The World\'s Greatest Books, Vol. I - Various
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THE WORLD'S GREATEST BOOKS, VOL. I
FICTION
JOINT EDITORS
ARTHUR MEE
Editor and Founder of the Book of Knowledge
J. A. HAMMERTON
Editor of Harmsworth's Universal Encyclopaedia
MCMX
Table of Contents
ABOUT, EDMOND
King of the Mountains
AINSWORTH, HARRISON
Tower of London
ANDERSEN, HANS
Improvisatore
APULEIUS
The Golden Ass
ARABIAN NIGHTS
AUCASSIN AND NICOLETTE
AUERBACH, BERTHOLD
On the Height
AUSTEN, JANE
Sense and Sensibility
Pride and Prejudice
Northanger Abbey
Mansfield Park
Emma
Persuasion
BALZAC, HONORE DE
Eugenie Grandet
Old Goriot
Magic Skin
Quest of the Absolute
BECKFORD, WILLIAM
History of the Caliph Vathek
BEHN, APHRA
Oroonoko
BERGERAC, CYRANO DE
Voyage to the Moon
BJOERNSON, BJOERNSTJERNE
Arne
In God's Way
BLACK, WILLIAM
Daughter of Heth
BLACKMORE, R.D.
Lorna Doone
BOCCACCIO
Decameron
A Complete Index of THE WORLD'S GREATEST BOOKS will be found at the end
of Volume XX.
INTRODUCTION
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.
Such a method differs entirely from all those in which an author is
represented, either by one or more _extracts_ from his work, or else by
a formal summary or criticism of it in a language not his own. And,
since the style and language of an original is what often constitutes
the wings upon which alone its thought will fly, to have access to its
thought without its form is too often to possess a skeleton without the
spirit which alone could animate it.
Notwithstanding this, 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.
For better than all books are the truths which books contain, and to
condense those truths into a form that makes them available is not only
to invest them with new powers and an enlarged range of usefulness, but
is also not necessarily to interfere with any of those essential
qualities that make up the exquisite literary flavor of a fine original.
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.
With respect to the selections themselves, it may be added that, even
where they are derived from foreign originals, they have often been
prepared from those originals rather than from any existing translations
of them, as in the fine translation of Catullus by Professor Wight Duff,
or the condensations from Euripides, Corneille, Kant, Tacitus, and very
many more. In other cases, again, the selections have been _specially
prepared for_ THE WORLD'S GREATEST BOOKS _by their authors_ or their
agents, such as the two selections by Major Martin Hume in History, by
Dr. Bramwell and Sir Francis Galton in Science, by Mr. Robert Hichens in
Fiction, etc. From this, and still more from the list of authors itself,
it will be found, we hope, that besides a completely modern aim, a
distinctly proper proportion of modern literature has found a place in
the work, and that the best of French, German, Scandinavian, Russian,
and other authors take rank in it with American and English, as do the
best of the ancients with the best among the moderns.
As the aim of THE WORLD'S GREATEST BOOKS has been directed first of all
towards those forms of literature which were in the most need of
condensation to make them readily available, it will not be expected
that the Poetry section of the work will contain the shorter kind of
poems. Moreover, even if the shortness of such poems and their general
accessibility in present-day anthologies did not render their inclusion
here a work of supererogation, it was felt that their place could be far
better filled in a work like the present by the world's best _dramatic_
literature,--as has been done. This does not apply, however, to
translations from the shorter poems of ancient classical literature,
which, however short they may be, cannot be said to be already generally
available for everyday reading.
Throughout, the claims of literature proper, or of fine writing, have
been intimately considered in conjunction with the claims of pure
learning, or of information, with the result, it is hoped, that to the
authority of the world's best thinkers is added the picturesqueness of
their fine writing. Plato, Spencer, Newton; Darwin, Haeckel, Virchow;
AEschylus, Shelley, Ibsen; Burton, Mandeville, Loti; or Brandes, Matthew
Arnold, and Demosthenes--from old and from modern times they yield up
their pearls.
The notion of finality, or of an utter inclusiveness, for such a work as
THE WORLD'S GREATEST BOOKS may be readily disclaimed. To set it up even
would seem ridiculous to any one acquainted with the enormous range of
the subject. Not so ridiculous, however, may seem the claim to have
established a standard and a form of achievement new in the annals of
literary production; and one, moreover, _whose importance as an
educative factor,_ no less than as a test of the special needs of the
era wherein we are living, may be as valid in its own way and in its own
time as some of those other contributions which have helped along the
revival of learning and of letters, from that first awakening of the
Renascence humanists down to our own day.
* * * * *
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 L10 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 L22,750 on current account. Please invest half of this
sum in 3 per cent. Consols and half in bearer bonds before the
coupons are detached. I shall be obliged if you will sell my
shares in the Bank of England, and put the proceeds in London
omnibuses. That will be a safe investment and, I think, a
profitable one. Your obedient servant,
"HADGI STAVROS.
"P. S. Oblige me by sending a hundred guineas to Messrs. Ralli
Brothers as my subscription towards the Hellenic School at
Liverpool."
Mrs. Simons, who, like her daughter, did not speak Greek, leaned towards
me.
"Mr. Schultz, is he dictating the terms of our ransom?" she asked.
"No, madam," I replied. "He is writing to his bankers."
Mrs. Simons turned to the box of Turkish delight. I found more pleasure
in listening to the king's business correspondence. It was
extraordinarily interesting.
The next letter was addressed to George Micrommati, Secretary of the
King of the Mountains Co., Ltd., the Courts of Justice, Athens.
"I am sorry to say," Hadgi Stavros dictated, "that the company's
operations have been much restricted owing to the bad harvest and to the
occupation of a part of our beloved land by foreign troops.
"Our gross receipts from May 1, 1855, to April 30, 1856, amount only to:
fr.
261,482
"While our expenses come to 135,482
----------
"Leaving fr. 126,000
Which I propose to divide as follows:
One-third of the profits payable to me as managing
director 40,000
Amount added to reserve fund at Bank of Athens 6,000
Amount available for dividend 80,000
----------
"Total fr. 126,000
"This comes to about 70 per cent, on our present capital of 120,000
francs. It is, I know, the lowest dividend we have paid since the
company was formed fourteen years ago. But the shareholders must
consider the difficulties we have had to struggle against. Our business
is so closely connected with the interests of the country that it can
only flourish in times of general prosperity. From those who have
nothing we can take nothing, or very little. The tourist season,
however, has opened very favourably, and the affairs of the company
will, I think, soon improve. I will send you a detailed statement in the
course of a few days. I am too busy now."
The king read over the letters, and affixed his seal to them. Then, with
royal courtesy, instead of having us brought before him on the carpet,
he came and sat down by our side. Mrs. Simons at once began to talk at
him in English. I offered to act as interpreter with a view to
protecting her from herself. The king, however, thanked me coldly, and
called to one of his brigands who knew English.
As I had foreseen, Mrs. Simons spoke very largely about her great wealth
and her high position. The result was that the king fixed her ransom and
that of Mary Ann at L4,000. I was determined that he should not
over-estimate my resources.
"It's no good putting a ransom on me," I exclaimed. "My father is a poor
German innkeeper who has been ruined by the railway. I've been forced to
leave home and come to Greece, where I earn a beggarly L10 a month."
"If that is so," said the king, very kindly, "you can return to Athens
at once, or stay here for a few days."
"I shall be happy to stay," I replied, "if you will return the
collecting-case your men took from me. I want to go botanising."
"What! You are a man of science!" cried the king joyfully. "Ah, how I
admire knowledge! Who sent you here to collect our plants? Some famous
university, I'll be bound."
"I'm collecting on behalf of the Hamburg Botanical Gardens," I answered.
"And do you think, my dear friend," said the king, "that a great
institution like the Hamburg Botanical Gardens would let a man of your
worth perish rather than pay his ransom of L600? Happy young man! You
now see the value of a sound, scientific education. Had you been an
utter ignoramus as I am, I wouldn't have asked the ransom of a penny."
The king listened neither to my objections nor to the cries of Mrs.
Simons. He rose up and departed; and one of his secretaries led us to a
plot of green sward, where a meal had been laid for us.
"The king has ordered everything to be done to make your sojourn as
pleasant as possible," he said. "He is sorry that his men were so
ill-mannered as to rob persons of your importance. Everything they took
will be returned to you. You have thirty days in which to pay your
ransom. Write to your friends without delay, as the king never grants an
extension of time."
"But if I can't get the money?" I asked.
"You will be killed," said the secretary.
I did not know what to do. I knew nobody with L100, much less L600. Then
I thought of John Harris.
"Tell Christodulos," I wrote, "that Hadgi Stavros won't let me go. If he
will not intercede for me, I leave myself, dear friend, in your hands. I
know you are a man of courage and imagination. You will find a way to
get me out of this fix."
All the same, I had very little hope; and Hadgi Stavros came up and
found me looking very gloomy.
"Courage, my boy," he said.
"You know I can't raise L600," I exclaimed. "It's simply murder."
"You're a young fool," said the King of the Mountains. "Were I in your
place, my ransom would be paid in two days. Don't you understand? Here
you have an opportunity of winning a charming wife and an immense
fortune."
Mary Ann was sitting with her mother outside one of the caves in the
rocky enclosure, which were to serve as bedrooms. Close at hand was a
stream, which ran through a hole in the rocks, and went tumbling down
the precipitous side of the plateau. I saw that the stretch of green
sward between the rocks had been a lake. This suggested to me a way of
escape.
"Suppose," I said to Mary Ann, "that I closed up the hole in the rocks
with turf, and let the water run into this hollow ground, do you think
we would be able to climb down by the empty river bed?"
She got on the rocks and gazed over the precipice. "I could do it if you
would help me."
"But I couldn't," said Mrs. Simons, very snappishly. "The whole thing's
utterly ridiculous. I've written to the British Ambassador, and we shall
be rescued by the royal troops in two days at the latest."
I then told her of the "King of the Mountains Co., Ltd."
"No doubt," I said, "many of the gallant officers IN the Greek Army have
shares in it."
_III.--A Way of Escape_
And so it proved. Two days afterwards the king was explaining to me his
scheme for transforming brigandage into a peaceful orderly system of
taxation, when four shots were fired in the distance.
"Get out the Aegean wine," he said. "Pericles is coming with some
troops."
Sixty soldiers came marching into the camp. Captain Pericles, whose
figure I had often admired at Athens, ran up to Hadgi Stavros, and
kissed him.
"Good news, my dear godfather! The paymaster-general is sending L1,000
to Argos this morning by the path near the Scironian Rocks," said the
captain.
"Splendid, my boy!" said the king. "I'll go with all my men at once.
Guard the camp, and write out the report of our battle. Defeat me if you
like, but leave ten of your best troops dead on the field. I am in need
of recruits. Look after the three prisoners. They're worth L4,600."
As Hadgi Stavros marched out at the head of his men, they sang a song
composed by their king when he knew Lord Byron:
Down the winding valleys a hillsman went his way;
His eyes were black and flaming, his gun was clean and bright
He cried unto the vultures: "Oh, follow me to-day,
And you shall have my foeman to feed upon to-night!"
When Mrs. Simons saw that the brigands had gone, and the troops had
arrived, she was wild with excitement. I told her of the real state of
affairs; but she wouldn't believe me, and gave Pericles her money and
jewels when asked for them. In the evening the king returned with his
men, and the troops departed. Mrs. Simons then broke down.