Fables and Fabulists: Ancient and Modern — Story, Setting & Ideas

Defining the Fable's Domain

Newbigging devotes his first chapter to a precise definition, separating fable from myth and romance. He insists that the fabulist's art is 'altogether unassisted by superstition,' relying instead on the imaginative conferral of speech and reason upon animals or objects. This framework recurs throughout: the author is at pains to distinguish the 'Attic' conciseness of Æsop from the florid Eastern style, and to defend the originality of fabulists against claims of mere borrowing. He acknowledges that 'about a dozen' Æsopian fables have Eastern counterparts but argues that such parallels are inevitable given shared human ideas.

Æsop, Planudes, and the Problem of Origins

The chapters on Æsop confront the legendary biography by Planudes, which Newbigging dismisses as a 'misconception' from the fourteenth century. He notes that the supposed physical similarity between Æsop and the Eastern sage Locman collapses once Planudes's invention is set aside. The author's method is comparative: he weighs chronological difficulties and stylistic evidence, concluding that Æsopian fables are 'essentially Attic' in diction. The discussion is cautious, refusing to settle questions of priority but highlighting the 'perplexing' nature of the evidence.

The Moral as a Double-Edged Tool

Newbigging examines the moral and application of fables, treating them as instruments of social censure. He quotes Mrs. Jameson's reflection on the Jesus-and-dead-dog story, where she admits that seeking beauty in the repulsive nearly 'subverted hatred of evil.' This self-critical note is rare in the excerpts: the fabulist's moral lesson can cut both ways, softening judgment or blurring ethical lines. Newbigging also cites Leopardi's observation that infancy is the 'fabulous season' of both individuals and nations, linking the fable's appeal to a developmental stage of culture.

Newbigging's survey is less a narrative history than a series of comparative essays, each testing a definition or a claim against specific examples. Readers will find the most value in his careful distinctions—between Greek and Eastern styles, between fable and myth, between moral instruction and its unintended consequences. The excerpts suggest a work that rewards attention to its taxonomic structure and its willingness to let quoted voices, like Mrs. Jameson's, complicate the author's own arguments.

That afternoon, the rain blurred the window into grey silk while Newbigging traced how fables used wit as a scalpel against authority. Yet what lingered was his admiration for Eastern fables, where the moral dissolves into wonder rather than instruction. Setting the book aside, I found myself reaching for The Literature of Ecstasy — Key Ideas to Explore, as if one whisper had simply led to another.