SOURCE: Robert Dodsley, reprinted from "Select Fables of Esop and Other Fabulists," in An Essay on Fable, The Augustan Reprint Society, 1965, pp. lvii-lxxvii.

[In the following essay, published in a second imprint in 1764 and reprinted in 1965, Dodsley describes the characteristics of the fable including its ability to convey moral truth without an offensive air of moral superiority.]

Introduction

Whoever undertakes to compose a fable, whether of the sublimer and more complex kind, as the epick and dramatick; or of the lower and more simple, as what has been called the Esopean; should make it his principal intention to illustrate some one moral or prudential maxim. To this point the composition in all its parts must be directed; and this will lead him to describe some action proper to enforce the maxim he has chosen. In several respects therefore the greater fable and the less agree. It is the business of both to teach some particular moral, exemplified by an action, and this enlivened by natural incidents. Both alike must be supported by apposite and proper characters, and both be furnished with sentiments and language suitable to the character thus employed. I would by no means however infer, that, to produce one of these small pieces requires the same degree of genius, as to form an epick or dramatick Fable. All I would insinuate, is, that the apologue has a right to some share of our esteem, from the relation it bears to the poems before mentioned: as it is honourable to spring from a noble stem, although in ever so remote a branch. A perfect fable, even of this inferior kind, seems a much stronger proof of genius than the mere narrative of an event. The latter indeed requires judgment: the former, together with judgment, demands an effort of the imagination.

Having thus endeavoured to procure these little compositions as much regard as they may fairly claim, I proceed to treat of some particulars most essential to their character.

SECT I

Of the Truth or Moral of a Fable

'Tis the very essence of a Fable to convey some Moral or useful Truth, beneath the shadow of an allegory. It is this chiefly that distinguishes a Fable from a Tale; and indeed gives it the pre-eminence in point of use and dignity. A Tale may consist of an event either serious or comic; and, provided it be told agreeably, may be excellent in its kind, though it should imply no sort of Moral. But the action of a Fable is contrived on purpose to teach and to imprint some Truth; and should clearly and obviously include the illustration of it in the very catastrophe.

The Truth to be preferred on this occasion should neither be too obvious, nor trite, nor trivial. Such would ill deserve the pains employed in Fable to convey it. As little also should it be one that is very dubious, dark, or controverted. It should be of such a nature, as to challenge the assent of every ingenious and sober judgment; never a point of mere speculation; but tending to inform or remind the reader, of the proper means that lead to happiness, or at least, to the several duties, decorums, and proprieties of conduct, which each particular Fable endeavours to enforce.

The reason why Fable has been so much esteemed in all ages and in all countries; is perhaps owing to the polite manner in which its maxims are conveyed. The very article of giving instruction supposes at least, a superiority of wisdom in the adviser; a circumstance by no means favourable to the ready admission of advice. 'Tis the peculiar excellence of Fable to wave this air of superiority: it leavs the reader to collect the moral; who by thus discovering more than is shewn him, finds his principle of self-love gratified, instead of being disgusted. The attention is either taken off from the adviser; or, if otherwise, we are at least flattered by his humility and address.

Besides, instruction, as conveyed by Fable, does not only lay aside its lofty mien and supercilious aspect, but appears drest in all the smiles and graces which can strike the imagination, or engage the passions. It pleases in order to convince; and it imprints its moral so much the deeper, in proportion as it entertains; so that we may be said to feel our duties at the very instant we comprehend them.

I am very sensible with what difficulty a Fable is brought to a strict agreement with the foregoing account of it. This however ought to be the writer's aim. 'Tis the simple manner in which the Morals of Esop are interwoven with his Fables, that distinguishes him, and gives him the preference to 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. Indeed the Fable of the "Cock and the Precious Stone" is in this respect very exceptionable. The lesson it inculcates is so dark and ambiguous, that different expositors have given it quite opposite interpretations; some imputing the Cock's rejection of the Diamond to his wisdom, and others to his ignorance.

Strictly speaking then, one should render needless any detached or explicit moral. Esop, the father of this kind of writing, disclaimed any such assistance. 'Tis the province of Fable to give it birth in the mind of the person for whom it is intended: otherwise the precept is direct, which is contrary to the nature and end of allegory. However, in order to give all necessary assistance to young readers, an Index is added to this collection, containing the subject or moral of each Fable, to which the reader may occasionally apply.

After all, the greatest fault in any composition (for I can hardly allow that name to riddles) is obscurity. There can be no purpose answered by a work that is unintelligible. Annibal Caracci and Raphael himself, rather than risque so unpardonable a fault, have admitted verbal explanations into some of their best pictures. It must be confessed, that every story is not capable of telling its own Moral. In a case of this nature, and this only, it should be expressly introduced. Perhaps also, where the point is doubtful, we ought to shew enough for the less acute, even at the hazard of shewing too much for the more sagacious; who, for this very reason, that they are more sagacious, will pardon a superfluity which is such to them alone.

But, on these occasions, it has been matter of dispute, whether the moral is better introduced at the end or beginning of a Fable. Esop, as I said before, universally rejected any separate Moral. Those we now find at the close of his Fables, were placed there by other hands. Among the ancients, Praedrus; and Gay, among the moderns, inserted theirs at the beginning: La Motte prefers them at the conclusion; and Fontaine disposes of them indiscriminately, at the beginning or end, as he sees convenient. If, amidst the authority of such great names, I might venture to mention my own opinion, I should rather prefix them as an introduction, than add them as an appendage. For I would neither pay my reader nor myself so bad a compliment, as to suppose, after he had read the Fable, that he was not able to discover its meaning. Besides, when the Moral of a Fable is not very prominent and striking, a leading thought at the beginning puts the reader in a proper track. He knows the game which he pursues: and, like a beagle on a warm scent, he follows the sport with alacrity, in proportion to his intelligence. On the other hand, if he has no previous intimation of the design, he is puzzled throughout the Fable; and cannot determine upon its merit without the trouble of a fresh perusal. A ray of light, imparted at first, may shew him the tendency and propriety of every expression as he goes along; but while he travels in the dark, no wonder if he stumble or mistake his way.

SECT. II

Of the Action and Incidents proper for a Fable

In chusing the action or allegory, three conditions are altogether expedient. I. It must be clear: that is, it ought to shew without equivocation, precisely and obviously, what we intend should be understood. II. It must be one and entire. That is, it must not be composed of separate and independent actions, but must tend in all its circumstances to the completion of one single event. III. It must be natural: that is, founded, if nor on Truth, at least, on Probability; on popular opinion; on that relation and analogy which things bear to one another, when we have gratuitously endowed them with the human faculties of speech and reason. And these conditions are taken from the nature of the human mind; which cannot endure to be embarrassed, to be bewildered, or to be deceived.

A Fable offends against prespicuity, when it leaves us doubtful what Truth the Fabulist intended to convey. We have a striking example of this in Dr. Croxall's Fable of the creaking wheel. "A coachman, says he, hearing one of his wheels creak, was surprised; but more especially, when he perceived that it was the worst wheel of the whole set, and which he thought had but little pretence to take such a liberty. But, upon his demanding the reason why it did so, the wheel replied, that it was natural for people who laboured under any affliction or calamity to complain." Who would imagine this Fable designed, as the author informs us, for an admonition to repress, or keep our complaints to ourselves, or if we must let our sorrows speak, to take care it be done in solitude and retirement. The story of this Fable is not well imagined: at least, if meant to support the Moral which the author has drawn from it.

A Fable is faulty in respect to unity, when the several circumstances point different ways, and do not center, like so many lines, in one distinct and unambiguous Moral. An example of this kind is furnished by La Motte in the observation he makes on Fontaine's two pigeons. "These pigeons had a reciprocal affection for each other. One of them shewing a desire to travel, was earnestly opposed by his companion, but in vain. The former sets out upon his rambles, and encounters a thousand unforeseen dangers; while the latter suffers almost as much at home, through his apprehensions for his roving friend. However, our traveller, after many hair-breadth escapes, returns at length in safety back, and the two pigeons are, once again, mutually happy in each other's company." Now the application of this Fable is utterly vague and uncertain, for want of circumstances to determine, whether the author designed principally to represent the dangers of the Traveller: his friend's anxiety during his absence; or their mutual happiness on his return. Whereas, had the travelling pigeon met with no disasters on his way, but only found all pleasures insiped for want of his friend's participation; and had he returned from no other motive, than a desire of seeing him again, the whole then had happily closed in this one conspicuous inference, that the presence of a real friend is the most desirable of all gratifications.

The last rule I have mentioned, that a Fable should be natural, may be violated several ways. 'Tis opposed, when we make creatures enter into unnatural associations. Thus the sheep or the goat must not be made to hunt with the lion; and it is yet more absurd, to represent the lion as falling in love with the forester's daughter. 'Tis infringed, by ascribing to them appetites and passions that are not consistent with their known characters; or else by employing them in such occupations, as are foreign and unsuitable to their respective natures. A fox should not be said to long for grapes; an hedgehog pretend to drive away flies; nor a partridge offer his service to delve in the vineyard. A ponderous iron and an earthen vase should not swim together down a river; and he that should make his goose lay golden eggs, would shew a luxuriant fancy, but very little judgment. In short, nothing besides the faculty of speech and reason, which Fable has been allowed to confer even upon inanimates, must ever contradict the nature of things, or at least, the commonly received opinion concerning them.

Opinions indeed, although erroneous, if they either are, or have been universally received, may afford sufficient foundation for a Fable. The mandrake, here, may be made to utter groans; and the dying swan, to pour forth her elegy. The sphinx and the phoenix, the syren and the centaur, have all the existence that is requisite for Fable. Nay, the goblin, the fairy, and even the man in the moon, may have each his province allotted him, provided it be not an improper one. Here the notoriety of opinion supplies the place of fact, and in this manner truth may fairly be deduced from falsehood.

Concerning the incidents proper for Fable, it is a rule without exception, that they ought always to be few; it being foreign to the nature of this composition to admit of much variety. Yet a Fable with only one single incident may possibly appear too naked. If Esop and Phasdrus are herein sometimes too sparing, Fontaine and La Motte are as often too profuse. In this, as in most other matters, a medium certainly is best. In a word, the incidents should not only be few, but short; and like those in the Fables of "the swallow and other birds," "the miller and his son," and "the court and country-mouse," they must naturally arise out of the subject, and serve to illustrate and enforce the Moral.

SECT. III

Of the Persons, Characters, and Sentiments of Fable

The race of animals first present themselves as the proper actors in this little drama. They are indeed a species that aproaches, in many respects, so near to our own, that we need only lend them speech, in order to produce a striking resemblance. It would however be unreasonable, to expect a strict and universal similitude. There is a certain measure and degree of analogy, with which the most discerning reader will rest contented: for instance, he will accept the properties of animals, although necessary and invariable, as the images of our inclinations, tho' never so free. To require more than this, were to sap the very foundations of allegory; and even to deprive ourselves of half the pleasure that flows from poetry in general.

Solomon sends us to the ant, to learn the wisdom of industry: and our inimitable ethic poet introduces nature herself as giving us a similar kind of counsel.

Thus then to Man the voice of Nature spake;
"Go, from the Creatures thy instructions take—
"There all the forms of social union find,
"And thence, let reason late instruct mankind."

He supposes that animals in their native characters, without the advantages of speech and reason which are designed them by the Fabulists, may in regard to Morals as well as Arts, become examples to the human race. Indeed, I am afraid we have so far deviated into ascititious appetites and fantastic manners, as to find the expediency of copying from them that simplicity we ourselves have lost. If animals in themselves may be thus exemplary, how much more may they be made instructive, under the direction of an able Fabulist; who by conferring upon them the gift of language, contrives to make their instincts more intelligible and their examples more determinate!

But these are not his only actors. The Fabulist has one advantage above all other writers whatsoever; as all the works both of art and nature are more immediately at his disposal. He has, in this respect, a liberty not allowed to epick, or dramatick writers; who are undoubtedly more limited in the choice of persons to be employed. He has authority to press into his service every kind of existence under heaven: not only beasts, birds, insects, and all the animal creation; but flowers, shrubs, trees, and all the tribe of vegetables. Even mountains, fossils, minerals, and the inanimate works of nature, discourse articulately at his command, and act the part which he assigns them. The virtues, vices, and every property of beings, receive from him a local habitation and a name. In short he may personify, bestow life, speech and action, on whatever he thinks proper.

It is easy to imagine what a source of novelty and variety this must open, to a genius capable of receiving, and of employing, these ideal persons in a proper manner; what an opportunity it affords him to diversify his images, and to treat the fancy with change of objects; while he strengthens the understanding, or regulates the passions, by a succession of Truths. To raise beings like these into a state of action and intelligence, gives the Fabulist an undoubted claim to that first character of the poet, a Creator. I rank him not, as I said before, with the writers of epick or dramatick poems; but the maker of pins or needles is as much an artist, as an anchorsmith: and a painter in miniature may shew as much skill, as he who paints in the largest proportions.

When these persons are once raised, we must carefully injoin them proper talks; and assign them sentiments and language suitable to their several natures, and respective properties.

A raven should not be extolled for her voice, nor a bear be represented with an elegant shape. 'Twere a very obvious instance of absurdity, to paint an hare, cruel; or a wolf, compassionate. An ass were but ill qualified to be General of an army, though he may well enough serve perhaps for one of the trumpeters. But so long as popular opinion allows to the lion, magnanimity; rage, to the tiger; strength, to the mule; cunning, to the fox; and buffoonery, to the monkey; why may not they support the characters of an Agamemnon, Achilles, Ajax, Ulysses and Thersites? The truth is, when Moral actions are with judgment attributed to the brute creation, we scarce perceive that nature is at all violated by the Fabulist. He appears, at most, to have only translated their language. His lions, wolves, and foxes, behave and argue as those creatures would, had they originally been endowed with the human faculties of speech and reason.

But greater art is yet required, whenever we personify inanimate beings. Here the copy so far deviates from the great lines of nature, that, without the nicest care, reason will revolt against the fiction. However, beings of this sort, managed ingeniously and with address, recommend the Fabulist's invention by the grace of novelty and of variety. Indeed the analogy between things natural and artificial, animate and inanimate, is often so very striking, that we can, with seeming propriety, give passions and sentiments to every individual part of existence. Appearance favours the deception. The vine may be enamoured of the elm; her embraces testify her passion. The swelling mountain may, naturally enough, be delivered of a mouse. The gourd may reproach the pine, and the sky-rocket insult the stars. The axe may sollicit a new handle of the forest; and the moon, in her female character, request a fashionable garment. Here is nothing incongruous; nothing that shocks the reader with impropriety. On the other hand, were the axe to desire a fine perriwig, and the moon petition for a new pair of boots, probability would then be violated, and the absurdity become too glaring.

SECT. IV

On the Language of Fable

The most beautiful Fables that ever were invented, may be disfigured by the Language in which they are clothed. Of this, poor Esop, in some of his English dresses, affords a melancholy proof. The ordinary style of Fable should be familiar, but it should also be elegant. Were I to instance any style that I should prefer on this occasion, it should be that of Mr. Addison's little tales in the Spectator. That ease and simplicity, that conciseness and propriety, that subdued and decent humour he so remarkably discovers in those compositions, seem to have qualified him for a Fabulist, almost beyond any other writer. But to return.

The Familiar, says Mr. La Motte, to whose ingenious Essay I have often been obliged in this discourse, is the general tone or accent of Fable. It was thought sufficient, on its first appearance, to lend the animals our most common language. Nor indeed have they any extraordinary pretensions to the sublime; it being requisite they should speak with the same simplicity that they behave.

The familiar also is more proper for insinuation, than the elevated; this being the language of reflection, as the former is the voice of sentiment. We guard ourselves against the one, but lie open to the other; and instruction will always the most effectually sway us, when it appears least jealous of its rights and privileges.

The familiar style however that is here required, notwithstanding that appearance of Ease which is its character, is perhaps more difficult to write, than the elevated or sublime. A writer more readily perceives when he has risen above the common language; than he perceives, in speaking this language, whether he has made the choice that is most suitable to the occasion: and it is nevertheless, upon this happy choice that all the charm of the familiar depends. Moreover, the elevated style deceives and seduces, although it be not the best chosen; whereas the familiar can procure itself no sort of respect, if it be not easy, natural, just, delicate, and unaffected. A Fabulist must therefore bestow great attention upon his style: and even labour it so much the more, that it may appear to have cost him no pains at all.

The authority of Fontaine justifies this opinion in regard to style. His Fables are perhaps the best examples of the genteel familiar, as Sir Roger L'Estrange affords the grossest, of the indelicate and low. When we read that "while the frog and the mouse were disputing it at sword's point, down comes a kite powdering upon them in the interim, and gobbets up both together to part the fray." And where the fox reproaches "a bevy of jolly gossiping wenches making merry over a disk of pullets, that, if he but peeped into a hen-roost, they always made a bawling with their dogs and their bastards; while you yourselves, says he, can lie stuffing your guts with your hens and your capons, and not a word of the pudding." This may be familiar, but is also coarse and vulgar; and cannot fail to disgust a reader that has the least degree of taste or delicacy.

The style of Fable then must be simple and familiar; and it must likewise be correct and elegant. By the former, I would advise that it should not be loaded with figure and metaphor; that the disposition of words be natural; the turn of sentences, easy; and their construction, unembarrassed. By elegance, I would exclude all coarse and provincial terms; all affected and puerile conceits; all obsolete and pedantick phrases. To this I would adjoin, as the word perhaps implies, a certain finishing polish, which gives a grace and spirit to the whole; and which, tho' it have always the appearance of nature, is almost ever the effect of art.

But, notwithstanding all that has been said, there are some occasions on which it is allowable, and even expedient to change the style. The language of a Fable must rise or fall in conformity to the subject. A Lion, when introduced in his regal capacity, must hold discourse in a strain somewhat more elevated than a Country-Mouse. The lioness then becomes his Queen, and the beasts of the forest are called his Subjects: a method that offers at once to the imagination, both the animal and the person he is designed to represent. Again, the buffoon-monkey should avoid that pomp of phrase, which the owl employs as her best pretence to wisdom. Unless the style be thus judiciously varied, it will be impossible to preserve a just distinction of character.

Descriptions, at once concise and pertinent, add a grace to Fable; but are then most happy, when included in the action: whereof the Fable of "Boreas and the Sun" affords us an example. An epithet well chosen is often a description in itself; and so much the more agreeable, as it the less retards us in our pursuit of the catastrophe.

I might enlarge much further on the subject, but perhaps I may appear to have been too diffuse already. Let it suffice to hint, that little strokes of humour, when arising naturally from the subject; and incidental reflections, when kept in due subordination to the principal, add a value to these compositions. These latter however should be employed very sparingly, and with great address; be very few and very short: It is scarcely enough that they naturally result from the subject: they should be such as may appear necessary and essential parts of the Fable. And when these embellishments, pleasing in themselves, tend to illustrate the main action, they then afford that nameless grace remarkable in Fontaine and some few others; and which persons of the best discernment will more easily conceive, than they can explain.