Chapter 3

PREFACE

The Tale, the Parable, and the Fable are all common and popular modes
of conveying instruction. Each is distinguished by its own special
characteristics. The Tale consists simply in the narration of a story
either founded on facts, or created solely by the imagination, and not
necessarily associated with the teaching of any moral lesson. The
Parable is the designed use of language purposely intended to convey a
hidden and secret meaning other than that contained in the words
themselves; and which may or may not bear a special reference to the
hearer, or reader. The Fable partly agrees with, and partly differs
from both of these. It will contain, like the Tale, a short but real
narrative; it will seek, like the Parable, to convey a hidden meaning,
and that not so much by the use of language, as by the skilful
introduction of fictitious characters; and yet, unlike to either Tale
or Parable, it will ever keep in view, as its high prerogative, and
inseparable attribute, the great purpose of instruction, and will
necessarily seek to inculcate some moral maxim, social duty, or
political truth. The true Fable, if it rise to its high requirements,
ever aims at one great end and purpose—the representation of human
motive, and the improvement of human conduct, and yet it so conceals
its design under the disguise of fictitious characters, by clothing
with speech the animals of the field, the birds of the air, the trees
of the wood, or the beasts of the forest, that the reader shall receive
advice without perceiving the presence of the adviser. Thus the
superiority of the counsellor, which often renders counsel unpalatable,
is kept out of view, and the lesson comes with the greater acceptance
when the reader is led, unconsciously to himself, to have his
sympathies enlisted in behalf of what is pure, honourable, and
praiseworthy, and to have his indignation excited against what is low,
ignoble, and unworthy. The true fabulist, therefore, discharges a most
important function. He is neither a narrator, nor an allegorist. He is
a great teacher, a corrector of morals, a censor of vice, and a
commender of virtue. In this consists the superiority of the Fable over
the Tale or the Parable. The fabulist is to create a laugh, but yet,
under a merry guise, to convey instruction. Phædrus, the great imitator
of Æsop, plainly indicates this double purpose to be the true office of
the writer of fables.

Duplex libelli dos est: quod risum movet,
Et quod prudenti vitam consilio monet.

The continual observance of this twofold aim creates the charm, and
accounts for the universal favour, of the fables of Æsop. “The fable,”
says Professor K. O. Mueller, “originated in Greece in an intentional
travestie of human affairs. The ‘ainos,’ as its name denotes, is an
admonition, or rather a reproof, veiled, either from fear of an excess
of frankness, or from a love of fun and jest, beneath the fiction of an
occurrence happening among beasts; and wherever we have any ancient and
authentic account of the Æsopian fables, we find it to be the same.”[1]

The construction of a fable involves a minute attention to (1), the
narration itself; (2), the deduction of the moral; and (3), a careful
maintenance of the individual characteristics of the fictitious
personages introduced into it. The narration should relate to one
simple action, consistent with itself, and neither be overladen with a
multiplicity of details, nor distracted by a variety of circumstances.
The moral or lesson should be so plain, and so intimately interwoven
with, and so necessarily dependent on, the narration, that every reader
should be compelled to give to it the same undeniable interpretation.
The introduction of the animals or fictitious characters should be
marked with an unexceptionable care and attention to their natural
attributes, and to the qualities attributed to them by universal
popular consent. The Fox should be always cunning, the Hare timid, the
Lion bold, the Wolf cruel, the Bull strong, the Horse proud, and the
Ass patient. Many of these fables are characterized by the strictest
observance of these rules. They are occupied with one short narrative,
from which the moral naturally flows, and with which it is intimately
associated. “’Tis the simple manner,” says Dodsley,[2] “in which the
morals of Æsop are interwoven with his fables that distinguishes him,
and gives him the preference over all other mythologists. His ‘Mountain
delivered of a Mouse,’ produces the moral of his fable in ridicule of
pompous pretenders; and his Crow, when she drops her cheese, lets fall,
as it were by accident, the strongest admonition against the power of
flattery. There is no need of a separate sentence to explain it; no
possibility of impressing it deeper, by that load we too often see of
accumulated reflections.”[3] An equal amount of praise is due for the
consistency with which the characters of the animals, fictitiously
introduced, are marked. While they are made to depict the motives and
passions of men, they retain, in an eminent degree, their own special
features of craft or counsel, of cowardice or courage, of generosity or
rapacity.