A typical example of how much a strong man whose diplomatic ability had stamped him as one of the large men of his generation may yet be afflicted beyond measure by a loss of this kind is to be found in the life of the second Lord Lytton. I have told it somewhat in detail in the chapter on Periodic Depression. After the death of his boy Lord Lytton, who for more than a week of anguish had watched unceasingly at the death-bed of his dying son, came to the conclusion that God was not in His world or, at least, that the arm of Providence was shortened if such (as it seemed to him) needless suffering was permitted. The boy had probably suffered much less than the bystanders thought and much less than he seemed to, for in these cases nearly always there is a merciful deadening of the senses that to a great extent eliminates suffering, but Lord Lytton could not understand and refused ever to look at life from the same standpoint afterwards. This is, of course, only what happens in many cases, but it represents an exaggeration of grief since death and suffering have always been in the world and sometimes they will come to those near and dear to us, much as we may resent it.

Neither profound intelligence nor the sympathetic genius of the poet or artist is sufficient to safeguard men against the severer forms of griefs for loss. Louis, the distinguished French physician (to whom we in America are indebted so much as the Master of the Boston and Philadelphia schools of diagnosis, and, above all, for his teaching of the differentiation between typhoid and typhus fever), suffered so much from the loss of his son that he could scarcely be consoled. Dante Gabriel Rossetti was so much affected by the death of his wife that he put into her coffin the only manuscript copy of his poems that he possessed. It is interesting to learn that some years later he had the coffin exhumed and took out his manuscript at the urging of friends, and published the poems. Many other examples of this kind might be given, for exaggeration of grief affects all classes and conditions in life. They are practically always pathological, usually on a basis of somewhat disturbed mentality, though often the real underlying and predisposing condition is the physical exhaustion that has preceded the loss and which makes patients unable to bear the strain of it after weeks of care, solicitude, anxiety and neglect of eating and sleep.

CHAPTER V
DOUBTING

In recent years the attention of physicians has been called to the fact that many people are made profoundly miserable by an unconquerable tendency to doubt about nearly everything that has happened to them, or is happening, or is about to happen. This is not a new phenomenon, but introspection has emphasized it, leisure gives more opportunity for it, and so physicians hear more of it now than they did in the past. This doubting tendency sometimes makes serious inroads on the peace of mind of sufferers from it because they cannot make up their minds to do things, even to take exercise, to eat as [{733}] they should in quantity or quality, and to share the ordinary life around them sufficiently to get such diversion of mind as will keep their physical functions normal. The state used to be described as a neurasthenia (nervous weakness), but in recent years has come better to be designated as in the class of psychasthenias (lack of mental energy). It is always a mental trouble in the sense that it is difficult for these patients to make up their minds about things, yet it is not a mental disease in the ordinary sense of the term, and these people are often eminently sane and thoroughly intellectual when their attention has been once profoundly attracted. They may even, under favorable circumstances, be active and useful helpers in great causes, yet there is always to be observed in them a certain noteworthy difference in mentality from the normal. The physician can do more for an affection of this kind than is usually thought, and he is probably the only one who can thoroughly appreciate and sympathize and, therefore, be helpful in the condition.

Sufferers are often laughed at by their friends and relatives and are likely to be the subjects of at least a little ridicule if they take their troubles to their physician. As a matter of fact, however, doubting is a typical case for psychotherapeutics and not only can much be done for its relief, but it can be kept from disturbing the general health, which it is prone to do if neglected, and by mental discipline and acquired habits of self-control, the doubting habit may be almost completely eradicated.

Exaggeration of Ordinary State of Mind.—The first thing absolutely necessary to impress upon the minds of these victims of their own doubts is that their condition is by no means unique, it is not even very singular, but is only an exaggeration of that hesitancy and tendency to put off making decisions that practically every person finds in a lifelong experience. This frame of mind is rather cultivated by education and by a large accumulation of knowledge. The less one knows the easier it is to come to decisions about difficult problems and to form conclusions without hesitancy. The young man will decide anything under the sun, and a few other things besides, almost without a moment's hesitation, and after but slight consideration. Twenty years later he looks back and wonders how he did it, and having done it, how he succeeded in turning the practical conclusions to which he came to advantage. The scholar is eminently a doubter and a hesitater, and we recognize that he loses certain of the qualities that would make him a practical man of affairs, though he gains so much more that broadens and deepens life's significance that there can be no doubt about the value of his liberal education.

"Hamlet" is just the story of one of these doubters and hesitaters. He saw his duty clearly and that duty was imperative. In spite of cumulative evidence, however, he refused to go on to the performance of that duty, urging to himself now one and now another reason of delay, until finally he wonders whether it would not be worth the while to take his own life, rather than try any longer to solve the problems that lie around him demanding solution. When he finally does something, his hand is forced and circumstances have so arranged themselves that instead of one clean-cut punishment for a great crime, there is the tragedy that involves six lives, including his own. The play seems to involve such exceptional characters and to be written around such an unusual set of circumstances that it might be thought [{734}] that it would prove uninteresting for men and women generally. As a matter of fact, however, "Hamlet" is the most popular of Shakespeare's plays and probably the most popular play, both for readers and auditors, that was ever written. There are commentaries by the hundred on it in nearly every modern language. Men have been more interested in this figment of Shakespeare's imagination than in any man that ever lived. Caesar and Napoleon have not attracted so much attention. Only Homer and Dante have been perhaps more written about than Hamlet.

Shakespeare has emphasized the condition of Hamlet by showing us an eminently well educated man. His deep interest in literature, and especially in dramatic literature and all that relates to the stage, can be appreciated very readily from his speech to the players. No one but a man of profound critical ability and deep intellectual interests could have so summed up the actors' relation to the drama. Of course, this is Shakespeare himself talking and unthinking people have said that this was a purple patch fastened on the play because it gave the author an opportunity to express his views with regard to actors and their ways. Instead of that, it is of the very essence of the development of Hamlet's character and shows us the scholarly amateur who knows so much about many things that he has become quite unable to make up his mind about the practical problems that lie before him. James Russell Lowell says that Shakespeare sent Hamlet to Wittenberg, though Wittenberg was not founded until centuries after Hamlet existed—and Shakespeare probably knew that very well—because Wittenberg in Shakespeare's time, on account of its connection with Luther and the religious revolt in Germany, had the widespread repute of occupying men's minds with doubts about many of the things that had been deemed perfectly settled before, and its popular reputation serves to give an added hint as to the character of Hamlet as the dramatist saw it.

Once those who are perturbed by doubts learn that the reason for the universal human interest in Hamlet is that there is a large capacity for doubt of self in every man and woman, that we all put off making decisions whenever possible, sometimes refuse to open letters when they come if we fear that they will contain some disturbing news, put off writing letters because we have to state ideas definitely, apparently hope that the day and the night will bring us counsel and that somehow the decision will be made for us without the trouble of making up our minds, then they lose their sense of discouragement over their condition and appreciate that they are suffering only from an exaggeration, probably temporary and quite eradicable, of a state of mind that comes to practically every human being.

This is the important thing, because on it can be founded the only really hopeful therapy of the condition. Doubting is a habit that may be increased by yielding to it, but that can be diminished to a very great extent by constant discipline, which refuses to permit doubts and hesitancy and bravely makes decisions, even though there may be the feeling that they may prove to be wrong.