Fables of La Fontaine — a New Edition, with Notes

by Jean de La Fontaine

The wolf and fox are neighbours strange:
I would not build within their range.
The fox once eyed with strict regard
From day to day, a poultry-yard;
But though a most accomplish'd cheat,
He could not get a fowl to eat.
Between the risk and appetite,
His rogueship's trouble was not slight.
'Alas!' quoth he, 'this stupid rabble
But mock me with their constant gabble;
I go and come, and rack my brains,
And get my labour for my pains.
Your rustic owner, safe at home,
Takes all the profits as they come:
He sells his capons and his chicks,
Or keeps them hanging on his hook,
All dress'd and ready for his cook;
But I, adept in art and tricks,
Should I but catch the toughest crower,
Should be brimful of joy, and more.
O Jove supreme! why was I made
A master of the fox's trade?
By all the higher powers, and lower,
I swear to rob this chicken-grower!'
Revolving such revenge within,
When night had still'd the various din,
And poppies seem'd to bear full sway
O'er man and dog, as lock'd they lay
Alike secure in slumber deep,
And cocks and hens were fast asleep,
Upon the populous roost he stole.
By negligence,--a common sin,--
The farmer left unclosed the hole,
And, stooping down, the fox went in.
The blood of every fowl was spill'd,
The citadel with murder fill'd.
The dawn disclosed sad sights, I ween,
When heaps on slaughter'd heaps were seen,
All weltering in their mingled gore.
With horror stricken, as of yore,
The sun well nigh shrunk back again,
To hide beneath the liquid main.
Such sight once saw the Trojan plain,
When on the fierce Atrides'[[5]] head
Apollo's awful anger fell,
And strew'd the crimson field with dead:
Of Greeks, scarce one was left to tell
The carnage of that night so dread.
Such slaughter, too, around his tent,
The furious Ajax made, one night,
Of sheep and goats, in easy fight;
In anger blindly confident
That by his well-directed blows
Ulysses fell, or some of those
By whose iniquity and lies
That wily rival took the prize.
The fox, thus having Ajax play'd,
Bore off the nicest of the brood,--
As many pullets as he could,--
And left the rest, all prostrate laid.
The owner found his sole resource
His servants and his dog to curse.
'You useless puppy, better drown'd!
Why did you not your 'larum sound?'
'Why did you not the evil shun,'
Quoth Towser, 'as you might have done?
If you, whose interest was more,
Could sleep and leave an open door,
Think you that I, a dog at best,
Would watch, and lose my precious rest?'
This pithy speech had been, in truth,
Good logic in a master's mouth;
But, coming from a menial's lip,
It even lack'd the lawyership
To save poor Towser from the whip.
O thou who head'st a family,
(An honour never grudged by me,)
Thou art a patriarch unwise,
To sleep, and trust another's eyes.
Thyself shouldst go to bed the last,
Thy doors all seen to, shut and fast.
I charge you never let a fox see
Your special business done by proxy.

[[4]] Abstemius.
[[5]] Atrides.--Atreus, or Atrides, king of Mycenae, and grandfather of Agamemnon. He caused his brother Theyestes to banquet on the flesh of his own children. After the repast, proceeds the story, the arms and heads of the murdered children were produced to convince Theyestes of what he had feasted on; and at the deed "the sun shrunk back in his course."

[IV].--THE MOGUL'S DREAM.[[6]]

Long since, a Mogul saw, in dream,
A vizier in Elysian bliss;
No higher joy could be or seem,
Or purer, than was ever his.
Elsewhere was dream'd of by the same
A wretched hermit wrapp'd in flame,
Whose lot e'en touch'd, so pain'd was he,
The partners of his misery.
Was Minos[[7]] mock'd? or had these ghosts,
By some mistake, exchanged their posts?
Surprise at this the vision broke;
The dreamer suddenly awoke.
Some mystery suspecting in it,
He got a wise one to explain it.
Replied the sage interpreter,
'Let not the thing a marvel seem:
There is a meaning in your dream:
If I have aught of knowledge, sir,
It covers counsel from the gods.
While tenanting these clay abodes,
This vizier sometimes gladly sought
The solitude that favours thought;
Whereas, the hermit, in his cot,
Had longings for a vizier's lot.'
To this interpretation dared I add,
The love of solitude I would inspire.
It satisfies the heart's desire
With unencumber'd gifts and glad--
Heaven-planted joys, of stingless sweet,
Aye springing up beneath our feet.
O Solitude! whose secret charms I know--
Retreats that I have loved--when shall I go
To taste, far from a world of din and noise,
Your shades so fresh, where silence has a voice?
When shall their soothing gloom my refuge be?
When shall the sacred Nine, from courts afar,
And cities with all solitude at war,
Engross entire, and teach their votary
The stealthy movements of the spangled nights,
The names and virtues of those errant lights
Which rule o'er human character and fate?
Or, if not born to purposes so great,
The streams, at least, shall win my heartfelt thanks,
While, in my verse, I paint their flowery banks.
Fate shall not weave my life with golden thread,
Nor, 'neath rich fret-work, on a purple bed,
Shall I repose, full late, my care-worn head.
But will my sleep be less a treasure?
Less deep, thereby, and full of pleasure?
I vow it, sweet and gentle as the dew,
Within those deserts sacrifices new;
And when the time shall come to yield my breath,
Without remorse I'll join the ranks of Death.[[8]]

[[6]] The original story of this fable is traced to Sadi, the Persian poet and fabulist, who flourished in the twelfth century. La Fontaine probably found it in the French edition of Sadi's "Gulistan; or the Garden of Flowers" which was published by André du Ryer in 1634.
[[7]] Minos.--Chief judge in the infernal regions.
[[8]] For some remarks upon this fable see Translator's Preface.

[V].--THE LION, THE MONKEY, AND THE TWO ASSES.[[9]]

The lion, for his kingdom's sake,
In morals would some lessons take,
And therefore call'd, one summer's day,
The monkey, master of the arts,
An animal of brilliant parts,
To hear what he could say.
'Great king,' the monkey thus began,
'To reign upon the wisest plan
Requires a prince to set his zeal,
And passion for the public weal,
Distinctly and quite high above
A certain feeling call'd self-love,
The parent of all vices,
In creatures of all sizes.
To will this feeling from one's breast away,
Is not the easy labour of a day;
'Tis much to moderate its tyrant sway.
By that your majesty august,
Will execute your royal trust,
From folly free and aught unjust.'
'Give me,' replied the king,
'Example of each thing.'
'Each species,' said the sage,--
'And I begin with ours,--
Exalts its own peculiar powers
Above sound reason's gauge.
Meanwhile, all other kinds and tribes
As fools and blockheads it describes,
With other compliments as cheap.
But, on the other hand, the same
Self-love inspires a beast to heap
The highest pyramid of fame
For every one that bears his name;
Because he justly deems such praise
The easiest way himself to raise.
'Tis my conclusion in the case,
That many a talent here below
Is but cabal, or sheer grimace,--
The art of seeming things to know--
An art in which perfection lies
More with the ignorant than wise.
'Two asses tracking, t'other day,
Of which each in his turn,
Did incense to the other burn,
Quite in the usual way,--
I heard one to his comrade say,
"My lord, do you not find
The prince of knaves and fools
To be this man, who boasts of mind
Instructed in his schools?
With wit unseemly and profane,
He mocks our venerable race--
On each of his who lacketh brain
Bestows our ancient surname, ass!
And, with abusive tongue portraying,
Describes our laugh and talk as braying!
These bipeds of their folly tell us,
While thus pretending to excel us."
"No, 'tis for you to speak, my friend,
And let their orators attend.
The braying is their own, but let them be:
We understand each other, and agree,
And that's enough. As for your song,
Such wonders to its notes belong,
The nightingale is put to shame,
And Lambert[[10]] loses half his fame."
"My lord," the other ass replied,
"Such talents in yourself reside,
Of asses all, the joy and pride."
These donkeys, not quite satisfied
With scratching thus each other's hide,
Must needs the cities visit,
Their fortunes there to raise,
By sounding forth the praise,
Each, of the other's skill exquisite.
Full many, in this age of ours,--
Not only among asses,
But in the higher classes,
Whom Heaven hath clothed with higher powers,--
Dared they but do it, would exalt
A simple innocence from fault,
Or virtue common and domestic,
To excellence majestic.
I've said too much, perhaps; but I suppose
Your majesty the secret won't disclose,
Since 'twas your majesty's request that I
This matter should exemplify.
How love of self gives food to ridicule,
I've shown. To prove the balance of my rule,
That justice is a sufferer thereby,
A longer time will take.'
'Twas thus the monkey spake.
But my informant does not state,
That e'er the sage did demonstrate
The other point, more delicate.
Perhaps he thought none but a fool
A lion would too strictly school.

[[9]] This fable is founded upon the Latin proverb Asinus asinum fricat.
[[10]] Lambert.--This was Michael Lambert, master of chamber-music to Louis XIV., and brother-in-law to the Grand Monarque's other great music man, J. B. Lulli, who was chapel-music master.

[VI].--THE WOLF AND THE FOX.

Why Aesop gave the palm of cunning,
O'er flying animals and running,
To Renard Fox, I cannot tell,
Though I have search'd the subject well.
Hath not Sir Wolf an equal skill
In tricks and artifices shown,
When he would do some life an ill,
Or from his foes defend his own?
I think he hath; and, void of disrespect,
I might, perhaps, my master contradict:
Yet here's a case, in which the burrow-lodger
Was palpably, I own, the brightest dodger.
One night he spied within a well,
Wherein the fullest moonlight fell,
What seem'd to him an ample cheese.
Two balanced buckets took their turns
When drawers thence would fill their urns.
Our fox went down in one of these,
By hunger greatly press'd to sup,
And drew the other empty up.
Convinced at once of his mistake,
And anxious for his safety's sake,
He saw his death was near and sure,
Unless some other wretch in need
The same moon's image should allure
To take a bucket and succeed
To his predicament, indeed.
Two days pass'd by, and none approach'd the well;
Unhalting Time, as is his wont,
Was scooping from the moon's full front,
And as he scoop'd Sir Renard's courage fell.
His crony wolf, of clamorous maw,
Poor fox at last above him saw,
And cried, 'My comrade, look you here!
See what abundance of good cheer!
A cheese of most delicious zest!
Which Faunus must himself have press'd,
Of milk by heifer Io given.
If Jupiter were sick in heaven,
The taste would bring his appetite.
I've taken, as you see, a bite;
But still for both there is a plenty.
Pray take the bucket that I've sent ye;
Come down, and get your share.'
Although, to make the story fair,
The fox had used his utmost care,
The wolf (a fool to give him credit)
Went down because his stomach bid it--
And by his weight pull'd up
Sir Renard to the top.
We need not mock this simpleton,
For we ourselves such deeds have done.
Our faith is prone to lend its ear
To aught which we desire or fear.