Effects of despair.

Death of Mr. Laferrière, member of the Institute. — Suicide of Mr. Léon L… — The widow and the doctor.

Death of Mr. Laferrière, member of the Institute.

— Merely to record the deadly accidents that come to the knowledge of the public, caused by despair, volumes upon volumes would be necessary. How many suicides, illnesses, involuntary deaths, cases of madness, acts of vengeance, even crimes, does it produce every day! A very instructive statistic would be that of the first causes that led to the disturbance of the brain; in it one would see that despair enters into at least four-fifths. But it is not with this that we wish to occupy ourselves today. Here are two facts signaled by the newspapers, not by way of novelties, but as a subject of observation. One reads in the Siècle of last February 17 the account of the funeral of Mr. Laferrière:

“Last Tuesday we conducted to her last resting place, with a few saddened friends, a young woman of twenty years, carried off by an illness of a few days. The father of this only daughter was Mr. Laferrière, member of the Institute, inspector-general of the Faculties of Law. The excess of grief struck down this unhappy father, and the resignation of the Christian faith was powerless to console him.

“Thirty-six hours later, death struck a second blow, and the same week, which had separated the daughter from the father, reunited them anew. A numerous and dismayed crowd followed today the coffin of Mr. Laferrière.”

According to the newspaper, Mr. Laferrière had religious sentiments, which we appreciate, for one must not believe that all scholars are materialists. Nevertheless, these sentiments did not prevent him from succumbing to despair. We are convinced that if he had had less vague and more positive ideas about the future, such as Spiritism gives; if he had believed in his daughter's presence at his side; if he had had the consolation of communicating with her, he would surely have understood that he was separated from her only materially and for a certain time; and he would have had patience, submitting himself to the will of God as to the moment of their reunion; he would have calmed himself by the idea that his own despair was a cause of disturbance to the happiness of the object of his affection.

— These reflections apply still, and with more reason, to the following fact, which one reads in the Siècle of last March 1:

“Mr. Léon L…, aged 25, an omnibus contractor of Villemonble, in Paris, had married, about two years ago, a young woman whom he loved passionately. The birth of a son, today one year of age, had come to draw the affection of the couple still closer. As their business prospered, everything seemed to presage for them a long future of happiness.

“A few months ago Mrs. L… was suddenly stricken with typhoid fever and, despite the most assiduous care, in spite of all the resources of Science, succumbed in a short time. From that moment, Mr. L… was seized with a great melancholy, from which nothing could draw him. He was often heard to say that life was hateful to him and that he would go to rejoin the one who had taken away all his happiness.

“Yesterday, returning from Paris in his cabriolet, around seven o'clock in the evening, Mr. L… handed the vehicle over to the groom and, without saying a word to anyone, entered a room situated on the ground floor, adjoining the dining room. An hour later, a maidservant came to announce that dinner was served. He answered that he had need of nothing more; he was reclined upon the table, his head resting on his hands, and seemed seized with complete prostration.

“The servant alerted the parents, who came to the side of their son. He had lost consciousness. They ran in search of Dr. Dubois. Upon his arrival the doctor ascertained that Léon no longer existed. He had poisoned himself with the aid of a strong dose of opiate, which he had bought for his horses.

“The death of the young man caused a vivid impression in the region, where he enjoyed general esteem.”

Certainly Mr. Léon L… believed in the future life, since he killed himself in order to go and rejoin his wife. Had he known, through Spiritism, the fate that awaits suicides, he would have known that, far from hastening the moment of that union, it was an infallible means of delaying it.

— To these two facts we counterpose the following, showing the dominion that Spiritist beliefs can exercise over the resolutions of those who possess them.

One of our correspondents transmits to us what follows:

“A lady of my acquaintance had lost her husband, whose death was attributed to a medical error. The widow was seized with such resentment against the latter that she pursued him incessantly with invectives and threats, saying to him, wherever she met him: ‘Executioner, you shall not die except by my hand!’ This lady was very pious and a good Catholic; but it was in vain that, to calm her, they had recourse to the aids of religion; it reached the point that the doctor judged he ought to address himself to the authorities, for his own safety. “Spiritism counts numerous adherents in the city inhabited by this lady. One of my friends, an excellent Spiritist, said to her one day: – What would you think if you could still converse with your husband? – Oh! said she, if I knew that such were possible! If I had the certainty of not having lost him forever, I would console myself and would wait. They soon gave her the proof; her own husband came to minister counsel and consolation to her, and she had, by the language of her consort, no doubt as to his presence near her. From then on a complete revolution was operated in her spirit; despair gave way to calm, and the ideas of vengeance gave place to resignation. Eight days later she went to the doctor's house, who was not very secure as to that visit; but, far from threatening him, she extends her hand to him and says: ‘Fear nothing, sir; I come to ask you to forgive me the harm I have done you, as I forgive you what you did to me involuntarily. It was my own husband who advised me to the posture I take at this moment; he told me that you were absolutely not the cause of his death. Besides, I now have the certainty that he is near me, sees and watches over me, and that one day we shall be reunited. Thus, sir, do not bear me ill will, as, for my part, I no longer wish you ill.’ Needless to say that the doctor accepted the reconciliation at once and was eager to learn the mysterious cause to which, henceforth, he owed his tranquility. Thus, without Spiritism, this lady would probably have committed a crime, however religious she was. Does this prove the uselessness of religion? No, not at all, but only the insufficiency of the ideas it gives of the future, presenting it in such a vague manner that it leaves in many people a kind of uncertainty, whereas Spiritism, allowing one, so to speak, to touch it with the finger, gives birth in the soul to a more complete confidence and security. To the father who has lost his son, to the son who has lost his father, to the husband who has lost his adored wife, what consolation does the materialist give? He says: Everything is finished; of the being who was so dear to you nothing remains, absolutely nothing, save that body which will soon be dissolved. But of his intelligence, of his moral qualities, of the instruction acquired, nothing; all this is nothingness; you have lost him forever. The Spiritist, on the other hand, says: Of all this nothing is lost; everything exists; only the perishable envelope is wanting, but the Spirit, freed from its prison, is radiant; here he is, near you; he sees you, he hears you, and he awaits you. Oh! how much harm the materialists do by inoculating, with their sophisms, the poison of incredulity! They have never loved; if it were otherwise, could they see, impassive, the objects of their affection reduced to a heap of dust? It seems, then, that for them God has reserved greater rigors, since we see them reduced to the most deplorable position in the world of the Spirits; God is so much the less indulgent toward them the nearer they were to enlightening themselves. [1] Translator's Note: In the original laudanum (láudano): a medicine whose base is opium.