An Ass and an Ape were conferring on grievances. The Ass complained mightily for want of horns, and the Ape was as much troubled for want of a tail. Hold your tongues, both of ye, says the Mole, and be thankful for what you have; for the poor blind Moles are in a worse condition than either of ye.
Once upon a time the Hares found themselves mightily unsatisfied with the miserable condition they lived in. Here we live, says one of them, at the mercy of men, dogs, eagles, and I know not how many other creatures, which prey upon us at pleasure; perpetually in frights, perpetually in danger; and therefore I am absolutely of opinion, that we had better die once for all, than live at this rate in a continual dread that’s worse than death itself. The motion was seconded and debated, and a resolution immediately taken, by one and all, to drown themselves. The vote was no sooner passed, but away they scudded with that determination to the next lake. Upon this hurry there leapt a whole shoal of Frogs from the bank into the water, for fear of the Hares. Nay then, my masters, says one of the gravest of the company, pray let’s have a little patience. Our condition, I find, is not altogether so bad as we fancied it; for there are those, you see, that are as much afraid of us as we are of others.
There is no contending with the Orders and Decrees of Providence. He that makes us, knows what is fittest for us; and every man’s own lot (well understood and managed) is undoubtedly the best.
Since nature provides for the necessities of all creatures, and for the well-being of every one in its kind; and since it is not in the power of any creature to make itself other than what by Providence it was designed to be; what a madness is it to wish ourselves other than what we are, and what we must continue to be! Every atom of the creation has its place assigned: every creature has its proper figure, and there is no disputing with Him that made it so. Why have I not this? and, Why have I not that? are questions for a Philosopher of Bedlam to ask; and we may as well cavil at the motions of the heavens, the vicissitude of day and night, and the succession of the seasons, as expostulate with Providence upon any of the rest of God’s works. The Ass would have horns, the Ape would have a tail, and the Hares would be free from those terrors which, timid as they are, they give to others: but the Mole on the one hand, and the Frogs on the other, shew that there are others as miserable as themselves.
It may seem to be a kind of a malicious satisfaction that one man derives from the misfortune of another. But the philosophy of this reflection stands upon another ground; for our comfort does not arise from other people being miserable, but from this inference upon the balance, that we suffer only the lot of human nature: and as we are happy or miserable, compared with others; so other people are miserable or happy, compared with us; by which justice of Providence we come to be convinced of the sin, and the mistake, of our ingratitude. What would not a man give to be eased of the gout, or the stone? or, supposing an incurable poverty on the one hand, and an incurable malady on the other, why should not the poor man think himself happier in his rags, than the other in his purple? but the rich man envies the poor man’s health, without considering his want; and the poor man envies the other’s treasure, without considering his diseases. What is an ill name in the world to a good conscience within one’s self; and how much less miserable, upon the wheel, is one man that is innocent, than another under the same torture that is guilty? The only way for Hares and Asses, is to be thankful what they are, and what they have, and not to grumble at the lot that they must bear in spite of their teeth.
Where’s the honour or the pleasure in the world, says the Fly, in a dispute for preeminence with the Ant, that I have not my part in? Are not all temples and places open to me? Am not I the taster to gods and princes in all their sacrifices and entertainments? And all this without either money or pains? I trample upon crowns, and kiss what ladies’ lips I please. And what have you now to pretend to all this while? Vain boaster! says the Ant, dost thou not know the difference between the access of a guest, and that of an intruder? for people are so far from liking your company, that they kill you as soon as they catch you. You are a plague to them wherever you come. Your very breath has maggots in it; and for the kiss you brag of, what is it but the perfume of the last dunghill you touched upon, once removed? For my part, I live upon what’s my own, and work honestly in the summer to maintain myself in the winter; whereas the whole course of your scandalous life is only cheating or sharping one half of the year, and starving the other.
The happiness of life does not lie so much in enjoying small advantages, as in living free from great inconveniences. An honest mediocrity is the happiest state a man can wish for.
This fable marks out to us the difference betwixt the empty vanity or ostentation, and the substantial ornaments of virtue. A man can hardly fancy to himself a truer image of a plain, honest, country simplicity, than the Ant’s part of the dialogue in this fable. She takes pains for what she eats; wrongs nobody; and so creates no enemies; she wants nothing; and she boasts of nothing; lives contented with her own, and enjoys all with a good conscience. This emblem recommends to us the blessings of a virtuous privacy, according to the just measures of right nature, and, in few words, comprises the sum of a happy state.
The Fly, on the contrary, leads a lazy, voluptuous, scandalous, sharking life; is hated wherever she comes, and in perpetual fears and dangers. She justly may be compared with the worthless part of mankind, who pass through the world without being of any service in it; and without acquiring the least reputation, seldom fail of adding pride to all their other failings, and behave with haughtiness and arrogance towards those who contribute to the comfort and happiness of society. They treat industrious persons as wretched drudges, appointed to labour for a poor subsistence; while Heaven has provided everything for their own use, though they of all others least deserve it. But the worthy and industrious may always comfort themselves with this reflection, that the pride and extravagance of these idle creatures will at last bring them to shame and want, while their own honest labours will secure to them a life of plenty and affluence.
It is true she flutters from place to place, from feast to feast, brags of her interest at court, and of ladies’ favours: and what is this miserable insect at last, but the very picture of one of our ordinary trencher Esquires, that spends his time in hopping from the table of one great man to that of another, only to pick up scraps of intelligence, and to spoil good company; at other times officiously skipping up and down from levee to levee, and endeavouring to make himself necessary, wherever he thinks fit to be troublesome.
A proud pampered Horse, bedecked with gaudy trappings, met in his course a poor creeping Ass, under a heavy burden, that had chopt into the same track with him. Why, how now, sirrah, says he, do you not see by these arms and trappings to what master I belong? and do you not understand, that when I have that master of mine upon my back, the whole weight of the state rests upon my shoulders? Out of the way, thou slavish insolent animal, or I’ll tread thee to dirt. The wretched Ass immediately slunk aside, with this envious reflection between his teeth, What would I give to change conditions with that happy creature there! This fancy would not out of the head of him, till it was his hap, a little while after, to see this very Horse doing drudgery in a common dung-cart. Why, how now, friend, says the Ass, how comes this about? Only the chance of war, says the other: I was a General’s horse, you must know; and my master carried me into a battle, where I was hacked and maimed; and you have here before your eyes the catastrophe of my fortune.
This Fable shews the folly and the fate of pride and arrogance; and the mistake of placing happiness in anything that may be taken away; as also the blessing of freedom in a mean estate.
People would never envy the pomp and splendour of greatness, if they did but consider either the cares and dangers that go along with it, or the blessings of peace and security in a middle condition. No man can be truly happy, who is not every hour of his life prepared for the worst that can befall him. Now this is a state of tranquillity never to be attained but by keeping perpetually in our thoughts the certainty of death, and the lubricity of fortune; and by delivering ourselves from the anxiety of hopes and fears.
It falls naturally within the prospect of this fiction to treat of the wickedness of a presumptuous arrogance; the fate that attends it; the rise of it; and the means of either preventing or suppressing it; the folly of it; the wretched and ridiculous estate of a proud man, and the weakness of that envy that is grounded upon the mistaken happiness of human life.
The folly both of the Horse and Ass may be considered here; the one in placing his happiness upon anything that could be taken away; and the other, in envying that mistaken happiness, under the abuse of the same splendid illusion and imposture. What signify gay furniture, and a pampered carcase, or any other outward appearance, without an intrinsic value of worth and virtue? what signify beauty, strength, youth, fortune, embroidered furniture, gaudy bosses, or any of those temporary and uncertain satisfactions that may be taken from us with the very next breath we draw? what assurance can any man have of a possession that every turn of state, every puff of air, every change of humour, and the least of a million of common casualties, may deprive him of?
Moreover, the envy of the Ass was a double folly; for he mistakes both the Horse’s condition and his own. ’Tis madness to envy any creature that may in a moment become miserable, or for any advantage that may in a moment be taken from him. The Ass envies the Horse to-day; and, in some few days more, the Horse comes to envy him: wherefore let no man despair, so long as it is in the power either of death, or of chance, to remove the burden. Nothing but moderation and greatness of mind can make either a prosperous or an adverse fortune easy to us. The only way to be happy is to submit to our lot; for no man can be properly said to be miserable that is not wanting to himself. It is certainly true, that many a poor cobbler has a merrier heart in his stall, than a prince in his palace.
A poor innocent Stork had the ill hap to be taken in a net that was laid for geese and cranes. The Stork’s plea for herself was simplicity and piety, the love she bore to mankind, her duty to her parents, and the service she did in picking up venomous creatures. This may be all true, says the Husbandman, for what I know; but as you have been taken with ill company, you must expect to suffer with it.
Our fortune and reputation require us to keep good company; for as we may be easily perverted by the force of bad examples, wise men will judge of us by the company we keep. What says the proverb? Birds of a feather will flock together.
The world will always form an idea of the character of every man from his associates. Nor is this rule founded on wrong principles; for, generally speaking, those who are constant companions are either drawn together from a similitude of manners, or from such a similitude to each other by daily commerce and continual conversation.
If bad company had nothing else to make us shun and avoid it, this, methinks, might be sufficient, that it infects and taints a man’s reputation to as great a degree as if he were thoroughly versed in the wickedness of the whole gang. What is it to me if the thief who robs me of my money gives part of it to build a church? Is he ever the less a thief? Shall a woman’s going to prayers twice a day, save her reputation, if she is known to be a malicious lying gossip? No; such mixtures of religion and sin make the offence but the more flagrant, as they convince us that it was not committed out of ignorance. Indeed, there is no living without being guilty of some faults, more or less; which the world ought to be good-natured enough to overlook, in consideration of the general frailty of mankind, when they are not too gross and too abundant. But, when we are so abandoned to stupidity, and a neglect of our reputation, as to keep bad company, however little we may be criminal in reality, we must expect the same censure and punishment as is due to the most notorious of our companions.
A Dog, crossing a little rivulet with a piece of flesh in his mouth, saw his own shadow represented in the clear mirror of the limpid stream; and believing it to be another Dog who was carrying another piece of flesh, he could not forbear catching at it; but was so far from getting anything by his greedy design, that he dropt the piece he had in his mouth, which immediately sunk to the bottom, and was irrecoverably lost.
Excessive greediness mostly in the end misses what it aims at; disorderly appetites seldom obtain what they would have; passions mislead men, and often bring them into great straits and inconveniences, through heedlessness and negligence.
It is wisely decreed that vice should carry its own punishment along with it. Therefore he that catches at more than belongs to him, justly deserves to lose what he has; yet nothing is more common, and, at the same time, more pernicious, than this selfish principle. It prevails from the king to the peasant; and all orders and degrees of men are, more or less, infected with it. Great monarchs have been drawn in, by this greedy humour, to grasp at the dominions of their neighbours; not that they wanted anything more to feed their luxury, but to gratify their insatiable appetite for vainglory. If the Kings of Persia could have been contented with their own vast territories, they had not lost all Asia, for the sake of a little petty state of Greece. And France, with all its glory, has, ere now, been reduced to the last extremity by the same unjust incroachments.
He that thinks he sees another’s estate in a pack of cards, or a box and dice, and ventures his own in the pursuit of it, should not repine if he finds himself a beggar in the end.
As a Peacock and a Crane were in company together, the Peacock spread his tail, and challenged the other to shew him such a fan of feathers. You brag of your plumes, says the Crane, that are fair indeed to the eye, but fit for nothing but to attract the eyes of children and fools. Do as I do, if you can; and then, with a suitable contempt, he springs up into the air, leaving the gaping Peacock staring after him till his eyes ached.
There cannot be a greater sign of a weak mind than a person’s valuing himself on a gaudy outside; whether it be on the beauties of person, or the still vainer pride of fine clothes.
It is very absurd to slight or insult another upon his wanting a property which we possess; for he may, for anything we know, have as just reason to triumph over us, by being master of some good quality of which we are incapable. But, in regard to the fable before us, that which the Peacock values himself upon, the glitter and finery of dress, is one of the most trifling considerations in nature; and what a man of sense would be ashamed to reckon even as the least part of merit. Indeed, children, and those people who think much about the same pitch with them, are apt to be taken with varnish and tinsel; but they who examine by the scale of common sense, must find something of weight and substance before they can be persuaded to set a value. The mind which is stored with virtuous and rational sentiments, and the behaviour which speaks complacence and humility, stamp an estimate upon the possessor which all judicious spectators are ready to admire and acknowledge. But if there be any merit in an embroidered coat, a brocade waistcoat, a shoe, a stocking, or a sword-knot, the person who wears them has the least claim to it; let it be ascribed where it justly belongs—to the several artisans who wrought and disposed the materials of which they consist. This moral is not intended to derogate anything from the magnificence of fine clothes and rich equipages, which, as times and circumstances require, may be used with decency and propriety enough. But one cannot help being concerned lest any worth should be affixed to them more than their own intrinsic value.
A Shepherd’s Boy kept his sheep upon a common, and in sport and wantonness had gotten a roguish trick of crying, A wolf! a wolf! when there was no such matter, and fooling the country people with false alarms. He had been at this sport so many times in jest, that they would not believe him at last when he was in earnest; and so the wolves broke in upon the flock, and worried the sheep without resistance.
This fable shews us the dangerous consequences of an improper and unseasonable fooling. The old moral observes, that a common liar shall not be believed, even when he speaks true.
It is not every man’s talent to know when and how to cast out a pleasant word, with such a regard to modesty and respect as not to transgress the true and fair allowances of wit, good-nature, and good breeding. The skill and faculty of governing this freedom within the terms of sobriety and discretion, goes a great way in the character of an agreeable companion: for that which we call raillery, in this sense, is the very sauce of civil entertainment; and without some such tincture of urbanity, even in matters the most serious, the good-humour falters for want of refreshment and relief; but there is a medium yet betwixt all-fool and all-philosopher; I mean a proper and discreet mixture, that in some sort partakes of both, and renders wisdom itself so much the more grateful and effectual. The gravity, in short, of the one is enlivened with the spirit and quickness of the other; and the gaiety of a diverting word serves as a vehicle to convey the force of the intent and meaning of it.
The Shepherd’s Boy, in short, to come closer to the fable, went too far upon a topic he did not understand. And he that is detected for being a notorious liar, besides the ignominy and reproach of the thing, incurs this mischief, that he will scarce be able to get any one to believe him again as long as he lives. However true our complaint may be, or how much soever it may be for our interest to have it believed, yet, if we have been frequently caught tripping before, we shall hardly be able to gain credit to what we relate afterwards. Though mankind are generally stupid enough to be often imposed upon, yet few are so senseless as to believe a notorious liar, or to trust a cheat upon record. These little shams, when found out, are sufficiently prejudicial to the interest of every private person who practises them. But, when we are alarmed with imaginary dangers in respect of the public, till the cry grows quite stale and threadbare, how can it be expected we should know when to guard ourselves against real ones.
A very honest man happened to have a contentious brood of children. He called for a rod, and bade them try one after another, with all their force, if they could break it. They tried, and could not. Well, says he, unbind it now, and take every twig of it apart, and see what you can do that way. They did so, and with great ease, by one and one, they snapped it all to pieces. This, says he, is the true emblem of your condition: keep together, and you are safe; divide, and you are undone.
The breach of unity puts the world into a state of war, and turns every man’s hand against his brother; but so long as that band holds, it is the strength of all the several parts of it gathered into one, and is not easily subdued.
This fable imitates the force of union, and the danger of division. Intestine commotions have destroyed many a powerful state; and it is as ruinous in private affairs as it is in public. A divided family can no more stand than a divided commonwealth; for every individual suffers in the neglect of a common safety. It is a strange thing that men should not do that under the government of rational spirit, and a natural prudence, which wolves and bears do by the impulse of an animal instinct. For they, we see, will make head, one and all, against a common enemy; whereas the generality of mankind lie pecking at one another, till one by one they are all torn to pieces, never considering (as this fable teaches) the necessity and benefits of union.
A Countryman who had lived handsomely in the world upon his honest labour and industry, was desirous his Sons should do so after him; and being now upon his death-bed, My dear children, says he, I reckon myself bound to tell you before I depart, that there is a considerable treasure hid in my vineyard; wherefore pray be sure to dig, and search narrowly for it, when I am gone. The Father dies, and the Sons fall immediately to work upon the vineyard. They turned it up over and over, and not one penny of money to be found there; but the profit of the next vintage expounded the riddle.
Good counsel is the best legacy a Father can leave to a Child; and it is still the better, when it is so wrapt up, as to beget a curiosity as well as an inclination to follow it.
There is no wealth like that which comes by the blessing of God upon honest labour and warrantable industry. Here is an incitement to an industrious course of life, by a consideration of the profit, the innocence, and the virtue of such an application. There is one great comfort in hand, besides the hope and assurance of more to come. It was a touch of art in the Father to cover his meaning in such a manner as to create a curiosity and an earnest desire in his Sons to find it out. And it was a treble advantage to them besides; for there was health in the exercise, profit in the discovery, and the comfort of a good conscience in discharging the duty of a filial obedience.
A Stag that had been drinking at a clear spring, saw himself in the water; and, pleased with the prospect, stood afterwards for some time contemplating and surveying his shape and features, from head to foot. Ah! says he, what a glorious pair of branching horns are there! how gracefully do those antlers hang over my forehead, and give an agreeable turn to my whole face! If some other parts of my body were but proportionable to them, I would turn my back to nobody; but I have a set of such legs as really makes me ashamed to see them. People may talk what they please of their conveniences, and what great need we stand in of them upon several occasions; but for my part, I find them so very slender and unsightly, that I had as lief have none at all. While he was giving himself these airs, he was alarmed with the noise of some Huntsmen and a pack of hounds that had been just laid on upon the scent, and were making towards him. Away he flies in some consternation, and, bounding nimbly over the plain, threw dogs and men at a vast distance behind him. After which, taking a very thick copse, he had the ill-fortune to be entangled by his horns in a thicket; where he was held fast, till the hounds came in and pulled him down. Finding now how it was like to go with him, in the pangs of death, he is said to have uttered these words: Unhappy creature that I am! I am too late convinced, that what I prided myself in has been the cause of my undoing; and what I so much disliked, was the only thing that could have saved me.
We should examine things deliberately, and candidly consider their real usefulness before we place our esteem on them; otherwise, like the foolish Stag, we may happen to admire those accomplishments which are of no real use, and often prove prejudicial to us, while we despise those things on which our safety may depend.
Perhaps we cannot apply this better, than by supposing the fable to be a parable; which may be thus explained. The Deer, viewing itself in the water, is a beautiful young lady at her looking-glass. She can’t help being sensible of the charms which lie blooming in every feature of her face. She moistens her lips, languishes with her eyes, adjusts every lock of her hair with the nicest exactness, gives an agreeable attitude to her whole body, and then, with a soft sigh, says to herself, Ah! how happy might I be, in a daily crowd of admirers, if it were not for the censoriousness of the age! When I view that face, where Nature, to give her her due, has been liberal enough of charms, how easy should I be, if it were not for that slender particular, my honour. The odious idea of that comes across all my happy moments, and brings a mortification with it that damps my most flattering tender hopes. Oh that there were no such thing in the world! In the midst of these soliloquies, she is interrupted by the voice of her lover, who enters her chamber singing a rigadoon air; and, introducing his discourse in a familiar easy manner, takes occasion to launch out in praise of her beauty, sees she is pleased with it, snatches her hand, kisses it in a transport; and in short, pursues his point so close, that she is not able to disengage herself from him. But, when the consequence of all this approaches, in an agony of grief and shame, she fetches a deep sigh, and says, “Ah! how mistaken have I been! the virtue I slighted might have saved me; but the beauty I prized so much has been my undoing.”
A Villager, in a frosty, snowy winter, found a Snake under a hedge, almost dead with cold. He could not help having compassion for the poor creature, so brought it home, and laid it upon the hearth near the fire; but it had not lain there long before (being revived with the heat) it began to erect itself, and fly at his wife and children, filling the whole cottage with dreadful hissings. The countryman hearing an outcry, and perceiving what the matter was, catched up a mattock, and soon dispatched him, upbraiding him at the same time in these words: “Is this, vile wretch, the reward you make to him that saved your life? Die, as you deserve; but a single death is too good for you.”
It is no strange thing to see a reprobate fool throw his poisonous language about against those who are so inadvertent as to concern themselves with him.
’Tis the nature of ingrates to return evil for good; and the moralists in all ages have incessantly declaimed against the enormity of this crime, concluding that they who are capable of hurting their benefactors, are not fit to live in a community; being such, as the natural ties of parent, friend, or country, are too weak to restrain within the bounds of society. Indeed, the sin of ingratitude is so detestable, that, as none but the most inhuman temper can be guilty of it, so, in writing to men, there is no occasion to use many words, either in exposing the vice itself, or dissuading people from the commission of it. Therefore it is not likely that a person of Æsop’s sagacity would have compiled this fable, without having something else in view, besides this trite and obvious subject. He certainly intended to put us in mind, That, as none but a poor silly clown would go to take up a Snake and cherish it, so we shall be very negligent and ill-advised, if, in doing good offices, we do not take care to bestow our benevolence upon proper objects. It was not at all unnatural in the Snake to hiss, and brandish his tongue, and fly at the first that came near him; as soon at the person that saved his life as any other; indeed more likely, because nobody else had so much to do with him. Nor is it strange at any time to see a reprobate fool throwing his poisonous language about, and committing his extravagances against those, more especially, who are so inadvertent as to concern themselves with him. The snake and the reprobate will not appear extraordinary in their malevolence. But the sensible part of mankind cannot help thinking those guilty of great indiscretion who receive either of them into their protection.
A Gnat, half starved with cold and hunger, went one frosty morning to a Bee-hive, to beg a charity; and offered to teach music in the Bee’s family, for her diet and lodging. The Bee very civilly desired to be excused: For, says she, I bring up all my children to my own trade, that they may be able to get their living by their industry; and I am sure I am right; for see what that music, which you would I teach my children, has brought you yourself to.
Industry ought to be diligently inculcated in the minds of children of all ranks and degrees; for who stands so sure as to say he is exempt from the vicissitudes of this uncertain life?
The many unhappy persons whom we daily see singing up and down in order to divert other people, though with very heavy hearts of their own, should warn all those who have the education of children, how necessary it is to bring them up to industry and business, be their present prospects ever so hopeful; that so, upon any unexpected disaster, they might be able to turn their hands to a course which might procure them an honest livelihood.
The Gnat in the fable, we may further observe, is very like many inconsiderate persons in life. They gaily buz about in the summer of prosperity, and think of nothing but their present enjoyments: but when the winter of adversity comes, they poorly creep about, and supplicate the industrious inhabitants of every Bee-hive, charitably to relieve those wants which they have brought upon themselves; and often deservedly meet the repulse, and the sting, which the Bee gives to the Gnat in the fable. We have seen many a doted-on child, who has been brought up to singing, dancing, and all the gay delights of this world, and yet has been forced to shut up the last scene of a miserable life in want and beggary; which had been prevented, if they had been early taught the value of industry and independency, and the means, by the former, of attaining the latter.
A Man was felling a tree on the bank of a river; and by chance let his hatchet slip out of his hand, which dropt into the water, and immediately sunk to the bottom. Being therefore in great distress for the loss of his tool, he sat down and bemoaned himself most lamentably. Upon this, Mercury appeared to him, and, being informed of the cause of his complaint, dived to the bottom of the river, and coming up again, showed the man a golden hatchet, demanding if that were his. He denied that it was. Upon which Mercury dived a second time, and brought up a silver one. The man refused it, alleging likewise that this was not his. He dived a third time, and fetched up the individual hatchet the man had lost; upon sight of which the poor wretch was overjoyed, and took it with all humility and thankfulness. Mercury was so pleased with the fellow’s honesty, that he gave him the other two into the bargain, as a reward for his just dealing. The man goes to his companions, and giving them an account of what had happened, one of them went presently to the river’s side, and let his hatchet fall designedly into the stream. Then sitting down upon the bank, he fell a weeping and lamenting, as if he had been really and sorely afflicted. Mercury appeared as before, and diving, brought him up a golden hatchet, asking if that was the hatchet he lost. Transported at the precious metal, he answered, Yes; and went to snatch it greedily. But the god detesting his abominable impudence, not only refused to give him that, but would not so much as let him have his own hatchet again.