The man
had a real gift of imagination and spoke with an eagerness and eloquence
that stirred me deeply. I was almost on the point of asking him where
his magic liquor was to be found! When he finally gave me an opening, I
said:
"I think I understand. Many men I know are in some respects drunkards.
They all want some way to escape themselves--to be free of their own
limitations."
"That's it! That's it!" he exclaimed eagerly.
We sat for a time side by side, saying nothing. I could not help
thinking of that line of Virgil referring to quite another sort of
intoxication:
"With Voluntary dreams they cheat their minds."
Instead of that beautiful unity of thought and action which marks the
finest character, here was this poor tragedy of the divided life. When
Fate would destroy a man it first separates his forces! It drives him to
think one way and act another; it encourages him to seek through outward
stimulation--whether drink, or riches, or fame--a deceptive and unworthy
satisfaction in place of that true contentment which comes only from
unity within. No man can be two men successfully.
So we sat and said nothing. What indeed can any man _say_ to another
under such circumstances? As Bobbie Burns remarks out of the depths of
his own experience:
"What's done we partly may compute
But know not what's resisted.
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