When the World Shook | Page 6

mean.
As regards what I interpret as fastidiousness, this is not very easy to
express. Perhaps a definition will help. I am like a man with an
over-developed sense of smell, who when walking through a foreign
city, however clean and well kept, can always catch the evil savours
that are inseparable from such cities. More, his keen perception of them
interferes with all other perceptions and spoils his walks. The result is
that in after years, whenever he thinks of that beautiful city, he
remembers, not its historic buildings or its wide boulevards, or
whatever it has to boast, but rather its ancient, fish-like smell. At least
he remembers that first owing to this defect in his temperament.
So it is with everything. A lovely woman is spoiled for such a one
because she eats too much or has too high a voice; he does not care for
his shooting because the scenery is flat, or for his fishing because the
gnats bite as well as the trout. In short he is out of tune with the world
as it is. Moreover, this is a quality which, where it exists, cannot be
overcome; it affects day-labourers as well as gentlemen at large. It is
bred in the bone.
Probably the second failure-breeding fault, lack of perseverance, has its
roots in the first, at any rate in my case. At least on leaving college with
some reputation, I was called to the Bar where, owing to certain
solicitor and other connections, I had a good opening. Also, owing to
the excellence of my memory and powers of work, I began very well,
making money even during my first year. Then, as it happened, a
certain case came my way and, my leader falling ill suddenly after it
was opened, was left in my hands. The man whose cause I was
pleading was, I think, one of the biggest scoundrels it is possible to
conceive. It was a will case and if he won, the effect would be to
beggar two most estimable middle-aged women who were justly
entitled to the property, to which end personally I am convinced he had
committed forgery; the perjury that accompanied it I do not even

mention.
Well, he did win, thanks to me, and the estimable middle-aged ladies
were beggared, and as I heard afterwards, driven to such extremities
that one of them died of her misery and the other became a
lodging-house keeper. The details do not matter, but I may explain that
these ladies were unattractive in appearance and manner and broke
down beneath my cross-examination which made them appear to be
telling falsehoods, whereas they were only completely confused.
Further, I invented an ingenious theory of the facts which, although the
judge regarded it with suspicion, convinced an unusually stupid jury
who gave me their verdict.
Everybody congratulated me and at the time I was triumphant,
especially as my leader had declared that our case was impossible.
Afterwards, however, my conscience smote me sorely, so much so that
arguing from the false premise of this business, I came to the
conclusion that the practice of the Law was not suited to an honest man.
I did not take the large view that such matters average themselves up
and that if I had done harm in this instance, I might live to do good in
many others, and perhaps become a just judge, even a great judge. Here
I may mention that in after years, when I grew rich, I rescued that
surviving old lady from her lodging-house, although to this day she
does not know the name of her anonymous friend. So by degrees,
without saying anything, for I kept on my chambers, I slipped out of
practice, to the great disappointment of everybody connected with me,
and took to authorship.
A marvel came to pass, my first book was an enormous success. The
whole world talked of it. A leading journal, delighted to have
discovered someone, wrote it up; other journals followed suit to be in
the movement. One of them, I remember, which had already dismissed
it with three or four sneering lines, came out with a second and
two-column notice. It sold like wildfire and I suppose had some merits,
for it is still read, though few know that I wrote it, since fortunately it
was published under a pseudonym.
Again I was much elated and set to work to write another and, as I

believe, a much better book. But jealousies had been excited by this
leaping into fame of a totally unknown person, which were, moreover,
accentuated through a foolish article that I published in answer to some
criticisms, wherein I spoke my mind with an insane freedom and biting
sarcasm. Indeed I was even mad enough to