The Complete Fables Page 10

  NOTE: Once again, this fable cannot be of Greek origin, since Greek camels, if they existed, would never do anything so improper.

  145

  The Camel, the Elephant and the Ape

  The animals were consulting together on the choice of a king. The camel and the elephant admired themselves in the ranks of animals and argued over their vote, hoping to be chosen from among the others thanks to their great stature and their strength. But the ape declared that neither of them was suitable to reign: ‘The camel,’ he said, ‘because he never shows anger against wrongdoers, and the elephant because he runs away from piglets – a creature of which he is terrified – so he could never defend his subjects from them.’

  This fable shows that sometimes it is only a small thing that bars the path to a great position.

  NOTE: As so often happens in the fables, this one concerns animals, none of which, except pigs, existed in Greece.

  146

  The Camel and Zeus

  The camel, seeing the bull have the advantage of horns, was envious of him and wanted to acquire some too. He went to find Zeus and begged him to furnish him with some horns. But Zeus, angry that he was not content already with his great size and with his strength, and wanted yet more, not only refused to add some horns but proceeded to cut off a portion of his ears.

  So it is that many people, through greed, look upon others with envy, not realizing that they are losing their own advantages.

  147

  The Dancing Camel

  A camel, who was forced to dance by his master, said:

  ‘It is not only when I dance that I lack grace; I even lack it when I walk.’

  This fable could apply to all acts bereft of grace.

  148

  The Camel Seen for the First Time

  When they first set eyes on a camel, men were afraid. Awed by its huge size, they ran away. But when, in time, they realized its gentleness, they plucked up enough courage to approach it. Then, gradually realizing that it had no temper, they went up to it and grew to hold it in such contempt that they put a bridle on it and gave it to the children to lead.

  This fable shows that habit can overcome the fear which awesome things inspire.

  149

  The Two Scarab Beetles

  A bull grazed on a little island and two scarab beetles nourished themselves on his dung. As winter approached, one of them said to the other that he thought he would cross over to the mainland. He said he would chance it and go and spend the winter across the strait. If he found plenty of food there he would bring him some. He pointed out that there would be more for the other beetle to eat if he were alone.

  So the beetle flew across the water to the mainland where he came across many fresh dung droppings. He settled himself down on them and began to eat heartily. The winter passed and he flew back to the island. His friend, seeing him so fat and healthy, reminded him of his promise and reproached him for never coming back for him. But the selfish beetle replied:

  ‘Oh, don’t blame me. It’s simply the nature of the locality, you know. True, you can find enough to live on there, but you just can’t bring it back with you.’

  One could apply this fable to those who are superficial friends, entertaining in company but hopeless at being any help otherwise.

  150

  The Crab and the Fox

  A crab, having climbed up out of the sea on to the shore, was pursuing his solitary life. A starving fox spotted him and, as he had not a scrap of food to put between his teeth, he ran up and pounced on the crab to devour him. As he was about to be eaten, the crab cried out:

  ‘I deserve this fate! I, who lived in the sea, had the folly to imagine I could live on the land!’

  It is thus with men also: those who abandon their own occupations to mix themselves up in affairs which don’t concern them meet with misfortune as a natural consequence.

  151

  The Crab and Her Mother

  ‘Don’t walk sideways,’ said a mother crab to her child, ‘and don’t drag your sides against the wet rock.’

  ‘Mother,’ the young crab replied, ‘if you want to teach me, walk straight yourself. I will watch you and then I will copy you.’

  When one reproves others, it is just as well to live straight and walk straight oneself before starting to preach a lesson.

  152

  The Walnut Tree

  A walnut tree which grew on the edge of a path was constantly hit by a volley of stones. It said to itself with a sigh:

  ‘How unlucky I am that year after year I attract insults and suffering.’

  This fable is aimed at people who don’t withdraw from a source of annoyance for their own good.

  153

  The Beaver

  The beaver is a four-footed animal who lives in pools. A beaver’s genitals serve, it is said, to cure certain ailments. So when the beaver is spotted and pursued to be mutilated – since he knows why he is being hunted – he will run for a certain distance, and he will use the speed of his feet to remain intact. But when he sees himself about to be caught, he will bite off his own parts, throw them, and thus save his own life.

  Among men also, those are wise who, if attacked for their money, will sacrifice it rather than lose their lives.

  NOTE: It was believed in antiquity that the valued secretion castorea was obtained from the beaver’s scrotum, hence ‘biting off his own parts’ in the fable. We now know that the secretion is found in two separate sacs and not actually in the scrotum. The name of the beaver in Greek is castōr, the same as the twin-god, and also the same as one name given to the crocus, source of saffron. There is little doubt that a complex of mythological meanings is involved here. A cognate word is found in Sanskrit, kasturi(kā) or kastūri(kā), meaning both ‘musk deer’ and ‘musk’, and thus referring to the secretions of the musk deer rather than the beaver. Since these word forms are isolated in both Greek and Sanskrit, they are probably loan-words originating from a very early trade in aromatic animal secretions supplied by Indo-European tribes to the Middle East.

  The etymology of the words is probably from the Egyptian qas, or qes. That word means ‘efflux’ and, because it also means ‘vomit’, the Egyptians probably applied the same word to ambergris, which is whale vomit, and the substances castorea and musk. The word also means ‘to prepare a mummy for burial’, so we suspect that the uses of these substances were for mummification. The same Egyptian word means ‘fetters that bind’ (i.e. also mummy-wrappings), and the Greek god Castor was reputed to be the inventor of manacles, thus probably carrying over an Egyptian pun at an early date. An apparent cognate with the Egyptian is found in Akkadian, where kasitu means ‘being bound or fettered’, from kasu, ‘to bind’. Curiously, the Akkadian kāsistu, with the long initial vowel, refers to a rodent, from kasāsu, ‘to gnaw’ or ‘gnaw through’, which is, of course, so characteristic of the beaver.

  Aristotle, our chief Greek zoological authority, was uneasy about the word castōr as applied to the beaver. He actually speaks of the ‘so-called castōr’ (kabumenos castōr) in the History of Animals (594b31), and proceeds to call the beaver by the name which he clearly regarded as its true name, latax (487a22 and 59b32), and which he describes as cutting down the riverside aspens or poplars with its teeth. Aristotle seems to have suspected that castōr was a synonym for the beaver arising from some unusual source, which we can see was probably by association from the name for its aromatic secretion being applied to the animal itself.

  154

  The Gardener Watering the Vegetables

  A man passed a gardener who was watering his vegetables and he stopped to ask him why the wild vegetables were flourishing and vigorous while the cultivated ones were sickly and puny.

  The gardener replied: ‘It’s because the Earth is a mother to the one and a stepmother to the others.’

  Similarly, the children fed by a stepmother are not nourished like those who have their true mother.

  155

>   The Gardener and the Dog

  The gardener’s dog had fallen down a well. Wanting to save it, the gardener went down the well himself. But the dog, imagining that the gardener was going to push him down even further, turned around and bit him. The gardener, in pain from this wound, climbed out, saying:

  ‘It’s all the same to me. Why should I put myself out to save the beast when he wants to perish?’

  This fable is addressed to those who are ungrateful and unjust.

  156

  The Kithara-player

  A kithara-player, devoid of talent, sang from morning to night in a house with thickly plastered walls. As the walls echoed with his own sounds he imagined that he had a very beautiful voice. He so overestimated his own voice from then on that he decided to perform in a theatre. But he sang so badly on the stage that he was driven off it by people throwing stones.

  Thus, certain orators who, at school, seem to have some talent, reveal their incompetence as soon as they enter the political arena.

  157

  The Thrush

  A thrush was pecking berries in a myrtle grove and, infatuated by their sweetness, was unable to leave it. A fowler observed her satisfying herself there and caught her in a lime-trap. Then, as she was about to be killed, the thrush said:

  ‘Wretch that I am! For the pleasure of eating I deprive myself of life!’

  This fable is directed at the debauched who are lost in pleasure.

  158

  The Thieves and the Cock

  Some thieves who broke into a house found nothing there but a cockerel. They took it and went away. As he was about to be sacrificed by them, the cock begged them to release him, pleading that he was useful to men in rousing them by night for their work.

  ‘All the more reason to kill you,’ they said, ‘for by waking men up you prevent us from thieving.’

  This fable shows that the more you thwart the bad, you render service to the good.

  NOTE: The cockerel boasts of crowing nyktōr, an adverb meaning ‘by night’. He does not refer to dawn. This must mean that Greeks often rose well before daybreak.

  159

  The Stomach and the Feet

  The stomach and the feet were arguing over their strength. The feet constantly alleged that they were much superior in strength because they carried the stomach. To this the stomach replied:

  ‘But, my friends, if I don’t provide you with nourishment, you won’t be able to carry me.’

  Thus it is with armies: generally speaking, numbers count for nothing if the commanders are not sensible.

  160

  The Jackdaw and the Fox

  There was once a jackdaw suffering from hunger who sat for ages on the branch of a fig tree. He had seen that the figs were still green, so he decided to wait for them to ripen. A fox saw him sitting there endlessly and asked him the reason. Upon hearing why, the fox said:

  ‘You’ve got it all wrong, friend. You’re just living off hope. Hope feeds illusions but not the stomach.’

  This fable applies to the covetous.

  161

  The Jackdaw and the Ravens

  A jackdaw who grew larger in size than the other jackdaws disdained their company. So he took himself off to the ravens and asked if he could share his life with them. But the ravens, unfamiliar with his shape and his voice, mobbed him and chased him away. So, rejected by them, he went back to be with the jackdaws. But the jackdaws, outraged at his defection, refused to have him back. And thus he was an outcast from the society of both jackdaws and ravens.

  It is similar with people. Those who abandon their own country in preference for another are in low esteem there for being foreigners, but despised by their compatriots because they have scorned them.

  162

  The Jackdaw and the Birds

  Wishing to establish a King of the Birds, Zeus set a date for summoning them all before him for comparison: he would choose the most beautiful one to reign over them. The birds went off then to the shallow water near the shore of a river to wash. Now the jackdaw, realizing his ugliness, went around gathering up the feathers which fell from the other birds, which he then arranged and attached to his own body. Thus he became the most handsome of all.

  Then the big day arrived and all the birds presented themselves before Zeus. The jackdaw, with his motley adornment, was among them. And Zeus voted for him to be the royal bird on account of his beauty. But the other birds, outraged at this decision, each pulled out the feather that had come from him. The result was that the jackdaw was stripped and once again became just a jackdaw.

  Likewise with men who have debts: as long as they possess the wealth of other people, they seem to be somebody. But when they have paid their debts they find that they are once again their old selves.

  NOTE: This fable was doubtless suggested by the jackdaw’s actual habit of collecting colourful bits, including other birds’ feathers, for its nest.

  163

  The Jackdaw and the Pigeons

  A jackdaw, espying some well-fed pigeons in a pigeon-rearing aviary, whitened his plumage and joined them to share some of their food. So long as he stayed silent, the pigeons took him to be one of their own kind and approved of him as he mingled among them. But then, for a moment, he forgot himself and let out a cry. Upon hearing his unfamiliar voice the pigeons chased him away. So, having become familiar with how sumptuously the pigeons fared, he now had to return to the jackdaws. But the jackdaws didn’t recognize him any more because of his colour and they rejected him and wouldn’t allow him into their company either. So, having wanted the food of both, he now had neither.

  This fable shows that we ought to be content with our lot. It also tells us that not only does covetousness serve for nothing, but it often causes us to lose that which we already possess.

  NOTE: See Aristotle, History of Animals (593a 16). Peristeras, the word for the common pigeon, is there distinguished from four other related ornithological terms, such as woodpigeon.

  164

  The Jackdaw Who Escaped

  A man trapped a jackdaw and, attaching a flaxen thread to its foot, gave it to his child. But the jackdaw could not resign himself to living in captivity. He took advantage of an unguarded moment and flew off back to his nest. But the thread got caught up in the branches and the bird couldn’t fly away. On the point of death, he said:

  ‘How wretched is my lot! For, not being able to bear slavery to man, I was unaware that I was depriving myself of my life.’

  This fable could be addressed to men who, in wishing to defend themselves against moderate dangers, may be throwing themselves unawares into more deadly peril.

  165

  The Raven and the Fox

  A raven stole a piece of meat and flew up and perched on a branch with it. A fox saw him there and determined to get the meat for himself. So he sat at the base of the tree and said to the raven:

  ‘Of all the birds you are by far the most beautiful. You have such elegant proportions, are so stately and sleek. You were ideally made to be the king of all the birds. And if you only had a voice you would surely be the king.’

  The raven, wanting to demonstrate to him that there was nothing wrong with his voice, dropped the meat and uttered a great cry. The fox rushed forward, pounced on the meat, and said:

  ‘Oh, raven, if only you also had judgement, you would want for nothing to be the king of the birds.’

  This fable is a lesson to all fools.

  NOTE: Two versions of this fable occur in India. Both are preserved in the Buddhist collection of ‘Jātaka Tales’, many of which are pre-Buddhist. One version is number 294. In this version, a jackal persuades a crow to shake the branch of a fruit tree so that he can get some fruit. In the other version, number 295, the crow sees a jackal eating a carcass and devises flattery to try and get some meat from the jackal. Another Jātaka tale, number 215, describes a tortoise being carried through the air while he bites on a stick and by opening his mouth to speak, he falls
and is killed; this motif is somewhat similar to the Aesop fable of being undone by opening one’s mouth and letting go of something.

  166

  The Raven and Hermes

  A raven who was caught in a snare promised the god Apollo that if he could get free he would offer some frankincense to him. But when his wish was granted he forgot his vow.

  Later, caught in another snare, the raven abandoned Apollo to address his plea to the god Hermes, to whom he promised a sacrifice. But Hermes replied to him:

  ‘Oh, wretched raven, how can I trust you, who have disavowed your first master and cheated him?’

  When one shows ingratitude towards a benefactor, one can no longer count on help from others in times of need.

  167

  The Raven and the Snake

  A raven who was short of food espied a snake sleeping in the sun; he swooped down, seized it and flew away with it. But the snake twisted round and bit him, and the raven said as he was about to die:

  ‘How unlucky I was to find a windfall of such a kind that it would murder me!’

  One could say that this fable applies to the man who discovers a treasure that threatens his life.