FABLE LXVI
by John Gay · from Fables of John Gay (Somewhat Altered)
Adapted Version
A big, black bird sits on a tree. His eyes are bright. He looks down at the ground below. He smells something new. It is a strange smell. Things are not always the same. Things can change. A tall person is not a short person. A big tree is not a small flower. But the ground is the same for everyone.
The Black Bird sits on the branch. "I smell something new," he says. "It is coming from the ground. It is a big smell. A strong smell. I think it is a horse. Yes, a horse is in the ground."
A man is digging in the dirt. He uses a big spade. Up and down, up and down. The hole gets deep. He hears the bird and looks up. "No," says the man. He shakes his head. "You are wrong. It is not a horse. It is a person."
"Your smell is bad," says the man. The Black Bird feels sad, then a little mad. "No," says the bird, puffing his chest. "My smell is good. I can smell berries from far away. I can smell rain before it falls. I can smell very well!"
The man puts his hands on his hips. "You do not understand," he says. He looks at the bird. The bird looks at the man. They are both quiet for a moment. Then the bird has an idea. "Let's ask for help," he says. "Let's ask someone who knows the ground."
A little worm comes out of the dirt. He moves slowly. He is long and pink. "Look!" says the bird. "He lives in the ground. He will know the answer. Let's ask the worm."
The Wise Worm looks at them. "I live here," he says in a small voice. "I live deep in the ground. In the ground, it is always dark. Everything feels the same here. A root feels like a bone. A stone feels like a root. Is it a horse? Is it a person? I cannot tell. Down here, everything is the ground. Everything becomes the same."
The bird and the man are quiet. The man looks at the hole. The bird is still on the tree. The wise worm goes back into the ground. He disappears into the dark. The end.
Original Story
FABLE LXVI.
The Raven, Sexton, and Worm.
(To Laura.)
My Laura, your rebukes are prudish;
For although flattery is rudish,
Yet deference, not more than just,
May be received without disgust.
Am I a privilege denied
Assumed by every tongue beside?
And are you, fair and feminine,
Prone to reject a verse benign?
And is it an offence to tell
A fact which all mankind knows well?
Or with a poet's hand to trace
The beaming lustre of your face?
Nor tell in metaphor my tale,
How the moon makes the planets pale?
I check my song; and only gaze,
Admiring what I may not praise.
If you reject my tribute due,
I'll moralise—despite of you.
To moralise a theme is duty:
My muse shall moralise of beauty.
Amidst the galaxy of fair,
Who do not moralise, the ear
Might be offended to be told
That beauty ever can grow old.
Though you by age must lose much more
Than ever beauty lost before,
You will regard it, when 'tis flown,
As if it ne'er had been your own.
Were you by Antoninus taught?
Or is it native strength of thought,
To view with such an equal mind
The fleeting bloom to doom consigned.
Those eyes, in truth, are only clay:
As diamonds, e'en so are they.
And what is beauty in her power?
The tyrant of the passing hour.
How baseless is all human pride?
Naught have we whereon to confide.
Why lose we life in anxious cares,
And lay up hoards for future years?
Or can they cheer the sick, or buy
One hour of breath to those who die?
For what is beauty but a flower,
Grass of the field, which lives its hour?
And what of lordly man the sway,
The tyrant of the passing day?
The laws of nature hold their reign
O'er man throughout her whole domain.
The monarch of long regal line
Possesses dust as frail as mine:
Nor can he any more than I
Fever or restless pains defy.
Nor can he, more than I, delay
The mortal period of his day.
Then let my muse remember aye
Beauty and grandeur still are clay.
The king and beggar in the tomb
Commingling in the dust and doom.
Upon a venerable yew,
Which in the village churchyard grew,
Two ravens sat. With solemn croak
Thus to his mate a raven spoke:—
"Ah! ah! I scent upon the blast
The odour of some flesh at last.
Huzza! it is old Dobbin's steed,
On which we daintily shall feed.
I know the scent of divers courses,
And own the present as a horse's."
A sexton, busy at his trade,
Paused, to hear more, upon his spade;
For death was puzzled in his brain
With sexton fees and sexton gain.
He spoke, and said: "You blundering fowls,
Nought better in your scent than owls:
It is the squire of Hawthorn Hall,
Who now is lying under pall.
I dig his grave;—a pretty bit
Of work it is—though I say it.
A horse's! Ah! come out of that;
Yet needs must own that squire was fat.
What then? Do you birds make pretence
To smelling—which is a fifth sense—
And yet your sense of smell so coarse is
You can't distinguish man and horse's?"
"I," said the bird, "did not intend
To do you disrespect, my friend:
Indeed, we no reflection meant
By such similitude of scent.
The Arabs—epicures—will feed,
Preferring it to all, on steed;
As Britons, of your proper brood.
Think venison to be mighty good."
The sexton roared with indignation,
And spoke, methinks, about salvation;
At any rate, his rage to carry on,
He called the ravens brutes and carrion!
The situation of the foes
Prevented they should come to blows:
But for revilings vile, as friends—
They banded words, to gain their ends.
"Hold!" said the raven, "human pride
Cannot by reason be defied.
The point is knotty; tastes may err:
Refer it to some connoisseur."
And, as he spoke, a worn unrolled
His monstrous volumes from the mould;
They chose him for the referee,
And on the pleadings they agree.
The earthworm, with a solemn face,
Reviewed the features of the case:
"For I," said he, "have doubtless dined
On carcases of every kind;
Have fed on man, fowl, beast, and fish,
And know the flavour of each dish.
A glutton is the worst: for the rest
'Tis difficult to tell the best.
If I were man, I would not strive
Upon this question,—man alive!
With other points to win applause:
The King who gives his people laws
Unto the people, who obey them;
And, though at last Death comes to slay them,
Yet were the noble souls and good
Never resigned to worms for food.
Virtue distinguishes mankind,—
Immortal is the soul and mind;
And that, which is not buried here,
Mounts somewhere; but I know not where!
So good man sexton, since the case
Appears with such a dubious face,
Excuse me, if I can't determine
What different tastes suit different vermin!"
Story DNA
Moral
All earthly beauty, grandeur, and pride are fleeting and ultimately return to dust, making all beings equal in death.
Plot Summary
The fable begins with a philosophical reflection on the fleeting nature of beauty and human pride, asserting that all earthly distinctions vanish in death. This theme is then illustrated by two ravens in a churchyard who argue over whether a fresh corpse is a horse or a human. A sexton, digging the grave, intervenes, insisting it's a human squire and scolding the birds for their poor sense of smell. The ensuing argument about taste and identity is referred to an earthworm, who, having consumed all manner of flesh, declares that from its perspective, all carcasses are fundamentally the same, thus reinforcing the moral that death equalizes all beings despite human virtue or pride.
Themes
Emotional Arc
reflection to acceptance
Writing Style
Narrative Elements
Cultural Context
John Gay was an English poet and dramatist, known for his fables and 'The Beggar's Opera'. This fable reflects Enlightenment-era philosophical concerns about human vanity and mortality, often presented through animal allegories.
Plot Beats (11)
- The narrator begins by addressing Laura, reflecting on the nature of flattery and the inevitability of beauty fading with age.
- The narrator emphasizes that human pride and earthly possessions are baseless, as all, from kings to beggars, are subject to death.
- Two ravens perched on a yew tree in a churchyard discuss the scent of a new carcass, believing it to be a horse.
- A sexton, digging a grave, interrupts them, correcting that it is the squire of Hawthorn Hall, not a horse.
- The sexton scolds the ravens for their poor sense of smell, leading to an argument about distinguishing human from animal remains.
- The ravens defend their sense of smell, noting that different cultures have different culinary preferences for meat.
- The sexton, enraged, calls the ravens 'brutes and carrion'.
- The raven suggests they refer their dispute about taste and identity to a connoisseur.
- An earthworm emerges from the mould and is chosen as the referee due to its extensive experience with all types of carcasses.
- The earthworm states that it has dined on all kinds of flesh—man, fowl, beast, and fish—and finds it difficult to distinguish the 'best' among them.
- The worm concludes that while virtue distinguishes mankind and the soul is immortal, the physical remains are all the same to a worm, thus declining to determine which 'vermin's' taste is superior.
Characters
The Raven (Speaker) ◆ supporting
A large, sleek raven with glossy black feathers. His build is robust, indicative of a scavenger, with strong talons and a sharp, dark beak. He is perched on a venerable yew tree.
Attire: Natural black feathers, which are his permanent covering.
Wants: To secure food and assert his knowledge of scents, and later, to win the argument with the Sexton.
Flaw: His pride in his sense of smell, which leads him into an argument.
He learns that distinguishing between carrion can be more complex than he initially thought, and that human pride is a powerful force.
Observant, pragmatic, somewhat argumentative, and a bit of a gourmand when it comes to carrion. He is also capable of a certain dry wit and a willingness to debate.
Image Prompt & Upload
A large, sleek raven with iridescent black feathers, perched on a gnarled branch of a dark yew tree. Its head is slightly cocked, and its dark, intelligent eyes are focused forward. Its sharp, curved black beak is slightly open as if speaking. Plain white background, full body visible head to toe, single figure, no watermark, no text, no signature.
The Sexton ◆ supporting
A sturdy, perhaps slightly portly, middle-aged man with hands calloused from digging. He is likely of average height, with a build suited to manual labor. His face might be weathered from outdoor work.
Attire: Practical, sturdy working clothes typical of an 18th-century English village sexton: a coarse linen or wool shirt, sturdy breeches, thick stockings, and heavy leather shoes. He might wear a simple, dark waistcoat and a cap to protect from the sun or cold. His clothes would be dusty and earth-stained.
Wants: To defend his human dignity and his ability to distinguish between human and animal remains, and to assert his knowledge over the ravens.
Flaw: His quick temper and pride, which make him easily provoked.
He is forced to confront the idea that in death, all flesh is similar, and that his human distinctions might be less significant than he believes.
Hot-tempered, proud of his trade, easily offended, and somewhat materialistic (concerned with 'sexton fees and sexton gain'). He is quick to anger and to assert his perceived superiority.
Image Prompt & Upload
A sturdy, middle-aged man of average height, with a weathered, ruddy face and a short, practical haircut, possibly graying. He wears a coarse dark linen shirt, sturdy brown breeches, thick gray stockings, and heavy leather shoes. A simple dark waistcoat is visible. He leans on a heavy, wooden-handled spade, his hands calloused. His expression is indignant and slightly angry. Plain white background, full body visible head to toe, single figure, no watermark, no text, no signature.
The Worm ◆ supporting
A long, segmented earthworm, described as 'unrolled His monstrous volumes from the mould', implying a substantial size relative to other worms, and a venerable, ancient appearance. Its body is moist and earthy-brown or reddish-brown.
Attire: Its natural skin, which is its permanent covering.
Wants: To act as an impartial judge and to share its vast experience of the natural world and the ultimate fate of all flesh.
Flaw: Its inability to fully comprehend or resolve human-specific concepts like 'virtue' or the 'soul'.
Serves as a catalyst for the other characters to confront the transient nature of life and the ultimate fate of all beings.
Solemn, experienced, wise, and philosophical. It is a connoisseur of carrion and approaches the debate with a detached, objective perspective.
Image Prompt & Upload
A large, segmented earthworm, reddish-brown and moist, slowly uncoiling from a small mound of dark, rich soil. Its body is thick and venerable, with subtle rings along its length. Its anterior end is slightly raised, as if observing or speaking, conveying a sense of ancient wisdom. Plain white background, full body visible head to toe, single figure, no watermark, no text, no signature.
Locations
Village Churchyard
A solemn and venerable churchyard, featuring a large, ancient yew tree. The ground is disturbed by the sexton's digging.
Mood: Somber, reflective, slightly morbid due to the presence of graves and the sexton's work.
The primary setting for the debate between the ravens, sexton, and worm about the nature of death and decay.
Image Prompt & Upload
A quiet English village churchyard at dusk, with an ancient, gnarled yew tree dominating the foreground. Gravestones of varying ages are scattered across the slightly overgrown, mossy ground. A freshly dug grave exposes dark, rich earth. The sky is a muted grey, casting a soft, diffused light over the scene. no border, no frame, no watermark, no text, no signature, edge-to-edge illustration.
