“‘Send me a man after my own heart,’ cry the poor deluded ones to the Almighty, often with bitter tears. ‘Then I shall be happy, will believe in Thy might, and will bless and praise Thy name. I despise the low, sinful people by whom I am surrounded, and I suffer through this very fact. I long to bow my head before some nobler being, some man who has only virtues, and to whom I could all my life look up in adoration.’ “What answer can God give to such prayers, however sincere and agonized they may be? They remain ungranted, and little by little they turn into murmurs, discontent, and finally, unbelief. “‘Were there a God,’ think these unfortunates, with a burning sense of injustice, ‘He would pay attention to my sufferings. Once He remains silent, this proves that He does not exist.’ “The only result is a wrecked life, void of happiness, and without benefit to anybody. “Such diseased characters ought to be treated and cured in childhood. Their interest in life should be artificially educated. Novels and operas should be strictly forbidden. They should be taught history and medical science, and they should be made to work in hospitals, in order to overcome that unnatural disgust for mere physical life, which is one of their chief characteristics. They should be trained to observe their surroundings, even to express in writing their impressions of people with whom they come in contact, and to make logical deductions on the subject of the probable futures of these people. In a word, to attach these sick creatures to earth, one must convince them that there exists nothing so interesting as humanity. Only when observation and interest in their fellow-creatures becomes a habit, will they understand the object of life. Instead of contempt, their hearts will be filled with profound pity. It is themselves, indeed, that one cannot at present regard without pity, these hapless sufferers from a deep-seated moral disease. Rancour, greed, envy, voluptuousness, cruelty, these are all spiritual ailments, needing special doctors and special medicines.” “But—” stammered Irene, “these are sins, and not diseases. You are preaching some entirely new theory.” “No; it only seems new to you, but it is actually as old as the hills. Shakespeare already described, in Othello, the symptoms of the disease of jealousy, and in Hamlet, again, he showed us a soul paralyzed by excessive self-analysis. Read the monologue of Pouschkin’s ‘Avaricious Knight,’ and you will agree that this is the monologue of a madman. Compare him with Molière’s ‘Miser,’ and you will notice that both the writers have emphasized the characteristic feature of all misers: hatred of their children. Ask any doctor, and he will tell you that mental patients, in almost every case, lose the capacity to love or take an interest in their relations and friends, sometimes, indeed, manifesting a violent animosity towards them.