"Haggard, H Rider- When the World Shook" - читать интересную книгу автора (Haggard H. Rider)

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 quote names and to give the example of the very
powerful journal which at first carped at my work and then gushed
over it when it became the fashion. All of this made me many
bitter enemies, as I found out when my next book appeared.

It was torn to shreds, it was reviled as subversive of morality
and religion, good arrows in those days. It was called puerile,