And thus the sacrifice of
Society--and the Exchequer--goes to the tomb amid contempt, and hissing,
and scorn; while the saddest thing of all is that those who loved him
most passionately are most glad to hear the clods thump on his coffin.
I believe, if you let me keep a youngster for an hour in a room with me,
I could tell him enough stories from my own shuddery experience to
frighten him off drink for life. I should cause him to be haunted.
There is none of the rage of the convert in all this; I knew what I was
doing when I went into the base and sordid homes of ruin during years,
and I want to know how any justification _not_ fitted for the libretto
of an extravaganza can be given by certain parliamentary gentlemen in
order that we may be satisfied with their conduct. My wanderings and
freaks do not count; I was a Bohemian, with the tastes of a Romany and
the curiosity of a philosopher; I went into the most abominable company
because it amused me and I had only myself to please, and I saw what a
fearfully tense grip the monster, Drink, has taken of this nation; and
let me say that you cannot understand that one little bit, if you are
content to knock about with a policeman and squint at signboards.
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