Fables of La Fontaine Part 36

A cobbler sang from morn till night; 'Twas sweet and marvellous to hear, His trills and quavers told the ear Of more contentment and delight, Enjoy'd by that laborious wight Than e'er enjoy'd the sages seven, Or any mortals short of heaven.

His neighbour, on the other hand, With gold in plenty at command, But little sang, and slumber'd less-- A financier of great success.

If e'er he dozed, at break of day, The cobbler's song drove sleep away; And much he wish'd that Heaven had made Sleep a commodity of trade, In market sold, like food and drink, So much an hour, so much a wink.

At last, our songster did he call To meet him in his princely hall.

Said he, 'Now, honest Gregory, What may your yearly earnings be?'

'My yearly earnings! faith, good sir, I never go, at once, so far,'

The cheerful cobbler said, And queerly scratch'd his head,-- 'I never reckon in that way, But cobble on from day to day, Content with daily bread.'

'Indeed! Well, Gregory, pray, What may your earnings be per day?'

'Why, sometimes more and sometimes less.

The worst of all, I must confess, (And but for which our gains would be A pretty sight, indeed, to see,) Is that the days are made so many In which we cannot earn a penny-- The sorest ill the poor man feels: They tread upon each other's heels, Those idle days of holy saints!

And though the year is s.h.i.+ngled o'er, The parson keeps a-finding more!'[2]

With smiles provoked by these complaints, Replied the lordly financier, 'I'll give you better cause to sing.

These hundred pounds I hand you here Will make you happy as a king.

Go, spend them with a frugal heed; They'll long supply your every need.'

The cobbler thought the silver more Than he had ever dream'd before, The mines for ages could produce, Or world, with all its people, use.

He took it home, and there did hide-- And with it laid his joy aside.

No more of song, no more of sleep, But cares, suspicions in their stead, And false alarms, by fancy fed.

His eyes and ears their vigils keep, And not a cat can tread the floor But seems a thief slipp'd through the door.

At last, poor man!

Up to the financier he ran,-- Then in his morning nap profound: 'O, give me back my songs,' cried he, 'And sleep, that used so sweet to be, And take the money, every pound!'

[2] _The parson keeps a-finding more!_--Under the old regime of France the parish priest of each church had usually every Sunday, at sermon time, to announce more than one religious fast or feast for the coming week, which the poor at least were expected to observe.

III.--THE LION, THE WOLF, AND THE FOX.[3]

A lion, old, and impotent with gout, Would have some cure for age found out.

Impossibilities, on all occasions, With kings, are rank abominations.

This king, from every species,-- For each abounds in every sort,-- Call'd to his aid the leeches.

They came in throngs to court, From doctors of the highest fee To nostrum-quacks without degree,-- Advised, prescribed, talk'd learnedly; But with the rest Came not Sir Cunning Fox, M.D.

Sir Wolf the royal couch attended, And his suspicions there express'd.

Forthwith his majesty, offended, Resolved Sir Cunning Fox should come, And sent to smoke him from his home.

He came, was duly usher'd in, And, knowing where Sir Wolf had been, Said, 'Sire, your royal ear Has been abused, I fear, By rumours false and insincere; To wit, that I've been self-exempt From coming here, through sheer contempt.

But, sire, I've been on pilgrimage, By vow expressly made, Your royal health to aid, And, on my way, met doctors sage, In skill the wonder of the age, Whom carefully I did consult About that great debility Term'd in the books senility, Of which you fear, with reason, the result.

You lack, they say, the vital heat, By age extreme become effete.

Drawn from a living wolf, the hide Should warm and smoking be applied.

The secret's good, beyond a doubt, For nature's weak, and wearing out.

Sir Wolf, here, won't refuse to give His hide to cure you, as I live.'

The king was pleased with this advice.

Flay'd, jointed, served up in a trice, Sir Wolf first wrapp'd the monarch up, Then furnish'd him whereon to sup.

Beware, ye courtiers, lest ye gain, By slander's arts, less power than pain; For in the world where ye are living, A pardon no one thinks of giving.

[3] Aesop; also Bidpaii, and Lokman.

IV.--THE POWER OF FABLES.

To M. De Barillon.[4]

Can diplomatic dignity To simple fables condescend?

Can I your famed benignity Invoke, my muse an ear to lend?

If once she dares a high intent, Will you esteem her impudent?

Your cares are weightier, indeed, Than listening to the sage debates Of rabbit or of weasel states: So, as it pleases, burn or read; But save us from the woful harms Of Europe roused in hostile arms.

That from a thousand other places Our enemies should show their faces, May well be granted with a smile, But not that England's Isle Our friendly kings should set Their fatal blades to whet.

Comes not the time for Louis to repose?

What Hercules, against these hydra foes, Would not grow weary? Must new heads oppose His ever-waxing energy of blows?

Now, if your gentle, soul-persuasive powers, As sweet as mighty in this world of ours, Can soften hearts, and lull this war to sleep,[5]

I'll pile your altars with a hundred sheep; And this is not a small affair For a Parna.s.sian mountaineer.

Meantime, (if you have time to spare,) Accept a little incense-cheer.

A homely, but an ardent prayer, And tale in verse, I give you here.

I'll only say, the theme is fit for you.

With praise, which envy must confess To worth like yours is justly due, No man on earth needs propping less.

In Athens, once, that city fickle, An orator,[6] awake to feel His country in a dangerous pickle, Would sway the proud republic's heart, Discoursing of the common weal, As taught by his tyrannic art.

The people listen'd--not a word.

Meanwhile the orator recurr'd To bolder tropes--enough to rouse The dullest blocks that e'er did drowse; He clothed in life the very dead, And thunder'd all that could be said.

The wind received his breath, As to the ear of death.

That beast of many heads and light,[7]

The crowd, accustom'd to the sound Was all intent upon a sight-- A brace of lads in mimic fight.

A new resource the speaker found.

'Ceres,' in lower tone said he, 'Went forth her harvest fields to see: An eel, as such a fish might he, And swallow, were her company.

A river check'd the travellers three.

Two cross'd it soon without ado; The smooth eel swam, the swallow flew.--'

Outcried the crowd With voices loud-- 'And Ceres--what did she?'

'Why, what she pleased; but first Yourselves she justly cursed-- A people puzzling aye your brains With children's tales and children's play, While Greece puts on her steel array, To save her limbs from, tyrant chains!

Why ask you not what Philip[8] does?'

At this reproach the idle buzz Fell to the silence of the grave, Or moonstruck sea without a wave, And every eye and ear awoke To drink the words the patriot spoke.

This feather stick in Fable's cap.

We're all Athenians, mayhap; And I, for one, confess the sin; For, while I write this moral here, If one should tell that tale so queer Ycleped, I think, "The a.s.s's Skin,"[9]

I should not mind my work a pin.

The world is old, they say; I don't deny it;-- But, infant still In taste and will, Whoe'er would teach, must gratify it.[10]

[4] _M. De Barillon._--Amba.s.sador to the Court of St.

James.--Translator. M. De Barillon was a great friend of La Fontaine, and also of other literary lights of the time.

[5] _And lull this war to sleep._--The parliament of England was determined that, in case Louis XIV. did not make peace with the allies, Charles II. should join them to make war on France.--Translator.

[6] _An orator._--Demades.--Translator.

[7] _That beast of many heads._--Horace, speaking of the Roman people, said, "Bellua multorum est capitum."--_Epist. I., Book I._, 76.--Translator.

[8] _Philip._--Philip of Macedon, then at war with the Greeks.

[9] "The a.s.s's Skin,"--an old French nursery tale so called.

[10] La Fontaine's views on "the power of fables" are further given in Fable I., Book II.; Fable I., Book III.; Fable I., Book V.; Fable I., Book VI; the Introduction to Book VII., and Fable I., Book IX.