Many things appear feasible in speculation, which are afterwards found to be impracticable. And since the execution of anything is that which is to complete and finish its very existence, what raw counsellors are those who advise, what precipitate politicians those who proceed, to the management of things in their nature incapable of answering their own expectations, or their promises to others. At the same time, the Fable teaches us not to expose ourselves in any of our little politic coffee-house committees, by determining what should be done upon every occurrence of maladministration, when we have neither commission nor power to execute it. He that, upon such occasion, adjudges, as a preservative for the state, that this or that should be applied to the neck of those who have been enemies to it, will appear full as ridiculous as the Mouse in the Fable, when the question is asked, Who shall put it there? In reality we do but expose ourselves to the hatred of some, and the contempt of others, when we inadvertently utter our impracticable speculations, in respect of the public, either in private company or authorised assemblies.
Fable XLVII.
The Old Man and Death.
A poor feeble old man, who had crawled out into a neighbouring wood to gather a few sticks, had made up his bundle, and, laying it over his shoulders, was trudging homeward with it; but, what with age, and the length of the way, and the weight of his burden, he grew so faint and weak that he sunk under it; and, as he sat on the ground, called upon Death to come, once for all, and ease him of his troubles. Death no sooner heard him, but he came and demanded of him what he wanted. The poor old creature, who little thought Death had been so near, and frightened almost out of his senses with his terrible aspect, answered him trembling: That having by chance let his bundle of sticks fall, and being too infirm to get it up himself, he had made bold to call upon him to help him; that, indeed, this was all he wanted at present; and that he hoped his Worship was not offended with him for the liberty he had taken in so doing.
Morals.
Men under calamity may seem to wish for death; but they seldom bid him welcome when he stares them in the face.
“Oh with what joy would I resign my breath!”
The wretch exclaims, and prays for instant death:
The fiend approaching, he inverts his pray’r,