NOTE: The performer is named ‘Prince’ (Latin princeps), which was an honorific title bestowed on the Caesars. The name Bathyllus suggests that this anecdote belongs to the time of Caesar Augustus (d. 14 CE), as Bathyllus was a favourite performer of Augustus’ good friend Maecenas. The ‘people in the front row seats’ are the members of Rome’s equestrian order of citizenry, who had seats set aside for their use in the theatre. The reference to ‘B-flat’ replaces an untranslatable play on words in the Latin: the musician breaks his left ‘tibia’, a word which can also refer to one of the pipes in a pan-pipe.
Fable 592 (Phaedrus 5.5 = Perry 527)
The Clown, the Farmer, and the Pig
In their groundless favouritism, people often make mistakes; they stand behind a judgement made in error until the actual fact of the matter later compels them to regret their choice.
There was a certain wealthy man, a prominent citizen, who was about to sponsor a public entertainment. He invited anyone who had some novelty to perform, promising to pay them a fee. Professional performers came to compete for public acclaim, and among them was a clown who was well known for his sophisticated sense of humour. He said that he had a type of spectacle that had never been performed in any theatre before. The rumour spread throughout the city, sparking the public’s interest. Theatre seats that had recently been left empty were now not enough for the gathering crowd. After the clown came out by himself on the stage, with no equipment and no assistants, a hush of anticipation silenced the spectators. Then the clown suddenly lowered his head towards his chest and imitated the sound of a little pig. The sound was so true to life that the audience maintained that there must be a real little pig concealed under his cloak and they demanded that it be shaken out. But when the cloak was shaken out, it proved to be empty, so they lavished the clown with praise and he left the stage to resounding applause. A country bumpkin saw what had happened and said, ‘By gosh, I can do better than that!’ He immediately promised that he would do the same thing, only better, the following day. The crowd grew still larger and favouritism had already swayed their perception; you could tell that they had not come to watch the performance so much as to make fun of it. The two men came out onto the stage. The clown squealed as he had done the day before, provoking the audience’s applause and shouts of approval. Now it was the turn of the country bumpkin, who pretended to conceal a little pig beneath his clothes—and this time there really was a hidden pig, although of course the audience had not found anything under the clown’s cloak at the previous performance. The man then pulled the ear of the real pig that was hidden in his clothes, producing an authentic squeal of pain. The audience shouted that the clown had given a far more realistic performance and they were prepared to drive the country bumpkin off the stage. But he then pulled the actual pig from inside his cloak and showed it to the audience, denouncing their gross error with incontrovertible evidence. ‘Here you go!’ he said. ‘This little pig proves what kind of judges you are!’
NOTE: This story is best known as ‘Parmeno’s pig’ (e.g. Plutarch, Symposiastic Questions 5.1).
Fable 593 (Phaedrus 2.5 = Perry 489)
Tiberius Caesar and His Attendant
There is a whole population of busybodies at Rome running all over the place excitedly, occupied without any true occupation, huffing and puffing at frivolous pursuits, and making much out of nothing. They are an annoyance to each other and utterly despised by everyone else. Yet I would like to try to correct this crowd, if possible, by means of a true story: it is one worth listening to.
Tiberius Caesar was on his way to Naples, and had arrived at his estate in Misenum which had been built by Lucullus on a high hill overlooking the Sicilian sea on one side and the Tuscan sea on the other. When Caesar was walking about in the cheerful greenery, one of his household stewards turned up, dressed in a fancy-fringed tunic of Egyptian cotton hanging down from his shoulders. The man began to sprinkle the sizzling hot ground with water from a wooden basin, making a great show of his diligence as Caesar’s attendant, but everyone just laughed at him. The man then ran ahead to the next walkway, using some shortcuts known only to himself, and he started settling the dust in that spot as well. When Caesar recognized the man and realized what he was doing, he said, ‘Hey you!’ The man scampered up to Caesar, excited at the joyful prospect of what seemed a sure reward. Then Caesar’s majestic person made the following joke: ‘You have not accomplished much and your efforts have come to naught; if you want me to give you the slap that makes you a freedman, it will cost you much more than that!’
NOTE: Lucullus was a prominent Roman of the first century BCE, notorious for his luxurious way of life. Tiberius Caesar, successor to Augustus, reigned from 14 CE until his death in 37 CE. The alapa was a ritual slap which formed part of the legal procedure for a slave’s manumission in Rome.
Fable 594 (Phaedrus 3.10 = Perry 501)
Augustus and the Murder
It is dangerous to believe a story, and dangerous not to believe it. I will quickly offer an example of each: Hippolytus died because the people believed his stepmother, but when the people did not believe Cassandra, it spelled the end of Troy. For this reason, the truth must be carefully considered before an incorrect opinion results in a foolish judgement. So that you won’t be tempted to make light of antiquity and its mythical tales, I will also tell you a story which happened in my own lifetime.
There was a certain married man who loved his wife very much and whose son was almost old enough to assume the white toga of manhood. However, one of the man’s freedmen was hoping to be appointed as the man’s immediate heir, so he called the man aside and lied at great length about the man’s son and even more about the bad behaviour of his faithful wife. Finally, he added something that he realized would cause the greatest possible pain to a loving husband: the man’s wife was being visited, said the freedman, by an adulterer, thus defiling the reputation of the house with acts of moral turpitude. The man was outraged at the thought of his wife’s supposed crimes, so he pretended to make a trip to the countryside, while secretly hiding in town. Then all of a sudden he came home in the night and headed straight for his wife’s bedroom. His wife, meanwhile, had ordered their son to sleep in her bed so that she could keep a close eye on him now that he had grown older. While the servants ran here and there looking for a light, the man was no longer able to hold back his explosive outburst of anger. He approached the bed and felt a head there in the dark. When he detected a man’s haircut, he plunged his sword through the man’s chest, thinking of nothing but avenging his grief. When the lantern was brought, he saw both his son and his noble wife sleeping there next to him. Deep in sleep, his wife was not even aware of what had happened. The man then punished himself in full for the crime he had committed by falling upon the sword he had drawn in his own readiness to believe the worst. Informers pressed charges against the woman and she was taken away to Rome to be tried in court. Although guilty of no crime, she was subjected to jealous suspicions over the way she had come into possession of the family’s property. Her advocates stood by her, stoutly defending the claims of this innocent woman. The judges then asked the divine Augustus to help them faithfully carry out their sworn duty, since the complexity of the crime had them baffled. Augustus first dispelled the darkness of the unfair charges laid against the woman and then revealed the true explanation of what had happened, as he pronounced the following sentence: ‘Let the freedman who was the cause of this wickedness be punished! Meanwhile, I decree that the woman who has both lost her son and been deprived of her husband should receive our pity rather than our condemnation. If the father had fully investigated the alleged crimes and carefully sifted through the lies, he would not have brought utter ruin upon his house with this appalling crime.’
You cannot ignore everything you hear, but you should not believe it immediately, since those whom you least suspect can turn out to be scoundrels while entirely innocent people can fall victim to treachery. This
example may also serve as a warning to simple-minded people not to draw conclusions from hearsay. Human ambition is multifarious, sometimes taking the form you expect, and sometimes not; the man you know personally is the man you really know. (I have explored this matter at greater length because in other cases some people have been annoyed by my excessive brevity.)
NOTE: Hippolytus was falsely accused of rape by his stepmother Phaedra, and Theseus pronounced a fatal curse on his son. Cassandra, the daughter of King Priam of Troy, had received the gift of prophecy but at a terrible cost: although she spoke the truth, no one believed her.
PUNS AND WORD-PLAY
Fable 595 (Phaedrus 3.11 = Perry 502)
The Eunuch and His Accuser
A eunuch was involved in a legal dispute with an extremely unpleasant person who made rude and cutting remarks, and even insulted the eunuch for the loss he had suffered in his bodily parts. The eunuch responded: ‘I admit that this is the one thing that puts me in considerable difficulty: I don’t have testimony, so to speak, in support of my good character. But you are a fool to denounce me for something that is merely a matter of fate!’
The only thing that can really bring shame on a man is a punishment that he has justly deserved.
NOTE: The Latin depends on a very explicit pun between testes meaning ‘witnesses’ (the same root as in the English word ‘testify’) and testes meaning testicles.
Fable 596 (Chambry 192 = Perry 333)
The Hare and the Fox
The hare said to the fox, ‘They say you are very artful, fox. What art is it that you practise exactly?’ The fox replied, ‘If you don’t know my arts, I will have you to dinner so that you can get a taste of my art.’ The hare followed the fox to her den but the fox had nothing there to eat except for the hare himself. The hare exclaimed, ‘I have learned to my cost that your name does not derive from any kind of artistry but from fraud!’
The fable shows that overly curious people often pay a very high price for recklessly indulging their curiosity.
NOTE: The Greek fable relies on word-play involving a nickname for the fox, kerdo, which is related to trickery and profit-making.
Fable 597 (Romulus 4.20 = Perry 579)
The Man and the Sword
A wicked man comes to ruin himself while bringing ruin to many others as well; listen to the following fable, for example.
A traveller was walking along and found a sword lying in the road. He said to the sword, ‘Who lost you?’ The weapon replied, ‘One man has lost me, but I have caused the loss of many a man!’
This fable tells us that a bad man can come to ruin, but he is able to harm many other people first.
Fable 598 (Syntipas 33 = Perry 254)
The Butcher and the Dog
A dog went into a butcher’s shop and stole the heart of some animal. The butcher turned around and said to him, ‘You haven’t stolen my heart; indeed, I have taken heart from this lesson! So if you ever come back in here again, I will give you the reward you deserve for this act of robbery!’
This fable shows that someone can be induced by experience to learn his lesson and be on his guard.
NOTE: In Greek, the ‘heart’ was considered a seat of intelligence (something like our ‘brains’), whereas we commonly associate the heart with feelings and emotions. Instead of losing heart (= losing his wits), the butcher has taken heart (= wised up).
Fable 599 (Avianus 30 = Perry 583)
The Farmer and the Pig
When a pig kept destroying a farmer’s crops and trampling his fertile fields, the farmer cut off the pig’s ear. He then let the pig go, expecting that the pig would remember what had happened to him, since he carried with him a reminder of the need to treat the farmer’s crops with due respect in the future. Nevertheless, the pig was caught once again in the act of digging ruts in the ground and the treacherous animal was thus deprived of his other ear, the only one that he had left. But as soon as he was let loose again, the pig plunged his deformed head into the aforementioned crops. His multiple offences had made him a marked pig, so the farmer caught him and consigned him to his master’s sumptuous table. The farmer sliced and served the various parts of the pig at dinner but when there was no more left, the master asked what had happened to the pig’s brains. The fact was that the greedy cook had stolen them, so the farmer calmed his master’s understandable outrage by saying that the foolish pig didn’t have any brains to begin with. ‘Why else would that pig have kept risking life and limb,’ said the farmer, ‘and let himself be caught over and over again by the same opponent?’
This illustrative story is a warning for people who take too many risks and who can never keep their hands out of mischief.
NOTE: In the Greek, the cook actually steals the pig’s heart, not his brains (see the note to the preceding fable).
Fable 600 (Babrius 95 = Perry 336)
The Lion, the Fox, and the Deer
There was a lion who had fallen ill and was lying in a stony ravine, his sluggish limbs stretched out upon the ground. A friendly fox kept him company, and one day the lion said to her, ‘I suppose you want me to survive, so listen: I’ve got a craving for the deer who lives in that dense thicket of pines there in the wilds of the forest. At the moment I no longer have the strength to go hunting after deer myself, but if you would agree to lay a trap with that honeyed speech of yours, the deer could be within my grasp.’ The sly fox went off and found the deer in the wild woodlands, gambolling in a meadow of tender grass. The fox prostrated herself before the deer and greeted her, saying that she had come to relay some auspicious information. ‘As you know,’ the fox said, ‘the lion is my neighbour, but he is very sick and about to die, so he has been thinking about who will be king of the beasts after he is gone. The boar is an idiot, the bear is lazy, the leopard is impulsive, the tiger is a loner who keeps to himself … but he thinks that the deer would make a most worthy ruler, since she has an impressive appearance and lives a long time. And the antlers of the deer can scare away all kinds of snakes, why, the antlers of the deer are like trees, not at all like the horns of a bull! Need I say more? You have been duly elected: you will rule over the beasts of the hills. When that finally happens, O Mistress, remember that it was the fox who was the first to inform you. That is why I came here, and now goodbye, my dear. I need to hurry back to the lion so that he won’t be looking for me again; he relies on my advice in absolutely everything. And I think it would be good if you also obeyed that venerable old head. You need to come to his bedside and comfort him in his trouble. Even little things can sway the thoughts of those who are in the last hours of life; the souls of the dying can be seen in their eyes.’ This is what the sly fox said to the deer, and the deer’s heart swelled at the sound of those deceitful words. She came to the hollow cave of the beast, with no idea of what lay in store for her. The lion recklessly sprang up from his bed and launched a hasty attack, but he only managed to slash the deer’s ears with his pointed claws as the wretched creature ran straight out of the door and disappeared into the depths of the woods. The fox wrung her hands in frustration, since her efforts had proved utterly futile. As for the lion, he groaned and chewed at thin air, equally beset by both hunger and despair. Once again he summoned the fox and asked her to find yet another trick to use to catch the deer. The fox plumbed the very depths of her cunning and then said, ‘This is a difficult task indeed. But nevertheless I will carry out your command!’ The fox then set off after the deer, keen as a hound on the trail, devising elaborate traps and all kinds of mischief. Whenever she ran into a shepherd, the fox would ask if he had happened to see a bleeding deer on the run. And when the shepherd had indeed caught a glimpse of the deer, he would point the fox in the right direction. She finally found the deer concealed in the shade, where she had stopped to catch her breath. The fox stood and stared at the deer, eyebrows raised, the very incarnation of shamelessness. A shiver ran down the deer’s spine and her legs quivered as she angrily said to the fox, ‘Oh yo
u abominable creature! If you dare to come near me or utter so much as a single word, you will live to regret it! Go find some other simpletons that you can outfox; pick someone else to be king and put him on the throne!’ But the fox was undaunted and said to the deer, ‘Can you really be so mean-spirited? So overcome by fear? So suspicious of your friends? The lion only wanted what was good for you! In an attempt to rouse you from your former idleness, he tugged at your ear, as a father might do on his deathbed. He wanted to bestow on you every precept you would need in order to take charge of such a kingdom, but you could not even withstand the touch of his feeble hand! Instead, you violently turned aside, inflicting a serious wound on yourself. As for the lion, at this moment he is even more upset than you are. Now that he has found you to be so untrustworthy and scatter-brained, he says that the wolf will be appointed king. Alas alack, what a wicked master he will be! What shall I do then? You are the one who has brought these evils upon all of us. But come, you must be more brave in the future and not let yourself be as easily frightened as some sheep from the flock. I swear these things to you by all the leaves on the trees and by every spring of water: I want to serve you and only you! There is nothing hostile about the lion’s behaviour; his heartfelt wish is to make you queen of all the animals!’ With these coaxing words, the fox persuaded the tawny deer to enter once again into that very abode of death. As soon as the lion had the deer trapped in the depths of his den, he enjoyed a full-course meal, greedily devouring the flesh of the deer, drinking the marrow from her bones, and feasting on her entrails. The fox, meanwhile, stood there waiting; after having delivered the deer, she was craving a share in the spoils. She stealthily grabbed the brains of the deer which had fallen to the ground and gobbled them up: this, then, was the booty which that sly-boots got for her work. The lion, meanwhile, had made an inventory of all the deer’s parts, and the brains were nowhere to be found. He searched around his couch and all over the house. Then the fox confounded the truth of the matter and said, ‘That deer had no brains, so don’t waste your time looking for them. What kind of brains do you expect from a creature who would come not once but twice into the den of a lion?’
Aesop's Fables Page 35
