How shall I bring to your mind the time and
distance that separate us from the Age of
Fable? Think of what seemed to you the
longest week of your life. Think of fifty-two of
these in a year; then think of two thousand five
hundred years and try to realize that Aesop--sometimes
called the Eighth Wise Man--lived
twenty-five centuries ago and made these wonderful
tales that delight us to-day.
Shakespeare is even yet something of a mystery,
although he was born in our own era, less than
five hundred years ago; but men are still trying
to discover any new facts of his life that might
better explain his genius. A greater mystery
is grand old Homer, who has puzzled the world
for centuries. Scholars are not certain whether
the "Iliad" or "Odyssey" are the work of one
or more than one mind. Who can say? for the
thrilling tales were told--probably after the
fashion of all the minstrels of his day--more than
eight hundred years before Christ.
On the background of that dim distant long ago,
perhaps two hundred years later than Homer,
looms the magnificent figure of another mysterious
being--Aesop the Greek slave.
Wherever and whenever he lived, and whether,
in fact, he ever lived at all, he seems very real to
us, even though more than two thousand years have
passed. Among all the stories that scholars and
historians have told of him--sifting through the
centuries the true from the false--we get a vivid
picture of the man. He was born in Greece,
probably in Phrygia, about 620 years before Christ.
He had more than one master and it was the last,
Iadmon, who gave him his liberty because of his
talents and his wisdom. The historian Plutarch
recounts his presence at the court of Croesus,
King of Lydia, and his meeting Thales and Solon
there, telling us also that he reproved the wise
Solon for discourtesy toward the king. Aesop
visited Athens and composed the famous fable
of Jupiter and the Frogs for the instruction of
the citizens. Whether he left any written fables
is very uncertain, but those known by his name
were popular in Athens when that city was
celebrated throughout the world for its wit and its
learning. Both Socrates and Plato delighted
in them; Socrates, we read, having amused himself
during the last days of his life with turning
into verse some of Aesop's "myths" as he called
them. Think of Socrates conning these fables
in prison four hundred years before Christ, and
then think of a more familiar picture in our own
day--a gaunt, dark-faced, black-haired boy
poring over a book as he lay by the fireside in a
little Western farmhouse; for you remember that
Abraham Lincoln's literary models were "Aesop's
Fables," "The Pilgrim's Progress" and the
Bible. Perhaps he read the fable of the Fig
Tree, Olive, Vine, and Bramble from the ninth
chapter of Judges, or that of the Thistle and
Cedar from the fourteenth chapter of II Kings
and noted that teaching by story-telling was
still well in vogue six hundred years after Aesop.
In later times the fables that had been carried
from mouth to mouth for centuries began to
be written down: by Phaedrus in Latin and
Babrius in Greek; also, in the fourteenth century,
by a Greek monk named Planudes. But do
not suppose they had their birth or flourished
in Greece alone. At the very time that Aesop
was telling them at the court of Croesus, or in
Delphi, Corinth, or Athens,--far, far away in
India the Buddhist priests were telling fables in
the Sanskrit language to the common people, the
blind, the ignorant and the outcast. Sanskrit,
you know, is the eldest brother of all the family
of languages to which our English belongs. When
the Buddhist religion declined, the Brahmins
took up the priceless inheritance of fable and
used it for educational purposes. Their ancient
Indian sages and philosophers compiled a treatise
for the education of princes which was supposed
to contain a system of good counsel for right
training in all the chief affairs of life. In it they
inserted the choicest treasures of their wisdom
and the best rules for governing a people, and the
Rajahs kept the book with great secrecy and care.
Then a Persian king heard of its existence and
sent a learned physician to India, where he spent
several years in copying and translating the
precious manuscript, finally bringing it hack to
the court, where he declined to accept all reward
but a dress of honour. In much the same way
it was rendered into Arabic and gradually,
century by century, crept into the literature of all
Europe.
We give you some of these very fables in
the "Hitopadesa," which means "Friendly
Instruction" or "Amicable Advice" for the
original hooks contained many maxims, like the
following:
"He who is not possessed of such a book as will dispel
many doubts, point out hidden treasures, and is, as it were,
a mirror of all things, is even an ignorant man."
"These six--the peevish, the niggard, the dissatisfied,
the passionate, the suspicious, and those who live upon
others' means--are forever unhappy."
"That mother is an enemy, and that father a foe, by whom
not having been instructed, their son shineth not in the
assembly; but appeareth there like a booby among geese."
"There are two kinds of knowledge in use: the knowledge
of arms, and the knowledge of books. The first is the scoff
if the wise, whilst the last is forever honoured."
We give you other Indian fables from the
collection of Bidpai. La Fontaine in one of the
prefaces to his French fables in verse expresses his
gratitude to "Bilpay the Indian sage." These
are the very manuscripts translated from the
Sanskrit into Persian by the physician who took
them back to his king. Sir William Jones says
that "Bidpai" signifies "beloved physician" and
that Bilpay is simply a mis-spelling of the word.
As other scholars contended that Bidpai was not
a man at all, but probably one of the two wise
camels that did most of the talking in the earlier
fables, you and I will not be able to settle the truth
of the question. All these points are interesting,
or, if they are not so to you, you must say, "Wake
up!" to your mind. It is the eager spirit of
inquiry that conquers difficulties and gains
knowledge. In another preface I reminded you that
in all the faery stories the youngest brother was
the one who always said, "I wonder!" and he it
was who triumphed over all the others. You are
holding between these crimson covers fables from
some of the oldest and most valuable books the
world has ever known. The "Hitopadesa" was
a very fountain of riches, as old as the hills
themselves, precious and inexhaustible. In its
innumerable translations it passed down the stream
of time, and the fables known as Aesop's made
their way among all races of people in the same
marvellous way. No one knows whether Aesop--through
the Assyrians with whom the Phrygians
had commercial relations--borrowed his stories
from the Orientals or whether they borrowed from
him. One thing is certain, nothing persists so
strongly and lives so long as a fable or folk tale.
They migrate like the birds and make their way
into every corner of the world where there are
lips to speak and ears to hear. The reasons are,
perhaps, because they are generally brief; because
they are simple; because they are trenchant and
witty; because they are fresh and captivating and
have a bite to them like the tang of salt water;
because they are strong and vital, and what is
thoroughly alive in the beginning always lives
longest.
And, now we come to La Fontaine the French
fabulist, who in 1668 published the first six books
of his fables. "Bonhomme La Fontaine," as
he was called, chose his subjects from Aesop and
Phaedrus and Horace, and, in the later volumes,
from such Oriental sources as may have been
within his reach. He rendered the old tales in
easy-flowing verse, full of elegance and charm,
and he composed many original ones besides.
La Bruyere says of him: "Unique in his way
of writing, always original whether he invents or
translates, he surpasses his models and is himself
a model difficult to imitate. . . . He instructs
while he sports, persuades men to virtue
by means of beasts, and exalts trifling subjects
to the sublime."
Voltaire asserts: "I believe that of all authors
La Fontaine is the most universally read. He is
for all minds and all ages."
Later, by a hundred years, than La Fontaine,
comes Krilof, the Russian fable-maker, who
was born in 1768. After failing in many kinds
of literary work the young poet became intimate
with a certain Prince Sergius Galitsin; lived in
his house at Moscow, and accompanied him to
his country place in Lithuania, where he taught
the children of his host and devised entertainments
for the elders. He used often to spend
hours in the bazaars and streets and among the
common people, and it was in this way probably
that he became so familiar with the peasant life
of the country. When he came back from his
wanderings on the banks of the Volga he used to
mount to the village belfry, where he could write
undisturbed by the gnats and flies, and the children
found him there one day fast asleep among the
bells. A failure at forty, with the publication of
his first fables in verse he became famous, and
for many years he was the most popular writer
in Russia. He died in 1844 at the age of seventy-six,
his funeral attended by such crowds that the great
church of St. Isaac could not hold those who
wished to attend the service. Soon after, a public
subscription was raised among all the children
of Russia, who erected a monument in the
Summer Garden at Moscow.
There the old man sits in bronze, as he used to
sit at his window, clad in his beloved dressing
gown, an open book in his hand.
Around the monument (says his biographer) a
number of children are always at play, and the
poet seems to smile benignly on them from his
bronze easy chair. Perhaps the Grecian children
of long ago played about Aesop's statue in Athens,
for Lysippus the celebrated sculptor designed and
erected a monument in his memory.
Read Krilof's "Education of a Lion" and
"The Lion and the Mosquitoes" while his life is
fresh in your mind. Then turn to "What
Employment our Lord Gave to Insects" and "How
Sense was Distributed," in the quaint African
fables. Glance at "The Long-tailed
Spectacled Monkey" and "The Tune that Made the
Tiger Drowsy," so full of the very atmosphere of
India. Then re-read some old favourite of
Aesop and imagine you are hearing his voice, or
that of some Greek story-teller of his day, ringing
down through more than two thousand years
of time.
There is a deal of preaching in all these fables,--that
cannot be denied,--but it is concealed as
well as possible. It is so disagreeable for people
to listen while their faults and follies, their foibles
and failings, are enumerated, that the fable-maker
told his truths in story form and thereby
increased his audience. Preaching from the mouths
of animals is not nearly so trying as when it
comes from the pulpit, or from the lips of your
own family and friends!
Whether or not our Grecian and Indian, African
and Russian fable-makers have not saddled the
animals with a few more faults than they possess--just
to bolster up our pride in human nature--I
sometimes wonder; but the result has been beneficial.
The human rascals and rogues see themselves
clearly reflected in the doings of the jackals,
foxes, and wolves and may get some little distaste
for lying, deceit and trickery.
We make few fables now-a-days. We might
say that it is a lost art, but perhaps the world is too
old to be taught in that precise way, and though
the story writers are as busy as ever, the
story-tellers (alas!) are growing fewer and fewer.
If your ear has been opened by faery tales you
will have learned already to listen to and interpret
a hundred voices unheard by others. A
comprehension of faery language leads one to
understand animal conversation with perfect ease, so
open the little green doors that lead into the forest,
the true Land of Fable. Open them softly and
you will hear the Beasts talk Wisdom.