Fables in Song :: :: University of Virginia Library

This pleasant life, so calm and so caressing,
Was interrupted by a journey brief
Simplicius, on account of business pressing,
Was forced to undertake. Before the chief
His castle left, he call'd into his presence
An old retainer born beneath its roof,
Of all domestic virtues the quintessence;
A tried and trusted spirit—above proof.
Whom (to secure administrative unity)
With counsel carefully minute and clear
He gave in charge of his beloved community,
The Dog, the Cat, the Blackbird, and the Bear.

2.

The business settled to his satisfaction
Which drew Simplicius from his own abode,
He, with a mind relieved from all distraction
And full of longings, on his homeward road

One evening reach'd, when it was somewhat late,
The last post station. 'Twas a tiny town,
But few hours distant from his own estate.
But there, his horses having broken down,
For fresh relays he was constrain'd to wait.
Besides, a storm was coming on. So, there
Resolving prudently to pass the night,
He order'd rooms and supper at The Bear;
A little hostel cheerful, clean, and bright,
Whose landlord was postmaster of the village,
A farmer, too, with land in his own tillage.

3.

The candles lighted, and the clean cloth spread,
The curtains drawn in cosier proximity
About the smooth sheets of the snowy bed,
For pure dreams shelter'd by demurest dimity;
Dandling his napkin with important air
The obsequious waiter offer'd to Simplicius,
Proud of its length, a boastful bill of fare,
And list of wines, which he declared delicious.
Careless as tho' it were a begging letter
Simplicius glanced it over; and, because
He trusted not its pledge of viands better,
He was about to order without pause
A simple steak—when these words proved a whetter
To his attention—‘Bear's paws, Tartar sauce.’

4.

This dish to him was quite a novel one.
There is no reason that we can declare
For thinking a plain beefsteak, if well done,
Less good for supper than grill'd paws of bear.
But man's pall'd appetite his inclination
Impels to range beyond the bound precise
Of what he needs for simple sustentation:
And to the victims of his gourmandise
Simplicius felt a forcible temptation
To add (since new they were, and might be nice)
Grill'd paws of bear. Just as no strange intrigue,
That to the list of all his old damnations
Added a new seduction, could fatigue
Don Juan in his search of fresh sensations.
So, for the sole dish of his lonely mess table,
Simplicius order'd bear's paws, to replenish
The stock of his experiences digestible,
And wash'd them down with half a flask of Rhenish.
The dish he chose was perfectly detestable;
But still his stomach did not prove rebellious,
For fancy flatter'd him that he had fed
On food which might have tempted a Vitellius.
In which benign belief he went to bed.

5.

Near morn he dream'd a dream. He dream'd his Bear
Was turn'd into a Lady, tall and stately:

And dream'd that he, himself, her fingers fair
With fervour kiss'd. Then, as she smiled sedately,
He sigh'd “Ah madam! if you could but tell
How charming, grill'd with Tartar sauce, it is,
Before the altar, with your heart as well,
You would on me bestow the hand I kiss!”
His sleep was broken by the Postboy's horn
Just as the fair dame of his dream replied
Blushing, and like a lady nobly born
Whose passion struggles with a modest pride,
“Ah Baron, libertines such flatterers are!
And trustful fools are we. Unhand me, pray!
There's nothing in the world that can compare
With dog, served up in honey, the new way.”

6.

The sun was beaming brightly thro' the casement,
Mine host had brought the coffee. From repose,
Still half between amusement and amazement,
Simplicius, smiling at his dream, arose:
Finish'd his breakfast: lighted his cigar:
And sprang into his carriage, quite elate.
He knew his own good mansion was not far.
A few hours brought him to the castle gate.

7.

He cross'd the court, surprised and somewhat sadden'd
That Nero, faithful guardian of his hall,

With no gay bark his silent entry gladden'd.
Nor came the good dog to his master's call.
But more, anon, that master's heart was grieved
When, to him coming o'er the cloister'd flags,
His agèd Major Domo he perceived
With palsied head bound up in bloody rags.
And “Ah my lord,” the old man cried, “alas!
Alas, and woe the day!”—“Why, honest Andrew,
Why such affliction? What hath come to pass?”
Only a heavy sigh that agèd man drew.
“What mean those bloody bandages?”—“Dear master,”
The old man whimper'd with a whine of woe,
“My hair's clean gone in that accurst disaster,
And to my grave I in a wig must go.”

8.

“Man, what disaster?”—“O, the Bird, the Bird!”
“What bird? and what has happen'd? tell me what?”
Simplicius cried by sad forebodings stirr'd,
“And O the Cat,” groan'd Andrew, “O the Cat!”
Then on he rambled, all ejaculation,
“O, my good master! O, my hair! my hair!
And O, the Dog!” With rising agitation
“The dog?” exclaim'd Simplicius. “And the Bear,
The Bear!” groan'd Andrew. “What a situation!”
“Quick!” cried his master, “all the truth declare.”
Then, drop by drop as 'twere, this sad narration
Oozed from the depths of the old man's despair.

9.

Andrew, the moment that his lord was gone,
Had yielded to a wish long while represt,
A wild emotion ever and anon
Haunting good servants—to disturb their rest,
And, more, their master's. For so fine a border
Between extremes is in this planet scurvy,
That when they want to set the house in order
Your servants always turn it topsy-turvy.
The house, in this case, was the bird's house merely;
But much the bird disliked that innovation.
And we ourselves, who have experienced yearly
The same conditions, and the same sensation,
Can understand the bird's bewilder'd rage.
Retreating restlessly, without success,
From one nook to another of his cage,
He tried to escape that demon, Cleanliness;
And at the last, his incommoded premises
Deserting altogether, forth he flew.
But that desertion the avenging Nemesis
Of violated custom did pursue.
Infatuating freedom more and more
Confused his soul, already in confusion;
And now against the ceiling, now the floor,
He flounced with flop, and flutter, and contusion;
Flew bounce against the cornice of the door,
Then, clamorous, at the casement's cold delusion
Which mock'd him (since for him they waved no more)

With sight of waving woods in wild profusion.
At length he turn'd to books for consolation,
And o'er the bookcase perch'd in Gothic gloom.
Andrew, bewilder'd too, took that occasion
To hasten to the pantry for a broom.
But when, with this new engine of persuasion,
He to the chase return'd,—alas o'erpowering
(As well it might be) was his consternation
To find the Cat (more quick than he) devouring
The last few bloody feathers of the Bird.

10.

“Beast!” cried Simplicius, when the story came
To this sad point, and by resentment stirr'd
He rose in haste, “I'll bring her to the scratch!”
“Alas, my lord,” old Andrew cried with shame,
“That's what I tried. But cats are hard to catch.
I hurl'd my broomstick, like a javelin, at her:
She thro' the door, left open, darted: hard
Behind her, down the stairs with cry and clatter,
I after: and so out across the yard.
This Nero saw: and judged the Cat in fault.
Nor judged he wrong. The little murderess fled;
But Nero (honest dog) still barking ‘halt’
Fleet on her sly and felon footsteps sped.
Poor Puss! . . . He meant it for the best . . . and yet—
’Twixt dog and cat there's ancient feud ’tis said,
Like that between my lords of Capulet

And Montague, of which in books I've read.
But I'll believe not that our Nero's breast
Lodged hate like theirs—or any hate at all.
Too good was he! He meant it for the best.
The Cat had sprung upon the Bear-pit's wall.
The Dog sprang after. With a gallant grip
He pinn'd her by the throat, and . . . squeak!”— “The brute!”
Simplicius cried, “but he shall feel my whip.
Go, fetch it!” Andrew, melancholy mute,
Turn'd, brush'd his hand across his eyes, and said
“Nero will never feel the whip again.”

11.

The old man sigh'd profoundly, shook his head,
And then resumed. “Regrets and threats are vain.
O what a sight! methinks I see it yet.
The Cat was down. The Dog above her stood.
But both were struggling on the parapet.
The Cat's white coat was red with clots of blood,
With blood the Dog's black muzzle. And meanwhile,
Perch'd on his pole, the Bear this conflict eyed;
Smiling, as well as such a brute can smile,
And wagg'd his hideous head from side to side.
His paws, with an atrocious affectation,
Cross'd loose and languid o'er his bulky breast,
His small eyes, all unwonted animation,
Glowing expectant with a greedy zest.
And all this time the monster humm'd with pleasure,

And all this time the moment's helpless dread
Crippled me like a paralytic seizure.
The Cat, at last, lay still. I deem'd her dead.
Is there a second Cat-world, as I'm fain
To hope, where cats redeem'd, without relapse,
By birds untempted, and by dogs unslain,
Live and do better? Pardon'd there, perhaps,
Each sinful puss may yet to peace attain.
Else why earth's torturing trials, dogs, guns, traps?
Whilst thus I mused, up sprang the Cat again,
And dealt the Dog a buffet in the chaps.
That was her dying effort. In surprise
The Dog set up a howl—recoil'd—slipp'd—fell
Into the pit—I turn'd away mine eyes,
And what I could not see I cannot tell.
It overcomes me. Never to that wall
My looks are turn'd without a pang of pain.
He was a dog who, take him all in all,
We shall not look upon his like again.”

12.

And, since the old man's utterance fail'd him, here
Stepp'd, cap in hand, the Keeper from the clan
Of listening servants who had gather'd near,
And “Save your lordship's presence,” he began,
“'Tis too much for the old one. Let him be.
More bravely then, my lord, himself he bore.
Three skips into the house to find the key,
And down the stairs again in three skips more.

Next moment in old Bruin's den was he.
Ay, without fear! without his hat, too. Well,
Meanwhile there rested nothing but a ruin
Of broken bones to mark where Nero fell,
And these the Bear was mumbling. ‘Bruin! Bruin!
Bruin, you brute!’ cried Andrew. Bruin stopp'd
Mouthing the mangled morsels of poor Nero
Which leisurely with surly calm he dropp'd,
And Lord! my heart sank in me down to zero
When I beheld him on his hind legs stalking
(As proud as any Christian, please your lordship)
And, with a growl of beastly rage, half walking
Half reeling, as we landsmen do aboard ship,
Up to the old one.”—“Shoot him!” groan'd Simplicius.
The Keeper nodded, “That's already done.
For I was there. I knew the brute was vicious,
And with me, by good luck, I had my gun.
'Twas plaguy hard to aim, tho', 'twixt the pair o' them,
Bruin's black waistcoat, Master Andrew's blue one—
Hard to see which the man, and which the bear, o' them—
Half hid by both, one small white spot—the true one—
No bigger than a button. Well, I cover—
Fire—and three fall—Andrew, the Bear, and I.
Ay, ay! 'twas not my gun that kick'd me over.
My heart went thump, and that I'll not deny.
When I came round, my wife says, like a dumb thing
I stared about, and whiter than a cheese.
Good reason, too! I knew I had kill'd something,
The Bear or Andrew—one, or both of these.

'Twas Andrew luckily—I mean, 'twas he
My shot had saved. The Bear was dead as mutton.
My ball was in him just where it should be,
In that white spot no bigger than a button.

13.

“Ay, dead and done! But 'faith! in his last jigs
He scalp'd the old one clean as Indians do;
And that's why Andrew talks of wearing wigs,
Forgetting he was bald ten years ago.
But since that day the old one's just” . . . And here
The keeper slowly lifted to his forehead
A furtive finger. Lost in musings drear
“Ah,” sigh'd Simplicius, “it is all too horrid!”
Then, with a vacant dreamy air, as one
Whose thoughts are vext by the interposition
Of some vague memory that's come and gone
Before it finds within him recognition,
“What with the carcass of the Bear was done?”

14.

The Keeper answer'd “With my lord's permission,
‘A badger's half a sort of bear,’ said I.
The badger is the Keeper's perquisite,
And, deeming thus the Bear mine own, for why?
I shot him, nor could bear be better hit,
I skinn'd the beast. His grease I melted down.
The barbers bought it. For next winter's cold

His fur I kept. And in the market town
His venison to a poulterer I sold.”
“Heavens!” groan'd Simplicius, and against his brow
He struck his fist. For now the truth flash'd clear,
And he remorsefully remember'd how
He had eaten his own bear's paws at The Bear.

15.

The Cat had eaten up the Bird: ere she
In turn, a victim, to the Dog had pass'd.
The Bear had feasted on the Dog: and he,
Horror, had feasted on the Bear at last!
Thus he who, for their orgies too carnivorous,
Against Cat, Dog, and Bear had just protested
Was proved (from such injustice Saints deliver us!)
To have both eaten, relish'd, and digested
The Bear, and, with the Bear, the Bear's own dinner,
Bird, Cat, and Dog, besides—vicarious sinner!

He gazed around him with a rueful eye
That miss'd each loved and lately murder'd quality.
In fancy he beheld the Blackbird die;
The Cat a victim to the Dog's brutality;
The Dog devour'd by the Bear; and by
Himself the Bear, with Roman sensuality
Of stomach audax omnia perpeti!
And, seeing too, no fancy but reality,
The scalp'd pate of his mangled Major Domo,
“Fiat justitia,” groan'd he, “pereat homo!”