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Дата написания1970-01-01
Язык книгиen
Возрастное ограничение12+
Описание
Сборник рассказов, в котором автор исследует темы любви, благотворительности, мифов и культурных различий через разнообразные персонажи и события.
Главный конфликт / проблема
Конфликт между любовью Алонзо и Розанны и вмешательством Бёрли, а также критика идеалов благотворительности и их скрытых мотивов
Ключевые идеи
- Одиночество и поиск общения в холодном обществе
- Любовь как спасение от скуки и одиночества
- Влияние лжи и обмана на отношения
- Технологии (телефон) как средство связи и защиты
- Чрезмерная благосклонность может обернуться хаосом и трагедией.
- Идеалы доброты часто скрывают скрытые мотивы и личные выгоды.
- Абсурд и ирония в человеческих поступках служат критикой романтизированного альтруизма.
- Показывается, как идеалы благотворительности могут привести к личной изнурённости и разочарованию.
- Правильный выбор спасает жизнь и благополучие.
- Символика животных как хранителей судьбы.
- Роль детей и будущего в обществе.
- Непредсказуемость погоды и её влияние на жизнь.
Вывод
Книга приводит к выводу, что искренность и честность важнее обмана, а идеалы благотворительности могут обернуться трагедией, если не учитывать скрытые мотивы
Кому полезна
- Любители художественной литературы
- Интересующиеся психологией и культурными темами
- Студенты литературы
Главные темы
- Любовь и честность
- Идеалы благотворительности и их последствия
- Мифология и культурные различия
Персонажи
- Алонзо Фитц — Любит уют, ищет компанию, влюбляется в Розанну, переживает обман Бёрли
- Тётя Сьюзен — Помогает Алонзо найти компанию, вводит Розанну
- Розанна Этельтон — Молодая певица, влюблена в Алонзо, участвует в телефонном браке
- Мистер Сидни Алгернон Бёрли — Пытается помешать отношениям Алонзо и Розанны
- Рев. Мелтон Харграв — Обещает защитить музыку от кражи, но его изобретение задерживается
- Благосклонный врач — Лекарь, который лечит пуделя и становится жертвой цепочки благодарностей.
- Снодграсс — Помогает молодому автору, но в итоге становится бременем.
- Снагсби — Ищет признания, получает помощь, но в итоге становится знаменитостью.
- Молодой герой (William Ferguson) — Спасает мальчика, получает награду, но сталкивается с семейными трагедиями.
- Butterworth Stavely — Пытается подорвать власть на острове Питкэрн, становится императором, но его правление заканчивается восстанием.
- Хуберт — Добрый и благородный правитель, чья жизнь спасает певчий зверь.
- Ночной соловей — Певчий зверь, выбранный королём по пророчеству.
Цитаты
- «Тот часовой механизм снова ошибается. Он почти всегда знает, что время, и когда знает, он лжет о нем»
- «Я люблю тебя, и чувствую к тебе. Расскажи мне всё. Доверься мне»
- Beware of the books. They tell but half of the story.
- I might as well acknowledge it, I have been fooled by the books; they only tell the pretty part of the story, and then stop.
- «Up! shouted the king, let all the bells make proclamation to the people, for the choice is made and we have not erred. King, dynasty, and nation are saved. From henceforth let the nightingale be honored throughout the land forever. And publish it among all the people that whosoever shall insult a nightingale, or injure it, shall suffer death. The king hath spoken.»
- «Waw… he! waw… he! waw-he!-waw he!-waw-he!»
Сводка по автору из Wikidata
1835–1910. Mark Twain. американский писатель, журналист и общественный деятель (1835–1910)
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Страница 1 из 26ALONZO FITZ AND OTHER STORIES by Mark Twain
THE LOVES OF ALONZO FITZ CLARENCE AND ROSANNAH ETHELTON
It was well along in the forenoon of a bitter winter's day. The town of Eastport, in the state of Maine, lay buried under a deep snow that was newly fallen. The customary bustle in the streets was wanting. One could look long distances down them and see nothing but a dead-white emptiness, with silence to match. Of course I do not mean that you could see the silence—no, you could only hear it. The sidewalks were merely long, deep ditches, with steep snow walls on either side. Here and there you might hear the faint, far scrape of a wooden shovel, and if you were quick enough you might catch a glimpse of a distant black figure stooping and disappearing in one of those ditches, and reappearing the next moment with a motion which you would know meant the heaving out of a shovelful of snow. But you needed to be quick, for that black figure would not linger, but would soon drop that shovel and scud for the house, thrashing itself with its arms to warm them. Yes, it was too venomously cold for snow-shovelers or anybody else to stay out long.
Presently the sky darkened; then the wind rose and began to blow in fitful, vigorous gusts, which sent clouds of powdery snow aloft, and straight ahead, and everywhere. Under the impulse of one of these gusts, great white drifts banked themselves like graves across the streets; a moment later another gust shifted them around the other way, driving a fine spray of snow from their sharp crests, as the gale drives the spume flakes from wave-crests at sea; a third gust swept that place as clean as your hand, if it saw fit. This was fooling, this was play; but each and all of the gusts dumped some snow into the sidewalk ditches, for that was business.
Alonzo Fitz Clarence was sitting in his snug and elegant little parlor, in a lovely blue silk dressing-gown, with cuffs and facings of crimson satin, elaborately quilted. The remains of his breakfast were before him, and the dainty and costly little table service added a harmonious charm to the grace, beauty, and richness of the fixed appointments of the room. A cheery fire was blazing on the hearth.
A furious gust of wind shook the windows, and a great wave of snow washed against them with a drenching sound, so to speak. The handsome young bachelor murmured:
"That means, no going out to-day. Well, I am content. But what to do for company? Mother is well enough, Aunt Susan is well enough; but these, like the poor, I have with me always. On so grim a day as this, one needs a new interest, a fresh element, to whet the dull edge of captivity. That was very neatly said, but it doesn't mean anything. One doesn't want the edge of captivity sharpened up, you know, but just the reverse."
He glanced at his pretty French mantel-clock.
"That clock's wrong again. That clock hardly ever knows what time it is; and when it does know, it lies about it—which amounts to the same thing. Alfred!"
"Alfred!... Good servant, but as uncertain as the clock."
Alonzo touched an electric bell button in the wall. He waited a moment, then touched it again; waited a few moments more, and said:
"Battery out of order, no doubt. But now that I have started, I will find out what time it is." He stepped to a speaking-tube in the wall, blew its whistle, and called, "Mother!" and repeated it twice.
"Well, that's no use. Mother's battery is out of order, too. Can't raise anybody down-stairs—that is plain."
He sat down at a rosewood desk, leaned his chin on the left-hand edge of it and spoke, as if to the floor: "Aunt Susan!"
A low, pleasant voice answered, "Is that you, Alonzo?'
"Yes. I'm too lazy and comfortable to go downstairs; I am in extremity, and I can't seem to scare up any help."
"Dear me, what is the matter?"
"Matter enough, I can tell you!"
"Oh, don't keep me in suspense, dear! What is it?"
"I want to know what time it is."
"You abominable boy, what a turn you did give me! Is that all?"
"All—on my honor. Calm yourself. Tell me the time, and receive my blessing."
"Just five minutes after nine. No charge—keep your blessing."
"Thanks. It wouldn't have impoverished me, aunty, nor so enriched you that you could live without other means."
He got up, murmuring, "Just five minutes after nine," and faced his clock. "Ah," said he, "you are doing better than usual. You are only thirty-four minutes wrong. Let me see... let me see.... Thirty-three and twenty-one are fifty-four; four times fifty-four are two hundred and thirty-six. One off, leaves two hundred and thirty-five. That's right."
He turned the hands of his clock forward till they marked twenty-five minutes to one, and said, "Now see if you can't keep right for a while—else I'll raffle you!"
He sat down at the desk again, and said, "Aunt Susan!"
"Yes, indeed, an hour ago."
"No, but I expect some at half past nine."
"I wish I did. I'm lonesome. I want to talk to somebody."
"But this is very private."
"Don't be afraid—talk right along, there's nobody here but me."
"I hardly know whether to venture or not, but—"
"But what? Oh, don't stop there! You know you can trust me, Alonzo—you know, you can."
"I feel it, aunt, but this is very serious. It affects me deeply—me, and all the family—-even the whole community."
"Oh, Alonzo, tell me! I will never breathe a word of it. What is it?"
"Oh, please go on! I love you, and feel for you. Tell me all. Confide in me. What is it?"
"Plague take the weather! I don't see how you can have the heart to serve me so, Lon."
"There, there, aunty dear, I'm sorry; I am, on my honor. I won't do it again. Do you forgive me?"
"Yes, since you seem so sincere about it, though I know I oughtn't to. You will fool me again as soon as I have forgotten this time."
"No, I won't, honor bright. But such weather, oh, such weather! You've got to keep your spirits up artificially. It is snowy, and blowy, and gusty, and bitter cold! How is the weather with you?"
"Warm and rainy and melancholy. The mourners go about the streets with their umbrellas running streams from the end of every whalebone. There's an elevated double pavement of umbrellas, stretching down the sides of the streets as far as I can see. I've got a fire for cheerfulness, and the windows open to keep cool. But it is vain, it is useless: nothing comes in but the balmy breath of December, with its burden of mocking odors from the flowers that possess the realm outside, and rejoice in their lawless profusion whilst the spirit of man is low, and flaunt their gaudy splendors in his face while his soul is clothed in sackcloth and ashes and his heart breaketh."
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The town of Eastport, in the state of Maine, lay buried under a deep snow that was newly fallen. The customary bustle in the streets was wanting. One could look long distances down them and see nothing but a dead-white emptiness, with silence to match. Of course I do not mean that you could see the silence—no, you could only hear it. The sidewalks were merely long, deep ditches, with steep snow walls on either side. Here and there you might hear the faint, far scrape of a wooden shovel, and if you were quick enough you might catch a glimpse of a distant black figure stooping and disappearing in one of those ditches, and reappearing the next moment with a motion which you would know meant the heaving out of a shovelful of snow. But you needed to be quick, for that black figure would not linger, but would soon drop that shovel and scud for the house, thrashing itself with its arms to warm them. Yes, it was too venomously cold for snow-shovelers or anybody else to stay out long."},{"id":"id117:2","kind":"paragraph","text":"Presently the sky darkened; then the wind rose and began to blow in fitful, vigorous gusts, which sent clouds of powdery snow aloft, and straight ahead, and everywhere. Under the impulse of one of these gusts, great white drifts banked themselves like graves across the streets; a moment later another gust shifted them around the other way, driving a fine spray of snow from their sharp crests, as the gale drives the spume flakes from wave-crests at sea; a third gust swept that place as clean as your hand, if it saw fit. This was fooling, this was play; but each and all of the gusts dumped some snow into the sidewalk ditches, for that was business."},{"id":"id117:3","kind":"paragraph","text":"Alonzo Fitz Clarence was sitting in his snug and elegant little parlor, in a lovely blue silk dressing-gown, with cuffs and facings of crimson satin, elaborately quilted. The remains of his breakfast were before him, and the dainty and costly little table service added a harmonious charm to the grace, beauty, and richness of the fixed appointments of the room. A cheery fire was blazing on the hearth."},{"id":"id117:4","kind":"paragraph","text":"A furious gust of wind shook the windows, and a great wave of snow washed against them with a drenching sound, so to speak. The handsome young bachelor murmured:"},{"id":"id117:5","kind":"paragraph","text":"\"That means, no going out to-day. Well, I am content. But what to do for company? Mother is well enough, Aunt Susan is well enough; but these, like the poor, I have with me always. On so grim a day as this, one needs a new interest, a fresh element, to whet the dull edge of captivity. That was very neatly said, but it doesn't mean anything. One doesn't want the edge of captivity sharpened up, you know, but just the reverse.\""},{"id":"id117:6","kind":"paragraph","text":"He glanced at his pretty French mantel-clock."},{"id":"id117:7","kind":"paragraph","text":"\"That clock's wrong again. That clock hardly ever knows what time it is; and when it does know, it lies about it—which amounts to the same thing. Alfred!\""},{"id":"id117:8","kind":"paragraph","text":"There was no answer."},{"id":"id117:9","kind":"paragraph","text":"\"Alfred!... Good servant, but as uncertain as the clock.\""},{"id":"id117:10","kind":"paragraph","text":"Alonzo touched an electric bell button in the wall. He waited a moment, then touched it again; waited a few moments more, and said:"},{"id":"id117:11","kind":"paragraph","text":"\"Battery out of order, no doubt. But now that I have started, I will find out what time it is.\" He stepped to a speaking-tube in the wall, blew its whistle, and called, \"Mother!\" and repeated it twice."},{"id":"id117:12","kind":"paragraph","text":"\"Well, that's no use. Mother's battery is out of order, too. Can't raise anybody down-stairs—that is plain.\""},{"id":"id117:13","kind":"paragraph","text":"He sat down at a rosewood desk, leaned his chin on the left-hand edge of it and spoke, as if to the floor: \"Aunt Susan!\""},{"id":"id117:14","kind":"paragraph","text":"A low, pleasant voice answered, \"Is that you, Alonzo?'"},{"id":"id117:15","kind":"paragraph","text":"\"Yes. I'm too lazy and comfortable to go downstairs; I am in extremity, and I can't seem to scare up any help.\""},{"id":"id117:16","kind":"paragraph","text":"\"Dear me, what is the matter?\""},{"id":"id117:17","kind":"paragraph","text":"\"Matter enough, I can tell you!\""},{"id":"id117:18","kind":"paragraph","text":"\"Oh, don't keep me in suspense, dear! What is it?\""},{"id":"id117:19","kind":"paragraph","text":"\"I want to know what time it is.\""},{"id":"id117:20","kind":"paragraph","text":"\"You abominable boy, what a turn you did give me! Is that all?\""},{"id":"id117:21","kind":"paragraph","text":"\"All—on my honor. Calm yourself. Tell me the time, and receive my blessing.\""},{"id":"id117:22","kind":"paragraph","text":"\"Just five minutes after nine. No charge—keep your blessing.\""},{"id":"id117:23","kind":"paragraph","text":"\"Thanks. It wouldn't have impoverished me, aunty, nor so enriched you that you could live without other means.\""},{"id":"id117:24","kind":"paragraph","text":"He got up, murmuring, \"Just five minutes after nine,\" and faced his clock. \"Ah,\" said he, \"you are doing better than usual. You are only thirty-four minutes wrong. Let me see... let me see.... Thirty-three and twenty-one are fifty-four; four times fifty-four are two hundred and thirty-six. One off, leaves two hundred and thirty-five. That's right.\""},{"id":"id117:25","kind":"paragraph","text":"He turned the hands of his clock forward till they marked twenty-five minutes to one, and said, \"Now see if you can't keep right for a while—else I'll raffle you!\""},{"id":"id117:26","kind":"paragraph","text":"He sat down at the desk again, and said, \"Aunt Susan!\""},{"id":"id117:27","kind":"paragraph","text":"\"Yes, dear.\""},{"id":"id117:28","kind":"paragraph","text":"\"Had breakfast?\""},{"id":"id117:29","kind":"paragraph","text":"\"Yes, indeed, an hour ago.\""},{"id":"id117:30","kind":"paragraph","text":"\"Busy?\""},{"id":"id117:31","kind":"paragraph","text":"\"No—except sewing. Why?\""},{"id":"id117:32","kind":"paragraph","text":"\"Got any company?\""},{"id":"id117:33","kind":"paragraph","text":"\"No, but I expect some at half past nine.\""},{"id":"id117:34","kind":"paragraph","text":"\"I wish I did. I'm lonesome. I want to talk to somebody.\""},{"id":"id117:35","kind":"paragraph","text":"\"Very well, talk to me.\""},{"id":"id117:36","kind":"paragraph","text":"\"But this is very private.\""},{"id":"id117:37","kind":"paragraph","text":"\"Don't be afraid—talk right along, there's nobody here but me.\""},{"id":"id117:38","kind":"paragraph","text":"\"I hardly know whether to venture or not, but—\""},{"id":"id117:39","kind":"paragraph","text":"\"But what? Oh, don't stop there! You know you can trust me, Alonzo—you know, you can.\""},{"id":"id117:40","kind":"paragraph","text":"\"I feel it, aunt, but this is very serious. It affects me deeply—me, and all the family—-even the whole community.\""},{"id":"id117:41","kind":"paragraph","text":"\"Oh, Alonzo, tell me! I will never breathe a word of it. What is it?\""},{"id":"id117:42","kind":"paragraph","text":"\"Aunt, if I might dare—\""},{"id":"id117:43","kind":"paragraph","text":"\"Oh, please go on! I love you, and feel for you. Tell me all. Confide in me. What is it?\""},{"id":"id117:44","kind":"paragraph","text":"\"The weather!\""},{"id":"id117:45","kind":"paragraph","text":"\"Plague take the weather! I don't see how you can have the heart to serve me so, Lon.\""},{"id":"id117:46","kind":"paragraph","text":"\"There, there, aunty dear, I'm sorry; I am, on my honor. I won't do it again. Do you forgive me?\""},{"id":"id117:47","kind":"paragraph","text":"\"Yes, since you seem so sincere about it, though I know I oughtn't to. You will fool me again as soon as I have forgotten this time.\""},{"id":"id117:48","kind":"paragraph","text":"\"No, I won't, honor bright. But such weather, oh, such weather! You've got to keep your spirits up artificially. It is snowy, and blowy, and gusty, and bitter cold! How is the weather with you?\""},{"id":"id117:49","kind":"paragraph","text":"\"Warm and rainy and melancholy. The mourners go about the streets with their umbrellas running streams from the end of every whalebone. There's an elevated double pavement of umbrellas, stretching down the sides of the streets as far as I can see. I've got a fire for cheerfulness, and the windows open to keep cool. But it is vain, it is useless: nothing comes in but the balmy breath of December, with its burden of mocking odors from the flowers that possess the realm outside, and rejoice in their lawless profusion whilst the spirit of man is low, and flaunt their gaudy splendors in his face while his soul is clothed in sackcloth and ashes and his heart breaketh.\""}],"toc":[{"id":"id118:0:1","label":"ALONZO FITZ AND OTHER STORIES by Mark Twain","page":1,"pageUrl":"/books/29HS7Q85#reader-content"},{"id":"id117:0:1","label":"THE LOVES OF ALONZO FITZ CLARENCE AND ROSANNAH ETHELTON","page":1,"pageUrl":"/books/29HS7Q85#reader-content"},{"id":"id116:0:3","label":"II","page":3,"pageUrl":"/books/29HS7Q85?page=3#reader-content"},{"id":"id115:0:4","label":"III","page":4,"pageUrl":"/books/29HS7Q85?page=4#reader-content"},{"id":"id114:0:5","label":"IV","page":5,"pageUrl":"/books/29HS7Q85?page=5#reader-content"},{"id":"id113:0:6","label":"ON THE DECAY OF THE ART OF LYING","page":6,"pageUrl":"/books/29HS7Q85?page=6#reader-content"},{"id":"id112:0:8","label":"ABOUT MAGNANIMOUS-INCIDENT LITERATURE","page":8,"pageUrl":"/books/29HS7Q85?page=8#reader-content"},{"id":"id112:2:8","label":"THE GRATEFUL POODLE","page":8,"pageUrl":"/books/29HS7Q85?page=8#reader-content"},{"id":"id112:4:8","label":"SEQUEL","page":8,"pageUrl":"/books/29HS7Q85?page=8#reader-content"},{"id":"id112:10:9","label":"THE BENEVOLENT AUTHOR","page":9,"pageUrl":"/books/29HS7Q85?page=9#reader-content"},{"id":"id112:13:9","label":"SEQUEL","page":9,"pageUrl":"/books/29HS7Q85?page=9#reader-content"},{"id":"id112:17:9","label":"THE GRATEFUL HUSBAND","page":9,"pageUrl":"/books/29HS7Q85?page=9#reader-content"},{"id":"id111:0:10","label":"PUNCH, BROTHERS, PUNCH","page":10,"pageUrl":"/books/29HS7Q85?page=10#reader-content"},{"id":"id110:0:12","label":"THE GREAT REVOLUTION IN PITCAIRN","page":12,"pageUrl":"/books/29HS7Q85?page=12#reader-content"},{"id":"id19:0:16","label":"THE CANVASSER'S TALE","page":16,"pageUrl":"/books/29HS7Q85?page=16#reader-content"},{"id":"id18:0:18","label":"AN ENCOUNTER WITH AN INTERVIEWER","page":18,"pageUrl":"/books/29HS7Q85?page=18#reader-content"},{"id":"id17:0:19","label":"PARIS NOTES","page":19,"pageUrl":"/books/29HS7Q85?page=19#reader-content"},{"id":"id16:0:20","label":"LEGEND OF SAGENFELD, IN GERMANY","page":20,"pageUrl":"/books/29HS7Q85?page=20#reader-content"},{"id":"id15:0:21","label":"II","page":21,"pageUrl":"/books/29HS7Q85?page=21#reader-content"},{"id":"id14:0:22","label":"SPEECH ON THE BABIES","page":22,"pageUrl":"/books/29HS7Q85?page=22#reader-content"},{"id":"id13:0:23","label":"SPEECH ON THE WEATHER AT THE NEW ENGLAND SOCIETY'S SEVENTY-FIRST ANNUAL DINNER, NEW YORK CITY","page":23,"pageUrl":"/books/29HS7Q85?page=23#reader-content"},{"id":"id12:0:24","label":"CONCERNING THE AMERICAN LANGUAGE —","page":24,"pageUrl":"/books/29HS7Q85?page=24#reader-content"},{"id":"id11:0:25","label":"ROGERS","page":25,"pageUrl":"/books/29HS7Q85?page=25#reader-content"}]},"similarBooks":[{"idCatalog":787516,"shortId":"038AHbna","title":"Человек-зверь","authorLine":"Эмиль Золя, В. 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