APOLOGUES AND FABLES,

IN PROSE AND VERSE, FROM THE GERMAN AND OTHER LANGUAGES.

(Translated for the Irish Penny Journal.)

No. 1.—THE DISCONTENTED STONES.

A mason was one day at work, building a stout wall to protect a garden; nigh him lay a piled-up heap of stones, which he took into his hands in succession, one by one, according as he wanted them. The stones on their part submitted with exemplary quietness to be handled and introduced into their appropriate places; for they were fully aware that the mason’s object was to erect a wall, and they knew equally well that that object could not be attained, if they took it into their thick heads to rebel against the principle upon which he was proceeding. At last, however, somewhat to the mason’s amusement, it did so happen, after he had accomplished a considerable portion of his task, that one contumacious fellow, upon being laid hold of, began to talk very big upon the rights of stones, and the tyranny of coercing stonekind in general, declaring, that for himself, whether in a wall or out of a wall, he was determined to enjoy that liberty which was the birthright of every stone upon the earth, and that he would sooner be trodden into powder than surrender it.

“I tell you plumply and plainly, Master Mason,” said he, “that I will not be subjected to restraint. I must have scope for my energies. I must have room to look about me, and be able to roll to the left side or to the right, as I think proper, like a free agent!”

The mason, on hearing this, could not refrain from laughing. “Truly,” said he, “I have lighted here on an eccentric specimen of the stony tribe. So, my good friend, you wish to have room to roll about in—eh?”

“Precisely,” returned the other.

“Did you ever hear of the adage, ‘a rolling stone gathers no moss?’”

“Yes, and despise it,” answered the Stone; “a moss is a token of antiquity; and antiquity and absurdity are synonymous terms in my vocabulary. May heaven defend me from ever gathering moss!”

“Whew!” whistled the mason, in a manner to indicate mingled surprise and contempt. “Pray, what do you take yourself to be?”

“What do I take myself to be! Just a stone—a wall stone—neither more nor less.”

“And are you content that I should allot you a position in the wall?”

“Certainly I am.”

“And yet,” said the mason, “you declare you will not be satisfied to remain under constraint? You must have room forsooth for your energies! Really your inconsistency is most ridiculous. Come; I have no time to lose; tell me at once what you would be at. Will you go into the wall, or shall I deposit you again on the ground?”

“I have made up my mind to oblige you by going into the wall,” replied the Stone, with a patronizing air; “but I will not be swindled out of my natural rights! Liberty is the first of these—and I must have liberty, even in a wall.”

“So you shall,” said the man; “your liberty will be that of obtaining your just position in the wall, and of maintaining it undisturbedly.”

“Bah! what stupid, sneaking notions you have of liberty, surely! I tell you again that I must have space to expand and expatiate in. Do you think that I can stoop to fill the office of a mere wedge?”

“You tire out my patience, friend,” said the mason: “there is no use in arguing the matter further. I see I cannot get you to take up your lodging in the wall: I see I must throw you on the earth again.”

“Very well; be it so,” returned the Stone: “liberty before all things! Pitch me to a respectable distance from the other stones, that I may feel myself unshackled and independent. I have the same right to be a free-stone that you have to be a free-mason.”

“There, then,” said the mason, and with the words he cast the Stone from him into the middle of the highway.

The Stone was now in the full enjoyment of its darling liberty. Exceedingly did it congratulate itself. For a time also everything went well with it. The summer was a mild one; the skies were bright, and the foot of the passenger was continually transferring it to a new locality, and showing it daily more and more of the ways of the world. But, alas! the summer could not last for ever: autumn came, and brought with it clouds of dust and showers of yellow leaves; and when the wind-gusts had subsided, there fell on the earth heavy torrents of rain; and the highway was covered with mire, and the measure of the isolated stone was forthwith taken for a surtout of mud; and there it lay, fallen from its high estate, and completely confounded by the passing eye with the vilest of the rubbish in its vicinity.

But this was not the worst: in the course of a few weeks, the rains continuing still to fall, and the mire to accumulate, the earth gave way under it, and it became, as it were, imbedded in a hole produced by the force of its own pressure on the soft soil, till at last no part of it remained above ground except the upper surface. Unfortunately, too, there was no longer a possibility of retracing its steps, for the wall was now erected and the mason was far away. Nothing remained for it but to sink deeplier and deeplier into the earth, until not a vestige of it remained visible to the eye. Alas! for our poor Stone! Oh, Liberty! Oh, Independence! ye are indeed desirable objects of attainment; but surely they who seek ye at the expense of the great combining principle of social order, commit a senseless and irremediable blunder.

In the spring following, the mason was employed in building another wall. He hoped that his work would be suffered to proceed without interruption on this occasion at least, but he was speedily undeceived; for one of the stones, just as in the previous year, began to grumble, and protest against the treatment to which it was about to be subjected. The mason, recollecting the former scene, was on the point of flinging it away at once; but second thoughts suggested to him the eligibility of first trying the effect of a little reasoning and remonstrance, “for, after all,” said he, aloud, “no two stones are alike, and though I have met with one that was proof against argument, another may be less intractable in my hands.”

“There it is!” cried the Stone impatiently; “no two stones alike!—that’s your foolish mistake, your ignorance. I tell you that there is no difference between one stone and another: I am just as good as any stone in the wall, and I insist on my prerogatives.”

“Hoity-toity!” exclaimed the mason, “but you are a sturdy beggar! Will you be condescending enough to define your prerogatives? I will thank you to tell me briefly how you would have me dispose of you.”

“I want to be a corner-stone, then,” said the rebel, “and a corner-stone I will be. I stand on my rights: all stones are equal; so, quick!—let me occupy a position in the corner.”

“That you cannot do, my friend,” returned the mason: “don’t you see that the corner-stones are already in their places?”

“I see that well enough,” said the Stone; “but you can take one of them out, and install me in its place. I have as clear a right to be there as any of them: equality is the badge of us all: every one of us is from a common quarry: we are all stones alike. Take one of them out, and put me in.”

“Now, see how grossly inconsistent you are!” urged the workman: “all stones, you assert, are equal, and have the same rights: yet you would have me rudely displace and degrade one of them for your pleasure, though, according to your own acknowledgment, you are not a bit better than he is! Upon my word, but you have enlightened conceptions of what constitutes equality. But I cannot stand here arguing the question with you all day; my time is precious; I beg you will decide whether you are satisfied to form part of the wall or not.”

“Assuredly I am,” said the other, “but only as a corner stone. How can you be so blind as not to see that we are all stones alike, and all therefore equal?”

“You are all stones alike,” replied the mason, “and so far equal, in a certain sense; but your equality consists merely in your being all liable to serve as wall-stones, not in your being all qualified for the place of corner-stones.”

“A truce with your slavish doctrines!” cried the malcontent; “either make of me a corner-stone, or build your wall without me.”

“Is that your final decision?” asked the mason. “I warn you not to trifle with me, for I cannot let my work wait for you any longer.”

“I have said it,” said the Stone. “I would see your wall trampled into dust, and the whole universe along with it, before I would surrender my great principle. Do what you please.”

“Go, then, refractory wronghead,” exclaimed the mason, “go and enjoy your equality where none will be likely to dispute it!” And so saying, he cast the Stone from him with a vigorous jerk; and the Stone, after it had completed its journey through the air, fell down, and from the force of its own gravitation sank several feet low into the bottom of a deep and slimy pool.

This was, for all historical purposes, the termination of its existence. What became of it in the pool ultimately, it is impossible to conjecture, for half a century has elapsed since; but as a total extinguisher was put upon its aspirations after notoriety by the accident, it is highly probable that if not worn quite away by the friction of the surrounding mud and water, it was at least gnawed to the core, in a moral sense, by its regrets for the folly of its past misconduct—regrets which we may suppose to have been shared in a pretty equal degree by its twin-brother of the preceding year, which had stickled so stoutly in its colloquy with the mason for its favourite theory of liberty and independence.