CHAPTER XCVII

DISEASES OF LICENTIOUSNESS.

Not far from the end of July, 1857, I received the following, in a letter through the post office, as usual, and dated at Boston, but signed by a name probably fictitious.

"It was with no small degree of interest that I noticed, in a book written by yourself,--I cannot recollect its name,--some remarks upon certain diseases which you called nameless; yet, through a dread to introduce so delicate a subject, I have neglected so to do, till it has become an imperative task. And now, laying aside all feelings of modesty, allow me to be familiar with you, as with a father, and to lay my case before you, assuring you that, however unfortunate I have been, it is not my fault, but has come upon me while living with my husband, having never betrayed _his_ confidence."

She then proceeded at once to describe her disease and sufferings, which were terrible. It appeared that she had not been of the number of those who, in circumstances akin to hers, so often fall into shark's mouths. She had taken but little medicine of any kind, except balsam copaiba. After the details of her symptoms and sufferings were finished, she added:

"Now, if you are able to understand me, I wish to ask you whether, from the description I have given, you cannot prescribe something that will relieve me. If so, you can be assured that you will put your humble correspondent and her erring but repentant companion under great obligation to yourself, and that you will be rewarded for all your trouble and advice."

As the result of this request, a correspondence followed, which continued several months. At first, the patient clung to the idea that she could not possibly be restored without minerals, or at least without active medicine of some sort or other, she scarcely knew what. But she at length understood me, and followed, quite implicitly, my directions. There was indeed a little shrinking, at first, from the rigidity, or, as she would call it, the nakedness, of a diet which it was indispensable to use in order to purify her blood effectually; but she finally came bravely up to the mark, and probably reaped her reward in it.

It is true, I did not hear from her till she came to the end of a very long road; but up to the last of our correspondence, she was slowly improving. My belief is that, before this time, she has fairly recovered, and with far less injury to the vital powers than if mercurial or other strong medicines had been used.

And herein we are reminded of a crime that not only has no name, but deserves none. I allude to the act of communicating a disease so distressing to an innocent and unoffending female. We had an instance of this same crime in Chapter LXXIV. If there be such a thing as punishing too severely, I am sure it is not in cases like these. The individual in human shape, who, with eyes open, will run the risk of injuring those whom he professes to love better, if possible, than himself, deserves a punishment more condign and terrible than he to whom is so often awarded a halter or a guillotine.