The Fables of La Fontaine
It only remains to speak of the life of Æsop, whose biography by
Planudes is almost universally regarded as fabulous. It is supposed
that this writer formed the design of attributing a character and
adventures to his hero which should bear some resemblance to his
fables. This criticism, at first glance, appeared to me sufficiently
specious, but I have since found that it has no solid basis. It is
partly founded on what took place between Xantus and Æsop, and the
quantities of nonsense there contrasted. To which I reply, Who is the
sage to whom such things have not happened? The whole of the life even
of Socrates was not serious; and what confirms me in my favourable
opinion is, that the character which Planudes gives to Æsop is similar
to that which Plutarch gives him in his Banquet of the Seven Wise
Men--that is, the character of a keen and all-observant man. It may
be objected, I know, that the Banquet of the Seven Wise Men is in
itself a fiction; and I admit that it is possible to be doubtful about
everything. For my own part, I cannot well see why Plutarch should have
desired to deceive posterity on this subject, when he has professed
to be truthful on every other, and to give to each of his personages
his real character. But however this may be, I would ask, Shall I be
less likely to be believed if I endorse another man's falsehoods than
if I invented some of my own? I might certainly fabricate a tissue of
conjectures, and entitle them the "Life of Æsop;" but whatever air of
genuineness it might wear, no one could rely upon such a work, and, if
he must put up with fiction, the reader would always prefer that of
Planudes to mine.
[1] Before the year 1668, when the present collection of
fables was first published. Fontaine had already published a few
separately, and others had circulated in manuscript.
[2] Patru, a celebrated lawyer, a member of the French
Academy, and one of La Fontaine's friends, who made a strange mistake
in trying to divert him from a species of composition which has
immortalised him.
[3] These fables had long been known when Socrates came into
the world, and the Father of Philosophy only took the trouble to render
them into verse during the imprisonment which preceded his death.
[4] The word Μουσιχὴ implied amongst the Greeks all the arts
to which the Muses devote themselves. It comprises the employments of
the mind in opposition to γυμναστιχὴ, which means the exercises of the
body. La Fontaine does not give Plato's meaning quite correctly. The
philosopher, at the commencement of the "Phædo," makes Socrates say
that, having been several times warned in dreams by the gods to study
music, he had only regarded it as an encouragement to persevere in
the pursuit of truth; but that, since his imprisonment, he had given
another interpretation to those warnings, and had decided that he
should better obey the wishes of the gods by making verses.
[5] The following is the passage in Quintilian to which the
poet alludes:--"Ego vero narrationem, at si ullam partem orationis,
omni qua potest gratia et venere exorundam."--<i>Quint., "Hist Orat."</i>
lib. ix., cap iv.
[6] La Fontaine has not ventured altogether to repair the
oversight of the ancients, for he has left the origin of fables a
doubtful point between heaven and earth, when he says, in a dedication
to Madame de Montespan, "The fable is a gift which comes from the
immortals; if it were the gift of man, he who gave it us would indeed
deserve a temple."
[7] The word fabulist was invented by La Fontaine, and has
no equivalent either in the Greek or Latin languages. La Motte only
ventured to use it under cover of the authority of our poet; and the
French Academy, having declined to admit it into the first edition of
its Dictionary, which was published after La Fontaine's death, only did
so when it had been sanctioned by usage and public admiration.
[8] <i>Hor.</i>, "<i>Ars Poet.</i>," v. 150.
TO
MONSEIGNEUR THE DAUPHIN.
I sing the heroes who call Æsop father,
Whose history, although deceitful rather,
Some truths and useful lessons, too, contains.
Everything finds a tongue in these my strains;
And what they say is wholesome: now and then
My animals I use as texts for men.
Illustrious branch of one the gods hold dear,
And by the whole world held in love and fear,
He who the proudest chiefs at once defies,
And counts the days by glorious victories,
Others will better tell, and higher soar,
To sing your mighty ancestors of yore;
But I would please thee in a humbler way,
And trace in verse the sketches I essay;
Yet if to please thee I do not succeed,
At least the fame of trying be my meed.
FABLE I.
THE GRASSHOPPER AND THE ANT.
The Grasshopper, so blithe and gay,
Sang the summer time away.
Pinched and poor the spendthrift grew,
When the sour north-easter blew.
In her larder not a scrap,
Bread to taste, nor drink to lap.
To the Ant, her neighbour, she
Went to moan her penury,
Praying for a loan of wheat,
Just to make a loaf to eat,
Till the sunshine came again.
"All I say is fair and plain,
I will pay you every grain,
Principal and interest too,
Before harvest, I tell you,
On my honour--every pound,
Ere a single sheaf is bound."
The Ant's a very prudent friend,
Never much disposed to lend;
Virtues great and failings small,
This her failing least of all.
Quoth she, "How spent you the summer?"
"Night and day, to each new comer
I sang gaily, by your leave;
Singing, singing, morn and eve."
"You sang? I see it at a glance.
Well, then, now's the time to dance."
FABLE II.
THE RAVEN AND THE FOX.
Master Raven, perched upon a tree,
Held in his beak a savoury piece of cheese;
Its pleasant odour, borne upon the breeze,
Allured Sir Reynard, with his flattery.
"Ha! Master Raven, 'morrow to you, sir;
How black and glossy! now, upon my word,
I never--beautiful! I do aver.
If but your voice becomes your coat, no bird
More fit to be the Phœnix of our wood--
I hope, sir, I am understood?"
The Raven, flattered by the praise,
Opened his spacious beak, to show his ways
Of singing: down the good cheese fell.
Quick the Fox snapped it. "My dear sir, 'tis well,"
He said. "Know that a flatterer lives
On him to whom his praise he gives;
And, my dear neighbour, an' you please,
This lesson's worth a slice of cheese."--
The Raven, vexed at his consenting,
Flew off, too late in his repenting.
FABLE III.
THE FROG THAT WISHED TO MAKE HERSELF AS BIG AS THE OX.
A Frog, no bigger than a pullet's egg,
A fat Ox feeding in a meadow spied.
The envious little creature blew and swelled;
In vain to reach the big bull's bulk she tried.
"Sister, now look! observe me close!" she cried.
"Is this enough?"--"No!" "Tell me! now then see!"
"No, no!" "Well, now I'm quite as big as he?"
"You're scarcely bigger than you were at first!"
One more tremendous puff--she grew so large--she burst.
The whole world swarms with people not more wise:
The tradesman's villa with the palace vies.
Ambassadors your poorest Princelings send,
And every Count has pages without end.
FABLE IV.
THE TWO MULES.
Two Mules were journeying--one charged with oats,
The other with a tax's golden fruit.
This last betrayed that manner which denotes
Excessive vanity in man or brute.
Proudly self-conscious of his precious load,
He paced, and loud his harness-bells resounded;
When suddenly upon their lonely road,
Both Mules and masters were by thieves surrounded.
The money-bearer soon was put to death:
"Is this the end that crowns my high career?
Yon drudge," he murmured with his latest breath,
"Escapes unhurt, while I must perish here!"
"My friend," his fellow-traveller made reply,
"Wealth cannot always at the poor man scoff.
If you had been content to do as I,
You'd not at present be so badly off."
FABLE V.
THE WOLF AND THE DOG.
A Wolf, who was but skin and bone,
So watchful had the sheep-dogs grown,
Once met a Mastiff fat and sleek,
Stern only to the poor and weak.
Sir Wolf would fain, no doubt, have munched
This pampered cur, and on him lunched;
But then the meal involved a fight,
And he was craven, save at night;
For such a dog could guard his throat
As well as any dog of note.
So the Wolf, humbly flattering him,
Praised the soft plumpness of each limb.
"You're wrong, you're wrong, my noble sir,
To roam in woods indeed you err,"
The dog replies, "you do indeed;
If you but wish, with me you'll feed.
Your comrades are a shabby pack,
Gaunt, bony, lean in side and back,
Pining for hunger, scurvy, hollow,
Fighting for every scrap they swallow.
Come, share my lot, and take your ease."
"What must I do to earn it, please?"
"Do?--why, do nothing! Beggar-men
Bark at and chase; fawn now and then
At friends; your master always flatter.
Do this, and by this little matter
Earn every sort of dainty dish--
Fowl-bones or pigeons'--what you wish--
Aye, better things; and with these messes,
Fondlings, and ceaseless kind caresses."
The Wolf, delighted, as he hears
Is deeply moved--almost to tears;
When all at once he sees a speck,
A gall upon the Mastiff's neck.
"What's that?"--"Oh, nothing!" "Nothing?"--"No!"
"A slight rub from the chain, you know."
"The chain!" replies the Wolf, aghast;
"You are not free?--they tie you fast?"
"Sometimes. But, law! what matters it?"--
"Matters so much, the rarest bit
Seems worthless, bought at such a price."
The Wolf, so saying, in a trice,
Ran off, and with the best goodwill,
And very likely's running still.
FABLE VI.
THE HEIFER, THE SHE-GOAT, AND THE LAMB, IN
PARTNERSHIP WITH THE LION.
The Heifer, Lamb, and Nanny-goat were neighbours,
With a huge Lion living close at hand,
They shared the gains and losses of their labours
(All this was long ago, you understand).
One day a stag was taken as their sport;
The Goat, who snared him, was of course enraptured,
And sent for all the partners of her toil,
In order to divide the treasure captured.
They came. The Lion, counting on his claws,
Quartered the prey, and thus addressed the trio--
"The parts are four. I take the first, because
I am your monarch, and my name is Leo:
Being the strongest, I annex the second;
As bravest, I can claim another share,
Should any touch the fourth, or say I reckoned
Unjustly, I shall kill him. So beware."
FABLE VII.
THE WALLET.
Said Jupiter one day, "Let all that breathe
Come and obeisance make before my throne.
If at his shape or being any grieve,
Let them cast fears aside. I'll hear their groan.
Come, Monkey, you be first to speak. You see
Of animals this goodly company;
Compare their beauties with your own.
Are you content?" "Why not? Good gracious me!"
The monkey said,
No whit afraid--
"Why not content? I have four feet like others,
My portrait no one sneers at--do they, brothers?
But cousin Bruins hurriedly sketched in,