BEWICK’S SELECT FABLES.

“Is not the earth

With various living creatures, and the air

Replenished, and all those at thy command

To come and play before thee? Knowest thou not

Their language and their ways? They also know,

And reason not contemptibly: with these

Find pastime.”

—Paradise Lost, b. viii. l. 370.

The above appeared on the titles of both the 1776 and 1784 editions of “Select Fables,” T. Saint, Newcastle-upon-Tyne.

Bewick’s Select Fables
OF ÆSOP AND OTHERS.

In Three Parts.

I. Fables extracted from Dodsley’s.
II. Fables with Reflections in Prose and Verse.
III. Fables in Verse.

TO WHICH ARE PREFIXED
THE LIFE OF ÆSOP, AND AN ESSAY UPON FABLE
BY OLIVER GOLDSMITH.

Faithfully Reprinted from the Rare Newcastle Edition published
by T. Saint in 1784.

With the Original Wood Engravings by Thomas Bewick,
AND AN
Illustrated Preface by Edwin Pearson.

LONDON:
BICKERS & SON, 1 LEICESTER SQUARE, W.C.

PRINTED BY BALLANTYNE AND COMPANY
EDINBURGH AND LONDON

Thomas Bewick

Engraver on Wood.

Jaˢ. Ramsay Pinxᵗ. Henry Hoppner Meyer Sculpᵗ.

PREFACE TO 1871 EDITION.

In the various periods of the world’s history men have appeared who were gifted with greater powers of mind and intelligence than the majority of the people in whose age they lived, who, by becoming the preceptors or teachers of the masses, evidently fulfilled the designs of the Creator, by promoting civilisation and happiness, by unity of thought and knowledge. Such men were Æsop, William Shakespeare, Fielding, Scott, and many others, and later, in our own time, Thackeray and Charles Dickens. One of the most ancient and interesting methods of conveying instruction was by the art of Fable, Allegory, or Parable.

Fable is an ingenious method of conveying advice and instruction, without seeming so to do, by a diverting little narrative, which, attracting attention, irresistibly chains it till the moral is imperceptibly rooted in the mind, there to influence, for the better it may be, all future actions of importance. Æsop was, and is, the most favourite of Fabulists, of whom a fair and goodly succession have since appeared; but still he maintains, and will continue to maintain the foremost place in literature as a writer of instructive and entertaining Fables. We here reprint an edition comparatively unknown in the present generation, illustrated by the graver of Bewick, and arranged by the pen of Goldsmith. Bewick and Goldsmith’s early works are comparatively unknown to the literary and reading world. We all know that Bewick designed and engraved the inimitable “British Quadrupeds,” “Birds,” “Fables,” &c., and that Goldsmith wrote the “Vicar of Wakefield,” “Traveller,” “Deserted Village,” &c., but what do we know of their early works—the progressive steps by which they attained their wondrous and well-earned celebrity? It has been the pleasing pursuit of the writer (for some years) to search for, and rescue from destruction and oblivion, all possible early works of Bewick and Goldsmith. The result has exceeded his most sanguine expectations. He has discovered at least twenty little works written by Goldsmith during his weary hours of adversity, all bearing strong internal evidence of the author’s mind and style. (A work on this subject is preparing for the press, profusely illustrated with original woodcuts, &c.) The early editions of the present work were printed by T. Saint, of Newcastle-upon-Tyne. We will here give a very brief resumé of Bewick’s earliest works (published by Saint), with a few woodcuts from the original blocks, thus illustrating the progressive stages of pictorial fine art by which Thomas Bewick succeeded in producing the wood-engravings which embellish the present volume, of which (edit. 1784) Jackson, in his work on wood-engraving (1861, p. 480), says:—

“He (Bewick) evidently improved as his talents were exercised; for the cuts in the “Select Fables,” 1784, are generally much superior to those in “Gay’s Fables,” 1779. The animals are better drawn and engraved; the sketches of landscape in the backgrounds are more natural; and the engraving of the foliage of the trees and bushes is not unfrequently scarce inferior to that of his later productions.”

Jackson gives three examples of these Fable cuts in his work, at pp. 480, 503 (“Wood-Engravings,” 1861). Thomas Bewick was apprenticed to R. Beilby, October 1, 1767. It is probable that the cuts given in next page are among the very first engraved by Thomas Bewick during his apprenticeship, and were used in “A New Invented Horn Book,” also in “Battledores,” “Primers,” and “Reading Easies.” He then executed the diagrams for Hutton on Mensuration, 4to, 1770. One of the cuts is given in “Jackson” (p. 475), a representation of St Nicholas’ celebrated steeple. This is the first known pictorial attempt of Bewick’s.

“Horn Book” Cuts.

Facsimile of Bewick’s cut, St. Nicholas’ Steeple, Newcastle, 1770.

No doubt coarse cuts were done by Bewick about this time for local Ballads, Broadsides, Garlands, and Histories.

The next recognised work I discovered myself, the “New Lottery-Book of Birds and Beasts, for Children to learn their Letters by, as soon as they can speak” (Saint, 1771, 32mo, bds. and gilt). Two of the cuts follow.

The “Child’s Tutor” (Saint, 1772-73, square 24mo), cuts, with verses, &c., by Oliver Goldsmith. The following is undoubtedly by the Poet’s hand:—“The Lilliputian Magazine; or, the Young Gentleman and Lady’s Golden Library, being an attempt to mend the World, to render the Society of Man more amiable, and to establish the Plainness, Simplicity, Virtue, and Wisdom of the Golden Age, so much celebrated by the Poets and Historians—

‘Man in that age no rule but Reason knew,

And with a native bent did Good pursue;

Unforc’d by Punishment, unaw’d by Fear,

His Words were Simple and his Soul Sincere.’”

(T. Saint, circa 1772, early Bewick woodcuts, 144 pp. 24mo.) The verse and title bear the undoubted impress of his genius and style. Oliver Goldsmith wrote it for J. Newbery, of London, but, as I shall show in my larger work on this subject, there was an arrangement between them by which Saint reprinted many of his (Newbery’s) little books for the North-Country trade. We then have “Moral Instructions of a Father to his Son,” comprehending the whole system of Morality, &c., &c.; and “Select Fables,” extracted from Dodsley, and others, adorned with emblematical cuts, 12mo, T. Saint, Newcastle, 1772 and 1775. This, then, is one of the first works of Saint’s we have seen containing cuts of Fables.

Having a doubt respecting the cuts of this rare book, I took my copy to Miss Bewick (Jan. 1867), and inquired of her if they were engraved by her father. She kindly gave me the following authentic information:—“The cuts were engraved by Thomas Bewick in the first year of his apprenticeship (1767-68), excepting the cut of a ship at sea, p. 167. This was engraved by David Martin, Bewick’s fellow-apprentice, Bewick at this time disliking to represent ‘water.’” This, then, sets all doubt at rest respecting the cuts in an “Æsop’s Fables,” “Gay’s Fables,” &c., &c., published by Saint about this date, in which the same and similar cuts were used. The following, used in “Gay,” is evidently Bewick’s first attempt at the subject for which he afterwards gained a premium.

“Moral Instructions,” 1772, and “Select Fables,” 1776.

“Select Fables,” Æsop, &c. (Saint, 1776).

The next is the first edition of the present volume, “Select Fables” (T. Saint, Newcastle, 1776). In three Parts. Part I. After the Manner of Dodsley’s. Part II. Fables with Reflections. Part III. Fables in Verse. To which are prefixed the Life of Æsop; and An Essay upon Fable—(same Verse and Vignette, as in the 2d Edition, of 1784). Containing one hundred and fourteen cuts, including those mentioned in the “Moral Instructions,” described above, and fourteen larger and much superior cuts, with borders, afterwards used with others in “Gay’s Fables,” printed by T. Saint, in 1779. The same vignette appears on the title as in the Second Edition of this Book in 1784. It also has a copperplate frontispiece, “R. Beilby delint. et sculpt.” 12mo, 211 pages, 2 pages of Index, &c. (notice the variations in the title, &c., to the 1784 edition). The only copy of this edition (1776) I ever had, or saw, is now in the unique collection of E. B. Jupp, Esq., who has kindly lent the block for the Frontispiece to the present Edition. It was engraved for “The Beauties of Æsop” (Kendal, circa 1800-22), by Thomas Bewick, and is somewhat like Beilby’s copperplate frontispiece to 1776 Edition, but infinitely improved. It contains about seventy delineations of animal and bird life, &c. (see the tailpiece at page 122 of present edition, extremely like in arrangement, execution, &c.), while the portrait of Æsop is certainly the most reasonable I have yet seen in examining the numerous editions which have passed through my hands.

About this time, 1773 to 1776, many works issued from Saint’s press—“Robinson Crusoe,” “Watt’s Songs,” Oliver Goldsmith’s “Tommy Trip” (see my reprint, of 1867), “Goody Two Shoes,” “Golden Toy or Fairing,” “Tom Telescope’s Newtonian Philosophy,” “Tommy Tagg’s Poems,” and numerous others. Examples of cuts follow.

Similar to “Tommy Trip” series of Cuts.

“Tommy Two Shoes.”

“Adventures of a Kitten.”

“Holy Bible in Miniature.”

“Memoirs of a Peg-Top.”

“Poetical Fabulator.”

A New Edition of “Tommy Tagg,” with sixty cuts, will shortly be printed. (Specimen of the Woodcuts.)

“The Concert of Birds,” from “Tommy Tagg.”

“Story-Teller.”

We now reach a period to which Bewick himself thus refers at pages 59, 60 of his “Memoirs” (Longman, 1862):—“We were occasionally applied to by (local) printers to execute woodcuts for them.... Orders were received for cuts for Children’s Books, chiefly for Thomas Saint, printer, Newcastle, and successor of John White, who had rendered himself famous for his numerous publications of histories and old ballads.... My time now became greatly taken up with designing and cutting a set of wood blocks for the ‘Story-Teller,’ ‘Gay’s Fables,’ and ‘Select Fables,’ together with cuts of a similar kind for printers.”

The following are among those referred to by Bewick:—“Youth’s Instructive and Entertaining Story-Teller, being a Choice Collection of Moral Tales, Chiefly deduced from real Life, calculated to enforce the Practice of Virtue, and expand every social Idea in the Human heart. Adorned with emblematical cuts from the most interesting part of each Tale, and methodised after the Plan recommended by the late ingenious Dr Goldsmith. To which is added, by way of Preface, Thoughts on the Present Mode of Education.” (Newcastle, T. Saint.) Three Editions, circa 1774-7-8, 12mo, thirty-seven woodcuts. The cuts in this book are larger than any in the preceding books. We give the cut at page 48 of a Shipwrecked Sailor kneeling on a rock saying his prayers, the tide rising around him, which is the first and earliest engraving of this subject by T. Bewick, afterwards one of his favourite Vignettes in the “British Birds.” The others are all about the size of the cuts in “Gay’s Fables,” 1779, or “Select Fables,” 1784, and have similar borders.

“Bob Easy.”

“The Huntsman and Old Hound.”

“Jackson” refers to this and the following two works:—“Gay’s Fables.” Fables by the late Mr Gay, in One Volume complete, Newcastle, printed by and for T. Saint, 1779, 12mo, 77 cuts of Fables, with borders and 33 Vignettes; for the tasteful and clever engraving of five of the cuts (one, the Huntsman and Old Hound[1]) the Royal Society of Arts presented Bewick with their medal; it is further embellished with a beautifully engraved Frontispiece, by R. Beilby (T. Saint, Newcastle, 1779). We give an impression of the original wood-engraving, exceedingly interesting, as now Bewick seems to have received the required impetus or encouragement to produce the engravings for “Select Fables,” T. Saint, 1784. In three parts. Part I. Fables extracted from Dodsley’s; Part II. Fables, with Reflections in Prose and Verse; Part III. Fables in Verse; to which are prefixed the Life of Æsop, and an Essay upon Fable, A New Edition Improved. For this edition a new set of cuts was engraved by Thomas Bewick. “These cuts were then deemed superior to any of Bewick’s previous productions.” The same year another impression of this work was printed with the same title page, but considerable variations in the letterpress, and vignettes occur at pages 122, 125, and 152, which are not in the former edition, printed in 1784, 12mo. This is the book we now reprint (Saint’s collection of Bewick’s blocks having passed into my hands.) An original copy of the 1784 edition in fine state is so rare, that a copy has realised, at auction, £7, 10s. Bewick says (p. 60, “Memoir,” 1862): “Some of the Fable (“Gay,” 1779) cuts were thought so much of by my master (Beilby), that he, in my name, sent impressions of a few of them to be laid before the Society for the Encouragement of Arts, &c., and I obtained a premium.” (Seven guineas, which he took intense pleasure in presenting to his mother.) We have thus, by easy stages, travelled through the various phases of talent, to the most important work produced before his well-known “British Quadrupeds,” first published 1790; “British Birds,” 1797, 1804; and his large edition of “Æsop’s Fables,” 1818 (each work embellished with his inimitable and ever-pleasing vignettes). Examples from all these works follow.

“The Chillingham Wild Bull.”—Bewick’s large engraving of this subject, with border, has realised twenty guineas. See “Jackson on Wood-Engraving.”

British Quadrupeds.

Vignette to “Quadrupeds.”

“Select Fables,” 1820, Charnley’s Edition, 8vo, and in early Children’s Books (Saint, Newcastle).

Intended for “Bewick’s British Birds”—“Chimney Swallow,” injured and rejected.

Facsimile of Bewick’s Skylark.

Vignette to “Birds.”—Angler and Sportsman.

Engraved for “Bewick’s Æsop,” 1818, unfinished and rejected.

Vignette to “Æsop.”

These remarks are rapidly written, but they are the result of years of research and study: so that the reader of this Preface has a brief resumé of Bewick’s talents from his earliest efforts to his most finished productions; a result which no one living is able to give from the original woodcuts but myself; thus forming a most useful manual or pictorial aid to connoisseurs in selecting early works illustrated by “Bewick,” the more valuable, as scarcely any of the works mentioned as published by Saint are in the British Museum.

Now, as to the “Goldsmith” interest as connected with this work, the 1776 Newcastle edition was evidently copied from “Dodsley’s” and other editions of “Select Fables of Æsop” published in London prior to this period. In the meantime, J. Newbery and others, for whom Goldsmith wrote prefaces and arranged and edited books, had published new editions, so that when Saint went to press with “A New Edition Improved” (with a new set of cuts by the Bewicks), evidently the book was remodelled and extended from one that Goldsmith had just edited. In Dodsley’s Preface to his Fables, he says “he has been assisted in it by gentlemen of the most distinguished abilities; and that several, both of the old and the new Fables, are not written by himself, but by authors with whom it is an honour to be connected.” Dodsley also refers to the Life of Æsop, &c., as being written by “a learned and ingenious friend.” Doubtless Dr Johnson and Goldsmith were the “authors,” and Goldsmith the “friend,” here referred to. Be that as it may, the present work bears sufficient internal evidence in the “Essay on Fable,” the “Poetical Applications,” and the “Fables in Verse,” that Oliver Goldsmith was the author; for it is identical in style with numerous prefaces and essays written about this period by Oliver Goldsmith for Newbery, Dodsley, Griffiths, and others. Much conclusive evidence on this interesting subject will be given in my new book on “The early works of Bewick and Goldsmith” (a Prospectus of which will shortly be issued). The applications to this edition are infinitely superior to any edition which had appeared prior to its publication. In Sir Roger L’Estrange and Croxall’s editions, the applications were warped away from their original and intended effect by political distortions and obsolete terms, which often strayed far from, instead of assisting, the subject. It is somewhat refreshing, then, in the edition here reprinted, to meet with some applications which are everything that could be desired, in easy, naturally flowing, and apt language, just to the point; and who was so much a master of such language as Oliver Goldsmith?—of whom Dr Johnson said, “He left no species of writing unadorned.” It may be interesting here to quote from Bewick’s Memoir of himself (not published till 1862), his opinion of this book, which at once justifies the parent, preceptor, or friend, in selecting this as a most suitable present for the young of both sexes; he says (pages 172-3):—“I was extremely fond of that book (‘Æsop’s Fables’); and as it had afforded me much pleasure, I thought, with better executed designs, it would impart the same kind of delight to others that I had experienced from attentively reading it. I was also of opinion, that it had (while admiring the cuts) led hundreds of young men into the paths of wisdom and rectitude, and in that way had materially assisted the pulpit.”

The lessons intended to be conveyed through the medium of Fable are certainly plainer and easier to be understood in this edition than in the once popular “Croxall;” and the publishers believe, therefore, that the book in its present form will be found a powerful auxiliary in the important practical feeling for the education of the rising generation, illustrated as it is by the early but forcible and natural rendering of these Fables by the inimitable Bewick, through the medium of which is imparted the profound good sense, wisdom, and experience of the ancient philosophers. I have already exceeded the limits of an ordinary Preface. On a future occasion I will endeavour to show how coincidently Bewick and Goldsmith worked together to produce results—the importance of which can scarcely be fully estimated. I will now conclude with one of those exquisite little pictures of nature that will never cease to exhibit the true art of pleasing as long as “the language of England is spoken, or her literature cultivated.”

EDWIN PEARSON.

“Say, should the philosophic mind disdain

That good, which makes each humble bosom vain?

Let school-taught pride dissemble all it can,

These little things are great to little man.”

THE LIFE OF ÆSOP.

Æsop, according to the best accounts, was a native of Phrygia, a province of the Lesser Asia, and born in the city Cotiæum.[2] He was a person of a remarkable genius, and extraordinary character; for though he was born a slave, by the assistance of his genius and virtue only, he procured his own emancipation. By his sage counsels and judicious advice he directed his countrymen to measures that secured their liberty, and by a single Fable baffled the tyrannical projects of Crœsus, King of Lydia. The most part of writers agree that his person was but unseemly, though there are some of a contrary opinion.[3] It is probable that he was of a low and diminutive stature, though agreeable in his complexion, and polite in his manners. It is, however, certain that he had a great soul, and was endowed with extraordinary mental qualifications; his moral character approached to a degree of perfection to which very few have attained. He appears to have had a true sense of morality, and a just discernment of right and wrong; his perceptions and feelings of truth were scrupulously nice, and the smallest deviation from rectitude impressed his mind with the greatest antipathy. No considerations of private interest could warp his inclinations so as to seduce him from the paths of virtue; his principles were stedfast and determined, and truly habitual. He never employed his great wisdom to serve the purposes of cunning; but, with an uncommon exactness, made his understanding a servant to truth. Historians have given many instances of his wit and shrewdness, which were always employed in the service of virtue, philanthropy, and benevolence.

It cannot well be ascertained who were his parents, though some have affirmed that his father was a shepherd.[4] He himself was undoubtedly a slave; his first master was an Athenian, whose name was Caresias. At Athens he learned the Greek language in perfection, and acquired a taste for writing moral instructions, in the way of Fables, which was then the prevailing mode of teaching morals in Attica. His Fables are allegorical stories, delivered with an air of fiction, under various personifications, to convey truth to the mind in an agreeable manner. By telling a story of a Lion, Dog, or a Wolf, the Fabulist describes the manners and characters of men, and communicates instruction without seeming to assume the authority of a master or a pedagogue. Æsop’s situation as a slave might suggest this method to him; for what would have been scornfully rejected if delivered in an authoritative style by a slave, was received with avidity in the form of a fable.

Æsop had several masters; his second master was Xanthus, in whose service he discovered great wisdom and sagacity in answering questions, and reconciling differences. By the following stratagem he made his master’s wife return back, after she had run away and left him, and effectually reconciled them: our Fabulist, then a slave, went to the market, and bought a great quantity of the best provisions, which he publicly declared were intended for the marriage of his master with a new spouse. This report had its desired effect, and the matter was amicably composed. The story of his feast of Neat Tongrege, and his answer to a gardener, are scarcely worthy of relating. At a feast made on purpose to celebrate the return of his master’s wife, he is said to have served the guests with several courses of tongues, by which he intended to give a moral lesson to his master and mistress, who had by the too liberal use of their tongues occasioned the difference which was now agreed.

The third master of Æsop was Idmon, who was surnamed the wise. Idmon was an inhabitant of the island of Samos. During Æsop’s servitude with this master, he had a fellow-servant called Rhodopis, who some affirm was his wife.[5] This does not at all appear credible, for there is no mention made of this among the Greek writers. This Rhodopis became afterwards very famous for her riches, and was celebrated all over Greece. Idmon is said to have been so well pleased with Æsop, that after he had been some time in his service, he emancipated him, and made him free. With the enjoyment of liberty, he acquired new reputation, and became celebrated for his wisdom. He is by some compared to the Seven Sages of Greece, and accounted their equal in wisdom. He had the honour to be acquainted with Solon and Chilo, and was equally admitted with them in the Court of Periander, the King of the Corinthians, who was himself one of the Sages of Greece. He was much esteemed by Crœsus, King of Lydia, and received into his Court at Sardis. During his residence at Sardis, he gave proofs of his sagacity which astonished the courtiers of Crœsus. This ambitious Prince having one day shewn his wise men his vast riches and magnificence, and the glory and splendour of his court, asked them the question, whom they thought the happiest man? After several different answers given by all the wise men present, it came at last to Æsop to make his reply, who said: That Crœsus was as much happier than other men as the fulness of the sea was superior to the rivers. Whether this was spoken ironically or in earnest does not appear so evident; but according to the severe morality of Æsop, it would rather appear to be a sarcasm, though it was otherwise understood by the King, and received as the greatest compliment. It wrought so much upon his vanity, that he exclaimed: The Phrygian had hit the mark. One thing which renders it probable that Æsop flattered Crœsus on this occasion is his conversation with Solon, who at this time departed from the court of the King of Lydia. When they were upon the road, Æsop exclaims: O Solon! either we must not speak to Kings, or we must say what will please them. Solon replied: We should either not speak to Kings at all, or we should give them good advice, and speak truth. This seems to be one instance in which Æsop is charged with flattery and dissimulation. Some writers praise him for his complaisance to so great a Prince; but it is rather a proof of his policy than his ordinary strictness and integrity. There is another instance recorded by some writers of the life of Æsop, of his complaisance to Princes, even contrary to the liberties of the people. He is said to have written a Fable in favour of the tyrant Pisistratus, which Phædrus has translated, and proves that he was reconciled to tyranny. But this is no way evident. There are many Fables which are mingled with those of Æsop, which are not his, yet have been fathered upon him; and it is not consistent with the other parts of his character and writings to suppose that he would either flatter tyrants or defend them. The authorities from whence these supposed facts are taken are not to be depended upon.

In all other particulars he appears to have proceeded upon the principles of wisdom, as far as any of the Sages of Greece. When he was asked by Chilo, one of the wise men, What God was doing? He replied, with great adroitness, That he was humbling the proud and exalting the humble. He had just views of human nature, and assigned true reasons for all its Phænomena. In an account of the paintings in the time of the Antonines, Philostratus informs us, that there is one of Æsop which makes a principal figure. The painter represents him before his own house, with the geniuses approaching him with a sort of adulating pleasure as the inventor of Fables: they are painted as adorning him with wreaths and chaplets of flowers, and crowning him with olive branches. His countenance appears in a smiling attitude, while his eyes seem fixed towards the ground, as if composing a Fable, with the same gaiety and good humour with which he usually wrote. There is a group of men and beasts placed around him, and amongst the rest the Fox, which makes a capital figure, as he does in the Fables. This picture does not represent Æsop in a decrepit form, but sets him forth with a mixture of gravity and good humour. The image of his mind is well drawn by Plutarch in his Feast of the Sages at the court of Periander, who himself was one of the Seven. It was at this feast that Æsop repeats his Fable of The Wolf and the Shepherds, to shew that the company were guilty of the same fault. From Plutarch’s account it is manifest that Æsop’s conversation was pleasant and witty, but yet delicate. He was satirical without disobliging, and the poignancy of his wit was smoothed with good nature and good sense.

The writer of his life prefixed to Dodsley’s Fables compares him to Dean Swift, but with very little propriety; for he has a delicacy in all his wit which the Dean of St Patrick’s was a total stranger to; and, what is more strange, he had nearly as much Christianity.

It has been doubted if he was the inventor of Fables; but it is certain he was the first that brought that species of writing into reputation. Archilochus is said to have written Fables one hundred years before him;[6] but it would appear that those stories were not written for posterity like those of Æsop. The Fables of Æsop were written in prose, though the images that are in them afford good scope for a poet, of which Phædrus has given an elegant specimen. Æsop writes with great simplicity, elegance, and neatness; the schemes of his Fables are natural, the sentiments just, and the conclusions moral. Quintilian recommends his Fables as a first book for children;[7] and, when Plato had sent all the poets into exile, he allows Æsop a residence in his commonwealth.[8] The Athenians were good judges of literary merit, and erected a noble statue for Æsop, to perpetuate his memory, which was sculped by the famous Lysippus.

The great excellency of Æsop’s manner of writing is, that he blends the pleasing and the instructive so well as to instruct and please at once. Horace is much indebted to him for a plan of writing, and has formed a rule from this famous Fabulist:

Omne tulit punctum, qui miscuit utile dulci;

Lectorem delectando, pariterque monendo.

—De Arte Poet. ver. 343.

I wish I could conceal the exit of this great Fabulist and Moral Writer. He was accused by the Delphians of sacrilege, and convicted by an act of the greatest villany that ever was invented. They concealed among his baggage, at his departure, some golden vessels consecrated to Apollo, and then dispatched messengers to search his baggage. Upon this he was accused of theft and sacrilege, condemned, and precipitated over a rock. Thus ended the famous Æsop, whose Fables have immortalised his memory, and will hand down his name to the latest posterity.

AN ESSAY UPON FABLE.

Fable is the method of conveying truth under the form of an Allegory. The sense of a Fable is entirely different from the literal meaning of the words that are used to compose it; and yet the real intention thereof is visible and manifest, otherwise the Fable is not well composed. The sense of a Fable of the moral kind ought always to be obvious at first view, that the instruction intended to be given may have as early an effect as possible.

The chief thing to be considered in a Fable is the action, which conveys the moral or truth designed for instruction. There ought only to be one action in a Fable, which must appear through the whole; otherwise it will be liable to admit of different interpretations, and be the same as a riddle, and have no effect. Clearness, Unity, and Probability, are incidents essentially necessary in a moral Fable. If a Fable be not so plain as to point out the sense of the writer clearly, but admit of different interpretations, it does not answer the true design thereof. If the incidents tend to convey different ideas, then the reader will be at a loss to understand the chief intention of the author. All the various incidents ought manifestly to unite in one design, and point out one clear and perspicuous truth. Many of the modern Fables labour under this defect; the incidents do not manifestly tend to point out the moral. Fontaine’s Fable of the two pigeons, and Croxall’s story of the coach-wheel, are of this sort.

The incidents of a Fable ought also to have a real foundation in nature. This rule may be infringed by ascribing to creatures appetites and passions that are not consistent with their known characters. “A Fox should not be said to long for Grapes.”[9] The rule of Horace will hold universally—

Sed non ut placidis cœant immitia: non ut

Serpentes avibus geminentur, tigribus agni.

Delphinum Sylvis appingit Fluctibus aprum.

—Horace, I. 13.

To join the wild with creatures that are tame,

Serpents with birds, or tygers with the lamb,

Paint whales in woods, and wild boars in the sea,

Ah, what a motley piece the whole would be!

Creatures different in their nature must not be associated in a just Fable. The Lamb must not be made to travel with the Fox, nor the Wolf and the Sheep to feed or associate together; for all this is unnatural, and can never be rendered a probable object of belief. The incidents in a Fable ought also to be few, lest by crowding circumstances too close, the whole appear confused, and perplex the mind.

The next thing to be considered in Fable is the imagery or characters; these may either be men, beasts, or inanimate beings. All these have been introduced by the ancient Fabulists. In all personifications the rules of analogy are to be observed; in those things wherein man and other creatures have no similitude, no true image can be formed in what respects human society. The persons and characters assumed in Fables, ought therefore to have a likeness to the things to which they are compared. All nature may serve to furnish a Fabulist with machinery. Mountains, rivers, trees, animals, and even invisible powers may answer his purpose; but, in the use of all sorts of machinery, a proper regard must always be held to analogy. When language is attributed to animals, they must not be made to speak in a style which bears no similitude to some property in their nature; an owl must not be made to sing like a nightingale; nor should a raven be made the symbol of an orator. When beasts are made the representations of men, there ought always to be something in their nature that bears a similitude to their character. The same may be said of things inanimate; a strong man may be compared to a mountain, but it would be preposterous to make the same comparison of a dwarf. Vices and virtues ought in the same manner to be delineated in Fable; a proud man may be compared to a high hill, a humble person to a low valley. This is authorised by the writings of the Old Testament: The high mountains shall be brought low, and every valley shall be exalted.

When human actions are attributed to invisible powers, or especially to the Deity, they ought to be such as are worthy of those ideas which are generally received concerning him. In this, Homer is very faulty; for he exalts his men almost to Gods, and brings down his Gods to the level of beasts.

As for the style of Fable, simplicity is the greatest excellence; that familiar manner of speech in which we converse is best suited for the purposes of Fable. This manner of writing is more difficult to attain than is generally imagined; it requires a particular taste, and is harder to imitate than the sublime itself. The style of a Fable must always be adapted to the characters which are introduced: for it would be absurd to make the eagle speak in the same style with the bat; or the King of the forest express himself in the language of the mouse. But in all these particulars, nature will be the best guide; and where this is deficient, no art can supply the want of it.

FABLES, &c.

Fable I.
The Miller, his Son, and their Ass.

’Tis better to pursue the dictates of one’s own reason, than attempt to please all mankind.

A Miller and his Son were driving their Ass to market, in order to sell him: and that he might get thither fresh and in good condition, they drove him on gently before them. They had not proceeded far, when they met a company of travellers. Sure, say they, you are mighty careful of your Ass: methinks, one of you might as well get up and ride, as suffer him to walk on at his ease, while you trudge after on foot. In compliance with this advice, the Old Man set his Son upon the beast. And now, they had scarce advanced a quarter of a mile farther, before they met another company. You idle young rogue, said one of the party, why don’t you get down and let your poor Father ride? Upon this, the Old Man made his Son dismount, and got up himself. While they were marching in this manner, a third company began to insult the Father. You hard-hearted unnatural wretch, say they, how can you suffer that poor lad to wade through the dirt, while you, like an alderman, ride at your ease? The good-natured Miller stood corrected, and immediately took his Son up behind him. And now the next man they met exclaimed, with more vehemence and indignation than all the rest—Was there ever such a couple of lazy boobies! to overload in so unconscionable a manner a poor dumb creature, who is far less able to carry them than they are to carry him! The complying Old Man would have been half inclined to make the trial, had not experience by this time sufficiently convinced him, that there cannot be a more fruitless attempt than to endeavour to please all mankind.

Fable II.
The Fox and the Bramble.

We should bear with patience a small evil, when it is connected with a greater good.

A Fox closely pursued by a pack of dogs took shelter under the covert of a Bramble. He rejoiced in this asylum, and for a while was very happy: but soon found, that if he attempted to stir, he was wounded by thorns and prickles on every side. However, making a virtue of necessity, he forbore to complain; and comforted himself with reflecting, that no bliss is perfect; that good and evil are mixed, and flow from the same fountain. These briars indeed, said he, will tear my skin a little, yet they keep off the dogs. For the sake of the good, then, let me bear the evil with patience: each bitter has its sweet, and these brambles, though they wound my flesh, preserve my life from danger.

Fable III.
The Butterfly and the Rose.

We exclaim loudly against that inconstancy in another to which we give occasion by our own.

A fine powdered Butterfly fell in love with a beautiful Rose, who expanded her charms in a neighbouring parterre. Matters were soon adjusted between them, and they mutually vowed eternal fidelity. The Butterfly, perfectly satisfied with the success of his amour, took a tender leave of his mistress, and did not return again till noon. What! said the Rose, when she saw him approaching, is the ardent passion you vowed so soon extinguished? It is an age since you paid me a visit. But no wonder: for I observed you courting by turns every flower in the garden. You little coquet, replied the Butterfly, it well becomes you, truly, to reproach me with my gallantries; when in fact I only copy the example which you yourself have set me. For, not to mention the satisfaction with which you admitted the kisses of the fragrant Zephyr, did I not see you displaying your charms to the bee, the fly, the wasp, and, in short, encouraging and receiving the addresses of every buzzing insect that fluttered within your view? If you will be a coquet, you must expect to find me inconstant.

Fable IV.
The Clock and the Dial.

There is no absolute independency in the world; every one depends in his station upon some above him, and that if this order was taken away, there would be nothing except error and confusion in the universe.

A Clock, which served for many years to repeat the hours and point out time, happened to fall into conversation with a Dial, which also served, when the sun shone, to tell what was the time of day. It happened to be in a cloudy forenoon, when the sun did not shine. Says the Clock to the Dial, What a mean slavery do you undergo! you cannot tell the hour without the sun pleases to inform you; and now the half of the day is past, and you know not what o’clock it is. I can tell the hour at any time, and would not be in such a dependent state as you are in for the world. Night and day are both alike to me. It is just now twelve o’clock. Upon this the sun shone forth from under the cloud, and showed the exact time of the day. It was half an hour past twelve. The Dial then replied to the Clock, You may now perceive that boasting is not good; for you see you are wrong. It is better to be under direction and follow truth, than to be eye to one’s self and go wrong; your freedom is only a liberty to err; and what you call slavery in my case, is the only method of being freely in the right. You see that we should all of us keep our stations, and depend upon one another. I depend upon the sun, and you depend upon me; for if I did not serve to regulate your motions, you see you would for ever go wrong.

Fable V.
The Tortoise and the Two Crows.

Curiosity often excites those people to hazardous undertakings, whom vanity and indiscretion render totally unfit for them.

Vanity and idle curiosity are qualities which generally prove destructive to those who suffer themselves to be governed by them.

A Tortoise, weary of passing her days in the same obscure corner, conceived a wonderful inclination to visit foreign countries. Two Crows, whom the simple Tortoise acquainted with her intention, undertook to oblige her upon the occasion. Accordingly, they told her, that if she would fasten her mouth to the middle of a pole, they would take the two ends, and transport her whithersoever she chose to be conveyed. The Tortoise approved of the expedient; and everything being prepared, the Crows began their flight with her. They had not travelled long in the air, when they were met by a Magpie, who inquiring what they were bearing along, they replied the queen of the Tortoises. The Tortoise, vain of the new and unmerited appellation, was going to confirm the title, when, opening her mouth for that purpose, she let go her hold, and was dashed to pieces by her fall.

Fable VI.
The Country Maid and the Milk-Pail.

When we dwell much on distant and chimerical advantages, we neglect our present business, and are exposed to real misfortunes.

When men suffer their imagination to amuse them with the prospect of distant and uncertain improvements of their condition, they frequently sustain real losses by their inattention to those affairs in which they are immediately concerned.

A Country Maid was walking very deliberately with a pail of milk upon her head, when she fell into the following train of reflections:—The money for which I shall sell this milk, will enable me to increase my stock of eggs to three hundred. These eggs, allowing for what may prove addle, and what may be destroyed by vermin, will produce at least two hundred and fifty chickens. The chickens will be fit to carry to market about Christmas, when poultry always bear a good price, so that by May-day I cannot fail of having money enough to purchase a gown. Green!—let me consider—yes, green becomes my complexion best, and green it shall be. In this dress I will go to the fair, where all the young fellows will strive to have me for a partner; but I shall perhaps refuse every one of them, and with an air of disdain toss from them. Transported with this triumphant thought, she could not forbear acting with her head what thus passed in her imagination, when down came the pail of milk, and with it all her imaginary happiness.

Fable VII.
The Spider and the Silkworm.

He that is employed in works of use generally advantages himself or others; while he who toils alone for fame must often expect to lose his labour.

How vainly we promise ourselves that our flimsy productions will be rewarded with immortal honour! A Spider, busied in spreading his web from one side of a room to the other, was asked by an industrious Silkworm, to what end he spent so much time and labour, in making such a number of lines and circles? The Spider angrily replied, Do not disturb me, thou ignorant thing: I transmit my ingenuity to posterity, and fame is the object of my wishes. Just as he had spoken, a chambermaid, coming into the room to feed her Silkworms, saw the Spider at his work, and with one stroke of her broom, swept him away, and destroyed at once his labours and his hope of fame.

Fable VIII.
The Bee and the Fly.

The greatest genius with a vindictive temper is far surpast in point of happiness by men of talents less considerable.

A Bee, observing a Fly frisking about her hive, asked him, in a very passionate tone, what he did there? Is it for such scoundrels as you, said she, to intrude into the company of the queens of the air? You have great reason, truly, replied the Fly, to be out of humour. I am sure they must be mad who would have any concern with so quarrelsome a nation. And why so? thou saucy malapert, returned the enraged Bee; we have the best laws, and are governed by the best policy in the world. We feed upon the most fragrant flowers, and all our business is to make honey: honey which equals nectar, thou tasteless wretch, who livest upon nothing but putrefaction and excrement. We live as we can, rejoined the Fly. Poverty, I hope, is no crime; but passion is one, I am sure. The honey you make is sweet, I grant you; but your heart is all bitterness: for to be revenged on an enemy, you will destroy your own life; and are so inconsiderate in your rage, as to do more mischief to yourselves than to your adversary. Take my word for it, one had better have less considerable talents, and use them with more discretion.

Fable IX.
The Huron and the Frenchman.

Custom has a mighty effect upon mankind, and more differences arise in character from custom than from natural causes. Perhaps all men are in the state they should be in; they should therefore live contented.

An airy Frenchman happened to meet a Huron upon the Mississippi, as he went with his bow and shafts to seek provision for his family. Says Monsieur to the savage, You have a very toilsome life of it, who, when other people sit by the fireside, enjoying the benefit of good food and good company, are obliged to traverse the woods in the midst of snow and storms to preserve a wretched existence. How come you by your food? replies the Huron. Does it rain from the clouds to you? No, says the Frenchman; we work in summer, and make provision for winter, and, during the cold months, sit by the fire and enjoy ourselves. For the same reason, says the Huron, do we lay up provisions in winter, that we may rest in summer when the days are hot. Your enjoyments are confined within the walls of a house, and by the side of a fire, but ours are more extensive; we assemble upon the mountains and in the woods in summer for pleasure, and our delights are to observe the works of nature; the sun serves us instead of fire to warm us, and we are never at a loss for houses while the woods remain. This is the season when we lay up our store, and it serves us in summer till winter return. We are accustomed to endure the cold, and our exercise keeps us from feeling it to excess. At night the skins of wild beasts keep us from the cold till the morning dawn, and then we pursue the same employments. Were we not to live in this manner, the wild beasts would so increase, that they would become our masters; but our necessity of having food and clothing prevents them from increasing to very great numbers. What you account pleasure, would be none to us; and your manner of life appears as ridiculous to the Hurons, as ours appears to you. You reckon us idolaters, because we pay adoration to the rising sun; but you misunderstand us; we consider that light to be a symbol of the great Author of Nature, and only worship him through this luminary. We do not understand your manner of worship, which to us appears abundantly absurd; for the Deity is no more like images of gold and silver, than he is like the sun. The sun is a more glorious effect of his power and goodness; for he serves many excellent purposes, and we could not live without him; but your symbols appear to have no use. The Frenchman could make no reply, and the Huron proceeded on his hunting.

Fable X.
Genius, Virtue, and Reputation.

There are few things so irreparably lost as Reputation.

Genius, Virtue, and Reputation, three intimate friends, agreed to travel over the island of Great Britain, to see whatever might be worthy of observation. But as some misfortune, said they, may happen to separate us, let us consider before we set out by what means we may find each other again. Should it be my ill fate, said Genius, to be severed from you, my associates—which Heaven forbid!—you may find me kneeling in devotion before the tomb of Shakespear, or rapt in some grove where Milton talked with angels, or musing in the grotto where Pope caught inspiration. Virtue, with a sigh, acknowledged that her friends were not very numerous: but were I to lose you, she cried, with whom I am at present so happily united, I should choose to take sanctuary in the temples of religion, in the places of royalty, or in the stately domes of ministers of state; but as it may be my ill-fortune to be there denied admittance, inquire for some cottage where contentment has a bower, and there you will certainly find me. Ah! my dear companions, said Reputation, very earnestly, you, I perceive, when missing, may possibly be recovered; but take care, I entreat you, always to keep sight of me, for if I am once lost, I am never to be retrieved.

Fable XI.
Industry and Sloth.

Our term of life does not allow time for long protracted deliberations.

How many live in the world as useless as if they had never been born! They pass through life like a bird through the air, and leave no track behind them; waste the prime of their days in deliberating what they shall do, and bring them to a period without coming to any determination.

An indolent young man, being asked why he lay in bed so long, jocosely and carelessly answered, Every morning of my life I am hearing causes. I have two fine girls, their names are Industry and Sloth, close at my bed-side as soon as ever I awake, pressing their different suits. One intreats me to get up, the other persuades me to lie still; and then they alternately give me various reasons why I should rise, and why I should not. This detains me so long, as it is the duty of an impartial judge to hear all that can be said on either side, that before the pleadings are over, it is time to go to dinner.

Fable XII.
The Hermit and the Bear.

The random zeal of inconsiderate friends is often as hurtful as the wrath of enemies.

An imprudent friend often does as much mischief by his too great zeal as the worst enemy could effect by his malice.

A certain Hermit having done a good office to a Bear, the grateful creature was so sensible of his obligation, that he begged to be admitted as the guardian and companion of his solitude. The Hermit willingly accepted his offer, and conducted him to his cell, where they passed their time together in an amicable manner. One very hot day, the Hermit having laid him down to sleep, the officious Bear employed himself in driving away the flies from his patron’s face. But in spite of all his care, one of the flies perpetually returned to the attack, and at last settled upon the Hermit’s nose. Now I shall have you most certainly, said the Bear; and with the best intentions imaginable, gave him a violent blow on the face, which very effectually indeed demolished the Fly, but at the same time most terribly bruised the face of his benefactor.

Fable XIII.
The Passenger and the Pilot.

We are nowhere out of the reach of Providence, either to punish or to protect us.

It had blown a violent storm at sea, and the whole crew of a large vessel were in imminent danger of shipwreck. After the rolling of the waves were somewhat abated, a certain Passenger, who had never been at sea before, observing the Pilot to have appeared wholly unconcerned, even in their greatest danger, had the curiosity to ask him what death his father died. What death? said the Pilot; why he perished at Sea, as my grandfather did before him. And are you not afraid of trusting yourself to an element that has thus proved fatal to your family? Afraid!—by no means. Why we must all die: is not your father dead? Yes, but he died in his bed. And why then are you not afraid of trusting yourself to your bed? Because I am there perfectly secure. It may be so, replied the Pilot; but if the hand of Providence is equally extended over all places, there is no more reason for me to be afraid of going to sea than for you to be afraid of going to bed.

Fable XIV.
The Partial Judge.

The injuries we do, and those we suffer, are seldom weighed in the same scales.

A Farmer came to a neighbouring Lawyer expressing great concern for an accident which he said had just happened. One of your oxen, continued he, has been gored by an unlucky bull of mine, and I shall be glad to know how I am to make you a reparation. Thou art a very honest fellow, replied the Lawyer, and wilt not think it unreasonable that I expect one of thy oxen in return. It is no more than justice, quoth the Farmer, to be sure; but what did I say?—I mistake: it is your bull that has killed one of my oxen. Indeed! says the Lawyer; that alters the case: I must inquire into the affair; and if—— And if! said the Farmer; the business I find would have been concluded without an if, had you been as ready to do justice to others as to exact it from them.

Fable XV.
The Lion and the Gnat.

Little minds are so much elevated by any advantage gained over their superiors, that they are often thrown off their guard against a sudden change of fortune.

Avaunt! thou paltry contemptible insect! said a proud Lion one day to a Gnat that was frisking about in the air near his den. The Gnat, enraged at this unprovoked insult, vowed revenge, and immediately darted into the Lion’s ear. After having sufficiently teased him in that quarter, she quitted her station and retired under his belly, and from thence made her last and most formidable attack in his nostrils, where stinging him almost to madness, the Lion at length fell down, utterly spent with rage, vexation, and pain. The Gnat having thus abundantly gratified her resentment, flew off in great exultation; but in the heedless transports of her success, not sufficiently attending to her own security, she found herself unexpectedly entangled in the web of a spider; who, rushing out instantly upon her, put an end to her triumph and her life.

This fable instructs us, never to suffer success so far to transport us as to throw us off our guard against a reverse of fortune.

Fable XVI.
The Dog and the Crocodile.

It is ever dangerous to be long conversant with persons of a bad character.

We can never be too carefully guarded against a connection with persons of an ill character.

As a dog was coursing on the banks of the Nile, he grew thirsty; but fearing to be seized by the monsters of that river, he would not stop to satiate his draught, but lapped as he ran. A Crocodile, raising his head above the surface of the water, asked him, why he was in such a hurry. He had often, he said, wished for his acquaintance, and should be glad to embrace the present opportunity. You do me great honour, returned the Dog, but it is to avoid such companions as you that I am in so much haste.

Fable XVII.
The Wolf in Disguise.

There would be little chance of detecting hypocrisy, were it not always addicted to over-act its part.

Designing hypocrites frequently lay themselves open to discovery by over-acting their parts.

A Wolf, who by frequent visits to a flock of sheep in his neighbourhood, began to be extremely well known to them, thought it expedient, for the more successfully carrying on his depredations, to appear in a new character. To this end he disguised himself in a shepherd’s habit; and resting his fore-feet upon a stick, which served him by way of crook, he softly made his approaches towards the fold. It happened that the shepherd and his dog were both of them extended on the grass fast asleep; so that he would certainly have succeeded in his project, if he had not imprudently attempted to imitate the shepherd’s voice. The horrid noise awakened them both: when the Wolf, encumbered with his disguise, and finding it impossible either to resist or to flee, yielded up his life an easy prey to the shepherd’s dog.

Fable XVIII.
The Ass and his Master.

Avarice often misses its point, through the means it uses to secure it.

A diligent Ass, daily loaded beyond his strength by a severe Master, whom he had long served, and who kept him at very short commons, happened one day in his old age to be oppressed with a more than ordinary burthen of earthenware. His strength being much impaired, and the road deep and uneven, he unfortunately made a trip, and, unable to recover himself, fell down and broke all the vessels to pieces. His Master, transported with rage, began to beat him most unmercifully. Against whom the poor Ass, lifting up his head as he lay on the ground, thus strongly remonstrated: Unfeeling wretch! to thy own avaricious cruelty, in first pinching me of food, and then loading me beyond my strength, thou owest the misfortune which thou so unjustly imputest to me.

Fable XIX.
The Eagle and the Crow.

A false estimate of our own abilities ever exposes us to ridicule, and sometimes to danger.

To mistake our own talents, or over-rate our abilities, is always ridiculous, and sometimes dangerous.

An Eagle, from the top of a high mountain, making a stoop at a lamb, pounced upon it, and bore it away to her young. A Crow, who had built her nest in a cedar near the foot of the rock, observing what passed, was ambitious of performing the same exploit; and darting from her nest, fixed her talons in the fleece of another lamb. But neither able to move her prey, nor to disentangle her feet, she was taken by the shepherd, and carried away for his children to play with; who eagerly enquiring what bird it was:—An hour ago, said he, she fancied herself an eagle, however, I suppose she is by this time convinced that she is but a crow.

Fable XX.
The Lion, the Tyger, and the Fox.

The intemperate rage of clients gives the lawyer an opportunity of seizing the property in dispute.

A Lion and a Tyger jointly seized on a young fawn, which they immediately killed. This they had no sooner performed than they fell a fighting, in order to decide whose property it should be. The battle was so bloody and so obstinate that they were both compelled, through weariness and loss of blood, to desist; and lay down by mutual consent, totally disabled. At this instant, a Fox unluckily came by; who, perceiving their situation, made bold to seize the contested prey, and bore it off unmolested. As soon as the Lion could recover his breath,—How foolish, said he, has been our conduct! Instead of being contented, as we ought, with our respective shares, our senseless rage has rendered us unable to prevent this rascally Fox from defrauding us of the whole.

Fable XXI.
The Lion and the Ass.

A total neglect is the best return the generous can make to the scurrility of the base.

A conceited Ass had once the impertinence to bray forth some contemptuous speeches against the Lion. The suddenness of the insult at first raised some emotions of wrath in his breast; but turning his head, and perceiving from whence it came, they immediately subsided, and he very sedately walked on, without deigning to honour the contemptible creature even so much as with an angry word.

Fable XXII.
The Trumpeter.

The fomenter of mischief is at least as culpable as he who puts it in execution.

A Trumpeter in a certain army happened to be taken prisoner. He was ordered immediately to execution; but pleaded, in excuse for himself, that it was unjust a person should suffer death, who, far from an intention of mischief, did not even wear an offensive weapon. So much the rather, replied one of the enemy, shalt thou die; since without any design of fighting thyself, thou excitest others to the bloody business: for he that is the abetter of a bad action, is at least equally guilty with him that commits it.

Fable XXIII.
The Bear and the Bees.

It were more prudent to acquiesce under an injury from a single person, than by an act of vengeance to bring upon us the resentment of a whole community.

A Bear happened to be stung by a Bee, and the pain was so acute, that in the madness of revenge he ran into the garden and overturned the hive. This outrage provoked their anger to a high degree, and brought the fury of the whole swarm upon him. They attacked him with such violence, that his life was in danger, and it was with the utmost difficulty that he made his escape, wounded from head to tail. In this desperate condition, lamenting his misfortunes, and licking his sores, he could not forbear reflecting how much more advisable it had been to have patiently acquiesced under one injury, than thus by an unprofitable resentment to have provoked a thousand.

Fable XXIV.
The Oak and the Willow.

The courage of meeting death in an honourable cause is more commendable, than any address or artifice we can make use of to evade it.

A conceited Willow had once the vanity to challenge his mighty neighbour the Oak to a trial of strength. It was to be determined by the next storm; and Æolus was addressed by both parties to exert his most powerful efforts. This was no sooner asked than granted; and a violent hurricane arose, when the pliant Willow, bending from the blast, or shrinking under her, evaded all its force, while the generous Oak, disdaining to give way, opposed its fury, and was torn up by the roots. Immediately the Willow began to exult, and to claim the victory, when thus the fallen Oak interrupted his exultation: Callest thou this a trial of strength? Poor wretch! not to thy strength, but weakness; not to thy boldly facing danger, but meanly skulking from it, thou owest thy present safety. I am an Oak, though fallen; thou still a Willow, though unhurt: but who, except so mean a wretch as thyself, would prefer an ignominious life, preserved by craft or cowardice, to the glory of meeting death in an honourable cause?

Fable XXV.
The Bear and the Two Friends.

Cowards are incapable of true Friendship.

Two Friends, setting out together upon a journey which led through a dangerous forest, mutually promised to assist each other if they should happen to be assaulted. They had not proceeded far before they perceived a Bear making towards them with great rage. There were no hopes in flight; but one of them, being very active, sprung up into a tree; upon which the other, throwing himself flat on the ground, held his breath, and pretended to be dead, remembering to have heard it asserted that this creature will not prey upon a dead carcase. The Bear came up, and after smelling to him for some time, left him, and went on. When he was fairly out of sight and hearing, the hero from the tree calls out—Well, my friend, what said the Bear? He seemed to whisper you very closely. He did so, replied the other, and gave me this good piece of advice: Never to associate with a wretch who in the hour of danger will desert his friend.

Fable XXVI.
The Wasps and the Bees.

It is a folly to arrogate works to ourselves of which we are by no means capable.

Pretenders of every kind are best detected by appealing to their works.