Armorel of Lyonesse: A Romance of To-dayBesant, Walter
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Armorel of Lyonesse: A Romance of To-day
Besant, Walter
Fraud -- Fiction; Isles of Scilly (England) -- Fiction; London (England) -- Fiction
Armorel, it is true, knew but little of the crooked paths by which
many men perform this earthly pilgrimage from the world which is to
the world which is to come. Children born on Samson--nay, even those
also of St. Mary's--have few opportunities of observing these ways.
That is why all Scillonians are perfectly honest: they do not know how
to cheat--even those who might wish to become dishonest, if they knew.
In her five years' apprenticeship the tree of knowledge had dropped
some of its baleful fruit at Armorel's feet: that cannot be avoided
even in a convent garden. Yet she had not eaten largely of the fruit,
nor with the voracity that distinguishes many young people of both
sexes when they get hold of these apples. In other words, she only
knew of craft and falsehood in general terms, as they are set forth in
the Gospels and by the Apostles, and especially in the Book of
Revelation, which expressly states the portion of liars. Yet, even
with this slight foundation to build upon, Armorel was well aware that
here was a fraud of a most monstrous character. Surely, there never
was, before this man, any man in the world who dared to present to the
world another man's paintings, and to call them his own? Men and women
have claimed books which they never wrote--witness the leading case of
the false George Eliot and the story told by Anthony Trollope; men
have pretended to be well-known writers--did I not myself once meet a
man in an hotel pretending to be one of our most genial of
story-tellers? Men have written things and pretended that they were
the work of famous hands. Literature--alas!--hath many impostors. But
in Art the record is clean. There are a few ghosts, to be sure, here
and there--sporadic spectres!--but they are obscure and mostly
unknown. Armorel had never heard or seen any of them. Surely there
never before was any man like unto this man!
And, apart from the colossal impudence of the thing, she began to
consider the profound difficulties in carrying it out. Because, you
see, no one man, unaided, could carry it through. It requires the
consent, the silence, and the active--nay, the zealous--cooperation of
another man. And how are you to get that man?
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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