Fables of La Fontaine Part 57

Pray quit this wolfs.h.i.+p, now you can, And leave the woods an honest man.'

'But is there one?' the wolf replied: 'Such man, I own, I never spied.

You treat me as a ravenous beast, But what are you? To say the least, You would yourself have eat the sheep, Which, eat by me, the village weep.

Now, truly, on your faith confess, Should I, as man, love flesh the less?

Why, man, not seldom, kills his very brother; What, then, are you but wolves to one another?

Now, everything with care to scan, And rogue with rogue to rate, I'd better be a wolf than man, And need not change my state.'

Thus all did wise Ulysses try, And got from all the same reply, As well from great as small.

Wild liberty was dear to all; To follow lawless appet.i.te They counted their supreme delight.

All banish'd from their thought and care The glorious praise of actions fair.

Where pa.s.sion led, they thought their course was free; Self-bound, their chains they could not see.

Prince, I had wish'd for you a theme to choose, Where I might mingle pleasantry with use; And I should meet with your approving voice, No doubt, if I could make such choice.

At last, Ulysses' crew Were offer'd to my view.

And there are like them not a few, Who may for penalty await Your censure and your hate.[3]

[1] _Duke de Bourgogne_.--Louis Duke de Bourgogne (Burgundy), grandson of Louis XIV. He was the son of Louis de Bourbon, the Dauphin, to whom La Fontaine had dedicated the first collection of his Fables.

(See note, Dedication of Book I.) He was born in 1682, and at the time of this dedication was about twelve years of age, and the pupil of Fenelon. See Translator's Preface.

[2] _In war a hero_.--Louis, the Dauphin, father of the prince addressed. The Dauphin was then in command of the army in Germany.

[3] This fable was first printed in the _Mercure Galant_, December, 1690, where it had a few additional lines, which the author cut out on republication in his XIIth Book.

II.--THE CAT AND THE TWO SPARROWS.[4]

To Monseigneur The Duke De Bourgogne.

Contemporary with a sparrow tame There lived a cat; from tenderest age, Of both, the basket and the cage Had household G.o.ds the same.

The bird's sharp beak full oft provoked the cat, Who play'd in turn, but with a gentle pat, His wee friend sparing with a merry laugh, Not punis.h.i.+ng his faults by half.

In short, he scrupled much the harm, Should he with points his ferule arm.

The sparrow, less discreet than he, With dagger beak made very free.

Sir Cat, a person wise and staid, Excused the warmth with which he play'd: For 'tis full half of friends.h.i.+p's art To take no joke in serious part.

Familiar since they saw the light, Mere habit kept their friends.h.i.+p good; Fair play had never turn'd to fight, Till, of their neighbourhood, Another sparrow came to greet Old Ratto grave and saucy Pete.

Between the birds a quarrel rose, And Ratto took his side.

'A pretty stranger, with such blows To beat our friend!' he cried.

'A neighbour's sparrow eating ours!

Not so, by all the feline powers.'

And quick the stranger he devours.

'Now, truly,' saith Sir Cat, I know how sparrows taste by that.

Exquisite, tender, delicate!'

This thought soon seal'd the other's fate.-- But hence what moral can I bring?

For, lacking that important thing, A fable lacks its finis.h.i.+ng: I seem to see of one some trace, But still its shadow mocks my chase.

Yours, prince, it will not thus abuse: For you such sports, and not my muse.

In wit, she and her sisters eight Would fail to match you with a mate.

[4] The story of this fable seems to come from a fable by Furetiere, t.i.tled "The Dog and the Cat." Antony Furetiere was more famous as a lexicographer, and through his angry contention with the French Academy on the subject of his Dictionary, than as a poet. He lived between 1620 and 1688.

III.--THE MISER AND THE MONKEY.[5]

A man ama.s.s'd. The thing, we know, Doth often to a frenzy grow.

No thought had he but of his minted gold-- Stuff void of worth when unemploy'd, I hold.

Now, that this treasure might the safer be, Our miser's dwelling had the sea As guard on every side from every thief.

With pleasure, very small in my belief, But very great in his, he there Upon his h.o.a.rd bestow'd his care.

No respite came of everlasting Recounting, calculating, casting; For some mistake would always come To mar and spoil the total sum.

A monkey there, of goodly size,-- And than his lord, I think, more wise,-- Some doubloons from the window threw, And render'd thus the count untrue.

The padlock'd room permitted Its owner, when he quitted, To leave his money on the table.

One day, bethought this monkey wise To make the whole a sacrifice To Neptune on his throne unstable.

I could not well award the prize Between the monkey's and the miser's pleasure Derived from that devoted treasure.

With some, Don Bertrand, would the honour gain, For reasons it were tedious to explain.

One day, then, left alone, That animal, to mischief p.r.o.ne, Coin after coin detach'd, A gold jacobus s.n.a.t.c.h'd, Or Portuguese doubloon, Or silver ducatoon, Or n.o.ble, of the English rose, And flung with all his might Those discs, which oft excite The strongest wishes mortal ever knows.

Had he not heard, at last, The turning of his master's key, The money all had pa.s.s'd The same short road to sea; And not a single coin but had been pitch'd Into the gulf by many a wreck enrich'd.

Now, G.o.d preserve full many a financier Whose use of wealth may find its likeness here!

[5] The story is traced to the episode in Tristan L'Hermite's romance t.i.tled "Le Page disgracie," treating of "The Monkey and Master Robert." L'Hermite lived 1601-1655.

IV.--THE TWO GOATS.[6]

Since goats have browsed, by freedom fired, To follow fortune they've aspired.

To pasturage they're wont to roam Where men are least disposed to come.

If any pathless place there be, Or cliff, or pendent precipice, 'Tis there they cut their capers free: There's nought can stop these dames, I wis.

Two goats, thus self-emanc.i.p.ated,-- The white that on their feet they wore Look'd back to n.o.ble blood of yore,-- Once quit the lowly meadows, sated, And sought the hills, as it would seem: In search of luck, by luck they met Each other at a mountain stream.

As bridge a narrow plank was set, On which, if truth must be confest, Two weasels scarce could go abreast.

And then the torrent, foaming white, As down it tumbled from the height, Might well those Amazons affright.

But maugre such a fearful rapid, Both took the bridge, the goats intrepid!

I seem to see our Louis Grand[7]

And Philip IV. advance To the Isle of Conference,[8]

That lies 'twixt Spain and France, Each st.u.r.dy for his glorious land.

Thus each of our adventurers goes, Till foot to foot, and nose to nose, Somewhere about the midst they meet, And neither will an inch retreat.

For why? they both enjoy'd the glory Of ancestors in ancient story.

The one, a goat of peerless rank, Which, browsing on Sicilian bank, The Cyclop gave to Galataea;[9]

The other famous Amalthaea,[10]

The goat that suckled Jupiter, As some historians aver.

For want of giving back, in troth, A common fall involved them both.-- A common accident, no doubt, On Fortune's changeful route.[11]

[6] This and several others of the fables in the XIIth Book are taken from the "Themes" of the Duke de Bourgogne, afterwards published in Robert's "Fables Inedites." These "Themes," were the joint composition of Fenelon, his pupil the infant Duke de Bourgogne, and La Fontaine, and were first used in the education of the Duke.

Fenelon suggested the story, the pupil put it into prose, and La Fontaine versified it. La Fontaine is eulogistic of the young Duke's "wit" in putting these "Themes" into prose in Fable IX., Book XII.

[7] _Louis Grand_.--Louis XIV. See note to Epilogue of Book XI.

[8] _The Isle of Conference_.--The Pheasants' Isle in the river Bida.s.soa, which separates France and Spain. It is called the Isle of Conference on account of several of the Conferences, leading to Treaties, &c., between the two countries, having been held there.

[9] _The Cyclop gave to Galataea_.--Polyphemus and Galataea: _vide_ Theocritus, _Idyl_ XI.

[10] _Amalthaea_.--Another story is that Amalthaea was not a goat, but a nymph of Crete, who fed the infant Jupiter with goat's milk.

[11] In the original the last lines differ from those in the version of La Fontaine's "Oeuvres Posthumes," published in 1696, the year after the poet's death. Indeed, variations of text are common to most of the fables of the XIIth Book, on making the same comparison, viz., of the first edition, 1694, and the edition in the "Oeuvres Posthumes."