Unknown The World's Greatest Books - Volume 01 - Fiction

1. Auflage 2015
ISBN: 978-3-95676-740-1
Verlag: OTB eBook publishing
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: 0 - No protection

E-Book, Englisch, 263 Seiten

“The World's Greatest Books — Volume 01”. An enterprise such as THE WORLD'S GREATEST BOOKS is to be judged from two different standpoints. It may be judged with respect to its specific achievement--the material of which it consists, or it may be judged with regard to its general utility in the scheme of literature to which it belongs. In an age which is sometimes ironically called 'remarkable' for its commercialism, nothing has been more truly remarkable than the advancement in learning as well as in material progress, and of all the instruments that have contributed to this end, none has been more effective, perhaps, than the practical popularisation of literature. In THE WORLD'S GREATEST BOOKS an attempt has been made to effect a compendium of the world's best literature in a form that shall be at once accessible to every one and still faithful to its originals, or, in other words, it has been sought to allow the original author to tell his own story over again in his own language, but in the shortest possible space. However, we are aware that even THE WORLD'S GREATEST BOOKS will not escape the criticism of a small class of people who will profess to object to this, as to any kind of interference with an author's original--in reply to which it can only be said that such objections are seldom, if ever, made in the true interests of learning, or in a genuine spirit of inquiry, and too often only proceed from a knowledge of books or love of them which goes no deeper than their title-page. The selections in THE WORLD'S GREATEST BOOKS have been collected, and are alphabetically arranged, in ten different divisions,--namely, Fiction, Lives and Letters, History, Religion, Philosophy, Economics, Science, Poetry and Drama, Travel and Adventure and Miscellaneous Literature. An important additional feature of the work is the brief, yet highly critical biographical and bibliographical note which accompanies every author and every selection throughout the twenty volumes. To this must be also added the not less important Introductories, and other explanations written by experts, which often accompany the selections in the text--cardinal examples of which will be found in particular in the section of Religion of this work, in the articles dealing with such subjects as the Book of the Dead, Brahmanism, Confucianism, the Koran, Talmud, etc.

Autoren/Hrsg.

Unknown

Leseproben

EDMOND ABOUT
The King of the Mountains
Edmond About was the son of a grocer at Dieuze, in Lorraine, France, where he was born Feb. 14, 1828. Even in childhood he displayed the vivacity of mind and the irreverent spirit which were to make him the most entertaining anti-clerical writer of his period. His tales have the qualities of the best writing of the eighteenth century, enhanced by the modern interest of his own century. "The King of the Mountains" is the best-known of his novels, as it is also the best. In 1854 About was working as a poor archaeologist at the French School at Athens, where he noticed there was a curious understanding between the brigands and the police of modern Hellas. Brigandage was becoming a safe and almost a respectable Greek industry. "Why not make it quite respectable and regular?" said About. "Why does not some brigand chief, with a good connection, convert his business into a properly registered joint-stock company?" So he produced, in 1856, one of the most delightful of satirical novels, "The King of the Mountains." Edmond About died on January 17, 1885, shortly after his election to the French Academy. I.--The Brigand and His Business I am no coward; still, I have some regard for my life. It is a present I received from my parents, and I wish to preserve it as long as possible in remembrance of them. So, on my arrival at Athens, in April, 1856, I refrained from going into the country. Had the director of the Hamburg Botanical Gardens said to me when I left Germany: "My dear Hermann Schultz, I want you to go to Greece and draw up a report on the remarkable system of brigandage obtaining in that land," I might bravely have begun by going for a ride outside Athens, as my American friends, John Harris and William Lobster, did. But I had merely been sent, at a salary of £10 a month, to collect the rarer specimens of the flora of Greece. I therefore began by studying the native plants in the royal gardens; and put off the work of searching for new species and varieties. John Harris and William Lobster, who lodged with me at the shop of the pastry cook, Christodulos, in Hermes Street, were persons of a more adventurous temperament. Borrowing the only two horses that Christodulos possessed, they rode out into the country. But they had scarcely gone a mile when they were stopped by a band of brigands, and urgently invited to pay a visit to the King of the Mountains. The Americans refused to go, as the King of the Mountains had an unkindly way of holding his visitors to large ransoms, and killing them if the money were not quickly paid. But the brigands--there were fourteen of them--insisted, and got out ropes and began to bind their captives. Neither Harris nor Lobster was made of the kind of wood of which faggots are composed. They drew their revolvers, and used them with astonishing effect. They lost the horses, but got safely back to Athens. "I suppose I mustn't grumble over two horses," said Christodulos. "I served under Hadgi Stavros, the King of the Mountains, in the War of Independence, and earned enough money to set up in business." Then, over a bottle of Santorin wine, Christodulos related the story of the great brigand chief. Hadgi Stavros was by far the most popular leader among the insurgent Greeks. His hatred of the Turks did not blind him to such a point that he passed through a Greek village without plundering it. A vigorous impartiality enabled him to advance his fame by increasing his wealth. Lord Byron dedicated an ode to him, and sympathisers with the Greek cause throughout Europe sent him subsidies. The result was that when Greece was at last liberated from the Turks, Hadgi Stavros returned to his old trade with a large capital, and a genius for organisation which enabled him to revolutionise the business of brigandage. He entered into arrangements with army officers and politicians, and saw to it that his allies were entrusted with the government of his free, enlightened and progressive country. "But the pity of it is," continued our honest host, "that poor Hadgi Stavros is growing very old and has no son to succeed him. For the sake of his only daughter, he is investing all his wealth in foreign stocks and shares, instead of using it to extend his business." "I say, I should be glad of an introduction to Miss Stavros," said John Harris. "I wouldn't mind throwing up my job as captain of the Fancy, now lying at the Piraeus, in order to marry the richest heiress in Greece. Do you think it is worth getting captured for the sake of meeting her?" As Christodulos was about to reply, the shop-bell rang, and a young lady entered. Like nine out of ten Athenian girls, she had plain features. Her teeth were white and even, and her hair was beautiful; but that was all. Happily, in this world of ours, the ugliest little goose generally finds some honest gander to admire her. Dimitri, the son of the pastry cook, ran forward with a cry of delight, exclaiming, "It's Photini!" "Gentlemen, let us talk of something else," whispered Christodulos. "We must not alarm this charming girl with tales about brigands." He then introduced Photini to us. She was, it appeared, the daughter of one of his old companions-in-arms, Colonel John. Colonel John was apparently a man of means, for Photini was very fashionably dressed, and she was being educated at the best boarding-school in Athens. Her father had asked his old friend to allow Photini to come and chat with us, and improve Her knowledge of French and German. The girl, however, was too timid to enter into conversation, and, to judge by the direction of her glances, it was not French or German that she would have liked to speak if she could, but English. John Harris, I admit, is a very good-looking man; but the way Photini began to devour him with her eyes, astonished me. I was sitting next to her at table; but she did not utter a word till the end of the meal. Then she asked if he were married. "No, he isn't," I replied, adding with a touch of malice, "I think he would be glad of an introduction to you." For something had occurred which made me suspect that she was the richest heiress in Greece. During the meal, Dimitri came running in with a newspaper, and looking far from happy. "Hadgi Stavros has been defeated," he cried. "The troops have burnt his camp and broken up his army, and pursued him to the marshes of Marathon." "It's a lie!" shouted Christodulos, his face red with anger. "The King of the Mountains could take Athens if he wanted to, and cut the throat of every man in it." This, I thought, was strange language from an honest pastry cook, who was also a lieutenant in the militia. I was still more surprised when I turned to Photini, and saw that her face was wet with tears. "You see, my dear Harris," I said, when he and Lobster and I were talking the matter over in my bedroom, "you have soon got the introduction you wanted." "That ugly little over-dressed thing!" exclaimed Harris. "I wouldn't marry her to save my life." "Well, at all events," I said, "I shall be able to begin my botanical researches to-morrow, now that her excellent father has retired to his mountains." II.--The King of the Mountains Company, Limited The next morning, I strapped on my collecting-case, and explored Mount Parnassus. There I came upon Dimitri and two ladies. "The old woman is Mrs. Simons, English, very rich," said Dimitri to me. "The pretty girl is her daughter. I'm their guide. I chose this excursion in the hope of meeting you. But whatever is the matter with the women?" They shrieked, and stared, horror-stricken, at a clump of bushes. I looked in the same direction, and perceived half a dozen gun-barrels gleaming among the leaves. Then eight ruffians appeared; and I saw that the only difference between devils and brigands is that devils are less black than is said, and brigands much dirtier than is supposed. They took all our money and jewelery, and then allowed Dimitri to depart--I guessed why--and led the two ladies and myself down the hill, and up a winding path on to a high plateau, where Hadgi Stavros and his band were now encamped. The King of the Mountains was sitting, cross-legged, on a square carpet beneath a pine-tree, a little way from his noisy, crowded camp. Four secretaries were writing on their knees to his dictation. He was undoubtedly a man of majestic appearance. He had a fine figure--tall, supple, and marvelously preserved--and calm, noble features. The only indications of old age were his long white hair and long white moustaches. His dress was very simple--a jacket of black cloth, immense blue cotton trousers, large boots of Russian leather, and a loose red cap. A jeweled belt was the only costly thing he wore. He raised his head at our approach. "You are very welcome," he said with great gravity. "Please sit down while I finish dictating my letters." His servant brought us refreshments, consisting of coffee, Turkish delight, and preserved fruit. Having put us at our ease, the king went on with his correspondence. "This," he said, "is to Messrs. Barley and Co., 31 Cavendish Square, London." "Excuse me, sire," said his secretary, bending over and whispering in his ear. "What does it matter?" said the king in a haughty tone. "I've done nothing wrong. Let all the world come and listen if they want to. Now, take this down." And he dictated the following letter: "GENTLEMEN,--I observe by your note of April 5 that I now have £22,750 on current account. Please invest half of this sum in 3 per cent. Consols and...