Fables and Fabulists: Ancient and Modern

Our remarks on the fables of Pilpay are equally applicable to the 'Gesta Romanorum' or 'Entertaining Moral Stories' invented by the monks as a fireside recreation in the Middle Ages. Most of them are recitals of adventures rather than fables. They are believed to be of English origin, though a similar 'Gesta,' composed of stories in imitation of them, appeared in Germany about the same time. The taste displayed in many of them is of a questionable kind, and an outrageous twist is often given to their application; though doubtless they are a truthful reflex of the ideas and manners of the age in which they were composed and rehearsed, and in that respect they are of the utmost interest and value. Most of the fables or tales in the 'Gesta' begin well, and with a promise of interest. This interest, it must be said, is rarely maintained, for, as a rule, their conclusion is insipid, and sometimes inane. This notwithstanding, they are valuable by reason of their suggestiveness. The two examples we quote, translated from the Latin by the Rev. Charles Swan, are not faultless, but they are coherent throughout, and have a rounded literary finish in which many of the others are wanting. The first is entitled Of Perfect Life:

'When Titus was Emperor of Rome, he made a decree that the natal day of his first-born son should be held sacred, and that whosoever violated it by any kind of labour should be put to death. This edict being promulgated, he called Virgil, the learned man, to him, and said, "Good friend, I have established a certain law, but as offences may frequently be committed without being discovered by the ministers of justice, I desire you to frame some curious piece of art which may reveal to me every transgressor of the law." Virgil replied, "Sire, your will shall be accomplished." He straightway constructed a magic statue, and caused it to be erected in the midst of the city. By virtue of the secret powers with which it was invested, it communicated to the Emperor whatever offences were committed in secret on that day. And thus, by the accusation of the statue, an infinite number of persons were convicted.

'Now, there was a certain carpenter, called Focus, who pursued his occupation every day alike. Once, as he lay in his bed, his thoughts turned upon the accusations of the statue, and the multitudes which it had caused to perish. In the morning he clothed himself, and proceeded to the statue, which he addressed in the following manner: "O statue! statue! because of thy informations, many of our citizens have been apprehended and slain. I vow to my God that, if thou accusest me, I will break thy head." Having so said, he returned home. About the first hour, the Emperor, as he was wont, despatched sundry messengers to the statue to inquire if the edict had been strictly complied with. After they had arrived and delivered the Emperor's pleasure, the statue exclaimed, "Friends, look up: what see ye written upon my forehead?" They looked, and beheld three sentences, which ran thus: "Times are altered. Men grow worse. He who speaks truth will have his head broken." "Go," said the statue; "declare to his majesty what you have seen and read." The messengers obeyed, and detailed the circumstances as they had happened.

'The Emperor thereupon commanded his guard to arm, and march to the place on which the statue was erected; and he further ordered that, if any one presumed to molest it, they should bind him hand and foot and drag him into his presence. The soldiers approached the statue, and said: "Our Emperor wills you to declare who have broken the law, and who they are that threatened you." The statue made answer, "Seize Focus, the carpenter! Every day he violates the law, and, moreover, menaces me." Immediately Focus was apprehended and conducted to the Emperor, who said, "Friend, what do I hear of thee? Why dost thou break my law?" "My lord," answered Focus, "I cannot keep it; for I am obliged to obtain every day eight pennies, which, without incessant labour, I have not the means of acquiring." "And why eight pennies?" said the Emperor. "Every day through the year," returned the carpenter, "I am bound to repay two pennies which I borrowed in my youth; two I lend; two I lose; and two I spend." "You must make this more clear," said the Emperor. "My lord," he replied, "listen to me. I am bound each day to repay two pennies to my father; for when I was a boy my father expended upon me daily the like sum. Now he is poor, and needs my assistance, and therefore I return what I borrowed formerly. Two other pennies I lend to my son, who is pursuing his studies, in order that, if by any chance I should fall into poverty, he may restore the loan, just as I have done to his grandfather. Again, I lose two pennies every day on my wife; for she is contradictious, wilful, and passionate. Now, because of this disposition, I account whatsoever is given to her entirely lost. Lastly, two other pennies I expend upon myself in meat and drink, I cannot do with less; nor can I obtain them without unremitting labour. You now know the truth, and I pray you give a righteous judgment." "Friend," said the Emperor, "thou hast answered well. Go, and labour earnestly in thy calling." Soon after this the Emperor died, and Focus the carpenter, on account of his singular wisdom, was elected in his stead, by the unanimous choice of the whole nation. He governed as wisely as he had lived; and at his death his picture, bearing on the head eight pennies, was reposited among the effigies of the deceased Emperors.

'Application: My beloved, the Emperor is God, who appointed Sunday as a day of rest. By Virgil is typified the Holy Spirit, which ordains a preacher to declare men's virtues and vices. Focus is any good Christian who labours diligently in his vocation, and performs faithfully every relative duty.'

The story has point and humour, but in the latter quality it is surpassed by the next one, entitled Confession.

'A certain Emperor, named Asmodeus, established an ordinance, by which every malefactor taken and brought before the judge should, if he distinctly declared three truths, against which no exception could be taken, obtain his life and property. It chanced that a certain soldier transgressed the law and fled. He hid himself in a forest, and there committed many atrocities, despoiling and slaying whomsoever he could lay his hands upon. When the judge of the district ascertained his haunt, he ordered the forest to be surrounded, and the soldier to be seized and brought bound to the seat of judgment. "You know the law," said the judge. "I do," returned the other: "If I declare three unquestionable truths, I shall be free; but if not, I must die." "True," replied the judge; "take, then, advantage of the law's clemency, or this very day you shall not taste food until you are hanged." "Cause silence to be kept," said the soldier. His wish being complied with, he proceeded in the following manner. "The first truth is this: I protest before ye all, that from my youth up I have been a bad man." The judge, hearing this, said to the bystanders: "He says true, else he had not now been in this situation. Go on, then," continued the judge; "what is the second truth?" "I like not," exclaimed he, "the dangerous situation in which I stand." "Certainly," said the judge, "we may credit thee. Now then for the third truth, and thou hast saved thy life." "Why," he replied, "if I once get out of this confounded place, I will never willingly re-enter it." "Amen," said the judge, "thy wit hath preserved thee; go in peace." And thus he was saved.

'Application: My beloved, the emperor is Christ. The soldier is any sinner; the judge is a wise confessor. If the sinner confess the truth in such a manner as not even demons can object, he shall be saved; that is, if he confess and repent.'

The 'Gesta' is a rich storehouse from which many poets, including Gower, Chaucer, Spenser, Shakespeare, Parnell, and others, have borrowed. Shakespeare's 'Pericles' has its source in the 'Gesta'; so also Parnell's delightful poem, 'The Hermit,' and Dr. John Byrom's 'Three Black Crows' are from the same prolific treasure-house.

CHAPTER XII

MODERN FABULISTS: LA FONTAINE, GAY

'Lie gently on their ashes, gentle earth.'Beaumont and Fletcher.

It is a remarkable circumstance in connection with the literature of fable, that those who have excelled in it are comparatively few. The principal names that occur to us are Æsop, La Fontaine, Gay, Lessing, Krilof; 'the rest are all but leather or prunello,' if we except a few rare examples from Northcote and Cowper. The composition of fables seems to call for the exercise of a talent which is peculiar and rare. La Fontaine says54 that the writing of apologues is a gift sent down from the immortals. Not even those who have practised the art have always succeeded in it to perfection. Gay, who is esteemed the best of the English fabulists, is often prolix and lacking in point. La Fontaine, sprightly as are his renderings of the ancient fables which he found ready to his hand, is weak and commonplace in his attempts at originality. Dodsley is too didactic and goody-goody; Northcote is stilted, and often unnatural. Even Krilof, admirable as he generally is, is sometimes darkly obscure, and his moral difficult to find. Lessing comes nearest to the terseness and concentration of the Æsopian model, but many of his so-called fables are better described as epigrams and witticisms. True, all these writers have sometimes, like the Phrygian, 'hit the mark,' but oftener they have missed not only the bull's-eye, but the target itself; and the arrows of their satire are frequently lost in the mazes of verbiage. Æsop alone is in the fable what Shakespeare is in the drama, a paragon without a peer, and all competitors with either of these master minds must be content to take a lower place – to stand on a lower plane.

Excellent as many modern fables fare, full of instruction and entertainment, it is but few of them that spontaneously recur to us in connection with the affairs of daily life.

Amongst modern fabulists, La Fontaine stands in the front rank. Jean de la Fontaine was born at Chateau-Thierry on July 8, 1621; died in Paris, March 15, 1695,55 in his seventy-fourth year; and was buried in the cemetery of St. Joseph, near the remains of his friend Molière. He was one of the galaxy of great men and writers that adorned the age of Louis XIV. His fables, as is well known, are in verse, and include the best of those from ancient sources, with others of his own invention. He may be said to have turned Æsop into rhyme. The happy spirit of the genial Frenchman inspires them all. They are written with a vivacity and sprightliness all his own, and these qualities, with the humour which he infuses into them, make their perusal exhilarating and health-giving.

'I have considered,' says he, 'that as these fables are already known to all the world, I should have done nothing if I had not rendered them in some degree new, by clothing them with certain fresh characteristics. I have endeavoured to meet the wants of the day, which are novelty and gaiety; and by gaiety I do not mean merely that which excites laughter, but a certain charm, an agreeable air, which may be given to every species of subject, even the most serious.'56 He had attained to middle age before he found his true vocation in literature, his first collection of fables in six books being published in 1668, when he was forty-seven years of age.

La Fontaine is well known in this country by the English translations of his work. A version containing some of his best fables was published anonymously in 1820, but is known to be from the pen of John Matthews of Herefordshire. In his preface, Matthews states that the fables are not altogether a translation or an imitation of La Fontaine, because in most of them are allusions to public characters and the events of the times, where they are suggested by the subject. These allusions are largely political. The fables, apart from these ephemeral references to personages and events, are written with great cleverness and vivacity, full of humour, and in many instances are well suited for recitation.

The Fox and the Stork is a good example of his style:

'For sport once Renard, sly old sinner,Press'd gossip Stork to share his dinner."Neighbour, I must entreat you'll stayAnd take your soup with me to-day.My praise shall not my fare enhance,But let me beg you'll take your chance;You're kindly welcome were it better."She yielded as he thus beset her,And soon arrived the pottage smokingIn plates of shallow depth provoking.'Twas vain the guest essay'd to fillWith unsubstantial fare her bill.'Twas vain she fish'd to find a collop,The host soon lapp'd the liquor all up.Dame Stork conceal'd her deep displeasure,But thought to find revenge at leisure;And said, "Ere long, my friend, you'll tryMy humble hospitality.I know your taste, and we'll contrive —To-morrow I'm at home at five."With punctual haste the wily scofferAccepts his neighbour's friendly offer,And ent'ring cries, "Dear Stork, how is it?You see I soon return your visit,I can't resist when you invite;I've brought a famous appetite.The steam which issues from your kitchenProves that your pot there's something rich in."The Stork with civil welcome greeted,And soon at table they were seated,When lo! there came upon the boardHash'd goose in two tall pitchers pour'd —Pitchers whose long and narrow neckSly Renard's jaws completely check,Whilst the gay hostess, much diverted,Her bill with perfect ease inserted.The Fox, half mad at this retorter,Sought dinner in some other quarter.Hoaxers, for you this tale is written,Learn hence that biters may be bitten.'

Matthews adds this note: 'Hoaxers, for you, this tale is written. The word "hoax," though sufficiently expressive, and admitted into general use, has not, perhaps, found its way into the dictionaries. It is, however, of some importance, as it serves in some measure to characterize the times we live in. Former periods have been distinguished by the epithets golden, silver, brazen, iron. Notwithstanding the multiplicity of metals which chemistry has now discovered, none of them may be sufficiently descriptive of the manners of men in these days. Quitting, therefore, the ancient mode of classification, the present may not be unaptly designated the hoaxing age. The term deserves a definition. A hoax may be said to be a practical joke, calculated more or less to injure its object, sometimes accompanied by a high degree of criminality. This definition, which is much at the service of future English lexicographers, includes not only the minor essays of mischievous humour, which assembles all the schoolmasters of the Metropolis at one house; the medical professors and undertakers at another; the milliners, mantua-makers, and mercers at a third; whilst the street before the victim's door is blocked up by grand pianofortes, Grecian couches, caravans of wild beasts, and patent coffins; but also the more sublime strokes of genius, which would acquire sudden wealth by throwing Change Alley into an uproar – which would gain excessive popularity by gulling the English people with a show of mock patriotism – which can make bankrupts in fortune and reputation leaders of thousands and tens of thousands, so as to threaten destruction to the State. The performers of all these notable exploits may be denominated hoaxers, most of whom may, in the end, find themselves involved in the predicament expressed in the concluding couplet of the fable.'

We are tempted to give another very fine example from Matthews, containing as it does an interesting reference to the two mighty men of letters of the first quarter of the present century —The Viper and the File:

'A Viper chanc'd his head to popInto a neighbouring blacksmith's shop.Long near the place had he been lurking,And stayed till past the hours for working.As with keen eyes he glanc'd aroundIn search of food, a File he found:Of meats he saw no single itemWhich tempted hungry jaws to bite 'em.So with his fangs the eager foolAttack'd the rough impassive tool;And whilst his wounded palate bled,Fancied on foreign gore he fed.When thus the File retorted coolly:"Viper! this work's ingenious, truly!No more those idle efforts try;Proof 'gainst assaults like yours am I.On me you'd fracture ev'ry bone;I feel the teeth of Time alone."Thus did a Poet,57 vain and young(Who since has palinody sung),His fangs upon a Minstrel's lay58Fix hard. 'Twas labour thrown away!On that sweet Bard of Doric strainThis venom'd bite was tried in vain:His flights, thro' no dark medium view'd,Derive from fog no magnitude;But bright and clear to charm our eyesHis vivid pictures boldly rise.In painting manners, arms, and dress, sureTime show'd him all his form and pressure.Bard of the North! thou still shalt beA File to Critics, harsh as he.Tho' Time has teeth, thou need'st not fear 'em;Thy verse defies old Edax Rerum!'

It must be confessed that the general moral here is not very obvious, though the special application of the fable to the circumstances of Byron's attack on Scott, and his subsequent recantation – with the fabulist's eulogy of the 'Bard of the North' – are expressed in charming and faultless verse.

John Gay, who was born in the parish of Landkey, near Barnstaple, Devonshire, in 1685, and died in London, on December 4, 1732, aged forty-seven, is, without question, the best of the English fabulists. Unlike most writers in this department of literature, his fables are almost all original. His language is choice and elegant, yet well suited to his subject. His rhymes are perfect, and at times he almost rises into poetry. His fables, however, are lacking in humour, and they have not that abounding esprit and naïveté which characterize La Fontaine.

Gay was a writer of much industry,59 producing during his lifetime almost every species of composition. His 'Beggar's Opera' is yet occasionally seen on the stage, and this, after his fables, is his best-known work.

He was essentially Bohemian in disposition and habits, and lacking in business capacity; a man of culture, however, a pleasant companion, and a warm-hearted friend. He was on intimate terms with Pope, Swift, Arbuthnot, and other distinguished men of letters and wits of his day, and the eccentric but kind-hearted Duchess of Queensberry was his patron and friend. Unfortunately, he was too much given to dangling at the skirts of the great, and sueing for place at Court instead of depending on his own genius, which was unquestionably of no mean order. Notwithstanding this failing, he was no sycophant or flatterer, but exposed the follies and vices of human nature, as exemplified in the characters of the rich and great, as in those of the humbler ranks, without fear or favour. His best-known fables are probably The Hare and many Friends, and The Miser and Plutus.

Many of Gay's lines, both from his fables and plays, have become widely popular, for example:

'Princes, like beauties, from their youthAre strangers to the voice of truth.Learn to contemn all praise betimes,For Flattery's the nurse of crimes.''In every age and clime we seeTwo of a trade can ne'er agree.''While there's life there's hope.''Those who in quarrels interposeMust often wipe a bloody nose.''When a lady's in the caseYou know all other things give place.''And what's a butterfly? At bestHe's but a caterpillar dressed.'''Tis woman that seduces all mankind.''How happy could I be with eitherWere t'other dear charmer away.'

And his own epitaph, written by himself:

'Life's a jest, and all things show it;I thought so once, and now I know it.'

In the letter to Pope in which this distich is given, he says: 'If anybody should ask how I could communicate this after death, let it be known it is not meant so, but my present sentiments in life.'

Gay was buried in Westminster Abbey. The monument which marks his grave bears the well-known lines composed by Pope:

'Of manners gentle, of Affections mild,In wit a Man, simplicity, a child;With native Humour, temp'ring Virtuous Rage,Formed to delight at once and lash the Age:Above Temptation in a low Estate,And uncorrupted, e'en among the great.A safe Companion, and an easy Friend,Unblam'd thro' life, lamented in thy End.These are thy Honours! Not that here thy BustIs mix'd with Heroes, or with Kings thy Dust:But that the Worthy and the Good shall say,Striking their pensive bosoms, – here lies Gay.'

The piece we have selected, The Miser and Plutus, as an example of his work as a fabulist, is in his best style, and the moral is irreproachable:

'The wind was high, the window shakes,With sudden start the Miser wakes;Along the silent room he stalks,Looks back, and trembles as he walks.Each lock and every bolt he tries,In every creek and corner pries;Then opes the chest with treasure stor'd,And stands in rapture o'er his hoard:But now with sudden qualms possest,He wrings his hands, he beats his breast;By conscience stung he wildly stares,And thus his guilty soul declares:"Had the deep earth her stores confin'd,This heart had known sweet peace of mind.But virtue's sold. Good gods! what priceCan recompense the pangs of vice?O bane of good! seducing cheat!Can man, weak man, thy power defeat?Gold banish'd honour from the mind,And only left the name behind;Gold sow'd the world with every ill;Gold taught the murderer's sword to kill.'Twas gold instructed coward heartsIn treachery's more pernicious arts.Who can recount the mischiefs o'er?Virtue resides on earth no more!"He spoke, and sighed. In angry moodPlutus, his god, before him stood.The Miser, trembling, locked his chest;The Vision frowned, and thus address'd:"Whence is this vile ungrateful rant,Each sordid rascal's daily cant?Did I, base wretch! corrupt mankind?The fault's in thy rapacious mind.Because my blessings are abused,Must I be censur'd, curs'd, accus'd?Ev'n virtue's self by knaves is madeA cloak to carry on the trade;And power (when lodg'd in their possession)Grows tyranny, and rank oppression.Thus when the villain crams his chest,Gold is the canker of the breast;'Tis avarice, insolence, and pride,And ev'ry shocking vice beside;But when to virtuous hands 'tis given,It blesses, like the dews of Heaven;Like Heaven, it hears the orphan's cries,And wipes the tears from widows' eyes.Their crimes on gold shall misers lay,Who pawn'd their sordid souls for pay?Let bravos, then, when blood is spilt,Upbraid the passive sword with guilt."'

CHAPTER XIII

MODERN FABULISTS: DODSLEY, NORTHCOTE

'A tale may find him who a sermon flies.'George Herbert.

Robert Dodsley, born at Mansfield, Nottinghamshire, in 1703, died at Durham, December 25, 1764, buried in the abbey churchyard there, author of 'The Economy of Human Life' and other estimable works, compiled a volume of fables (1761). This was the favourite collection in this country at the end of last and the beginning of the present century. The contents of the volume are in three parts, and comprise 'Ancient Fables,' 'Modern Fables,' and 'Fables Newly Invented.' The first two divisions of the volume are Æsopian in character. The fables contained in the last were not all written by Dodsley, some of them being contributed, as he states in his preface, 'by authors with whom it is an honour to be connected, and who having condescended to favour him with their assistance, have given him an opportunity of making some atonement for his own defects.' It is to be regretted that he did not give the names of the authors referred to. The work contains a life of Æsop 'by a learned friend' (no name given),60 and an excellent, though somewhat pedantic, 'Essay on Fable.'

The following are three original fables from Dodsley's collection:

'The Miser and the Magpie.– As a miser sat at his desk counting over his heaps of gold, a magpie eloped from his cage, picked up a guinea, and hopped away with it. The miser, who never failed to count his money over a second time, immediately missed the piece, and rising up from his seat in the utmost consternation, observed the felon hiding it in a crevice of the floor. "And art thou," cried he, "that worst of thieves, who hast robbed me of my gold without the plea of necessity, and without regard to its proper use? But thy life shall atone for so preposterous a villainy." "Soft words, good master!" quoth the magpie. "Have I, then, injured you in any other sense than you defraud the public? And am I not using your money in the same manner you do yourself? If I must lose my life for hiding a single guinea, what do you, I pray, deserve, who secrete so many thousands?"'