I have observed that both sexes experience every month, once or twice, a species of periodical derangement, which disturbs the harmony of their affections and their habits, and which assumes the character of an irritation and a melancholy, of which the individual affected can render no reason to himself. Persons of an irritable or enfeebled temperament, experience this derangement in a very sensible manner. I shall speak of it hereafter, more in detail. It will suffice here to remark, that this phenomenon takes place especially at the periods of regular evacuations. Now child-birth arrives at one of these periods; that is, at the time when the woman would have had her tenth menstrual evacuation; it follows, that all the circumstances which are capable of affecting and troubling a woman, then strike her mind with most force. It has generally been observed, that at this period women are more susceptible, more gloomy, more despondent, more easily excited. Is it then surprising, if they are more subject to estrangement, and more likely to adopt fatal resolutions? This same periodical derangement of the mind has sometimes, also, the most deplorable influence on men. We know an individual, who, once a month, is harassed for two or three days by the thought, and even the desire, of committing murder. This desire puts him in a state of anguish and despair; he then hastens to the house of a friend, and begs to be preserved from the misfortune which threatens him. The paroxysm passed, he returns home, delivered from all sort of temptation. It is during this period, that those who are visited with a propensity to suicide, generally put an end to their life. If it be also considered that many girls believe, that, by making such a confession, they inflict disgrace on their family, and that this very obstinacy, in concealing their situation, is itself an evidence that their virtue is not wholly corrupted, it will be seen that it were better to have recourse to milder means, such as establishments where women can lie in privately, and to foundling hospitals, to which they might convey their infants, with the certainty of having their existence provided for. I have treated at length of infanticide; but this is not the only example which shows, that prolonged passions and affections, even when they do not actually produce madness, may alter the dispositions of the soul, and so enfeeble moral liberty, that it is difficult, in such cases, to appreciate the culpability of actions. The following example furnishes a proof of this. Other cases of Moral Liberty greatly weakened. The wife of the honest Joseph Prohaska, soldier in garrison at Breslau, in Silesia, inspired a brutal passion in the first lieutenant of her husband's company. This virtuous wife rejected with perseverance the proposals and the importunities of the lieutenant, and said nothing on the subject to her husband. One day that she carried his dinner to the corps-de-garde, where she had been designedly sent, she found him sitting on the campbed, his face pale and wan, and his eyes fixed on vacancy. Take that away, said he, I have been sufficiently regaled at the exercise and parade ground, and have no appetite. He appointed her a meeting at seven in the evening, at the post. In the interim she learned, from one of the companions of her husband, that the lieutenant had accused him already, several times, at the exercise, of inattention to orders and neglect of his arms; that he had added some injurious expressions, and had repeatedly given him, with his own hands, blows with a cane; that when the battalion was formed, the colonel had, according to custom, ordered the officers to note the negligent soldiers, in order to give them twelve blows at the first pause. Prohaska had twice found himself among the soldiers noted for negligence, and had undergone the punishment prescribed; and, as the feeling of a man was roused within him, he complained with great gentleness, of the injustice done to him; he, was treated as mutinous, and fifteen more blows forced him to silence. He Το Poor When The unhappy woman repeatedly interrupted this recital by exclaiming, "Jesus! it is I who am the cause of this; poor man, you must bear the consequence. will then force me to this!" She returned home. relieve her oppressed feelings, she related to her friends, and to the inhabitants of the same house, what had passed during this day, and her unfortunate connections with the ferocious tormentor of her husband. At seven, she went to the rampart where her husband awaited her. As soon as she was alone with him, she explained all that her natural goodness had till then induced her to keep secret, and begged him to go as soon as relieved from duty, and state his complaint to the colonel. Prohaska heard her with apparent calmness. she had finished, he silently took the supper she had brought him, and only opened his mouth to wish her good night, and entreat her to retire. The poor woman observing that her husband did not, as usual, give her the parting kiss, asked him if he was angry with her, or had any suspicion of her innocence. "No," replied he, "I do not complain of you. Yet you would have done better to have told me earlier the views of the lieutenant; we might now have been beyond the frontiers. At present this is not possible without running great risk as a deserter; for, I doubt not that, between this and to-morrow my pass will be taken from me." "It is taken already," said his wife, bursting into tears; "at half past three, the sergeant came to ask for it, saying, that they were going to change them all for new passes to prevent counterfeiting." "God help us, then," said Prohaska. He seized his wife, embraced her with transport, and let her depart. The poor woman repeated all these particulars to her friends, who made deposition of them at the time of the trial, of which Prohaska verified the accuracy. The next day, it was a Friday, Prohaska returned from guard duty. He found the table laid, sat down with pretended tranquillity, and ate. A soldier who lodged with him, declared at the trial that this man had always been a kind husband and attentive father, but that these two qualities had never more strongly shown themselves, than from this Friday to the fatal moment, when, abandoned by his good angel, deceived by mistaken piety, and greatly weakened in mind and body, he yielded. Saturday, Prohaska worked all the morning. After dinner, during which they said nothing on the subject of their troubles, he said in a low voice to his wife, it is useless to complain. A soldier of Major N's company, carried up some complaint, to-day, against an officer; he was right, but that did not prevent their giving him eighty blows on the back, simply covered with his shirt. I see it well; the life of a soldier is dreadful; henceforth I shall suffer in honor of Gcd; he has himself suffered, and this may be imputed to me as a merit: I shall so manage as to have intercessors in heaven, who will pray for me, that my soul may not remain too long in purgatory. I wish to pardon him who has injured me: do you do the same. To-morrow we will confess, and receive the communion, that the heavenly bread may give more force to our resolution, and that I may not curse the wretch. He meant no doubt to speak of the first lieutenant, and he said nothing more on the subject. Both confessed themselves, and received the communion. To all appearances tranquillity was again established. Prohaska, at dinner, had wine brought him, in order, as he said, to regale himself a little. When he rose from table, there remained a little wine; he gave it to the other soldier and said, "Drink, comrade, and if I have ever injured you, pardon me." His wife asked him if he would take coffee. He thanked her, and proposed a walk. The unhappy wife consented, with pleasure, not suspecting that she was walking to her grave. They took the youngest of their children, and left the eldest in charge of their friends. The two crossed the town together, the wife carrying the child in her arms. Prohaska, under pretext of avoiding the heat of the sun, led his wife under a grove of willows, planted along the glacis of the citadel. Having seated himself near a place called the mouse pond, Prohaska reminded his wife of nursing her child, who immediately fell asleep. She placed it on the grass, and covered it with a handkerchief. Then, Prohaska, wholly occupied with the idea of killing his wife, embraced her, hugged her with transport, kissed her, and asked if in truth she had that day made confession of all her sins without exception, experienced true repentance and absolution. She answered yes to all these questions. He pressed her again with his left hand and while they interchanged the tenderest endearments, he gave her a stab with his right hand, which pierced her to the heart. He then let his wife fall gently on the grass, having thus sacrificed her to his religious delirium, and, as some convulsive movements seemed still to betray some remains of life, fearing that she might still be suffering pain, he, to shorten its duration, cut her throat. He contented himself with taking from the pocket of his wife, the key of the house; and, having washed his hands in the pond, and thrown away his knife, he took his infant, who was still sleeping, and returned home by another way. By his own confession, he ran very quickly, because he feared that if his wife's body were discovered, he should be suspected and arrested; which would have prevented him from snatching his two dear children from a perverse and wretched world, and sending them to heaven to serve as intercessors for him. On returning home, he placed the infant in the cradle, still asleep. He then went in pursuit of his neighbors, begged the wife of the old messenger of the regency, to go out of the gate of Schweidnitz, and pointed out to her the place where she would find his wife; adding that he had left her well, but very weak, having been taken ill during the walk; that she had sat down to rest herself, and had begged him to return with the child. He ended by saying that he was too tired to go back himself. The good woman hastened to comply with his request, and would have taken the infant. This |