Honesty is the best policy; religion absolutely requires it of its votaries: and the honest man, provided his other talents are not deficient, always carries the preference in our esteem, before any other, in whatever business he employs himself.
Reflection.
Notwithstanding the proneness of mankind to do evil, and the account which some find in playing the knave, yet there cannot be invented a more true and reasonable maxim, than that by which we are assured that honesty is the best policy. If we consider it in respect to the other world, there never was a religion but strictly required it of its votaries. If we examine it upon account of this, we shall find that the honest man, provided his other talents are not deficient, always carries the preference in our esteem, before any other, in whatever business he thinks fit to employ himself.
Fable XVIII.
The Fir and a Bramble.
My head, says the boasting Fir-tree to the humble Bramble, is advanced among the stars; I furnish beams for palaces, and masts for shipping; the very sweat of my body is a sovereign remedy for the sick and wounded: whereas thou, O rascally Bramble, runnest creeping in the dirt, and art good for nothing in the world but mischief. I pretend not to vie with thee, said the Bramble, in the points thou gloriest in. But, not to insist upon it, that He who made thee a lofty Fir, could have made thee an humble Bramble, I pray thee tell me, when the Carpenter comes next with the axe into the wood, to fell timber, whether thou hadst not rather be a Bramble than a Fir-tree?
Morals.
Poverty secures a man from many dangers; whereas the rich and the mighty are the mark of malice and cross fortune; and still the higher they are, the nearer the thunder.
Reflection.
The answer of the humble Bramble to the proud Fir-tree is so pathetic, that it may of itself serve for a very good moral to this fable. Nothing of God’s works is so mean as to be despised, and nothing so lofty but it may be humbled; nay, and the greater the height the greater the danger. For a proud great man to despise an humble little one, when Providence can so easily exalt the one, and abase the other, and has not for the merit of the one, or the demerit of the other, conferred the respective conditions, is a most inexcusable arrogance: and history has given numberless instances, where the overgrown Fir, though a Prime Minister, or great Prince, in the very height of its pride, has been forced to submit to the executioner’s axe, while the humble Bramble, or contented poor man, has continued safe and unhurt in his lowly obscurity. We may further observe on this fable, that there is no state of life but has its mixture of good and evil. The Fir may boast of the uses to which it is put, and of its strength and stature; but then it has not to boast of the creeping Bramble’s safety; for the value of the one tempts the Carpenter’s axe, while the poverty of the other makes it little worth any one’s while to molest it. Upon the whole matter, we may add, That as pride or arrogance is a vice that seldom escapes without a punishment; so humility is a virtue that hardly ever goes without a blessing.
Fable XIX.
The Fox and the Countryman.
A Fox being hard hunted, and having run a long chase, was quite tired. At last he spied a country fellow in a wood, to whom he applied for refuge, entreating that he would give him leave to hide himself in his cottage, till the hounds were gone by. The man consented, and the Fox went and covered himself up close in a corner of the hovel. Presently the hunters came up, and inquired of the man, if he had seen the Fox. No, says he, I have not seen him indeed: but all the while he pointed with his finger to the place where the Fox was hid. However, the hunters did not understand him, but called off their hounds, and went another way. Soon after, the Fox, creeping out of his hole, was going to sneak off; when the man, calling after him, asked him, if that was his manners, to go away without thanking his benefactor, to whose fidelity he owed his life. Reynard, who had peeped all the while, and seen what passed, answered, I know what obligations I have to you well enough; and I assure you, if your actions had but been agreeable to your words, I should have endeavoured, however incapable of it, to have returned you suitable thanks.
Morals.
To appear in another’s interest, while underhand we are giving intelligence to their enemies, is treacherous, knavish, and base.
Reflection.
Sincerity is a most beautiful virtue: but there are some, whose natures are so poor-spirited and cowardly, that they are not capable of exerting it. Indeed, unless a man be steady and constant in all his actions, he will hardly deserve the name of sincere. An open enemy, though more violent and terrible, is not, however, so odious and detestable as a false friend. To pretend to keep another’s counsel, and appear in their interest, while underhand we are giving intelligence to their enemies, is treacherous, knavish, and base. There are some people in the world very dexterous at this kind of defamation; and can, while they seem most vehement in the commendation or defence of a friend, throw out a hint which shall stab their reputation deeper than the most malicious weapon, brandished at them in a public manner, could have been capable of doing.
Fable XX.
A One-Eyed Stag.
A One-Eyed Stag that was afraid of the Huntsmen at land, kept a watch that way, and fed with his blind side towards an arm of the sea, where he thought there was no danger. In this hope of security, he was shot, by a ball from a boat, and so ended his days with this lamentation: Here I am destroyed, says he, where I reckoned myself to be safe on the one hand; and no evil has befallen me, where I most dreaded it, on the other. But it is my comfort that I intended the best.
Morals.
We are liable to many accidents that no care or foresight can prevent: but we are to provide, however, the best we can against them, and leave the rest to Providence.
Reflection.
We are many times preserved or destroyed by those accidents or counsels that in all probability should have had quite contrary effects. But yet it is our part to act according to reason, and commit ourselves to Heaven for the rest. The wisest of men have their follies or blind sides, and have their enemies too, who watch to take advantage of their weakness. It behoves us therefore to look to ourselves on the blind side, as the part that lies most exposed to an attack. And yet, when we have done our best to prevent mischief, the very precaution itself serves many times to contribute to our ruin. In short, the ways and workings of Providence are unsearchable, and it is not in the power of human prudence to obviate all the accidents of life.
Fable XXI.
A Shepherd and a Young Wolf.
A Shepherd took a Wolf’s sucking Whelp, and trained it up with his Dogs. The Whelp fed with them, grew up with them, and whensoever they went out upon the chase of a Wolf, the Whelp would be sure to make one. It fell out sometimes that the Wolf escaped; but this domestic Wolf would be still hunting on, after the dogs had given over the chase, till he came up to his true brethren, where he took part of the prey with them, and then went back again to his master. And when he could come in for no snacks with the Wolves, he would now and then make free, by the by, with a straggling Sheep out of the flock. He carried on this trade for a while; but at last he was caught in the fact, and hanged by his injured master.
Morals.
Men naturally false and treacherous are no more to be reclaimed than Wolves. Benefits but augment their power to do mischief, and they never fail to make use of it to the prejudice of their benefactors.
Reflection.
Ill dispositions may be dissembled for a while, but nature is very hardly to be altered, either by counsel or education. It may do well enough for curiosity and experiment, to try how far ill-natured men, and other creatures, may be wrought upon by fair usage and good breeding; but the inclination and cruelty of the dam will be hardly ever out of the Whelp. Thrust back nature with a pitch-fork, says the poet, and it will return. This Fable is a true portrait of an ungrateful and treacherous mind, which, according to the proverb, holds with the Hare, and runs with the Hound; which pretends greater zeal than others, like the Wolf’s Whelp in the chase, in the detection and pursuit of a common enemy; but at the same time divides spoils with him, and, rather than want an opportunity of doing mischief, will prey privately upon the property he pretends to defend. Many such instances we might give in public life; and there have been too many such also in private life. The punishment so richly merited in the Fable is heartily to be wished whenever they happen, and it is a pity it should be wanted.
Fable XXII.
Seamen Praying to Saints.
In a terrible tempest at Sea, one Seaman took notice that the rest of his fellows were praying severally to so many Saints. Have a care, my masters, says he, what you do; for what if we should all be drowned now before the messenger can deliver his errand? would it not be better, without going so far about, to pray to Him that can save us without help.
Morals.
A wise man will take the nearest and surest way to obtain his end, and to commit no business of importance to a proxy, where he may do it himself.
Reflection.
Mankind, indolent and discontented, are very apt to murmur at the dispensations of Providence, and to call for divine assistance to extricate them from their difficulties, when it is in their own power to accomplish what they desire. They, who will not stir a finger to promote their own interest, have little title to expect any foreign assistance: but when they have exerted their utmost skill and assiduity, their prayers, if there is need for them, will be enforced by every argument drawn from their own merit, and the compassion of those to whom they make their application. Industry includes in itself this double blessing: It commonly enables us to gain the point we aim at; and in that case heightens the relish of our enjoyments, when we consider that we have attained them by our own art and perseverance: but if we should happen to fail in our endeavours, it excites the pity of those who are able to serve us; and gives a grace to our petitions for assistance and relief.
What needs any man make his court to the servants, says Sir Roger L’Estrange, when his access is open to the Master? and especially when that Master is as ready to give as the petitioner to ask.
With regard to secular matters, we are told a pleasant story of one of our princes, King Charles II. He had often observed a country gentleman attending to speak with one of his first ministers; and once passing through the apartment where the gentleman happened to be alone, he asked him his business. He told him, that he was attending upon his minister, as he had often done, for such a post in his Majesty’s gift. The King asked him, what he was to give for it to the minister? He said £1000. The King humorously told him he should have it, and bid him give him £500, and keep t’other £500 himself; and if he or his friends wanted any more such bargains, he might apply to himself directly, and be served at half price.
Fable XXIII.
A Fox that had lost his Tail.
A Fox taken in a trap was glad to compound for his neck, by leaving his tail behind him. It was so uncouth a sight for a Fox to appear without a tail, that the very thought of it made him weary of his life: but, however, for the better countenance of the scandal, he got the Master and Wardens of the Foxes’ company to call a Court of Assistants, where he himself appeared, and made a learned discourse upon the trouble, the uselessness, and the indecency of Foxes wearing tails. He had no sooner said out his say, but up rises a cunning Snap, then at the board, who desired to be informed, whether the worthy member that moved against the wearing of tails, gave his advice for the advantage of those that had tails, or to palliate the deformity and disgrace of those that had none.
Morals.
It is the way of the world to give other people counsel for by-ends. But yet it is a hard matter to over-rule a multitude to their own pain and loss.
Reflection.
We may improve a doctrine from this, that every man has his weak side, either by mischance or by nature; and that he makes it his business to cover it, too, the best he can. In case of the worst, it is some sort of ease to have company in misfortune. It puts a man out of countenance to be in fashion by himself, and therefore the Fox acted cunningly to try if he could bring his fellow Foxes to put themselves into his mode. When we have carried a point as far as it will go, and can make no more of it, it is a stroke of art and philosophy to look as if we did not so much as wish for a thing that is not to be had. Every man’s present condition has somewhat to be said for it: if it be uneasy, the skill will be, either how to mend it, or how to bear it; but then there must be no clashing with the methods, the decrees, and the laws of nature. A man that has forfeited his honour and his conscience, seems to be much in the condition of the Fox here that had lost his tail; and oftentimes takes as much pains, too, to persuade all his companions to follow his fashion, and be as corrupt as himself, that he may bring the rest of the world down to his own standard.
In respect to temporal affairs, they, who pretend to advise what measures are most conducive to the public welfare, are often guided entirely by their own private interest: but whenever they counsel any extraordinary innovations, or endeavour to change any established proceedings long used and approved, we may be almost certain that they have some other design, rather than the promotion of the general good. When new regulations are proposed, we should turn our eyes on those who propose them, and consider with attention, whether they have not some personal motives for their conduct, and we should be particularly cautious not to suffer ourselves to be imposed on by fine speeches and pretended patriotism: for he who is very solicitous to bring about a scheme, not attended with any visible advantage to the community, must only mean his own benefit; or, like the Fox, when he has been caught himself in one trap, endeavour to catch us in another.
Fable XXIV.
A Scoffer Punished.
A Presumptuous Scoffer at things sacred took a journey to Delphi, on purpose to try if he could put a trick upon Apollo. He carried a sparrow in his hand under his coat, and told the god, I have something in my hand, says he: Is it dead or living? If the oracle should say it was dead, he could show it alive; if living, it was but squeezing it, and then it was dead. He that saw the iniquity of his heart, gave him this answer: It shall e’en be which of the two thou pleasest: for it is in thy choice to have it either the one or the other, as to the bird, but it is not in thy power as to thyself; and immediately struck the bold scoffer dead, for a warning to others.
Morals.
Presumption naturally leads people to infidelity, and that by insensible degrees to atheism: for when men have once cast off a reverence for religion, they are come within one step of laughing at it.
Reflection.
There is no playing fast and loose with God Almighty, who sees the very thoughts of our hearts. This way of fooling in holy things, is the very boldest sort of impiety that can be practised. He that pretends to doubt of an All-knowing power, has as much right to doubt of an Almighty power too; and the bringing of one attribute in question, opens the way to a diffidence of all the rest. It would prevent a great deal of wickedness in the world, if men would but live and act in religious matters, so as to own and to recognise the force and awe of a Deity in their practices, as well as in their words: but when they come to querying and riddling upon it, with an If it be so and so, the scandal of the supposition is not to be borne; for such a way of seeming to affirm a thing, is but one remove from a flat denial of it. Such was the Scoffer’s question here to the oracle, which implies both the doubt of a divine Omniscience, and a curiosity to discover the truth of the matter, with a banter at the end of it; and so makes a consummated wickedness.
Fable XXV.
A Swan and a Stork.
A Stork that was present at the song of a dying Swan, told her, it was contrary to nature to sing so much out of season; and asked her the reason of it. Why, says the Swan, I am now entering into a state where I shall be no longer in danger of either snares, guns, or hunger; and who would not joy at such a deliverance?
Morals.
Death is a certain relief from all the difficulties, pains, and hazards of life.
Reflection.
It is a great folly to fear that which it is impossible to avoid; and it is yet a greater folly to fear the remedy of all evils: for death cures all diseases, and frees us from all cares. It is as great a folly again not to prepare ourselves, and provide for an inevitable fate. We are as sure to go out of the world, as we are that ever we came into it; and nothing but the conscience of a good life can support us in that last extremity. The fiction of a Swan’s singing at her death does, in the moral, but advise and recommend it to us to make ready for the cheerful entertainment of our last hour, and to consider with ourselves, that if death be so welcome a relief even to animals, barely as a deliverance from the cares, miseries, and dangers of a troublesome life, how much a greater blessing ought all good men to account it then, that are not only freed by it from the snares, difficulties, and distractions of a wicked world, but put into possession (over and above) of an everlasting peace, and the fruition of joys that shall never have an end!
To attain this desirable state of mind, it is necessary that we reflect fully and frequently on the uncertainty of all worldly affairs, how flitting and transitory, and how barren of real happiness, they are; and to endeavour at a proper discharge of our duty to society, by acting well the part assigned us in it, and managing the talents committed to our care, to beneficial ends and purposes; to our Creator, by a constant and humble acquiescence in the dispensations of His providence, and sincere and grateful acknowledgments for His numberless mercies to ourselves, by restraining inordinate and unlawful desires, and bridling our dissolute and licentious affections, duly considering, that as we bear the stamp and image of the Deity, every debasement and pollution offered to our persons is an affront and indignity to Him, and contrary to His express commands: By a constant attention to these things, we may be enabled to meet death without fear. The consciousness of a well-spent life strips the tyrant of all his terrors; then, like the Swan in the Fable, we shall consider him as a welcome visitant that will ease us of this load of mortality, and usher us into a state of inexpressible felicity.
Fable XXVI.
A Swallow and a Spider.
A Spider that observed a Swallow catching of flies, fell immediately to work upon a net to catch Swallows; for she looked upon it as an encroachment upon her right: but the birds, without any difficulty, brake through the work, and flew away with the very net itself. Well, says the Spider, bird-catching is none of my talent, I perceive; and so she returned to her old trade of catching flies again.
Morals.
A wise man will not undertake anything without means answerable to the end.
Reflection.
Every man should examine the strength of his own mind with attention and impartiality, and not fondly flatter himself by measuring his own talents by the false standard of the abilities of another. We can no more adopt the genius of another man than assume his shape and person; and an imitation of his manner would no more become us than his clothes. Man is indeed an imitative animal; but whatever we take from general observation, without servilely copying the practice of any individual, becomes so mixed and incorporated with our notions that it may fairly be called our own. Almost every man has something original in himself, which, if duly cultivated, might perhaps procure him esteem and applause; but if he neglects his natural talents, or perverts them by an absurd imitation of others, he becomes an object of ridicule; especially, if he attempts to perform things beyond the compass of his strength or understanding.
Fable XXVII.
A Dog, a Cock, and a Fox.
A Dog and a Cock took a journey together. The Dog kennelled in the body of a hollow tree, and the Cock roosted at night upon the boughs. The Cock crowed about midnight (at his usual hour), which brought a Fox that was abroad upon the hunt immediately to the tree; and there he stood licking of his lips at the Cock, and, wheedling him to get him down, he protested he never heard so angelical a voice since he was born; and what would not he do now, to hug the creature that had given him so admirable a serenade? Pray, says the Cock, speak to the porter below to open the door, and I’ll come down to you. The Fox, little dreaming of the Dog so near, did as he was directed, and the Dog presently seized and worried him.
Morals.
When a man has to do with an adversary who is too crafty or too strong for him, it is right to turn him off to his match.
Reflection.
Experience makes many a wise man of a fool, and security makes many a fool of a wise man. We have an instance of the former in the Cock’s over-reaching the Fox; and of the other in the Fox’s supine confidence, that made him so intent upon his prey, as to neglect his safety; and to fall himself into the pit that he had digged for another. It is much the same case in the world, when Providence is pleased to confound the presumptuous, the false, the mighty, and the bloodthirsty by judgments of lice and frogs—that is to say, by the most despicable of instruments; and that frequently at a crisis of time, when they think themselves sure of the success of their mischievous projects.
Fable XXVIII.
The Ants and a Grasshopper.
As the Ants were airing their provisions one winter, a hungry Grasshopper begged a charity of them. They told him, that he should have wrought in summer, if he would not have wanted in winter. Well, says the Grasshopper, but I was not idle neither; for I sung out the whole season. Nay then, said they, you’ll e’en do well to make a merry year of it, and dance in winter to the tune that you sung in summer.
Morals.
Action and industry is the business of a wise and a good man, and nothing is so much to be despised as slothfulness. Go to the Ant, thou sluggard, says the Royal Preacher, consider her ways, and be wise; which in a few words sums up the moral of this fable.
Reflection.
It is hard to say of laziness or luxury, whether it be the more scandalous, or the more dangerous evil. The very soul of the slothful does but lie drowsing in his body, and the whole man is totally given up to his senses; whereas the profit and the comfort of industry are substantial, firm, and lasting; the blessings of security and plenty go along with it, and it is never out of season. What is the Grasshopper’s entertainment now, but a summer’s song? A vain and empty pleasure? Let it be understood, however, that we are not to pass avarice upon the world under title of good-husbandry and thrift, and thereby utterly to extinguish charity. We are indeed, in the first place, to consult our own necessities; but we are then to consider, in the second, that the necessities of our neighbours have a Christian right to a part of what we have to spare.
The stress of this moral lies upon the preference of honest labour to idleness; and the refusal of relief, on the one hand, is intended only for a reproof to the inconsiderate loss of opportunity on the other. This does not hinder yet, but that the Ants, out of their abundance, ought to have relieved the Grasshopper in her distress, though it was her own fault that brought her to it; for if one man’s faults could discharge another man of his duty, there would be no longer any place left for the common offices of society. To conclude, we have our failings, every one of us; and the improvidence of my neighbour must not make me inhuman. The Ant did well to reprove the Grasshopper for her slothfulness; but she did ill, after that, to refuse her charity in her distress.
Fable XXIX.
The Bald Cavalier.
When periwigs were first used, and then chiefly to cover the defect of baldness, a certain Cavalier had one for that purpose, which passed for his own hair. But as he was one day riding out with some others a hunting, a sudden puff of wind blew off both his wig and his hat, and set the company in a loud laugh at his bald pate. He, for his part, fell a laughing with the rest, and said, Why, really, Gentlemen, this is merry enough; for how could I expect to keep other people’s hair, who could not preserve my own.
Morals.
The edge of a jest is quite blunted and turned off when a man has presence of mind to join in it against himself, or begin it.
Reflection.
A frank, easy way of openness and candour agrees best with all humours; and he that is over solicitous to conceal a defect, often does as good as make proclamation of it. And it is a turn of art in many cases, where a man lies open to ridicule, to anticipate the jest, and make sport with himself first.
The epigram of Martial upon a lady, who, in a case in point, was for hiding a defect like that of the bald Knight, and made use of false hair, carries with it the severer sting, as she was willing and studious to conceal it. The Poet, made English, says:—
Fable XXX.
A Dog and a Cat.
Never were two creatures better together than a Dog and a Cat brought up in the same house from a Whelp and a Kitten; so kind, so gamesome and diverting, that it was half the entertainment of the family to see the gambols and love-tricks that passed betwixt them. Only it was observed, that still at meal-times, when scraps fell from the table, or a bone was thrown to them, they would be snarling and spitting at one another under the table like the worst of foes.
Morals.
Reflection.
Here is a perfect emblem of the practices and friendships of the world. We contract little likings, enter into agreeable conversations, and pass away the time so merrily and kindly together, that one would think it impossible for anything under the sun to break the interest; and yet upon the throwing in any cross interest among us, which is all one with the bone under the table; nay, upon a jealous thought, or a mistaken word or look, all former bonds are cancelled, the league broken, and the farce concludes in biting and scratching one another’s eyes out. The same figure will serve for princes and states, public persons and private, married and single; people, in fine, of all professions and pretences.
Fable XXXI.
An Impertinent and Philosopher.
A certain pragmatical, gay, fluttering Coxcomb would needs make a visit to a Philosopher. He found him alone in his study, and fell a wondering how he could endure to lead so solitary a life. Sir, says the Philosopher, you are exceedingly mistaken, for I was in very good company till you came in.