
A devastating plague strikes the beasts, leaving them sick, joyless, and unable or unwilling to hunt, eat, or pursue love. The lion gathers a council and declares that Heaven has sent the scourge as punishment for sin. He proposes that the guiltiest animal should be sacrificed in hopes of restoring the health and lives of the rest, and he urges each beast to confess honestly. The lion admits that he has devoured many sheep and sometimes shepherds, though he insists that his victims had done him no harm. The fox immediately flatters him, arguing that eating sheep was no crime but an honour to them, and that the shepherds deserved their fate as usurpers over the animals. The other powerful beasts, including tigers, boars, bears, and dogs, are likewise spared serious scrutiny and treated as innocent. When the ass confesses, he admits only that he once passed through a meadow belonging to monks and, tempted by hunger, leisure, tender grass, and the devil, ate a tongueful of grass. The assembly turns furiously against him. A wolf speaks like a lawyer and declares that this ragged, scabby ass must be the cause of the plague. His small offence is judged worthy of death, and poor Grizzle is sacrificed. The fable concludes that courts excuse the strong and condemn the weak.
By Jean de La Fontaine · First published 1678 · Genre: Fable, Animal Fable, Satire · 945 words
The sorest ill that Heaven hath / Sent on this lower world in wrath, -- / The plague (to call it by its name,) / One single day of which / Would Pluto's ferryman enrich, -- / Waged war on beasts, both wild and tame. / They died not all, but all were sick: / No hunting now, by force or trick, / To save what might so soon expire. / No food excited their desire; / Nor wolf nor fox now watch'd to slay / The innocent and tender prey. / The turtles fled; / So love and therefore joy were dead. / The lion council held, and said: / 'My friends, I do believe / This awful scourge, for which we grieve, / Is for our sins a punishment / Most righteously by Heaven sent. / Let us our guiltiest beast resign, / A sacrifice to wrath divine. / Perhaps this offering, truly small, / May gain the life and health of all. / By history we find it noted / That lives have been just so devoted. / Then let us all turn eyes within, / And ferret out the hidden sin. / Himself let no one spare nor flatter, / But make clean conscience in the matter. / For me, my appetite has play'd the glutton / Too much and often upon mutton. / What harm had e'er my victims done? / I answer, truly, None. / Perhaps, sometimes, by hunger press'd, / I've eat the shepherd with the rest. / I yield myself, if need there be; / And yet I think, in equity, / Each should confess his sins with me; / For laws of right and justice cry, / The guiltiest alone should die. ' / 'Sire,' said the fox, 'your majesty / Is humbler than a king should be, / And over-squeamish in the case. / What! eating stupid sheep a crime? / No, never, sire, at any time. / It rather was an act of grace, / A mark of honour to their race. / And as to shepherds, one may swear, / The fate your majesty describes, / Is recompense less full than fair / For such usurpers o'er our tribes.'
French fable · seventeenth-century literature · animal allegory · plague · divine punishment · animal council · confession of sins · scapegoating · sacrifice · social injustice · corrupt justice · abuse of power
The Animals Sick of the Plague is listed on Textopian as a fable by Jean de La Fontaine, dated 1678 CE.
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