Chapter V: Part II: FABLES, with Reflections (3)

A Satyr, as he was ranging the Forest in an exceeding cold, snowy season, met with a Traveller half-starved with the extremity of the weather. He took compassion on him, and kindly invited him home, to a warm comfortable cave he had in the hollow of a rock. As soon as they had entered and sat down, notwithstanding there was a good fire in the place, the chilly Traveller could not forbear blowing his finger ends. Upon the Satyr’s asking him why he did so, he answered: That he did it to warm his hands. The honest silvan having seen little of the world, admired a man who was master of so valuable a quality as that of blowing heat, and therefore was resolved to entertain him in the best manner he could. He spread the table before him with dried fruits of several sorts; and produced a remnant of old cordial wine, which, as the rigour of the season made very proper, he mulled with some warm spices, infused over the fire, and presented to his shivering guest. But this the Traveller thought fit to blow likewise; and upon the Satyr’s demanding a reason why he blowed again, he replied: To cool his dish. This second answer provoked the Satyr’s indignation, as much as the first had kindled his surprise. So, taking the man by the shoulder, he thrust him out of doors, saying: He would have nothing to do with a wretch who had so vile a quality as to blow hot and cold with the same mouth.

MORALS.

_There is no conversing with any man that carries ~two faces
under one hood~._

_With such an inmate who would be perplext,_
_One hour all coldness, and all heat the next!_
_Who would his fev’rish shiv’ring fits endure?_
_That ague of the heart, no drug can cure._

REFLECTION.

Though the poor Traveller in the Fable was not guilty of any real crime in what he did, yet one cannot help approving the honest simplicity of the Satyr, who could not be reconciled to such double dealing. In the moral sense of the Fable, nothing can be more offensive to one of a sincere heart, than he that blows with a different breath from the same mouth; who flatters a man to his face, and reviles him behind his back. Some again, just like this man, to serve a present view, will blow nothing but what is warm, benevolent, and cherishing; and when they have raised the expectations of a dependant to a degree which they think may prove troublesome, can, with putting on a cold air, easily chill and blast all his blooming hopes. But such a temper, whether it proceeds from a designed or natural levity, is detestable, and has been the cause of much trouble and mortification to many a brave deserving man. Unless the tenor of a man’s life be always true and consistent with itself, the less one has to do with him the better.

_FABLE XL._

The Eagle, the Cat, and the Sow.

An Eagle had built her nest upon the top branches of an old oak. A wild Cat inhabited a hole in the middle; and in the hollow part at the bottom was a Sow, with a whole litter of pigs. A happy neighbourhood; and might long have continued so, had it not been for the wicked insinuations of the designing Cat. For, first of all, up she crept to the Eagle; and, good neighbour, says she, we shall be all undone: That filthy Sow yonder does nothing but lie routing at the foot of the tree, and, as I suspect, intends to grub it up, that she may the more easily come at our young ones. For my part I will take care of my own concerns; you may do as you please, but I will watch her motions, though I stay at home this month for it. When she had said this, which could not fail of putting the Eagle into a great fright, down she went, and made a visit to the Sow at the bottom; and, putting on a sorrowful face, I hope, says she, you do not intend to go abroad to-day? Why not? says the Sow. Nay, replies the other, you may do as you please; but I overheard the Eagle tell her young ones, that she would treat them with a pig the first time she saw you go out; and I am not sure but she may take up with a kitten in the meantime; so, good-morrow to you; you will excuse me, I must go and take care of the little folks at home. Away she went accordingly; and, by contriving to steal out softly at nights for her prey, and to stand watching and peeping all day at her hole, as under great concern, she made such an impression upon the Eagle and the Sow, that neither of them dared to venture abroad for fear of the other. The consequence of which was, that themselves, and their young ones, in a little time were all starved, and made prize of by the treacherous Cat and her kittens.

MORALS.

_There can be no peace in any state or family where whisperers
and tale-bearers are encouraged._

_Ill fares that neighbourhood, where sland’rers meet_
_With easy faith to back their base deceit:_
_From house to house the plague of discord spreads,_
_And brings down ruin on their hapless heads._

REFLECTION.

Busy-bodies and intermeddlers are a dangerous sort of people to have to do withal; for there is no mischief that may not be wrought by the craft and management of a double tongue, with a foolish credulity to work upon. There is hardly a greater pest to government, to conversation, to the peace of societies, relations, and families, than officious tale-bearers and busy intermeddlers. These pick-thanks are enough to set mankind together by the ears; they live upon calumny and slander, and cover themselves, too, under the seal of secrecy and friendship; these are the people who _set their neighbours’ houses on fire to roast their own eggs_. The sin of traducing is diabolical, according to the very letter; and if the office be artificially managed, it is enough to put the whole world into a flame, and nobody the wiser which way it came. The mischief may be promoted, by misrepresenting, misunderstanding, or misinterpreting our neighbour’s thoughts, words, and deeds; and no wound so mortal, as that where the poison works under a pretence of kindness: nay, there are ways of commendation, and insinuations of affection and esteem, that kill a man as sure as a bullet. This practice is the bane of trust and confidence; and it is as frequent in the intrigues of courts and states, as in the most ordinary accidents of life. It is enough to break the neck of all honest purposes, to stifle all generous and public-spirited motions, and to suppress all honourable inclinations in the very conception. But, next to the practice of these lewd offices, deliver all honest men, say I, from lying at the mercy of those that encourage and entertain them.

_FABLE XLI._

The Cock and the Fox.

A Cock being perched among the branches of a lofty Tree, crowed aloud, so that the shrillness of his voice echoed through the wood and invited a Fox to the place, who was prowling in that neighbourhood, in quest of his prey. But _Reynard_, finding the Cock was inaccessible, by reason of the height of his situation, had recourse to stratagem, in order to decoy him down; so, approaching the tree, Cousin, says he, I am heartily glad to see you; but at the same time I cannot forbear expressing my uneasiness at the inconvenience of the place, which will not let me pay my respects to you in a handsomer manner; though I suppose you will come down presently, and so that difficulty is easily removed. Indeed, Cousin, says the Cock, to tell you the truth I don’t think it safe to venture myself upon the ground, for though I am convinced how much you are my friend, yet I may have the misfortune to fall into the clutches of some other beast, and what will become of me then? O dear, says _Reynard_, is it possible that you can be so ignorant, as not to know of the peace that has been lately proclaimed between all kinds of birds and beasts; and that we are, for the future, to forbear hostilities on all sides, and to live in the utmost love and harmony, and that under penalty of suffering the severest punishment that can be inflicted? All this while the Cock seemed to give little attention to what was said, but stretched out his neck, as if he saw something at a distance: Cousin, says the Fox, what’s that you look at so earnestly? Why, says the Cock, I think I see a pack of hounds yonder a little way off. Oh then, says the Fox, your humble servant, I must be gone. Nay, pray, Cousin, don’t go, says the Cock, I’m just coming down; sure you are not afraid of dogs in these peaceable times. No, no, says he; but ten to one whether they have heard of the proclamation yet.

MORALS.

_Perfidious people are naturally to be suspected in reports
that favour their own interest._

_Take courage, hence, ye wise, nor dread deceit;_
_Good sense and craft, how seldom do they meet!_
_Tho’ keen, yet feeble, are the sharper’s tools,_
_And cunning’s the peculiar gift of fools._

REFLECTION.

It is a very agreeable thing to see craft repelled by cunning; more especially to behold the snares of the wicked broken and defeated by the discreet management of the innocent. The moral of this Fable principally puts us in mind, not to be too credulous towards the insinuations of those who are already distinguished by their want of faith and honesty. When, therefore, any such would draw us into a compliance with their destructive measures, by a pretended civility and extraordinary concern for our interest, we should consider such proposals in their true light, as a bait artfully placed to conceal the fatal hook, which is intended to draw us into captivity and thraldom. An honest man, with a little plain sense, may do a thousand advantageous things for the public good; and, without being master of much address or rhetoric, as easily convince people that his designs are intended for their welfare. But a wicked designing politician, though he has a tongue as eloquent as ever spoke, may sometimes be disappointed in his projects and be foiled in his schemes; especially when their destructive texture is so coarsely spun, and the threads of mischief are so large in them, as to be seen even by those whose senses are scarce perfect enough to see and understand them.

_FABLE XLII._

Age to be Honoured.

A pert and inconsiderate young Man happened to meet an old Man, whose age and infirmity had brought his body almost to the shape of a bent bow. Pray, father, says he, will you sell your bow? Save your money, you fool, says the other; for when you come to my years, you shall have such a bow for nothing.

MORALS.

_There cannot be a greater folly and impertinence, than that of
young men scoffing at the infirmities of age._

_Though vig’rous health thy tide of life sustains,_
_And youthful manhood revels in thy veins:_
_With rev’rend awe regard the bending sage,_
_Nor thoughtless mock th’ infirmities of age._

REFLECTION.

We are all born to die, and it is every jot as certain that we shall go out of the world, as that we are already come into it: we are helpless in infancy; ungovernable in youth; our strength and vigour scarce outlast a morning sun; our infirmities hasten upon us as our years advance, and we grow helpless in our old age as in our infancy. What, then, have the best of us to boast of? Even time and human frailty alone will bring us to our end without the help of any accidents or distempers; so that our decays are as much the works of nature, as the first principles of our being; and the young man’s conceit of the crooked bow is no better than an irreverent way of making sport with the course of Providence; besides shewing the folly of scoffing at that in another which he himself was sure to come to at last, or worse.

_FABLE XLIII._

The Splenetic Traveller.

A splenetic and a facetious man were once upon a journey: the former went slugging on with a thousand cares and troubles in his head, exclaiming over and over: “Lord, what shall I do to live?” The other jogged merrily away, and left his matters to Providence and good fortune. “Well, brother,” says the sorrowful wight, “how can you be so frolicksome now? As I am a sinner, my heart’s e’en ready to break for fear I should want bread.” “Come, come,” says the other, “fall back, fall edge, I have fixed my resolution, and my mind’s at rest.” “Ay, but for all that,” says the other, “I have known the confidence of as resolute people as yourself has deceived them in the conclusion;” and so the poor man fell into another fit of doubting and musing, till he started out of it all on a sudden: “Good Sir!” says he, “what if I should fall blind?” and so he walked a good way before his companion with his eyes shut, to try how it would be if that misfortune should befall him. In this interim, his fellow-traveller, who followed him, found a purse of money upon the way, which rewarded his trust in Providence; whereas the other missed that encounter as a punishment of his distrust; for the purse had been his, as he went first, if he had not put himself out of condition of seeing it.

MORALS.

_He that commits himself to Providence is sure of a friend in
time of need; while an anxious distrust of the divine goodness
makes a man more and more unworthy of it, and miserable
beforehand for fear of being so afterwards._

_Who with vain fancies do themselves possess,_
_Are never bless’d, or can never bless;_
_Their life perplex’d, and fretful to no end—_
_The truly wise on Providence depend._

REFLECTION.

The two opposite humours of a cheerful trust in Providence and a suspicious diffidence of it, with the ordinary effects and consequences of the one and the other, are very well set forth here for our instruction and comfort. The Divine goodness never fails those that depend upon it, provided that, according to the advice of _Hercules_ to the _Carter_, they put their own shoulders to the work.

The most wretched sort of people under the sun are your dreamers upon events, your low-spirited foreboders, supposers, and putters of cases: they are still calculating within themselves, what if this or that calamity, judgment, or disaster should befall them? and so they really suffer the evils they dread most. It is very certain, that what we _fear_ we _feel_; besides that, fancy breeds misery as naturally as it does the small-pox. Set a whimsical head once agog upon sprites and goblins, and he will be ready to squirt his wits at his own shadow. There is no surer remedy for this superstitious and desponding weakness, than first to govern ourselves by the best improvement of that reason which Providence has given us for a guide; and then, when we have done our own part, to commit all cheerfully for the rest to the good pleasure of Heaven, with trust and resignation. Why should I not as well comfort myself with the _hope_ of what may be, as torment myself with the _fear_ of it? he that distrusts in God’s providence, does effectually put himself out of His protection.

_FABLE XLIV._

The Young Man and the Swallow.

A prodigal young spendthrift, who had wasted his whole patrimony in taverns and gaming-houses among lewd, idle company, was taking a melancholy walk near a brook. It was in the month of _January_, and happened to be one of those warm sunshiny days which sometimes smile upon us even in that wintry season of the year; and to make it the more flattering, a swallow, which had made its appearance by mistake too soon, flew skimming along upon the surface of the water. The giddy youth, observing this, without any further consideration, concluded that summer was now come, and that he should have little or no occasion for clothes, so went and pawned them at the broker’s, and ventured the money for one stake more, among his sharping companions. When this too was gone the same way with the rest, he took another solitary walk in the same place as before. But the weather, being severe and frosty, had made everything look with an aspect very different from what it did before: the brook was quite frozen over, and the poor swallow lay dead upon the bank of it; the very sight of which cooled the young spark’s brains, and coming to a kind of sense of his misery, he reproached the deceased bird as the author of all his misfortunes: Ah, wretch that thou wert! says he, thou hast undone both thyself and me, who was so credulous as to depend upon thee.

MORALS.

_Some will listen to no conviction but what they derive from
fatal experience._

_Still blind to reason, nature, and his God,_
_~Youth~ follows ~pleasure~, till he feels the rod_
_Of ~sad experience~, then bemoans his fate,_
_Nor sees his ~folly~ till it is too late._

REFLECTION.

They who frequent taverns and gaming-houses, and keep bad company, should not wonder if they are reduced, in a very small time, to penury and want. The wretched young fellows who once addict themselves to such a scandalous kind of life, scarce think of, or attend to, any one thing besides. They seem to have nothing else in their heads, but how they may squander what they have got, and where they may get more when that is gone. They do not make the same use of their reason that other people do; but, like the jaundiced eye, view everything in that false light in which their distemper and debauchery represent it. The young man in the Fable gives us a pretty example of this; he sees a swallow in the midst of winter, and instead of being surprised at it, as a very irregular and extraordinary thing, concludes from thence that it is summer, as if he had never thought before about the season. Well, the result of this wise conclusion is of a piece with the conclusion itself; if it is summer, he shall not want so many clothes, therefore he sells them,—for what? For more money to squander away; as if (had his observation been just) summer would have lasted all the year round. But the true result and conclusion of all this is: When both his money and clothes are irrecoverably gone, he comes to his right senses, is ready to perish with hunger, to starve with cold, and to tear his own flesh with remorse and vexation at his former stupidity.

_FABLE XLV._

The Brother and Sister.

A certain man had two children, a son and a daughter: The boy beautiful and handsome enough; the girl not quite so well. They were both very young, and happened one day to be playing near the looking-glass, which stood on their mother’s toilet. The boy, pleased with the novelty of the thing, viewed himself for some time, and, in a wanton roguish manner, took notice to the girl how handsome he was. She resented it, and could not bear the insolent manner in which he did it; for she understood it (how could she do otherwise) as intended for a direct affront to her. Therefore she ran immediately to her father, and, with a great deal of aggravation, complained of her brother; particularly, for having acted so effeminate a part as to look in a glass, and meddle with things which belonged to women only. The father, embracing them both with much tenderness and affection, told them, that he should like to have them both look in the glass every day; to the intent that you, says he to the boy, if you think that face of yours handsome, you may not disgrace and spoil it by an ugly temper and a foul behaviour. You, says he, speaking to the girl, that you may make up for the defects of your person, if there be any, by the sweetness of your manners and the agreeableness of your conversation.

MORALS.

_We often make a false estimate in preferring our ornamental
talents to our useful ones._

_Ill manners may deform the fairest face,_
_But gentleness gives ugliness a grace:_
_Sure snarling ~Veny’s~ beauty less we prize,_
_Than ~Pug’s~ black nose with his good-natured eyes._

REFLECTION.

There is scarce anything we see in the world, especially what belongs to and hangs about our own person, but is capable of affording us matter for some serious and useful consideration. And this Fable, notwithstanding the scene of it is laid at the very beginning and entrance of life, yet utters a doctrine worthy the attention of every stage and degree thereof, from the child to the old man. Let each of us take a glass, and view himself considerately. He that is vain and self-conceited, will find beauties in every feature, and his whole shape will be without fault. Let it be so; yet, if he would be complete, he must take care that the inward man does not detract from and disgrace the outward; that the depravity of his manners does not spoil his face, nor the wrongness of his behaviour distort his limbs; or, which is the same thing, make his whole person odious and detestable to the eye of his beholders. Is any one modest in this respect, and deficient of himself? Or has he indeed blemishes and imperfections, which may depreciate him in the sight of mankind? Let him strive to improve the faculties of the mind, where perhaps nature has not crampt him; and to excel in the beauties of a good temper and an agreeable conversation, the charms of which are so much more lasting and unalterably endearing, than those of the other sort. They who are beautiful in person have this peculiar advantage, that, with a moderate regard to complaisance and good manners, they bespeak every one’s opinion in their favour. But then, be the outside of a man ever so rough and uncouth, if his acquired accomplishments are but sweet and engaging, how easily do we overlook the rest, and value him, like an oriental jewel, not by a glittering outside, which is common to baser stones, but by his true intrinsic worth, his bright imagination, his clear reason, and the transparent sincerity of his honest heart.

_FABLE XLVI._

The Mice in Council.

The Mice called a General Council; and, having met, after the doors were locked, entered into a free consultation about ways and means how to render their fortunes and estates more secure from the danger of the Cat. Many things were offered, and much was debated, _pro_ and _con_, upon the matter. At last a young Mouse, in a fine florid speech, concluded upon an expedient, and that the only one, which was to put them, for the future, entirely out of the power of the enemy: and this was, that the Cat should wear a bell about her neck, which upon the least motion would give the alarm, and be a signal for them to retire into their holes. This speech was received with great applause, and it was even proposed by some, that the Mouse who made it should have the thanks of the assembly. Upon which, an old grave Mouse, who had sat silent all the while, stood up, and in another speech, owned that the contrivance was admirable, and the author of it, without doubt, an ingenious Mouse; but, he said, he thought it would not be so proper to vote him thanks, till he should farther inform them how this bell was to be fastened about the Cat’s neck, and what Mouse would undertake to do it.

MORALS.

_The different lights, in which things appear to different
judgments, recommend candour to the opinions of others, even at
the time we retain our own._

_Not urged by vain ~ambition’s~ airy dreams,_
_Or specious ~wit~, does ~wisdom~ form her schemes,_
_Poise well the scales, with due ~reflection~ scan_
_The ~means proposed~, and then adopt a plan._

REFLECTION.

Many things appear feasible in speculation, which are afterwards found to be impracticable. And since the execution of anything is that which is to complete and finish its very existence, what raw counsellors are those who advise, what precipitate politicians those who proceed, to the management of things in their nature incapable of answering their own expectations, or their promises to others. At the same time, the Fable teaches us not to expose ourselves in any of our little politic coffee-house committees, by determining what should be done upon every occurrence of maladministration, when we have neither commission nor power to execute it. He that, upon such occasion, adjudges, as a preservative for the state, that this or that should be applied to the neck of those who have been enemies to it, will appear full as ridiculous as the Mouse in the Fable, when the question is asked, Who shall put it there? In reality we do but expose ourselves to the hatred of some, and the contempt of others, when we inadvertently utter our impracticable speculations, in respect of the public, either in private company or authorised assemblies.

_FABLE XLVII._

The Old Man and Death.

A poor feeble old man, who had crawled out into a neighbouring wood to gather a few sticks, had made up his bundle, and, laying it over his shoulders, was trudging homeward with it; but, what with age, and the length of the way, and the weight of his burden, he grew so faint and weak that he sunk under it; and, as he sat on the ground, called upon Death to come, once for all, and ease him of his troubles. Death no sooner heard him, but he came and demanded of him what he wanted. The poor old creature, who little thought Death had been so near, and frightened almost out of his senses with his terrible aspect, answered him trembling: That having by chance let his bundle of sticks fall, and being too infirm to get it up himself, he had made bold to call upon him to help him; that, indeed, this was all he wanted at present; and that he hoped his Worship was not offended with him for the liberty he had taken in so doing.

MORALS.

_Men under calamity may seem to wish for death; but they seldom
bid him welcome when he stares them in the face._

_“Oh with what joy would I resign my breath!”_
_The wretch exclaims, and prays for instant death:_
_The fiend approaching, he inverts his pray’r,_
_“Oh grant me life, and double all my care!”_

REFLECTION.

This Fable gives us a lively representation of the general behaviour of mankind towards that grim king of terrors, Death. Such liberties do they take with him behind his back, that upon every little cross accident which happens in their way, Death is immediately called upon; and they even wish it might be lawful for them to finish by their own hands a life so odious, so perpetually tormenting and vexatious. When, let but Death only offer to make his appearance, and the very sense of his near approach almost does the business: Oh then, all they want is a longer life; and they would be glad to come off so well, as to have their old burden laid upon their shoulders again. One may well conclude what an utter aversion they, who are in youth, health, and vigour of body, have to dying, when age, poverty, and wretchedness, are not sufficient to reconcile us to the thought.

_FABLE XLVIII._

The Crow and the Pitcher.

A Crow, ready to die with thirst, flew with joy to a pitcher which he beheld at some distance. When he came, he found water in it indeed, but so near the bottom, that with all his stooping and straining, he was not able to reach it. Then he endeavoured to overturn the pitcher, that so at least he might be able to get a little of it; but his strength was not sufficient for this. At last, seeing some pebbles lie near the place, he cast them one by one into the pitcher; and thus, by degrees, raised the water up to the very brim, and satisfied his thirst.

MORALS.

_What we cannot compass by force, we may by invention and
industry._

_When ~frowning~ fates thy sanguine ~hopes~ defeat,_
_And virtuous aims with ~disappointment~ meet,_
_Submit not to ~despair~, th’ attempt renew,_
_And rise ~superior~ to the ~vulgar~ crew_.

REFLECTION.

Many things which cannot be effected by strength, or by the old vulgar way of enterprising, may yet be brought about by some new and untried means. A man of sagacity and penetration, upon encountering a difficulty or two, does not immediately despair; but if he cannot succeed one way, employs his wit and ingenuity another; and, to avoid or get over an impediment, makes no scruple of stepping out of the path of his forefathers. Since our happiness, next to the regulation of our minds, depends altogether upon our having and enjoying the conveniences of life, why should we stand upon ceremony about the methods of obtaining them, or pay any deference to antiquity upon that score? If almost every age had not exerted itself in some new improvements of its own, we should want a thousand arts; or, at least, many degrees of perfection in every art, which at present we are in possession of. The invention of anything which is more commodious for the mind or body than what they had before, ought to be embraced readily, and the projector of it distinguished with a suitable encouragement. Such as the use of the compass, for example, from which mankind reaps so much benefit and advantage, and which was not known to former ages. When we follow the steps of those who have gone before us in the old beaten tract of life, how do we differ from horses in a team, which are linked to each other by a chain of harness, and move on in a dull, heavy pace to the tune of their leader’s bells? But the man who enriches the present fund of knowledge with some new and useful improvement, like a happy adventurer at sea, discovers, as it were, an unknown land, and imports an additional trade into his own country.

_FABLE XLIX._

The Fox and the Grapes.

A Fox, very hungry, chanced to come into a Vineyard, where there hung many bunches of charming ripe grapes; but nailed up to a trellis so high, that he leaped till he quite tired himself without being able to reach one of them. At last, Let who will take them! says he; they are but green and sour; so I’ll even let them alone.

MORALS.

_When a man finds it impossible to obtain the things he longs
for, it is a mark of sound wisdom and discretion to make a
virtue of necessity._

_Old maids who loathe the matrimonial state,_
_Poor rogues who laugh to scorn the rich and great,_
_Patriots who rail at placemen and at pow’r,_
_All, like sly ~Reynard~, say “~The Grapes are sour.~”_

REFLECTION.

This Fable is a good reprimand to a parcel of vain coxcombs in the world, who, because they would never be thought to be disappointed in any of their pursuits, pretend a dislike to everything which they cannot obtain. There is a strange propensity in mankind to this temper, and there are numbers of grumbling malcontents in every different faculty and sect in life. The discarded statesman, considering the corruption of the times, would not have any hand in the administration of affairs for all the world. The country squire damns a court life, and would not go cringing and creeping to a drawing-room for the best place the King has in his disposal. A young fellow, being asked how he liked a celebrated beauty, by whom all the world knew he was despised, answered, She had a stinking breath. How insufferable is the pride of this poor creature man! who would stoop to the basest, vilest actions, rather than be thought not able to do anything. For what is more base and vile than lying? And when do we lie more notoriously, than when we disparage and find fault with a thing for no other reason but because it is out of our power.

_FABLE L._

The Viper and the File.

A Viper entering a smith’s shop, looked up and down for something to eat, and seeing a File, fell to gnawing it as greedily as could be. The File told him, very gruffly, that he had best be quiet and let him alone; for that he would get very little by nibbling at one, who, upon occasion, could bite iron and steel.

MORALS.

_It’s the fate of envy to attack those characters that are
superior to its malice._

_Witlings! beware, nor wantonly provoke_
_Those who with int’rest may repay the joke;_
_Some claim our pity who fall preys to wit,_
_But all men triumph o’er the ~Biter Bit~._

REFLECTION.

By this Fable we are cautioned to consider what any person is, before we make an attack upon him after any manner whatsoever: Particularly how we let our tongues slip in censuring the actions of those who are, in the opinion of the world, not only of an unquestioned reputation, so that nobody will believe what we insinuate against them; but of such an influence, upon account of their own veracity, that the least word from them would ruin our credit to all intents and purposes. If wit be the case, and we have a satirical vein, which at certain periods must have a flow, let us be cautious at whom we level it; for if the person’s understanding be of better proof than our own, all our ingenious sallies, like liquor squirted against the wind, will recoil back upon our own faces, and make us the ridicule of every spectator. This Fable, besides, is not an improper emblem of Envy; which, rather than not bite at all, will fall foul where it can hurt nothing but itself; and such is its malignancy, that the greatest wits and brightest characters in all ages have ever been the objects of its attack. Ought we not, then, to guard against the admission of an inmate that not only attempts to injure the virtuous part of mankind, but also effectually ruins the peace of its possessor?

_FABLE LI._

The Mountains in Labour.

The Mountains were said to be in labour, and uttered most dreadful groans. People came together, far and near, to see what birth would be produced; and after they had waited a considerable time in expectation, out crept a mouse.

MORALS.

_To raise uncommon expectations renders an ordinary event
ridiculous._

_Thus the vain Alchymist, in promise bold,_
_Beholds projection big with MINES of GOLD:_
_But now, his glasses burst, he thinks him rich_
_To save ~a little oil to cure the itch~._

REFLECTION.

Great cry and little wool, is the _English_ proverb; the sense of which bears an exact proportion to this Fable. By which are exposed, all those who promise something exceeding great, but come off with a production ridiculously little. Projectors of all kinds, who endeavour by artificial rumours to raise the expectations of mankind, and then by their mean performances defeat and disappoint them, have, time out of mind, been lashed with the recital of this Fable. How agreeably surprising is it to see an unpromising favourite, whom the caprice of fortune has placed at the helm of state, serving the commonwealth with justice and integrity, instead of smothering and embezzling the public treasure to his own private and wicked ends! And on the contrary, how melancholy, how dreadful! or rather, how exasperating and provoking a sight is it to behold one, whose constant declarations for liberty and the public good have raised people’s expectations of him to the highest pitch, as soon as he is got into power exerting his whole art and cunning to ruin and enslave his country! The sanguine hopes of all those that wished well to virtue, and flattered themselves with a reformation of everything that opposed the well-being of the community, vanish away in smoke, and are lost in a dark, gloomy, uncomfortable prospect.

_FABLE LII._

The Two Frogs.

One hot sultry summer, the lakes and ponds being almost everywhere dried up, a couple of Frogs agreed to travel together in search of water. At last they came to a deep well, and sitting upon the brink of it, began to consult, whether they should leap in or no. One of them was for it; urging, that there was plenty of clear spring water, and no danger of being disturbed. Well, says t’other, all this may be true; and yet I can’t come into your opinion for my life: For, if the water should happen to dry up here too, how should we get out again?

MORALS.

_We ought never to change our situation in life, without duly
considering the consequences of such a change._

_On things of ~moment~ with thyself debate._
_Nor, inconsiderate, ~change~ thy present state,_
_Nor on the ~specious good~ lay too much stress,_
_Lest ~greater~ Ills incur, in shunning ~less~._

REFLECTION.

The moral of this Fable is intended to put us in mind _to look before we leap_. That we should not undertake any action of importance, without considering first, what the event of it is like to prove, and how we shall be able to come off, upon such and such provisos. A good General does not think he diminishes anything of his character when he looks forward, beyond the main action, and concerts measures, in case there should be occasion, for a safe retreat.

How many unfortunate matches are struck up every day for want of this wholesome consideration? Profuse living, and extravagant gaming, both which terminate in the ruin of those that follow them, are mostly owing to a neglect of this precaution. Wicked counsellors advise, and ignorant princes execute those things, which afterwards they often dearly repent. Wars are begun by this blind stupidity, from which a state is not able to extricate itself with either honour or safety; and projects are encouraged by the rash accession of those, who never considered how they were to get out, till they had plunged themselves irrecoverably into them.

_FABLE LIII._

The Thief and the Dog.

A thief coming to rob a certain house in the night, was disturbed in his attempts by a fierce vigilant dog who kept barking at him continually. Upon which the thief, thinking to stop his mouth, threw him a piece of bread: But the dog refused it with indignation; telling him, that before, he only suspected him to be a bad man; but now, upon his offering to bribe him, he was confirmed in his opinion; and that, as he was entrusted with the guardianship of his master’s house, he should never cease barking while such a rogue as he lay lurking about it.

MORALS.

_Nothing can alter the honest purposes of the man, who despises
an insidious bribe; and whose mind is proof against temptation._

_~Faithful~ to ~man~, and to thy conscience ~just~,_
_~Spurn~ him who ~tempts~ thee to ~betray~ thy trust._
_An ~honest mind’s~ the choicest gift of ~heav’n~,_
_How ~blest~ to whom th’ ~etherial spark~ is given!_

REFLECTION.

A man who is very free in his protestations of friendship, or offers of great civility, upon the first interview may meet with applause and esteem from fools, but contrives his schemes of that sort to little or no purpose, in the company of men of sense.

It is a common and known maxim, to suspect an enemy, even the more, for his endeavouring to convince us of his benevolence; because the oddness of the thing puts us upon our guard, and makes us conclude, that some pernicious design must be couched under so sudden and unexpected a turn of behaviour: But it is no unnecessary caution to be upon the watch against even indifferent people, when we perceive them uncommonly forward in their approaches of civility and kindness. The man, who at first sight makes us an offer, which is due only to particular and well-acquainted friends, must be either a knave, and intends by such a bait to draw us into his net; or a fool, with whom we ought to avoid having any communication.

Thus far the consideration of this Fable may be useful to us in private life; what it contains farther, in relation to the public, is, That a man, truly honest, will never let his mouth be stopped with a bribe; but the greater the offer is which is designed to buy his silence, the louder and more constantly will he open against the miscreants who would practise it upon him.

_FABLE LIV._

Hercules and the Carter.

As a clownish fellow was driving his Cart along a deep miry lane, the wheels stuck so fast in the clay, that the horses could not draw them out. Upon this, he fell a bawling and praying to _Hercules_ to come and help him. _Hercules_ looking down from a cloud, bid him not lie there, like an idle rascal as he was, but get up and whip his horses stoutly, and clap his shoulder to the wheel, adding, That this was the only way for him to obtain his assistance.

MORALS.

_Prayers and wishes amount to nothing: We must put forth our
own honest endeavours to obtain success on the assistance of
heaven._

_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.

This Fable shews us how vain and ill-grounded the expectations of those people are, who imagine they can obtain whatever they want by importuning heaven with their prayers; for it is so agreeable to the nature of the Divine Being, to be better pleased with virtuous actions and an honest industry, than idle Prayers, that it is a sort of blasphemy to say otherwise. These were the sentiments of honest good heathens, who were strangers to all revealed religion: But it is not strange that they should embrace and propagate such a notion, since it is no other than the dictate of common reason. What is both strange in itself, and surprising how it could be made so fashionable, is, that most of those whose reason should be enlightened by Revelation, are very apt to be guilty of this stupidity, and, by praying often for the comforts of life, to neglect that business which is the proper means of procuring them. How such a mistaken devotion came to prevail, one cannot imagine, unless from one of these two motives; either that people, by such a veil of hypocrisy, would pass themselves upon mankind for better than they really are; or are influenced by unskilful preachers (which is sometimes, indeed too often, the case) to mind the world as little as possible, even to the neglect of their necessary callings. No question but it is a great sin for a man to fail in his trade or occupation, by running often to prayers: it being a demonstration in itself, though the Scripture had never said it, that we please God most, when we are doing the most good: And how can we do more good, than by a sober honest industry, _to provide for those of our own household_, and to endeavour _to have to give to him that needeth_. The man who is virtuously and honestly engaged, is actually serving God all the while, and is more likely to have his silent wishes, accompanied with strenuous endeavours, complied with by the Supreme Being, than he who begs with a fruitless vehemence, and solicits with an empty hand: A hand which would be more religious were it usefully employed, and more devout, were it stretched forth to do good to those that want it.

_FABLE LV._

The Sick Kite.

A Kite had been sick a long time; and finding there were no hopes of recovery, begged of his mother to go to all the churches and religious houses in the country, to try what prayers and promises would effect in his behalf. The old Kite replied: Indeed, dear Son, I would willingly undertake anything to save your life, but I have great reason to despair of doing you any service in the way you propose: For, with what face can I ask anything of the Gods in favour of one whose whole life has been a continued scene of rapine and injustice, and who has not scrupled upon occasion to rob the very altars themselves?

MORALS.

_After a long life spent in acts of impiety and wickedness, we
may justly suspect the sincerity of a death-bed repentance._

_Thus early sinning, and repenting late,_
_The dying debauchee would bribe his fate;_
_Pray’rs, alms, and promises he tries in vain,_
_Not sick of follies past, but present pain._

REFLECTION.

The rehearsal of this Fable almost unavoidably draws our attention to that very serious and important point, the consideration of a death-bed repentance. And, to expose the absurdity of relying upon such a weak foundation, we need only ask the same question with the Kite in the Fable: How can he, that has offended the Gods all his life-time by doing acts of dishonour and injustice, expect that they should be pleased with him at last, for no other reason but because he fears he shall not be able to offend them any longer; when, in truth, such a repentance can signify nothing, but a confirmation of his former impudence and folly? For sure no stupidity can exceed that of the man who expects a future judgment, and yet can bear to commit any piece of injustice, with a sense and deliberation of the fact.

_FABLE LVI._

The Two Pots.

An earthen pot and one of brass, standing together upon the river’s brink, were both carried away by the flowing in of the tide. The earthen pot showed some uneasiness, as fearing he should be broken; but his companion of brass bid him be under no apprehensions, for that he would take care of him. Oh! replies the other, keep as far off as ever you can, I entreat you; it is you I am most afraid of: For, whether the stream dashes you against me, or me against you, I am sure to be the sufferer; and therefore, I beg of you, do not let us come near one another.

MORALS.

_Reciprocal pleasure and advantage is the only rational
foundation for real friendship._

_Born to the comforts of an humble state,_
_Fly their embrace, if courted by the great._
_Happy to learn, how ill you can afford_
_The vast expense of how-d’yes from my lord._

REFLECTION.

A man of a moderate fortune, who is contented with what he has, and finds he can live happily upon it, should take care not to hazard and expose his felicity by consorting with the great and the powerful. People of equal conditions may float down the current of life without hurting each other; but it is a point of some difficulty to steer one’s course in the company of the great, so as to escape without a bulge. One would not choose to have one’s little country-box situated in the neighbourhood of a very great man; for whether I ignorantly trespass upon him, or he knowingly encroaches upon me, I only am like to be the sufferer. I can neither entertain nor play with him upon his own terms; for that which is moderation and diversion to him, in me would be extravagance and ruin.

_FABLE LVII._

The Sparrow and the Hare.

A Hare, being seized by an Eagle, squeaked out in a most woful manner. A Sparrow that sat upon a tree just by and saw it, could not forbear being unseasonably witty, but called out, and said to the Hare: So ho! what! sit there and be killed? Pr’ythee, up and away; I dare say, if you would but try, so swift a creature as you are would easily escape from the Eagle. As he was going on with his cruel raillery, down came a Hawk, and snapt him up; and, notwithstanding his vain cries and lamentations, fell a devouring of him in an instant. The Hare, who was just expiring, yet received comfort from this accident, even in the agonies of death; and, addressing her last words to the Sparrow, said: You, who just now insulted my misfortune with so much security, as you thought, may please to shew us how well you can bear the like, now it has befallen you.

MORALS.

_The mutability of human affairs is such, that no situation,
however seemingly advantageous, ought to make us jest with the
misfortunes of others._

_Tradesman, insult not, if a neighbour fail._
_Lest, by and by, yourself should go to jail;_
_Nor, if a damsel slip, Prude, shake your head,_
_Lest you yourself next month be brought to bed._

REFLECTION.

Nothing is more impertinent than for people to be giving their opinion and advice in cases in which, were they to be their own, themselves would be as much at a loss what to do. But so great an itch have most men to be directors in the affairs of others, either to shew the superiority of their understanding, or their own security and exemption from the ills they would have removed, that they forwardly and conceitedly obtrude their counsel, even at the hazard of their own safety and reputation. There have been instances of those who, either officiously or for the jest’s sake, have spent much of their time in reading lectures of economy to the rest of the world, when at the same time their own ill husbandry has been such, that they were forced to quit their dwelling and take lodgings, while their goods were sold to make a composition for the debts which they owed to petty tradesmen.

Without giving more examples of this kind, of which every one may furnish himself with enough from his own observation, we cannot but conclude that none are greater objects of ridicule than they who thus merrily assume a character which, at the same time, by some incidents of their life, they convince us of their being so unfit for.

_FABLE LVIII._

The Cat and the Fox.

As the Cat and the Fox were talking politics together, on a time, in the middle of the forest, _Reynard_ said, Let things turn out ever so bad, he did not care, for he had a thousand tricks for them yet before they should hurt him. But pray, says he, Mrs Puss, suppose there should be an invasion, what course do you design to take? Nay, says the Cat, I have but one shift for it; and if that won’t do, I am undone. I am sorry for you, replies _Reynard_, with all my heart, and would gladly furnish you with one or two of mine, but indeed, neighbour, as times go, it is not good to trust; we must even be every one for himself, as the saying is, and so your humble servant. These words were scarce out of his mouth, when they were alarmed with a pack of hounds that came upon them full cry. The Cat, by the help of her single shift, ran up a tree, and sat securely among the top branches; from whence she beheld _Reynard_, who had not been able to get out of sight, overtaken with his thousand tricks, and torn in as many pieces by the dogs which had surrounded him.

MORALS.

_Successful cunning often makes an ostentatious pretension to
wisdom._

_The sly politician may boast of his arts,_
_How his budget is full, and by cunning he’s guided;_
_But the wise and the wary, less proud of his parts,_
_With a single expedient is better provided._

REFLECTION.