Suicide “for love”

— For seven or eight months Louis G…, a journeyman shoemaker, had been courting a young woman, Victorine R…, whom he was soon to marry, the banns of the marriage having even already been published.

Things being at this point, they considered themselves almost definitively bound and, as an economic measure, the shoemaker came daily to lunch and dine at the bride's home.

Last Wednesday, at dinner, a controversy arose over some triviality, and, the two persisting in their opinions, things went so far that Louis left the table, declaring he would not come back again.

Despite this, the following day, much embarrassed, he came to ask forgiveness. The night is a good counselor, as is known, but the girl, prejudging perhaps from the scene of the previous evening what might happen when there would no longer be time to remedy the harm, refused the reconciliation. Neither protests, nor tears, nor despair could move her. Many more days passed, while he hoped that his beloved would be more reasonable, until he resolved to make one last attempt: – Arriving at the girl's house, he knocked in a manner so as to be recognized, but the door remained closed; they refused to open it for him. New entreaties from the rejected one; new protests, did not echo in the heart of his intended. “Farewell, then, cruel one! – exclaimed the poor young man – farewell forever. Go and seek a husband who esteems you as much as I do.” At the same time the girl heard a muffled groan and immediately afterward the thud as of a body sliding down the door. By the silence that followed, the girl judged that Louis had sat down on the doorstep, and she vowed to herself not to go out as long as he remained there. A quarter of an hour having elapsed, a tenant, passing along the sidewalk and carrying a light, cried out in fright and called for help. Soon the neighbors arrived; opening the door as well, Miss Victorine let out a cry of horror upon perceiving her fiancé stretched out on the ground, pale and lifeless. All hastened to render him aid; they considered calling a doctor, but soon realized that all would be useless, since he had ceased to exist. The wretched young man had buried a knife in the region of the heart, and the blade had remained embedded in the wound.

— This fact, which we found in the Siècle of last April 7, awakened in us the idea of addressing to a superior Spirit some questions about its moral consequences. Here they are, as well as the answers that were given to us by the Spirit Saint Louis, in the session of the Society on August 10, 1858.

Does the girl, the involuntary cause of the suicide, bear responsibility?

Answer. – Yes, because she did not love him.

Then, in order to prevent the misfortune, should she have married him despite the repugnance he caused her?

Answer. – She was seeking an occasion to rid herself of him, and so she did at the beginning of the relationship what she would have come to do later on.

In this case, does her responsibility arise from her having fostered sentiments in which she did not share and which resulted in the young man's suicide?

Answer. – Yes, exactly.

But then this responsibility must be proportional to the fault, and not as great as if she had consciously and voluntarily provoked the suicide…

Answer. – That is evident.

And does Louis's suicide have an excuse in the derangement that Victorine's obstinacy brought upon him?

Answer. – Yes, for suicide arising from love is less criminal in the eyes of God than the suicide of one who seeks to free himself from life out of cowardice.

Observation. – By saying that this suicide is less criminal in the eyes of God, this evidently means that there is criminality, though in a lesser degree. The fault consists in the weakness that he was unable to overcome. It was, no doubt, a trial to which he succumbed. Now, the Spirits teach us that merit consists in struggling victoriously against trials of every kind, which are the very essence of earthly life.

— To the Spirit Louis G…, evoked later, the following questions were put:

What do you think of the act you committed?

Answer. – Victorine was an ingrate, and I did wrong to kill myself for her sake, for she did not deserve it.

Then she did not love you?

Answer. – No. At first she deceived herself, but the disagreement we had opened her eyes, and she even counted herself happy to find a pretext to be rid of me.

And was your love for her sincere?

Answer. – Mere passion, believe me; for if the love had been pure I would have spared myself from causing her any distress.

And if by chance she had guessed your intention, would she have persisted in her refusal?

Answer. – I do not know, indeed I think not, because she is not wicked. But, even so, she would not have been happy, and it was better for her that things happened in such a way.

When you knocked at her door, did you already have the idea of killing yourself, in case the refusal occurred?

Answer. – No, I did not think of such a thing, because I also did not count on her obstinacy. It was only at the sight of this that I lost my reason.

It seems that you deplore the suicide only because of the fact that Victorine did not deserve it… Is that really your only regret?

Answer. – At this moment, yes; I am still troubled, it seems to me that I am still at the door, although I also feel another sensation that I cannot define.

Will you come to understand it later?

Answer. – Yes, when I am free from this disturbance. I did wrong, I should have resigned myself… I was weak and I suffer the consequences of my weakness. Passion blinds man to the point of committing follies, and unfortunately he understands it only quite late.

You say that you have a regret… what is it?

Answer. – I did wrong to shorten my life. I should not have done it. It was preferable to endure everything rather than to die before my time. I am, therefore, unhappy; I suffer, and it is always she who makes me suffer, the ingrate. It seems to me that I am always at her door, but… let us no longer speak nor think of it, for it troubles me greatly. Farewell. Allan Kardec.

Paris. Typ. de COSSON ET Cie, rue du Four-Saint-Germain, 43.

[1] Translator's note: See in Heaven and Hell by Allan Kardec, Second Part, chapter V, the article: Louis and the boot-stitcher.