Chapter IV: Part II: FABLES, with Reflections (2)

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._

_Thus by the knave, in worldly guile adept,_
_Vows are perform’d and promises are kept:_
_True to the form, and fearful of offence,_
_Good soul! he swerves from nothing but the sense._

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._

_The man whom we fear and suspect for a cheat,_
_Can hardly delude us with art and deceit;_
_But he, in whose faith we securely confide,_
_May come round with impunity on our ~blind side~._

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._

_The knave profest may seem a gen’rous foe,_
_Deserves a rope, yet claims our pity too;_
_But dragg’d to light, and stript of his disguise,_
_The sneaking hypocrite unpitied dies._

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._

_Inactive wishes are but waste of time,_
_And, without efforts, pray’rs themselves a crime:_
_Vain are their hopes, who miracles expect,_
_And ask from heaven what themselves neglect._

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._

_Gladly Sir ~Clumsy~ would the world persuade,_
_Not he, but all mankind are vilely made;_
_And might the purblind and the deaf advise,_
_’Twere better for to want both ear and eyes._

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._

_That there’s a God all nature loud proclaims,_
_Tho’ the vile Atheist the great truth disclaims;_
_Or warp’d by prejudice, or sunk in sin,_
_His fright’ned conscience feels the lash within._

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._

_This life’s a scene of bustle, care, and noise,_
_Of certain trouble, and uncertain joys,_
_Death ends the contest, we can only have_
_A peaceful refuge in the silent grave._

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._

_They who by imitations covet fame,_
_Oft incur dangers, and solicit shame;_
_For though the bright original we prize,_
_His abject imitator all despise._

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._

_Happy the ready wit of men of parts,_
_Who on himself can turn the villain’s arts!_

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_.

_O now, while health and vigour still remain._
_Toil, toil, my lads, to purchase honest gain!_
_Shun idleness! shun pleasure’s tempting snare!_
_A youth of revels breeds an age of care._

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._

_When the loud laugh prevails at your expense,_
_All want of temper is but want of sense;_
_Would you disarm the sneerer of his jest,_
_Frown not, but laugh in concert with the rest._

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:—

The golden hair that _Galla_ wears
Is hers: who would have thought it?
She swears ’tis hers—and true she swears,
For I know _where_ she _bought_ it.

_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.

_But as the sun, refulgent globe of light,_
_By mists obscur’d, may shine more dimly bright;_
_Or by some sable cloud its lustre veil’d,_
_Lie hid in darkness from the world conceal’d;_
_So every joy which mortals here can know_
_Is damp’d by sorrow, or is mix’d with woe._
_Pleasure entire, from all assaults secure,_
_To no one’s granted, no one can ensure._
_Ungovern’d passions to such heights will rise,_
_That friendship’s self oft falls a sacrifice;_
_A fire is kindled in the human breast,_
_By words misconstru’d, or a simple jest,_
_As some one relish often spoils a feast._
_Thus sportful, frisking on the sunny green,_
_Two lambkins loving are not seldom seen:_
_Off from the flock they to a distance stray,_
_And all a battle represent in play;_
_Till some unlucky thrusts rouse up their rage,_
_Pretence is gone, in earnest they engage._
_Those whom she sung, the muse reluctant sees_
_Differ for causes trivial as these;_
_And full of anguish, sighing and alone,_
_Pours out her deep-felt melancholy moan:—_
_“Where dwelt their mutual fondness in that hour_
_When love took leave, and kindness now no more?_
_Alas! no more, in social converse join’d,_
_Shall they partake the rapture of the mind?_
_Placid content, shall fell disgust succeed,_
_And vexing discord make enjoyment bleed?_
_Forbid it, Heav’n! and to them gracious deign_
_Their strict agreeing harmony again!_
_All jarring thoughts at utmost distance keep,_
_And bid the former in oblivion sleep!”_

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.

MORALS.

_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?_

_“~Swift~ is obscure, and ~Addison~ wants taste,_
_~Shakespeare~ is low, and ~Milton~ all bombast”—
_Thus wit itself half-seeing fools condemn,_
_And sense and genius are all dark to them._

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._

_The fop, with empty jests and silly smile,_
_Women, or men like women, may beguile;_
_Howe’er with fools his senseless prate may pass,_
_The man of sense soon knows him for an Ass._

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.

_Asses and Owls, unseen, themselves betray,_
_When these attempt to hoot, or those to bray._

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._

_Wise are the people, who in peace prepare_
_Their fleets and armies for the distant war;_
_Who ne’er in treaties and conventions trust,_
_Nor leave the sword, though it be sheath’d, to rust._

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._

_Who lacks the pleasures of a tranquil mind,_
_Will something wrong in every station find;_
_His mind unsteady, and on changes bent,_
_Is always shifting, yet is ne’er content._

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._

_When wayward children in the pride of youth,_
_Scorn wisdom’s precepts, and the curb of truth;_
_Laugh at experience, and her sagest rules,_
_And hold restraints the doting fits of fools;_
_They thoughtless rush, where folly leads the way,_
_Where evils throng, and vice holds lordly sway._
_Yet hoary age by long experience knows,_
_Where vices flourish, and where evil grows;_
_With cautious fondness for the budding mind,_
_Warns from the path, where ill with ill’s combin’d;_
_Whilst heedless youth, in all the pomp of pride,_
_Spurn at his prudence, and his laws deride._
_A few short years disperse the dazzling shade,_
_Which fame excited, and which transports made;_
_Wearied and pall’d with pleasure’s fleeting joys,_
_Which madness raves for, and which health destroys;_
_Too late they find, by sage experience taught,_
_The rules of age are with true wisdom fraught._

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._

_The man that is poor may be void of all care,_
_If there’s nothing to hope, he has nothing to fear:_
_Whether stocks rise or fall, or whate’er be the news,_
_He is sure not to win, and has nothing to lose._

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._

_The Gods one time, as poets feign,_
_Would ~pleasure~ intermix with ~pain~;_
_And perfectly incorporate so,_
_As one from t’other none might know;_
_That mortals might alike partake_
_The Good and Evil which they make._

_In mighty bowl they put these twain,_
_And stirr’d and stirr’d, but all in vain:_
_~Pleasure~ would sometimes float aloft,_
_And ~pain~ keep ~pleasure~ down as oft:_
_Yet still from one another fly,_
_Detesting either’s company._

_The Gods, who saw they sooner might_
_Mix fire and water, day and night,_
_Unanimously then decreed_
_They should alternately succeed;_
_Each other’s motions still pursue,_
_And a perpetual round renew:_
_Yet still divided should remain,_
_Tho’ link’d together with a chain._

_Thence comes it that we never see_
_A perfect bliss or misery;_
_Each happiness has some alloy;_
_And ~grief~ succeeded is by ~joy~._
_The ~happiest~ mortal needs must own_
_He has a time of ~sorrow~ known:_
_Nor can the ~poorest~ wretch deny_
_But in his life he felt a joy._

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._

_When nations raise an idiot to the throne,_
_He shows the people’s weakness and his own._

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.