“Paradox, all paradox!” cried Albert. “Not so paradoxical as you imagine,” I replied. “You admit that we call a disease mortal when Nature is so severely attacked and her strength so far exhausted that she cannot possibly recover, no matter what the change that may take place.
“Now, my friend, apply this to the mind; observe a man in his natural, confined condition; consider how ideas work upon him, and how impressions affect him, till at length a violent passion seizes him, destroys all his powers of calm reflection, and utterly ruins him.
“It is in vain that a man of sound mind and cool temper recognizes the condition of such a wretched being, in vain that he counsels him. Just as a healthy man cannot impart his strength to an invalid.”
Albert thought this too general. I reminded him about a girl who had drowned herself a short time previously, and I related her story.
“She was a good creature, who had grown up in the narrow sphere of her domestic chores and weekly appointed labor; one who knew no pleasure beyond a walk in the company of her friends on Sundays, dressed in her best clothes, which she had got together gradually; or perhaps going to a dance now and then during the holidays, and chatting away her spare hours with a neighbor, discussing the scandals or the quarrels of the village—trifles sufficient to occupy her heart. At length the warmth of her nature is aroused by unfamiliar desires. She is flattered by the attentions of men; her former pleasures seem to her more and more insipid, till eventually she meets a young man to whom she is attracted by a strange, new feeling; upon him she now rests all her hopes; she forgets the world around her; she sees, hears, desires nothing but him, and him only. He alone occupies all her thoughts. Unspoiled by the empty indulgence of enervating vanity, her affection moving steadily towards its object, she hopes to be his, and to realize, in an everlasting union with him, all that happiness which she sought, all that bliss for which she longed. His repeated promises confirm her hopes; embraces and endearments, which increase the ardor of her desires, overpower her soul. She floats in a dim, delusive anticipation of her happiness; and her feelings become excited to their utmost tension. She stretches out her arms finally to embrace the object of all her wishes—and her lover abandons her. Stunned and bewildered, she stands upon a precipice. All is darkness around her. No prospect, no hope, no consolation—forsaken by him in whom her existence was centered! She sees nothing of the world before her, thinks nothing of the many others who might fill the void in her heart; she feels herself deserted, forsaken by all the world; and, unseeing and impelled by the agony in her soul, she plunges into the deep, to end her sufferings in the broad embrace of death. You see, Albert, this is the story of thousands; and now tell me, is not this a case of physical infirmity? Nature can find no way out of the labyrinth of confusion and contradiction; and the poor creature must die.
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