The Wichita daily eagle. [volume] (Wichita, Kan.) 1890-1906, 1892-01-20
A LOST CONSCIENCE.

A conscience had been lost. Yet moth
ing appeared changed. The streets anc
the theaters were always crowded; people
continued to pass to and fro; ambitions
still agitated the air, and good luck was
his who could catch it on the wing. NJ
one noticed that something had suddenly
disappeared, that a certain flute had ceased
20 play its part in the great orchestra Of
human life. On the contrary. some people
even began to feel themselves freer and
Drawer. Man walked more arily and un
oerstood better those commodities which
can be found to give dig at a neighbour
the opportunity of hatteriug, of cheating
Of making false reports, Of calumniating.
1t seemed as though all discomforts had
been spirited away. People no longer
walked. They seemed to be borne I'D.
Nothing affected them, nothing could
make them reflect. The present, the fu
ture, everything seemed to belong to those
happy people who had not even noticed the
loss of the conscience
1t disappeared suddenly. in the twinkling
of an eye! Yesterday it was still there,
like tiresome parasite, obvious to every
one, obtruding itself on the attention,
when suddenly there was nothing!
All displeasing phantoms had disap-
peared with it, and also the moral inquiet-
ude which accompanies an accusing con
science disappeared likewise
Now there was no hindrance to sailing
with the stream of life, TO absolute amuse
ment. The wise ones of this world realized
that they were at length freed from the
last drag which impeded their movements.
and they at once gave themselves up to
pluck the fruits of this liberty. There
seemed nothing but rapine and thefts; it
was the beginning of a general ruin
Meanwhile the unfortunate conscience
lay ali lacerated on the highroad The
passers by spat at it and pushed it with
their feet. Each one trampled on ii, As
they would have done tattered rag: each
one asked himself with aStonishment how
1t was possible that such scandal could
take place in broad daylight in well reg
ulated town.
God knows how long the poor outlaw
would have remained III this state had not
IN unfortunate drunkard picked 1t up,
after having coveted the miserable rag
with his drunken eyes, in the hope of sell
ing il 10 procure for himself little brandy
Suddenly he felt sort of electric current
circulate through him. He began to look
around him with his dulled eyes. II was
evident TO him that his head was freeing
itself of the fumes of wine. Little By lit
tie there returned to him that bitter con
sciousness OF the fact that all his living
forces were destroyed by drink.
At first he felt only fear, that blind fear
which sometimes troubles a man when be
feels the presentment of menacing dan
ger. Next his memory disquieted him; his
imagination made its voice heard His
pitiless memory raked out of the dark cor
ners of his shameful life all the details con
corning acts of violence, of treason, of in
Equity. which he had committed, and all
that recalled him the whitening Of his
heart His gination clothed all these
details with ing form - he is.
walked from his long lethargy only to
be turned into a sort of triL before
which he judges himself.
To the unfortunate drunkard his whole
past seems like continual crime, like a
perpetual scandal He does not proceed by
interroCaticns, examination, analysis He
Is crushed 1t the outset by the spectacle Of
his moral fall. and he feels thousand
bunal, before which he has appeared OF his
own accord, than he could he by the most
severe human tribunal He viii not ad-
NIT, in eNtenuation. that the greater part
of his past for which he curses himself did
not wholly depend on himself, an iniirm,
miserable drunkard. but upon a mysteri
Gus and immense power which threw and
dragged him into this world similar TO I
e. q =. L
a frail leaf Of grass across the stcppeS.
What use Is his pssts Why has his life
followed this course and not another road ?
What Is he bim>elI2 Just 80 many ques
tioas TO which he cannot respond except
by complete ignorance and the most pro
found establishment. Alasi the awakened
conscience offers him neither hope nor rec
oncilIation- Hitherto he has lived in a
mist; today the same mist exists, hat pco
pied with mournful visions. For long has |
arms have been feJtcred by heavy chains. /
now the same chains are here, bat their |
weight has doubled because he has under /
stood that they are chains. Our drunkard /
began TO shed useless tears The good I
folk who passed by began to stop round /
about him. and assured him it was the /
wine which was working in him.
but, my friends, I cannot stop weeping: /
1t is beyond my power. " said the unhappy |
man And the crowd burst into shouts q 4
and Knocked him. They did not .
that he had never been less 4
under the influence of wine than now, and /
that he had merely made a sorrowful dis /
covery which tore his heart Had the /
crowd made similar discovery they would I
have aSsuredly understood that there IS a /
grief, the saddest Of all. that OF finding an |
awakened conscience Unexpectedly. They |
would have also understood that they too /
were deiormed in spirit ana a. bruCalized /
as this druukard who was thus lament |
ing.
No" reflected the unhappy one, 81
must re myself Of 1t at any price; other
wise am done for
And he ut once prepared 10 throw his
find on the public road. but was prevented
by the sSence of sergeant Of the town
You, my man." said this last TO him,
shaking his finger at him, look 10 me rs
IL you were about TO distribute abroad
pamphlets II sou do. il viii
tot 5e long before ycu arc strung up. yea
know
The drankard oroo:OtlY concealed his