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A man worthy to serue any prince, and most vilely vsed. But as the king of Portugall too late repented him that he had so punished Pinteado, vpon malicious informations of such as enuied the mans good fortune: euen so may it hereby appeare that in some cases euen Lions themselues may either be hindered by the contempt, or aided by the helpe of the poore mise, according vnto the fable of Esope.
Their attitude was that of pure reaction against "the impudence," as Montaigne says, "of those who profess knowledge and their overweening presumption!" The self-styled skeptics of the Esope review were at heart men of the firmest faith. But their mask of irony and haughty ignorance, naturally enough, had small attraction for the public: rather it repelled.
The scornful Pyrrhonism in which the Esope clothed itself could only be acceptable to a few minds "aeme sdegnose," who knew the solid worth beneath it. It was force absolutely lost upon action and life. There was no help for it. The more democratic France became, the more aristocratic did her ideas, her art, her science seem to grow.
We may also add to it the part of Esope a la cour, in the comedy of that name by BOURSAULT, which he plays or recites in great perfection, because it is composed of fables only. MONVEL delivers them with neatness and simplicity. For this part he has no equal in France. MONVEL is author as well as actor.
In the district round the house among the best of the people Christophe found the same moral solitude even when the people were banded together. Olivier had brought him in touch with a little review for which he wrote. It was called Esope, and had taken for its motto this quotation from Montaigne: "AEsop was put up for sale with two other staves.
This well-known story occurs first in the fables of Phædrus, though not in the extant form, only being preserved in the mediæval prose version known as Romulus. It is told in Caxton's Esope, p. 62, from whom I have borrowed a few touches. He calls his hero Androclus, whereas Painter, in his Palace of Pleasure, ed. Jacobs, i., 89-90, calls the slave Androdus. We moderns, including Mr.
Why even on your Esope review, in which you profess not to be taken in by anything, I have found unhappy young men persuading themselves that they love an art and ideas for which they have not a vestige of love. They get drunk on it, without any sort of pleasure, simply because they are told to do so: and they are dying of boredom boredom with the monstrous lie of the whole thing!"
Even when men who thought highly of each other were united in some common task, like Olivier and his colleagues on the Esope review, they always seemed to be on their guard with each other: they had nothing of that open-handed geniality so common in Germany, where it is apt to become a nuisance.
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