So that most of what goes on among us, whether done by people who rule and teach others, or by those who are ruled and taught, is done when the doers are not sober.
And let not this be taken as a joke or an exaggeration; the confusion, and, above all, the imbecility, of our lives, arises chiefly from the constant state of intoxication in which most people live. Could people who are not drunk possibly do all that is being done around us—from building the Eiffel Tower to accepting military service?
Without any need whatever, a company is formed, capital collected, men labour, make calculations, and draw plans; millions of working days and thousands of tons of iron are spent to build a tower; and millions of people consider it their duty to climb up it, stop awhile on it, and then climb down again; and the building and visiting of this tower evoke no other reflection than a wish and intention to build other towers, in other places, still bigger. Could sober people act like that? Or take another case. All the European peoples have for dozens of years past been busy devising the very best ways of killing people, and teaching as many young men as possible, as soon as they reach manhood, how to murder. Everyone knows that there can be no invasion by barbarians, but that these preparations made by the different civilized and Christian nations are directed against one another; all know that this is burdensome, painful, inconvenient, ruinous, immoral, impious, and irrational—but all continue to prepare for mutual murder. Some devise political combinations to decide who, with what allies, is to kill whom; others
moral plane, the less does he feel the discord between his conscience and his life, and, therefore, the less does he feel a craving to stupefy himself; and, on the other hand, a parallel reason explains why the most sensitive natures—those which immediately and morbidly feel the discord between life and conscience—so often indulge in narcoticsand perish by them.—L. T.
