That many suicides result from an indulgence in long-continued and corroding grief must be apparent to all who have given this subject any consideration. The medical man will find it difficult to manage such patients. Everything should be done to rouse the person from his state of mental abstraction. The immortal poet had a just conception of the baneful influence of silent grief on the mind and body; he makes Malcolm say, imploringly, to Macbeth,
“Give sorrow words; the grief that does not speak
Whispers the o’er-wrought heart, and bids it break.”
An eminent London physician communicated to me the particulars of the following case:—A young lady, connected with a family of rank, and possessing great accomplishments, had formed, unknown to her parents, a secret attachment to a gentleman who often visited the house. When it was discovered, he was requested to abandon all notions of the lady, as it was the determination of her relations to refuse their consent to an alliance with him. Both parties took it much to heart. The lady suffered from a severe attack of nervous disorder, which terminated in suicidal mania. She endeavoured several times to jump out of the window, and would have done so had she not been most carefully watched. Her symptoms were most distressing. The mind appeared to be weighed down to the earth by an accumulation of misery and wretchedness, which she was unable to shake off. “Oh! could I but be happy!” she would exclaim. “Will no one come to my relief? What can I do?” She would walk about the room, occasionally giving utterance to expressions similar to those just quoted. More than once she observed, that, could she cry, she felt assured her mind would be relieved; but not a tear could she shed. After a fearful struggle for some time, one evening, as she was retiring to rest, she burst into a flood of tears. The effect was most beneficial; from that moment she began to recover. The copious lachrymal secretion had the effect of relieving the cerebral congestion, and in this way the brain was restored to the performance of its healthy functions.
It is difficult to lay down any particular instructions for the treatment of ennui. How is it possible to restore enjoyment to a man who has quite exhausted it? In such cases the advice which Fénélon gives to Dionysius the tyrant, by the mouth of Diogenes, will naturally apply,—“To restore his appetite, he must be made to feel hunger; and to make his splendid palace tolerable to him, he must be put into my tub, which is at present empty.”
A lady became insane in consequence of a sudden and unexpected acquisition of wealth. In a few months she was reduced, by the failure of the house in which all her property was embarked, to complete indigence. Being compelled to work for her daily bread, her reason was soon restored. The great preservative from tedium vitæ is, in keeping the mind and body in a state of healthy activity. How true it is—
“That many ills o’er which man grieves,
And still more woman, spring from not employing
Some hours to make the remnant worth enjoying.”
Byron.