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Updated: May 14, 2025
Black ... the costume of an author. See note below. Lighter colour. Here the London Magazine had: "a pea-green coat, for instance, like the bridegroom." A lucky apologue. I do not find this fable; but Lamb's father, in his volume of poems, described in a note on page 381, has something in the same manner in his ballad "The Sparrow's Wedding":
The mission of woman, about which we are pretty weary of hearing, is not accomplished by any means in her years of vernal bloom and loveliness; she has equal power to bless and sweeten life in the autumn of her pilgrimage. But here is an apologue: The peach, from blossom to maturity, is the most attractive of fruits.
It is that touching apologue, with its profound ethical sense, of the woman taken in adultery which, if internal evidence were an infallible guide, might well be affirmed to be a typical example of the teaching of Jesus. Yet, say the revisers, pitilessly, "Most of the ancient authorities omit John vii. 53 viii. 11."
The two princes whose titles were allowed have torn Poland limb from limb; it is now absorbed in Russia and Prussia. The second great mistake made by Poland was in not remembering the apologue of the man and the horse when the question of protection presented itself. The Republic of Rome became mistress of the world by protecting other nations.
By way of an apologue for the aged, when they feel more than usually tempted to offer their advice, let me recommend the following little tale. He was thirteen; already he had been taunted for dallying over-long about the playbox; he had to blush if he was found among his lead soldiers; the shades of the prison-house were closing about him with a vengeance.
Such is my Apologue, Socrates, and such is the argument by which I endeavour to show that virtue may be taught, and that this is the opinion of the Athenians.
The centuries are conspirators against the sanity and majesty of the soul. Time and space are but physiological colors which the eye maketh, but the soul is light; where it is, is day; where it was, is night; and history is an impertinence and an injury if it be any thing more than a cheerful apologue or parable of my being and becoming.
The Prior recovered from this difficulty only to fall into another, by publishing what he called an apologue, in which he charged that the reconciled nobles were equally false to the royal and to the rebel government, and that, although "the fatted calf had been killed for them, after they had so long been feeding with perverse heretical pigs," they were, in truth, as mutinous as ever, being bent upon establishing an oligarchy in the Netherlands, and dividing the territory among themselves, to the exclusion of the sovereign.
My small friend was, in fact, very like the principal modern thinkers; only much nicer. In the little apologue or parable which he has thus the honour of inventing, the trees stand for all visible things and the wind for the invisible. The wind is the spirit which bloweth where it listeth; the trees are the material things of the world which are blown where the spirit lists.
The centuries are conspirators against the sanity and authority of the soul. Time and space are but physiological colors which the eye makes, but the soul is light; where it is, is day; where it was, is night; and history is an impertinence and an injury, if it be anything more than a cheerful apologue or parable of my being and becoming.
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