by Mark Twain
There are few smaller, meaner men in this region thanHugh 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, andrather sluggish, when he was two years old--as nearly all of us are atthat age. He is thirty-seven feet high now, and the stateliest figure inAmerica. His legs are still racked with growing-pains, but he has a goodtime, nevertheless. Never sleeps. He is the most active and energeticmember of the New England Conscience Club; is president of it. Nightand day you can find him pegging away at Smith, panting with his labor,sleeves rolled up, countenance all alive with enjoyment. He has got hisvictim splendidly dragooned now. He can make poor Smith imagine that themost innocent little thing he does is an odious sin; and then he sets towork and almost tortures the soul out of him about it."
"Smith is the noblest man in all this section, and the purest; andyet is always breaking his heart because he cannot be good! Only aconscience 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. Shelives in the open air altogether, because no door is large enough toadmit her."
"I can believe that. Let me see. Do you know the conscience of thatpublisher 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 tochoke him off?"
"Yes. He has a wide fame. He was exhibited, a month ago, with someother antiquities, for the benefit of a recent Member of the Cabinet'sconscience that was starving in exile. Tickets and fares were high, butI 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 ofa clergyman. However, the publisher's conscience, which was to have beenthe main feature of the entertainment, was a failure--as an exhibition.He was there, but what of that? The management had provided a microscopewith a magnifying power of only thirty thousand diameters, and so nobodygot 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 acheery bombardment of questions and answers concerning family mattersensued. By and by my aunt said:
"But I am going to abuse you a little now. You promised me, the day Isaw you last, that you would look after the needs of the poor familyaround the corner as faithfully as I had done it myself. Well, I foundout by accident that you failed of your promise. Was that right?"
In simple truth, I never had thought of that family a second time! Andnow such a splintering pang of guilt shot through me! I glanced up atmy Conscience. Plainly, my heavy heart was affecting him. His body wasdrooping forward; he seemed about to fall from the bookcase. My auntcontinued:
"And think how you have neglected my poor protege at the almshouse, youdear, hard-hearted promise-breaker!" I blushed scarlet, and my tonguewas tied. As the sense of my guilty negligence waxed sharper andstronger, my Conscience began to sway heavily back and forth; and whenmy aunt, after a little pause, said in a grieved tone, "Since you neveronce went to see her, maybe it will not distress you now to know thatthat poor child died, months ago, utterly friendless and forsaken!" MyConscience could no longer bear up under the weight of my sufferings,but tumbled headlong from his high perch and struck the floor with adull, leaden thump. He lay there writhing with pain and quaking withapprehension, but straining every muscle in frantic efforts to get up.In a fever of expectancy I sprang to the door, locked it, placed my backagainst it, and bent a watchful gaze upon my struggling master. Alreadymy fingers were itching to begin their murderous work.
"Oh, what can be the matter!" exclaimed by aunt, shrinking from me, andfollowing with her frightened eyes the direction of mine. My breathwas coming in short, quick gasps now, and my excitement was almostuncontrollable. My aunt cried out:
"Oh, do not look so! You appal me! Oh, what can the matter be? Whatis it you see? Why do you stare so? Why do you work your fingers likethat?"
"Peace, woman!" I said, in a hoarse whisper. "Look elsewhere; pay noattention to me; it is nothing--nothing. I am often this way. It willpass in a moment. It comes from smoking too much."
My injured lord was up, wild-eyed with terror, and trying to hobbletoward the door. I could hardly breathe, I was so wrought up. My auntwrung her hands, and said:
"Oh, I knew how it would be; I knew it would come to this at last! Oh, Iimplore 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!" Mystruggling Conscience showed sudden signs of weariness! "Oh, promise meyou will throw off this hateful slavery of tobacco!" My Conscience beganto reel drowsily, and grope with his hands--enchanting spectacle! "I begyou, I beseech you, I implore you! Your reason is deserting you! Thereis madness in your eye! It flames with frenzy! Oh, hear me, hear me, andbe saved! See, I plead with you on my very knees!" As she sank beforeme 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 andlive!" With a long-drawn sigh my conquered Conscience closed his eyesand fell fast asleep!
With an exultant shout I sprang past my aunt, and in an instant I had mylifelong 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 thefragments to bits. I cast the bleeding rubbish into the fire, and drewinto my nostrils the grateful incense of my burnt-offering. At last, andforever, my Conscience was dead!
I was a free man! I turned upon my poor aunt, who was almost petrifiedwith terror, and shouted:
"Out of this with your paupers, your charities, your reforms, yourpestilent morals! You behold before you a man whose life-conflict isdone, whose soul is at peace; a man whose heart is dead to sorrow, deadto suffering, dead to remorse; a man WITHOUT A CONSCIENCE! In my joy Ispare 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. Ikilled thirty-eight persons during the first two weeks--all of themon account of ancient grudges. I burned a dwelling that interrupted myview. I swindled a widow and some orphans out of their last cow, whichis a very good one, though not thoroughbred, I believe. I have alsocommitted scores of crimes, of various kinds, and have enjoyed my workexceedingly, whereas it would formerly have broken my heart and turnedmy hair gray, I have no doubt.
In conclusion, I wish to state, by way of advertisement, that medicalcolleges desiring assorted tramps for scientific purposes, either by thegross, by cord measurement, or per ton, will do well to examine the lotin my cellar before purchasing elsewhere, as these were all selectedand prepared by myself, and can be had at a low rate, because I wish toclear, out my stock and get ready for the spring trade.
