What the noisy and most numerous part of the world calls good company, is generally the most irksome and insipid thing in the world to a wise man; a mere round of folly and impertinence, and void of any kind of instruction or benefit to a reflecting mind. How preferable to such a man must it be to converse with the learned dead, rather than the unedifying and noisy living?
Reflection.
It is one of the most vexatious mortifications, perhaps, of a sober and studious man’s life, to have his thoughts disordered, and the chain of his reason discomposed, by the importunity of a tedious and impertinent visit; especially if it be from a fool of quality, where the station of the man entitles him to all returns of good manners and respect. The drift of this fable is to tell us, that good books and good thoughts are the best company, and that they are mistaken, who think a wise man can ever be alone. It prepares us also to expect interruptions and disappointments, and to provide for them; but withal to take the best care we can to prevent the plague of ill company, by avoiding the occasions of it. The linking of a man of brains and honesty, with a lewd, insipid companion, is effectually the emblem of that tyrant who bound the living and the dead together; and yet this is it which the impertinent takes for the relief of solitude, and that he calls company.
Fable XXXII.
The Fox and the Ass.
An Ass, finding a Lion’s skin, disguised himself with it, and ranged about the forest, putting all the beasts that saw him into a bodily fear. After he had diverted himself thus for some time, he met a Fox; and being desirous to fright him too, as well as the rest, he leapt at him with some fierceness, and endeavoured to imitate the roaring of the Lion. Your humble servant, says the Fox; if you had held your tongue, I might have taken you for a Lion, as others did; but now you bray, I know who you are.
Morals.
The more distant any person is from the thing he affects to appear, the stronger will the ridicule be which he excites, and the greater the inconveniencies into which he runs himself.
Reflection.
This is so trite and common a subject, that there is scarce any one who is ignorant of it. A man is known by his words, as a tree is by the fruit; and, if we would be apprised of the nature and qualities of any one, let him but discourse, and he himself will speak them to us, better than another can describe them. We may therefore perceive from this fable, how proper it is for those to hold their tongues who would not discover the shallowness of their understandings.
The deepest rivers are most silent: the greatest noise is ever found where there is the least depth of water. And it is a true observation, that those who are the weakest in understanding, and most slow of apprehension, are generally the strongest in opinion, and most precipitate in uttering their crude conceptions. When, with a secret awe, we regard the grave address and important mien of some senatorian person, whom we have chanced to meet in a coffee-house, what a speaker do we often think he must be, before we hear him speak! his air breathes the seriousness of a privy councillor, and his erect aspect the dignity of an eminent patriot: But he utters himself, and undeceives us; he brays, and tells the whole company what he is.
Fable XXXIII.
A Boar and a Fox.
As a Boar was whetting his teeth against a tree, up comes a Fox to him. Pray, what do you mean by that? says he. I do it, says the Boar, to be in readiness in case of an attack by an enemy. But, replies the Fox, I see no occasion for it, for there is no enemy near you. Well, says the Boar, but I see occasion for it; for when I come once to be set upon, it will be too late for me to be whetting when I should be fighting.
Morals.
A discreet man should have a reserve of everything that is necessary beforehand, that when the time comes for him to make use of them, he may not be in a hurry and confusion.
Reflection.
He that is not idle when he is at leisure, may play with his business. A discreet man should have a reserve of everything that is necessary beforehand; that when the time comes for him to make use of them, he may not be in a hurry and a confusion. A wise General has not his men to discipline, or his ammunition to provide, when the trumpet sounds To Arms; but sets apart his times of exercise for one, and his magazines for the other, in the calm season of peace. We hope to live to a good old age: Should we not, then, lay up a store of conveniences against that time, when we shall be most in want of them, and least able to procure them? We must die; nay, never start; we must. Are there not some necessary things for us to transact before we depart; at least, some trifle or other for us to bequeath, which a sudden stroke may prevent us from doing? Sure there is. And if so, how inexcusable shall we be, if we defer the execution of it till the alarm comes upon us. I did not think of it, is an expression unworthy a wise man’s mouth; and was only intended for the use of fools.
Fable XXXIV.
The Discontented Ass.
An Ass, in a hard winter, wished for a little warm weather, and a mouthful of fresh grass to nap upon, in exchange for a heartless truss of straw, and a cold lodging. In good time the warm weather and the fresh grass came on; but so much toil and business along with it, that the Ass grows quickly as sick of the spring as he was of the winter. He next longs for summer; and when that comes, finds his toils and drudgery greater than in the spring; and then he fancies he shall never be well till autumn comes: but there again, what with carrying apples, grapes, fuel, winter provisions, and such like, he finds himself in a greater hurry than ever. In fine, when he has trod the circle of the year in a course of restless labour, his last prayer is for winter again, and that he may but take up his rest where he began his complaint.
Morals.
The life of an unsteady man runs away in a course of vain wishes, and unprofitable discontent; an unsettled mind can never be at rest. There is no season without its business.
Reflection.
There is no measure to be taken of an unsteady mind: but still it is either too much or too little, too soon or too late. The love of novelty begets and increases the love of novelty; and the oftener we change, the more dangerous and troublesome do we find this itch of variety to be. The Ass was sick of the winter, sicker yet of the spring, more sick still of the summer; and sickest of all of the autumn; till he is brought, in the end, to compound for his first condition again, and so take up with that for his satisfaction, which he reckoned upon before for his misfortune.
Thus it is, when fickle and foolish people will be prescribing to, and refining upon, the wise and gracious appointments of the Maker of the world. They know not what they are, and they know not what they would be, any farther, than that they would not be what they are. Let their present state in the world be what it will, there is still something or other in it that makes their lives wearisome: and they are as peevish company to themselves too, as they are to their friends and neighbours; for there is not one circumstance in nature, but they shall find matter to pick a quarrel at: the present is only the course of so many moments into time to come: were it not better then for people at first to sit down contentedly in the post where Providence has placed them, and to do their duty in that state of life, as they are early and excellently taught, to which it has pleased God to call them, than be forced to do it at last, by the dear bought experience of their follies?
This, however, we say, not to bar honest industry, or a sober application to those studies or means that may probably contribute to the mending of a man’s fortune; provided that he set up his resolution beforehand, not to let himself down below the dignity of a wise man, be the issue of his endeavours what it will. For he that is not content at present, carries the same weakness along with him to the next remove; and whoever either passionately covets any thing that he has not, or feels himself glutted with a satiety of what he possesses, has already lost his hold: so that if we would be happy, we must fix upon some foundation that can never deceive us, and govern ourselves by the measures of sobriety and justice.
If we look round us in the world, and likewise examine our own hearts, we shall find that one of the principal sources of our discontent, is the making of a false estimate of our own and our neighbours’ abilities, and thence drawing conclusions that lead us into difficulties. Does any citizen hold a considerable office? Or is he eminent for his fortune? That envy, inherent in our nature, prompts us to examine, by what title he enjoys those benefits and distinctions, that lift him above the level of the community; the same principle leads us to overlook, in some measure, his good qualities, and greatly to exaggerate his bad ones. We are tempted next to make a comparison between him and ourselves, and by looking through the other end of the perspective, imagine that the balance is greatly in our favour, and without further process or examination conclude, that the world ought to abide by our decision; hence the numberless disappointments we meet with; hence all the uneasiness we feel in every stage and station of life. Were we to pay a proper attention to that celebrated sentence of the Delphic oracle,
“Know Thyself,”
we should experience fewer disappointments, become better members of society, and enjoy a greater portion of that tranquillity of soul, that internal serenity of mind, without which every station in life, however garnished with honours, however loaded with riches, may be pronounced miserable.
Fable XXXV.
The Undutiful Young Lion.
Among other good counsels that an old experienced Lion gave to his whelp, this was one, that he should never contend with a man: for, says he, if ever you do, you’ll be worsted. The little Lion gave his father the hearing, and kept the advice in his thought, but it never went near his heart. When he came to be grown up, afterwards, and in the flower of his strength and vigour, about he ranges to look for a man to grapple with. In his ramble he met with a yoke of oxen, and then with a horse, saddled and bridled, and severally asked them if they were men; but they saying they were not, he goes after this to one that was cleaving of blocks: D’ye hear? says the Lion, you seem to be a man: And a man I am, says the fellow. That’s well, quoth the Lion, and dare you fight with me? Yes, says the man, I dare: why, I can tear all these blocks to pieces, you see. Put your feet now into this gap, where you see an iron thing there, and try what you can do. The Lion presently put his paws into the gaping of the wood, and with one lusty pluck made it give way, and out drops the wedge; the wood immediately closing upon it, there was the Lion caught by the toes. The Wood-man presently upon this raises the country, and the Lion finding what a strait he was in, gave one hearty twitch and got his feet out of the trap, but left his claws behind him. So away he goes back to his father, all lame and bloody, with this confession in his mouth: Alas! my dear father, says he, this had never been, if I had followed your advice.
Morals.
The vengeance of Heaven, sooner or later, treads upon the heels of wilful disobedience to parents.
Reflection.
Children are not to reason upon obedience to parents, provided there be nothing in the command, or in the imposition, that is simply evil; for headstrong and undutiful children seldom escape a remarkable punishment, which gives them reason to say to their parents, this had never been, if I had followed your advice.
Fable XXXVI.
The Countryman and Ass.
An old fellow was feeding an Ass in a fine green meadow; and being alarmed with the sudden approach of the enemy, was impatient with the Ass to put himself forward, and fly with all the speed that he was able. The Ass asked him, Whether or no he thought the enemy would clap two pair of panniers upon his back? The man said, No, there was no fear of that. Why then, says the Ass, I will not stir an inch; for what is it to me who my master is, since I shall but carry my panniers as usual?
Morals.
Men in a fright, or alarmed with the apprehensions of some imminent danger to themselves, often fly for succour to those from whom they have not deserved any. It is prudent so to behave in our prosperity, as that we may make every one our friend in times of adversity: for no one is exempted from the mutability of fortune.
Reflection.
This fable shows us how much in the wrong the poorer sort of people most commonly are, when they are under any concern about the revolutions of a government. All the alteration which they can feel is, perhaps, in the name of their sovereign, or some such important trifle. But they cannot well be poorer, or made to work harder than they did before. And yet how are they sometimes imposed upon, and drawn in by the artifices of a few mistaken or designing men, to foment factions, and raise rebellions, in cases where they can get nothing by the success; but, if they miscarry, are in danger of suffering an ignominious, untimely death.
Fable XXXVII.
Joy and Sorrow.
Joy and Sorrow, two twin-sisters, once quarrelled vehemently who should have the preference; and being unable to decide the matter, left it to Minos to determine. He tried all means to make them agree and go hand in hand together, as loving sisters ought; but finding his counsel had no effect upon them, he decreed that they should be linked together in a chain; and each of them in turn should be perpetually treading upon the heel of the other; and not a pin matter then, says he, which goes foremost.
Morals.
No man is to presume in prosperity, or despair in adversity; for good and ill fortune do as naturally succeed one another, as day and night.
Reflection.
It is the lot of mankind to be happy and miserable by turns. The wisdom of Providence will have it so; and it is exceedingly for our advantage that so it should be. There is nothing pure and unmixed under the heavens; and if there were, such an abstracted simplicity would be neither nourishing nor profitable to us. By the mediation of this mixture, we have the comfort of Hope to support us in our distresses, and the apprehensions of a change to keep a check upon us in the very pride of our greatness: so that by this vicissitude of good and evil we are kept steady in our philosophy and in our religion. The one minds us of God’s omnipotence and justice; the other, of His goodness and mercy: the one tells us, there is no trusting to our own strength; the other preaches faith and resignation in the prospect of an overruling Providence that takes care of us. What is it but sickness that gives us a taste of health? bondage, the relish of liberty? and what but the experience of want that enhances the value of plenty? that which we call ease is only an indolence or a freedom from pain; and there is no such thing as felicity or misery but by comparison. It is very true, that hopes and fears are the snares of life in some respects, but they are the reliefs of it in others. Now for fear of the worst, however, on either hand every man has it in his power, by the force of natural reason, to avoid the danger of falling either into presumption or despair.
Fable XXXVIII.
The Fox and the Ape.
Once upon a time, the beasts were so void of reason as to choose an Ape for their King. He had danced, and diverted them with playing antic tricks, and truly nothing would serve but they must anoint him their sovereign. Accordingly crowned he was, and affected to look very wise and politic. But the Fox, vexed at his heart to see his fellow-brutes act so foolishly, was resolved the first opportunity to convince them of their sorry choice, and punish their jackanapes of a king for his presumption. Soon after, spying a trap in a ditch, which was baited with a piece of flesh, he went and informed the Ape of it, as a treasure, which, being found upon the waste, belonged to his Majesty only. The Ape, dreaming nothing of the matter, went very briskly to take possession, but had no sooner laid his paws upon the bait, than he was caught in the trap; where, betwixt shame and anger, he began to reproach the Fox, calling him rebel and traitor, and threatening to be revenged of him. At all which Reynard laughed heartily; and going off, added, with a sneer, You a king, and not understand trap!
Morals.
When Apes are in power, Foxes will never be wanting to play upon them.
Reflection.
A weak man should not aspire to be a king; for if he were, in the end it would prove as inconvenient to himself, as disadvantageous to the public. To be qualified for such an office—an office of the last importance to mankind—the person should be of a distinguished prudence and most unblemished integrity; too honest to impose upon others, and too penetrating to be imposed upon; thoroughly acquainted with the laws and genius of the realm he is to govern; brave, but not passionate; good-natured, but not soft; aspiring at just esteem; despising vain-glory; without superstition; without hypocrisy. When thrones have been filled by people of a different turn from this, histories show what a wretched figure they always made; what tools they were to particular persons, and what plagues to their subjects in general. They who studied their passions and entered into their foibles, led them by the nose as they pleased; and took them off from the guardianship of the public, by some paltry amusement, that themselves might have the better opportunity to rifle and plunder it.
Fable XXXIX.
The Satyr and the Traveller.
A Satyr, as he was ranging the Forest in an exceeding cold, snowy season, met with a Traveller half-starved with the extremity of the weather. He took compassion on him, and kindly invited him home, to a warm comfortable cave he had in the hollow of a rock. As soon as they had entered and sat down, notwithstanding there was a good fire in the place, the chilly Traveller could not forbear blowing his finger ends. Upon the Satyr’s asking him why he did so, he answered: That he did it to warm his hands. The honest silvan having seen little of the world, admired a man who was master of so valuable a quality as that of blowing heat, and therefore was resolved to entertain him in the best manner he could. He spread the table before him with dried fruits of several sorts; and produced a remnant of old cordial wine, which, as the rigour of the season made very proper, he mulled with some warm spices, infused over the fire, and presented to his shivering guest. But this the Traveller thought fit to blow likewise; and upon the Satyr’s demanding a reason why he blowed again, he replied: To cool his dish. This second answer provoked the Satyr’s indignation, as much as the first had kindled his surprise. So, taking the man by the shoulder, he thrust him out of doors, saying: He would have nothing to do with a wretch who had so vile a quality as to blow hot and cold with the same mouth.
Morals.
There is no conversing with any man that carries two faces under one hood.
Reflection.
Though the poor Traveller in the Fable was not guilty of any real crime in what he did, yet one cannot help approving the honest simplicity of the Satyr, who could not be reconciled to such double dealing. In the moral sense of the Fable, nothing can be more offensive to one of a sincere heart, than he that blows with a different breath from the same mouth; who flatters a man to his face, and reviles him behind his back. Some again, just like this man, to serve a present view, will blow nothing but what is warm, benevolent, and cherishing; and when they have raised the expectations of a dependant to a degree which they think may prove troublesome, can, with putting on a cold air, easily chill and blast all his blooming hopes. But such a temper, whether it proceeds from a designed or natural levity, is detestable, and has been the cause of much trouble and mortification to many a brave deserving man. Unless the tenor of a man’s life be always true and consistent with itself, the less one has to do with him the better.
Fable XL.
The Eagle, the Cat, and the Sow.
An Eagle had built her nest upon the top branches of an old oak. A wild Cat inhabited a hole in the middle; and in the hollow part at the bottom was a Sow, with a whole litter of pigs. A happy neighbourhood; and might long have continued so, had it not been for the wicked insinuations of the designing Cat. For, first of all, up she crept to the Eagle; and, good neighbour, says she, we shall be all undone: That filthy Sow yonder does nothing but lie routing at the foot of the tree, and, as I suspect, intends to grub it up, that she may the more easily come at our young ones. For my part I will take care of my own concerns; you may do as you please, but I will watch her motions, though I stay at home this month for it. When she had said this, which could not fail of putting the Eagle into a great fright, down she went, and made a visit to the Sow at the bottom; and, putting on a sorrowful face, I hope, says she, you do not intend to go abroad to-day? Why not? says the Sow. Nay, replies the other, you may do as you please; but I overheard the Eagle tell her young ones, that she would treat them with a pig the first time she saw you go out; and I am not sure but she may take up with a kitten in the meantime; so, good-morrow to you; you will excuse me, I must go and take care of the little folks at home. Away she went accordingly; and, by contriving to steal out softly at nights for her prey, and to stand watching and peeping all day at her hole, as under great concern, she made such an impression upon the Eagle and the Sow, that neither of them dared to venture abroad for fear of the other. The consequence of which was, that themselves, and their young ones, in a little time were all starved, and made prize of by the treacherous Cat and her kittens.
Morals.
There can be no peace in any state or family where whisperers and tale-bearers are encouraged.
Reflection.
Busy-bodies and intermeddlers are a dangerous sort of people to have to do withal; for there is no mischief that may not be wrought by the craft and management of a double tongue, with a foolish credulity to work upon. There is hardly a greater pest to government, to conversation, to the peace of societies, relations, and families, than officious tale-bearers and busy intermeddlers. These pick-thanks are enough to set mankind together by the ears; they live upon calumny and slander, and cover themselves, too, under the seal of secrecy and friendship; these are the people who set their neighbours’ houses on fire to roast their own eggs. The sin of traducing is diabolical, according to the very letter; and if the office be artificially managed, it is enough to put the whole world into a flame, and nobody the wiser which way it came. The mischief may be promoted, by misrepresenting, misunderstanding, or misinterpreting our neighbour’s thoughts, words, and deeds; and no wound so mortal, as that where the poison works under a pretence of kindness: nay, there are ways of commendation, and insinuations of affection and esteem, that kill a man as sure as a bullet. This practice is the bane of trust and confidence; and it is as frequent in the intrigues of courts and states, as in the most ordinary accidents of life. It is enough to break the neck of all honest purposes, to stifle all generous and public-spirited motions, and to suppress all honourable inclinations in the very conception. But, next to the practice of these lewd offices, deliver all honest men, say I, from lying at the mercy of those that encourage and entertain them.
Fable XLI.
The Cock and the Fox.
A Cock being perched among the branches of a lofty Tree, crowed aloud, so that the shrillness of his voice echoed through the wood and invited a Fox to the place, who was prowling in that neighbourhood, in quest of his prey. But Reynard, finding the Cock was inaccessible, by reason of the height of his situation, had recourse to stratagem, in order to decoy him down; so, approaching the tree, Cousin, says he, I am heartily glad to see you; but at the same time I cannot forbear expressing my uneasiness at the inconvenience of the place, which will not let me pay my respects to you in a handsomer manner; though I suppose you will come down presently, and so that difficulty is easily removed. Indeed, Cousin, says the Cock, to tell you the truth I don’t think it safe to venture myself upon the ground, for though I am convinced how much you are my friend, yet I may have the misfortune to fall into the clutches of some other beast, and what will become of me then? O dear, says Reynard, is it possible that you can be so ignorant, as not to know of the peace that has been lately proclaimed between all kinds of birds and beasts; and that we are, for the future, to forbear hostilities on all sides, and to live in the utmost love and harmony, and that under penalty of suffering the severest punishment that can be inflicted? All this while the Cock seemed to give little attention to what was said, but stretched out his neck, as if he saw something at a distance: Cousin, says the Fox, what’s that you look at so earnestly? Why, says the Cock, I think I see a pack of hounds yonder a little way off. Oh then, says the Fox, your humble servant, I must be gone. Nay, pray, Cousin, don’t go, says the Cock, I’m just coming down; sure you are not afraid of dogs in these peaceable times. No, no, says he; but ten to one whether they have heard of the proclamation yet.
Morals.
Perfidious people are naturally to be suspected in reports that favour their own interest.
Reflection.
It is a very agreeable thing to see craft repelled by cunning; more especially to behold the snares of the wicked broken and defeated by the discreet management of the innocent. The moral of this Fable principally puts us in mind, not to be too credulous towards the insinuations of those who are already distinguished by their want of faith and honesty. When, therefore, any such would draw us into a compliance with their destructive measures, by a pretended civility and extraordinary concern for our interest, we should consider such proposals in their true light, as a bait artfully placed to conceal the fatal hook, which is intended to draw us into captivity and thraldom. An honest man, with a little plain sense, may do a thousand advantageous things for the public good; and, without being master of much address or rhetoric, as easily convince people that his designs are intended for their welfare. But a wicked designing politician, though he has a tongue as eloquent as ever spoke, may sometimes be disappointed in his projects and be foiled in his schemes; especially when their destructive texture is so coarsely spun, and the threads of mischief are so large in them, as to be seen even by those whose senses are scarce perfect enough to see and understand them.
Fable XLII.
Age to be Honoured.
A pert and inconsiderate young Man happened to meet an old Man, whose age and infirmity had brought his body almost to the shape of a bent bow. Pray, father, says he, will you sell your bow? Save your money, you fool, says the other; for when you come to my years, you shall have such a bow for nothing.
Morals.
There cannot be a greater folly and impertinence, than that of young men scoffing at the infirmities of age.
Reflection.
We are all born to die, and it is every jot as certain that we shall go out of the world, as that we are already come into it: we are helpless in infancy; ungovernable in youth; our strength and vigour scarce outlast a morning sun; our infirmities hasten upon us as our years advance, and we grow helpless in our old age as in our infancy. What, then, have the best of us to boast of? Even time and human frailty alone will bring us to our end without the help of any accidents or distempers; so that our decays are as much the works of nature, as the first principles of our being; and the young man’s conceit of the crooked bow is no better than an irreverent way of making sport with the course of Providence; besides shewing the folly of scoffing at that in another which he himself was sure to come to at last, or worse.
Fable XLIII.
The Splenetic Traveller.
A splenetic and a facetious man were once upon a journey: the former went slugging on with a thousand cares and troubles in his head, exclaiming over and over: “Lord, what shall I do to live?” The other jogged merrily away, and left his matters to Providence and good fortune. “Well, brother,” says the sorrowful wight, “how can you be so frolicksome now? As I am a sinner, my heart’s e’en ready to break for fear I should want bread.” “Come, come,” says the other, “fall back, fall edge, I have fixed my resolution, and my mind’s at rest.” “Ay, but for all that,” says the other, “I have known the confidence of as resolute people as yourself has deceived them in the conclusion;” and so the poor man fell into another fit of doubting and musing, till he started out of it all on a sudden: “Good Sir!” says he, “what if I should fall blind?” and so he walked a good way before his companion with his eyes shut, to try how it would be if that misfortune should befall him. In this interim, his fellow-traveller, who followed him, found a purse of money upon the way, which rewarded his trust in Providence; whereas the other missed that encounter as a punishment of his distrust; for the purse had been his, as he went first, if he had not put himself out of condition of seeing it.