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. He Knew He Was Right by Anthony Trollope (ebook reader with internet browser txt) 📖
- Author: Anthony Trollope
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Book online «He Knew He Was Right by Anthony Trollope (ebook reader with internet browser txt) 📖». Author Anthony Trollope
had never offered his services as an interpreter, and as the Italian
did not quite catch the subtle meanings of the Americans in Mr Gore’s
Tuscan version, and did not in the least wish to understand the things
that were explained to him, Mr Gore and the Italian began to think that
the two Americans were bores. ‘The truth is, Mr Spalding,’ said Mr
Gore, ‘I’ve got such a cold in my head, that I don’t think I can
explain it any more.’ Then Livy Spalding laughed aloud, and the two
American gentlemen began to eat their dinner. ‘It sounds ridiculous,
don’t it?’ said Mr Gore, in a whisper.
‘I ought not to have laughed, I know,’ said Livy.
‘The very best thing you could have done. I shan’t be troubled any more
now. The fact is, I know just nine words of Italian. Now there is a
difficulty in having to explain the whole theory of American politics
to an Italian, who doesn’t want to know anything about it, with so very
small a repertory of words at one’s command.’
‘How well you did it!’
‘Too well. I felt that. So well that, unless I had stopped it, I
shouldn’t have been able to say a word to you all through dinner. Your
laughter clenched it, and Buonarosci and I will be grateful to you for
ever.’
After the ladies went there was rather a bad half hour for Mr Glascock.
He was button-holed by the minister, and found it oppressive before he
was enabled to escape into the drawing-room. ‘Mr Glascock,’ said the
minister, ‘an English gentleman, sir, like you, who has the privilege
of an hereditary seat in your parliament’—Mr Glascock was not quite sure
whether he were being accused of having an hereditary seat in the House
of Commons, but he would not stop to correct any possible error on that
point—‘and who has been born to all the gifts of fortune, rank, and
social eminence, should never think that his education is complete till
he has visited our great cities in the west.’ Mr Glascock hinted that
he by no means conceived his education to be complete; but the minister
went on without attending to this. ‘Till you have seen, sir, what men
can do who are placed upon the earth with all God’s gifts of free
intelligence, free air, and a free soil, but without any of those other
good things which we are accustomed to call the gifts of fortune, you
can never become aware of the infinite ingenuity of man.’ There had
been much said before, but just at this moment Mr Gore and the American
left the room, and the Italian followed them briskly. Mr Glascock at
once made a decided attempt to bolt; but the minister was on the alert,
and was too quick for him. And he was by no means ashamed of what he
was doing. He had got his guest by the coat, and openly declared his
intention of holding him. ‘Let me keep you for a few minutes, sir,’
said he, ‘while I dilate on this point in one direction. In the
drawing-room female spells are too potent for us male orators. In going
among us, Mr Glascock, you must not look for luxury or refinement, for
you will find them not. Nor must you hope to encounter the highest
order of erudition. The lofty summits of acquired knowledge tower in
your country with an altitude we have not reached yet.’ ‘It’s very good
of you to say so,’ said Mr Glascock. ‘No, sir. In our new country and
in our new cities we still lack the luxurious perfection of fastidious
civilisation. But, sir, regard our level. That’s what I say to every
unprejudiced Britisher that comes among us; look at our level. And when
you have looked at our level, I think that you will confess that we
live on the highest table-land that the world has yet afforded to
mankind. You follow my meaning, Mr Glascock?’ Mr Glascock was not sure
that he did, but the minister went on to make that meaning clear. ‘It
is the multitude that with us is educated. Go into their houses, sir,
and see how they thumb their books. Look at the domestic correspondence
of our helps and servants, and see how they write and spell. We haven’t
got the mountains, sir, but our table-lands are the highest on which
the bright sun of our Almighty God has as yet shone with its
illuminating splendour in this improving world of ours! It is because
we are a young people, sir with nothing as yet near to us of the
decrepitude of age. The weakness of age, sir, is the penalty paid by
the folly of youth. We are not so wise, sir, but what we too shall
suffer from its effects as years roll over our heads.’ There was a
great deal more, but at last Mr Glascock did escape into the
drawing-room.
‘My uncle has been saying a few words to you perhaps,’ said Carry
Spalding.
‘Yes; he has,’ said Mr Glascock.
‘He usually does,’ said Carry Spalding.
ABOUT FISHING, AND NAVIGATION, AND HEADDRESSES
The feud between Miss Stanbury and Mr Gibson raged violently in Exeter,
and produced many complications which were very difficult indeed of
management. Each belligerent party felt that a special injury had been
inflicted upon it. Mr Gibson was quite sure that he had been grossly
misused by Miss Stanbury the elder, and strongly suspected that Miss
Stanbury the younger had had a hand in this misconduct. It had been
positively asserted to him, at least so he thought, but in this was
probably in error, that the lady would accept him if he proposed to her.
All Exeter had been made aware of the intended compact. He, indeed, had
denied its existence to Miss French, comforting himself, as best he
might, with the reflection that all is fair in love and war; but when
he counted over his injuries he did not think of this denial. All
Exeter, so to say, had known of it. And yet, when he had come with his
proposal, he had been refused without a moment’s consideration, first
by the aunt, and then by the niece and, after that, had been violently
abused, and at last turned out of the house! Surely, no gentleman had
ever before been subjected to ill-usage so violent! But Miss Stanbury
the elder was quite as assured that the injury had been done to her. As
to the matter of the compact itself, she knew very well that she had
been as true as steel. She had done everything in her power to bring
about the marriage. She had been generous in her offers of money. She
had used all her powers of persuasion on Dorothy, and she had given
every opportunity to Mr Gibson. It was not her fault if he had not been
able to avail himself of the good things which she had put in his way.
He had first been, as she thought, ignorant and arrogant, fancying that
the good things ought to be made his own without any trouble on his
part, and then awkward, not knowing how to take the trouble when trouble
was necessary. And as to that matter of abusive language and turning
out of the house, Miss Stanbury was quite convinced that she was sinned
against, and not herself the sinner. She declared to Martha, more than
once, that Mr Gibson had used such language to her that, coming out of
a clergyman’s mouth, it had quite dismayed her. Martha, who knew her
mistress, probably felt that Mr Gibson had at least received as good as
he gave; but she had made no attempt to set her mistress right on that
point.
But the cause of Miss Stanbury’s sharpest anger was not to be found in
Mr Gibson’s conduct either before Dorothy’s refusal of his offer, or on
the occasion of his being turned out of the house. A base rumour was
spread about the city that Dorothy Stanbury had been offered to Mr
Gibson, that Mr Gibson had civilly declined the offer, and that hence
had arisen the wrath of the Juno of the Close. Now this was not to be
endured by Miss Stanbury. She had felt even in the moment of her
original anger against Mr Gibson that she was bound in honour not to
tell the story against him. She had brought him into the little
difficulty, and she at least would hold her tongue. She was quite sure
that Dorothy would never boast of her triumph. And Martha had been
strictly cautioned as indeed, also, had Brooke Burgess. The man had
behaved like an idiot, Miss Stanbury said; but he had been brought into
a little dilemma, and nothing should be said about it from the house in
the Close. But when the other rumour reached Miss Stanbury’s ears, when
Mrs Crumbie condoled with her on her niece’s misfortune, when Mrs
MacHugh asked whether Mr Gibson had not behaved rather badly to the
young lady, then our Juno’s celestial mind was filled with a divine
anger. But even then she did not declare the truth. She asked a
question of Mrs Crumbie, and was enabled, as she thought, to trace the
falsehood to the Frenches. She did not think that Mr Gibson could on a
sudden have become so base a liar. ‘Mr Gibson fast and loose with my
niece?’ she said to Mrs MacHugh. ‘You have not got the story quite
right, my dear friend. Pray, believe me there has been nothing of that
sort.’ ‘I dare say not,’ said Mrs MacHugh, ‘and I’m sure I don’t care.
Mr Gibson has been going to marry one of the French girls for the last
ten years, and I think he ought to make up his mind and do it at last.’
‘I can assure you he is quite welcome as far as Dorothy is concerned,’
said Miss Stanbury.
Without a doubt the opinion did prevail throughout Exeter that Mr
Gibson, who had been regarded time out of mind as the property of the
Miss Frenches, had been angled for by the ladies in the Close, that he
had nearly been caught, but that he had slipped the hook out of his
mouth, and was now about to subside quietly into the net which had been
originally prepared for him. Arabella French had not spoken loudly on
the subject, but Camilla had declared in more than one house that she
had most direct authority for stating that the gentleman had never
dreamed of offering to the young lady. ‘Why he should not do so if he
pleases, I don’t know,’ said Camilla. ‘Only the fact is that he has not
pleased. The rumour of course has reached him, and, as we happen to be
very old friends we have authority for denying it altogether.’ All this
came round to Miss Stanbury, and she was divine in her wrath.
‘If they drive me to it,’ she said to Dorothy, ‘I’ll have the whole
truth told by the bellman through the city, or I’ll publish it in the
County Gazette.’
‘Pray don’t say a word about it, Aunt Stanbury.’
‘It is those odious girls. He’s there now every day.’
‘Why shouldn’t he go there, Aunt Stanbury?’
‘If he’s fool enough, let him go. I don’t care where he goes. But I do
care about these lies. They wouldn’t dare to say it only they think my
mouth is closed. They’ve no honour themselves, but they screen
themselves behind mine.’
‘I’m sure they won’t find themselves mistaken in what they trust to,’
said Dorothy, with a spirit that her aunt had not expected from her.
Miss
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