II

On the thirtieth day of June, 1897, I graduated at Yale.  Had I then realized that I was a sick man, I could and would have taken a rest.  But, in a way, I had become accustomed to the ups and downs of a nervous existence, and, as I could not really afford a rest, six days after my graduation I entered upon the duties of a clerk in the office of the Collector of Taxes in the city of New Haven.  I was fortunate in securing such a position at that time, for the hours were comparatively short and the work as congenial as any could have been under the circumstances.  I entered the Tax Office with the intention of staying only until such time as I might secure a position in New York.  About a year later I secured the desired position.  After remaining in it for eight months I left it, in order to take a position which seemed to offer a field of endeavor more to my taste.  From May, 1899, till the middle of June, 1900, I was a clerk in one of the smaller life-insurance companies, whose home office was within a stone’s throw of what some men consider the center of the universe.  To be in the very heart of the financial district of New York appealed strongly to my imagination.  As a result of the contagious ideals of Wall Street, the making of money was then a passion with me.  I wished to taste the bitter-sweet of power based on wealth.

For the first eighteen months of my life in New York my health seemed no worse than it had been during the preceding three years.  But the old dread still possessed me.  I continued to have my more and less nervous days, weeks, and months.  In March, 1900, however, there came a change for the worse.  At that time I had a severe attack of grippe which incapacitated me for two weeks.  As was to be expected in my case, this illness seriously depleted my vitality, and left me in a frightfully depressed condition—­a depression which continued to grow upon me until the final crash came, on June 23rd, 1900.  The events of that day, seemingly disastrous as then viewed, but evidently all for the best as the issue proved, forced me along paths traveled by thousands, but comprehended by few.

I had continued to perform my clerical duties until June 15th.  On that day I was compelled to stop, and that at once.  I had reached a point where my will had to capitulate to Unreason—­that unscrupulous usurper.  My previous five years as a neurasthenic had led me to believe that I had experienced all the disagreeable sensations an overworked and unstrung nervous system could suffer.  But on this day several new and terrifying sensations seized me and rendered me all but helpless.  My condition, however, was not apparent even to those who worked with me at the same desk.  I remember trying to speak and at times finding myself unable to give utterance to my thoughts.  Though I was able to answer questions, that fact hardly diminished my feeling of apprehension, for a single failure in an attempt to speak will stagger any man, no matter what his state of health.  I tried to copy certain records in the day’s work, but my hand was too unsteady, and I found it difficult to read the words and figures presented to my tired vision in blurred confusion.