Excerpt
For some years now, the gentlemen of the book trade have pressed me in the most
urgent fashion to commit my memoirs to paper; for, these men have argued, there
are many who would gladly pay a few shillings to learn of the true and
surprising adventures of my life. While it has been my practice to dismiss this
idea with a casual wave of the hand, I cannot claim to have never seriously
thought on it, for I have often been the first to congratulate myself on having
seen and experienced so much, and many times have I gladly shared my stories
with good company around a cleared dinner table. Nevertheless, there is a
difference between tales told over a late-night bottle of claret and a book
that any man anywhere can pick up and examine. Certainly I have taken pleasure
from the idea of recounting my history, but I have also recognized that to
publish would be a ticklish endeavor-the names and specifics of my adventures
would touch nearly on so many people still living that any such book would be
actionable to say the least. Yet the idea has intrigued-even plagued me, no
doubt due to the vanity that breeds within all men's breasts, and perhaps
within mine more than most. I have therefore decided to w ... read full excerpt from A Conspiracy of Paper ebook