—and people may be aroused to appreciate this.

Fear of Early Death.—Many fear that if they have shown symptoms of delicacy of constitution at some time in life or suffered severely from some serious disease, that they are not likely to live long and, above all, that they are almost sure not to be able to accomplish anything worth while in life. The old proverb is "a healthy mind in a healthy body." This is, however, the ideal. There are very few ideals realized in life. Just because a man has a weak body is no argument at all that his mind may be weak and some of the world's finest work has been accomplished by men whose bodies were always delicate. Metchnikoff is the apostle of old age to our generation, but it is he, also, who has pointed out that many distinguished workers in science, in poetry, in art, men who have left a precious heritage in succeeding generations, were delicate all their lives. He cites such typical examples as Fresnel, the great French physicist; Giacomo Leopardi, the distinguished Italian poet; Weber and Schumann, the great German musicians, and Chopin, the Polish composer and pianist, all of whom did work that the world would not willingly miss, in spite of delicacy of health and weakness of body which shortened their lives. Intellectual power is not dependent on bodily energy and accomplishment is not a question of years of work, but intensity of work.

It would not be difficult to add many other names to those mentioned by Metchnikoff. Naturally his thoughts recurred to men of distinction on [{623}] the Continent, but in English-speaking countries we have a number of typical examples of strong minds doing fine work in weak bodies. Robert Louis Stevenson is the best remembered by our generation. Elizabeth Barrett Browning, delicate all of her life, a neurasthenic during the precious adolescent years that are supposed to mean so much for future accomplishment, always an invalid to some degree at least, did some of the best work that was given to any woman to do during the nineteenth century. J. Addington Symonds, the historian of the Renaissance and of Italian literature, is another striking example of a man who had to do his work under great physical difficulties, yet who left a long bookshelf of large volumes after him as the product of the hours that he could cheat from caring for his health. Henry Harland, whose recent death all too young was a blow to the English-speaking world, is another striking example. The names of such men and women and their stories must be made familiar to people who are themselves delicate in health and who fear for their future and, above all, are despondent about the possibility of ever doing anything worth while.

Dread of Insanity.—People who have relatives who are already sufferers from such severe forms of insanity as require asylum treatment are often likely to be much disturbed over the possibility that they themselves should become insane. Of course, there is no doubt but that these people are much more liable to suffer from insanity than others, but their worrying over the matter is sure to do them harm rather than good. There are quite enough sources of worry in life without the additional one of dread of a future event that may not occur, and this must be made as clear to them as possible. The people who have no obligations on them, who have nothing to do that they feel they have to do, are especially likely to suffer from such obsessions. The best possible relief for them is afforded, not by the effort not to worry about their dread, which usually has exactly the opposite effect and emphasizes their fear by the constant effort which they make to put it aside, but by getting something else to interest them. This must not be merely a passing interest, if possible, but a serious attraction of some kind that fully occupies the mind. A hobby is an excellent thing for this, but alas! a hobby must be cultivated for many years, as a rule, to become powerful enough to bring relief in such serious matters.

Occasionally the thought of the insane asylum or the sight of an institution of this kind passed even at a distance in the train is enough to give some people a fit of depression that may last for some time. The thought of going to visit their ailing relatives is enough to make them even more depressed. I have sometimes found that in chosen cases, especially among women and those of sympathetic disposition, the apparently heroic remedy of making them visit their relatives in the asylum was excellent for them. It is the usual rule for people who are themselves sane to consider that it is the greatest hardship of asylum confinement for the patients to be associated with those whom they recognize to be insane. Exactly the opposite effect is the usual result. To be among people, many of whom are more irrational than themselves and some of whom are quite beside themselves, proves a stimulus and an encouragement. Contentment has been defined by a cynic as the feeling that things might be worse.

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DREADS OF MEN OF GENIUS

The insane are particularly prone to suffer from dreads, so that some people argue from their dreads to the thought of insanity. It is quite a mistake, however, to think of dreads as necessarily connected with insanity in any way. They are irrational though they will commonly be found to be dependent on some special physical condition. This is usually some exaggeration of attention to a sensation natural enough in itself but disturbing when dwelt on to such a degree that it produces a much greater reaction in these individuals than in other people. These dreads have existed in all sorts of people. It is said that they are more frequent in the highly intellectual, especially in the class known as geniuses, and they are often said to represent the definite evidence of a relationship between genius and insanity. I have always felt, however, that they are quite as common among ordinary people who have no genius and no signs of it as among the so-called geniuses. They are not so much spoken of by ordinary people, however, because they are rather ashamed of them. Genius, on the contrary, is quite willing, as a rule, to exploit its peculiarities for the benefit of the public, or what is even more true, its peculiarities are remembered and commented on as details of history.

With this in mind the following paragraph from Dr. Dorland's book on "The Ages of Mental Virility" [Footnote 50] deserves to be recalled. He has gathered a number of examples that are very interesting:

[Footnote 50: The Century Co., New York, 1908]