FOOTNOTES:

'A certain vanquisher of women's hearts,While still his first wife was alive and well,Married a second, and a third. They tellThe king the scandal of such shameless arts,And, as his majesty abhorred all vice,Given himself to self-denial,He gave the order in a triceTo bring the bigamist to trial,And such a punishment invent, that noneShould evermore dare do what he had done."And if the punishment to me should seem too small,Around their table will I hang the judges all."This to the judges seemed no joke:The cold sweat ran along each spine.Three days and nights they sit, but can't divineWhat punishment will best such lawless license choke.Thousands of punishments there are; but then,As all men of experience know,They cannot keep from evil evil men.This time kind Providence did help them though,And when the culprit came before the court,This was his sentence short:To give him back his three wives all together.The people wondered much at this decision,And thought the judges' lives hung by a feather;But three days had not passed beforeThe bigamist, behind his door,Himself hung to a peg with great precision:And then the sentence wrought on all great fear,And much the morals of the kingdom steadied,For from that time its annalists are clearThat no man in it more has three wives wedded.'

FOOTNOTES:[62]Bouterwick's 'History of Spanish Literature,' book iii., chap. iii.[63]London: Remington and Co., 1883.[64]London: Strahan and Co., 1868. A second edition appeared the year following.[65]Peasant.

[62]Bouterwick's 'History of Spanish Literature,' book iii., chap. iii.

[63]London: Remington and Co., 1883.

[64]London: Strahan and Co., 1868. A second edition appeared the year following.

[65]Peasant.

'With wisdom fraught,Not such as books, but such as Nature taught.'Waller.

'With wisdom fraught,Not such as books, but such as Nature taught.'

Waller.

Sir Roger L'Estrange(1616-1704) was a rabid Jacobite, journalist, and pamphleteer, and during a long life spent in fierce political conflict, in which, at times, he bore a far from estimable part, found time to translate various classical works, amongst these being Æsop's fables. L'Estrange's version (1692) of the sage is not in the best taste. It is disfigured by mannerisms and vulgarisms in language, and the applications which he appended to the fables are often a distortion of the true intent of the apologue, stated so as to support and enforce his own peculiar views in politics and religion.

Steele (1672-1729) was the author of at least one excellent fable,[66]The Mastiff and his Puppy,not unworthy to take a place beside those of the Greek sage:

'It happened one day, as a stout and honest mastiff (that guarded the village where he lived against thieves and robbers) was very gravely walking with one of his puppies by his side, all the little dogs in the street gathered round him, and barked at him. The little puppy was so offended at this affront done to his sire, that he asked him why he would not fall upon them, and tear them to pieces. To which the sire answered with great composure of mind, "If there were no curs, I should be no mastiff."'

Of other fabulists, it will be sufficient, without going into lengthy particulars, to name Allan Ramsay (1686-1758), who attempted the writing of fables, though with but doubtful success; of the thirty he produced there is not one of striking merit. Edmund Arwaker, Rector of Donaghmore, who compiled a collection of two hundred and twenty-five select fables from Æsop and others, which he entitled, 'Truth in Fiction; or, Morality in Masquerade' (1708). John Hall-Stevenson, 1718-1785 (the original of Sterne's 'Eugenius'), wrote 'Fables for Grown Gentlemen.' Edward Moore composed a series of original 'Fables for the Fair Sex' (1756), pleasing in their versification, but otherwise of no striking merit. Moore, besides a number of poems,odes and songs, wrote two comedies ('The Foundling' and 'Gil Blas') and a tragedy ('The Gamester'), in which Garrick acted the leading characters. He was also editor of theWorld, a satirical journal of the period, which had a brief life of four years. He died in poverty in 1751. Francis Gentleman (actor and dramatist), whose collection of 'Royal Fables' (1766) was dedicated to George, Prince of Wales. William Wilkie, D.D., a Scotch fabulist of some note in his day, was Professor of Natural Philosophy in St. Andrews University. In 1768 he published a volume containing sixteen fables after the manner of Gay. One of these,The Boy and the Rainbow,[67]a fable of considerable merit, has survived; the others are forgotten. Rev. Henry Rowe, whose fables tire without interesting. 'Fables for Mankind,' by Charles Westmacott. 'The Fables of Flora,' by Dr. Langhorne. Gaspey wrote a number of original fables, as did also Dr. Aitken and Walter Brown. Cowper, the poet, penned some elegant fables with which most readers are familiar. There are 'Fables for Children, Young and Old, in Humorous Verse,' by W. E. Staite (1830); Sheridan Wilson was the author of a volume entitled 'The Bath Fables' (1850); finally, there is Frere's Fables for 'Five Years Old.' Æsop's fables have been parodied and caricatured, with varying success, by differentwriters, notably by an American author, under the pseudonym of 'G. Washington Æsop.'

Of lady fabulists, the most notable is Maria de France, who lived in the first half of the thirteenth century, and made a collection of one hundred and six fables in French, which, she alleges, were translated from the English of King Alfred.[68]There are several more modern collections by members of the fair sex. One is entitled 'The Enchanted Plants, Fables in Verse;' London, 1800. The name of the author is not given, but evidently a lady. Mrs. Trimmer has her version of Æsop. A volume of original fables was published by Mary Maria Colling, a writer of humble rank, under the patronage of the once celebrated Mrs. Bray (daughter of Thomas Stothard, R.A.), and Southey, the Poet Laureate. A volume of fables, also original, by Mrs. Prosser, and 'Æsop's Fables in Words of One Syllable,' by Mary Godolphin.

Besides the fabulists already named, there are, among the ancients, Avian, Ademar, Rufus, Romulus, Alfonso and Poggio. Among the French, Nivernois, and the Abbé Fénelon (1651-1715), author of 'Dialogues of the Dead' and 'Telemachus.' Notwithstanding his reputationin his own country as a fabulist, it must be allowed that his fables are much too lengthy and prolix. The characters he gives to his animals are unnatural, and their manners and speech pointless and tame. Florian, an imitator of Yriarte, and a friend of Voltaire, by whose advice he cultivated the literature of Spain; Boursalt, Boisard, Ginguene, Jauffret, Le Grand and Armoult. Amongst the Germans are, Gellert (1746), Nicolai, Hagedorn, Pfeffel and Lichtner. The Italian fabulists are numerous: Tommaso Crudeli (1703-1743), Gian-Carlo Passeroni (1713-1803), Giambattisti Roberti (1719-1786), Luigi Grillo (1725-1790), Lorenzo Pignotti (1739-1812), who with an elegant diction combines splendid descriptive powers; Clemente Bondi (1742-1821), Aurelio de Giorgi Bertola (1753-1798), Luigi Clasio (1754-1825), Giovanni Gherardo de Rossi (1754-1827), Gaetano Perego (1814-1868) and Gaetano Polidori. Among Spanish fabulists, besides Yriarte, there is Samaniego (1745-1801). Of Russian writers of fables we have already spoken of Krilof, and there are besides, Chemnitzer, Dmitriev, Glinka, Lomonosov (1711-1765), Goncharov and Alexander Sumarakov (1718-1777). Of English writers not already referred to, the following may be named as having tried their hand at the composition of fables: Addison, Sir John Vanbrugh,[69]Prior,Goldsmith, Henryson, Coyne, Winter. Thomas Percival, M.D., President of the Literary and Philosophical Society of Manchester about the end of last century, wrote a volume of moral tales, fables, and reflections. Bussey's collection is well known. The late W. J. Macquorn Rankine, Regius Professor of Civil Engineering in Glasgow University, wrote a number of 'Songs and Fables,' which were published posthumously in a small volume in 1874. The fables, twelve in all, are an ingenious attempt, not wanting in playful humour, to elucidate the origin and meaning of some of the old and well-known signboards, such asThe Pig and Whistle,The Cat and Fiddle,The Goat and Compasses, and others. An interesting collection of one hundred and six 'Indian Fables,' in English, the materials for which were gathered from native sources and put into form by Mr. P. V. Ramaswami Raju, B.A., were originally contributed to the columns of theLeisure Hour, and afterwards published in a volume (1887).[70]

Specimens of the work of some of the writers named are given in the succeeding pages.

The Bee and the Coquette(Florian).—'Chloe,young, handsome, and a decided coquette, laboured very hard every morning on rising; people say it was at her toilet; and there, smiling and smirking, she related to her dear confidant all her pains, her pleasures, and the projects of her soul.

'A thoughtless bee, entering her chamber, began buzzing about. "Help! help!" immediately shrieked the lady. "Lizzy! Mary! here, make haste! drive away this winged monster!"

'The insolent insect settling on Chloe's lips, she fainted; and Mary, furiously seizing the bee, prepared to crush it.

'"Alas!" gently exclaimed the unfortunate insect, "forgive my error; Chloe's mouth seemed to me a rose, and as such I kissed it."

'This speech restored Chloe to her senses: "Let us forgive it," said she, "on account of its candid confession! Besides, its sting is but a trifle; since it has spoken to you, I have scarcely felt it."

'What may one not effect by a little well-timed flattery?'

'A farmer on his ass astride,Who peacefully pursued his ride,Exclaim'd, when, on a Spanish steed,A horseman pass'd with lively speed,"Ah, charming seat! what deed of mineShould thus incense the powers divine,Who doom me ne'er to shift my place,But at an ass's tardy pace?"Thus speaking, with chagrin and spite,He reach'd a rough and rocky height,Up which a poor, o'er-labour'd drudge,On tottering feet, was forc'd to trudge;With forehead prone, and bending backPress'd by a large and heavy pack.The farmer cross'd the hill at ease;Jocosely set, with lolling knees,On his poor ass, the rugged sceneAppear'd a soft and level green,No flinty points his feet annoy'd;He pass'd the panting walker's side,Yet saw him not, so rapt his brainWith dreams of Andalusia's plain.Such is the world—our bosoms broodWith keen desire o'er others' good;On this we muse, and, musing still,We rarely dream of others' ill.A further truth the tale unfolds:Each, like the ass-born hind, beholdsThe rich around on steeds of Spain,And deems their rank exempt from pain.But still let us our notice keepOn those who clamber up the steep.'

The Land of the Halt(Gellert).—'Many years since, in a small territory, there was not one of the inhabitants who did not stutter when he spoke, and halt in walking; both these defects, moreover, were considered accomplishments. A stranger saw the evil, and, thinking how they would admire his walking, went about without halting, after the usual manner of our race. Everyone stopped to look at him, and all those who looked, laughed, and, holding their sides to repress their merriment,shouted: "Teach the stranger how to walk properly!"

'The stranger considered it his duty to cast the reproach from himself. "You halt," he cried, "it is not I; you must accustom yourselves to leave off so awkward a habit!" This only increased the uproar, when they heard him speak; he did not even stammer; this was sufficient to disgrace him, and he was laughed at throughout the country.

'Habit will render faults, which we have been accustomed to regard from youth, beautiful; in vain will a stranger attempt to convince us that we are in error. We look upon him as a madman, solely because he is wiser than ourselves.'

'Thus speaks an adage, somewhat old,"Truth is not to be always told."What eye but, struck with outward show,Admires the pretty thing, a beau?Which both by Art and Nature made is,The sport of sense, the toy of ladies.A mortal of this tiny mould,In clothes of silk, adorned with gold,And dressed in ev'ry point of sightTo give the world of taste delight,Prepared to enter his sedan,A birthday picture of a man,Cried out in vain soliloquy:"Was ever creature formed like me?By Art or Nature's nicest careMade more complete and debonnair?I see myself, with perfect joy,Of human kind theje ne sçai quoy;In ev'rything I rival France,In fashion, wit, and sprightly dance;So charming are my shape and parts,I'm formed for captivating hearts;The proudest toast, when in the vein,I take at once bycoup de main;Mort de ma vie, 'tis magic all,I look, and vanquished women fall!"One of the race of butterflies,An insect far more nice than wise,Who, from his sunny couch of glass,Had listened to the two-legged ass,With intermeddling zeal replied:"Unequalled folly! matchless pride!Shalt thou, a patchwork creature, claimMore lovely shape, or greater name,Than one of us? Assert thy right—Stand naked in my critic sight!"To parent earth at once resignThe produce of her golden mine;Give to the worm her silken store,The diamond to Golconda's shore;Nor let the many teeth you wantBe plundered from the elephant;Let native locks adorn thy head,Nor glow thy cheeks with borrowed red;Give to the ostrich back his plume,Nor rob the cat of her perfume;Here to the beaver yield at onceHis fur which crowns thy empty sconce;In short, appear through every partNo more, nor less, than what thou art;Then little better than an apeWill show thy metamorphosed shape;While butterflies to death retainThe beauties they from Nature gain."You'll say, perhaps, our sojourn hereIs less, by half, than half a year;That churlish winter surely bringsDestruction to our painted wings.I grant the truth. Now, answer me:Can beaus outlive adversity?Will milliners and tailors joinTo make a foppish beggar fine?'Tis certain, no. Of glitter made,You surely vanish in the shade.Compared, then, who will dare denyA beau is less than butterfly?"'

'The prudent nymph, whose cheeks discloseThe lily and the blushing rose,From public view her charms will screen,And rarely in the crowd be seen.This simple truth shall keep her wise:"The fairest fruits attract the flies."One night a glow-worm, proud and vain,Contemplating her glitt'ring train,Cried, "Sure there never was in NatureSo elegant, so fine a creature;All other insects that I see—The frugal ant, industrious bee,Or silk-worm—with contempt I view;With all that low, mechanic crewWho servilely their lives employIn business, enemy to joy.Mean, vulgar herd! ye are my scorn,For grandeur only I was born;Or, sure, am sprung from race divine,And placed on earth to live and shine.Those lights, that sparkle so on high,Are but the glow-worms of the sky;And kings on earth their gems admireBecause they imitate my fire."She spoke. Attentive on a spray,A nightingale forebore his lay;He saw the shining morsel near,And flew, directed by the glare;Awhile he gazed, with sober look,And thus the trembling prey bespoke:"Deluded fool, with pride elate,Know 'tis thy beauty brings thy fate;Less dazzling, long thou mightst have lain,Unheeded on the velvet plain.Pride, soon or late, degraded mourns,And beauty wrecks whom she adorns."'

It is interesting to observe how a true poet, Cowper, treats the same subject, the object or moral of the fable, however, being different:

'A nightingale, that all day longHad cheer'd the village with his song,Nor yet at eve his note suspended,Nor yet when eventide was ended,Began to feel, as well he might,The keen demands of appetite;When, looking eagerly around,He spied far off, upon the ground,A something shining in the dark,And knew the glow-worm by his spark;So, stooping down from hawthorn top,He thought to put him in his crop.The worm, aware of his intent,Harangued him thus, right eloquent:"Did you admire my lamp," quoth he,"As much as I your minstrelsy,You would abhor to do me wrong,As much as I to spoil your song;For 'twas the selfsame Power DivineTaught you to sing and me to shine;That you with music, I with light,Might beautify and cheer the night."The songster heard his short oration,And, warbling out his approbation,Released him—as my story tells—And found a supper somewhere else.Hence jarring sectaries may learnTheir real interest to discern;That brother should not war with brother,And worry and devour each other;But sing and shine by sweet consent,Till life's poor transient night is spent,Respecting in each other's caseThe gifts of nature and of grace.Those Christians best deserve the nameWho studiously make peace their aim;Peace both the duty and the prizeOf him that creeps and him that flies.'

Other excellent fables of Cowper will occur to the reader, as, for example:The Raven,The Contest between Nose and Eyes,The Poet, the Oyster and the Sensitive Plant, andPairing Time Anticipated.

'Declare, ye sages, if ye find'Mongst animals of every kind,Of each condition, sort, and size,From whales and elephants to flies,A creature that mistakes his plan,And errs so constantly as man.Each kind pursues his proper good,And seeks for pleasure, rest, and food,As Nature points, and never errsIn what it chooses and prefers;Man only blunders, though possestOf talents far above the rest.Descend to instances, and try:An ox will scarce attempt to fly,Or leave his pasture in the woodWith fishes to explore the flood.Man only acts, of every creature,In opposition to his nature.The happiness of humankindConsists in rectitude of mind,A will subdued to reason's sway,And passions practised to obey;An open and a gen'rous heart,Refined from selfishness and art;Patience which mocks at fortune's pow'r,And wisdom never sad nor sour:In these consist our proper bliss;Else Plato reasons much amiss.But foolish mortals still pursueFalse happiness in place of true;Ambition serves us for a guide,Or lust, or avarice, or pride;While reason no assent can gain,And revelation warns in vain.Hence, through our lives in every stage,From infancy itself to age,A happiness we toil to find,Which still avoids us like the wind;Ev'n when we think the prize our own,At once 'tis vanished, lost and gone.You'll ask me why I thus rehearseAll Epictetus in my verse,And if I fondly hope to pleaseWith dry reflections such as these,So trite, so hackneyed, and so stale?I'll take the hint, and tell a tale.One evening, as a simple swainHis flock attended on the plain,The shining bow he chanced to spy,Which warns us when a shower is nigh;With brightest rays it seemed to glow,Its distance eighty yards or so.This bumpkin had, it seems, been toldThe story of the cup of gold,Which fame reports is to be foundJust where the rainbow meets the ground.He therefore felt a sudden itchTo seize the goblet and be rich;Hoping—yet hopes are oft but vain—No more to toil through wind and rain,But sit indulging by the fire,Midst ease and plenty, like a squire.He marked the very spot of landOn which the rainbow seemed to stand,And, stepping forwards at his leisure,Expected to have found the treasure.But as he moved, the coloured rayStill changed its place and slipt away,As seeming his approach to shun.From walking he began to run,But all in vain; it still withdrewAs nimbly as he could pursue.At last, through many a bog and lake,Rough craggy road and thorny brake,It led the easy fool, till nightApproached, then vanished in his sight,And left him to compute his gains,With nought but labour for his pains.'

Professor Rankine evidently took Æsop's illustration of 'The Bow Unbent' to heart, when, relaxing his severer studies, he occupied occasional hours in composing 'Songs and Fables.' The three following pieces are examples of his work as a fabulist, and of his skill in interpreting the meaning of popular signs:

'The Magpie and Stump.—A magpie was in the habit of depositing articles which he pilfered in the hollow stump of a tree. "I grieve less," the stump was heard to say, "at the misfortune of losing my branches and leaves, than at the disgrace of being made a receptacle for stolen goods." Moral:Infamy is harder to bear than adverse fortune.'

'The Green Man.—A green man, wandering through the Highlands of Scotland, discovered, in a sequestered valley, a still, with which certain unprincipled individuals were engaged in the illicit manufacture of aqua-vitæ. Being, as we have stated, a green man, he was easily persuaded by those unprincipled individuals to expend a considerable sum in the purchase of the intoxicating produce of their still, and to drink so much of it that he speedily became insensible. On awaking next morning, with an empty purse and an aching head, he thought, with sorrow and shame, what a green man he had been. Moral:He who follows the advice of unprincipled individuals is a green man indeed.'

'The Bull and Mouth.—A native of the Sister Isle having opened his mouth during a convivial entertainment, out flew a bull, whereupon some of the company manifested alarm. "Calm your fears," said the sagacious host; "verbal bulls have no horns." Moral:Harmless blunders are subjects of amusement rather than of consternation.'

The following curious 'Birth Story,' from the collection of Indian Fables by Mr. P. V. Ramaswami Raju, is an ironical commentary on the doctrine of transmigration, in which the followers of Buddha implicitly believe:

'One day a king in the far East was seated in the hall of justice. A thief was brought before him; he inquired into his case, and said he should receive one hundred lashes with a cat-o'-nine-tails. Instantly he recollected an old Eastern saying, "What we do to others in this birth, they will do to us in the next," and said to his minister, "I have a great mind to let this thief go quietly, for he is sure to give me these one hundred lashes in the next birth." "Sire," replied the minister, "I know the saying you refer to is perfectly true, but you must understand you are simply returning to the thief in this birth what he gave you in the last." The king was perfectly pleased with this reply, says the story, and gave his minister a rich present.'

This selection of fables may be suitably concludedby two which, though not original, we have not met with in print. The first is entitledThe Nightingale, the Cuckoo and the Ass:[71]

'The nightingale and the cuckoo disputed as to which of them was the best singer, and they chose the ass to be the judge. First, the nightingale poured forth one of his most entrancing lays, followed by the cuckoo, with his two mellow notes. Being requested to deliver judgment, said the ass, "Without doubt the trill of the nightingale is worth listening to; but for a good plain song give me that of the cuckoo!"'

The moral here is obvious. Persons with a want of taste, or with a depraved taste, see no difference between things excellent and mean. Nay, they will often be found to prefer the mean, as being more in harmony with their own predilections.

The next is the shortest fable on record; its humour is as conspicuous as its brevity, and it hails from the County Palatine of Lancashire. It is named TheFlea and the Elephant:

'Passing into the ark together, said the flea to its big brother: "Now, then, mister! no thrutching!"

'Moral: Insignificance has often its full share of self-importance.'

FOOTNOTES:[66]'The Tatler,' No. 115, vol iii., p. 7.[67]Post, p.137.[68]Mr. Joseph Jacobs, in his erudite 'History of the Æsopian Fable,' shows that this was a mistake on the part of Maria de France, and that the author of the work from which her translation was made was not the King, but 'Alfred the Englishman,' who flourished aboutA.D.1170.[69]Vanbrugh, the architect, noted for the solidity of the structures he designed, and on whom the epitaph, one of the best epigrams ever penned, was proposed:'Lie heavy on him, Earth, for heLaid many a heavy load on thee.'[70]London: Swan Sonnenschein, Lowrey and Co.[71]Krilof'sAss and Nightingalebears some resemblance to the fable here given; but, instead of the cuckoo, the cock is one of the competitors.

[66]'The Tatler,' No. 115, vol iii., p. 7.

[67]Post, p.137.

[68]Mr. Joseph Jacobs, in his erudite 'History of the Æsopian Fable,' shows that this was a mistake on the part of Maria de France, and that the author of the work from which her translation was made was not the King, but 'Alfred the Englishman,' who flourished aboutA.D.1170.

[69]Vanbrugh, the architect, noted for the solidity of the structures he designed, and on whom the epitaph, one of the best epigrams ever penned, was proposed:'Lie heavy on him, Earth, for heLaid many a heavy load on thee.'

[69]Vanbrugh, the architect, noted for the solidity of the structures he designed, and on whom the epitaph, one of the best epigrams ever penned, was proposed:

'Lie heavy on him, Earth, for heLaid many a heavy load on thee.'

[70]London: Swan Sonnenschein, Lowrey and Co.

[71]Krilof'sAss and Nightingalebears some resemblance to the fable here given; but, instead of the cuckoo, the cock is one of the competitors.

'Out, out, brief candle.'Shakespeare:Macbeth.

'Out, out, brief candle.'

Shakespeare:Macbeth.

Picturesillustrating fables are a feature that tends to enhance their attractiveness and value, and the ablest artists have employed their pencils in the work. It is sufficient to mention Bewick and his pupils, whose illustrations are greatly prized. S. Howitt's etchings of animals in illustration of the fabulists (1811). Northcote's original volumes (1828-33) are illustrated with 560 charming engravings from the author's designs. Robert Cruikshank illustrated the 'Fables for Mankind,' by Charles Westmacott (1823). Blake, Stothard, Harvey, and Sir John Tenniel, the distinguishedPunchartist, have gained applause in the same field. The latter illustrated a small volume of Æsop published by Murray in 1848. This is 'A NewVersion of the Old Fables, chiefly from Original Sources,' by the Rev. Thomas James, M.A., and contains an introduction which is worthy of perusal by those interested in the subject. The first edition of the work is a rarity sought for by collectors. Randolph Caldecott illustrated some of Æsop's fables in his own inimitable style. Walter Crane[72]and Harrison Weir[73]have exercised their talents in the same direction, and Mrs. Hugh Blackburn has supplied clever illustrations to Rankine's fables. The pictures in the collection of fables made by G. Moir Bussey (1842) are from designs by J. J. Grandville, and are full of originality and humour. The same volume also contains an excellent 'Dissertation on the History of Fable.' The spirited and masterly designs of Oudry in illustration of La Fontaine are justly prized and highly valued. Gustave Doré also employed his facile pencil in illustrating the same author.

There are books bearing the title of 'Fables' the contents of which are not fables in the restricted sense. Of these are Dryden's so-called fables, which are really metrical romances. A competent critic has pronounced them to be the 'noblest specimens of versification to be foundin any modern language,' but we need not speak further of them in this connection. Again, there is Bernard Mandeville's eccentric work, entitled 'The Fable of the Bees; or, Private Vices Public Benefits.' This is an apologue in rhyme, with a moral in addition, and followed by a voluminous prose disquisition on questions of morality, partaking of all the audacious paradoxical elements which characterized its ingenious author. Thomas Moore, the distinguished Irish poet, wrote a series of eight political fables, which were originally published by him under the pseudonym of 'Thomas Brown.' Neither these nor that of Mandeville, however, are fables from our point of view. The same remark applies to Lowell's well-known 'Fable for Critics,' and Lord Lytton's 'Fables in Song,' on which it is unnecessary to dwell.

And so, having taken our survey of the fabulist and his work, we conclude, as we rightly may, that he is both philosopher and poet, but more poet than philosopher, inasmuch as the imaginative faculty is greatly at his command. Further, as saith Sir Philip Sidney,[74]'The philosopher teacheth, but he teacheth obscurely, so as the learned only can understand him; that is to say, he teacheth them that are already taught. But the poet is the food for the tenderest stomachs;the poet is, indeed, the right popular philosopher. Whereof Æsop's tales give good proof; whose pretty allegories, stealing under the formal tales of beasts, make many, more beastly than beasts, begin to hear the sound of virtue from these dumb speakers.'

FOOTNOTES:[72]'The Baby's Own Æsop;' the fables condensed in rhyme by W. J. Linton. Routledge, 1887.[73]'Æsop's Fables,' translated from the Greek by the Rev. George Fyler Townsend, M.A. Routledge.[74]'A Defence of Poesie.'

[72]'The Baby's Own Æsop;' the fables condensed in rhyme by W. J. Linton. Routledge, 1887.

[73]'Æsop's Fables,' translated from the Greek by the Rev. George Fyler Townsend, M.A. Routledge.

[74]'A Defence of Poesie.'

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