Fable LVII.
The Sparrow and the Hare.
A Hare, being seized by an Eagle, squeaked out in a most woful manner. A Sparrow that sat upon a tree just by and saw it, could not forbear being unseasonably witty, but called out, and said to the Hare: So ho! what! sit there and be killed? Pr’ythee, up and away; I dare say, if you would but try, so swift a creature as you are would easily escape from the Eagle. As he was going on with his cruel raillery, down came a Hawk, and snapt him up; and, notwithstanding his vain cries and lamentations, fell a devouring of him in an instant. The Hare, who was just expiring, yet received comfort from this accident, even in the agonies of death; and, addressing her last words to the Sparrow, said: You, who just now insulted my misfortune with so much security, as you thought, may please to shew us how well you can bear the like, now it has befallen you.
Morals.
The mutability of human affairs is such, that no situation, however seemingly advantageous, ought to make us jest with the misfortunes of others.
Reflection.
Nothing is more impertinent than for people to be giving their opinion and advice in cases in which, were they to be their own, themselves would be as much at a loss what to do. But so great an itch have most men to be directors in the affairs of others, either to shew the superiority of their understanding, or their own security and exemption from the ills they would have removed, that they forwardly and conceitedly obtrude their counsel, even at the hazard of their own safety and reputation. There have been instances of those who, either officiously or for the jest’s sake, have spent much of their time in reading lectures of economy to the rest of the world, when at the same time their own ill husbandry has been such, that they were forced to quit their dwelling and take lodgings, while their goods were sold to make a composition for the debts which they owed to petty tradesmen.
Without giving more examples of this kind, of which every one may furnish himself with enough from his own observation, we cannot but conclude that none are greater objects of ridicule than they who thus merrily assume a character which, at the same time, by some incidents of their life, they convince us of their being so unfit for.
Fable LVIII.
The Cat and the Fox.
As the Cat and the Fox were talking politics together, on a time, in the middle of the forest, Reynard said, Let things turn out ever so bad, he did not care, for he had a thousand tricks for them yet before they should hurt him. But pray, says he, Mrs Puss, suppose there should be an invasion, what course do you design to take? Nay, says the Cat, I have but one shift for it; and if that won’t do, I am undone. I am sorry for you, replies Reynard, with all my heart, and would gladly furnish you with one or two of mine, but indeed, neighbour, as times go, it is not good to trust; we must even be every one for himself, as the saying is, and so your humble servant. These words were scarce out of his mouth, when they were alarmed with a pack of hounds that came upon them full cry. The Cat, by the help of her single shift, ran up a tree, and sat securely among the top branches; from whence she beheld Reynard, who had not been able to get out of sight, overtaken with his thousand tricks, and torn in as many pieces by the dogs which had surrounded him.
Morals.
Successful cunning often makes an ostentatious pretension to wisdom.
Reflection.
A man that sets up for more cunning than the rest of his neighbours, is generally a silly fellow at the bottom. Whoever is master of a little judgment and insight into things, let him keep them to himself and make use of them as he sees occasion; but he should not be teasing others with an idle and impertinent ostentation of them. One good discreet expedient made use of upon an emergency, will do a man more real service, and make others think better of him, than to have passed all along for a shrewd, crafty knave, and be bubbled at last. When any one has been such a coxcomb as to insult his acquaintance, by pretending to more policy and stratagem than the rest of mankind, they are apt to wish for some difficulty for him to shew his skill in; where, if he should miscarry (as ten to one but he does), his misfortune, instead of pity, is sure to be attended with laughter. He that sets up for a biter, as the phrase is, being generally intent upon his prey, or vain of shewing his art, frequently exposes himself to the traps of one sharper than himself, and incurs the ridicule of those whom he designed to make ridiculous.
Fable LIX.
The Old Hound.
An old Hound, who had been an excellent good one in his time, and given his master great sport and satisfaction in many a chase, at last, by the effect of years, became feeble and unserviceable. However, being in the field one day, when the Stag was almost run down, he happened to be the first that came in with him, and seized him by one of his haunches; but, his decayed and broken teeth not being able to keep their hold, the Deer escaped, and threw him quite out. Upon which, his master, being in a great passion, was going to strike him, when the honest old creature is said to have barked out his apology: Ah! do not strike your poor old servant; it is not my heart and inclination, but my strength and speed that fail me. If what I now am displeases, pray don’t forget what I have been.
Morals.
Useful services, performed in youth, ought not to be cancelled by old age and infirmities.
Reflection.
This Fable may serve to give us a general view of the ingratitude of the greatest part of mankind. Notwithstanding all the civility and complaisance that is used among people where there is a common intercourse of business, yet, let the main spring, the probability of their being serviceable to each other, either in point of pleasure or profit, be but once broken, and farewell courtesy. So far from continuing any regard in behalf of past favours, that it is very well if they forbear doing anything that is injurious. If the master had only ceased to caress and make much of the old Hound when he was past doing any service, it had not been very strange; but to treat a poor creature ill, not for a failure of inclination, but merely a defect of nature, must, notwithstanding the crowd of examples there are to countenance it, be pronounced inhuman and unreasonable.
There are two accounts upon which people that have been useful are frequently neglected. One, when they are so decayed, either through age or some accident, that they are no longer equal to the services they have formerly done; the other, when the occasion or emergency which required such talents no longer exists. Phædrus, who more than once complains of the bad consequences of age, makes no other application to this Fable, than by telling his friend Philetas, with some regret, that he wrote it with such a view; having, it seems, been repaid with neglect, or worse usage, for services done in his youth to those who were then able to afford him a better recompense.
Fable LX.
Two Young Men and the Cook.
Two young men went into a cook’s shop, under pretence of buying meat; and while the cook’s back was turned, one of them snatched up a piece of beef, and gave it to his companion, who presently clapt it under his cloak. The cook turning about again, and missing his beef, began to charge them with it; upon which, he that first took it swore bitterly he had none of it. He that had it swore as heartily, that he had taken up none of his meat. Why look ye, gentlemen, says the cook, I see your equivocation; and though I can’t tell which of you has taken my meat, I am sure, between you both, there’s a thief, and a couple of rascals.
Morals.
Evading the truth is just as blameable as denying it.
Reflection.
An honest man’s word is as good as his oath; and so is a rogue’s too; for he that will cheat and lie, why should he scruple to forswear himself? Is the latter more criminal than either of the former? An honest man needs no oath to oblige him; and a rogue only deceives you the more certainly by it, because you think you have tied him up, and he is sure you have not. In truth, it is not easy, with the eye of reason, to discern, that there is any good in swearing at all. We need not scruple to take an honest man’s bare asseveration; and we shall do wrong if we believe a rogue, though he swears by the most solemn oaths that can be invented.
There are, besides, a sort of people who are rogues, and yet don’t know that they are such; who, when they have taken an oath, make a scruple of breaking it, but rack their invention to evade it by some equivocation or other; by which, if they can but satisfy their acquaintance, and serve their own scheme they think all is well, and never once consider the black and heinous guilt which must attend such a behaviour. They solemnly call the supreme Being to witness; to what? to a sham, an evasion, a lie. Thus these unthinking, prevaricating wretches, at the same time that they believe there is a God, act as if there were none; or, which is worse, dare affront him in the highest degree. They who by swearing would clear themselves of a crime, of which they are really guilty, need not be at much pains about wording their oath; for, express themselves how they will, they are sure to be forsworn.
Fable LXI.
The Dog and the Sheep.
The Dog sued the Sheep for a debt, of which the Kite and the Wolf were to be judges. They, without debating long upon the matter, or making any scruple for want of evidence, gave sentence for the plaintiff; who immediately tore the poor Sheep in pieces, and divided the spoil with the unjust judges.
Morals.
We cannot reasonably hope for justice in a court, where the judges are interested in the decision.
Reflection.
Deplorable are the times, when open bare-faced villany is protected and encouraged, when innocence is obnoxious, honesty contemptible, and it is reckoned criminal to espouse the cause of virtue. Men originally entered into covenants and simple compacts with each other for the promotion of their happiness and well-being, for the establishment of justice and public peace. How comes it then that they look stupidly on, and tamely acquiesce, when wicked men pervert this end, and establish an arbitrary tyranny of their own upon the foundation of fraud and oppression? Among beasts, who are incapable of being civilised by social laws, it is no strange thing to see innocent helpless sheep fall a prey to dogs, wolves, and kites: But it is amazing how mankind could ever sink down to such a low degree of base cowardice, as to suffer some of the worst of their species to usurp a power over them, to supersede the righteous laws of good government, and to exercise all kinds of injustice and hardship in gratifying their own vicious lusts. Wherever such enormities are practised, it is when a few rapacious statesmen combine together, to get and secure the power in their own hands, and agree to divide the spoils among themselves. For as long as the cause is to be tried only among themselves, no question but they will always vouch for each other. But, at the same time, it is hard to determine which resemble brutes most, they in acting, or the people in suffering them to act their vile selfish schemes.
Fable LXII.
The Proud Frog.
An Ox, grazing in a meadow, chanced to set his foot among a parcel of young frogs, and trod one of them to death. The rest informed their mother, when she came home, what had happened; telling her, that the beast which did it was the hugest creature that ever they saw in their lives. What, was it so big? says the old Frog, swelling and blowing up her speckled belly to a great degree. Oh, bigger by a vast deal, say they. And so big? says she, straining herself yet more. Indeed, Mamma, say they, if you were to burst yourself, you would never be so big. She strove yet again, and burst herself indeed.
Morals.
The silly ambition of vying with our superiors, in station and fortune, is the direct road to ruin.
Reflection.
Whenever a man endeavours to live equal with one of a greater fortune than himself, he is sure to share a like fate with the Frog in the Fable. How many vain people of moderate easy circumstances burst and come to nothing, by vying with those whose estates are more ample than their own! Sir Changeling Plumbstock was possessed of a very considerable demesne, devolved to him by the death of an old uncle of the city, who had adopted him his heir. He had a false taste of happiness; and, without the least economy, trusting to the sufficiency of his vast revenue, was resolved to be outdone by nobody, in shewish grandeur and expensive living. He gave five thousand pounds for a piece of ground in the country, to set a house upon, the building and furniture of which cost fifty thousand more; and his gardens were proportionably magnificent. Besides which, he thought himself under a necessity of buying out two or three tenements which stood in his neighbourhood, that he might have elbow room enough. All this he could very well bear; and still might have been happy, had it not been for an unfortunate view which he one day happened to take of my Lord Castlebuilder’s gardens, which consist of twenty acres, whereas his own were not above twelve. For from that time he grew pensive; and before the ensuing winter, gave five and thirty years’ purchase for a dozen acres more to enlarge his gardens, built a couple of exorbitant greenhouses and a large pavilion at the farther end of a terrace walk, the bare repairs and superintendencies of all which call for the remaining part of his income. He is mortgaged pretty deep, and pays nobody; but, being a privileged person, resides altogether at a private cheap lodging in the city of Westminster.
Fable LXIII.
The Dove and the Bee.
The Bee, compelled by thirst, went to drink in a clear purling rivulet; but the current, with its circling eddy, snatched her away, and carried her down the stream. A Dove, pitying her distressed condition, cropt a branch from a neighbouring tree, and let it fall into the water, by means of which the Bee saved herself, and got ashore. Not long after, a Fowler, having a design upon the Dove, planted his nets and all his little artillery in due order, without the Bird’s observing what he was about; which the Bee perceiving, just as he was going to put his design in execution she bit him by the heel, and made him give so sudden a start, that the Dove took the alarm, and flew away.
Morals.
Charity will have its rewards one time or other; for certain in the promised recompense hereafter, perhaps in a grateful return here.
Reflection.
One good turn deserves another; and gratitude is excited by so noble and natural a spirit, that he ought to be looked upon as the vilest of creatures, who has no sense of it. It is, indeed, so very just and equitable a thing, and so much every man’s duty, that to speak of it properly one should not mention it as anything meritorious, or that may claim praise and admiration, any more than we should say a man ought to be rewarded or commended for not killing his father, or forbearing to set fire to his neighbour’s house. The bright and shining piece of morality, therefore, which is recommended to us in this Fable, is set forth in this example of the Dove, who, without any obligation or expectation, does a voluntary office of charity to its fellow-creature in distress. The constant uninterrupted practice of this virtue is the only thing in which we are capable of imitating the great Author of our being, whose Beloved Son, besides the many precepts He has given to enforce this duty, used this expression as a common saying, It is more blessed to give than to receive.
Fable LXIV.
The Collier and the Fuller.
The Collier and the Fuller, being old acquaintance, happened upon a time to meet together; and the latter, being but ill provided with a habitation, was invited by the former to come and live in the same house with him. I thank you, my dear friend, replies the Fuller, for your kind offer, but it cannot be; for if I were to dwell with you, whatever I should take pains to scour and make clean in the morning, the dust of you and your coals would blacken and defile, as bad as ever, before night.
Morals.
We commonly imbibe the principles and manners of those with whom we associate.
Reflection.
It is of no small importance in life, to be cautious what company we keep, and with whom we enter into friendships. For though we are ever so well disposed ourselves, and happen to be ever so free from vice and debauchery, yet, if those with whom we frequently converse are engaged in a lewd, wicked course, it will be almost impossible for us to escape being drawn in with them.
If we are truly wise, and would shun those siren rocks of pleasure upon which so many have split before us, we should forbid ourselves all manner of commerce and correspondence with those who are steering a course which, reason tells us, is not only not for our advantage, but must end in our destruction.
All the virtue we can boast of will not be sufficient to ensure us, if we embark in bad company. For though our philosophy were such, as that we could preserve ourselves from being tainted and infected with their manners, yet their character would twist and entwine itself along with ours in so intricate a fold, that the world would not take the trouble to unravel and separate them. Reputations are of a subtle insinuating texture like water; that which is derived from the clearest spring, if it chances to mix with a foul current, runs on, undistinguished, in one muddy stream for the future, and must for ever partake of the colour and condition of its associate.
Fable LXV.
The Boy and his Mother.
A little Boy, who went to school, stole one of his school-fellow’s horn-books, and brought it home to his mother; who was so far from correcting and discouraging him upon account of the theft, that she commended and gave him an apple for his pains. In process of time, as the child grew up to be a man, he accustomed himself to greater robberies; and at last, being apprehended and committed to gaol, he was tried and condemned for a felony. On the day of his execution, as the officers were conducting him to the gallows, he was attended by a vast crowd of people, and among the rest by his mother, who came sighing and sobbing along, and deploring extremely her son’s unhappy fate; which the criminal observing, he called to the sheriff, and begged the favour of him, that he would give him leave to speak a word or two to his poor afflicted mother. The sheriff (as who would deny a dying man so reasonable a request) gave him permission; and the felon, while every one thought he was whispering something of importance to his mother, bit off her ear, to the great offence and surprise of the whole assembly. What, say they, was not this villain contented with the impious acts which he has already committed, but he must increase the number of them, by doing this violence to his mother? Good people, replied he, I would not have you be under a mistake; that wicked woman deserves this, and even worse at my hands; for if she had chastised and chid, instead of rewarding and caressing me, when in my infancy I stole the horn-book from the school, I had not come to this ignominious untimely end.
Morals.
Youthful minds, like the pliant wax, are susceptible of the most lasting impressions, and the good or evil bias they then receive is seldom or ever eradicated.
Reflection.
Notwithstanding the great innate depravity of mankind, one need not scruple to affirm, that most of the wickedness, which is so frequent and so pernicious in the world, arises from a bad education; and that the child is obliged either to the example or connivance of its parents, for most of the vicious habits which it wears through the course of its future life. The mind of one that is young is, like wax, soft and capable of any impression which is given it: but it is hardened by time, and the first signature grows so firm and durable, that scarce any pains or application can erase it. It is a mistaken notion in people, when they imagine that there is no occasion for regulating or restraining the actions of very young children, which though allowed to be sometimes very naughty in those of a more advanced age, are in them, they suppose, altogether innocent and inoffensive. But, however innocent they may be, as to their intention then, yet, as the practice may grow upon them unobserved, and root itself into a habit, they ought to be checked and discountenanced in their first efforts towards anything that is injurious or dishonest; that the love of virtue and the abhorrence of wrong and oppression may be let into their minds, at the same time that they receive the very first dawn of understanding, and glimmering of reason. Whatever guilt arises from the actions of one whose education has been deficient as to this point, no question but a just share of it will be laid, by the great Judge of the world, to the charge of those who were, or should have been, his instructors.
Fable LXVI.
The Wanton Calf.
A Calf, full of play and wantonness, seeing the Ox at plough, could not forbear insulting him. What a sorry poor drudge art thou, says he, to bear that heavy yoke upon your neck, and go all day drawing a plough at your tail, to turn up the ground for your master! But you are a wretched dull slave, and know no better, or else you would not do it. See what a happy life I lead; I go just where I please; sometimes I lie down under the cool shade; sometimes frisk about in the open sunshine; and, when I please, slake my thirst in the clear sweet brook: But you, if you were to perish, have not so much as a little dirty water to refresh you. The Ox, not at all moved with what he said, went quietly and calmly on with his work: and, in the evening, was unyoked and turned loose. Soon after which he saw the Calf taken out of the field, and delivered into the hands of a priest, who immediately led him to the altar, and prepared to sacrifice him. His head was hung round with fillets of flowers, and the fatal knife was just going to be applied to his throat, when the Ox drew near and whispered him to this purpose: Behold the end of your insolence and arrogance; it was for this only you were suffered to live at all; and pray now, friend, whose condition is best, yours or mine?
Morals.
To insult people in distress is the property of a cruel, indiscreet, and giddy temper; for on the next turn of fortune’s wheel, we may be thrown down to their condition, and they exalted to ours.
Reflection.
We may learn by this Fable the consequence of an idle life, and how well satisfied laborious, diligent men are, in the end, when they come quietly to enjoy the fruits of their industry. They who, by little tricks and sharpings, or by open violence and robbery, live in a high extensive way, often, in their hearts at least, despise the poor honest man, who is contented with the virtuous product of his daily labour, and patiently submits to his destiny. But how often is the poor man comforted, by seeing these wanton villains led in triumph to the altar of justice, while he has many a cheerful summer’s morning to enjoy abroad, and many a long winter’s evening to indulge himself in at home, by a quiet hearth, and under an unenvied roof: Blessings, which often attend a sober, industrious man, though the idle and the profligate are utter strangers to them.
Luxury and intemperance, besides their being certain to shorten a man’s days, are very apt not only to engage people with their seeming charms into a debauched life, utterly prejudicial to their health, but to make them have a contempt for others, whose good sense and true taste of happiness inspire them with an aversion to idleness and effeminacy, and put them upon hardening their constitution by innocent exercise and laudable employment. How many do gluttony and sloth tumble into an untimely grave! while the temperate and the active drink sober draughts of life, and spin out their thread to the most desirable length.
Fable LXVII.
Jupiter and the Herdsman.
A Herdsman, missing a young heifer that belonged to his herd, went up and down the forest to seek it. And having walked a great deal of ground to no purpose, he fell a praying to Jupiter for relief; promising to sacrifice a Kid to him, if he would help him to a discovery of the thief. After this, he went on a little farther, and came near a grove of oaks, where he found the carcase of his heifer, and a lion grumbling over it, and feeding upon it. This sight almost scared him out of his wits; so down he fell upon his knees once more, and addressing himself to Jupiter; O Jupiter! says he, I promised thee a Kid to show me the thief, but now I promise thee a bull, if thou wilt be so merciful as to deliver me out of his clutches.
Morals.
We ought never to supplicate the Divine power, but through motives of religion and virtue; prayers, dictated by passion or interest, are unacceptable to the Deity.
Reflection.
How ignorant and stupid are some people, who form their notions of the Supreme Being from their own poor shallow conceptions; and then, like froward children with their nurses, think it consistent with infinite wisdom and unerring justice to comply with all their whimsical petitions. Let men but live as justly as they can, and just Providence will give them what they ought to have. Of all the involuntary sins which men commit, scarce any are more frequent, than that of their praying absurdly and improperly, as well as unseasonably, when their time might have been employed so much better. The many private collections, sold up and down the nation, do not a little contribute to this injudicious practice: Which is the more to be condemned, in that we have so incomparable a public liturgy; one single address whereof (except the Lord’s Prayer) may be pronounced to be the best that ever was compiled; and alone preferable to all the various manuals of occasional devotion, which are vended by hawkers and pedlars about our streets. It is as follows:—
Almighty God, the fountain of all wisdom, who knowest our necessities before we ask, and our ignorance in asking; we beseech thee to have compassion upon our infirmities; and those things, which for our unworthiness we dare not, and for our blindness we cannot ask, vouchsafe to give us, for the worthiness of thy Son Jesus Christ our Lord.
Fable LXVIII.
There’s no To-morrow.
A Man, who had lived a very profligate life, at length being awakened by the lively representations of a sober friend on the apprehensions of a feverish indisposition, promised that he would heartily set about his reformation, and that To-morrow he would seriously begin it. But the symptoms going off, and that To-morrow coming, he still put it off till the next, and so he went on from one To-morrow to another; but still he continued his reprobate life. This his friend observing, said to him, I am very much concerned to find how little effect my disinterested advice has upon you: But, my friend, let me tell you, that since your To-morrow never comes, nor do you seem to intend it shall, I will believe you no more, except you set about your repentance and amendment this very moment: for, to say nothing of your repeated broken promises, you must consider, that the time that is past is no more; that To-morrow is not OURS; and the present NOW is all we have to boast of.
Morals.
That compunction of heart cannot be sincere, which takes not immediate effect, and can be put off till To-morrow. The friend’s closing observation in the Fable is so good a moral, that we need add nothing to it.
Reflection.
Whoever considers this emblem, will find it to be his own case; we promise, and we put off, and we sin, and go on sinning: but still, as our conscience checks us for it, we take up faint purposes, and half resolutions, to do so no more, and to lead a new life for the future. Thus, with the young fellow here, we indulge ourselves in our pleasures from time to time; and when we have trifled away our lives, day after day, from one To-morrow to another, that same To-morrow never comes. This is the sluggard’s plea and practice; the libertine’s, the miser’s; and in short, whose is it not? Now, if we would but consider the vanity and vexation of a lewd course of life; the impiety first of entering into vows, which we intend beforehand not to perform, and afterward of breaking them; the folly and the presumption of undertaking anything that is wholly out of our power; the necessity of improving every moment of our lives; the desperate and the irreparable hazard of losing opportunities; we should not venture body and soul upon the necessity of a procrastinated repentance, and postpone the most certain duties of a man, and of a Christian; for there is no To-morrow, nor anything, in truth, but the present instant, that we can call our own.