The Facts Concerning The Recent Carnival Of Crime In Connecticut

M >> Mark Twain (Samuel Clemens) >> The Facts Concerning The Recent Carnival Of Crime In Connecticut


"This is flattering; you must be asleep a good part of your time."

"Yes, of late years. I should be asleep all the time but for the help I
get."

"Who helps you?"

"Other consciences. Whenever a person whose conscience I am acquainted
with tries to plead with you about the vices you are callous to, I get my
friend to give his client a pang concerning some villainy of his own,
and that shuts off his meddling and starts him off to hunt personal
consolation. My field of usefulness is about trimmed down to tramps,
budding authoresses, and that line of goods now; but don't you worry
--I'll harry you on theirs while they last! Just you put your trust in
me."

"I think I can. But if you had only been good enough to mention these
facts some thirty years ago, I should have turned my particular attention
to sin, and I think that by this time I should not only have had you
pretty permanently asleep on the entire list of human vices, but reduced
to the size of a homeopathic pill, at that. That is about the style of
conscience I am pining for. If I only had you shrunk you down to a
homeopathic pill, and could get my hands on you, would I put you in a
glass case for a keepsake? No, sir. I would give you to a yellow dog!
That is where you ought to be--you and all your tribe. You are not fit
to be in society, in my opinion. Now another question. Do you know a
good many consciences in this section?"

"Plenty of them."

"I would give anything to see some of them! Could you bring them here?
And would they be visible to me?"

"Certainly not."

"I suppose I ought to have known that without asking. But no matter, you
can describe them. Tell me about my neighbor Thompson's conscience,
please."

"Very well. I know him intimately; have known him many years. I knew
him when he was eleven feet high and of a faultless figure. But he is
very pasty and tough and misshapen now, and hardly ever interests himself
about anything. As to his present size--well, he sleeps in a cigar-box."

"Likely enough. There are few smaller, meaner men in this region than
Hugh Thompson. Do you know Robinson's conscience?"

"Yes. He is a shade under four and a half feet high; used to be a blond;
is a brunette now, but still shapely and comely."

"Well, Robinson is a good fellow. Do you know Tom Smith's conscience?"

"I have known him from childhood. He was thirteen inches high, and
rather sluggish, when he was two years old--as nearly all of us are at
that age. He is thirty-seven feet high now, and the stateliest figure in
America. His legs are still racked with growing-pains, but he has a good
time, nevertheless. Never sleeps. He is the most active and energetic
member of the New England Conscience Club; is president of it. Night and
day you can find him pegging away at Smith, panting with his labor,
sleeves rolled up, countenance all alive with enjoyment. He has got his
victim splendidly dragooned now. He can make poor Smith imagine that the
most innocent little thing he does is an odious sin; and then he sets to
work and almost tortures the soul out of him about it."

"Smith is the noblest man in all this section, and the purest; and yet is
always breaking his heart because he cannot be good! Only a conscience
could find pleasure in heaping agony upon a spirit like that. Do you
know my aunt Mary's conscience?"

"I have seen her at a distance, but am not acquainted with her. She
lives in the open air altogether, because no door is large enough to
admit her."

"I can believe that. Let me see. Do you know the conscience of that
publisher who once stole some sketches of mine for a 'series' of his, and
then left me to pay the law expenses I had to incur in order to choke him
off?"

"Yes. He has a wide fame. He was exhibited, a month ago, with some
other antiquities, for the benefit of a recent Member of the Cabinet's
conscience that was starving in exile. Tickets and fares were high, but
I traveled for nothing by pretending to be the conscience of an editor,
and got in for half-price by representing myself to be the conscience of
a clergyman. However, the publisher's conscience, which was to have been
the main feature of the entertainment, was a failure--as an exhibition.
He was there, but what of that? The management had provided a microscope
with a magnifying power of only thirty thousand diameters, and so nobody
got to see him, after all. There was great and general dissatisfaction,
of course, but--"

Just here there was an eager footstep on the stair; I opened the door,
and my aunt Mary burst into the room. It was a joyful meeting and a
cheery bombardment of questions and answers concerning family matters
ensued. By and by my aunt said:

"But I am going to abuse you a little now. You promised me, the day I
saw you last, that you would look after the needs of the poor family
around the corner as faithfully as I had done it myself. Well, I found
out by accident that you failed of your promise. Was that right?"

In simple truth, I never had thought of that family a second time! And
now such a splintering pang of guilt shot through me! I glanced up at my
Conscience. Plainly, my heavy heart was affecting him. His body was
drooping forward; he seemed about to fall from the bookcase. My aunt
continued:

"And think how you have neglected my poor protege at the almshouse, you
dear, hard-hearted promise-breaker!" I blushed scarlet, and my tongue
was tied. As the sense of my guilty negligence waxed sharper and
stronger, my Conscience began to sway heavily back and forth; and when my
aunt, after a little pause, said in a grieved tone, "Since you never once
went to see her, maybe it will not distress you now to know that that
poor child died, months ago, utterly friendless and forsaken!"
My Conscience could no longer bear up under the weight of my sufferings,
but tumbled headlong from his high perch and struck the floor with a
dull, leaden thump. He lay there writhing with pain and quaking with
apprehension, but straining every muscle in frantic efforts to get up.
In a fever of expectancy I sprang to the door, locked it, placed my back
against it, and bent a watchful gaze upon my struggling master. Already
my fingers were itching to begin their murderous work.

"Oh, what can be the matter!" exclaimed by aunt, shrinking from me, and
following with her frightened eyes the direction of mine. My breath was
coming in short, quick gasps now, and my excitement was almost
uncontrollable. My aunt cried out:

"Oh, do not look so! You appal me! Oh, what can the matter be? What is
it you see? Why do you stare so? Why do you work your fingers like
that?"

"Peace, woman!" I said, in a hoarse whisper. "Look elsewhere; pay no
attention to me; it is nothing--nothing. I am often this way. It will
pass in a moment. It comes from smoking too much."

My injured lord was up, wild-eyed with terror, and trying to hobble
toward the door. I could hardly breathe, I was so wrought up. My aunt
wrung her hands, and said:

"Oh, I knew how it would be; I knew it would come to this at last!
Oh, I implore you to crush out that fatal habit while it may yet be time!
You must not, you shall not be deaf to my supplications longer!"
My struggling Conscience showed sudden signs of weariness! "Oh, promise
me you will throw off this hateful slavery of tobacco!" My Conscience
began to reel drowsily, and grope with his hands--enchanting spectacle!
"I beg you, I beseech you, I implore you! Your reason is deserting you!
There is madness in your eye! It flames with frenzy! Oh, hear me, hear
me, and be saved! See, I plead with you on my very knees!" As she sank
before me my Conscience reeled again, and then drooped languidly to the
floor, blinking toward me a last supplication for mercy, with heavy eyes.
"Oh, promise, or you are lost! Promise, and be redeemed! Promise!
Promise and live!" With a long-drawn sigh my conquered Conscience closed
his eyes and fell fast asleep!

With an exultant shout I sprang past my aunt, and in an instant I had my
lifelong foe by the throat. After so many years of waiting and longing,
he was mine at last. I tore him to shreds and fragments. I rent the
fragments to bits. I cast the bleeding rubbish into the fire, and drew
into my nostrils the grateful incense of my burnt-offering. At last, and
forever, my Conscience was dead!

I was a free man! I turned upon my poor aunt, who was almost petrified
with terror, and shouted:

"Out of this with your paupers, your charities, your reforms, your
pestilent morals! You behold before you a man whose life-conflict is
done, whose soul is at peace; a man whose heart is dead to sorrow, dead
to suffering, dead to remorse; a man WITHOUT A CONSCIENCE! In my joy I
spare you, though I could throttle you and never feel a pang! Fly!"

She fled. Since that day my life is all bliss. Bliss, unalloyed bliss.
Nothing in all the world could persuade me to have a conscience again.
I settled all my old outstanding scores, and began the world anew.
I killed thirty-eight persons during the first two weeks--all of them on
account of ancient grudges. I burned a dwelling that interrupted my
view. I swindled a widow and some orphans out of their last cow, which
is a very good one, though not thoroughbred, I believe. I have also
committed scores of crimes, of various kinds, and have enjoyed my work
exceedingly, whereas it would formerly have broken my heart and turned my
hair gray, I have no doubt.

In conclusion, I wish to state, by way of advertisement, that medical
colleges desiring assorted tramps for scientific purposes, either by the
gross, by cord measurement, or per ton, will do well to examine the lot
in my cellar before purchasing elsewhere, as these were all selected and
prepared by myself, and can be had at a low rate, because I wish to
clear, out my stock and get ready for the spring trade.