The Wichita daily eagle. [volume] (Wichita, Kan.) 1890-1906, 1904-05-20
LIFE UNDERGROUND

So, my dear Edward. it is all over
, Ny sanity is proved by the satisfaction
IF the lawyers and the medicine men
and poor Herbert VIII not at present have
the management of my affairs. l fear he
Is sadly disappointed / have made a
new will today, and when nature calls
me from this world and the contents OF
that will becomes known he will be sad
lydsappointed again. 1t Is possible thai
he will try once more then The OLD
stories of the Temple of Aphrodite In the
park and of my Underground mansion and
of the immense sums | have squanoereo
On item will be brought out again-any-
thing to prove that l was not of sound
disposing mind. Really the newspapers
ought to substitute poor Herbert. He
gives them such stories.
And what will you say in defense when
that day comes and l can no longer speak
for myself?
You have an easy tolerance. Edward.
You admit that l have spent these vast
sums and that ] have spent them on
objects on which the ordinary rich man
would not car twopence. But as you
pointed out TO Herbert. the money was
mine to do as / would, nor am in spite
of all the expense ruined in fortune. On
the question of my desire at times to live
underground you refused to see any evil
dence of madness there. Every man,
you added, truly, has some eccentricity
or other"
Yes, l am sanguine enough and opti-
nistic enough TO believe that even the
ess or minor poet-in, some respect,
mere trife though il may be, is differ
entiated from the others. But II you i'm
port into that word, eccentricity, any
hint or irrationality or weakness. then,
SO far as my underground life is con-
ccrned, join issue with you. l have no
reasons for what 1 do.
Nor can | admit that l am so very I'M
usual. The temporary withdrawal from
the world is a luxury for many natures
and a necessity for some. 1t may be
the desert or the mountain top, or the
hermits cave, OF, as in my own case,
the more complete seclusion of an under
ground dwelling. One would hear more
of such things if more men had the cour-
age of their opinions or could pay the
price of their satisfaction.
Imagine if you can all that the iron
outer doors of the descending stairs shut
out for me. Down there the engines of
the world are stopped and the rattle is
still. There is no fatal recurrence of day
and night, and one loses that intolerabie
sense of time going on as a turning wheel
in a vast mill where mortals are but the
- &c 81 fba
light and always the same hour. The
past that l spent in the world above be-
comes to me quite unreal, and the pres
ent moment is perfect rest. And the fu-
ture? There seems to be none. The en-
gines of the world are stopped: l am no
longer the grain in the mill, / am Il
am the Captain Of my SOUL Freewill
may still be a deluson, but the delusion
is complete.
You shake your head and talk of nuer-
asthenia; names have never frightened
me. You may call ii that IL you like.
and you may call my life underground
the treatment. For il is due to that
withdrawn and secluded life that I can
come back to the world sane and steady
inherit poor Herbert. Names do not
Brighten me. but 1 am d coward before
facts. This TO the ordinary man is an
idyllic spit in the open county, peace
full resting place for the over-civilized
and over-tired. 1t is not so to me. 1t is
full of torturing facts. / stand appalled,
as much before the needless and inevi-
table fecundity as before the pitiless and
tnevita bic destructiveness of nature. All
Nat is inevitable is TO me terrifying It
S nothing that the streams run down
ward and that the stone released from
my hand falls to the ground; but II is
everything to me that the stream must
run downward and the stone must fall.
1t gives me no sensation of benefcient
law and order. / feel as If l were being
carried away. / know not whittier. on
some machine that l can neither control
nor understand. L am frightened And
Just as a terrified child buries its head
under the bedclothes so / go TO my I'M
foreground dwelling, the expensive con-
struction of which annoyed poor Her
bert so much.
Do not tell me-snce l am well aware
Of it-that time goes on and the natural
laws are not suspended below ground
know it; but down there the evidence
Is less overpowering. Do not think. eth
er, that this terror is always with me.
II it had been so poor Herbert would
have had his way. There are days when
a flower is to me the same thing of beau
ty and fragrance that IL is TO others.
and nights when L can listen TO the night
Ingales in my garden with joy. l can
talk then without great trouble of local
politics and cricket scores to the some
what Indifferent specimens OF my spe-
cies that live in this neighborhood
am-to use your favorite word-normal
And then the day comes when / can see
nothing in the flower but a grotesque
and purposeless reproduction of its kind.
more bitter for its beauty. when every
village child in the street is a tragedy
On every life-every useless lfe-is a
death for its birthmark
And this is. of course. especially ter
rble In the springtime The wheel is at
The height of its revolution: the furnace
roars: the engine throbs. The mighty
machine that makes and breaks us works
overtime. II only one could find in ma
lure the least human analogy. If only
n the purpose at the hack of things one
could discern a standard of values which
vas humanity comprehensive, But IT is |
not so. Nature knows nothing of utility. |
" beauty. or nobility as we know them. |
II knows nothing even of cruelty. If it |
we're maliciously inhuman one might |
bear il; but il is not human And the |
highest we can think or do may be a Jest |
elsewhere 10 other beings.
and since it is now the springtim my |
lera Edward. and since poor Herbert has /