STORIES RELATED OF ÆSOP.
'I cannot tell how the truth may be;
I say the tale as 'twas said to me.'
SCOTT: _The Lay of the Last Minstrel_.
'Such the simple story told,
By a sage[26] renowned of old,
To a king[27] whose fabled gold
Could not procure him learning.'
JAMES CLERK MAXWELL.
There are numerous tales told of Æsop, some of which are obviously
mythical; others, though their actual parentage may be doubtful, are
entirely in keeping with his reputation for common, or uncommon,
sense and ready wit. Phædrus has several of these, and Planudes, an
untrustworthy chronicler, as we have seen, has many more. Some of the
stories of the latter are absurd enough, and bordering perhaps on
the foolish; but, on the other hand, he tells several that may be
pronounced excellent in every sense, and whatever the shortcomings of
the monk in other respects, he deserves credit for having rescued these
from the oblivion which otherwise might have been their fate.
Most writers, especially modern writers, on Æsop, have scouted with an
unnecessary display of eclecticism the whole of the stories collected
by Planudes regarding his hero; but in this they show a want of
discrimination. Whether the stories are true of Æsop or not, and I
know of no character on whom they may be more aptly fathered, they are
as ripe in wisdom as are many of the best of the fables, and their
pedigree is quite as authentic.
Philostratus, in his life of Apollonius Tyaneus, gives the following
mythical account of the youthful Æsop: When a shepherd's boy, he fed
his flock near a temple of Mercury, and frequently prayed to the god
for mental endowments. Many other supplicants also came and laid rich
presents upon the altar, but Æsop's only offering was a little milk and
honey, and a few flowers, which the care of his sheep did not allow him
to arrange with much art. The mercenary god disposed of his gifts in
proportion to the value of the offerings. To one he gave philosophy, to
another eloquence, to a third astronomy, and to a fourth the poetical
art. When all these were given away he perceived Æsop, and recollecting
a fable which the Hours had related to him in his infancy, he bestowed
upon him the invention of the Apologue.
Even when a slave, readiness of resource was a characteristic of Æsop,
and often stood him in good stead. His first master, Demarchus, one
day brought home some choice figs, which he handed to his butler,
telling him that he would partake of them after his bath. The butler
had a friend paying him a visit, and by way of entertainment placed
the figs before him, and both heartily partook of them. Fearing the
displeasure of Demarchus, he resolved to charge Æsop with the theft.
Having finished his ablutions, Demarchus ordered the fruit to be
brought; but the butler had none to bring, and charged Æsop with having
stolen and eaten them. The slave, being summoned, denied the charge. It
was a serious matter for one in his position. To be guilty meant many
stripes, if not death. He begged to have some warm water, and he would
prove his innocence. The water being brought, he took a deep drink;
then, putting his finger down his gullet, the water--the sole contents
of his stomach--was belched. Demarchus now ordered the butler to do the
same, with the result that he was proved to be both thief and liar,
and was punished accordingly.
Æsop going on a journey for his master, along with other slaves of the
household, and there being many burdens to carry, he begged they would
not overload him. Looking upon him as weak in body, his fellow-slaves
gave him his choice of a load. On this, Æsop selected the pannier of
bread, which was the heaviest burden of all, at which his companions
were amazed, and thought him a fool. Noon came, however, and when they
had each partaken of its contents, Æsop's burden was lightened by one
half. At the next meal all the bread was cleared out, leaving Æsop with
only the empty basket to carry. At this their eyes were opened, and
instead of the fool they at first thought him, he was seen to be the
wisest of them all.
The second master who owned Æsop as a slave was Zanthus, the
philosopher. Their meeting was in this wise: Æsop being in the
marketplace for sale along with two other slaves, Zanthus, who was
looking round with a view to making a purchase, asked them what they
could do. Æsop's companions hastened to reply, and between them
professed that they could do 'everything.' On Æsop being similarly
questioned, he laughingly answered, 'Nothing.' His two fellow-slaves
had forestalled him in all possible work, and left him with nothing to
do. This reply so amused Zanthus that he selected Æsop in preference to
the others who were so boastful of their abilities.
Zanthus once, when in his cups, had foolishly wagered his land and
houses that he would drink the sea dry. Recovering his senses, he
besought Æsop his slave to find him a way out of his difficulty. This
Æsop engaged to do. At the appointed time, when the foolish feat was to
be performed, or his houses and lands forfeited, Zanthus, previously
instructed by Æsop, appeared at the seaside before the multitude which
had assembled to witness his expected discomfiture. 'I am ready,' cried
he, 'to drain the waters of the sea to the last drop; but first of all
you must stop the rivers from running into it: to drink these also is
not in the contract.' The request was admitted to be a reasonable one,
and as his opponents were powerless to perform their part, they were
covered with derision by the populace, who were loud in their praises
of the wisdom of Zanthus.
Philosopher notwithstanding, Zanthus appears to have been often in hot
water. On another occasion his wife left him, whether on account of her
bad temper (as the report goes), or from his too frequent indulgence in
liquor (as is not unlikely), matters little. He was anxious that she
should return, but how to induce her was a difficulty hard to compass.
Æsop, as usual, was equal to it. 'Leave it to me, master!' said he.
Going to market, he gave orders to this dealer and that and the other,
to send of their best to the residence of Zanthus, as, being about to
take unto himself another wife, he intended to celebrate the happy
occasion by a feast. The report spread like wildfire, and coming to
the ears of his spouse, she quickly gathered up her belongings in the
place where she had taken up her abode, and returned to the house of
her lord and master. 'Take another wife, say you, Zanthus! Not whilst I
am alive, my dear!' And so the ruse was successful, for, as the story
affirms, she settled down to her duties, and no further cause for
separation occurred between them ever after.
Phædrus relates several stories showing the characteristic readiness
of the sage. A mean fellow, seeing Æsop in the street, threw a stone
at him. 'Well done!' was his response to the unmannerly action. 'See!
here is a penny for you; on my faith it is all I have, but I will
tell you how you may get something more. See, yonder comes a rich and
influential man. Throw a stone at him in the same way, and you will
receive a due reward.' The rude fool, being persuaded, did as he was
advised. His daring impudence, however, brought him a requital he did
not hope for, though it was what he deserved, for, being seized, he
paid the penalty. Æsop in this incident exhibited not only his ready
wit, but his deep craft, inasmuch as he brought condign punishment upon
his persecutor by the hand of another, though he himself, being only a
slave, might be insulted with impunity.
An Athenian, seeing Æsop at play in the midst of a crowd of boys,
stopped and laughed and jeered at him for a madman. The sage, a laugher
at others rather than one to be laughed at, perceiving this, placed
an unstrung bow in the middle of the road. 'Hark you, wise man,' said
he; 'unriddle what this means.' The people gathered round, whilst the
man tormented his invention for a long time, trying to frame an answer
to the riddle; but at last he gave it up. Upon this the victorious
philosopher said: 'The bow will soon break if you always keep it bent,
but relax it occasionally, and it will be fit for use, and strong, when
it is wanted'--a piece of sound advice which others than the wiseacre
chiefly concerned would find it advantageous to practise.
A would-be author had recited some worthless composition to Æsop,
in which was contained an inordinate eulogy of himself and his own
powers, and, desiring to know what the sage thought about it, asked:
'Does it appear to you that I have been too conceited? I have no empty
confidence in my own capacity.' Worried to death with the execrable
production, Æsop replied: 'I greatly approve of your bestowing praise
on yourself, for it will never be your lot to receive it from another.'
In the course of a conversation, being asked by Chilo (one of the wise
men of Greece), 'What is the employment of the gods?' Æsop's answer
was: 'To depress the proud and exalt the humble.' And in allusion to
the sorrows inseparable from the human lot, his explanation, at once
striking and poetical, was that 'Prometheus having taken earth to form
mankind, moistened and tempered it, not with water, but with tears.'
Apart from wisdom in the highest sense, Æsop possessed no little
share of worldly wisdom, or political wisdom--often only another name
for chicane--and exercised it as occasion served. It is related by
Plutarch, in the 'Life of Solon,' that 'Æsop being at the Court of
Crœsus at a time when the seven sages of Greece were also present,
the King, having shown them the magnificence of his Court and the
vastness of his riches, asked them, "Whom do you think the happiest
man?" Some of them named one, and some another. Solon (whom without
injury we may look upon as superior to all the rest) in his answer
gave two instances. The first was that of one Tellus, a poor Athenian,
but of great virtues, who had eminently distinguished himself by his
care and education of his family, and at last lost his life in fighting
for his country. The other was of two brothers who had given a very
remarkable proof of their filial piety, and were in reward for it taken
out of this life by the gods the very night after they had performed
so dutiful an action. He concluded by adding that he had given such
instances because no one could be pronounced happy before his death.
Æsop perceived that the King was not well satisfied with any of their
answers, and being asked the same question, replied "that for his part
he was persuaded that Crœsus had as much pre-eminence in happiness
over all other men as the sea has over all the rivers."
'The King was so much pleased with this compliment that he eagerly
pronounced that sentence which afterwards became a common proverb,
"The Phrygian has hit the mark." Soon after this happened, Solon took
his leave of Crœsus, and was dismissed very coolly. Æsop, on his
departure, accompanied him part of his journey, and as they were on
the road took an opportunity of saying to him, "Oh, Solon, either we
must not speak to kings, or we must say what will please them." "On
the contrary," replied Solon, "we should either not speak to kings
at all, or we should give them good and useful advice." So great was
the steadiness of the chief of the sages, and such the courtliness of
Æsop.'[28]
It will be noticed that this reply of Æsop to the question of the King
was evasive, though the vanity of the latter probably prevented his
remarking it. He does not declare the King to be the happiest man, but
leaves it to be inferred that, assuming happiness to be attained by
men during life (which Solon denied), then was Crœsus pre-eminent
over all others in that respect. It must be admitted that the answer
does not display the character of Æsop in the best light as a moralist,
however much it may exalt his reputation as a courtier. There probably
was a good deal of the fox in his nature, and this, not less than his
wisdom, enabled him to maintain his position at the Court of this vain
and wealthy potentate.
FOOTNOTES:
[26] Solon.
[27] Crœsus.
[28] Quoted from the 'Life of Æsop' in the introduction to Dodsley's
'Select Fables.'