Fables of La Fontaine — The Life of Aesop, the Phrygian, part 2

On the following day, when the vapours of the wine had evaporated, Xantus was extremely surprised to find that his ring had disappeared from his finger, and with horror learned from Æsop that not only his ring, but his house also, were the forfeitures of the ridiculous wager which he had made over-night.

Vexed beyond measure, the philosopher condescended to entreat Æsop to help him out of his difficulty.

And this is what came of the Phrygian's advice.

When the day arrived for the decision of the wager, the whole population of Samos rushed to the sea-shore to be witnesses of the philosopher's defeat; but, just as one of his disciples who had made the bet with him began to glory in his victory, the philosopher said to the assembled multitude, "It is quite true that I have bet that I would drink up the whole of the sea;

but I certainly never engaged to drink up all the rivers which flow into it.

I must request, therefore, that the gentleman with whom I have made the bet will first prevent the rivers from flowing into the sea.

When he has done that, I shall be very happy to fulfil my portion of the wager."

It need scarcely be said that every one applauded the adroitness with which Xantus had got out of his difficulty.

The disciple confessed that he was vanquished, begged his master's pardon, and Xantus was conducted to his home with great applause.

As a recompense for this happy hint, Æsop begged for his liberty, which Xantus refused, saying that the moment for Æsop's freedom had not yet come; but that if the gods should intimate that it had, he would willingly grant it.

If, for instance, he said, two crows should meet his sight on his first leaving the house, he would grant the request;

but that if he should see one only, Æsop should continue to be a slave.

Æsop at once went out, whilst his master retired to a neighbouring grove.

Our Phrygian had scarcely sallied forth when he perceived two crows caw-caw-ing together upon a lofty branch, and ran to tell his master.

Of course, Xantus hastened to see the fact for himself, and before he could reach the spot one of the crows had flown away.

"Ah, ah!"

said the philosopher to Æsop, "you are determined to be always cheating me, are you?

Here, you fellows, give this rascal a good horse-whipping."

This order was at once carried into effect, and whilst the punishment was going on Xantus was invited to a repast, and he sent word to say that he would attend at the time and place appointed.

"Alas!"

exclaimed Æsop, "what lies, then, are the forewarnings of heaven!

Here am I, who have seen two crows, suffering the torments of the lash, whilst my master, who has seen but one, is invited to a nuptial feast."

This sarcasm so pleased Xantus that he gave orders that Æsop should be taken down from the triangles; but, nevertheless, he could not as yet prevail upon himself to give the Phrygian his often promised liberty.

One day as the master and man were wandering amongst old monuments, reading with much pleasure the inscriptions, Xantus came to one which he could not understand, although he remained a considerable time trying to explain it.

It was composed of the first letters of certain words, and the philosopher avowed that he could not solve the problem which it presented.

"If I help you to find a treasure by means of those letters," said Æsop, "what will you give me?"

Xantus promised him his liberty and half the treasure.

"They mean, then," said Æsop, "that four paces from this column a treasure lies concealed."

After having dug for some time they found that such was indeed the case.

The philosopher was now called upon to keep his word; but he still declined to do so.

"May the gods forbid I should set you free," said he to Æsop, "before you have explained the mystery of those letters.

To know that will be a greater treasure to me than what we have found."

"Well," said Æsop, "they have been engraved here as the first letters of these words, Απόβας Βήματα, &amp;c. ; that is to say, <i>If you step back four paces</i> and then dig, you will find a treasure."

"As you are so clever," said Xantus, "I should be wrong to part with you; so give up the idea that you will ever be free."

"And I, for my part," said Æsop, "will denounce you to King Denys, for it is to him that the treasure belongs, and these letters are the initials of other words which state the fact."

The philosopher, alarmed, told his slave to take his part of the treasure and to say nothing about it; on which Æsop declared that he was under no obligation to him, for that these letters had been selected in such a manner that they contained a triple sense, and signified still further, "As you go away, you will divide the treasure which you have discovered."

When they had returned home, Xantus ordered that Æsop should be put in irons and imprisoned, for fear that he should make the adventure known.

"Alas!"

cried Æsop, "is it thus that these philosophers fulfil their promises?

But do as you will, Master Xantus, you shall set me free at last in spite of yourself."

This prediction turned out to be true.

A prodigy appeared, by which the Samians were greatly frightened.

An eagle carried off the public ring (some seal apparently which was affixed to the proceedings of the Town Council), and let it drop into the bosom of a slave.

The philosopher was consulted on the matter, both in his capacity as a philosopher and as being one of the Republic.

He asked for time, and had recourse to his usual oracle, Æsop.

The latter advised him to produce him in public, since, if he succeeded well, the philosopher would have the honour, and if he failed, he, Æsop, would alone bear the blame.

Xantus approved of this course, and presented him before the chief assembly of the citizens.

As soon as the Phrygian appeared, every one burst into a fit of laughter; no one supposed that anything sensible could come from the mouth of one so grotesquely formed.

Æsop told them, however, that they should not consider the fashion of the vase, but the liquor which it contained; whereupon the Samians cried out to him to say without fear what he thought of the prodigy.

But Æsop excused himself on the ground that he dare not.

"Fortune," he said, "had raised a strife for glory between the master and the slave.

If the slave spoke badly, he would be beaten; and if he spoke better than his master, he would still be beaten."

Upon this every one pressed Xantus to set the Phrygian free.

The philosopher obstinately resisted for some time; but at length the provost of the town threatened to do so himself, in virtue of his magisterial power.

This had the desired effect, and Æsop was set free, upon which he declared the Samians were threatened by this prodigy with being reduced to a state of servitude, and that the carrying off of their ring by the eagle was symbolic of a powerful monarch who was desirous of subjugating them.

Shortly afterwards Crœsus, King of the Lydians, announced to the Samians that if they did not become his tributaries, he would compel them to do so by force of arms.

The greater number were for obeying his commands.

Æsop told them that Fortune offered to men the choice of two roads: the one, that of liberty, rough and thorny at the commencement, but afterwards very pleasant; and the other that of slavery, which at first was easy, but was afterwards very laborious.

This was, in effect, plain advice to the Phrygians to defend their liberties; so they dismissed the monarch's envoy, unsatisfied as to his demands.

Crœsus at once made preparations to attack them, but was informed by his ambassador that, as long as they had Æsop amongst them, he would find it difficult to reduce them, such well-grounded confidence had they in that person's wisdom.

Crœsus accordingly sent to the Samians to demand the Phrygian of them; declaring that, if they would give him up to him, he would respect their liberty.

The rulers of the state regarded these conditions as advantageous, and thought that the sacrifice of Æsop would be a cheap means of obtaining peace.

The Phrygian, however, made them change this opinion by telling them how the wolves and the sheep, having made a treaty of peace, the latter gave up their dogs as hostages.

When they no longer had protectors, the wolves were able to devour them with less trouble than formerly.

This fable had its effect, and the Samians then came to a resolution precisely contrary to the one they had just adopted.

Æsop, however, was desirous of his own accord of going to Crœsus, and said that he could serve them better if he were with the king than if he remained at Samos.

When Crœsus saw him, he was astonished that so mean-looking a person had been such an obstruction to his plans.

"What!"

he cried, "see what sort of a creature it is that has dared to oppose my will!"

Æsop prostrated himself, and said, "A man in pursuit of locusts happened to catch hold of a grasshopper, and was about to kill it, when the insect exclaimed to the man, 'What have I done that you should kill me?

I

have not devoured your corn; I have done you no sort of harm.

My only peculiarity is a loud voice, of which I make a very innocent use.'

Ah!

mighty monarch!

I resemble that grasshopper.

I only possess powers of speech, and I have not used them to injure you."

Crœsus, moved with admiration and pity, not only pardoned Æsop, but left the Samians alone on his account.

It was at this time that the Phrygian composed his fables, which he left with the King of Lydia, when he was sent by the latter to the Samians, who accorded him great honours.

He then took it into his head to travel about the world, and to hold high converse with those who were generally regarded as philosophers; and at length it happened that he obtained an exalted place in the esteem of Lycerus, King of Babylon.

[3] At this period kings were in the habit of sending to each other problems to solve, on condition that certain tributes should be paid, according as the questions were answered well or ill, on the one side or the other; and in this sort of game Lycerus, by the assistance of Æsop, rendered himself especially illustrious, whether as proposer or answerer.

In the course of time Æsop married, and as no children came to him he adopted a young man of noble extraction, named Ennus.

The latter rewarded this kindness by ingratitude, and was, indeed, so base as to sully his master's bed.

This having come to the knowledge of Æsop, he drove the rascal from his house, and the latter, in order to be revenged upon him, forged letters by which it was made to appear that Æsop was in the pay of kings who were at enmity with Lycerus.

Lycerus, deceived by the apparent genuineness of the seals and signatures appended to those letters, ordered one of his officers, named Hermippus, without seeking any further proofs of the Phrygian's treachery, to put Æsop to death.

This Hermippus, however, being a friend of Æsop's, saved his life, and secretly fed him for some time in a sepulchre, until Necténabo, King of Egypt, believing in the report of Æsop's death, thought that he should now be able to compel Lycerus to become his tributary.

He commenced provoking him by defying him to send him a man who could build a tower in the air, and who could answer all sorts of questions.

Lycerus, having read these letters, and having submitted them to the most able men of his kingdom, found that none of them were prepared to give satisfactory answers, and deeply regretted Æsop.

Upon this Hermippus confessed his disobedience of orders, and produced Æsop, who was very well received, and, having proved his innocence of the charge against him, was most graciously pardoned.

As for the letter from the King of Egypt, he only laughed at it, and directed Lycerus to reply that he would send the required architects in the spring, and also one who could answer all sorts of questions.

Lycerus replaced Æsop in possession of all his property, and at the same time delivered up Ennus to him, to deal with him as he pleased.

Æsop received the latter as though he had been his own son, and only punished him by recommending him to honour the gods and his king; to make himself feared by his enemies; to render himself useful to others;

to treat his wife well, but at the same time never to trust her with his secrets; to speak little, and to avoid the company of babblers;

never to give way to misfortune; to have a care for the morrow, since it is better to enrich one's enemies by one's death than to be troublesome to one's friends whilst living; and, above all, never to be envious of the happiness or the good qualities of others, since that is but to inflict an injury on ourselves.

Ennus, touched by this advice, and by Æsop's goodness towards him, died soon afterwards, as though he had been stabbed to the heart.

To return to Necténabo's challenge.

Æsop procured some eagles, and taught them (a difficult thing to do, but he did it) to carry each of them a basket in which was a child, and when the spring-time had come, he set off with them, to the great wonder of all the people whom he met who had heard of his design.

Necténabo, who had only sent his puzzle because he had heard of Æsop's death, was greatly surprised as well as greatly disgusted at seeing him.

He asked Æsop, however, whether he had brought the architects and the man who could answer all sorts of questions.

To which Æsop replied, that the latter was himself, and that the architects should be produced at the proper place.

They proceeded to the open country, where the eagles soared up aloft with the children, who cried out to those below to hand them up stones, mortar, &amp;c. "You see," said Æsop to Necténabo, "that I have brought you the workmen; it is for you to supply them with the materials."

Necténabo acknowledged that in this Lycerus was the conqueror.

He proposed, however, this question to Æsop: "I have mares in Egypt which reply to the neighings of the horses about Babylon.

What may that mean?"

The Phrygian deferred his answer, and returning to his lodging, bade some children take a cat and whip it along the streets.

The Egyptians, who worship this animal, regarded this as an extremely scandalous proceeding, and snatching the creature from the children's hands, went to complain to the king.

The Phrygian was at once ordered to the presence, and the king said to him, "Do you not know that this animal is one of our gods?

Why, then, have you had it treated in this way?"

"For an offence which he has committed against Lycerus," replied Æsop;

"for the other night it strangled an extremely courageous cock which crowed at every hour."

"You are a liar," replied the monarch; "how could the cat have made so long a journey in so short a time?"

"Just as possible," rejoined Æsop, "as that your mares should hear our stallions neigh at so great a distance."

After this the king had certain ingenious persons brought from Heliopolis, and gave them a great banquet, to which the Phrygian was invited.

During the repast they proposed to Æsop various enigmas, and this amongst others: "There is a vast temple supported on a column, which is surrounded by twelve cities, each of which has thirty buttresses, and around these buttresses walk, one after the other, two women, the one white, the other black."

"Such a question as that," said Æsop, "is only fit for little children.

The temple is the world; the column is the year; the cities are the months; the buttresses are the days; around which move, after each other, the day and night."

On the following day Necténabo assembled all his friends, and said to them, "Is it to be borne that such a pigmy of a man, such an abortion, should enable Lycerus to gain the prize and vanquish me?"

One of them then advised him to request Æsop to ask them questions about things of which they had never heard.

On this Æsop wrote out a memorandum, according to which Necténabo acknowledged that he owed Lycerus two thousand talents.

The memorandum was placed sealed in Necténabo's hands; and before it was opened Necténabo's friends declared that the thing which he held in his hands was well known to them.

When it was opened, Necténabo exclaimed, "Behold the greatest falsehood that was ever concocted!

I take you all to witness!"

"Certainly," they replied;

"we have never heard of such a thing."

"Therefore," said Æsop, "I have satisfied your demand."

Upon this Necténabo dismissed Æsop, burdened with presents both for himself and his master.

This residence of Æsop in Egypt may, perhaps, have been the origin of the story that he was a slave there with Rhodope, who, by the aid of the presents made her by her lovers, erected one of the three Pyramids which still exist, and are regarded with such admiration.

The legend refers to the smallest of the three, but the one built with the most skill.

Æsop, on his return to Babylon, was received by Lycerus with great demonstrations of joy and good-will, and had a statue erected to him.

His desire, however, to see the world and acquire knowledge, induced him to renounce all honours.

He accordingly quitted the court of Lycerus, where he enjoyed everything that could be wished, and took leave of this prince, for the purpose of visiting Greece.

Lycerus did not allow him to leave without bestowing upon him the greatest marks of affection, nor without making him swear that he would return to end his days with him.

Amongst the cities which he visited, Delphi was one of the principal.

The Delphians were very willing to listen to him, but they paid him no honours, and Æsop, piqued by this lack of respect, compared them to sticks which float on the water, which at some distance off seem to be something important, but when close at hand are discovered to be worthless.

This comparison, however, cost him dear, for the Delphians conceived such a dislike to him, and such a vehement desire of being avenged on him (as well as being impressed by a fear that he would defame them), that they resolved to compass his death.

To attain this end, they concealed amongst his goods one of their sacred vessels, intending to accuse him of theft and sacrilege, and then to condemn him to death.

As Æsop was setting out from Delphi, and journeying towards Phocis, the Delphians ran after him with every appearance of great wrath, and accused him of having stolen their sacred vessel.

Æsop denied the theft with solemn oaths, but when his baggage was searched it was found amongst it; therefore, all that Æsop could say did not prevent them from treating him as an infamous criminal.

He was conveyed back to Delphi, loaded with irons, cast into a dungeon, and condemned to be thrown headlong from a rock.

It was in vain that, attempting to defend himself with his ordinary weapons, he recited fables.

The Delphians only laughed at them.

"The frog," he said, "had invited the rat to come to see her.

In order to enable him to pass across the pond, she tied him to her foot.

As soon as he was fairly on the water she tried to drag him to the bottom, in order to drown him, and then make a meal of him.

The unfortunate rat resisted for some little time; and whilst he was struggling on the surface, a bird of prey perceived him, pounced on him, and having carried him off, together with the frog, who could not extricate herself, made a meal of both.

And thus, O Delphians, one more powerful than either of us will avenge me.

I shall perish; but you will perish also."

As Æsop was being led to his place of punishment, he found means to escape, and entered a little chapel dedicated to Apollo, from which, however, the Delphians tore him.

"You violate this asylum," he said to them, "because it is only a little chapel; but a day will come when your wickedness will find no hiding-place--no, not even in your great temple.

The same thing will happen to you that happened to the eagle, which, in spite of the prayers of the beetle, carried off the leveret, which had taken refuge with the insect.

The eagle's offspring was punished for this, even when it had sought shelter in Jupiter's bosom."

The Delphians, however, little moved by these remarks, cast Æsop headlong from the rock.

Soon after Æsop's death a pestilence spread havoc throughout the Delphian land.

The inhabitants asked of the oracle by what means they might appease the wrath of the gods; the oracle replied, that the only means by which they could do this was by expiating their crime and laying Æsop's ghost.

On this a pyramid was immediately erected to his memory.

But it was not Heaven alone that testified its displeasure at Æsop's murder; man also avenged the sage's death.

Greece instantly sent a commission to inquire into the circumstances, and inflicted a severe punishment on the criminals.

[4] [1] The chronology of our worthy La Fontaine is here at fault, for between the times of Æsop and Planudes there was an interval of nearly twenty centuries; Æsop having flourished in the sixth century before Christ, and Planudes having lived in the fourteenth century of the Christian era.

[2] This life of Æsop, composed by a monk of the fourteenth century, is a legend which has replaced history by disfiguring it.

If we confine ourselves exclusively to the testimonies of the ancients, we shall be able to tell in a few words all that has come down to us that is at all likely to be true respecting the life of Æsop.

Although various authors have attributed his birth-place in turn to Mesembria in Thrace, to Samos, and to Sardis in Lydia, it is almost certain that he was born in Phrygia, either at Amorium, or in another city of the same province named Cotisium.

The deformity which has been attributed to him is simply an exaggeration of a certain ugliness of countenance; and as he also stammered, he has been declared to have been almost dumb.

The first portion of his life was passed in slavery, at first under the Lydian philosopher Xantus, and then under Iadmo at Samos, where he had for a companion the celebrated courtesan, Rhodope.

Having been freed by Iadmo, he went to the court of Crœsus, where he enjoyed great favour.

Employed by this prince to convey his presents to the temple at Delphi, and certain liberalities to the inhabitants, the perfidy and resentment of the people, whom he had not deemed worthy of his master's gifts, were the cause of his death.

He was accused of having stolen a sacred vase which had been treacherously concealed amongst his goods.

Both gods and men avenged his death.

His journeys to Babylon and in Egypt are pure inventions.

If we may believe Plutarch, he was present at the banquet of the Seven Wise Men at Corinth.

The contradictory accounts given by authors as to the place of his birth may be explained by his many journeys; for he has been said to have been born wherever he resided.

It will be seen by this brief sketch, that the life of Æsop by Planudes is not a pure invention, and that we may say with respect to it-- "However great the lie may he.

Therein some grains of truth we see."

[3] In the lists of the Kings of Babylon there is found no monarch of this name, and this is another proof amongst many that the life of Æsop by Planudes is a fiction.

[4] The Athenians erected a statue to Æsop, which was the work of the celebrated Lysippus, and it was placed opposite those of the Seven Wise Men.

DEDICATION

TO

MONSEIGNEUR THE DAUPHIN[1]

MONSEIGNEUR,

If there be anything ingenious in the republic of letters, it may be said that it is the manner in which Æsop has deduced his moral.

It were truly to be wished that other hands than mine had added to the fable the ornaments of poetry, since the wisest of the ancients[2] has decided that they are not useless.

I venture, Monseigneur, to submit to you certain attempts in this manner, as being not altogether unsuited to your earlier years.

You are of an age[3] at which amusements and sports are allowed to princes; but at the same time you should devote some portion of your attention to serious reflections.

This is precisely what we meet with in the fables which we owe to Æsop.

At first sight they appear puerile; but their puerility is only the covering of important truths.

I do not doubt, Monseigneur, that you entertain a favourable opinion of compositions which are at once so useful and so agreeable; for what more can one desire than the useful and the agreeable?

It is these that have been the means of introducing knowledge amongst men.

Æsop has discovered the singular art of joining the one to the other.

The perusal of his works invariably plants in the soul the seeds of virtue, and teaches it to know itself, without letting it feel that it is pursuing a study, whilst, in fact, it even believes that it is otherwise engaged.

It is a means of instruction which has been happily made use of by him whom His Majesty has selected as your tutor.

[4] He teaches you all that a prince should learn in such a manner that you study not only without trouble, but even with pleasure.

We hope much from this; but, to tell the truth, there are things from which we hope infinitely more, and those, Monseigneur, are the qualities which our invincible monarch has bestowed upon you by the mere circumstance of your birth, and the example which he gives you day by day.

When you see him forming such grand designs; when you see him calmly regarding the agitation of Europe and the efforts which it makes to divert him from his enterprises;[5] when you see him penetrating by a single effort the heart of one province[6] bristling against him with insurmountable obstacles, and subjugating another[7] within eight days, during that season which is the most hostile of all others to the operations of war, and when the courts of other princes are redolent only of peace and pleasure; when you see him not content with merely subduing men, but resolved also to vanquish the elements; and when, I say, on his return from this expedition, in which he has conquered like another Alexander, you see him ruling his people like another Augustus,--admit, Monseigneur, that, in spite of the tenderness of your years, you sigh for glory as ardently as your father, and that you await with impatience the moment when you will be able to declare yourself his rival in your worship of this divine mistress.

But, no; you do not await it, Monseigneur; you anticipate it; and in proof of this I need no other witnesses than that noble restlessness, that vivacity, that ardour, those many evidences of spirit, of courage, of greatness of soul, which you so continually display.

It must, doubtless, be the greatest gratification to our monarch, as it is a most agreeable spectacle to the universe, to see you thus growing up, a young plant which will one day protect with its shadow peoples and nations.

I might enlarge upon this subject.

But as the plan I have proposed to myself of amusing you is more suited to my powers than that of praising you, I shall hasten to have recourse to my fables, and will add to the truths I have told you but this--and that is, Monseigneur, that I am, with respectful zeal, your very humble, very obedient, and very faithful servant,