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Updated: June 10, 2025
It is less offensive than the mature, corrosive sullenness of the Englishman; but it is the same thing. "The French foot-guards are dressed in blue and all the marching regiments in white; which has a very foolish appearance. And as for blue regimentals, it is only fit for the blue horse or the Artillery," says the footman in Moore's Zeluco.
Henry Mackenzie, an Edinburgh advocate, in three books the names of which at least are famous, while his friend Sir Walter has preserved the books themselves in the collection so often mentioned produced, in his own youth and in rapid succession, The Man of Feeling , The Man of the World , and Julia de Roubigné . John Moore, a Glasgow physician, wrote, when he was nearly sixty, the novel of Zeluco and followed it up with Edward ten years afterwards and Mordaunt . Mackenzie did good work later in the periodical essay: but his fiction is chiefly the "sensibility"-novel of the French and of Sterne, reduced to the absolutely absurd.
Prince Puckler Muskaw was, very properly, turned out of the Travellers' Club for throwing a fork at one of the waiters. In the house of another, or when there is any company present in your own, never converse with the servants. This most vulgar, but not uncommon, habit, is judiciously censured in that best of novels, the Zeluco of Dr. Moore. Fashion is a tyranny founded only on assumption.
Those of the travelers who wrote books never failed to devote a chapter to an account of a visit to Ferney; and from the mass of such descriptions we may select for quotation that written, in the stately style of the period, by Dr. John Moore, author of "Zeluco," then making the grand tour as tutor to the Duke of Hamilton.
Miss Fanshaw had now resumed her company face and attitude; she sat in prudent silence, whilst Lady N addressed her conversation to Isabella and Matilda, whose thoughts did not seem to be totally engrossed by their own persons. Dr. X had prepared this lady to think favourably of Mad. de Rosier's pupils, by the account which he had given her of Isabella's remarks upon Zeluco.
It is worth noticing that the French people in general did not regard the power of arbitrary imprisonment exercised by their kings as a grievance. In their eyes it was one of his most natural prerogatives. A year or two before the time of which we are speaking, Dr. Moore, the author of "Zeluco," and father of Sir John Moore, who fell at Corunna, was traveling in France, and was present at a party of French merchants and others of the same rank, who asked him many questions about the English Constitution, When he said that the King of England could not impose a tax by his own authority, "they said, with some degree of satisfaction, 'Cependant c'est assez beau cela."... But when he informed them "that the king himself had not the power to encroach upon the liberty of the meanest of his subjects, and that if he or the minister did so, damages were recoverable in a court of law, a loud and prolonged 'Diable! issued from every mouth. They forgot their own situation, and turned to their natural bias of sympathy with the king, who, they all seemed to think, must be the most oppressed and injured of manhood. One of them at last, addressing himself to the English politician, said, 'Tout ce que je puis vous dire, monsieur, c'est que votre pauvre roi est bien
By the way, how much is every honest heart, which has a tincture of Caledonian prejudice, obliged to you for your glorious story of Buchanan and Targe! 'Twas an unequivocal proof of your loyal gallantry of soul giving Targe the victory. I should have been mortified to the ground if you had not. I have just read over, once more of many times, your Zeluco.
Once an age, once in half-a-dozen ages, nature may make a Brinvilliers, or art allow of a Zeluco; but, in general, monsters are mere fabulous creatures mistakes often, from bad drawings, like the unicorn." "Yes, mamma, yes; now I feel much more comfortable. The unicorn has convinced me," said Lady Cecilia, laughing and singing ''Tis all a mere fable; there's nothing to fear.
We so far emulate the critical sagacity of the gardener in "Zeluco," that we have learned to distinguish St. Laurence by his gridiron, and St. Catherine by her wheel. We are not at a loss to recognise the Magdalene's "loose hair and lifted eye," even when without her skull and her vase of ointment. We learn to know St.
He hurried to the Hermitage, which stood in the heart of the wood, unlocked the door with a hasty wrench, slammed it after him, pitched Zeluco into the most distant corner, and thrusting his right hand into his pocket, first walked four or five times up and down the scanty length of the little room, and then seated himself on the ottoman in an uncomfortable stiff way, as we often do when we wish not to abandon ourselves to feeling.
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