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Updated: June 25, 2025
Peter Amy did in like manner explore and make trial if he should escape the ambush of the hobgoblins who lay in wait all-to-bemaul him, he fell upon this verse in the Third of the Aeneids Heu! fuge crudeles terras, fuge littus avarum! Oh, flee the bloody land, the wicked shore! Which counsel he obeying, safe and sound forthwith avoided all these ambuscades.
As for the erratic and exquisite genius, Simon Fuge, and his odalisques reclining on silken cushions on the enchanted bosom of a lake I could no longer conjure them up even faintly in my mind. 'I suppose you know Simon Fuge is dead? I remarked, in a pause. 'No! Is he? said Mr Brindley, with interest. 'Is it in the paper? He did not seem to be quite sure that it would be in the paper.
A conversation ensued; and amid the rumbling of trains and the rough stir of the platform we got back again to Simon Fuge, and Mr Brindley's tone gradually grew, if not acrid, a little impatient. 'After all, he said, 'rates are rates, especially in Hanbridge. And let me tell you that last season Knype Football Club jolly nearly got thrown out of the First League.
'When we were safely off, someone came down to the shore and shouted to Mr Fuge to bring the boat back. Awful feud! Fact is, I'm in a hostile country here!" And a lot more like that. It seemed he had quarrelled with everybody in Ilam. He wasn't sure if the landlord of the hotel would let him sleep there again. He told us all about all his quarrels, until he dropped one of the oars.
'Talking of Simon Fuge, I said determined to satisfy my curiosity, 'who WERE the two sisters? 'What two sisters? 'That he spent the night in the boat with, on Ilam Lake. 'Was that in the Gazette? I didn't read all the article. He changed abruptly into the Sword motive, which he gave with a violent flourish, and then he left the piano. 'I do beg you not to wake my children, said his wife.
The bourgeoisie tirelessly shouted to the revolution, in the language of St. Orsenius to the Christians: "Fuge, Tace, Quiesce!" flee, be silent, submit! ; Bonaparte shouts to the bourgeoisie: "Fuge, Tace, Oniesce!" flee, be silent, submit! That republic lost nothing but the appearance of decency. The France of to-day was ready-made within the womb of the Parliamentary republic.
I am not going to lose my sense of perspective concerning Simon Fuge. He was not the greatest painter that ever lived, or even of his time. He had, I am ready to believe, very grave limitations. But he was a painter by himself, as all fine painters are. He had his own vision. He was Unique. He was exclusively preoccupied with the beauty and the romance of the authentic.
'Yes, Mrs Colclough resumed, in a lower, more confidential tone, to the accompaniment of the music. 'You see, there was a whole party of us there, and Mr Fuge was staying at the hotel, and of course he knew several of us. 'And he took you out in a boat? 'Me and Annie? Yes. Just as it was getting dusk he came up to us and asked us if we'd go for a row. Eh, I can hear him asking us now!
Now, close by this poster was the poster of the DAILY TELEGRAPH, and among the items offered by the DAILY TELEGRAPH was: 'Death of Simon Fuge'. I could not forbear pointing out to Mr Brindley the difference between the two posters.
Most characteristic of all are the half-Greek formations, such as -ferritribax-, -plagipatida-, -pugilice-, or in the -Miles Gloriosus- : -Fuge! euscheme hercle astitit sic dulice et comoedice! III. VIII. Greece Free
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