The World's Greatest Books - Volume 1 Part 1

The World's Greatest Books.

Vol. I.

by Various.

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 s.p.a.ce.

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 const.i.tutes 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 cla.s.s 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 t.i.tle-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 cla.s.sical 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, Sh.e.l.ley, 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 h.e.l.las.

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 f.a.ggots 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 pa.s.sed 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 Parna.s.sus. 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?"