Fables of La Fontaine Part 13

Is this, indeed, the mercy which these rustics Show to their honest, faithful, old domestics?

If to the fair these lazy fellows ride, 'Twill be to sell thereat the donkey's hide!"

"Zounds!" cried the miller, "precious little brains Hath he who takes, to please the world, such pains; But since we're in, we'll try what can be done."

So off the a.s.s they jump'd, himself and son, And, like a prelate, donkey march'd alone.

Another man they met. "These folks," said he, "Enslave themselves to let their a.s.s go free-- The darling brute! If I might be so bold, I'd counsel them to have him set in gold.

Not so went Nicholas his Jane[4] to woo, Who rode, we sing, his a.s.s to save his shoe."

"a.s.s! a.s.s!" our man replied; "we're a.s.ses three!

I do avow myself an a.s.s to be; But since my sage advisers can't agree, Their words henceforth shall not be heeded; I'll suit myself." And he succeeded.

'For you, choose army, love, or court; In town, or country, make resort; Take wife, or cowl; ride you, or walk; Doubt not but tongues will have their talk.'

[1] The story of this fable has been used by most of the fabulists, from Aesop downwards.

[2] In the original editions this fable is dedicated "A. M. D. M." which initials stand for "To M. De Maucroix," Canon of Rheims, an early and late friend and patron of the poet. See Translator's Preface.

[3] _Old Malherbe and young Racan._--French poets. Malherbe was born in 1556, and died in 1628. La Fontaine owed to Malherbe's works the happy inspiration which led him to write poetry. See Translator's Preface. Honorat de Bueil, Marquis de Racan, was born at La Roche Racan in 1589. As a poet he was a pupil of Malherbe. His works were praised by Boileau, and he was one of the earliest members of the French Academy.

[4] _Nicholas and his Jane._--An allusion to an old French song.

II.--THE MEMBERS AND THE BELLY.[5]

Perhaps, had I but shown due loyalty, This book would have begun with royalty, Of which, in certain points of view, Boss[6] Belly is the image true, In whose bereavements all the members share: Of whom the latter once so weary were, As all due service to forbear, On what they called his idle plan, Resolved to play the gentleman, And let his lords.h.i.+p live on air.

'Like burden-beasts,' said they, 'We sweat from day to day; And all for whom, and what?

Ourselves we profit not.

Our labour has no object but one, That is, to feed this lazy glutton.

We'll learn the resting trade By his example's aid.'

So said, so done; all labour ceased; The hands refused to grasp, the arms to strike; All other members did the like.

Their boss might labour if he pleased!

It was an error which they soon repented, With pain of languid poverty acquainted.

The heart no more the blood renew'd, And hence repair no more accrued To ever-wasting strength; Whereby the mutineers, at length, Saw that the idle belly, in its way, Did more for common benefit than they.

For royalty our fable makes, A thing that gives as well as takes Its power all labour to sustain, Nor for themselves turns out their labour vain.

It gives the artist bread, the merchant riches; Maintains the diggers in their ditches; Pays man of war and magistrate; Supports the swarms in place, That live on sovereign grace; In short, is caterer for the state.

Menenius[7] told the story well: When Rome, of old, in pieces fell, The commons parting from the senate.

'The ills,' said they, 'that we complain at Are, that the honours, treasures, power, and dignity, Belong to them alone; while we Get nought our labour for But tributes, taxes, and fatigues of war.'

Without the walls the people had their stand Prepared to march in search of other land, When by this noted fable Menenius was able To draw them, hungry, home To duty and to Rome.[8]

[5] Aesop. Rabelais also has a version: Book III. ch. 3.

[6] _Boss_.--A word probably more familiar to hod-carriers than to lexicographers; qu. derived from the French _bosseman_, or the English _boatswain_, p.r.o.nounced _bos'n_? It denotes a "master" of some practical "art." Master Belly, says Rabelais, was the first Master of Arts in the world.--Translator. The name used by La Fontaine is "Messer Gaster." To which he puts a footnote stating that he meant "L'estomac." He took the name from Rabelais, Book IV., ch. 57, where it occurs thus:--"Messer Gaster est le premier maitre es arts de ce monde.... Son mandement est nomme: Faire le fault, sans delay, ou mourir."

[7] _Menenius_.--See Translator's Preface.

[8] _Rome_.--According to our republican notions of government, these people were somewhat imposed upon. Perhaps the fable finds a more appropriate application in the relation of employer to employed.

I leave the fabulists and the political economists to settle the question between them.--Translator.

III.--THE WOLF TURNED SHEPHERD.[9]

A wolf, whose gettings from the flocks Began to be but few, Bethought himself to play the fox In character quite new.

A shepherd's hat and coat he took, A cudgel for a crook, Nor e'en the pipe forgot: And more to seem what he was not, Himself upon his hat he wrote, 'I'm Willie, shepherd of these sheep.'

His person thus complete, His crook in upraised feet, The impostor Willie stole upon the keep.

The real Willie, on the gra.s.s asleep, Slept there, indeed, profoundly, His dog and pipe slept, also soundly; His drowsy sheep around lay.

As for the greatest number, Much bless'd the hypocrite their slumber, And hoped to drive away the flock, Could he the shepherd's voice but mock.

He thought undoubtedly he could.

He tried: the tone in which he spoke, Loud echoing from the wood, The plot and slumber broke; Sheep, dog, and man awoke.

The wolf, in sorry plight, In hampering coat bedight, Could neither run nor fight.

There's always leakage of deceit Which makes it never safe to cheat.

Whoever is a wolf had better Keep clear of hypocritic fetter.

[9] The story of this fable is traced to Verdizotti, an Italian poet who lived about 1535-1600.

IV.--THE FROGS ASKING A KING.[10]

A certain commonwealth aquatic, Grown tired of order democratic, By clamouring in the ears of Jove, effected Its being to a monarch's power subjected.

Jove flung it down, at first, a king pacific.

Who nathless fell with such a splash terrific, The marshy folks, a foolish race and timid, Made breathless haste to get from him hid.

They dived into the mud beneath the water, Or found among the reeds and rushes quarter.

And long it was they dared not see The dreadful face of majesty, Supposing that some monstrous frog Had been sent down to rule the bog.

The king was really a log, Whose gravity inspired with awe The first that, from his hiding-place Forth venturing, astonish'd, saw The royal blockhead's face.

With trembling and with fear, At last he drew quite near.

Another follow'd, and another yet, Till quite a crowd at last were met; Who, growing fast and strangely bolder, Perch'd soon upon the royal shoulder.

His gracious majesty kept still, And let his people work their will.

Clack, clack! what din beset the ears of Jove?

'We want a king,' the people said, 'to move!'

The G.o.d straight sent them down a crane, Who caught and slew them without measure, And gulp'd their carca.s.ses at pleasure; Whereat the frogs more wofully complain.

'What! what!' great Jupiter replied; 'By your desires must I be tied?

Think you such government is bad?

You should have kept what first you had; Which having blindly fail'd to do, It had been prudent still for you To let that former king suffice, More meek and mild, if not so wise.

With this now make yourselves content, Lest for your sins a worse be sent.'

[10] Aesop: Phaedrus, I. 2.

V.--THE FOX AND THE GOAT.[11]

A fox once journey'd, and for company A certain bearded, horned goat had he; Which goat no further than his nose could see.

The fox was deeply versed in trickery.

These travellers did thirst compel To seek the bottom of a well.

There, having drunk enough for two, Says fox, 'My friend, what shall we do?

'Tis time that we were thinking Of something else than drinking.

Raise you your feet upon the wall, And stick your horns up straight and tall; Then up your back I'll climb with ease, And draw you after, if you please.'

'Yes, by my beard,' the other said, ''Tis just the thing. I like a head Well stock'd with sense, like thine.

Had it been left to mine, I do confess, I never should have thought of this.'