetween us and the crystal? But let it settle, my brothers, and then you\nwill see your image. The better to study yourselves live in the\ndesert.\"\n\nThe lonely hermit was believed and the others followed his wise counsel.\n\n\nIt does not follow that people should not be well employed. Since some\nmust plead; since men die and fall ill, doctors are a necessity and so\nalso are lawyers. These ministers, thank God, will never fail us. The\nwealth and honours to be won make one sure of that. Nevertheless, in\nthese general needs one is apt to neglect oneself. And you, judges,\nministers, and princes, who give all your time to the public weal; you,\nwho are troubled by countless annoyances and disappointments,\ndisheartened by failure and corrupted by good fortune--you do not see\nyourselves. You see no one. Should some good impulse lead you to think\nover these matters, some flatterer breaks in and distracts you.\n\n\nThis lesson is the ending of this work. May the centuries to come find\nit a useful one. I present it to kings. I propose it to the wise. What\nbetter ending could I make?\n\n\n\n\nLETCHWORTH\n\nTHE TEMPLE PRESS\n\nPRINTERS","title":"The Original Fables of La Fontaine: Rendered into English Prose by Fredk. Colin Tilney","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":21188}