Tales and Novels of J. de La Fontaine

In Short

This collection presents two narrative poems, "The Falcon" and "The Little Dog," that blend the lighthearted wit of the fable with the darker complexity of the novella. Through stories of desperate lovers, jealous husbands, and magical creatures, the writing examines the intersection of greed and romance. These tales have endured because they do not rely on moralizing; instead, they observe human behavior with a detached, often mischievous gaze, acknowledging that while virtue is praised, it is frequently bypassed in favor of passion and material gain.

The Story

In "The Falcon," Frederick, a young man of noble standing, squanders his entire fortune attempting to win the favor of the beautiful, indifferent Clytia. By the time he has sold his manors and lands, he is reduced to living in a meager farmhouse with a single servant and his prized falcon. Clytia remains unimpressed until, years later, her young son falls deathly ill and becomes obsessed with owning Frederick’s bird. Despite her past cruelty, she visits Frederick’s hovel to beg for the falcon, hoping it will save her child. Overwhelmed by her presence, and having nothing else to offer, Frederick serves the bird as a dinner for his guest. When she learns the truth, she is moved by his sacrifice. Though the child dies, time and shared grief eventually bring the pair together, and she marries Frederick, not merely out of love, but because she recognizes the debt she owes his devotion.

"The Little Dog" shifts to a sharper, more fantastical register. Anselm, an elderly, jealous judge, leaves his young wife, Argia, to go on a diplomatic mission, warning her against the advances of suitors and the corrupting power of gifts. Among her persistent admirers is Atis, a knight who, in his poverty, encounters a fairy disguised as a snake. She offers him her aid; she will transform into a magical dog that provides unlimited wealth to whomever possesses it. Atis assumes the guise of a pilgrim, and together they manipulate Argia’s household. Argia, initially virtuous, is slowly worn down by the dog’s magical allure and the pilgrim's charm. She eventually admits Atis into her bed. When Anselm returns, he discovers the betrayal and attempts to have his wife murdered. The magical dog intervenes, shielding Argia with a palace of illusions. Anselm is transformed into a subservient page boy by the fairy, forced to endure the humiliation of his own jealousy. In the end, the judge is brought to heel, and a fragile, wary truce is established between the couple, though the dog remains a lingering, disruptive presence.

How It Unfolds

The sacrifice of status Frederick strips away his social identity, selling family estates and manors to fund a lifestyle that might win a woman’s cold heart. He eventually reaches the absolute limit of his resources, retaining only the bird that serves as his final link to his former self.

The unexpected petition Clytia’s visit forces a confrontation between the past's extravagance and the present's poverty. The meal of the falcon serves as a grim, quiet climax, proving that the ultimate gesture of love is the destruction of one's last possession.

The test of the threshold Anselm’s departure sets the stage for the classic conflict between marital duty and external temptation. He leaves Argia with the keys to his fortune, not realizing he has provided the very fuel that will burn his own domestic security.

The intrusion of the magical Atis and his supernatural companion bridge the gap between desire and access. The dog functions as a silent, powerful agent that renders the judge’s warnings irrelevant, turning every moral objection into an opportunity for exchange.

The reversal of power The final movement sees the judge stripped of his authority and dignity, forced into the role of a page. The story concludes not with a clean moral resolution, but with a cynical arrangement where social status is revealed as a flimsy performance.

The People

Frederick is a man defined by his lack of restraint. He represents the romantic idealist who believes that total material surrender is a valid currency for affection. His evolution is one of depletion; he ends the story not as a wealthy suitor, but as a man who has learned the heavy price of his own obsession.

Clytia is a figure of shifting motivations. Initially a cold object of desire, she is defined by her maternal instinct, which eventually forces her to acknowledge Frederick’s worth. She does not change her essential nature, but she does adjust her pragmatic view of who is owed her hand.

Anselm serves as the archetype of the insecure, aged husband. His jealousy is his defining trait, and his undoing is his assumption that his wealth and social position are enough to guarantee his wife’s fidelity. By the end, he is broken, reduced to a submissive servant who must accept his wife’s infidelity to keep his own reputation intact.

Argia begins as the dutiful, albeit pressured, wife. Her character arc is a steady descent into the realization that her husband’s moralizing is merely a mask for his own impotence. She emerges as a survivor who learns how to weaponize the very temptations her husband feared.

In Its Own Voice

"If she amusements wished, he'd lavish gold, Convinced in love or war you should be bold;"

This observation captures Frederick’s tragic misconception that affection can be bought through an endless display of wealth.

"To have my wish, three words alone I use, Its paw I squeeze, and whatsoe'er I choose, Of gold, or jewels, fall upon the ground;"

The pilgrim explains the mechanism of the magical dog, framing the corruption of Argia as a simple transaction of material desire.

"The key, which opes the chest of hoarded gold, Unlocks the heart that favours would withhold."

This opening couplet serves as the central thesis of the tales, positing that money is the most effective instrument for bypassing moral resistance.

What It's Really About

These tales investigate the thin veneer of social respectability. The primary argument is that love, in this world, is inextricably bound to the exchange of property and the display of power. The author poses uncomfortable questions about whether virtue is ever truly independent of circumstance: is Argia moral because she is good, or because she has not yet been offered a sufficiently magical temptation? The stories suggest that human relationships are rarely pure, functioning instead as a series of negotiations where jealousy and greed are the primary negotiators. Ultimately, the book argues that attempts to control the desires of others are doomed to fail, often resulting in the very humiliation the jealous party sought to avoid.

Why Read It Today

Readers who appreciate the sharp, unsentimental observations of 17th-century French literature will find much to admire here. The writing is precise and often biting, eschewing the flowery language of contemporary romance for a more clinical, occasionally acerbic, look at human nature. It feels remarkably modern in its cynicism; the author is clearly more interested in the messy, transactional reality of human connections than in any idealized portrait of virtue.

However, the reader should be prepared for the period-specific attitudes regarding gender and class. The women are often depicted as either prizes to be won or potential sources of betrayal, and the "magical" solutions to their dilemmas reflect a worldview where agency is often tied to the possession of wealth. The narrative style—relying on extended verse—requires a patient ear, and the pacing occasionally pauses for long philosophical asides that may feel like a distraction from the plot. Nevertheless, for those who prefer their stories with a touch of dark irony, the book remains a fascinating look at the enduring power of greed and the fragility of trust. It is not a comforting read, but it is an honest one, leaving the reader with the lingering, cynical realization that even the most sacred vows are subject to the pressures of the material world.