Yea, but you infer again, facile consilium damus aliis, we can easily give counsel to others; every man, as the saying is, can tame a shrew but he that hath her; si hic esses, aliter sentires; if you were in our misery, you would find it otherwise, 'tis not so easily performed. We know this to be true; we should moderate ourselves, but we are furiously carried, we cannot make use of such precepts, we are overcome, sick, male sani, distempered and habituated to these courses, we can make no resistance; you may as well bid him that is diseased not to feel pain, as a melancholy man not to fear, not to be sad: 'tis within his blood, his brains, his whole temperature, it cannot be removed. But he may choose whether he will give way too far unto it, he may in some sort correct himself. A philosopher was bitten with a mad dog, and as the nature of that disease is to abhor all waters, and liquid things, and to think still they see the picture of a dog before them: he went for all this, reluctante se, to the bath, and seeing there (as he thought) in the water the picture of a dog, with reason overcame this conceit, quid cani cum balneo? what should a dog do in a bath? a mere conceit. Thou thinkest thou hearest and seest devils, black men, &c., 'tis not so, 'tis thy corrupt fantasy; settle thine imagination, thou art well. Thou thinkest thou hast a great nose, thou art sick, every man observes thee, laughs thee to scorn; persuade thyself 'tis no such matter: this is fear only, and vain suspicion. Thou art discontent, thou art sad and heavy; but why? upon what ground? consider of it: thou art jealous, timorous, suspicious; for what cause? examine it thoroughly, thou shalt find none at all, or such as is to be contemned; such as thou wilt surely deride, and contemn in thyself, when it is past. Rule thyself then with reason, satisfy thyself, accustom thyself, wean thyself from such fond conceits, vain fears, strong imaginations, restless thoughts. Thou mayst do it; Est in nobis assuescere (as Plutarch saith), we may frame ourselves as we will. As he that useth an upright shoe, may correct the obliquity, or crookedness, by wearing it on the other side; we may overcome passions if we will. Quicquid sibi imperavit animus obtinuit (as [3414]Seneca saith) nulli tam feri affectus, ut non disciplina perdomentur, whatsoever the will desires, she may command: no such cruel affections, but by discipline they may be tamed; voluntarily thou wilt not do this or that, which thou oughtest to do, or refrain, &c., but when thou art lashed like a dull jade, thou wilt reform it: fear of a whip will make thee do, or not do. Do that voluntarily then which thou canst do, and must do by compulsion; thou mayst refrain if thou wilt, and master thine affections. [3415]“As in a city” (saith Melancthon) “they do by stubborn rebellious rogues, that will not submit themselves to political judgment, compel them by force; so must we do by our affections. If the heart will not lay aside those vicious motions, and the fantasy those fond imaginations, we have another form of government to enforce and refrain our outward members, that they be not led by our passions.” If appetite will not obey, let the moving faculty overrule her, let her resist and compel her to do otherwise. In an ague the appetite would drink; sore eyes that itch would be rubbed; but reason saith no, and therefore the moving faculty will not do it. Our fantasy would intrude a thousand fears, suspicions, chimeras upon us, but we have reason to resist, yet we let it be overborne by our appetite; [3416]“imagination enforceth spirits, which, by an admirable league of nature, compel the nerves to obey, and they our several limbs:” we give too much way to our passions. And as to him that is sick of an ague, all things are distasteful and unpleasant, non ex cibi vitio saith Plutarch, not in the meat, but in our taste: so many things are offensive to us, not of themselves, but out of our corrupt judgment, jealousy, suspicion, and the like: we pull these mischiefs upon our own heads.
If then our judgment be so depraved, our reason overruled, will precipitated, that we cannot seek our own good, or moderate ourselves, as in this disease commonly it is, the best way for ease is to impart our misery to some friend, not to smother it up in our own breast: aliter vitium crescitque tegendo, &c., and that which was most offensive to us, a cause of fear and grief, quod nunc te coquit, another hell; for [3417] strangulat inclusus dolor atque exaestuat intus, grief concealed strangles the soul; but when as we shall but impart it to some discreet, trusty, loving friend, it is [3418]instantly removed, by his counsel happily, wisdom, persuasion, advice, his good means, which we could not otherwise apply unto ourselves. A friend's counsel is a charm, like mandrake wine, curas sopit; and as a [3419]bull that is tied to a fig-tree becomes gentle on a sudden (which some, saith [3420]Plutarch, interpret of good words), so is a savage, obdurate heart mollified by fair speeches. “All adversity finds ease in complaining” (as [3421]Isidore holds), “and 'tis a solace to relate it,” [3422]Ἀγαθὴ δε παραίφασις ἐστὶν ἐταίρου. Friends' confabulations are comfortable at all times, as fire in winter, shade in summer, quale sopor fessis in gramine, meat and drink to him that is hungry or athirst; Democritus's collyrium is not so sovereign to the eyes as this is to the heart; good words are cheerful and powerful of themselves, but much more from friends, as so many props, mutually sustaining each other like ivy and a wall, which Camerarius hath well illustrated in an emblem. Lenit animum simplex vel saepe narratio, the simple narration many times easeth our distressed mind, and in the midst of greatest extremities; so diverse have been relieved, by [3423]exonerating themselves to a faithful friend: he sees that which we cannot see for passion and discontent, he pacifies our minds, he will ease our pain, assuage our anger; quanta inde voluptas, quanta securitas, Chrysostom adds, what pleasure, what security by that means! [3424]“Nothing so available, or that so much refresheth the soul of man.” Tully, as I remember, in an epistle to his dear friend Atticus, much condoles the defect of such a friend. [3425]“I live here” (saith he) “in a great city, where I have a multitude of acquaintance, but not a man of all that company with whom I dare familiarly breathe, or freely jest. Wherefore I expect thee, I desire thee, I send for thee; for there be many things which trouble and molest me, which had I but thee in presence, I could quickly disburden myself of in a walking discourse.” The like, peradventure, may he and he say with that old man in the comedy,
[3426]Nemo est meorum amicorum hodie,
Apud quem expromere occulta mea audeam.
SUBSECT. II.—Help from friends by counsel, comfort, fair and foul means, witty devices, satisfaction, alteration of his course of life, removing objects, &c.
When the patient of himself is not able to resist, or overcome these heart-eating passions, his friends or physician must be ready to supply that which is wanting. Suae erit humanitatis et sapientiae (which [3431] Tully enjoineth in like case) siquid erratum, curare, aut improvisum, sua diligentia corrigere. They must all join; nec satis medico, saith [3432] Hippocrates, suum fecisse officium, nisi suum quoque aegrotus, suum astantes, &c. First, they must especially beware, a melancholy discontented person (be it in what kind of melancholy soever) never be left alone or idle: but as physicians prescribe physic, cum custodia, let them not be left unto themselves, but with some company or other, lest by that means they aggravate and increase their disease; non oportet aegros humjusmodi esse solos vel inter ignotos, vel inter eos quos non amant aut negligunt, as Rod. a Fonseca, tom. 1. consul. 35. prescribes. Lugentes custodire solemus (saith [3433]Seneca) ne solitudine male utantur; we watch a sorrowful person, lest he abuse his solitariness, and so should we do a melancholy man; set him about some business, exercise or recreation, which may divert his thoughts, and still keep him otherwise intent; for his fantasy is so restless, operative and quick, that if it be not in perpetual action, ever employed, it will work upon itself, melancholise, and be carried away instantly, with some fear, jealousy, discontent, suspicion, some vain conceit or other. If his weakness be such that he cannot discern what is amiss, correct, or satisfy, it behoves them by counsel, comfort, or persuasion, by fair or foul means, to alienate his mind, by some artificial invention, or some contrary persuasion, to remove all objects, causes, companies, occasions, as may any ways molest him, to humour him, please him, divert him, and if it be possible, by altering his course of life, to give him security and satisfaction. If he conceal his grievances, and will not be known of them, [3434]“they must observe by his looks, gestures, motions, fantasy, what it is that offends,” and then to apply remedies unto him: many are instantly cured, when their minds are satisfied. [3435]Alexander makes mention of a woman, “that by reason of her husband's long absence in travel, was exceeding peevish and melancholy, but when she heard her husband was returned, beyond all expectation, at the first sight of him, she was freed from all fear, without help of any other physic restored to her former health.” Trincavellius, consil. 12. lib. 1. hath such a story of a Venetian, that being much troubled with melancholy, [3436]“and ready to die for grief, when he heard his wife was brought to bed of a son, instantly recovered.” As Alexander concludes, [3437]“If our imaginations be not inveterate, by this art they may be cured, especially if they proceed from such a cause.” No better way to satisfy, than to remove the object, cause, occasion, if by any art or means possible we may find it out. If he grieve, stand in fear, be in suspicion, suspense, or any way molested, secure him, Solvitur malum, give him satisfaction, the cure is ended; alter his course of life, there needs no other physic. If the party be sad, or otherwise affected, “consider” (saith [3438]Trallianus) “the manner of it, all circumstances, and forthwith make a sudden alteration,” by removing the occasions, avoid all terrible objects, heard or seen, [3439]“monstrous and prodigious aspects,” tales of devils, spirits, ghosts, tragical stories; to such as are in fear they strike a great impression, renewed many times, and recall such chimeras and terrible fictions into their minds. [3440]“Make not so much as mention of them in private talk, or a dumb show tending to that purpose: such things” (saith Galateus) “are offensive to their imaginations.” And to those that are now in sorrow, [3441]Seneca “forbids all sad companions, and such as lament; a groaning companion is an enemy to quietness.” [3442]“Or if there be any such party, at whose presence the patient is not well pleased, he must be removed: gentle speeches, and fair means, must first be tried; no harsh language used, or uncomfortable words; and not expel, as some do, one madness with another; he that so doth, is madder than the patient himself:” all things must be quietly composed; eversa non evertenda, sed erigenda, things down must not be dejected, but reared, as Crato counselleth; [3443] “he must be quietly and gently used,” and we should not do anything against his mind, but by little and little effect it. As a horse that starts at a drum or trumpet, and will not endure the shooting of a piece, may be so manned by art, and animated, that he cannot only endure, but is much more generous at the hearing of such things, much more courageous than before, and much delighteth in it: they must not be reformed ex abrupto, but by all art and insinuation, made to such companies, aspects, objects they could not formerly away with. Many at first cannot endure the sight of a green wound, a sick man, which afterward become good chirurgeons, bold empirics: a horse starts at a rotten post afar off, which coming near he quietly passeth. 'Tis much in the manner of making such kind of persons, be they never so averse from company, bashful, solitary, timorous, they may be made at last with those Roman matrons, to desire nothing more than in a public show, to see a full company of gladiators breathe out their last.
If they may not otherwise be accustomed to brook such distasteful and displeasing objects, the best way then is generally to avoid them. Montanus, consil. 229. to the Earl of Montfort, a courtier, and his melancholy patient, adviseth him to leave the court, by reason of those continual discontents, crosses, abuses, [3444]“cares, suspicions, emulations, ambition, anger, jealousy, which that place afforded, and which surely caused him to be so melancholy at the first:” Maxima quaeque domus servis est plena superbis; a company of scoffers and proud jacks are commonly conversant and attend in such places, and able to make any man that is of a soft, quiet disposition (as many times they do) ex stulto insanum, if once they humour him, a very idiot, or stark mad. A thing too much practised in all common societies, and they have no better sport than to make themselves merry by abusing some silly fellow, or to take advantage of another man's weakness. In such cases as in a plague, the best remedy is cito longe tarde: (for to such a party, especially if he be apprehensive, there can be no greater misery) to get him quickly gone far enough off, and not to be overhasty in his return. If he be so stupid that he do not apprehend it, his friends should take some order, and by their discretion supply that which is wanting in him, as in all other cases they ought to do. If they see a man melancholy given, solitary, averse from company, please himself with such private and vain meditations, though he delight in it, they ought by all means seek to divert him, to dehort him, to tell him of the event and danger that may come of it. If they see a man idle, that by reason of his means otherwise will betake himself to no course of life, they ought seriously to admonish him, he makes a noose to entangle himself, his want of employment will be his undoing. If he have sustained any great loss, suffered a repulse, disgrace, &c., if it be possible, relieve him. If he desire aught, let him be satisfied; if in suspense, fear, suspicion, let him be secured: and if it may conveniently be, give him his heart's content; for the body cannot be cured till the mind be satisfied. [3445] Socrates, in Plato, would prescribe no physic for Charmides' headache, “till first he had eased his troubled mind; body and soul must be cured together, as head and eyes.”
[3446]Oculum non curabis sine toto capite,
Nec caput sine toto corpora,
Nec totum corpus sine anima.