The League Of Rats (Prose Fable)

There was once a mouse who lived in terrible fear of a cat that had lain in wait watching for her. She was in great anxiety to know what she could do to escape the threatening danger.

Being prudent and wise she consulted her neighbour, a large and important rat. His lordship the rat had taken up his abode in a very good inn, and had boasted a hundred times that he had no fear for either tom-cat or she-cat. Neither teeth nor claws caused him any anxious thought.

"Dame Mouse," said this boaster, "whatever I do, I cannot, upon my word, chase away this cat that threatens you without some help. But let me call together all the rats hereabouts and I'll play him a sorry trick or two."

The mouse curtsied humbly her thanks and the rat ran with speed to the head-quarters; that is to say to the larder, where the rats were in the habit of assembling. Arriving out of breath and perturbed in mind he found them making a great feast at the expense of their host.

"What ails you?" asked one of the feasters. "Speak!"

"In two words," answered he, "the reason for my coming among you in this way is simply that it has become absolutely necessary to help the mice; for Grimalkin is abroad making terrible slaughter among them. This, the most devilish of cats, will, when she has no mice left, turn her attention to the eating of rats."

"He says what is true," cried they all. "To arms, to arms!" Nothing could stem the tide of their impetuosity; although, it is said, a few she-rats shed tears. It was no matter. Every one overhauled his equipment, and filled his wallet with cheese. To risk life was the determination of all. They set off, as if to a fête, with happy minds and joyful hearts.

Alas, for the mouse! These warriors were a moment too late. The cat had her already by the head. Advancing at the double the rats ran to the succour of their good little friend; but the cat swore, and stalked away in front of the enemy, having no intention of surrendering her prey.

At the sound of the cat's defiance, the prudent rats, fearing ill fate, beat a safe retreat without carrying any further their intended onslaught. Each one ran to his hole, and whenever any ventured out again it was always with the utmost caution to avoid the cat.

Jean de La Fontaine

Jean de La Fontaine was a renowned French fabulist and poet. Born on July 8, 1621, he is best known for his 'Fables,' which have been admired for their witty and insightful depiction of human nature and society. La Fontaine's fables are considered classics of French literature and have had a long-lasting impact on both the literary world and popular culture. He passed away on April 13, 1695.

Jean de La Fontaine

Death And The Dying.

Jean de La Fontaine, Simple Poetry

The Man Between Two Ages, And His Two Mistresses.[1]

Jean de La Fontaine, Simple Poetry

The Animals Sick Of The Plague.

Jean de La Fontaine, Simple Poetry

The Avaricious Wife And Tricking Gallant

Jean de La Fontaine, Simple Poetry

English

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The League Of The Rats.

A mouse was once in mortal fear
Of a cat that watch'd her portal near.
What could be done in such a case?
With prudent care she left the catship,
And courted, with a humble grace,
A neighbour of a higher race,
Whose lordship - I should say his ratship -
Lay in a great hotel;
And who had boasted oft, 'tis said,
Of living wholly without dread.
'Well,' said this braggart, 'well,
Dame Mouse, what should I do?
Alone I cannot rout
The foe that threatens you.
I'll rally all the rats about,
And then I'll play him such a trick!'
The mouse her court'sy dropp'd,
And off the hero scamper'd quick,
Nor till he reach'd the buttery stopp'd,
Where scores of rats were clustered,
In riotous extravagance,
All feasting at the host's expense.
To him, a...

Jean de La Fontaine

The Cat And The Old Rat.

^[1]

A story-writer of our sort
Historifies, in short,
Of one that may be reckon'd
A Rodilard the Second, - ^[2]
The Alexander of the cats,
The Attila,^[3] the scourge of rats,
Whose fierce and whisker'd head
Among the latter spread,
A league around, its dread;
Who seem'd, indeed, determined
The world should be unvermined.
The planks with props more false than slim,
The tempting heaps of poison'd meal,
The traps of wire and traps of steel,
Were only play compared with him.
At length, so sadly were they scared.
The rats and mice no longer dared
To show their thievish faces
Outside their hiding-places,
Thus shunning all pursuit; whereat
Our crafty General Cat
Contrived to hang himself, as dead,

Jean de La Fontaine

The Council Held By The Rats

^[1]

Old Rodilard,^[2] a certain cat,
Such havoc of the rats had made,
'Twas difficult to find a rat
With nature's debt unpaid.
The few that did remain,
To leave their holes afraid,
From usual food abstain,
Not eating half their fill.
And wonder no one will
That one who made of rats his revel,
With rats pass'd not for cat, but devil.
Now, on a day, this dread rat-eater,
Who had a wife, went out to meet her;
And while he held his caterwauling,
The unkill'd rats, their chapter calling,
Discuss'd the point, in grave debate,
How they might shun impending fate.
Their dean, a prudent rat,
Thought best, and better soon than late,
To bell the fatal cat;
That, when he took his hunting round,
The rats, well caution...

Jean de La Fontaine

The Battle Of The Rats And The Weasels.

^[1]

The weasels live, no more than cats,
On terms of friendship with the rats;
And, were it not that these
Through doors contrive to squeeze
Too narrow for their foes,
The animals long-snouted
Would long ago have routed,
And from the planet scouted
Their race, as I suppose.

One year it did betide,
When they were multiplied,
An army took the field
Of rats, with spear and shield,
Whose crowded ranks led on
A king named Ratapon.
The weasels, too, their banner
Unfurl'd in warlike manner.
As Fame her trumpet sounds,
The victory balanced well;
Enrich'd were fallow grounds
Where slaughter'd legions fell;
But by said trollop's tattle,
The loss of life in battle
Thinn'd most the rattish race
In almost ...

Jean de La Fontaine

The War Of The Rats And Mice.

Far back within an age remote,
    Which common history fails to note,
When dogs could talk, and pigs could sing,
    And frogs obeyed a wooden king,
There lived a tribe of rats so mean,
    That such a set was never seen.
For during all the livelong day
    They fought and quarrelled in the hay,
And then at night they robbed the mice,
    Who always were so kind and nice.
They stole their bread, they stole their meat,
    And all the jam they had to eat;
They gobbled up their pies and cake,
    And everything the mice could bake;
They stuffed themselves with good fresh meal,
    And ruined all they could not steal;
They slapped their long tails in the butter
    Until they made a frightful splutter;
Then, sleek and fine in coats of silk,
    Th...

Edwin C. Ranck

The Cat And The Rat.

^[1]

Four creatures, wont to prowl, -
Sly Grab-and-Snatch, the cat,
Grave Evil-bode, the owl,
Thief Nibble-stitch, the rat,
And Madam Weasel, prim and fine, -
Inhabited a rotten pine.
A man their home discover'd there,
And set, one night, a cunning snare.
The cat, a noted early-riser,
Went forth, at break of day,
To hunt her usual prey.
Not much the wiser
For morning's feeble ray,
The noose did suddenly surprise her.
Waked by her strangling cry,
Grey Nibble-stitch drew nigh:
As full of joy was he
As of despair was she,
For in the noose he saw
His foe of mortal paw.
'Dear friend,' said Mrs. Grab-and-Snatch,
'Do, pray, this cursed cord detach.
I've always known your skill,
And often your good-will;
Now...

Jean de La Fontaine