felt the results of swift and powerful action of the same sort that is usually accompanied—­and weakened—­by outward show of anger.  Invariably good-humored, he was soon seen to be more dangerous than the men of flaring temper.  In most instances good humor of thus unbreakable species issues from weakness, from a desire to conciliate—­usually with a view to plucking the more easily.  Norman’s good humor arose from a sense of absolute security which in turn was the product of confidence in himself and amiable disdain for his fellow men.  The masses he held in derision for permitting the classes to rule and rob and spit upon them.  The classes he scorned for caring to occupy themselves with so cheap and sordid a game as the ruling, robbing, and spitting aforesaid.  Coming down to the specific, he despised men as individuals because he had always found in each and everyone of them a weakness that made it easy for him to use them as he pleased.

Not an altogether pleasant character, this.  But not so unpleasant as it may seem to those unable impartially to analyze human character, even their own—­especially their own.  And let anyone who is disposed to condemn Norman first look within himself—­in some less hypocritical and self-deceiving moment, if he have such moments—­and let him note what are the qualities he relies upon and uses in his own struggle to save himself from being submerged and sunk.  Further, there were in Norman many agreeable qualities, important, but less fundamental, therefore less deep-hidden—­therefore generally regarded as the real man and as the cause of his success in which they in fact had almost no part.  He was, for example, of striking physical appearance, was attractively dressed and mannered, was prodigally generous.  Neither as lawyer nor as man did he practice justice.  But while as lawyer he practiced injustice, as man he practiced mercy.  Whenever a weakling appealed to him for protection, he gave it—­at times with splendid recklessness as to the cost to himself in antagonisms and enmities.  Indeed, so great were the generosities of his character that, had he not been arrogant, disdainful, self-confident, resolutely and single-heartedly ambitious, he must inevitably have ruined himself—­if he had ever been able to rise high enough to be worthy the dignity of catastrophe.

Successful men are usually trying persons to know well.  Lambs, asses, and chickens do not associate happily with lions, wolves, and hawks—­nor do birds and beasts of prey get on well with one another.  Norman was regarded as “difficult” by his friends—­by those of them who happened to get into the path of his ambition, in front of instead of behind him, and by those who fell into the not unnatural error of misunderstanding his good nature and presuming upon it.  His clients regarded him as insolent.  The big businesses, seeking the rich spoils of commerce, frequent highly perilous waters.  They need skillful pilots.  Usually these lawyer-pilots “know their place” and put on no airs upon the quarter-deck while they are temporarily in command.  Not so Norman.  He took the full rank, authority—­and emoluments—­of commander.  And as his power, fame, and income were swiftly growing, it is fair to assume that he knew what he was about.