Adventure stories; Countesses -- Fiction; Lawyers -- Fiction; London (England) -- Fiction; Love stories; Trials (Murder) -- Fiction
Three years earlier there had been an appalling railway accident
between Cordova and Seville. Two tightly packed trains had come into
collision, with results that had prevented even the Spanish officials
from hushing up the _contretemps_, and had sent an electric wave of
shudders over the whole news-reading world. Among the second division
of its victims, the dangerously, even mortally, wounded, there appeared
one name at least which added, in England, at any rate, to the
sensational interest which for nearly a week the affair induced. It was
that of the most prominent coming man of the day, Paul Gastineau, K.C.,
M.P., a man who had indeed arrived and who was bound, in French phrase,
to go far. Lay politicians were fond of quoting one another that a man
of such marvellous brain-power and capability for hard work had the
easy and certain reversion to the Woolsack: members of his own branch
of the profession, if they did not agree with the forecast, let it pass
unchallenged; while there were many grains of intentional truth in the
chaff indulged in by the other branch when they would declare that the
solicitor, who, having a fighting case on hand, failed to retain Paul
Gastineau, laid himself open to an action for negligence.
For Gastineau was above all things a fighter, and one who fought with
his brains as well as with his tongue; a distinction which they who
know courts of law will readily appreciate. An awkward adversary, ever
in deadly earnest, who always fenced with the button off; his enemies
and defeated opponents, and they were many, said not too scrupulously;
but he fought to win, and usually did win, leaving mere niceties and
quibbles to the schoolmen; and to have the knack of winning means much,
if not everything. It meant much for Paul Gastineau. He became the most
talked about man at the Bar, and his enemies being too human to let his
praises pass in silence, simply added their voices to the babble that
made him known. Our forefathers were stupid enough to regard the envy,
hatred and malice that attend on success as something of a drawback;
a toll, they called it, paid for being eminent: we know better, and
nowadays the wisely successful man regards his detractors as a valuable
asset in the working capital on which he pursues the business of
eminence.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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