The Complete Fables
of Jean de La Fontaine
The Complete Fables
of
Jean de La Fontaine
Translated by
Norman R. Shapiro
Introduction by John Hollander
Illustrations by David Schorr
University of Illinois Press
Urbana and Chicago
Copyright © 2007 by Norman R. Shapiro
All rights reserved
Manufactured in the United States of America
1 2 3 4 5 C P 5 4 3 2 1
This book is printed on acid-free paper.
One hundred fables originally appeared in Fifty Fables of La Fontaine copyright © 1985, 1988 by Norman R. Shapiro, published by the University of Illinois Press and in Fifty More Fables of La Fontaine copyright © 1998 by Norman R. Shapiro and published by the University of Illinois Press
Sixty fables originally appeared in Once Again, La Fontaine copyright © 2000 by Norman R. Shapiro, published by Wesleyan University Press and reprinted by arrangement with Wesleyan University Press
Illustrations copyright © 2000 by David Schorr
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
La Fontaine, Jean de, 1621–1695.
[Fables. English]
The complete fables of Jean de La Fontaine / translated by Norman R. Shapiro ; introduction by John Hollander ; illustrations by David Schorr.
p. cm.
Includes bibliographical references and index.
ISBN-10 0-252-03144-X (cloth: alk. paper)
ISBN-13 978-0-252-03144-1 (cloth : alk. paper)
ISBN-10 0-252-07381-9 (pbk. : alk. paper)
ISBN-13 978-0-252-07381-6 (pbk. : alk. paper)
1. Fables, French—Translations into English.
I. Shapiro, Norman R. II. Schorr, David. III. Title.
PQ1811.E3S45 2007
841'.4—dc22 2007005144
Contents
Translator’s Preface
Introduction by John Hollander
• The Fables •
For Monseigneur le Dauphin
BOOK I
The Cricket and the Ant
The Crow and the Fox
The Frog Who Would Grow as Big as the Ox
The Two Mules
The Wolf and the Hound
The Heifer, the Goat, and the Lamb in Consort with the Lion
The Beggar’s Sack
The Swallow and the Little Birds
The City Rat and the Country Rat
The Wolf and the Lamb
The Man and His Image
The Dragon with Many Heads and the Dragon with Many Tails
The Thieves and the Ass
Simonides Saved by the Gods
Death and the Wretched Man & Death and the Woodsman
The Middle-aged Man and His Two Mistresses
The Fox and the Stork
The Child and the Schoolmaster
The Cock and the Pearl
The Hornets and the Honeybees
The Oak and the Reed
BOOK II
Against Those with Too Difficult Tastes
The Rats in Council Assembled
The Wolf Pleading against the Fox before the Ape
The Two Bulls and a Frog
The Bat and the Two Weasels
The Bird Wounded by an Arrow
The Mastiff Bitch and Her Friend
The Eagle and the Dung Beetle
The Lion and the Gnat
The Ass with a Load of Sponges and the Ass with a Load of Salt
The Lion and the Rat & The Dove and the Ant
The Astrologer Who Happens to Fall into a Well
The Hare and the Frogs
The Cock and the Fox
The Crow Who Wanted to Imitate the Eagle
The Peacock Who Complained to Juno
The Cat Metamorphosed into a Woman
The Lion and the Ass out Hunting
The Will Explained by Aesop
BOOK III
The Miller, His Son, and the Ass
The Limbs and the Stomach
The Wolf Turned Shepherd
The Frogs Who Ask for a King
The Fox and the Goat
The Eagle, the Wild Sow, and the Cat
The Drunkard and His Wife
Gout and the Spider
The Wolf and the Stork
The Lion Brought Down by Man
The Fox and the Grapes
The Swan and the Cook
The Wolf and the Ewes
The Lion Grown Old
Philomela and Procne
The Drowned Wife
The Weasel in the Larder
The Cat and an Old Rat
BOOK IV
The Lion in Love
The Shepherd and the Sea
The Fly and the Ant
The Gardener and His Lord
The Ass and the Pup
The War between the Rats and the Weasels
The Ape and the Dolphin
The Man with the Wooden Idol
The Jay Dressed in the Peacock’s Feathers
The Camel and the Floating Sticks
The Frog and the Rat
The Tribute Sent by the Animals to Alexander
The Horse Who Sought Revenge on the Stag
The Fox and the Bust
The Wolf, the She-goat, and the Kid & The Wolf, the Mother, and the Child
A Reflection from Socrates
The Old Man and His Sons
The Oracle and the Infidel
The Miser Who Lost His Treasure
The Master’s Eye
The Lark, Her Little Ones, and the Farmer Who Owns the Field
BOOK V
The Woodsman and Mercury
The Earthen Pot and the Iron Pot
The Little Fish and the Fisherman
The Hare and His Ears
The Fox Who Lost His Tail
The Old Woman and the Two Servants
The Satyr and the Passerby
The Horse and the Wolf
The Ploughman and His Sons
The Mountain in Labor
Dame Fortune and the Child
The Doctors
The Hen with the Golden Eggs
The Ass with a Load of Holy Relics
The Deer and the Vine
The Snake and the File
The Hare and the Partridge
The Eagle and the Owl
The Lion Going Off to War
The Bear and the Two Companions
The Ass Dressed in the Lion’s Skin
BOOK VI
The Shepherd and the Lion & The Lion and the Hunter
Phoebus and Boreas
Jupiter and the Farmer
The Cockerel, the Cat, and the Little Mouse
The Fox, the Ape, and the Animals
The Mule Who Boasted of His Family Tree
The Old Man and the Ass
The Stag Who Sees Himself in the Water
The Hare and the Tortoise
The Ass and His Masters
The Sun and the Frogs
The Peasant and the Snake
The Sick Lion and the Fox
The Bird-catcher, the Hawk, and the Lark
The Horse and the Ass
The Dog Who Drops His Prey for Its Reflection
The Wagoner Stuck in the Mud
The Charlatan
Discord
The Young Widow
Epilogue
BOOK VII
For Madame de Montespan
The Animals Ill with the Plague
The Man Who Married a Shrew
The Rat Who Withdrew f
rom the World
The Heron & The Damsel
The Wishes
King Lion’s Court
The Vultures and the Pigeons
The Coach and the Fly
The Milkmaid and the Milk Jug
The Curé and the Corpse
The Man Who Runs after Fortune and The Man Who Waits for Her in His Bed
The Two Cocks
The Ingratitude and Injustice of Men toward Fortune
The Fortune-tellers
The Cat, the Weasel, and the Little Rabbit
The Snake’s Head and Tail
An Animal in the Moon
BOOK VIII
Death and the Dying Man
The Cobbler and the Financier
The Lion, the Wolf, and the Fox
The Power of Fables
The Man and the Flea
Women and Secrets
The Dog Who Carries His Master’s Dinner around His Neck
The Joker and the Fish
The Rat and the Oyster
The Bear and the Garden-lover
The Two Friends
The Hog, the Goat, and the Sheep
Tircis and Amaranth
The Lioness’s Funeral
The Rat and the Elephant
The Horoscope
The Ass and the Dog
The Pasha and the Merchant
The Value of Knowledge
Jupiter and the Thunderbolts
The Falcon and the Capon
The Cat and the Rat
The Torrent and the Rivulet
Breeding
The Two Dogs and the Dead Ass
Democritus and the Abderitans
The Wolf and the Hunter
BOOK IX
The Faithless Trustee
The Two Pigeons
The Ape and the Leopard
The Acorn and the Pumpkin
The Schoolboy, the Pedant, and the Owner of a Garden
The Sculptor and the Statue of Jupiter
The Mouse Metamorphosed into a Maiden
The Madman Who Sells Wisdom
The Oyster and the Adversaries
The Wolf and the Scrawny Dog
All in Moderation
The Taper
Jupiter and the Traveler
The Cat and the Fox
The Husband, the Wife, and the Thief
The Treasure and the Two Men
The Monkey and the Cat
The Kite and the Nightingale
The Shepherd and His Flock
Discourse [for Madame de la Sablière]
The Two Rats, the Fox, and the Egg
BOOK X
The Man and the Snake
The Turtle and the Two Ducks
The Fishes and the Cormorant
The Money-burier and His Friend
The Wolf and the Shepherds
The Spider and the Swallow
The Partridge and the Cocks
The Dog Who Had His Ears Cut Short
The Shepherd and the King
The Fishes and the Shepherd Who Plays the Flute
The Two Parrots, the King, and His Son
The Lioness and the She-bear
The Two Adventurers and the Wondrous Writ
Discourse [for Monsieur le duc de la Rochefoucauld]
The Merchant, the Aristocrat, the Shepherd, and the Prince
BOOK XI
The Lion
The Gods Wishing to Instruct a Son of Jupiter
The Farmer, the Hound, and the Fox
The Dream of the Man from the Mogol Land
The Lion, the Ape, and the Two Asses
The Wolf and the Fox
The Peasant from the Danube
The Old Man and the Three Young Men
The Mice and the Screech Owl
Epilogue
BOOK XII
The Companions of Ulysses
The Cat and the Two Sparrows
The Treasure-hoarder and the Ape
The Two Goats
For Monseigneur le duc de Bourgogne
The Old Cat and the Young Mouse
The Sick Stag
The Bat, the Bush, and the Duck
The Quarrel of the Dogs and Cats and of the Cats and Mice
The Wolf and the Fox
The Crayfish and Her Daughter
The Eagle and the Magpie
The Kite, the King, and the Fowler
The Fox, the Flies, and the Hedgehog
Love and Folly
The Crow, the Gazelle, the Tortoise, and the Rat
The Forest and the Woodsman
The Fox, the Wolf, and the Horse
The Fox and the Young Turkey Cocks
The Ape
The Scythian Philosopher
The Elephant and Jupiter’s Ape
A Fool and a Wise Man
The English Fox
Daphnis and Alcimadura
Philemon and Baucis
The Matron of Ephesus
Belphegor
The Daughters of Mineas
The Arbiter, the Hospitaler, and the Hermit
APPENDIXES
The Sun and the Frogs
The Rats’ League
Notes
Notes on Illustrations
Bibliography
Index
For Evelyn
Translator’s Preface
I am a self-confessed La Fontaine addict. Unlike other addictions, this one is quite harmless. It even has an upside. My translations can help introduce those with limited or no French to the genius of the genial fabulist; and even, perhaps—though doubtful—improve the behavior of a reader or two. (“Doubtful,” because, though I myself have translated many hundreds of fables over the years, despite all their edifying content I am still as flawed a human being as I was when I began. And anyway, it is unlikely that La Fontaine’s intent for his little moral tales was truly as didactic as his first six books would have us believe. Their artistry far transcends their morality.)
But it has a definite downside too, by definition. La Fontaine’s oeuvre, after all, like any author’s, is finite. When, in 1988, I brought out my collection Fifty Fables of La Fontaine, even though I had no conscious intention at the time of doing another, the possibility of continuing to feed my happy addiction was always there. It surfaced with Fifty More Fables in 1998; and again, with Once Again, La Fontaine, a couple of years later. After each backsliding, though, I dutifully resolved that I would reform.
So much for resolutions. I went on, in my all-too-human frailty, to complete the remaining fourscore a couple of years ago, blithely ignoring the fact that the supply would thereby dry up. (And, to the best of my knowledge, there are no treatment centers to deal with La Fontaine addiction.) There are, to be sure, other competent, attractive, even thoroughly engaging French fable writers—scores and scores of them, in fact, over the centuries. And I have dealt with many. But there is only one La Fontaine. I can, of course, hope that researchers may eventually discover a trove of as yet unknown La Fontaine fables. But even that unlikely serendipity would be only a temporary solution at best. And so my “collaboration” with him, while an ongoing joy, is tempered by the knowledge that it now exists in retrospect and not in anticipation. I am both enriched by the past and saddened by its finality.
That confessed, what I present here is the integral fruit of that benignly compelling collaboration with this dean of French fabulists: translations—versions? re-creations?—of his complete Fables, in the sweep of their twelve books extending over his entire literary life, from 1668 to 1694; developing from the child-friendly and uncomplicated minidramas of the earliest, through narratives of greater philosophical and literary complexity—hardly children’s fare; and even unto the lengthy but never ponderous works in the late books. Some of these latter are not, in fact, “fables” at all, but rather contes—tales in the style of his often licentious Contes et nouvelles en vers. But who am I to argue? Included with the fables since their first publication (by either La Fontaine
or his publisher), they are traditionally part of the corpus; and for the sake of truth in advertising I include them in the announced completeness of the present collection. I hope readers will be as undaunted by “Philemon and Baucis,” “The Daughters of Mineas,” and the several others, as by “Maître Corbeau, sur un arbre perché …” and his quite different ilk, which are much more readily committed to the memory of generations of French school children. They will be rewarded with a view of La Fontaine’s narrative talent that literary histories often fail to mention but that shows many of the same qualities that make him unique.
A few words are in order concerning my own philosophy as a translator, especially of verse, and, more especially, of La Fontaine’s. Without embarking on a screed-like discussion of the “rhyme-and-meter versus free-verse” controversy between “formalists” and “literalists,” which will never lose steam among Translation Studies adepts, I would say only that for me—and individual taste is crucial here—to render formal (i.e., rhymed and metered) verse into anything but similar English is tantamount to artistic sacrilege. If the “message” is all the reader wants, a prose (or prosy) rendition is fine. The Lambs’ Tales from Shakespeare, I might point out hyperbolically, does serve a valuable purpose, after all. But the message is only part of a poet’s artifact. If he or she clothes it in rhymed and metered verse, to do less is to betray at least part of its essence and to become the proverbial translator-cum-traitor, all other things being equal. Granted, no translation will ever “reproduce” the original exactly, but why should it? That is not the translator’s purpose. What he or she aims to do is to create a self-contained, self-standing work, one that has an almost mystical connection with the original, but a work that, ostensibly independent, transmits, to whatever degree it can, its music as well as its message. Or, in the words of Seamus Heaney, “the tone” as well as “the tune.” A translator tries to do this without sacrificing either to the other. The product must be seamless, and, not calling attention to itself except by choice, must sound as unforced and, indeed, inevitable, as the text that spawned it.
In translating La Fontaine, the preceding observations are especially pertinent. His free-and-easy vers libres (i.e., freeish, not free, verse, in seventeenth-century usage), for all their liberty—their run-on lines, their natural speech rhythms, their inner rhymes and melodic repetitions—are no less set against an underlying metrical grid that constrains and intensifies that freedom. To render them into a rhymeless, meterless English would be rather like turning Shakespeare’s blank verse iambics into French rhymed octosyllabic couplets, or Dante’s terza rima into sprightly limericks. It’s safe to say that something would be lost… La Fontaine’s vehicle is as much a part of his organic whole as are his subjects and his style. He is always there, at the reader’s elbow, watching, with a complicitous wink and nod, the reaction to a bit of stylistic liberty, an unexpected archaism, an egregious rhyme, a sudden change of meter or line length for dramatic impact. Even, at times, the introduction of a one- or two-syllable word to function as an entire line. To ignore such bits of (deceptively?) casual-sounding inspiration would, for me at least, be unthinkable.
The Complete Fables of Jean de La Fontaine Page 1