Have you ever thought about what fiction is? Probably, such a question may seem surprising: and so everything is clear. Every person throughout his life has to repeatedly create the works he needs for specific purposes - statements, autobiographies, dictations - using not gypsum or clay, not musical notes, not paints, but just a word. At the same time, almost every person will be very surprised if he is told that he thereby created a work of fiction, which is very different from visual art, music and sculpture making. However, everyone understands that a student's essay or dictation is fundamentally different from novels, short stories, news that are created by professional writers. In the works of professionals there is the most important difference - excogitation. But, oddly enough, in a school literature course, you don’t realize the full power of fiction. So using our website in your free time discover fiction for yourself. The Expedition of Humphry Clinker by T. Smollett (fun books to read for adults .txt) 📖
- Author: T. Smollett
Book online «The Expedition of Humphry Clinker by T. Smollett (fun books to read for adults .txt) 📖». Author T. Smollett
Those originals are not fit for conversation. If they would maintain the advantage they have gained by their writing, they should never appear but upon paper—For my part, I am shocked to find a man have sublime ideas in his head, and nothing but illiberal sentiments in his heart—The human soul will be generally found most defective in the article of candour—I am inclined to think, no mind was ever wholly exempt from envy; which, perhaps, may have been implanted, as an instinct essential to our nature. I am afraid we sometimes palliate this vice, under the spacious name of emulation. I have known a person remarkably generous, humane, moderate, and apparently self-denying, who could not hear even a friend commended, without betraying marks of uneasiness; as if that commendation had implied an odious comparison to his prejudice, and every wreath of praise added to the other’s character, was a garland plucked from his own temples. This is a malignant species of jealousy, of which I stand acquitted in my own conscience.
Whether it is a vice, or an infirmity, I leave you to inquire.
There is another point, which I would much rather see determined; whether the world was always as contemptible, as it appears to me at present?—If the morals of mankind have not contracted an extraordinary degree of depravity, within these thirty years, then must I be infected with the common vice of old men, difficilis, querulus, laudator temporis acti; or, which is more probable, the impetuous pursuits and avocations of youth have formerly hindered me from observing those rotten parts of human nature, which now appear so offensively to my observation.
We have been at court, and ‘change, and every where; and every where we find food for spleen, and subject for ridicule—My new servant, Humphry Clinker, turns out a great original: and Tabby is a changed creature—She has parted with Chowder; and does nothing but smile, like Malvolio in the play—I’ll be hanged if she is not acting a part which is not natural to her disposition, for some purpose which I have not yet discovered.
With respect to the characters of mankind, my curiosity is quite satisfied: I have done with the science of men, and must now endeavour to amuse myself with the novelty of things. I am, at present, by a violent effort of the mind, forced from my natural bias; but this power ceasing to act, I shall return to my solitude with redoubled velocity. Every thing I see, and hear, and feel, in this great reservoir of folly, knavery, and sophistication, contributes to inhance the value of a country life, in the sentiments of
Yours always, MATT. BRAMBLE LONDON, June 2.
To Mrs MARY JONES, at Brambleton-hall. DEAR MARY JONES,
Lady Griskin’s botler, Mr Crumb, having got ‘squire Barton to frank me a kiver, I would not neglect to let you know how it is with me, and the rest of the family.
I could not rite by John Thomas, for because he went away in a huff, at a minutes’ warning. He and Chowder could not agree, and so they fitt upon the road, and Chowder bitt his thumb, and he swore he would do him a mischief, and he spoke saucy to mistress, whereby the squire turned him off in gudgeon; and by God’s providence we picked up another footman, called Umphry Klinker; a good sole as ever broke bread; which shews that a scalded cat may prove a good mouser, and a hound be staunch, thof he has got narro hare on his buttocks; but the proudest nose may be bro’t to the grinestone, by sickness and misfortunes.
0 Molly! what shall I say of London? All the towns that ever I beheld in my born-days, are no more than Welsh barrows and crumlecks to this wonderful sitty! Even Bath itself is but a fillitch, in the naam of God—One would think there’s no end of the streets, but the land’s end. Then there’s such a power of people, going hurry skurry! Such a racket of coxes! Such a noise, and haliballoo! So many strange sites to be seen! O gracious! my poor Welsh brain has been spinning like a top ever since I came hither! And I have seen the Park, and the paleass of Saint Gimses, and the king’s and the queen’s magisterial pursing, and the sweet young princes, and the hillyfents, and pye bald ass, and all the rest of the royal family.
Last week I went with mistress to the Tower, to see the crowns and wild beastis; and there was a monstracious lion, with teeth half a quarter long; and a gentleman bid me not go near him, if I wasn’t a maid; being as how he would roar, and tear, and play the dickens—Now I had no mind to go near him; for I cannot abide such dangerous honeymils, not I—but, mistress would go; and the beast kept such a roaring and bouncing, that I tho’t he would have broke his cage and devoured us all; and the gentleman tittered forsooth; but I’ll go to death upon it, I will, that my lady is as good a firchin, as the child unborn; and, therefore, either the gentleman told a fib, or the lion oft to be set in the stocks for bearing false witness agin his neighbour; for the commandment sayeth, Thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbour.
I was afterwards of a party at Sadler’s-wells, where I saw such tumbling and dancing upon ropes and wires, that I was frightened and ready to go into a fit—I tho’t it was all inchantment; and, believing myself bewitched, began for to cry—You knows as how the witches in Wales fly upon broom-sticks: but here was flying without any broom-stick, or thing in the varsal world, and firing of pistols in the air, and blowing of trumpets, and swinging, and rolling of wheel-barrows upon a wire (God bless us!) no thicker than a sewing-thread; that, to be sure, they must deal with the devil!—A fine gentleman, with a pig’s-tail, and a golden sord by his side, come to comfit me, and offered for to treat me with a pint of wind; but I would not stay; and so, in going through the dark passage, he began to shew his cloven futt, and went for to be rude: my fellow-sarvant, Umphry Klinker, bid him be sivil, and he gave the young man a dowse in the chops; but, I fackins, Mr Klinker wa’n’t long in his debt—with a good oaken sapling he dusted his doublet, for all his golden cheese toaster; and, fipping me under his arm, carried me huom, I nose not how, being I was in such a flustration—But, thank God! I’m now vaned from all such vanities; for what are all those rarities and vagaries to the glory that shall be revealed hereafter? O Molly! let not your poor heart be puffed up with vanity.
I had almost forgot to tell you, that I have had my hair cut and pippered, and singed, and bolstered, and buckled, in the newest fashion, by a French freezer—Parley vow Francey—Vee madmansell—I now carries my head higher than arrow private gentlewoman of Vales. Last night, coming huom from the meeting, I was taken by lamp-light for an iminent poulterer’s daughter, a great beauty—But as I was saying, this is all vanity and vexation of spirit—The pleasures of London are no better than sower whey and stale cyder, when compared to the joys of the
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