We must not be afraid on that account
that marriages in the future will be less frequent, and husbands more on
their guard.
that marriages in the future will be less frequent, and husbands more on
their guard.
La Fontaine
There are some which I have extended,
and others which I have abridged, only for the sake of diversifying them
and making them less tedious. But I am occupying myself over matters
about which perhaps people will take no notice, whilst I have reason to
apprehend much more important objections. There are only two principal
ones which can be made against me; the one that this book is licentious;
the other that it does not sufficiently spare the fair sex. With regard
to the first, I say boldly that the nature of what is understood as a
tale decided that it should be so, it being an indispensable law
according to Horace, or rather according to reason and common sense, that
one must conform one's self to the nature of the things about which one
writes. Now, that I should be permitted to write about these as so many
others have done and with success I do not believe it can be doubted; and
people cannot condemn me for so doing, without also condemning Ariosto
before me and the Ancients before Ariosto. It may be said that I should
have done better to have suppressed certain details, or at least to have
disguised them. Nothing was more easy, but it would have weakened the
tale and taken away some of its charm: So much circumspection is only
necessary in works which promise great discretion from the beginning,
either by their subject or by the manner in which they are treated. I
confess that it is necessary to keep within certain limits, and that the
narrowest are the best; also it must be allowed me that to be too
scrupulous would spoil all. He who would wish to reduce Boccaccio to the
same modesty as Virgil, would assuredly produce nothing worth having, and
would sin against the laws of propriety by setting himself the task to
observe them. For in order that one may not make a mistake in matters
of verse and prose, extreme modesty and propriety are two very different
things. Cicero makes the latter consist in saying what is appropriate
one should say, considering the place, the time, and the persons to whom
one is speaking. This principle once admitted, it is not a fault of
judgment to entertain the people of to-day with Tales which are a little
broad. Neither do I sin in that against morality. If there is anything
in our writings which is capable of making an impression on the mind, it
is by no means the gaiety of these Tales; it passes off lightly; I should
rather fear a tranquil melancholy, into which the most chaste and modest
novels are very capable of plunging us, and which is a great preparation
for love. As to the second objection, by which people reproach me that
this book does wrong to womankind, they would be right if I were
speaking seriously: but who does not see that this is all in jest,
and consequently cannot injure?
We must not be afraid on that account
that marriages in the future will be less frequent, and husbands more on
their guard. It may still be objected that these Tales are unfounded or
that they have everywhere a foundation easy to destroy; in short that
they are absurdities and have not the least tinge of probability.
I reply in a few words that I have my authorities: and besides it is
neither truth nor probability which makes the beauty and the charm of
these Tales: it is only the manner of telling them. These are the
principal points on which I have thought it necessary to defend myself.
I abandon the rest to the censors; the more so as it would be an infinite
undertaking to pretend to reply to all. Criticism never stops short nor
ever wants for subjects on which to exercise itself: even if those I am
able to foresee were taken from it, it would soon have discovered others.
TALES AND NOVELS
OF
J. DE LA FONTAINE
. . . . . . .
JOCONDE
IN Lombardy's fair land, in days of yore,
Once dwelt a prince, of youthful charms, a store;
Each FAIR, with anxious look, his favours sought,
And ev'ry heart within his net was caught.
Quite proud of beauteous form and smart address,
In which the world was led to acquiesce,
He cried one day, while ALL attention paid,
I'll bet a million, Nature never made
Beneath the sun, another man like me,
Whose symmetry with mine can well agree.
and others which I have abridged, only for the sake of diversifying them
and making them less tedious. But I am occupying myself over matters
about which perhaps people will take no notice, whilst I have reason to
apprehend much more important objections. There are only two principal
ones which can be made against me; the one that this book is licentious;
the other that it does not sufficiently spare the fair sex. With regard
to the first, I say boldly that the nature of what is understood as a
tale decided that it should be so, it being an indispensable law
according to Horace, or rather according to reason and common sense, that
one must conform one's self to the nature of the things about which one
writes. Now, that I should be permitted to write about these as so many
others have done and with success I do not believe it can be doubted; and
people cannot condemn me for so doing, without also condemning Ariosto
before me and the Ancients before Ariosto. It may be said that I should
have done better to have suppressed certain details, or at least to have
disguised them. Nothing was more easy, but it would have weakened the
tale and taken away some of its charm: So much circumspection is only
necessary in works which promise great discretion from the beginning,
either by their subject or by the manner in which they are treated. I
confess that it is necessary to keep within certain limits, and that the
narrowest are the best; also it must be allowed me that to be too
scrupulous would spoil all. He who would wish to reduce Boccaccio to the
same modesty as Virgil, would assuredly produce nothing worth having, and
would sin against the laws of propriety by setting himself the task to
observe them. For in order that one may not make a mistake in matters
of verse and prose, extreme modesty and propriety are two very different
things. Cicero makes the latter consist in saying what is appropriate
one should say, considering the place, the time, and the persons to whom
one is speaking. This principle once admitted, it is not a fault of
judgment to entertain the people of to-day with Tales which are a little
broad. Neither do I sin in that against morality. If there is anything
in our writings which is capable of making an impression on the mind, it
is by no means the gaiety of these Tales; it passes off lightly; I should
rather fear a tranquil melancholy, into which the most chaste and modest
novels are very capable of plunging us, and which is a great preparation
for love. As to the second objection, by which people reproach me that
this book does wrong to womankind, they would be right if I were
speaking seriously: but who does not see that this is all in jest,
and consequently cannot injure?
We must not be afraid on that account
that marriages in the future will be less frequent, and husbands more on
their guard. It may still be objected that these Tales are unfounded or
that they have everywhere a foundation easy to destroy; in short that
they are absurdities and have not the least tinge of probability.
I reply in a few words that I have my authorities: and besides it is
neither truth nor probability which makes the beauty and the charm of
these Tales: it is only the manner of telling them. These are the
principal points on which I have thought it necessary to defend myself.
I abandon the rest to the censors; the more so as it would be an infinite
undertaking to pretend to reply to all. Criticism never stops short nor
ever wants for subjects on which to exercise itself: even if those I am
able to foresee were taken from it, it would soon have discovered others.
TALES AND NOVELS
OF
J. DE LA FONTAINE
. . . . . . .
JOCONDE
IN Lombardy's fair land, in days of yore,
Once dwelt a prince, of youthful charms, a store;
Each FAIR, with anxious look, his favours sought,
And ev'ry heart within his net was caught.
Quite proud of beauteous form and smart address,
In which the world was led to acquiesce,
He cried one day, while ALL attention paid,
I'll bet a million, Nature never made
Beneath the sun, another man like me,
Whose symmetry with mine can well agree.
