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COMMON  MIND-TROUBLES,
AND
The Secret of a Clear  Head.
—BY—
J. MQRTIMER-QRANVILLE, M. D„ H. R. C. S., etc.
\
Edited, with Additions, by an American Physician.
1880. 
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  Entered according to act of Congress, in the year 1880,
                 By D. G. BBINTON,
In the office of the  Librarian of Congress, at Washington.

                          4 
EDITOR'S PREFACE.
  The author of this  little work, Dr.  Joseph Morti-
mer-Gran ville, has not  hitherto been  introduced to the
American public.  In London he has a favorable repu-
tation as  a student of diseases of the mind.  During
the years 1875-6-7 he was  selected by the proprietors
of the Lancet to make a series of investigations on the
management and organization of the English Lunatic
Asylums.  His reports were published in that journal,
and  subsequently he worked up  the materials he  had
collected into a book,  in  two volumes, entitled "The
Care and Cure of the Insane," which added consider-
ably to his reputation.
  He has devoted  more attention than most physicians
engaged  in the specialty of treating  deranged intellect
to the earliest and faintest  symptoms of that terrible
malady.   The second edition  of Dr. Wynter's "Bor-
derlands of Insanity " was brought out under his super-
vision, and it was  as an outcome of such observations
that  the present work appeared.
                         5 
6
Editor's Preface.
   It is addressed to the general reading public, as a
manual of  instruction  in the  hygiene of  the  mind.
Those  common  mental failings  and troubles  are  dis-
cussed  which  few temperaments wholly  escape,  which
are always  annoying as impairing  intellectual power,
and  which, in  certain temperaments,  become,  unless
promptly counteracted, the forerunners  of alienation of
mind.
   Dr. Granville is a firm believer in the power of the
Will to overcome most  of  these troubles, if it  is prop-
erly directed in  their very beginning.  In  these days,
when   men  are  so often regarded as  physiological
machines,  when  mind is spoken of as a  mere brain
function, and when so much mental trouble is laid at
the door of physical ill-feeling, it is refreshing to find
a competent observer of large  experience vindicate the
power  of mind  over itself,  and speak of  self-control
and self-government as real and necessary parts of the
prevention and cure of mental disease.
   His writings, especially the two reprinted  in  this vol-
ume, have  met with prompt  and wide  popularity, and
undoubtedly they have  done  great good.   He  states
that these two—" Common Mind-Troubles " and " The
Secret of a  Clear Head "—are properly two sections of
the same treatise, and for that reason they are here pre- 
                  Editor's  Preface.                 7

sented together.  Their object  is to show the proper
care and training of the Mind amid the ordinary wear
and tear of life, the  means of preventing, avoiding  or
relieving its  most common disturbances, and of retain-
ing its  best faculties in their most vigorous strength.
When, as now, it is currently believed  that mental dis-
ease is increasing in our land, such  instruction, from so
able a hand, should be welcomed and widely read.
  The American editor has made but  few and  unim-
portant alterations in  the  original text; but  he  has
thought it well to  add a  few chapters on  phases  of
mental  trouble, by no means  unfrequent, and  which
were  not  discussed by  Dr.  Granville.  These  are
marked with an asterisk in the table of contents.   The
editor believes they make the work more complete and
add to its value. 
 
AUTHOR'S  PREFACE.
  I am encouraged by the reception which has been
accorded to my previous papers on the subject of mind-
troubles, by the press, the public, and the profession, to
adventure a further selection.   I would  only  ask  the
scientific  reader, if any such should  honor  this little
volume by his notice, to  remember that  these essays,
like those which have preceded them, were not written
for persons who  have  professionally investigated  the
phenomena of which they treat.  The sole purpose  has
been  to seize on  a few salient  difficulties and grapple
with  them, in the interests of self-help.   The key-note
of the theme is the presumption  that there is often—if
not generally—a stage of conscious embarrassment pre-
ceding  mental derangement or mind  weakness,  and
while this condition exists  there is hope in the power of
repair and self-recovery which  exists in  the mind  not
less than in the body.  To this belief I must adhere.
                       J. Morttmer-Granville.
   London, Oct., 1878.
                          9 
 
PREFACE  TO FIFTH  THOUSAND.
  The success which has attended this series of papers
gives me ground to hope they have been  found  useful.
I have therefore determined to issue a new edition,
simultaneously with the appearance of a compLm ntary
series under the title "The Secret of a  Clear HeiJ."
Read together, I trust these little books may be helpful
in mental hygiene.
                                     J.  M.-G.
  London, April, 1879.
                       11 
 
CONTENTS.
The articles marked with an asterisk (*) are by the American editor.


EDITOR'S PREFACE,.......5
AUTHOR'S PREFACE,.......9
PREFACE TO THE FIFTH THOUSAND,         -   11
TABLE OF CONTENTS,......13
                 PART  I.

     COMMON MIND-TROUBLES.

FAILINGS,..........17
DEFECTS OF MEMORY,......27
CONFUSIONS OF THOUGHT, ------   37
SLEEPLESSNESS FROM THOUGHT,    -   -    -    47
HESITATION AND ERRORS IN SPEECH,        -   57
LOW SPIRITS,........67
TEMPERS—GOOD AND BAD,.....75
*MENTAL LANGUOR AND LISTLESSNESS, -    -    86
*MORBID FEAR,........93
"CREATURES OF CIRCUMSTANCE,"   -   -    -    9»
                     13 
14
Contents.
                  PART II.

  THE SECRET OF A CLEAR HEAD.

TEMPERATURE,........109
HABIT,  -.........122
TIME, -----......134
PLEASURE,.........144
SELF-IMPORTANCE,.......154
CONSISTENCY,........163
SIMPLICITY,.........173
THE SECRET OF A CLEAR HEAD, -   -    -   -   182 
PART I.
       COMMON



MIND-TROUBLES.
15 
 
                  FAILINGS.

  We all have our failings, and for the most  part we
regard them tenderly.   They do not count as offences;
scarcely are they held to be faults.  It is always a proba-
ble conjecture that an error of omission  has  been unin-
tentional; not unfrequently it seems possible it  was un-
avoidable.  A sentiment of pity  for,  and even sympathy
with, weakness overpowers  the  sense of grievance; the
voice of the inward monitor is silenced, and the self-
excused  conscience sleeps.   Meanwhile failings are the
worst and most mischievous, the  deadliest and least cura-
ble, of the ills to which the moral nature of man is heir.
They are the sources of evil whence spring the  blackest
vices of human  character, the  false roots that  nourish
and sustain its  parasites, and steal  the  sap of its inner
life.  A failing is  not merely negative;   its  sinister
aspect is one of positive wrong-doing, wherein some be-
hest of the will is disobeyed, a measure of moral power
wasted, a rebel habit formed or fostered. To  compas-
sionate failings  in others is to beg  the question of fact
for the sake of politeness;  to look with  leniency on the
errors which self would  fain palliate, by assuming that
they are unavoidable, is to play the traitor to  Truth, and
let  the enemy into the citadel; whereas conscience is set
to guard the nature of man from treachery not less care-
fully than to protect it against assault.
                          b                     17 
18
Common  Mind-Troubles.
  Failings may be moral, mental, or  physical, as they
show themselves in the character, the intellect, or  the
bodily habit and  powers.  It generally happens  that
what strikes the observer as a failing is compounded of
errors in  feeling,  thought and action combined.  The
practical question is how the overt evil came into exist-
ence ; or, if happily the failing should be detected in an
earlier stage of growth, before it  has betrayed  its pres-
ence by ugly consequences, we may ask: what are  the
mischievous forces, where are they  at work,  how  can
they be counteracted ?   Why has  this  person the " fail-
ing" of a tendency to excessive  indulgence in  drink or
the gratification of some unbridled passion;  and  that
individual  a seeming inability to recognize and  pursue
the right and  honest course of conduct in the presence
of any so-called " temptation " or difficulty ?
  A search for the causes and the conditions which have
determined the development of failings is reasonable, and
it will not  be profitless.  Many of the shortcomings we
deplore as  irremediable  might  be  amended,  perhaps
wholly  eradicated,  if,  with  the   light experience and
science can bring to bear on the subject of human char-
acter, the will  were charged resolutely to look for  the
hidden  sources of weakness,  pliability, subjugation to
passion, moral  obliquity or seeming lack of principle,
together with  those less blamed  but equally disastrous
defects,  indolence, want of perseverance, and  indiffer-
ence to truth, which combine to form, or are themselves,
what the weak-minded  and  the  unwise call " failings," 
Failings.                    19
   Some of the most regrettable and injurious failings
 which disfigure and defame the character, run  through
 families, appearing in successive generations, and seem-
 ing to be inherited.   This theory of their perpetuation
 is well founded; and  it has been adduced as conclusive
 evidence of the truth of the hypothesis that mind, and,
 of .course, character,  is the mere outcome  of  matter.
 The force of the argument obviously rests on  the as-
 sumption that nothing more than, or outside, matter can
 be transmitted from parent to child; that a particular
 constitution of brain  and  nerve centres,  a  special ar-
 rangement or combination  of  the elements which com-
 pose the mind-organ, may be reproduced, and, if it is, a
 similarity of character will  be  entailed; but as for the
 independent existence of mind, or spirit, that is a pure
 figment of the imagination, which science will sooner or
 later drive beyond the pale of credulity, and to which,
 even now, only a few  thinkers, crippled by prejudice*,
 avowedly cling!
   Let  us examine this proposition at close quarters.   It
 may be stated thus :  All we know of mind is  expressed,
 and understood, by physical agencies and in the formula?
 of material force.  Speech  communicates thought, and
 we think in words.   The faculty of forming and em-
 ploying  words is a  brain  function.  If a  particular
 region  of the brain be injured or diseased, the power of
 using language, at least in speech, is generally  lost.  The
 materialist argues from this  and many similar facts that
mind is the product of matter.  He fails to perceive that 
20
Common  Mind-Troubles.
 the only warrantable deduction from his own data is that
 mind or spirit, call it what we will, can only express itself
 through the brain as an instrument.  As well deny the
 skill or independent existence of a musician because he
 cannot play the full score of an opera on a flute, as infer
 the non-existence of a soul from the fact that man can-
 not perform intellectual work  without  the  organ of
 thought—the brain !
   The capacity of the instrument doubtless limits the
 expression, but it  supplies no measure of the power or
 skill of the  performer, except in  so far as the use  he
 makes of  the instrument may be  a bad  one.  This ex-
 ception is  of great significance, and  there will be some-
 thing more to  say about it presently.  Meantime it is
 evident that, while the range of brain-power determines
 the manifestation  of mind,  it  neither  measures,  nor
 affirms, nor  disproves,  the  independent  existence of
 mind.  The anatomist, the physiologist, and the chemist,
 declare their  inability to discover the traces of a soul  in
 the physical  organism.   That no more  proves the non-
 existence of a soul than the failure to recognize  more
 than a  certain  number of planets at any stage in  the
 history  of  astronomy demonstrated  that there  was
 nothing further to find.
   History and experience attest the folly of denying the
existence.of the unknown.  And it is especially unwise,
or unscientific, to assume the non-existence of a psychical
power, working in or through the physical nature of man,
because it  is only upon the hypothesis that such a power 
Failings.                    21
 exists we are able to understand and explain some of the
 commonest and most clearly-defined phenomena of mind
 and character.  For example, two individuals are found
 to have had brains of microscopically similar quality, and
 of equal weight.  They are both highly developed, and
 any differences they present to the critical observer, armed
 with the  most subtle tests which science can devise, are
 of a nature which experience  has shown to be function-
 ally  unimportant.  The two  individuals have,  during
 life, been surrounded by circumstances which throw no
 light on  their idiosyncrasies.   Nevertheless, the moral
 character of the one  has  been wholly bad,  that  of the
 other strikingly exemplary.  How is it possible to account
 for this difference except on the hypothesis of a soul ?
   There is no more wide-spread, but utterly groundless
 fallacy, than that which strives to associate virtue or vice
 with particular forms of development.   It is true  that
 there are grades of animal  excellence, and the lower are
 likely to be the more brutal;  but the  higher and most
 perfect growth  is not  only compatible, but frequently
 found in  association, with  an  excess of evil  attributes.
 In short, the most delicate and efficient  instrument may
 be put to the worst  purposes.   What determines  the
 event?   What made this person with the highest intel-
 lectual organism an unscrupulous wrong-doer, the enemy
 of his species, and a discredit to human nature, while that
 individual with a  physical  organism so nearly identical
 that science can detect no difference was distinguished by
characteristics entirely opposite ?  The superficial answer 
22
Common  Mind-Troubles.
 to this crucial interrogatory is: circumstances, education,
 the  influence of example, opposition, health—these, in
 short, the  environments, made the difference.  The re-
 joinder will not stand  the test of experience.  Let any
 one turn over in his memory the histories of lives he has
 observed.   The most tenderly nurtured go astray, while,
 on the other hand, the neglected  and, as it would seem,
 demoralized by  " circumstances," rise above the accident
 of associated evil influences, to attain the highest moral
 growth.
  The appeal against materialism lies to the instinct of
 common sense.  If mind were the mere outcome of mat-
 ter, science would long since have discovered some toler-
 ably constant  relation between peculiarities of physical
 development and manifestations  of character; whereas
 every step  onward in the progress of  research tends to
 disprove the existence of any certain dependency or con-
 nection  between morals and matter.  Even  such  links
 as compose the stock-in-trade of the physiognomist and
 phrenologist are shown to be illusory, except in so far as
 they may be the effects, rather than the causes, of char-
 acter, and are produced by culture—witness the effects
 of education on facial expression in the case of criminals.
 The  theory of a criminal  conformation of cranium has
 been abandoned  like the silly affectation of being able to
detect an offender by his "hang-dog"  or "murderous"
look.
  " Failings" must be studied in the light of the lessons
these facts  and  considerations combine to teach.   The 
Failings.                    23
moral question involved is one of responsibility for the
use each individual may make of the brain-power allotted
to him.  The neglect to employ gifts and capacities is as
grave an error, from an ethical point of  view,  as their
application  to a bad purpose.  The servant who buried
his talent in the earth was held accountable for the fail-
ure to use it, and thereby increase its value.  The parable
sets forth a truth of the highest practical interest.  We
are responsible for the development, by use, of the facul-
ties vouchsafed to us.   If they are allowed to remain in
abeyance, or a rudimentary state, we are to blame for the
deficiencies and  the failings to  which this neglect  gives
rise, and are without excuse.   The obligation to act up
to the level of known duty cannot be avoided.   A "fail-
ing" is an  act of contempt for the law of development
by use.   It is disobedience to an  understood command.
The fact that it is recognized makes a failing an offence.
There may be short-coming in the performance of a good
resolve.  Few, if any, merely human efforts are entirely
successful; but  the  failure which occurs when an en-
deavor is made  in the  energy  of a resolute and  well-
aimed purpose is not so much a fault as an insufficiency.
The rising  tide reaches its highest level by successive
efforts.  Self-improvement is effected in the same fashion.
The motive power of persistent good endeavor is accumu-
lative—ever advancing  like the great tidal wave of the
ocean—though the ground is  conquered  by short and
seemingly only half-successful advances.
   Failings, however, as we are  now regarding them, are 
24             Common Mind-Troubles.
excused  faults in the character which the individual
makes no serious effort to repair.  Some defects, as we
have seen, are inherited, and upon them it is the custom
to bestow great commiseration and little blame.  Now,
in truth, these are the least pardonable, because, if they
are  known  to have been  transmitted from parent to
child, the latter has, generally/the advantage of an ex-
ample, ever present to memory, by which to correct  his
personal deficiencies.  If the " failing " be a vicious pro-
pensity, he can recall its hideousness,  and thus stimulate
will and conscience to aid him in eradicating the fault.
If it be  some  form of deficiency, as  indolence,  lack  of
perseverance, want of  principle, or  the  like,  he  can
study, as in  the pages of history,, the evil  consequences
entailed by  the defect, and with diligence order  his own
conduct in  better courses.   Inherited  failings  are the
least excusable.   Even the materialist, who claims them
as the fruit  of  physical peculiarities,  must concede that
by  special culture  they  can be  remedied,  the  healthy
organism being susceptible of increased development in
any particular direction when the proper stimuli are  in-
telligently applied with a view to  its improvement.  The
apologist for failings which have been inherited  can find
no comfort in the philosophy of materialism.
  Failings which are peculiar to the  individual may be
less easy to detect, and the subject of these defects is, in
a measure, dependent upon experience and the monitions
of those around him for  the information needed to cor-
rect them.  This should keep the wise teachable and apt 
                      Failings.                    25

to. profit by the lessons life is ever reading for their in-
struction.  A self-reliant spirit is manly, and therefore
commendable; a self-sufficient spirit is unreasonable, and
therefore despicable.   It is strange how few of us grow
really wiser as we  grow older.   The work of self-im-
provement is seldom commenced until forced  upon  the
judgment  by  some awakening experience, and this is
rarely vouchsafed  until the ductile period of youth  has
gone by.   Early in the adult age of man, his habits  be-
come  rigidly formulated, and failings are then hard to
mend.    A world  of  unhappiness and disappointment
might  be  spared the  later years of life if the young
would be warned  to begin the business of training  the
character before it is firmly set in the mould of circum-
stances, with all the coarse  elements—inherited and con-
tracted—uneliminated, and the errors of inconsistency
and imperfect development uncorrected.
  It is in  the period of youth and adolescence  that  the
mind may be most hopefully cultivated  and the moral
character intelligently  formed.  No greater mistake  can
be made by a  young  and  vigorous mind than to treat
the faculty of reason and the instinct of moral judgment
as parts of the being  which may be left to their own
devices.  The  young man  bestows some thought on his
muscular system—he  trains  his eye, cultivates his ear,
and takes credit for prudence when he strives to develop
the vigor and to foster the healthy growth of  his body.
Is it wise—nay, is it  not rather the worst of  folly and
shortsightedness—to neglect  the  ordinary  development 
26            Common Mind-Troubles.

of those higher powers which  man possesses in a more
exalted degree than any of the lower animals ?   Taking
care for the  body while the mind is  neglected, is the
worst of failings—the most calamitous  and the least ex-
cusable. 
        DEFECTS OF  MEMORY.

  The faculty of remembering is not one of the higher
intellectual powers or functions.  Animals far below man
in the scale of intelligence exhibit  a capacity for recol-
lecting their associations with places, persons, and events
after  a long interval  of time has elapsed; and  even
idiots, with slow and  imperfect apprehension, are not
unfrequently seen to perform what must, in their con-
dition, be regarded as feats of memory.  Nevertheless,
loss or serious impairment of the  faculty will produce
grave mental  disability; and when either of these evils
occurs, in the case of an individual who has previously
given no indication of deficiency or defect, the change
may  reveal ground  for uneasiness, and,  in every case,
must  create anxiety to  discover the  cause.
  Memory, using the  term in  its popular signification,
is made up of two powers or faculties—that of fixing or
retaining a subject-thought in the mind, and that of re-
calling it at will.  It is a common experience to feel
conscious of knowing  a thing—for example, the name
of a  person or place, the whereabouts of a missing arti-
cle, the date or order of sequence of an event—but to be
unable to recall the information in detail.   Either of
these  powers may be at fault in a case  of "loss of mem-
ory;" and it is of the highest practical  moment to as-
certain which of the two is defective, not  only with a
                         27 
28
Common  Mind-Troubles.
view to repair, if that should be possible, but because a
clue may be discovered to the precise nature and cause
of the malady.
   The retention or fixing of ideas is very much a mat-
ter of  habit.  There are, doubtless, differences as to the
strength and clearness of the original  perception which
will affect the quality of the  impression.  Some persons
do  not  receive an idea as rapidly as  others, and many
who display the greatest celerity of apprehension  seem
satisfied with simply taking  up an idea for a moment,
and letting it  drop  instantly  afterwards.   Those who
exhibit  this peculiarity do not, in  fact, appropriate the
object, and convert it into a subject; they seize on it as
a porter grasps a package with which he  has  no con-
cern—by the cord or corners, or in any way most conve-
nient.   Some persons  learn by ear, and catch the jingle
of word-sounds, not their meaning.  Children who have
a special facility for picking up verses, are seldom really
quick in study, or  retentive.   Others  acquire  informa-
tion by  the eye; anything they can picture or dispose in
a particular order or  place—for example, a square—is
appropriated.   Such minds are generally endowed with
a lively perception of form  and proportion.  A third
class of learners are dependent  ou the power of connect-
ing scraps of information  for  their retention  of facts;
they seem to be  perpetually making a piece of patch-
work, and anything that can be tacked into a notch, or
on to the extremity of the work in hand, can be received,
while what  is not  capable of  being so placed, is sacri- 
Defects of Memory.               29
ficed, however valuable.  All these, and many similar
methods, are peculiarities in the way of receiving impres-
sions or ideas; but, speaking generally, they do no more
than lodge the subject in the outer chamber of the mind,
from which it may be swept by the first  rough wind, or
roughly ejected on the slightest internal commotion.
   When, therefore, the  memory  becomes a  blank, or
seems so have suddenly shifted and  lost its  cargo, it is
necessary, in  the absence of  any significant symptom of
disease, to inquire  whether  what  has happened is not
simply the discharge of useless lumber.   This sort of
experience occurs  not uncommonly just  as a youth has
completed that which is, under  a  serious misapprehen-
sion of facts, called his "education;" and  many a poor
fellow has been driven  to distraction, hounded on by
professional harpies, with the dread that he is suffering
from some terrible and life-blighting defect.   What has
taken place is the  sudden keeling over of a deck-laden
craft, with the  discharge of  her  laboriously-collected,
but  badly-stowed  cargo,  into  the sea.    If  the  vessel
rights  herself quickly, it is no bad  thing to have got
rid of  the encumbrance, although  it  may be provoking
to reflect that it is too  late to  put  back into port and
load again.  The  only expedient is  to  haul on  board
some of the more useful  portions of the  floating wreck,
and  stow them in the  hold.   A break-down of this
nature happens  every  now  and again,  and  will occur
while the practice of " cramming " boys at school and at
college, for "competitive"  examinations,  continues to 
30
Common Mind-Troubles.
 find favor.  It was a socially and mentally-mischievous
 thought, that notion of " competitive tests;" and among
 the sufferers are not only the many youths and young men
 who experience the mind-panic to which we are allud-
 ing, but the multitude of overtaxed and weakened brains
 that are abandoned as incapable—among them some of
 the best for  real  work—by  competitive teachers and
 trainers of the young, who conform their educational
 methods to the spirit and  fashion of the day.
   When loss of  memory occurs  in the manner indi-
 cated, whenever it happens soon after leaving school, on
 the  completion of any great  effort, or at the moment
 when the  mind is, for the first time,  brought face to
 face with  the  real business of life,  instead of giving
 way to crazy alarm, the victim of this misfortune should
 set to work to repair the loss caused by the accident, not
 by repeating the  errors of a faulty educational process,
 but  by developing his faculty  of  retention by honest
 and patient work  in a  new and healthy direction.   In
 short, one-half the so-called cases of "loss of memory"
 are simply  the  breakdown of a training which has been
 unnatural.   The circumstance that the faculty of remem-
 bering seems to be itself impaired by the catastrophe, is
 not in the  least surprising, because, in  addition to the
 immediate  effects of the shock, there is the discovery
 that the power of retention is, in truth, wanting.  The
real  faculty of memory  has  not  been  developed by the
system adopted, and the untrained mind has  to be culti-
vated anew.  Only what  has  been  thoroughly learned 
Defects  of Memory.               31
can be perfectly remembered, and  no process other than
that which brings the natural faculty of knowledge into
active exercise, can perform the true functions of mem-
ory, or is worthy to be so called.
   The fixing of subject-matters in the mind depends
directly on  the  manner in which  they are received and
dealt with in thought, immediately after they have been
appropriated, while the power of re-collecting the ideas
or impressions put away in the  mind is the outcome of
an orderly method of arrangement, and  for this reason,
always susceptible of development.  Just as an orderly
but forgetful person may deposit an  article carefully in
a suitable place, and afterwards be wholly unable to find
it, so a mind may have*treasured up an idea thoroughly
and safely, but be at a loss to recover it when wanted in
conversation or thought.   It is the fashion to assert that,
in such a case, there must have been something amiss in
the process  of  " putting away."  There may have been
a defect  in  this stage, but that is not a necessary infer-
ence from the fact of forgetting.  The fault is quite as
often in the manner of looking  for an object or an idea
as in placing it.  Very much depends on the knowledge
an individual possesses of his intellectual property.  If
he is in the  habit, so to say, of frequently taking out his
treasures of information  and his ideas, and  examining
and dusting them, he will probably be able to find them
readily when required.
  It is doubtless very unscientific to employ such a simile,
because, as everybody knows, or thinks  he knows, ideas 
32             Common Mind-Troubles.
are registered by the combination, or some change in the
constitution, of cells in the cerebral tissue of the brain ;
but for plain folk the notion of "placing" and "finding"
ideas at will is more intelligible than the jargon of scien-
tists, and  possibly fully as accurate.  The one point to
make clear is  that inability to remember is as often a
fault in method as a defect of power; and every sufferer
should exhaust all  the milder and more comprehensible
hypotheses of his difficulty before he worries himself with
the graver and  less easily remedied.   To throw a few
practical hints together, I may jot down the following
results of experience and observation.
  It is seldom any good to goad the memory roughly in
a moment of forgetfulness.   Instead of making a violent
and distressing effort to find the right word, if it does not
suggest  itself, think of another that will do as well; pos-
sibly the defaulting term will thus be recovered by asso-
ciation; if not, another may be substituted.   It is annoy-
ing to forget a familiar name or term; but the feeling of
chagrin, and the  collateral disturbance caused at the mo-
ment, are little likely to strengthen the memory.   An
idea, term, or  phrase, which  has  not quickly responded
to the  call of  the  will, should  be made the subject of
special thought and examined at close quarters—in fact,
learnt—when it is found.  In this way the memory may
be strengthened, whereas by conflict at the critical moment
of forgetfulness it  will be weakened.   It  is useless, and
worse, to resort  to what are  called technical memories.
The inducement to adopt formulae of facts or figures is 
Defects of Memory.               33
very strong when the pressure of work to be  " got up "
in a given time is  great;  but the practice is  ruinous to
the faculty of thought, because it not only throws it out
of use, but cripples it.        -
   The way to fix a subject in  the  mind is to master it
thoroughly, under all its aspects, so that the Reason and
Judgment may be familiar with it, each, in its province,
appropriating some special  fact concerning  it.   Real
knowledge  of a subject implies its  being  brought, in
detail, to the direct cognizance  of each of the leading
powers or faculties of the mind  in turn, so that if one
forgets, the others  will recall it.  People take only a
passing glance at an  object, and  wonder they  cannot
recollect it.   The faculties differ in their power of reten-
tion.  In some minds, Reason is the  most  highly gifted
with the power of taking in, or perhaps finding subjects.
When this  is the case, the individual  remembers only
what  he has reasoned about; and, if he has forgotten
anything, he must search  it out and recover it by a pro-
cess of  reasoning, or it will be lost.  Every thoughtful
mind  should try to ascertain  which  of its constituent
faculties is  the most effective in this work, and train it
for the purpose.   Half  the  folk who  go through life
bemoaning their want of memory, have excellent facul-
ties ready  for  the business  of recollection,  but, from
ignorance or inattention, persist in imposing the task  on
the most incompetent; for example, striving to remem-
ber by the ear when sight is their best remembrancer, or
trusting to the special senses  when the reasoning faculty 
34
Common  Mind-Troubles.
has special fitness for the function.  Memory is not so
much a faculty as a function, which may be performed
by either, or several, of the powers of the mind; but
these require to be specially cultivated.
  It follows, from what has been said, that " defects of
memory" are of very diverse natures, and need to be
closely  investigated before any general conclusion  is
drawn  from  the mere fact of partial  impairment, or
even total failure.   Some of the  phenomena of disease
are extraordinary.   There may  be loss  of power to
remember the occurrences of a particular period of life,
near or remote.   This form of malady is, in the absence
of special brain disease, generally more closely connected
with the  function  of apprehension than with  that of
recollection;  the  least well-appropriated facts are  those
forgotten.  Again,  there may be failure with respect to
certain  classes of subjects—for example, dates and fig-
ures—or  the  defect  may be  limited  even  to  certain
numbers.   Often, when this happens, there has been, in
former  years, either excessive activity  with  regard to
the particular subjects of thought which are, as it were,
effaced from the memory, or they were never thoroughly
mastered.  Some scientists explain these peculiarities by
the hypothesis that certain  congeries of corpuscles in
the brain  have been destroyed.  It may be so; but the
circumstance  that occasionally the whole blank is refilled,
as though by an electric shock, would seem to show that
they are rather thrown out of the vital  circuit for a
while, by some diversion or interruption of the current. 
Defects  of Memory.               35
The hypothesis of science is obviously susceptible of this
interpretation of the facts.  Any cause or state which
impairs the integrity of the circulation of blood through
a part of the brain, or  disturbs the rhythm  of nerve
energy, may  impair the memory;  and this is why loss
of memory or disorder of the function comes to possess
grave interest.
  It is, however, important to disabuse the mind of the
mischievous  impression that failure of  memory  must
needs be a sign of disease, whereas, it may be the con-
sequence of  defective  training or overloading.  Mean-
while, it is necessary to realize that probably no  early
indication of brain disturbance is likely to be more sig-
nificant than this mental  peculiarity.  The way to test
the symptom subjectively, is to cast about for any possible
cause of bodily  weakness—anything that  is  likely  to
have  impoverished the blood or lowered the tone of the
system—such as  loss of appetite, or deficiency of nour-
ishment, either in respect of quantity  or  quality, the
abuse of stimulants, or excess of any kind, which pro-
duces depression  after temporary  excitement, loss  of
sleep, undue  bodily or  mental labor, constitutional dis-
ease—in short,  anything which will weaken or exhaust.
If a cause is discovered, it  must, if practicable, be in-
stantly removed,  and the effect watched.  If no serious
harm has been  done, and the real source of the mischief
has been discovered and removed, the brain will resume
its normal condition,  slowly, perhaps, but sufficiently 
36             Common Mind-Troubles.

soon  to show that the true method  of treatment has
been adopted.
   These cases of loss of memory are  nearly all amena-
ble to self-help, and, while  the  physician  may  fail, and
the empiricist do dire mischief with his "opinions" and
his drugs, the intelligent sufferer can cure himself.  The
golden maxim of health, and the precept of self-recov-
ery, is  capable  of expression  in one word,  "Order."
This  is the  universal law of natural  life.  It governs
society, and it must control  the  individual.  Tested by
this standard, all that is right, true, moral, and excellent
in  conduct,  will  be  readily distinguishable from the
wrong, the false, the unholy, and  the  despicable.   Life
itself, in its integrity, is orderly action ; and every defect
of life, every form of disease, all failure,  whether of
body or mind—and failure of memory among the multi-
tude of unnatural phenomena—is  the fruit and conse-
quence of a lack of order.  In its lighter manifestations,
defect of memory is due to  the  disorderly management
of thought;  in  its graver forms, it is the  consequence
of disorder in the nutrition and  action of the brain. 
   CONFUSIONS  OF  THOUGHT.

   To become confused in  thinking is a common-place
experience, but  it is often the cause of great discomfort,
and when of frequent occurrence begets the fear of per-
manent derangement.   Sometimes the thoughts seem to
crowd in on the  mind, like a pack of wolves, with furious
rush and almost savage impetuosity, while the conscious-
ness is scared, and helpless to resist the onslaught or re-
establish order.   In this condition of aftairs the mental
instrument or organism, the  part with which we think,
is weakened  either by disease of the body affecting  the
mind,  as when a person is  struck down with  fever or
any other malady producing wild delirium; or by  the
exhaustion following continuous strain in a particular
direction, as  when the  thoughts  are fixed too  long  on
some subject of anxiety or perplexity.   This state is also
apt to occur when the  blood is impoverished,  and  the
brain is pressed  to work without sufficient nourishment,
or cheated to use up and exhaust, in its ordinary business
by the abuse of alcohol and other stimulants, the  strength
Nature designs to be stored for a time of sickness or ex-
tremity.
   The confusion that takes the form of violent  disorder
of thought is nearly always due to a physical—that is, a
bodily—cause, and must be met by measures adapted to
the improvement of the general health.  Sometimes the
                        (37) 
38
Common  Mind-Troubles.
evil may be cured by a judicious alteration in the char-
acter of the food, and the avoidance of drinks that give
energy for the moment at the cost of collapse afterwards.
A new order of meals, a totally different, though equally,
or more, nutritious, diet; longer, or occasionally less sleep,
may inaugurate a better state of  masters; but  often it
takes more  than this to mend the  mischief.   Change of
scene and complete diversion of thought into fresh chan-
nels may be necessary.  Nearly  always  there  is some
potent,  though  hidden,  perhaps  unsuspected,  cause at
work undermining or disorganizing the  bodily, and in-
directly the mental strength.
   In another condition, somewhat resembling that already
described, but essentially differing from it, there is an
inroad of thoughts less like ravening wolves than silly
sheep, that  seem to come tumbling over each  other in
sheer stupidity. The sensation is rather plaguing than ap-
palling, but it is wondrously annoying, and, if not reme-
died, may in the long run prove fully as troublesome, and
even as disastrous, as the more vehement malady to which
we have alluded.  In some instances there is a consider-
able element of the grotesque in this experience, and the
possessor of a mind so disordered  passes for a wit; but
the humor is maudlin, and  the current is uncertain; he
breaks down suddenly  in his play of pleasantries, and
the watchful observer can detect the signs of conscious
weakness and inability to revive the unnatural gaiety of
a false state.  When there is no conscious  humor in the
whirl of thoughts, it may be simply worrying or distress- 
Confusions of Thought.             39
ing, as when the mind longs to be at rest, "if it were only
for a short half-hour;" or is earnestly desirous of fixing
itself on some topic—perhaps one of serious or even solemn
concern—but cannot command the attention.
   Sufferers from this form of confusion go  on for years,
harassed and  exhdusted by the  turmoil of living in a
crowd and din of thoughts from which  escape seems im-
possible.  The disorder—like the rapid passing of scenery
as one is borne along a line of railway at high speed, like
the ceaseless rush of water, like the swarming of bees—
pursues its victim even into the realm of sleep. Of course
persons who are so affected do sleep, and the brain rests,
or they would  not be able to go on year after year with
impunity; but they have pone of the comforting sensa-
tions produced by natural repose; they feel awake and
worried, or bewildered up to the last  moment of con-
sciousness, and they rise,  without any sense  of being
refreshed, to a state of weariness  which ill befits them
for the struggles and anxieties  of another day.
   This is a mmc?-disturbance, in contradistinction to that
indicated above, although in a large proportion of in-
stances the state was first established by the  irritation set
up in the course of some bodily disease; or it has become
confirmed—so  to say, stereotyped on the brain—by pro-
longed physical suffering.  For the time being,  whether
it be brief  or long, the mind is incapable of acting as its
own master, and is practically a mere piece of machinery
for making the simplest  impressions perceptible to the
consciousness, without order or judgment, and with little 
40
Common  Mind-Troubles.
or no power of distinguishing between the pictures derived
directly from the external world through the senses, and
those that come tumbling out of the recesses of the mem-
ory as though some mental house-cleaning process were
on hand, and the whole establishment in the direst con-
fusion.  The faculty of "thinking" seems to be in abey-
ance, and  the consciousness  is a forced  spectator of the
disorder on its own premises, powerless alike to restrain
or re-arrange.
  The cure for this state of mind is generally compli-
cated  and  too often  impracticable.   The cause must be
removed,  and as  this is  not unfrequently inseparable
from the mode of life, the personal state, and entangling
circumstances of the sufferer, to insist on the first condi-
tion of recovery is like commanding the rising tide to
retreat.   That is why so many persons struggle on year
after year under this form of confusion; and,  unless re-
lief is afforded by  the  course of events, weak minds
finally succumb to the worry without respite.  Anything
that will  break  the  monotonous rhythm  of a life thus
wearing itself  away may be  the means of recovery.
Sometimes domestic calamities are blessings in disguise,
and in after-times  there is cause to look back with grati-
tude on what at the moment of its infliction appeared an
overwhelming disaster.   Of course, the  pleasurable re-
liefs are the most  to be desired, and they accomplish  a
cure with the least  risk and  greatest celerity.  Mean-
while, it is noteworthy that minds laboring under this
peculiar form of weakness, and seemingly ever on  the 
Confusions of Thought.             41
brink of ruin, are not  especially prone to be crushed by
any great sorrow or to be unseated  by a sudden shock.
Their  peril is that of exhaustion  by the worry that
haunts them ; in other respects they are as strong as the
average  of  intellects,  and hence the good prospect of
cure that lies in the  path of proper  treatment, when-
ever, happily, that  is practicable.
   Next  to the removal of the cause of this mind-state,
and  sometimes, though rarely, successful without its re-
moval, is the inspiration  of new vitality into the Will.
By a strong effort of the judgment the mind, in certain
instances, reclaims control of its own territory.   This is
a  noble  triumph of "self-help" at which  all, especially
those who are unable  to shake off the  coil of crushing
circumstances, should  aim, and upon which the  intelli-
gent mind should set and centre its remaining  strength.
There  is a wonderful faculty  of self-development  in
every  part  of the  being of man,  whether mental  or
physical,  and each  faculty grows  by  use.  The effort
which  succeeds  in restoring order, or keeping the rush-
ing thoughts disentangled, if not orderly, does more than
passing good; it re-conquers some portion of the province
of mind from the rebel crew who run riot and threaten
to perpetuate the confusion that reigns within.
   The best method of procedure is to  busy the faculty
of thinking with some unaccustomed topic—the way to
do something, or the cause and reason of an unexplained
phenomenon.   It is generally useless to try to mend the
confusion by a direct effort to control the thoughts. The 
42
Common  Mind-Troubles.
sovereignty of the will can only be re-established by an
exercise of independent authority acting at first in a new
sphere.   For example: let  the sufferer select a subject
and manner of thought of which he has no previous ex-
perience.  The desultory thinker  may commence  the
study of mathematics;  while  the  mind accustomed to
figures should be engrossed with history or fiction.  In
any case, and whatever  the  subject selected, the exercise
which is to be remedial must be undertaken as a task, a
certain number of pages set down  to be read or tran-
scribed, whether the attention is interested or not.  Per-
severance, and a renewal of the effort at stated times, say
once or twice a day, always as a duty imposed  by the
will, and enforced by the same authority, generally suc-
ceed.   If, in process of time, the mastery is so far recov-
ered that a complete train of reasoning can be pursued
without irritation, the gain will be considerable.
  The confusion of which we are now speaking may be
experienced in any degree, from that occasional loss of
the command of  thought  which  begins  in  desultory
thinking or reverie, to an utter lack of any power to do
more  than lie at the mercy of thoughts which neither are
bidden nor can be dismissed.  The points to make clear
are (1) that the condition is essentially mind-debility;
and (2) that it has been brought about either by weak-
ness of the controlling power, or rebellion of those agents
of the consciousness whose function it is to perform the
duty of impression receivers and carriers, to  bring the
inner self into relation with  the outer world, and inform 
Confusions  of Thought.            43
and affect it with  the intelligence of events transpiring
around.  When these agents are not  under discipline,
they come rushing into the presence with burdens of all
descriptions—good, bad and worthless—and heap them
on the mind, with no regard to will, order or memory.
  There are other forms of confusion of thought which
might be particularized, but they all group under one or
other of the two broad  classes I have attempted to de-
scribe.   The confusion may be general or partial, im-
pairing the thinking powers as a whole, and in relation
to every variety of subject, or relating only to some.  It
may apply to past events, categories of names and num-
bers,  or only to trains of reasoning in which something
has to be " thought out," and the mind is found incapa-
ble.  These are points of distinction of great interest to
the psychologist, but scarcely worth the attention of a
sufferer who is interested to get rid of the burden  rather
than  to examine  its intimate  nature  and construction.
Undue anxiety about the  subjective  symptoms of the
malady  is  to be avoided; and, although to some tem-
peraments  it is a relief  to understand  an enemy, little is
likely to be gained by dwelling upon the evil.   Better
far concentrate effort on the work of self-cure.
   Every known cause  of weakness must  be  eradicated
from the habits of life;  the Will is therefore  the  first
agent in the task of recovery.   Regrets are useless, and
mere wishes will  be vain.  "Resolutions" and "inten-
tions " are generally of no force.  The resolves  begotten
of fear are the least trustworthy of all.  If the mind 
44             Common  Mind-Troubles.
has been  weakened by vicious self-management, or by
allowing petty annoyances to get the better of the judg-
ment, it  is not much good  to vow and protest  amend-
ment.  The simplest and least violent, or demonstrative,
processes  of persuasion are  always the best in  dealing
with self.  Never mind the  future, and, as far as possi-
ble, forget the past.  Man  lives in.the present, and this
matter of self-remedy is an affair of now.   It is  because
we find  the sorrow of evil  courses to be an immediate
experience that we try to reform.
   The conscious  misery of being unable to command
one's own thoughts should be enough to make any man
or woman anxious to regain  the lost, or  restore the fail-
ing, power of self-control.   To accomplish  this result,
the authority of the master-faculty of mind must be in-
stantly brought into action.  " Why is this susceptibility
or that propensity my tyrant ?"  " Why do these troubles
so deeply affect me ?"   " Why am I the slave of a par-
ticular impulse?"  These are the questions the Judg-
ment must ask itself; and when the humiliating answer
comes, " I have neglected to fortify  my  mind  against
these annoyances," or, " I  have allowed my inclinations
to run away with  me," Will  should re-assert  its su-
premacy with the self-respect becoming a  faculty which
was destined  to  command, but, through error or indo-
lence, has sunk to obey.
   Those who allow  their whole being to engross itself
with circumstances,  and never rise above the dead  level
of surrounding and pressing facts, are  always likely to 
Confusions  of Thought.              45
be overwhelmed by the afflictions of the life that absorbs
them.  The road is ever rough and troublesome to those
who tread the path with eyes bent on its ruggedness and
difficulties.  It is sorry work tearing through the bram-
bles without the hope of rest and a compensating plea-
sure beyond, and, when the eyes are never lifted above
the jungle, a man might, for all mental and moral pur-
poses, as well  grope his way through one of those dense
forests where the light of day never peuetrates and  the
air is stagnant  and reeks with wild decay.  Those who
are void of any hope  and comfort in  life, except  that
which  they can pick up in its dark recesses and on hard
flinty roads, fall an  easy prey  to gloomy and  plaguing
thoughts, which nothing but  a better and  higher view
of the present and the future can amend.
   The feelings do not become blunted  by misfortune;
the faculty that feels grows more acutely irritable as its
peculiar  function is  exercised on  trifling  annoyances,
until at length the whole  sensibility becomes morbid
and the  mind diseased.   The like is true of the effect
produced on propensities and  inclinations which are al-
lowed  to throw off their allegiance to the authority of
Judgment  and Will.  Each act of rebellion  confirms
the spirit of revolt, and quickly the  unbridled instinct
or appetite—be it vanity, or the passion  for pleasure, or
anything else—begins to usurp  control of the higher
faculties  it has deposed.  In  process of time it obtains
the mastery of the mind itself, and the individual  be-
comes insane. 
46             Common Mind-Troubles.
   This is the painful and  humiliating history of many
a ruined  life.  The evil began in the  indulgence of a
wanton, because undisciplined, ambition or longing for
self-gratification.   The license was repeated; and, as a
spoilt child, the aspiration, whatever  it  may have been,
became importunate.   Before long the Judgment ceased
to be consulted; next the Will lost the power to check;
and then, growing with  its rebellion, the  insurgent in-
stinct succeeded in subjugating the faculties of mind one
after the other  until  all mental power became the slave
of the  tyrant,  and the errant forces fell  to destroying
each other, or to revolving round a single " fixed idea."
   To  avert  this  mischief there  is  only one  possible
remedy, and  that is the recovery of self-control.  Confu-
sion of thoughts  is disorder, and the disorderly action
of forces which are endowed with the highest powers of
influence  for good or evil can never be safe.  The wear
and  tear of mind and of the intellectual gear is self-de-
structive, and the smallest damage to  the supreme power
and  authority  of  the  Will ought to be instantly and
earnestly repaired. 
        SLEEPLESSNESS  FROM
                  THOUGHT.

   Inability to stop the rush or flow of thoughts often
seems to be the cause of wakefulness; but it may be the
inability to sleep that throws the brain into a state of
worrying excitement.  This last explanation is the more
probable, because the thoughts  that engross or distress
the mind as the head lies sleepless and unresting on its
pillow are  more forcible, vivid, and, generally, painful,
than those  which engross the attention by day.  In part,
this intensifying of thought  by night is due, no doubt,
to  the  exclusion of  external objects and impressions.
The mind  is, as it were, thrown in on itself, and left a
prey to its  own reflections.  There is, however, more in
the exaggerated and distorted state of thought, when the
brain will  not or cannot sleep, than mere isolation ex-
plains.   If the mind is absorbed or engrossed within
itself by day, when  there is no  question of sleep or
sleeplessness, however oppressive  or torturing  thought
may prove, it does  not  lose the  faculty of estimating
sorrows and losses,  pains and gains, by comparing them
with other  experiences; whereas, it is  one of the  disa-
greeable features of  sleepless thought, that the  most
trifling  evils and causes of anxiety assume unnaturally
vast proportions, so  that what would occasion no distress
                        (47) 
48             Common Mind-Troubles.
by day, is the source of acute suffering or annoyance at
night.
  From these and other circumstances and experiences,
it may be concluded, that what is  called " sleeplessness
from thought" is, in fact, a state considerably more com-
plicated and unnatural than the phrase implies.   It is a
condition in which the  brain, so to  say, stops short on
the way to sleep, and the mind, being adrift from its
moorings to firm fact, is tossed up and down, and to and
fro; while, ignorant of  its position, it still busies itself
with the objects on shore, until  their bearings and pro-
portions are lost or confounded.   This is why those who
are habitually sleepless find it good policy  to get up and
read when the fit of wakefulness comes on.   Not  only
does the act of reading produce drowsiness, but the mind
is prevented from passing into a state of turmoil so dis-
tressing and injurious as that which too commonly occurs
in sleeplessness from thought.
  The loss  of power to cast off the burden of the day,
and  find  rest in  unconsciousness  or  forgetfulness  at
night, is one of the greatest of personal afflictions. Only
those who have endured  it know how terrible this ex-
perience, in  its worst form,  may prove.   There  is no
escape  anywhere,  no respite,  no—even  momentary—
lessening of the strain on the mind,  when sleep is im-
possible ;  and the worry is  increased when the mind,
instead of finding ease,  falls  into a  state in which every
source of disquietude seems exaggerated.   Sleeplessness
of this  sort is often the prelude—and  it may be either 
Sleeplessness from  Thought.            49
 the first indication, or itself the cause—of insanity. The
 condition into which the mind is thrown when endeavor-
 ing to sleep is essentially unsound and tends to disease.
   Physicians, realizing  the peril of the position, give
 their  patients  a drug  of some  sort  to procure sleep.
 They do this with the  double purpose of breaking the
 habit of wakefulness when this has been formed, and of
 rescuing the mind from a condition in which it is unsafe.
 The method of  treatment would  be more satisfactory if
 we could only believe that what is called " sleep " would
 put  an end  to mental activity.  Unfortunately there is
 little ground for such a hope.  " To sleep—perchance to
 dream!"  The gain will be small  if  the  mental dis-
 quietude and  disturbance   are  not  relieved  by  the
 poisoned and mimic sleep produced by drugs.  The dan-
 ger  will  be only  masked,  not removed.   Those  who
 adopt this treatment  point to cases in which, after a few
 doses of a  sleep-potion, the sufferer has regained  the
 power of falling asleep naturally.   Such patients have
 undoubtedly been benefited  by something, but it is still
 an open question whether the  relief may not be due to
 mental influence rather  than the medicine.  However
 this may be, the point in which we are chiefly interested
 is the state which precedes and seems to bar sleep.  We
 recognize its perils; in what way or by what means may
 they be avoided ?
  Examined closely, the condition of  thought-worry
preventing sleep will be found to be one in which the
thinking  faculty is beyond   control. We  may start  a 
60             Common Mind-Troubles.
subject, but we cannot either keep the attention  fixed,
or compel thought  to take rational  and  comparative
views of the objects presented  to it.   There is a tend-
ency to exaggeration, which the judgment  is powerless
to restrain or correct.  There is at the same time another
peculiarity, which throws  more light on  the nature of
the condition, namely, an  impulse to repeat; the mind
goes over the same ground again and again.  The ex-
planation of this phenomenon is simple and suggestive;
there is a perpetual endeavor to  sleep, and although the
circumstance  may not  be  recognized, each  train of
thoughts breaks  off  at the  precise  moment when  it
ought to become a dream,  and every recommencement  is
a new departure after a fresh act of wakefulness.
   It requires careful notice of the subjective symptoms
to perceive  the real  nature of this  experience.  The
faculties appear to be fully awake and in great activity,
but their highly sensitive state is the effect of an arrest
of the tendency to  sleep.   This is the counterpart of
what some individuals feel when they are too  suddenly
awakened.   They seem to be conscious, and to  recognize
the persons  and  objects around them; but a  sense of
apprehension, amounting almost to  horror,  holds them
spell-bound,  and fancy colors  the  scene with hues in
harmony with  the  disordered  state of thought.   This
happens on  the way back to perfect wakefulness, when
the return is tardy.  The condition we are describing
occurs on the road to sleep when the way is barred.
The point to make clear is, that it is quite  as likely the 
              Sleeplessness from  Thought.           51

distressing thoughts of a sleepless person  are the conse-
quence of the wakefulness, as that the inability to sleep
is occasioned by thinking.
  Thoughts, passing through the mind when the brain
is falling into a state of sleep, ought to be of a nature to
change easily into a dream.  They are essentially tran-
sitional,  half-defined ideas  and  inferences, like  those
present to the consciousness a person slowly awakening,
until  he  is  thoroughly  aroused.  The  problem is to
carry the mind  over the boundary  line,  and convert
what is  conscious but uncontrollable  thought into a
dream.   If this can be accomplished naturally—that is,
without the aid of drugs, which  stupefy the conscious-
ness and burlesque the state of sleep rather than produce
it—the  subject  of thought  will be soon changed, and
oblivion,  or  at least  forgetfulness, induced. The  solu-
tion of this problem may be attempted by either of two
processes.
   1.  A particular thought, or train of thoughts, present
to the mind may be seized upon  at the moment  of their
occurrence,  while  as yet  they  are  manageable,  and
turned  into  grotesque, thus preparing them to become
the  material  or centre  of  an   amusing dream.   This
method is less  easy to describe  than  to carry out; but
experience  proves that  it  is   abundantly efficacious.
Fancy must be directed  to play with the thought, and
weave a little scene or story out of its slenderest threads.
Just enough effort to preserve the connection of ideas is
necessary, or the expedient will  fail, thought reverting 
52             Common Mind-Troubles.
to its former worrying courses.  The secret of the method
lies in holding  the thought fixed, and projecting the
train  of ideas by  fancy on  a line  which may carry it
into dreamland, the  dreaminess  of  thought  inducing
sleep.  This is a perfectly natural and rational process,
and it is harmless, whereas  the production of  stupefac-
tion by drugs  is artificial, and more or less perilous to
brain and  mind.   The  one lulls  the consciousness to
sleep, the other overpowers  it with  a poison.
  2. The alternative mental method by which sleep may
be sought, consists in giving thought a monotonous task
in the way suggested by those who can win  sleep by
counting,  repeating, and  the like  expedients.   This is
more  difficult  in really bad  cases  of " sleeplessness from
thought"  than that first described—in which an idea, or
train of ideas, already present to  the mind, is converted
into grotesque.  The mind  is not easily taken out of
itself when engrossed with worrying topics, and, though
fancying corn-fields and rising tides,  or counting and
piling up packages, or smoking an imaginary pipe, and
watching the clouds of tobacco smoke rise over the  head
—so as to direct the eyes upwards  as in sleep—are  good
enough devices, it is not always practicable to  shut out
distressing or  plaguing ideas, and concentrate the atten-
tion on these meaningless conceptions for the full suc-
cess of which the sleep-wooer needs a vacant rather than
a harassed  mind.  It is an  effort quite as great as the
wakeful, but worried, can make, to turn a troublesome 
Sleeplessness from  Thought.           53
thought into grotesque imagery; but this  is easier than
to call up a wholly new and incongruous idea.
  It may be worth while to try the connecting and mo-
notonous imagining method familiar  to everybody, but
when that fails, as it generally does, recourse should be
had to the artifice I have suggested; and as a rule it
will be found  to succeed, although at first, if the  mind
be possessed  by  unpleasant broodings or bodings, the
effort to think grotesquely will be grim and  resented.
For  instance,  a man plagued  with distressing circum-
stances, and   dreading ruin, should  force his mind to
pursue the train  of thought until the comic side of  a
reverse of fortune becomes apparent—following out the
straits to which he will,  perhaps, be reduced, some new
phase of life upon which he may be compelled to enter,
the strange acquaintances he is likely to form, the won-
derful scenes he will witness, and the remarkable places
he may visit.   The element of probability must be dis-
regarded, and the mind allowed or rather compelled, to
work out  the idea.  The effort  will, at the outset, be
laborious and uncongenial, but  unless  the  mind be
wholly devoid of  humor, the severity will relax, and
with relief will come sleep.
  " Sleeplessness  from thought" is, as I have tried to
show, not unfrequently wakefulness induced by physical
conditions, and thought as a consequence.   It is quite as
easy to carry  exertion beyond the limits of a natural
longing  for repose, and past  the point at which  the
brain readily finds relief in sleep, as to stop short of  the 
54
Common  Mind-Troubles.
 necessary but undetermined and  ever varying  measure
 of exercise required  to favor sleep.  The majority of
 persons who suffer from persistent wakefulness, are ad-
 dicted to excess of activity rather than indolence.  They
 work hard and exhaust themselves, though not in the
 right way.  Some  are  too  much  engrossed with  pleas-
 ure, and dissipate their  strength; others are so absorbed
 with work, that they  cannot shake off its obligations in
 the time set apart for rest.
   Perhaps the most general cause of sleeplessness of the
 kind we are considering, is  the  habit  of carrying work
 over from day to day, instead of parceling  it out  so as
 to create natural breaks in the enterprise, when the mind
 can rest with  the consciousness that duty has been dis-
 charged, and  a task  accomplished.  Nothing so  much
 conduces to sleep as the feeling of contentment, and this
 feeling can generally  be produced by giving the mind a
 tale of work  in  the  morning which may be  completed
 before the time of rest.   When the obligation has been
 fulfilled, the  mind seeks, and generally finds, repose as
 the  recompense of its toil.   To break off  suddenly  in
 the  middle of labor,  and expect to command sleep at
 call, is unreasonable.   The  relations of body and  mind
 are intimate, but  it is  seldom that the physical part of
 man's nature can be  so subjugated  that he shall sleep
instantly at will.   Regularity is essential to orderly and
harmonious working,  and not mere punctuality as to the
measure of time, but the fulfilment  of the day's duty
within the time allotted for its performance. 
Sleeplessness from  Thought.           55
  It is a common  mistake to plan the business of the
following day at night.  This is like turning over a new
page, when  the  book should be  closed and laid aside.
The task of laying out schemes for the future ought to
be  the  first duty  on waking, and  if it were  then dis-
charged, many  mischievous  dreams, and  much of the
feeling  that a whole night has been spent in  dreaming,
would be avoided.   The  fatigue of a reluctant  waking,
with no immediate purpose  present to the mind, often
undoes  the effect of rest in sleep.  When  people begin
to toss on their pillows, they should rise;  or  if that be
impossible, then  begin to arrange  the work of the coming
day.  Each night should see the book of life closed, with
the feeling that  the account has been duly made up.  It
is the task of the morning to  carry over the debit or
credit, and start afresh.  No one who  is wise will risk
the  peril of  carrying  over the balance  before  sleep.
There are fifty physical  and  mental reasons why the
balance of the day's work should not  be even struck at
night, but one is all-sufficient.  Sleeping on resolves for
self-improvement  is a mistaken policy; in the  interval
of sleep the motive-effort subsides,  and the evening and
morning story seldom agree.  Better far finish the work
of the day, close the record, and seek rest.   When the
consciousness  returns, examine the situation,  lay plans
for the future, and while the impression lasts act on it.
   We are too fond  of moralizing  at night, and of re-
suming the business or pleasures of life in forgetfulness
of the lessons taught, and the resolves suggested by re- 
56             Common Mind-Troubles.
flection, after the lapse of memory which sleep, even in
its lightest forms, supplies.   Sleeping and  waking  are
states which are mutually dependent, and must  succeed
each other in orderly sequence if health is  to  be pre-
served.   Life is very much  an affair of rhythm, and a
sound mind  in  a sound body can be secured only by
concord, method, and orderly self-control, by the Will. 
 HESITATION  AND  ERRORS  IN
                   SPEECH.

  Speech is, in a practical  sense, more than the mere
instrument of thought.  It is so far an  essential part of
the faculty or function of " thinking," that little beyond
a simple recognition of the impressions received through
the sensations can be accomplished  without  the aid of
language—at  least  in  one   of  its  elementary  forms.
Thought and speech are so connected, that it is impos-
sible to separate them.  It is not a necessity that speech
should be articulate and audible.   It may be set in any
key, from the loudest voice-utterance to  the  mere self-
conscious conception of certain sounds, as  when a person
thinks  the pronunciation of a word, clearly marking its
peculiarities in his own mind, but  in a manner imper-
ceptible to any one else.  If the performance of this act
—pronouncing a word in thought—be closely examined,
it will  be found that there  is an  impulse, as it were, to
move the lips and tongue, but so restrained,  that com-
monly  no obvious muscular  action takes  place.   There
are exceptions to this limitation which not only prove
the rule, but  show how intimately thoughts and actions
are connected.
  In sleep, during dreams, and in the case of  some per-
sons, especially the aged and feeble-minded, when awake,
the lips move with nearly every thought, though no audi-
                         57 
58             Common  Mind-Troubles.

ble sound is emitted.   When the restraint, normally ex-
ercised, is less forcible,  or the  impulse  stronger,  the
thinker involuntarily speaks his thoughts; and comical
stories are told of persons who have betrayed their real
sentiments inopportunely by  this process of  thought-
speaking.  Faults in speech are, therefore, likely to  be
due to defects in thought, the  two faculties being mutu-
ally dependent; or the reverse may be the case, and im-
pediments and errors of speech  react  mischievously  on
the mind.   Much interest and importance attach to the
conclusion arrived at with respect to  the  real  cause  of
the hesitation or error which marks the utterance of any
particular sufferer.
  First, make quite sure that it is not ordinary confu-
sion  of thought, consequent  upon a  slovenly  habit  of
thinking or the miserable practice of  allowing  thoughts
to drift, which  has  produced the faltering  or mistake
that   occasions anxiety.   Many persons  permit their
minds to become overrun with  tangled  scrub, so that
nothing short of  the most acute or agile powers of way-
finding can carry a thought safely through the domain,
and  then they complain of the difficulty of  thought-
driving !  Clear away the jungle that renders  the mind
impassable, and  thought will no longer  be found  to
wander by circuitous paths, and  toq often be irrecover-
ably lost.  The only measure by which this self-improve-
ment can be accomplished is one of culture; the degree
of labor required will vary from that  of a settler in the
backwoods, who finds it necessary to clear and dig every 
          Hesitation and Errors in Speech.        59

square yard of the land he would convert to useful pur-
poses, to the ordinary weeding and  breaking the clods
which  may suffice to repair the results of a single season
of neglect.  In  any event, however great  or small the
task may be, the cultivation must be accomplished, or
this, the most troublesome  and  inconvenient cause of
speech-blundering, a weedy, tangled, and  lumpy state
of mind cannot  be  remedied.   We  are not  now con-
cerned with faults of the motor apparatus or mechan-
ism of the  voice; and, excluding these, it may  be as-
serted that,  of all causes of hesitation or error in  speech
which lie, so to say,  deeper than the surface, the neglect
of self-control in thought is the most  common and, in
many senses, the most mischievous.
   If a person  who  has previously  been  an easy and
fluent speaker begins to hesitate in  his utterance, there
is generally reason for anxiety.   Supposing the general
health to be good, and nothing specially notable to have
happened in the  life of the individual which might have
produced  what  is commonly  called a "shock"  to the
mind or  the nervous system, there is  probably some
physical or  mental disorder in the background, to which
attention should be directed.   If the cause be physical,
the attempt to speak will generally be accompanied by
trembling or twitching  in  the muscles of the  mouth,
the lips, the nose, or the jaw.   Should  any such  symp-
tom be perceptible to friends, or self-detected,  it will be
wise to seek medical  advice without delay, because  it
may be produced by conditions the  most important, or 
60             Common Mind-Troubles.
comparatively trivial, and  no one except a skilled prac-
titioner can determine from which of several sources the
agitation springs; whether it indicates mere weakness
or serious disease.
   Commonly, when there  is none of this trembling or
twitching, and  sometimes even when these are  present,
the hesitation is mental.   Either the mind  is too busy
with a crowd of thoughts to maintain proper command
of the word-finding function, or that faculty is so en-
feebled that it seems incapable of any reasonable activity
in the service of the Will.   It is quick enough in  the
response to influences which have no right to usurp con-
trol, but when  the master-spirit  of thought, the Judg-
ment ruling  by the  Will, issues a mandate, the faculty
is powerless to obey.  This comes of a riotous or vicious
habit of thinking.   The mind-weakness which results
from the  terrible error of  mental dissipation, whatever
the direction  in which the thoughts are permitted to dis-
port themselves, is one of the most  perilous conditions
of exhaustion into which  the faculties  of a  still sound
brain can be allowed to sink.  It is a state of which the
mind in danger is itself conscious long  before any indi-
cation  becomes recognizable by others.   Hesitation  in
speech is one of the earliest external symptoms which
indicate this malady, but when that occurs, the weaken-
ing power has  generally been in secret  operation for a
length of time sufficient to accomplish serious mischief;
It is not, as a matter of fact, too late to mend matters; 
Hesitation and Errors in Speech.         61
but the individual who has permitted  his mind to pass
into this condition has incurred a great peril.
  This is  a point on which it is  necessary  to speak
plainly.  Habits of musing, brooding, or conjuring up
mental pictures and scenes in which the thinker is him-
self an actor, and  into which he gradually brings his
faculties of imagination, and even his sensations, are the
overlooked, the  unconfessed, perhaps the unrecognized,
causes of by far  the larger  number of attacks of  " in-
sanity."  And, though it seems cruel to say so, the great
majority of poor creatures, especially  the  younger and
middle-aged persons, who with wrecked minds drag out
weary years  in  lunatic  asylums have themselves  to
thank for  the experience.   Any one  of a  score of ex-
isting causes may overbalance the mind or occasion the
outbreak and  determine the particular form  the mind-
malady ultimately assumes;  but the predisposing cause
which renders the disaster possible and entails all the
evil consequences is the  morbid habit of allowing the
thoughts  to wander  uncontrolled,  at first  innocently,
then in forbidden paths, and finally wherever the haunt-
ing demon of the  inner life, a  man's worse nature, his
evil self, may lure  or drive them!
   The habit of pre-occupation  which sometimes shows
itself  by  hesitation  in speech  is less dangerous  than
weakness,  but it  should  not be  neglected.   Having
"too much to think about" is not so bad  as having
exhausted  the power of voluntary thought, but it  is an
evil.   "Too much" does not always mean more  than 
62
Common  Mind-Troubles.
the mind ought to be able to receive and deal with.  It
is quite as often too much for the defective discipline of
thought  maintained, as really more than a due quantity
for the  mind engaged if the business of thinking were
properly conducted.  There  is a marked tendency in
modern education—and it increases each year—to neglect
the training of minds.  The subjects which were prin-
cipally useful for purposes of mental development and
exercise are being eliminated because they do  not com-
mend themselves to the commercial instinct of the day
as producing marketable information.   Greek, Latin,
mathematics, and the like, are not  possessed of  a high
value in the mart of commerce or on 'Change, and they
are therefore lightly estimated.
  We are beginning to reap the fruit of this time-serv-
ing policy in education, and  it takes the form of a gene-
ral break-down  of  young minds when  set to any duty
which involves  dealing  with a crowd  of thoughts at
once.  The untrained and  disorderly  thinker  cannot
choose his words, he  has "no time" to arrange them,
and can seldom find them when wanted.   He is " think-
ing of something  else."   It has  come to be thought
rather clever to  be " abstracted," and  " so engrossed,"
" with many things to think about!"   These are the
pitiful excuses offered by a generation  of incompetent
and confused thinkers when their speech  betrays them.
A clever talker will often bridge over  the gap between
two  right words in place of interposing a wrong one.
It is amusing  and, in a certain sense, interesting to 
Hesitation and Errors in Speech.         63
notice how admirably this is done  by self-possessed
though confused speakers;  but the evil of disorderly
thought  lurks behind, and may be detected through the
flimsy, though  ingenious, artifice.
   The remedy  for a growing hesitancy in speech, when
not the result of serious mind-weakness—and the person
affected is generally secretly conscious of the cause—is a
better method of thinking.  The first effort must be to
preserve greater calmness : the second, to be more orderly
in thought.   There is a process in thinking  which is the
counterpart of dotting the i's and putting in the stops in
writing,  or  of knotting the thread and " fastening off"
securely  in needlework.   If this be neglected, as it com-
monly is by what  are called  rapid—another word for
careless,  reckless, or impetuous—thinkers, entanglement
and confusion in thought, showing themselves in hesita-
tion and errors of speech,  are inevitable.
   Verbal blunders are generally due to confusions of
thought, but sometimes to disease.  It is important to
distinguish between the two varieties of this  fault.   The
former is a  matter  for self-improvement, the latter will
require medical aid.  If the  mistakes made seem to
follow no particular line of error—if they are, so to say,
general or capricious, the wrong words substituted  for
what  it was wished to say being taken  at random, per-
haps  from some other sentence at the  moment darting
across the  mind—the "confusion" may be safely set
down as one to  be cured by mind-discipline.   If, on the
contrary, particular words, previously familiar and ready 
64
Common Mind Troubles.
at hand, are forgotten, certain numbers dropped out of
memory, and a sort of method  seems to determine the
occurrence of faults  in speaking or writing, the matter
may be more serious, and advice should be sought.  It
is a curious feature of the early forms of speech-disorder
springing from physical sources—for example, incipient
disease of the brain—that particular elements of knowl-
edge seem to be effaced, and special processes of thought
or reasoning can  no longer  be performed, although the
great mass of mind-work goes on unimpaired.
  A world of trouble would be saved  if, in all mental
derangements, apart  from  brain-disease, persons  who
feel  things going amiss with them  (and I am convinced
this  premonition  of mind-disorder is  a common expe-
rience), whether the sensation be  one of  "irritability"
or of " confusion," would undertake of their own  free
motive, to cure the evil by subjecting  the consciousness
to a  regular course of training.  The best plan is to set
the mind a daily task of reading, not too long, but suffi-
ciently difficult to give the thoughts  full employment
while they are engaged.  This should be performed at
fixed hours.   Perfect regularity is essential, because the
object is to restore the rhythm of the mind and brace it
up to higher tension.   When, as in the class of cases we
are considering, hesitation and errors in speech  are the
characteristic symptoms of  a break-down or impaired
vigor of mind, much good will often  be done by reading
aloud for an hour or more daily to the family.
  It is not only useless but harmful to read aloud when 
            Hesitation and Errors in Speech.        65

 alone; the mind conjures up an imaginary audience, and
 this habit of " conjuring up " things  is one of the short
 cuts to insanity which should be carefully avoided, more
 particularly by those who are most expert in the exer-
 cise—the highly imaginative.  Another drawback con-
 sists in the fact that when a person reads aloud,  without
 a real audience to engross that portion of the thoughts
 which will wander from the subject,  the mind becomes
 engaged  with the sound of the voice through the faculty
 of  hearing; and this paves  the way for other mischief.
 It  is by  gradually substituting in fancy, and then mis-
 taking, their own voices for those of other beings, that
 the weak and  morbidly-minded become impressed with
 the notion  that they are honored or plagued, as  the
 mood may determine, with communications, super or
z extra-natural—which  are in truth the echoes of their
 own imaginary utterances.
   By reading aloud  any healthy  and improving work
 which is so interesting as to engage the thoughts,  the
 strained  connections between thought  and  speech will be
 relieved.  Properly employed, this is one of the most
 patent and  effective  of remedies for disorders of  the
 faculty of speech; but it is essential to success in  the
 experiment of self-cure that the book read should be of
 a nature  to interest, and sufficiently difficult to hold  the
 attention.  In  some cases the exercise is rendered more
 effectual  by reading aloud in one language from a work
 written in  another—for example, a French book to an
 English  audience.  This gives practice in the choice of 
66             Common Mind-Troubles.
words, and brings the memory into play, the two facul-
ties it is desired  to develop and strengthen.  Hesitation
and errors in speech are of great moment, view them as
we  may.  In  their less  serious forms they demand  a
vigorous effort  for self-improvement;  in  their more
grave varieties they portend  the existence of  perils to
brain and mind. 
LOW  SPIRITS.
  There is enough in the, daily experience of life to
depress the feelings  and rob the mind of its buoyancy,
without  having  to  encounter  lowness of spirits as a
besetting mental state or malady.   Nevertheless, it  so
frequently assumes the  character of an affection essen-
tially morbid, attacks individuals who are not naturally
disposed to despondency, and gives so many unmistaka-
ble  proofs of its close relations with the health of  the
physical organism, that it must needs be included in  the
category of  disease.   The  constitutional  melancholy
which distinguishes  certain types  of character and  de-
velopment, is a  setting  in  the minor key rather than
depression.   Within  the  compass of a lower range, in-
dividuals of this class exhibit as many changes of mood
as those whose temperament is, so to say, pitched higher,
and who therefore seem to be capable of greater elation.
  It  is important to ascertain at the outset whether a
particular person upon whom interest may be centred is
not naturally characterized by this restrained or reserved
tone  of feeling!  Unhealthy conditions  of mind  are
generally to be recognized by the circumstance that they
offer a contrast to some previous  state.  The movable,
excitable temperament may become fixed and seemingly
unimpressionable, the self-possessed begin to be irritable,
the calm, passionate.   It is the change that attracts atten-
                         (67) 
68
Common Mind-Troubles.
 tion; and when low spirits come to afflict a mind wont
 to  exhibit resilience  and  joyousness, there must be a
 cause  for the altered  tone, and prudence will  enjoin
 watchfulness.  Mischief may be done  unwittingly by
 trying to stimulate the uncontrollable emotions.
   There  are  few more common errors than that which
 assumes lowness of spirits to  be a  state  in which an
 appeal  should be  made to the sufferer.   We constantly
 find intelligent and experienced persons, who show con-
 siderable skill in  dealing with other mental disorders
 and disturbances, fail in the attempt to relieve the pains
 of melancholy. They strive by entreaty, expostulation,
 firmness, and even brusqueness, to coerce the victim, and
 prevail upon  him to shake off his despondency.  They
 urge him to take an interest in what  is passing around,
 to bestir himself, and put an end to his broodings. This
 would be all very well if the burden that presses so
 heavily on the spirit  simply lay on the surface, but the
 lowness of which I am speaking is something far deeper
 than can be reached by " rallying."  It is a freezing of
 all  the energies;  a blight  which destroys the vitality, a
 poison that enervates and paralyzes the whole system.
  It is no use probing the consciousness for the cause
 while the depression lasts—as well look for the weapon
 by which a man has been struck senseless to the earth,
 when the victim lies faint  and  bleeding in  need of in-
stant succor.   If the  cause were found at such  a mo-
ment, nothing could be done to prevent its doing further
mischief.  Supposing it be discovered that  the mal- 
Low Spirits.                  69
 ady is the fruit of some  evil-doing or wrong  manage-
 ment of self, the moment when a crushed spirit  is under-
 going the penalty of its error is not that which should
 be selected for remonstrance.  It is vain to argue with a
 man whose every faculty of self-control is at its lowest
 ebb.  The judgment and the will are dormant. The show
 of feeling made by the conscience in the hour of dejec-
 tion is in great part  emotional, and the purposes then
 formed are sterile.  The  tears of regret, the efforts of
 resolve, elicited in the state of depression, are worse than
 useless; they are like  the struggles of a man sinking in
 a quicksand—they bury  the mind deeper instead  of
 freeing it.
   The state of mental collapse must be allowed  to pass;
 but here comes  the difficulty; the moment reaction takes
 place, as shown by a slight raising of the cloud, it will
 be  too late to  interfere.   The mind will  then have
 entered on another phase not  less morbid than  the de-
 pression which it has replaced.  There is no certain in-
 dication of the right moment to make the effort for the
 relief of a sufferer from this progressive malady.  The
 way to help is to watch  the changes of temperament
 narrowly and, guided by time  rather than symptoms, to
 present some new  object of interest—a trip, an enter-
 prise, a congenial task—at the moment which immedi-
 ately precedes the recovery.  The soul lies brooding—it
 is about to wake; the precise time can be foreknown only
 by watching the course  of previous  attacks; whatever
engrosses the rousing faculties most powerfully on waking, 
70             Common  Mind-Troubles.
will probably hold them  for  awhile.   It  is a  struggle
between good and  healthy influences on the one hand,
and evil  and  morbid  on  the other.   If it  be earn-
estly desired  to  rescue the sufferer, the right method
must be pursued, and wrong and mischief-working pro-
cedures—among  which  preaching, persuading, moral-
izing, and rallying are the worst  and most  hurtful—
ought to be carefully avoided.   When  the  thoughts are
revived and the faculties rebound, they must  be kept
engaged with cheering and healthful subjects.
   There is no greater error than to suppose good has
been accomplished when a melancholic patient has been
simply aroused.   The  apparently  bright  interval of  a
malady of  this class is  even more perilous than  the
period  of  exhaustion  and  lowness.  The  moment the
mind resumes the active  state, it generally resumes the
work of self-destruction.  The worst mischief is wrought
in the so-called lucid interval.   The consciousness must
be  absorbed and  busied  with healthful exercise, or it
will re-engage in the morbid  process which culminates
in depression.  The problem is to keep off the next col-
lapse, and this can be accomplished only by obviating
the unhealthy excitement  by which it is commonly pre-
ceded and produced.  Healthy activity promotes nutri-
tion,  and  replenishes the  strength  of  mind and body
alike; all action that does not improve the quality of
the organ acting, deteriorates it and  tends to pervert nor-
mal function.
  The continuous morbid  state of  melancholy is pro- 
Low Spirits.
71
gressively built up of successive attacks of lowness and
despondency.   It is  in  the intervals of seeming relief,
while this deadly work is in progress, that the cause may
be discovered, and  probably removed.  In most cases
the sufferer is  conscious of the way the depression has
been  brought about, or of the train of reflections by
which it has been ushered in; but it is vain to hope, and
a mistake to try, to  elicit the  fact by questioning.   The
existence of any known  cause will be repudiated.  Un-
less the patient becomes his own physician, there is little
chance of a direct cure.
  The mind commonly varies in mood with the state of
the body, and when  energy is exhausted, the impulse or
flow of the animal spirits is checked.   Depression often
springs from a physical cause, and  if  no  mistake were
made in dealing with  it, small mischief would  result.
Unhappily, serious misconception  prevails.  It has been
discovered  that by the use of a stimulant the reserve of
nervous strength which nature has  designed to act, not
merely as a resource in  emergency,  but as  the founda-
tion stock  of energy,  the basal cause  of resilience—as
the contained air of  a bagpipe—may be pressed into the
service  of the  passing moment; and  careless of the ruin-
ous impolicy  of  this resource, stimulants are adminis-
tered,  and the  excitement produced  is mistaken for
healthy action. ~ The exhausted brains, irritable nervous
systems, impaired intellects,  incapable of any  useful
work, and  the blighted lives, of those who resort to this
pernicious  palliative for  low spirits, should warn the 
72             Common  Mind-Troubles.
sufferer inclined to try the expedient, and act as a deter-
rent to friends searching  for  a remedy.  Lowness is
exhaustion,  and anything which tends to use  up the
reserve of strength, must ultimately increase the evil it
is meant to cure.  By stimulating instead of nourishing
the brain, the mind is, in process of time, reduced to a
condition of  lasting  incompetency,  whereas,  without
such mistaken assistance, it would, probably, recover its
buoyancy.
  There is always danger of converting  a mere  tempo-
rary suspension of function, dependent upon recover-
able debility  of an  organ,  into  permanent incapacity
by  pressure  of excitement, while the  lapse  of power
continues.   The peril is  especially great in relation to
functions of the brain.   It  is  therefore a measure  of
common prudence to treat  the state  of low  spirts  as
one of temporary  exhaustion, and to  give time  for re-
covery  by the  process of brain nutrition.   If a mind
is  conscious  of having  passed through one  cycle  of
elation and depression, it should avoid the cause, what-
ever that may have been.  It is always a wretched, and
generally a ruinous  bargain, that a debased  judgment
makes with self for the purchase of a transient pleasure.
The prudent will  not thus barter mental strength and
sanity for a passing distraction.   It matters little what
the dissipation may be, except that some forms of self-
gratification ruin body and mind together: however un-
natural, or untimely, or inordinate, excitement is brought 
Low Spirits.                  ?3
about, it acts in the same pernicious way, impairing, and
at length destroying, the vitality.
  It would be difficult to name any state or mood so
commonly deplored and  little  understood, as this  we
are  considering.  Men and women may drag out weary
existences in sorrow and difficulty, enduring that most
poignant of pains, the heartache, without suffering from
this malady.   The  depression they experience is rather
that of crushing and  pressure  than exhaustion.  The
mind makes an instant effort to rise when a gleam of
hope, however weak and  evanescent, glints across the
path.   It is  astonishing  how  elastic are the  healthy
spirits, and  with what  ready energy they recover when
relief comes.   Meanwhile, the loss  of  resilience which
supervenes on repeated exhaustion increases with each at-
tack.  The truth about this lowness will never be known,
unless its real nature is recognized.  Alienists speak of
"rotary mania," in which paroxysms of excitement and
periods of melancholy succeed each other.  This  is only
an  intensified development of the state we are speaking
about.  Periodic attacks of low spirits—call  the mood
by what name we  may—are morbid  manifestations of
the same kind, though less  in  degree, and as yet un-
formulated.
  Let those who suffer from this  infliction beware; let
them above all  things, recognize  the  nature  of the
malady, and  foresee its issue.  Let them also  realize
how completely, at the outset, the prevention of the
evil  lies within the scope of their own  powers of self- 
74
Common Mind-Troubtes.
help.   When once the disease has passed  beyond this
early stage, it rests with others to help; and if they will
ponder the hints here thrown  together, they may  be
able to avoid doing mischief, and perhaps  lend lasting
aid.   Two  opposite  extremes are to be avoided with
equal care—doing too much, and doing too little.  The
error of interference in  cases where  meddling  must  be
mischievous must be great;  but the fault of standing
by idly while poor folk drift  into hopeless melancholy
or dementia is greater.  It needs extraordinary patience
and a large  share of natural  intelligence to  determine
when and how to interpose.   I have tried  to show that
the time must  be judged  by the period of  the attack
rather than the symptoms; and it follows from what
has been said that  the endeavor must be to lead the
mind  back  to health by new  paths which shall awaken
new sentiments and  call  up fresh impulses.   The two
most deadly perils to be avoided are despondency and
quackery.   There  is always  hope  in  Nature loyally
obeyed, and despair in "special" treatment, however
sagaciously  applied. 
    TEMPERS-GOOD AND BAD.

  Bad temper, or, more accurately speaking, want  of
temper, is one of the most  regrettable and the gravest
defects  of  character.   The  explosive irritability that
makes a man " boil over," as the saying is, " like milk,"
when heated by the slightest provocation, cannot  be set
down as by any means  the  most serious form of fault.
It stands in the same relation to real  malignity as, what is
commonly  called,  "nervousness"  to cowardice.   The
man who starts at the cracking of  a piece of furniture
may not flinch before  the onslaught of a deadly foe;
trembling at an unexplained sound or shadow, he may
stand with a face of  flint when  known danger has to be
encountered.   In the same way the superficially excita-
ble are often the most self-controlled and imperturbable
when the first outburst of passion has, so to say, cleared
the atmosphere.  Such  temperaments may not conduce
to the easiest relations and the smoothest intercourse in
domestic or social life, but  they are incomparably more
compatible with the  requirements of genuine friendship
than many of  the placid and inscrutable  mental consti-
tutions not so readily understood.
  Temper of mind and character is something akin to
the tension of  strings in a  musical instrument, or the
temper  of steel.  If the stretch be equally distributed,
the sounds produced, or the  cohesion and elasticity pos-
                         75 
76
Common Mind-Troubles.
sessed, are well formulated and trustworthy.   If there
be  faults in the quality or character, the vibrations fail
to emit a true tone, and the strength is treacherous.  In
short, temper is an outcome of personal constitution in
which the separate qualities and the mutual reactions of
mind and body play a conspicuous part.  To grasp the
subject in  any scientific sense  it would be necessary to
take into account more of the mental  and physical prop-
erties than can be comprehended within  the limits of a
brief paper.   Let us rest content with a cursory glance
at  some of its  more practical phases.
   The emotional part of man's nature seems  to lie near
the surface, and rasponds most  readily to those external
impressions which act superficially.   This is why " feel-
ing," in its popular sense, affords no  certain measure of
the inner and  deeper qualities of sympathy and benevo-
 lence.   The sentimentality  expressed by  the emotion
 may be great  when there  is little or  no real  interest or
 kindness.  The surface is stirred by  the passing breeze,
 but the depths are sullen  and still.   On the other hand,
a deep current of genuine feeling  beneath  may impart
so  much motion to the whole that the surface will be
less responsive to external influences, just as the flutter
of  a falling leaf may ripple the  mirror-like pool, while
a stone  hurled into the  strongly running  stream will
scarcely disturb it.
  The annals of crime curiously and painfully illustrate
the  value,  or  rather  worthlessness,  of what  is called
" feeling."  Not a tew of  the most  malignant and cruel 
Tempers—Good and Bad.
77
murders have been perpetrated with remorseless inge-
nuity, occupying months  or  even years in elaboration,
by men  and women  of highly emotional natures, and
exhibiting  traits of acute sentimentality and  quickly
responsive  feeling.  Some of the notorious poisoners
have  been  persons of  almost preternaturally sensitive
organization.  Nothing therefore can be inferred from
the mobility of a  temperament as  to  the qualities of
heart that  underlie the demeanor.  Nevertheless there
ought  to be a general  accord  between the upper and
lower strata of the character, and, if the psycho-physical
constitution be well grown and tempered, there will be
conformity.
   Tempers are " good"  or " bad" as  they hold  the
qualities, the properties of mind and  body in unison.
It is too much  the practice to judge temper less by the
general  character than by its  accidental peculiarities.
If the temper always,  or even  commonly, reflected  the
character, of which it is only a quality, this rough and
ready method might  be permissible; but that is rarely
the fact.  The  majority  of  mankind have  been, so to
say, beaten into  shape and molded by associations.  The
result of this education by circumstances is found to be
a heterogeneous rather  than  a  perfectly consistent char-
acter, and without homogeneity there cannot be an accu-
rate  and equable temper.   "Hasty"  tempers are  the
product of an irritability that often, if not generally,  lies
on the surface.  The fault is nearly always due to some
want of conformity in the relations of mind and body ; 
78             Common  Mind-Troubles.
 one is weaker than the other.   The weak of body are
 irritable because their physical powers do not instantly
 and adequately fulfil the behests of the mind.
   Perhaps there is no more persuasive evidence  in sup-
 port of the belief that the brain is only the instrument,
 not the source and  factor, of mind, than the impatience
 with which the Will overrides, and the intolerance with
 which it  treats, the brain-weakness and incapacities of
 which the mind is  self-conscious.  Take, for example,
 the irritability begotten of a sense of humiliation  and
 vexation because it is impossible to encounter the ills of
 daily life  with greater equanimity—a common cause of
 irritability, which is seldom understood, and for which
 few persons  make  allowance, though it  is extremely
 painful to the sufferer.   What is this temperament  but
 a mind irritated  by the weakness or imperfection of its
 own brain-power ?  The individual is irritable because
 he  is irritable.   Cause and effect are confounded, and
 the consciousness is embarrassed  by  the  inability to
 extricate itself from  the tangle.   Those who are worn
 by pain or worrying distress of body or mind know by
 bitter experience how terrible  this irritability is; and
 how small is  the sympathy to be expected  from those
around.  A most painful self-consciousness of this kind
is  that  endured  by persons in seeming health  but of
weakly physical  constitution,  and  those who are  the
victims of secret suffering.   The struggle to be calm, to
exercise self-control,  to  blunt  the  sensibility to petty
annoyances, to oppose a bold  and  courageous front to 
Tempers—Good  and Bad.
79
circumstances, is exhausting,  and  matters  grow worse
instead  of better, despite the effort and wasted strength.
It may be some consolation, and even helpful, to those
affected with this form of irritability to know that their
peculiarity is not wholly unrecognized, and  that it arises
from bodily causes, although the experience  is mental.
   The weak or small of mind, on the  contrary, suffer
less inconvenience from their irascible tempers than they
inflict on  those who  are exposed  to their  fury."  The
full-blooded and passionate have generally  more animal
force than they  know  how to keep under proper control.
The superfluous energy must-find  a vent, and provided
always that this can  be accomplished  harmlessly, the
explosion, though unpleasant,  is  not to  be regretted.
Vigorous constitutions caged by  local  disease or disa-
 bility are especially prone to this form of outbreak.   In
 the case of prisoners it is often developed to the dimen-
 sions of a periodic malady, and, the storm  being misun-
 derstood,  is too frequently punished as a new crime  or
 intentional  act of rebellion, whereas  it  ought to  be
 treated as an explosive disease.
    The remedy for this last-mentioned form of " tem-
 per," whether the mind be healthy but small, or morbid
 or unoccupied, which is  much the same in effect, should
 be sought in work.   The physical force needs to be uti-
 lized, and it will  be  well  if it can be turned to account
 with some worthy purpose and  result.  If the " Bengal
 tigers," and the passionate folk  generally, of all ages
 and conditions of life, who storm and rage through the 
80
Common Mind-Troubles.
world, to the discomfort of those with whom they are
brought into contact, could  be supplied with congenial
occupation, and a vent for their energy in some useful
physical enterprise, they would be spared many regrets,
and those around them much needless annoyance, and
even injury.  The self-cure of this temperament should
take  the form of exercise, of sufficient  quantity and
kind  to give the body more  work, and the mind better
command of the organism and machinery for which  it
is responsible.
  The reverse order of temper—the  sullen and unim-
pressionable—is  generally to be regarded with distrust
or anxiety.   There is a certain stolid temperament, the
complement of stupidity, of which no judgment can be
formed except from the character as a whole; it may be
either the fruit of general inertness, or a lack of quick
sensibility,  under which lurk the vices of  pure animal-
ism.  When, however, we  find a cold, immovable ex-
terior, with indications of  quick intelligence behind,
there  is reason to mistrust appearances, and  cherish some
fear of the reserve maintained.   It would not be uni-
versally just, but  it  is generally true, to  say of these
mysterious  temperaments that  they are dangerous.  The
moral nature seems  hide-bound.   The inner being, the
"heart"—call it what we may—is not in natural rela-
tions  with the outer world;  companionship, in any real
sense, is difficult, and confidence, unless it  has been en-
gendered by long observation  of conduct, is impossible.
The temper may be stable, but it  is not trusted, because 
Tempers—Good and Bad.           81
it  lies beyond  the reach of ordinary social  tests, and
affords none of the familiar and accepted indications of
character.  It is like a barometer with the face covered.
The mercury may be duly affected  by the external con-
ditions, but there is nothing to show that it is, and the
individual is a  moral sphinx.
   When  an immovable temperament  is  allied  to  a
kindly and honest nature, the individual  is at first re-
garded with suspicion, if not dislike;  and if, in  process
of time, he comes to be understood, he is respected rather
than  loved.  There can  be no question that this frigid,
insensible exterior, with an unimpassioned character,  is
to be regretted.  Those who feel themselves dissociated,
as  it were, from  those  around  them by the lack of
average  sensibility, will  do wisely to cultivate the emo-
tions, at least so far as to obtain command of the faculty
of expression.   It is a misfortune to be so reserved that
confidence cannot  be  inspired, even when the real feel-
ings are genial and benevolent.  Sometimes this reserve
is simulated rather than actual.  An acute sensibility
may  be repressed  by the spectacle of emotional display,
and  conduct known  to be aWariance with the actual
character, in others.  The observer represses his own
"feelings," and by degrees they become immovable.
   Occasionally the like effect is  produced  by  contact
with natures uncongenial or insincere.   The man with a
seemingly cold and insensate temperament  has  in self-
defence, or under  the influence of a strong feeling  of
aversion, retired into himself, and  is  henceforth appar- 
 82             Common Mind-Troubles.

 ently immovable, though  not really unmoved.  In  the
 study of individual character, it is necessary to take all
 these possibilities  into account, and make due allowance
 for every factor contributing to the general result.   The
 complexity  and delicacy of the  task naturally render
 misconceptions probable; and  not a few of the charac-
 ters and  tempers  we  encounter  are  what mistake  has
 made them.  The honest and sturdy mind will struggle
 against  the  force of circumstances, and break down  the
 barriers accident may have raised around it.   In this
 work of correction, faults of temper  may be amended,
 while false impressions are removed.
   The really sullen  temper  probably no  sort of  treat-
 ment, addressed to  the  mere remedying of  surface
 defects,  can  improve.  It is the almost constant  coun-
 terpart of an unsympathetic nature, selfishly intent upon
 its own  secret ends and purposes.  The isolation at  the
 surface is  the reflex of isolation at heart.   The lack of
 response to appeals from without is due to the fact that
 their force is not felt.   There is no expression  of feeling
 because  there is none to express.  The self-consciousness
is  engrossed  with  its own  concerns, and  unmoved  by
those  considerations of regard  for the outer world and
 its affairs which give shape to the anxieties of hope and
 fear that stir the emotions and  influence the conduct of
 less obdurate beings.   The combination of a sullen tem-
 per with an  intelligent mind argues thorough selfishness
of the lowest type, which no mere  change of manner
can transform.   It does not  follow that the inner nature 
Tempers—Good and Bad.           83
with its  motives and  impulses  must be malignant, but
they have no direct  relations with  the  surroundings of
the individual, and are neither responsible to the mute
appeal of suffering nor sympathethic with the sorrow or
happiness of others.
   It would be  wrong  to say  that  the world lays too
much stress on mere  peculiarities  of "temper," but it
cannot be denied that the prevailing method of forming
an estimate is  unsound.  Idiosyncrasies of temperament
are not immediately under  the control of the will,  and
it is well that this should be so.  Direct attempts to re-
form vices of temper  are therefore commonly unavail-
ing.  The aim should  be to amend  those defects of the
inner character out of  which the faults of manner  and
method spring.   Irritability should be cured by atten-
tion to the physical  health  and avoidance of habits of
thought which leave the mind a prey to the caprices of
fortune, or render it the creature of circumstances.  To
most minds the cultivation of emotional sensibility is a
mistake.   Unfortunately the conventional developments
of taste,  especially that of the dramatic instinct—which
all highly sensitive natures possess—give impetus to the
growth of sentimentality, and, unless the " heart" be as
tender  as the " feelings " are  acute, there is a perpetual
peril that the outer  temperament will cease to represent
the inner consciousness, so that the emotions no longer
express the deeper sentiments; and,  when this happens,
irritability of  temper  and insincerity of character  are
quickly established. 
84             Common Mind-Troubles.
   True temper, in the best and  only worthy sense, im-
plies perfect  truthfulness and consistency.   If the heart
be right, the temper may be improved by acquiring more
complete control of the emotional nature;  but improve-
ment must begin within and work outwards.  If the out-
side of the cup and the platter be cleansed, while the in-
terior is foul, the pretended  improvement  will not only
be unreal, but it will consist in the assumption of a fic-
titious calm more mischievous than the wildest vagaries
of the  uncontrolled mind.  Temper is a quality of order
and self-management which, to be natural, must spring
naturally from an  orderly and well-disciplined nature;
and, unless it be thus produced, it is not temper at all,
but the counterfeit presentment of a quality; worse than
valueless because false, and fostering insincerity.  Strong
and deep feeling will generally seek warm expression in
telling tones and vigorous deeds.  The glamour of judg-
ment which enforced restraint casts over a nature prac-
ticed in  self-control is only excellent when  passion  is
ruled by reason rather than curbed by policy or a cold,
passionless sentiment of  self-interest  and esteem.  The
expert novelist  endows  his consummate scoundrel with
perfect temper, while he credits  the  guileless hero with
an  impulsive and generous emotional nature which
hardly brooks control.   In  the main, the principle em-
bodied in this method of portraiture is true  to nature,
albeit the artifice is somewhat hackneyed and apt to be
exaggerated in detail.
   The Supreme Ideal of Perfect Humanity presents 
              Tempers—Good and Bad.            85

entire sincerity as  the first  feature of excellence, and a
faithful expression of the deeper traits of the character
completes  the  picture.  The  moment  consistency  is
marred either by  excess of seeming emotion on  the one
hand, or by artificial restraint on the other, harmony
and every claim to respect for integrity are destroyed.
\ 
MENTAL  LANGUOR  AND  LIST-
                  LESSNESS.

  Theee is a mental trouble to which the scholar or
student is expressly prone.   It attacks him with little
warning, and cripples the sinews of endeavor.   His am-
bitions then seem unattainable, the prizes of life hang
out of reach, the fruit so longed for  seems sour,  the
game not worth the  candle.   Not a few great writers
have described such experiences.   It is not  precisely a
condition of dejection or low spirits; nor yet is it one
of exhaustion  or overstrain ; rather it is a sense of lan-
guor or mental lethargy.  Everything seems an effort.
The stimulus to which the faculties are wont to respond
is efficacious no longer.  The will to work is gone.
  This state of mind is,  as we have said, one to which
studious  persons are  particularly liable.   A  thoughtful
writer (Dr.  J. A. Wilson) has said of it, "It  is  the
scholar's great affliction;  it is  bred, with thought,  be-
neath the brow that  never sweats."  While it may not
last long, it is apt to recur often.   The editor, busy at
his  desk, suddenly feels the fatal influence steal over
him, his grasp on  his subject  weakens, the  pen drops
from  his hand,  his ideas move  sluggishly  or seem to es-
cape him altogether;  he is utterly graveled for lack of
matter.
  The lawyer, listening to his client's story, discovers that
                         86 
Mental Languor and Listlessness.        87
he is not following it; his mind refuses to seize and apply
to it the principles of the law; his thoughts wander and
grow hazy ; he wonders whether he will be able to avoid
yawning  in  his  client's face; a sort  of aversion to the
whole  matter possesses him, and he feels that  the utmost
he is capable of is to get rid of  the importunate visitor
without betraying himself.
   So it is with the college student, eagerly cramming for
his examination.   Just at the time when he should put
in double work he is aware of an irresistible  inclination
to lean back in his chair, throw away his books, and let
his thoughts idly wander on  fruitless  and  inane objects.
The very power to make the effort to resist  this seduc-
tive influence is wanting.   The  stirring  music of the
coming years, which ordinarily stimulates him, sounds
distant and feeble.  Rather the subtle strain of the lotus-
eaters  whispers in his soul—

             " Death is the end of life: ah, why
              Should life all labor be?"

  This is more  especially  a malady  of youth.  With
some it recurs at certain hours of the day, with others
at certain seasons of the  year; with some it is but slight
and occasional, but with  others it  is a serious matter, in-
terfering with their usefulness and much more with their
happiness, for this mood is often  the affliction of earnest
and conscientious workers, men of real ability, great in-
dustry, and  corresponding  ambitions, and to  them  it
brings  not only loss of time,  but  distrust of themselves 
88
Common  Mind-Troubles.
—harassing doubts as to their own competency.   They
reproach themselves  with  inefficiency;  they confound
this  peculiar condition with  indolence, and take them-
selves  to  task for harboring  inclinations  to  laziness.
Such unpleasant  reflections pursue them in their more
active hours, and  cast a  cloud over their lives.
  It is much to be able  to say to such, Be of good cheer;
this is one of those mental  troubles of no  such  gloomy
significance.  It depends on physical  conditions, some
of the body, some of its  surroundings, which if properly
watched and respected,  will prevent this  tendency  to
languor recurring often or having any serious effect on
your life.
  To another class, also, such  words will be welcome,
to those who, watching the youth or the young man, be-
come alarmed at  these spells of uncalled-for weariness,
this ennui of labor in the midst of interesting occupation.
To such we can say, Fret not; bide your time;  this is
a phase of  mental development which will pass away as
time progresses, if only it  be properly understood and
intelligently dealt with.
  If the symptoms are looked at more closely, this dull-
ness  of the faculties will be found to be  associated with
a heaviness  of the head  and with an oppression of
the  breathing,  which inclines  one to  yawn and gape.
Sometimes the face feels flushed and the leg falls asleep,
as it is called.   Occasionally—we may say frequently—
there are  sensations  of uneasiness about  the stomach,
oppression, or fullness, or hollowness—some of the legion 
Mental Languor  and Listlessness.        89
of disagreeable  feelings which attend dyspepsia.  The
muscles seem flabby and their contracting power gone.
The secretions are nearly always irregular or disordered ;
the hands and feet may be hot and dry, or else cold and
damp ; the bowels bound and other functions scanty.
   Such symptoms point to the cause of the  trouble.
Usually it is no difficult task to the physician to point
it out; it  lies direct  to his hand.   Frequently it  is such
a common matter as lack of sleep, a late  supper, undue
excitement, cessation  of accustomed exercise.  The change
of  habits from an active outdoor life  to  one  of indoor
and sedentary customs,  is a  reason  often sufficient to
account for such attacks.   The abuse—which is often
synonymous with the use—of tobacco  is responsible for
them at times.  Again, in not a few cases, this  languor
is but a form of hunger; when it is  apt to come at a
regular hour previous to meals, this is  almost  sure to be
the case.  The nutrition of  the system is below  par, its
fuel is failing, and this is the sign  it gives in  the brain-
worker instead of  the  true  sensation  of hunger  felt bv
the muscle-worker.  An English physician calls it the
hunger of the professional man.
  But there are  cases which none of the  above  reasons
explain.   Instead  of searching within, let us  then look
without.   Defective  ventilation, a  close re-breathed air,
one whose oxygen  is consumed by gas-lights and people,
is a very fertile source of the  trouble.   The inefficiency
of both teachers and pupils in many  a school-room, is
easily  traceable  to this  neglect.    They  are  oppressed 
90
Common  Mind-Troubles.
with  mental  languor,  because  their  blood is impure.
This vitalizing fluid on which the activity of  the brain
so directly depends, has  no chance to rid itself of its
worn-out materials, and to  brighten and freshen itself
with the necessary oxygen.
  Again, there are certain states  of the  atmosphere
which greatly tend to the production of mental languor.
Many sensitive people are quite unable to do their  best
in a foggy day with a  low barometer,  or while the  still
and sultry atmosphere of a summer day is gathering the
thunders for a storm.   Even the lower animals at such
times appear to share in the general sense of  depression.
Is it the ozone that is at fault, too much of it, or too little
of it ?   Well, in fact, no one knows, but for the present
we  may say something is wrong with the ozone.
  And now for the question, what is to be done?  What
has already been said as to the causes  will supply some
hints.  But let us go more into detail.
  It is safe to say that what  is usually done is quite
certain to be wrong.
  The great Goethe suffered more or less from  this men-
tal trouble, and he tells us in his Conversations that his
rule was, when he found  this disinclination to work
stealing over him, to brace himself all the stronger, and
force himself to do precisely that toward which his disin-
clination was strongest.  Was he wise in this? We think
not. Such violent measures are indeed the recourse of
many determined minds ; but it  is at  their great peril,
and often to their great damage. 
          Mental Languor and Listlessness.        91

  Another plan is to call in the aid  of a  mental stimu-
lant, a cup  of strong  coffee, a  glass of some  alcoholic
beverage, a  powerful nervous  tonic as quinine or nux
vomica.   This we are sure is unwise, deleterious, seri-
ously damaging.   It amounts, as the old saying is, to
burning the candle at both ends.  It is whipping up  a
jaded steed, already weak from want of food.
  What  should  be done should  be with a  twofold
purpose:  first, to relieve the  immediate  trouble ; next,
to prevent its importunate recurrence.  For the first, a
complete change of the current of thought, at least for a
little while, is needed.  The  mental appetite is staling
with monotony—give it another dish.  Drop the subject,
and take up  another.  Better still, cease mental work
for a half-hour; a  brisk walk in the open  air, a light
conversation on  indifferent topics, a bath and  an active
rub-down will, in many cases, restore the wonted energy.
In  other instances, as we have said, nourishment  is
needed, and in these nothing is better than a cup of hot
consomme, with a raw egg stirred in it;  or, in summer,
a plate of ice-cream and a biscuit.   If the spells come
on at regular  hours, the course of the day's work should
be  laid out differently, so that these hours should be
occupied with either physical exercise or a different kind
of mental labor from that which hitherto  occupied them.
  For the general  prevention  of this trouble, the life
should  be  subjected  more strictly  to  sanitary  rules.
Plenty  of sleep is  demanded, the  meals  regular  and
moderate, excitement avoided, moderately laxative miu- 
92
Common  Mind-Troubles.
eral waters freely  used, narcotics  and  stimulants dis-
carded, the mental faculties employed with steadiness,
but not over-driven.  If, when these simple and familiar
preventive  measures  are  observed,  the  attacks do  not
quite or almost disappear—if  they continue, or even in-
crease—it is time for more decided steps.   The pen and
books must be  laid  aside, the study shut,  the  office
locked, and health  sought in the keen air of the moun-
tain-top, or in the  free breezes of lake or ocean.   Vain
and perilous is the attempt to  fight the  battle out;  the
foes the man  has to contend with are those of his own
household—nay, they are more than that—they are those
of his own soul;  and, in any such contest, the danger is
imminent that they will gain  the day.   Here is where
prudence is valor and retreat is victory.  What is  the
defeat we thus not  obscurely intimate?  Let  it be put
in the words  of  one  of the greatest living writers on
insanity, Dr. Daniel  Hack-Tuke :   " One of the early
warnings of danger of .a mental break-down is an ina-
bility to do the same amount of mental work as before,
and a powerlessness of even reading an ordinary book
requiring  the slightest continued attention,  inaptitude
for  the duties of life, listlessness." 
MORBID  FEAR.
  In all times and in all nations bravery in man has
been esteemed, cowardice contemned.  There is a wide-
spread opinion that in  modern life personal valor has
diminished.  Some say it is  owing to long periods of
peace, others to our modes of warfare, which, while not
less  destructive than formerly, do not lead to personal
encounters.
  Certain it  is that morbid and  groundless  fears are a
common mental  trouble  of  very many persons.   The
dread of something or  other—often they hardly know
what—haunts them. The sense of impending  misfor-
tune makes them miserable.  It may be something quite
absurd, or something very possible of occurrence—some-
thing as unlikely as  to be struck by lightning, something
as inevitable as natural death—the dread is the same.
  Nor  is  this mental  trouble  confined to  feeble and
naturally  timid persons.   Not unfrequently it seizes and
overmasters  those  heretofore of  determined character
and undaunted  hearts.   It is  then indicative of some
physical or mental disorder which is present or impend-
ing.  Often  it is associated  with dyspepsia, often with
heart-disease, not rarely with nervous exhaustion from
over-work or loss of sleep.
  Occasionally it assumes,  even in strong  minds, ab-
surd, ludicrous, and superstitious forms.  A New York
                          93 
94            Common Mind-Troubles.
 merchant, who was accustomed to walk down Broadway
 every morning for years, always crossed  the  street to
 avoid a certain stone flagging;  he could not summon
 up courage to walk over it, on  account of an indefinable
 terror which he could not account for.  Dr. Johnson was
 afraid to enter a house unless he placed his left foot first
 on the sill; not out of superstition so much as a fear
 which he could not explain.  Instances are not uncom-
 mon where people go to visit a  doctor about their health,
 and, having  reached  the office door, are afraid to ring
 the bell.  Active business men,  who  have been accus-
 tomed  to decide  on  important  affairs and take bold
 ventures, become timorous and  anxious about trifles.
   These groundless terrors usually take some particular
 form, and while  the  sufferer may be intellectually con-
 scious that they are without foundation, they, in spite of
 that, have such a hold upon  his  imagination that they
 distress and unman him beyondwhat one would suppose.
 A medical writer, Dr. Beard, has had the curiosity to
 collect and classify these various fears that attack persons
 who cannot  be said to  suffer from any distinct mental
 malady.   One common form is the fear of lightning, or
 rather of thunder-storms.  Persons not unfrequently are
 so appalled by the strife of the elements in these restora-
 tions of the  atmospheric equilibrium, that they close the
 doors and windows, darken the rooms, wrap their heads in
 shawls, and in other ways try to shut out all knowledge
 of the sights and sounds which, to them, are clothed in
such terrific  forms.   Yet many  of these persons are 
Morbid Fear.
95
highly intelligent, and, indeed, undoubtedly brave.  We
know an  artillery officer who has on various occasions
commanded a battery with credit, in the heat of action,
but who always gives up when a thunder-storm comes,
and wraps his  head  in a blanket to escape the feelings
of dread it inspires.
  Another fear is that of certain places. We  have men-
tioned above a New York merchant  who dreaded to
pass over a certain piece of pavement.  A German phy-
sician  describes a fear of  traversing  open  squares or
places;  other sufferers cannot enter crowded assemblies;
others, like " the man  of the  crowd,"  whom Edgar A.
Poe describes in such thrilling language, have a no less
horror of being alone;  they must have some one con-
stantly with them, although they have no occasion what-
ever for their services.   It is not unusual to find persons
with  a great dread of doing  some  particular  thing,
though nowise timid  in  other matters when  they
acknowledge that tLo  danger is as great or greater.
Thus one man cannot prevail on himself to ride a horse,
while he does not hesitate to  sail a frail skiff in  rough
water.  In another case it will  be  reversed, and in
neither does the personal history of  the individual  jus-
tify the fear.
  Hardly any weakness is  more common than to  find
persons unwilling to look out of a high window or over
a precipice, no  matter how firm a railing there may be.
They are afraid—not  of falling, but—of jumping off; 
96
Common Mind-Troubles.
there is a temptation to them in the sight down the steep
side, and they fear they will yield to it.  ~~
  Occasionally  this  fear of places takes  the annoying
form of a  dread of going to  a place where it  is quite
necessary to go; or of talking of a topic which  it is
vitally important should  be  discussed;  or of seeing
some individual whom it  is almost imperative must be
seen.   Examples of all these are, in fact, numerous in
our great cities, where men of nervous temperaments are
severely  worked and over-driven; and among women
whose constitutions are not sufficiently strong to bear up
under their physical and social burdens.
  We  knew a promising young merchant, recently mar-
ried, and with pleasant domestic and prosperous business
surroundings, who conceived  a dread of his counting-
house,  and a horror  of  discussing  the  details of his
calling.  He lived in Philadelphia, and when in Boston
would  be cheerful, and in apparent  health, until some
one would begin to ask about his business.  He would
then, at once,  become nervous,  timid, and  frightened,
and soon show such  evident marks of distress as to leave
room for injurious suspicions.  """
  Some  persons are constantly  worried  with  the fear
that they are in  danger of  catching a  disease, or of
falling sick ; others,  most illogically, have a great part of
their lives made wretched by  the fear of death ; others,
again,  profess that they  do not  fear death, but have  a
terrible dread of " in  that sleep of death what dreams
may come," which,  indeed, according to the words of 
Morbid Fear.                 97
Hamlet, is the consideration that makes so many prefer
the ills they have to a voluntary self-slaughter.
  All these, and  many similar forms  of  morbid  fear
may be consistent with a sound intellect and  apparently
—often really—physical  constitution.  They are signs
of emotional ill health, not of intellectual unsoundness.
They may come on one suddenly, last but a short time,
disappear as abruptly, or they may be lifelong torments.
They may be wholly dispelled by an effort  of the will
and the  power  of reason ;  they may be dispersed, and,
as  it were, cured,  by  medical  measures  and  hygienic
observances;  or they  may resist these and all other
means.
   In fighting them it  is well  first to consider whether
they have a physical basis. Does the sufferer also com-
plain of dyspepsia, over-work, general debility, latent
gout, nervous  exhaustion, or similar depressing mala-
dies ?  If so, his first duty is to make a clean breast of
his  mental symptoms  to  some intelligent and  sympa-
thetic medical adviser, and have these shortcomings of
the body  properly attended to.  Often  this course alone
is all-sufficient to drive away  these harpies of fear that
infest the day and make the night a terror.
   When  this is done, or where it is needless to do it,
the power of the Will, the strength of Reason, must be
summoned to the aid.   Much, very much, can be done
by a man who  is determined  to  conquer  his  fears.
Many a  man  enters a battle  quaking with terror, but 
98             Common  Mind-Troubles.
determined  not to let it get the mastery of him, and it
does not.
   There is  a  golden  phrase of Henry Thoreau's which
is worth impressing on every mind, in connection with
this subject.   It is this : " The only thing to be feared is
Fear."   Let that be  always present  to the mind.   No
matter what may  happen, if we do  not  fear it, all its
terrors are gone.   And  here is a sentence from Carlyle
which has the ring of sterling metal  to  it:  " The first
duty of a man is still that of subduing Fear.  He must
get rid of Fear.  We  cannot  act  at all till then.  A
man's  acts are slavish, his  very thoughts are false, he
thinks as a  slave and a coward till  he  have got Fear
under  his feet.' The completeness of his victory over
Fear will determine how much of a man he is."
   How is he  to gain the victory ?  What strong hand
is there  to  support him in his battle with this  dread
giant,  who, as in  the  days of the  pilgrim  Christian,
still lurks by  the wayside, ready to seize and bolt in the
dungeon of his castle the weak and unprotected ?   There
is none other  more effective, none so  real, none so ever-
present as there was then.   In  the  words of  Carlyle
again, let the man  plagued with morbid fears accustom
himself " to trust imperturbably in the appointment and
the choice of the upper Powers."   Nothing is more con-
soling, nothing more certain to relieve him, than this. 
    " CREATURES  OF   CIRCUM-
                   STANCE."

  There is a humiliating, though apologetic view of
human  nature and  life, which regards men and women
as  " creatures  of  circumstance."   Every  philosophy
must recognize that both mind and body are influenced
in a remarkable degree by their surroundings, and that
the  conditions of growth determine, or at least largely
qualify, their development; but this is far short of say-
ing that man is  not  only by  accident, but by design,
simply what the influences at work around him, aud the
forces that operate on his physical and mental organism,
combine to make him.   The hypothesis crude Material-
ism propounds, represents  mankind as  constituted  of
lumps of clay cast into the midst of a scene where every-
thing—except the plastic being man—is hard and exer-
cises a moulding  power over  character,  while human
nature alone is passive and impressible.
  There is  always  value in a  doctrine  or view of life
which has survived  the test of ages, and there can be no
question but that there is truth in the dogma of Materi-
alism.   Let us see what the measure of that  truth really
is.  We know that  as to his physical nature man is, .n
fact and experience, largely influenced by the  food  he
eats, the air  he breathes, and the conditions  which com-
pel  the  development  of certain parts of his organism,
                        99
l 
100            Common Mind-Troubles.
 while they allow others to lie dormant.  The savage, who
 lives principally on the game he hunts, will  be essenti-
 ally  animal in his type, and, while those powers and
 faculties which are called into action by his pursuits are
 vigorous, others, not  so immediately useful, will  be ne-
 glected.   The like is true  of the  dweller in cities, who
 has his food brought to him, and in whose dietary gross
 substances  are to some extent replaced  by more refined
 and  less auimalizing  elements of  nutrition;  he  can
 scarcely vie with the savage in quickness of eye or fleet-
 ness  of foot, but  he surpasses him  in powers better
 adapted to the needs  of civilized life and a higher men-
 tal development.  The brain is just as amenable to the
 laws of  development as any other part of the body, and
 the character is, in large  measure,  the outcome or moral
 reflex of the brain.
   Again, the whole being of man is influenced by the
 associations amid  which  he is  placed; the sounds, the
 sights around him, are factors in his  personal develop-
 ment.  The type of humanity  found on  the sea  coast
 differs from that  encountered  in  inland  districts, and
 every characteristic form of locale produces  its special
 results.   Not only does the habit of life affect the organ-
 ism, but  the  impression  wrought  continuously by ex-
 ternal objects exerts a controlling formative influence by
 directing the  thoughts into  certain channels and, so to
 say, making grooves  for, and giving certain turns and      4
twists to, tlie mind.  It is easy to see how widely differ-
ent the sympathies and  emotional nature must be in the 
Creatures  of Circumstance."         101
case of a being brought up  amid the wild associations
of a boisterous clime, and in that of one bred under the
silent, suasive influences of a scene seldom disturbed by
the stronger forces of the physical world, and therefore
presenting only its milder and more  genial phenomena.
   Peculiarities of development wrought by the opera-
tion of external  circumstances  on individuals may be
reproduced by inheritance in their offspring, and in this
way what were at first personal  traits come to be family
and even national and  racial characteristics.   These, in
process of years, are modified by surrounding  influences,
changes of scene, and  contact  or mingling with other
types of character, so that at length  stock features of
development in body and mind  are blended or confused,
and it is difficult, if not impossible, to trace  them back
to their several original sources.  Thus far we see men
and women may  be, and in truth  are,  " creatures of cir-
cumstance."
   The student of nature finds, as  he traces the develop-
ment of body and  brain, in the animal kingdom, in-
creased perfection of special  organs, side by  side with
the  appearance,  or  improvement, of certain faculties.
For example, as the eye, the ear, the nose, and the
tongue and palate and more constantly and perfectly de-
veloped, the special senses are found to  be  present in
higher form.  In  the  same  way, though  not quite so
directly, the  development of  certain portions  of the
brain  is parallel with the exhibition  of faculties which
constitute  the phenomena of  mind.   The observer  is 
 102            Common Mind-Troubles.

 fully justified in reasoning by induction, and  assuming
 the connection of the physical and mental facts as cause
 and effect; but he is not justified in pretending to be
 able to decide which are the causes and which the effects.
 No law is more clearly embodied in nature than that
 which makes the development  of an organ dependent
 upon its use.
   Well-meaning  but  short-sighted  persons have gone
 astray and done mischief by rejecting the teachings  of
 Darwin.   The doctrine of Evolution finally disposes of
 the fundamental dogma of the  materialistic philosophy
 by showing that no organ continues to be developed
 when it has ceased to be used, and none is wanting when
 there is a need  for it.   The blacksmith develops  the
 muscles of his arm by  use in his trade.  The spur  of
 the cock has dwindled down to the mere rudiment of an
 organ of defence since the animal  has been domesticated.
 The history of life and  organisms shows beyond  ques-
 tion that the lower animals have  in a very marked  de-
 gree been, in  this way,  creatures of circumstance, losing
 what they did not require, and developing organs adapted
 to their special needs.   The simple reasoning of analogy
 explains that what has happened with the body has hap-
 pened with the brain.   Man has received a highly-de-
 veloped brain because he has also received a  mind to use
 it.  Brain  has been suddenly developed to  a high de-
 gree of perfection, for  the service of mind, instead of
mind  being nothing more than the outcome of  brain.
If the latter  were the  fact, the chain  of development 
" Creatures of Circumstance?'         103
would have been perfect; as it is, scientists search in vain
for the " missing link."  Spirit and mind have appeared
suddenly.
   If  mind were the  mere outcome of matter  in the
form of brain, every one with a large and healthy head-
piece should be intellectual.  The children of well-disci-
plined and virtuous parents ought to be  docile  and vir-
tuous ; unless compelling circumstances made them other-
wise,  and  even then   the  hereditary  leaning to virtue
would be evident.  We know this is  not the  fact, and
the conviction is  forced upon us that brain is not the
essence  of mind, but  only its agent.    Meanwhile the
mind has  no  other instrument of expression  than the
brain; so that, even if a man with a small or imperfect
brain happens to have a  large and powerful  mind, he
cannot show himself the possessor of an  intellect in ex-
cess of his brain-power.  The study of cases of  idiocy
throws much interesting light on this subject. It is found
by experts in the treatment of this most pitiable class of
human creatures that by discovering an avenue to the mind
the intellect may be educated; in process  of  time, the
results obtained in  the way of enlightment  are very re-
markable.  The instrument existed, but the power be-
hind, which should have brought  it into  action, was
dormant.
   Science  has  nothing to teach  which  should tend to
unsettle the faith of any man in  the belief  that there is
a  soul or  a mind—call it what we please—behind the
veil of the flesh, and to which the physical  and  mental 
104            Common  Mind-Troubles.
faculties of humanity are the means of expression  and
intercourse with the outer world.   The more perfect the
instrument, the  wider its compass,  the  better its tone,
the higher in point of excellence will  be the function it
performs; but neither the range  of  the performance nor
its character can be a certain measure of the  power be-
hind ;  the defects observed  may be either the fault of
the instrument or the deficiency of the moving energy.
   We are " creatures of circumstance" up to a certain
limit, and circumstances  exert a powerful influence on
both our  bodies and minds;  but this fact neither explains
nor excuses the faults of individual character—still less
does  it lessen  the weight  of  personal  responsibility.
Those who seek refuge from  an accusing conscience—
reproachful for neglect—in this  hypothesis, are looking
for protection where none can be found. It is the bounden
duty of man to emancipate his being from the thraldom
of surrounding influences.   It is fortunate when  these
are good; but no merit can then arise from the effect  they
produce on his  character.  The noble part to  play is  to
 " get the better of circumstance " and triumph over de-
pressing  and distracting forces  which  war against the
interests  of the  soul.
   The infinitely humiliating figment  that man's nature
is wholly plastic is one which  should be  repudiated by
the instinct of  self-respect.  We know and feel in our
inner  consciousness that we can buffet the waves, and
struggle  long and valiantly for  life, even if we cannot
reach the shore.  Much  mischief has been wrought on 
" Creatures of Circumstance."        105
weak minds by the craven plea that man is the creature
of circumstances.  It is time to fling that sinister aphor-
ism to  the winds, and replace it by one of bolder and
more pregnant  import.   Man  is  the  master  of cir-
cumstances.   Those he has not himself created he can
subjugate, and employ as means  to his own noble and
honest ends. 
 
PART  II.
THE  SECRET
CLEAR   HEAD
107 
 
TEMPERATURE.
   Such expressions as a " cool head," as " hot-headed,"
and the like, commonly relate to temperament rather
than temperature;  but it is essential to a full  compre-
hension of the subject before us  that  the rationale  of
animal heat should be stated, and  the  laws that govern
the phenomenon  of temperature, actual and subjective,
at least cursorily, explained.
   Heat and the sensation of heat are two widely differ-
ent states.   When, on a chilly day or after washing in
cold water, a man rubs  his hands until a glow of heat
seems to suffuse them, there is a very slight rise of actual
temperature caused by the friction; the feeling is princi-
pally due  to  nerve-excitement, produced mechanically
by the rubbing.  The blood flows more freely into, and
through, the parts excited immediately afterwards, as
shown by the redness, but the first impression of heat is
mainly one of sensation.   The feeling and the fact are
not even constantly related.   A person may  feel hot
when not only the surrounding temperature but that  of
his body is low;  or, he may feel  cold when really over-
heated.   These  perverted sensations  are  occasionally
morbid—that is to say, form part of  a state  of disease
—or they may arise from individual peculiarities which,
perhaps, render perceptions of a particular class especi-
ally acute.   On the other hand, there  are conditions  of
                         109 
110
The  Secret of a Clear  Head.
body, and special sensibilities, in which the sense of heat
is dulled, and even considerable elevations of tempera-
ture are not perceived.   It is easy to see how impossi-
ble it must be to form a correct judgment of the actual
state of heat, either around or within us, by simple sen-
sation.
   The animal  body makes its  own  heat, and is  so  far
independent that, if it can  be protected  from the cooling
or heating influences of the outer world, it will maintain
an  equal and  healthful  temperature.   The  source  of
heat is food, which, in the subtle processes of the  living
organism, acts as fuel and undergoes oxidation or " com-
bustion."  In the absence  of sufficient  or suitable food,
or—what is the same thing in  effect—when, from any
cause, the normal functions of digestion and assimilation
are impaired,  the  body  is not properly heated  from
within,  and the subject feels cold.  A great deal has
been written about the most suitable food for heat-pro-
ducing purposes.  No doubt it is true that substances in
which  the fatty elements preponderate have  a special
tendency to  generate heat, but  in  experience and fact,
food that nourishes the body also warms it.
  The heating  process is not,  as  was  once supposed,
worked out by any special organ.   Neither the  lungs
nor the liver forms the focus of combustion; the work is
done in detail all over the body, and not in a special
centre.  The blood that courses through  the vessels is
not merely a  "heat-carrier,"  but a  heat-producer.  It
holds in  solution the elements  of food  taken  up  from 
Temperature.
Ill
 the digestive organs, prepared for use, and destined  to
 serve as material, to supply the demand  created by the
 consumption of tissue in the vital functions of the body.
 Each tissue selects from the blood brought into contact
 with  it, by the wondrous network  of capillary vessels,
 the particular elements  it requires.   In a rough sort of
 way, this process of nutrition may be illustrated by  say-
 ing that it is carried on much as  the process  of growth
 in a plant  is performed by the selective  and appropri-
 ative power of the rootlets which strike into the soil, or,
 in the case of water-plants, lie  submerged in  the fluid;
 what is needed  is absorbed and assimilated, the rest  is
 allowed to  pass.  In the course of this chemico-vital  pro-
 ceeding  new combinations of  material take  place  and
 heat is generated.
   If the quantity of material appropriated is in excess of
 the systemic requirements or the nutrition of any part of
 the body is carried on too hurriedly—perhaps because  it
 has been previously exhausted  by over-work,  or starved
 —an excess of heat  may be set  up either throughout the
 body as a whole, in which case there is  fever,  or in  a
 part of the organism, producing what is  called  inflam-
 mation.   Disturbance of  nutrition,  destroying  the  re-
 lations of health, whether caused by " chill," mechanical
 injury, or poison, either  organic or inorganic, may cause
 a condition  of disease to be established, but when that
 exists, however  caused,  the phenomenon  of  increased
temperature is the immediate effect of disorderly nutri-
tion.  When from any cause nutrition fails, or is defect- 
112         The Secret of a Clear Head.
ive, an opposite, but not less abnormal state—deficiency
of heat—results;  the chemico-vital processes are not
carried on in their integrity, and the temperature of the
body is lowered, as  in starvation.
  Throughout  the  world, whether man be placed in
tropical heat or arctic cold, the  temperature of his body
must, to  maintain  health, be preserved  at  the same
point—about 98*4 to "6 degrees of Fahrenheit.   A very
small departure  from this universal  mean standard con-
stitutes or indicates  disease.  The external heat is  com-
paratively unimportant, or only of  secondary moment,
in the economy of nature; we  cannot rely upon it  for
the compensation of  differences in  the  heat generated
within the body by the organism.   Except  for the pro-
duction of a temporary effect, such as to give time  for
the re-establishment  of  the normal temperature in a
body  chilled, as  by submersion, external heat  is useless
for vital purposes.  The  only way in which it can act is
by preventing the loss of more heat, and giving  a slight
aid to recovery by warming the surface of the body.
  If  when a person is cold he goes into a heated apart-
ment, or sits before a large fire, he receives with advan-
tage just  as much  heat  as will  bring the skin of his
body  up to  the normal standard;  as soon as that  point
is reached, the organism  will begin  to labor to  get  rid
of the superfluous  caloric, and by sweating the heat
must  be kept from  rising above the standard.   All the
heat thrust upon the body above 986 degs. is waste and
mischievous except in so far as it may promote perspira- 
Temperature.                113
tion, which probably helps to work off some of the use-
less and burdensome,  possibly  morbid and poisonous,
materials that oppress the system.   This is how Turkish
baths, and " sweatings " generally, do good, by exciting
increased activity of the skin, and as it  were, opening
up new ways of egress for matters which, if retained,
might offend.  -
   So far as the heat of the body is concerned, whether
in health or disease, every degree of external heat which
is above the complement to form 986 degs. Fahr. with
the heat of the body  itself at  the time,  is useless and
may do harm.   It follows that in fever the surrounding
atmosphere should be  kept cool; in depressing disease,
when the heat-producing  powers of the  organism  are
small, the air  around  should be warm.  These are pre-
cisely the conclusions to which experience and observa-
tion conduct us; and the facts now briefly stated  explain
the reason why.
   There is no warmth in clothes; the heat comes from
the body itself, generated within, or the surrounding at-
mosphere, or from substances with which  the body may
be in contact.   Of course  clothes, like  any other  mate-
rials,  can be charged  with heat, and  will  take up  as
much thermic or  heating  property as their specific ca-
pacity allows.   It  is J,his  capability  of receiving heat
which constitutes  the  first condition of warmth in the
comparative value of different materials of dress.  The
second condition consists in the physical  power of any
fabric to hold the  heat with which  the article has been 
114         The Secret of a Clear Head.
charged.   For  example, some  materials  will  become
warmer  in a given time and  retain their heat longer
than others under the same conditions of exposure, first
to heating and then to cooling  influences.   The princi-
ple of clothing should be to protect the body from ex-
ternal conditions which tend to abstract heat, when the
surrounding temperature is lower than that of the body;
and to strike heat into the organism, when the tempera-
ture of the outside air and  of the substances with whioh
the skin  may be brought  into contract  is higher than
that of the animal body itself.
   The absorption of heat is determined by the degree
in which the body is colder than the surrounding tem-
perature.   As we have said, no more external  heat  is
wanted by the organism than will suffice to bring  it up
to 98'4 or *6° Fahr., and even  this aid may readily be
dispensed with if there be no abstraction or loss  of heat
from  within.  Practically therefore we  do not need to
absorb heat, and, in a temperate though changeful cli-
mate, are more deeply interested in keeping the heat we
make in winter, and defending ourselves from the access
of heat from without in summer by moderate measures,
than  in  devising precautions against  either extreme.
Nature attaches more importance to internal heat that to
variations of external temperature.   She has given the
inhabitants of the Torrid Zone dark skins because these
are better for the radiation of heat than  white, although
the dark  color absorbs more rapidly than  the  lighter.
On the other hand, she  has given  the  denizen of the 
Temperature.                 \ \ 5
   Frigid Zone a pale skin, and  clothed  the Polar  bear
   with a white fur because white  does  not  so  freely part
   with the heat it holds or covers, as black.
     Radiation of heat takes place when the surroundings
   are cool, and, if  the  radiating body be a  living animal
   organism, the aim must be to prevent too rapid disper-
   sion.   This points to the choice of materials and colors
   for clothing which hold the heat in winter, and of those
1  which, so  to say, resist  it in summer.  Reflection is  in
   practice a  part of radiation, except  that  the reflecting
   body may, in theory at least, be impervious to the  heat
   it throws off from its surface, while that which, more
   strictly speaking, radiates must first have become charged
   with caloric.  Evaporation is the great cooling process
   by which perspiration  reduces the temperature  of the
   body.  When Nature covers the body with fluid the
   physical effect intended is the same which we produce arti-
   ficially by  sprinkling  the  surface of any object with
   water.  In  the act  of  passing off as vapor, the fluid
   takes away heat and  thus cools the skin.
     This is, in some measure, how sweating reduces the
   heat of the body in fever, and, in the absence of  a con-
   tinuous cause of  mischief or when  the poison has done
   its  baneful  work  and become exhausted, gives  relief.
   The ancients used to  think more of "critical sweating"
   than modern physicians do;  but it cannot be doubted
   that when a disease—of which excessive heat-productiou
   is a feature—runs its course naturally, copious perspira-
   tion commonly occurs at the crisis, and the evaporation 
116         The Secret of a  Clear Head.
that follows helps to reduce the temperature.  There
are of course natural  methods by which the heat of the
body may be  reduced.  For example, discharges of all
kinds will carry off heat; but those from within gener-
ally take place when some large internal organ has been
the seat  of  an accumulation of  heating  material which
the system has been  unable to take up.  For slighter
ailments of  the febrile order, surface-evaporation is gen-
erally preferred by Nature, and is commonly found to
suffice.
   Local  temperature, that  is,  the  heat in the several
regions of the body,  is determined  by conditions which
control the circulation of the blood, and the function of
nutrition or food  appropriation.  If the circulation is
free in  a part, its temperature  is maintained ; if, from
any cause, the flow of blood is  retarded, the  local  heat
will be reduced.   Any one  may put this to the test by
encasing the hands in somewhat tight gloves when  the
weather is cold.   The pressure prevents the free passage
of the blood  through the vessels, and  the temperature
falls.  There  is no warmth  of any  kind in the gloves;
they act simply as non-conductors of heat, and prevent
the  heat generated within  the  body from  passing  off.
For example—if a piece of lint or rag be dipped in cold
water and laid on the skin, and a sheet of impervious or
non-conducting material, such as india-rubber or thick
flannel, is wrapped closely round, the heat of the body
will raise the cold water  to a temperature at which it
will be  given off as steam, the moment the covering is 
Temperature.                 117
removed.  When the extremities are enclosed in thick
or dense coverings, their temperature will depend on the
amount of heat generated within them, and  if the flow
of  blood through the vessels is arrested or  retarded,
nothing  is gained, but everything lost, by the  measures
taken to protect them from the external cold.
   This is a matter of the highest practical moment, and
needs to be thoroughly understood.   The feet cannot be
kept  warm  unless the blood circulates freely  in  the
extremities, and that will  not be the case if the boot,
shoes, or stockings are tight.  These last-named articles
of  clothing  are practically the worst offenders.   A
stocking encircling the foot and  leg closely, and envel-
oping  every  part, with special  pressure at  the  instep,
around the ankle, and  above or  below the knees, must
inevitably tend  to oppose the  circulation, and so reduce
the natural heat.  The arteries which bring the blood
to the extremity are set deeper than the veins that carry
it back, and, as  the  latter are provided  with valves
which open  towards the heart, it is too commonly sup-
posed that the " support" afforded  by the stocking will
favor the return of blood  more than  it can  impede the
deeper supply-currents, and so help  the circulation;  but
practically we  know  this  is  not the fact, for a tight
stocking insures a cold foot, and the chilliness of which
many persons complain is mainly caused by the practice
of  gartering, and wearing stockings which  constrict
somewhere or everywhere.
  There is a  popular notion that if the feet are cold the 
118         The Secret, of a  Clear Head.
head must be hot, and by keeping the extremities warm
with wraps, the " blood  is drawn from  the  head," and
its temperature  reduced.   Those who have on  the one
hand studied the phenomenon of fever, and on the other
noted the physical condition of races  and  individuals
who habitually leave the  extremities   unclothed, will
know that this theory of the distribution of heat is only
partially true.  Heat depends on  the  due supply of
nutrient elements  to  the  tissues.  It is the expression
or result of the process of  local feeding.  If a part is
active it will  be heated.   When  the feet are  left bare
the complex muscular apparatus of the extremity, which
in a stiff shoe  scarcely  works, is called into  vigorous
action, the arch of the foot plays with  every step, and
each toe performs its share in the  act of progression.
This promotes growth and calls for nutrition,  whereby
the heat is maintained;  whereas if  it be simply packed
away as a  useless piece of  organism,  no  amount of
external heat will warm  it.  Work is the cause and
counterpart of heat throughout the body.
   The same principle applies to the  head.   No amount
of  external cooling  will reduce  the temperature;  no
drawing away of the blood by artificial expedients will
permanently relieve the sense or obviate  the fact of heat,
if the organ within the cranium is  excessively  or mor-
bidly active.   The  brain is  a  peculiarly delicate and
complicated organ, requiring more prompt and  constant
nutrition than any other part of the body, because the
constituent elements  of its tissue change  more rapidly 
Temperature.
119
than those of any other in proportion to the amount of
exercise.  Moreover, the brain is always acting during
consciousness, and even  in  sleep it is seldom wholly at
rest, as  we know from the occurrence of dreams.   The
faculty  of nutrition is highly developed in the organ, or
it could not so continuously, and on the whole healthily,
discharge its functions,  even  when  other  parts of the
body, or  the system as  a  whole, are suffering  from
disease.   When the head is  heated there is nearly always
a local cause for  it, and  the remedy  must  be addressed
to the seat of the malady.   The temporary expedient of
"drawing away  the  blood"  by applying  heat to the
extremities is useful as far as it goes,  and may suffice to
enable the organ to  rid  itself by the contraction of its
blood-vessels from a surplus charge of this fluid, but in
the absence  of special causes the reason  of the " heat of
head " is  undue exercise or  disturbance of  nutrition  in
the brain itself.   Perhaps the  seat of the over-work and
consequent heating may have been limited to a particular
part of  the  head ; for example, the apparatus of sight,
or hearing, as when the head becomes heated by reading
too long or  in a strong light.   The point to understand
is that when the head is  physically hot it is the seat of
too much or disorderly nutrition, and either the amount
of brain or sense-power  exercised must be reduced  or
the mode of action changed, and the particular part of
the apparatus of perception  or thought  which has  been
too severely taxed relieved.
  From these  general  observations—recapitulating a 
120         The Secret of a  Clear Head.
 few only of  the  more notable facts  in  relation to heat
 and heat production—we may draw the following con-
 clusions :  First, the heat of  the  body depends on  its
 own condition and functions rather than on the tempera-
 ture of the objects by which it is surrounded.  There is
 a wonderful power of self-preservation and adaptation
 to external needs provided  in the constitution of man,
 and his chief aim should be to aid instead of hindering
 the exercise of this beneficent faculty.  Second, external
 temperature ought to be treated rather as an enemy than
 a friend ; and the body should be  so trained as to resist
 its variations.  If we rely on the aid of the heat without
 to help the  heat within, we  must expect to be chilly
 when the weather is cold, and responsive to all its varia-
 tions.   The  body which seems out of health in cold
 weather is essentially unhealthy:  it  is deficient in the
 power of  heat-generation, and unless it can  be shown
 that some  accidental waste  is  going on which depresses
 the vital powers, and  so accounts  for this weakness of
 function, it  may be assumed  that either  the heart  is
 feeble or diseased, the  blood-vessels are out of condition,
 or there is a defect somewhere  in the apparatus of nutri-
 tion.  The true condition of health is that in which the
 temperature of the body as  a  whole and  of its several
 parts is not disturbed  by surroundings either of heat or
 cold.   Third, the preservation  of a natural and healthy
 temperature is  mainly  to  be secured by the maintenance
 of a regular and well-distributed  circulation of blood
charged with the  materials of nutrition. 
Temperature.
121
  The first condition of a free and continuous flow of
blood is a healthy heart, not hampered by  irritants,
mental  or  physical.   Sudden grief or fright produces
cold by arresting  the circulation, and the flow may be
permanently  retarded by anxiety.  The mind has  a
wondrously direct influence  on  the heart and blood-
vessels—on the latter through the nerves,  which increase
or reduce the calibre of the minute arteries, as in blush-
ing or blanching at a thought.  Instead  of loading the
body with  clothes, the "chilly"  should  search out the
physical cause of  their coldness.   The blood must not
only circulate  freely;  it must be rich in nourishing ma-
terials, and not charged with poison.  An excess of any
one element may destroy the value of the whole.   It is
too much  the  habit  of  valetudinarians  and  unhealthy
people of all kinds, to charge the  blood with substances
supposed to be " heating " or  " cooling" as they think
the system requires  them.   This is  a  mistake.   The
body does not  need to be  pampered with cordials, or re-
frigerated with cunningly devised potions.  If it is well
nourished it will be healthy. 
HABIT.
   It is surprising to find, on close scrutiny, how large a
proportion of the acts we perform, seemingly at the bid-
ding and under the  control of the will, are in truth per-
formed unconsciously.   Walking, running, leaping, lift-
ing and carrying burdens—in fact, most  of  the actions
in which the muscular system is engaged—are accom-
plished without  the cognizance of  details.   The end
only is perceived; the will is engrossed with the result,
and  ignores the steps by which it  is reached.  We set
out to walk on a particular road to a certain place;  the
feet  and legs are set in  motion and we continue walk-
ing,  while the whole attention  is absorbed with matters
of thought, no concern being bestowed on the  manage-
ment of the limbs unless unusual or unexpected sensa-
tions attract the notice of the mind.   We carry a book
or a parcel, and  hold it, though its  possession may  be
forgotten.  In  short, there is a power of setting a part
of the organism to do certain work and leaving the task
to be carried out by a subordinate faculty of  superin-
tendence, which discharges its function  unconsciously.
   Take as an illustration one of the  commonest actions
performed  by most of  us once or twice daily—that of
lifting the  water-jug from a washing-stand.   We will to
pour out some water, and expect  to  find  it in  the jug.
The  muscular  movements  requisite for grasping the
                          122 
Habit.                   123
handle of the vessel and raising it are  performed auto-
matically, and the proper amount  of force is put out to
raise the weight of water we are accustomed to find.   It
happens that the servant  has  neglected to fill the jug,
and up it goes with a  bound.  Again, we are walking
upstairs, habit leads us  to expect another step at the top;
the leg is raised, and comes down with  a jerk  because
the anticipated stair is not there to receive the foot; or
perhaps we  are coming  down, and the  foot  is arrested
by the level floor  when we  expected  a  further descent.
These are common experiences, but they possess  a high
significance, and may stand for typical examples  of a
large  group of actions which are  performed  uncon-
sciously.  The sort of unconsciousness which  character-
izes these acts is  made evident by  the  nature  of the
misadventures which have been instanced.
   When anything is done for the first time, it requires
to be worked out by the will, each step  of the perform-
ance is intentional; as when a child learns to walk, or a
pianoforte player  to strike  the proper notes with  the
right fingers in the due  relations of time by appropriate
muscular movements of hand and wrist.  When once
the combination  of acts is mastered, the will  no  longer
superintends the exercise.   The  attention is not only
withdrawn,  but it  must  be diverted, or, in other words,
the performance left to the supervision  of the subordi-
nate faculty.  Let any one who doubts  this try to exe-
cute in  detail, under the superintendence of the will,
movements which  are perfectly well done without con- 
124         The Secret of a  Clear  Head.
sciousness; for example, to descend a  flight of stairs
rather rapidly, particularly noticing the planting of each
foot on the step below, or to  strike a few chords of
music with conscious control of the several  fingers em-
ployed.  The unwonted attention embarrasses the  per-
formance, and in certain cases even renders it  impossi-
ble.  The explanation of this experience is that the will
is wont to relegate the control of muscular movements
which are habitually performed  to  the guidance  of a
sense which, while it cannot originate, is able to  repeat
combinations of movements to which  it has been accus-
tomed ; and, having thus, so to say, delegated a portion
of  its authority—as the employer of a large number of
workers entrusts the management of details to some  con-
fidential  agent—the will  ceases  to trouble  itself with
these lesser matters, and they pass out of the sphere of
consciousness.
   In certain morbid states this  delegation is impossible,
and the muscular system will do nothing it  is not di-
rectly willed to perform.  Physiologists and pathologists
cite the case of a nurse who could not  hold  a child in
her arms unless  she kept  it constantly  in  mind.   The
moment her attention was diverted from the business in
hand her  arms  dropped,  and she let  the infant fall.
This instance will  suffice  to  illustrate  the  principle.
The conclusion is, briefly, that much that we  do is done
unconsciously—the actions which fall into this class  are,
for the most part, matters  of habit; and, in proportion 
Habit.
125
as things come to be subjects of habit, they are likely to
be done unconsciously.
   What  is habit?   The apologist for humanity in its
least noble phase asserts that  " habit is second nature."
It would be  more explicit  to say that  habit  is memory
supplemented by an unconscious reasoning on the simple
lines of a direct inference  from  the known  to  the un-
known.   I  use  the phrase "unconscious reasoning"
advisedly.  There are more than sufficient grounds  for
believing that a certain sort of reasoning  may  proceed
without  an appeal  to the judgment,  and without  the
cognizance of the  higher  intellect—in  short, without
consciousness.  While the  mind  is engrossed with one
subject, the lesser faculties may  be actively  employed
with another, and even work out  processes which, when
they come to be reviewed, appear  complex.  By  this
reasoning the sleep-walker adapts his proceedings to the
requirements of the surrounding circumstances, his brain
being all the  while asleep and he in a state of unconscious-
ness.   This sort of reasoning probably differs in no es-
sential particular from  the phenomenon of  "instinct"
with which  the animals below man in the scale of in-
telligence are gifted, and which sometimes seems in its
exercise  to emulate the power of reflection  and judg-
ment.
   An  unconscious  expectancy that circumstances  and
events will shape themselves on the  pattern of  some
previous experience would appear to  be the dominant
principle  of  habit.   Such an expectancy governs  the 
126         The Secret of a Clear  Head.
conduct and determines the amount and  kind of energy
put forth.  In the instance of the water-jug, the force
brought to bear on the vessel is that which has been found
by experience to be appropriate for lifting the expected
weight.  There is no conscious thought  about the mat-
ter; but the lesser  faculty of  reasoning—call it instinct
or what we may—argues from the past to the future.
  The proof that there is something more than memory
at work, and that a process of reasoning  takes place,
may be  found in the fact  that  while an empty jug is
raised with a jerk, a small jug is never lifted as  though
it were a large one by too much force  being applied,
although the jug that is raised may be smaller than the
one we are  accustomed to  lift.  The eye  informs  the
lesser faculty, and  the force put out is  just enough to
raise  the full jug.  It is only when the jug is empty
that the jerk  occurs.  In  both cases, however—when
the jug is smaller than usual as well as when it is empty
—the act of lifting is performed without thought, that
is, unconsciously.   Another illustration  will make this
clearer.  When a  man is walking  along  the road  en-
grossed in thought lie may trip in a shadow.  His atten-
tion is not directed to the appearance until after  the act
of stumbling; but, before that  took place, the  shadow
across his path had cheated the lesser faculty of instinct,
and induced the performance of exceptional movements,
which, not being really necessary, caused the fault.
  Habit in regard to the muscular system is a repetition
of acts previously performed, and ranging from grotesque 
Habit.                    127
and  meaningless contortions or grimaces to the uncon-
scious performance of well-ordered and even elaborately
conceived and intentional processes^ rthat  is,  processes
intended to produce a certain result, and so employed—
as when the worker proceeds  with his task, and even
performs  complex modifications  and  combinations  of
processes while his thoughts are far away, and the pro-
duct of his skill afterwards impresses  his aroused atten-
tion  with surprise.  For example, the turner with lathe
and  gouge,  forgetful  of his task, produces a  ball, and
turns it well, but instead of a socket!  He was thinking
of something else, and  labored on by habit.   Habit in
regard to the mind is of the same nature, and exposed
to the like vagaries.   For example, the accountant, with
mind busy on some topic of greater interest than that
before him,  adds instead  of subtracting, or  multiplies
in place of  dividing; and what  he does is well done,
though not  the thing  he intended  to do.  " His mind
was  wandering."  It had, in fact, strayed far away from
the scene and subject of his  task, which was performed
by a  lesser  faculty, perfectly well able  to  work out  a
process of reasoning based on experience but not capable
of originating the appropriate motive idea which  the
end in view required.
   It would save a world of trouble, and lead to the cor-
rection of a multitude of misconceptions, if this sort of
blunder could  be  understood, and the errors  of uncon-
scious reasoning eliminated.   Unfortunately  the diffi-
culty of bringing the facts plainly before the mind, and 
128         The  Secret of a Clear  Head.
making it conscious of its own  unconsciousness, is very
great.   The intellect will not admit that it is ever caught
napping, and it is unaware that  a large part of its func-
tions are discharged by deputy.   Nineteen persons out
of twenty will, for example, be  scandalized to hear that
they do not even spell consciously, although this fact is
brought home to them daily by the circumstance that in
order to be quite sure how to spell many a word, they
finfl it necessary  to write it.   The act of writing a  word
is performed automatically, like playing a chord  in
music, and it is only by going through the process  under
the control  of instinct, by "habit" instead of thought,
and looking at the result, that  they can attain  the cer-
tainty intentional judgment will not supply.
   A further proof of the truth of this hypothesis will be
furnished by the experiment of trying to spell the  word
in  writing  with  some unaccustomed instrument—for
example,  a type-writing  machine, or telegraph  appa-
ratus.   Persons who have been accounted good etymolo-
gists and practiced spellers  find, when they come  to
strike the alphabet keys  in rapid succession to spell a
word, that they are often at fault in the commonest  com-
bination.   This  experience is not universal, but  it is
widespread and significant.  The spelling  of words has
come to be performed  unconsciously, and when  the will
is required  to resume the  duty it  has delegated to the
subordinate faculty, it is found to be incompetent for  its
discharge without training afresh.  "
  As with the arrangement of letters  in words, so is it 
Habit.
129
with the composition of words to form sentences.  Those
who have  formed  the  "habit" of speaking extempo-
raneously can  seldom compose in  writing with  equal
facility,  and the converse.   Authors  and orators are
prone to repeat themselves; and men who have gone on
writing or speaking for many years have, in fact, stored
their mind with  phrases which instinct employs with a
rapidity and  method that does  duty for thought:  so
that, given a subject, writers and  speakers alike string
sentences together  with  scarcely any  exercise  of the
higher  intellectual faculties,  and  can  almost write in
their sleep.
   Instances have  been known, authenticated beyond
question, in which  writers have composed  articles, cohe-
rent and even  well written, while  in a state bordering
on mental unconsciousness, and certainly with the mini-
mum of mind-action on  the  work performed.   This
duality of the mental powers doubtless  differs greatly in
individuals.  Some  can  accomplish  little or nothing
without a  direct  and conscious effort of the will, while
others can do almost anything they are  in the habit of
doing without conscious endeavor.   To  be " a. practiced
hand"  at  anything, and to have  acquired by long and
frequent exercise a special facility for  performing any
act, whether physical or  mental, is, in short, to have
delegated  the performance to the faculty of instinct, or
lesser  intelligence  below  the will; and it is always a
scientific, and in most cases a practical, possibility that 
130         The Secret of a  Clear Head.
what is so done may,  under special  circumstances, be
done unconsciously.
  This last remark carries us straight to the conclusion
towards  which we  have  been working.   Unconscious
energy, or  habit controlled  by  instinct, will produce
results the most astounding, and account for the strangest
of  so-called spiritualistic or somnambulistic " manifesta-
tions."  It is not only unnecessary, but unscientific, to
assume that the perpetrators of many seeming " impos-
tures "—using that term with regard to the  nature of
the performance rather than  its intention—practice con-
scious deception.   Take  the case of a so-called  "me-
dium."   It  is  by no means  certain that  the act of
 " spirit writing " or " trance talking " is an  intentional
fraud.  It is comparatively easy to form any habit, and
one of speaking or writing without thinking is readily
attainable.
    The process by which this exploit is performed is that
which I have attempted  to describe—a delegation of
control to the subordinate faculty, so that  it may go on
without thought, and  at  length  without consciousness.
When such a habit is formed it is obviously practicable
for the  individual himself, or some other   person, to
distract or displace his  attention—even to send his mind
to  sleep—while  the lower faculty remains  awake and
performs simple processes of reasoning, displaying saga-
city, and  to a certain extent  employing or superseding
the senses.  This is the condition  of  the somnambulist,
and it is one which may,  in special cases, be induced at 
Habit.                    131
pleasure by the will of the subject  or another.   What
are called mesmeric passes, or any other mode of signi-
fying the wish  or diverting the mind, may be employed,
and, the consciousness  being taken off the lower  intelli-
gence, the latter will be left free to work.
   The scope of the instinctive or lesser faculty is, as we
have seen, limited  to recollection, or the simpler forms
of reasoning by inference; but by development in prac-
tice  this lesser intelligence is doubtless susceptible of
improvement and a seeming extension  of capacity.   The
process by which  mediums and  mesmeric subjects with
somnambulistic capabilities can be trained may be gath-
ered from what sometimes happens in the case of persons
addicted to  talking in  their sleep.  It  is not  unfre-
quently possible to engage the  sleep-talker, and, by
judiciously asking  questions, to carry on a conversation
without awakening him.  The result is the same, though
the  process is  reversed, when the medium or somnam-
bulist is sent to sleep while his lesser faculty of reasoning
is engaged in the business of a seance.
   A morbid or weak state of mind facilitates the  pro-
duction of the state described, and each exercise  renders
the diversion of consciousness and sleep-production more
easy.  The point on which I would  insist  is that the
actor is really unconscious, and possibly believes he  is
the  subject  of supernatural influences.   The  same  is
true  of the table-turner.  He is  unconscious  of the
physical force he exerts on the article  of furniture;  and
those who  act  with him, when once the movement be- 
132
The  Secret of a Clear  Head.
 gins, are thrown  into the same state, and unconsciously
 contribute their share of energy to the production of the
 result.   Unconscious mind-action and muscular move-
 ment are, in truth, very common; and these phenomena
 abundantly explain the  otherwise  startling and inex-
 plicable  effects ignorantly ascribed to influences which
 ao far as we are aware, have no existence.
    The moral—or rather  the common-sense inference—
 to  be drawn  from  these  considerations is  the warning
 that it is  unwise and  imprudent, in  the interests of a
 clear head, to push the  habit of doing things  uncon-
 sciously  beyond legitimate limits.  People are, as a rule,
 very apt to be proud of the character  of  experts, and
 take great credit for the attainment  of automatic dex-
 terity.  The pianist who can execute  the most compli-
 cated movements without false fingering, is proud of his
 achievement, although  he  may have little  or no real
 taste for music.   The  author who can  produce several
 works simultaneously, and turn out three-volume novels
 with  the  greatest  celerity,  is   congratulated  on  his
 capacity,  although half the work he does  is, in fact,
 mechanical.
   The world judges by results, and takes little account
 of ways of working and processes.  Thought is scarcely
 appreciated as an  ingredient of literary or artistic work.
 Whether  the product comes from the intellect or  the in-
stinct, whether  it has been evolved by mental labor or
produced  in great part unconsciously, is a matter of pro-
found  indifference to the  assessor of value, who deals 
Habit.                   133
only  with what  is  done,  and  disregards  the  doing.
Meanwhile, those who have  health  and vigor of mind
in view will  be prudent to  bestow  intentional thought
on what they do rather than rely on the lesser faculty
too extensively.
   A  very large  proportion  of the  energy put out by
man must be placed at the disposal of  the lower intelli-
gence, but the less the mind  is  allowed to wander from
the business in  hand, and the more constantly it is con-
tent to do one thing at a time, and that thoroughly, the
less will  the mind  and body  be left at the mercy of
"habit,"  the more will habit be under  control  of the
will, and  the less danger can there be of that develop-
ment of the duality of the  intellect, and alienation of
the higher reasoning faculty and consciousness from the
animal instinct, which is so apt to culminate in disease,
and to render the subject beside himself—a disorganized
brain-worker, a monomaniac. 
TIME.
   Nature sets the example of measuring time by days,
 months, and seasons; we only work out the division and
 subdivision  by telling  off  in  hours the period which
 composes a day and night, and counting the four seasons
 as a year.   The  method of time-keeping we adopt is
 arbitrary, though more exact, so far as the experience of
 time is concerned, than that of the great mistress; but it
 is under her guidance  and at her suggestion we have
 recourse to the expedient of marking the passage of
 time, which otherwise  would  speed  unheeded in its
 monotonous  progress.   The  investigations of  science
 would be impossible without a system of  time-measure-
 ment, the operations  of mind  would be  wild exercises
 and indefinite, and life itself must  sink to the level of
 bare existence, without  hope of the future, interest in
 the present, or accurate recollection of the past.  If the
 reckoning of time were lost, and with  it  the power of
 instituting a new record, life at home would be difficult,
 exploration impossible, chaos would resume the place of
 order, and so far as man was concerned, the world must
 fall back into the state described as " without form and
 void."
   Measuring time is a  faculty  developed by instinct,
though perfected and  applied by knowledge.  It  exists
in every savage race; even  those tribes which  lack  the
                          134 
Time.
135
power  of counting above very limited  numbers  have
that of noting the lapse, and in some way estimating the
progress of time.  It is not, however, with what  may
perhaps be called the  natural history of this subject, or
even its scientific aspect, that we are at the moment con-
cerned.   There is a great mental and moral phase of the
subject  of time-measuring, to  which attention may be
usefully directed.
   First, let us jot  down a few of the common but  curi-
ous experiences  which most  of us  have  in some form
encountered in the measuring of time.  How different is
the seeming rate of progress under divers  conditions and
amid dissimilar  circumstances,  or to opposite tempera-
ments under the like conditions and with the same sur-
roundings, or to the  same individual  mind  in various
moods!  These  differences are so  well recognized that it
is not worth while to dwell upon  them.   It must not be
forgotten  that the expression "progress  of  time" is
purely metaphorical,  and the discrepancy  between the
estimates formed of the ceaseless  advance, by independ-
ent observers  and  under  diverse  conditions, shows the
imperative need of a common measure by which to  com-
pare experiences.  Meanwhile it is interesting and use-
ful to seek the cause of these discrepancies.
   Searching to the root of the matter,  it would seem to
be this:  Time is like a chain—if we tell it off link by
link, it seems longer than if we only glide along it to the
end.  If the thought possesses us that every link is  an
obstacle or a stage  which has  to be passed before we can 
136         The  Secret of a Char Head.
reach the extremity the progress seems  slow; while, on
the other hand, if each link is  looked upon as a step
bringing us  nearer the goal, the seeming passage is
marked with great celerity.  The mind generally takes
its tone from the nature of the end in view.  If that be
longed  for, the process of  link-counting is wearisome,
and seems  slow; if the end  is dreaded, successive links
slip through the fingers with  lightning speed.
   This is a general statement of the rule, and  therefore
not without any apparent exceptions.   For example, no
one loves pain; nevertheless the time which passes imme-
diately before the performance of an expected operation
seems wondrously tardy.   The reason is that the object
on  which  the  mind has fixed  its attention is not the
suffering that  is to be endured, but the point beyond,
when ease  will be procured, or the ordeal will be over.
This explains  the difference  of feeling with which the
approach of death is regarded by persons with and with-
out hope of the future.  If there be a joyous anticipa-
tion of coming happiness, the thoughts are  fixed on the
bright future beyond, and the act of death becomes the
last stage of a journey it is earnestly desired to  com-
plete.   If  there  be  no hope, or, from any cause, death
assumes the aspect of  a penalty or overwhelming dis-
aster, it is the object of dread, and the time  that ushers
it in passes too rapidly.
  The precise mental process by which the passage of
time  is made to  seem slow  or fast maybe described
as one of concentration.  If the attention be directed to 
Time.
137
 details, and each  little incident of the way becomes the
 subject of special cognizance, time moves slowly; whereas
 if the end only is thought of, and the episodes of the
 interval are counted  as hindrances, they seem to  block
 the way and defer the realization of hope interminably.
 Another notable experience, the converse of that last de-
 scribed, is the difference between time past  and  time
 future—looking back and looking forward.  The expla-
 nation of this difference will be found in the facts already
 stated.  It is because the  mind, when glancing  behind,
 loses  sight of the daily procession of events, that the
 time  past  seems  short; whereas the future is  full of
 plans and purposes which attract the mind  to the  path, •
 and give the sense of distance.   If some particular object
 of hope—as the attainment of man's estate and  fancied
 freedom to  a youth—rivets the attention  aud diverts it
 from the road by  which it will have to be reached, then
 the desired object seems near. The impression is  in each
 case directly dependent on  the manner  in which  the
 mind  views the  object, and the experience is  wholly
 subjective.
   It may appear idle to speak  of the present, for while
 we think of it the fleeting moment passes.  Nevertheless,
 there are states of feeling in which time  drags  like  a
galling chain over the bruised  body, and  others when
the spirit bounds forward  so joyously that it takes no
thought of time, and  the winged hours pass unheeded.
These  opposite sensations  are determined  by the  condi-
tions explained  previously, and depend on  the feelings 
138         The Secret of a  Clear  Head.
with which the mind looks around or forward, and back
on the past, with the consciousness of being hurried on
or retarded in its progress.  In this sense there is a men-
tal  and physical cognizance of the  passing instant  of
time, and there is a present.  Now let us try to see what
these slight and suggestive, rather than elucidatory, con-
siderations  are worth  in the  practical  bearings of the
mind and consciousness towards life in its diverse forms
and moods, its grateful and untoward experiences.
   To make time go slowly, or seem  long when we look
back upon it, it must be well filled with incidents which
engross the attention and leave a record in legible marks
on  the memory.   Few lives are wholly colorless or de-
void of " experiences," but the least varied, if also they
are  objectless and  uninspired  by some engrossing pur-
pose, are the longest to look forward  upon, the  briefest
in retrospect.  The future lies before the mental vision as
a vista straight and  immeasurable, because unmeasured;
the trail behind  is like a track across the desert, trace-
able only for a short distance, and seemingly short.   By
marking the way with white  stones  the  path  may  be
made a pleasant  object to retrace in thought, and  the
more numerous  these records the  longer and better  de-
fined  it  will appear.    Black  and  mournful  remem-
brancers produce the same effect,  and give the  feeling
of having  lived  long  in the world; but, in  the  latter
case, the feeling produced is one of weariness, while, in
the other, a sense of maturity and  " experience "  may be
enjoyed which inspires happiness and a consciousness of 
Time.
139
 strength rather than  discontent and exhaustion.   In
 either event it is the  busy life that seems the longest,
 whether the business in hand be good or bad, useful or
 mischievous.
   The precept to be inferred from these premises is so
 plain that  it stands in little need of argument to enforce
 it.   Those who would have the sense of happy maturity
 to cheer them  in  their later years, when the conscious-
 ness of waning energy begins, must live with a purpose
 and worthily while life is  young and vigorous.  Noth-
 ing  so effectually prepares  the mind  for rest as  the
 knowledge of having  labored to some good result.  And
 those who  can  look  back  on the amplest tale of work
 accomplished enjoy the feeling of having lived the long-
 est, and  being  ready to lay down  the responsibility of
 life  with  the  satisfaction  of duty discharged and  the
 least regret or  disappointment in surrendering it.  And
 so it is with the present and the future.   If we would
 have time  pass lightly, with  none of  that painful  sense
 of being burdened or wearied, and having to resort to
 all  sorts of devices  to "pass  time" and "kill  time"
 which  embitters  the  existence of  many folk, there is
 nothing  for  it  but to set  the  mind  earnestly on some
 object towards which the energy may strive.
  It is not enough to occupy the  time;  mere industry
 may, as we have seen, have  the effect of making time
 go slowly  by turning  the  incidents of daily  duty into
 difficulties.    This explains why a  multitude of ease-
seeking people  find no relief or lightening of the bur- 
140         The Secret of a Clear  Head.
den of life in occupation.   The task undertaken  has no
purpose.  It alone engrosses the thoughts, and,  instead
of carrying time forward, it seems  to  clog and weary
the spirit.   This must always be  the effect of work
without a purpose.  It sets the mind counting the hours
before  the task will  be completed,  and the soul wears
out more rapidly, while the leaden foot of time does not
seem to  move any faster.  When  work  or occupation
gives energy and hope, when it  lightens the darkness
and brightens the daylight, it has a purpose.   The mind
does not count the enterprise a task without reward, but
a means  to  some end on which  the  eye of faith and
expectancy is fixed.   Life, to be  happy, must have an
object and  a future;  nothing else can sweeten it or
make it pass pleasantly and briskly.
   It is well  that milestones are set up by custom in this
world of ours to mark how the years go by and  offer
each wayfarer a standard by which to measure his own
progress.   A host of personal questions crowd in on the
mind with every occasion which reminds us that another
period  of time has passed away.   Has the year, that is
just concluded, gone  with  us more or less rapidly than
those which have preceded it ?   The fact that the details
of this  recent page in our record  are fresh in  memory,
while those which have gone before  are perhaps for-
gotten,  will tend  to mislead the judgment and make the
last period seem  busier and better spent than its prede-
cessors.   Allowance must be made for this defect in the
register kept by  conscience.  It is generally a bad sign 
Time.                    141
when the recent past seems short  and the near future
long.  The spirit  is weak, or there is not  much to
cherish fondly in the memory, no  good  pile of work to
regard with pleasure, none of that legitimate pride that
a sense of honorable industry inspires.
   The estimate of time  which each individual makes
for himself is  of high interest, and, if rightly judged  by
the common standard, may help to throw an instructive
light on character.   Men measure time very variously.
The old and the young make widely diverse calculations
of the length of the past and the future.   The good and
bad view it from opposite stand-points  and  under dif-
ferent aspects.  It is a happy and hopeful experience
when  the years that are gone seem like  ripe sheaves of
grain well garnered, the  future looks all too  short for
the  work  to   be accomplished, the  happiness to  be
enjoyed, and a  prize glitters in the distance to be wor-
thily won in steadfast faith by loyal service.
   The priceless virtue of patience shows itself in a wise
and  self-possessed  method of measuring time, and the
sorrow and pain of impatience are occasioned by inability
to perform this natural  and half-unconscious function in
a spirit of intelligent respect for  the laws that govern
the procession of causes and effects.   To cultivate that
most excellent  quality,  the power  of  "waiting," on
which success in life generally depends, should be one
of the prominent aims of education, and, of course, of
self-improvement.  True patience  is not so  much the
stern repression of a longing  desire as  the faculty of 
142         The Secret of a Clear  Head.
devoting due attention to means and processes without
losing sight of the end.   The object to be gained is kept
steadily before  the  mind, but the  intellect busies  itself
with the measures  by which the desired  result is to be
attained.
   Instead of lying down in feeble expectancy, the wise
man works while he waits, and the enterprise in which
he engages  is  in some  way  made  contributory to the
purpose by which he is animated.   He  is not indifferent
to the progress of time or insensible of its tardy advance;
but he shortens  the seeming delay by  filling, with acts
of useful purpose,  tending to the end in view and occu-
pying   the  mind without  exhausting  it, the  interval
which  must elapse  before the  fruition of  his hopes.
Patience is an active rather than a passive quality.   It
inspires with new  energy, instead of wasting that which
it exerts.  The  notion  of  sitting still  while waiting is
the cause  of many a  disastrous failure.   The  really
patient are  busy, and, in place of consuming strength,
they devote  it to progress, advancing the realization of
their desires and  making  the  way seem less long  by
embellishing it with good  and worthy exploits, which
engross thought and save the mind from the blighting
effects  of disappointment and weariness.
   None of  us can avoid  the  daily practice of time-
measuring.   Those who  affect to take no heed of time
are either worried by the slow progress  it seems to make
or  apt  to be taken unawares by the discovery of the
speed with which it flies from  them.  The only way to 
Time.                    143
live  peaceably and  contentedly, free from  boredom  on
the one hand or surprises on  the other, is  to make the
method  of time-measuring a  subject  of  intelligent
thought.  The  man who systematically sets  himself to
disregard  the state  of his worldly affairs deserves to be
overtaken by misfortune.   He can  have no  reasonable
ground of complaint if things go  ill  with him.  The
bargain he makes with conscience is one  in which he is
to purchase the present ease of ignorance at the cost of
ceaseless risk and  final discomfiture.   The  man who
essays to ignore the  flight of time can seldom make even
as good  terms  as  these  with  Destiny.  He  pays  the
penalty of indifference in a present sense  of heaviness
and weariness nothing can  compensate, and which only
purpose and industry could relieve.   His heart is not at
ease  when alone within  its secret chambers.  His head
is seldom, if ever, clear. 
PLEASURE.
   The aphorism that no man  can do well unless he
takes pleasure  in what he is doing is especially true of
the  varied  forms  of  head-work,  of every exercise in
which the mind is primarily engaged.   Meanwhile, not
only do  tastes  differ widely  with respect to the sources
of personal happiness, but the strangest differences pre-
vail as to the conditions under which individuals expe-
rience enjoyment.   Some derive pleasure from the slight-
est causes of contentment, and are able to convert even
adverse circumstances into occasions of rejoicing.  Others
need to  be lifted,  as  it were, out of their accustomed
surroundings, and  to  be inspired with some new spirit
before they can be  said to enjoy life or participate in the
sense of  genuine happiness.
   The same object or occasion of pleasure will influence
in totally diverse ways different persons equally moved
by it.  One will  be stirred to enthusiastic delight by its
contemplation,  another will  be  thrown into a  train of
reflections awakening sentiments the most genial but not
communicable  to those around, while a third may seem
scarcely  affected, but nevertheless  experience an inner
sense of  enjoyment, none the  less real  because set  in a
minor key and  exclusively personal.  These differences,
and the infinite variety of manifestations  in which  they
are displayed, illustrate the diversity  of the sense of
                        144 
Pleasure.
145
pleasure or happiness, an experience as variable in nature
as in degree.
   Pleasure is a state, and depends  on the constitution
and temper of the person by whom it is felt rather than
the object or circumstance by which  the feeling may be
excited.   The  source or  occasion  of pleasure  which
moved us powerfully at one  period  of life, or in a cer-
tain  mood, has no influence, or may even  provoke dis-
gust and melancholy, under different conditions of time,
place, and temperament.   Not only are several persons
variously affected, the same individual  may be inspired
with totally diverse emotions  by a scene, a story, an en-
tertainment, or any object of taste, submitted as a means
of gratification or happiness at different periods.
   The  faculty of enjoyment  is  personal, just  as  the
power of producing a  particular sound is located  in a
musical instrument.   A skilful player will elicit better
tones from a finely constituted and  perfect instrument
that can  be produced  from one which is defective, and,
as there are performers able to extract melodious  sounds
from  seemingly impracticable sources, so,  under  certain
conditions, the  least happy may be stirred  to something
like  enjoyment;  but the power, the sense, the capacity,
of receiving agreeable impressions and enjoying the ex-
perience of pleasure, is part  of the nature of man, and,
like every Other faculty, is dependent for  its degree of
acuteness  on the  development  it has  received  in the
course of training by accidental circumstances or  design
and education.   It is the fashion to think and speak of 
146         The  Secret of a Clear  Head.
the means of happiness as potent charms by which the
instinct or sensibility must needs be affected; and, if a
response is not elicited, the individual who fails to be
amused, or give  tokens  of enjoyment, is pitied or con-
demned for his lack of sensibility, whereas perhaps his
nature  is  keenly alive  to  impressions of  pleasure,
although the particular stimulant applied happens to be
uncongenial.
   The  extent to which temper of mind and  habits of
thought influence the faculty of  enjoyment, determining
its susceptibility, and  giving  it a  bias for or against
special forms of excitement, is not sufficiently recognized.
For example, a  severely  realistic  view of life and  its
responsibilities  may extinguish  the  power of deriving
pleasure from works of fiction  and  imaginative enter-
tainments, although the sense of pleasure  may remain
keenly  alive to impressions of wit and  humor which do
not mock  the manners and  circumstances of society.
Without the explanation this reflection supplies it seems
strange to find men of sense, who are  daily engrossed
with  oppressively gloomy  and repulsive  views of life
and humanity, moved to merriment by trivial  pleasant-
ries and apparently susceptible of the most frivolous en-
joyments,  whereas the more intellectual entertainments
which delight  their inferiors in brain capacity have no
power to please them.
   The  habit of stripping the tinsel from  life, of pene-
trating  the  glamour  which   the  conventionalities of
society  throw over existence, of analyzing conduct and 
Pleasure.                   147
searching for motives, is so strong that it prevents the
pleasure which others derive from the contemplation of
artificial delineations of character  and  fictitious  scenes
and  episodes.  The man of law  is not gratified with a
drama which violates the principles of  personal conduct
and  legal procedure;  the  professional anatomist is  of-
fended  instead of pleased  with the picture or  piece of
statuary which transgresses the laws of form and pro-
portion;  and  the  physician  can derive no  enjoyment
from the contemplation  of varieties of figure and color
which he is accustomed  to regard as the indications of
disease.   In the same way and from  the same cause, as
the observant generally grow more experienced  they lose
the power of  tolerating the defects and errors of an un-
real drama, and  the stage loses  its  influence;  while, as
the  years roll on, the varied scenes of life come to be
associated with disagreeable  experiences,  and  more of
sorrow than joy is called up when they are re-presented.
   The habit of reflection is thus a hindrance to common-
place enjoyments.   The practice of looking into futurity
may be even  more ruthlessly destructive.   What,  for
instance, can be less conducive to the pleasure popularly
expected from a  clever theatrical entertainment than the
forecast of that inevitable moment when the  poor play-
ers, having spent their  brief hour on life's stage, must
in truth shuffle off the  mortal coil?   Nothing perhaps
more painfully dispels the  illusion  of paint  and gaudy
 happiness than such a forecast occurring to the mind of
 the spectator, say, in the middle of a  burlesque.  The 
148        The  Secret of a Clear  Head.
thought which strays in on the consciousness of an ordi-
nary thinker as a strange reflection is the key-note of
some minds, and persons so biased are incapacitated for
the enjoyment of particular forms of amusement, although
their susceptibility for the impressions of pleasure spring-
ing from other sources is not impaired.
   The antithesis of this last temperament illustrates the
force of habit, in giving especial zest to  the  enjoyment
derivable from fictitious scenes and personifications.  It
is a subject of common remark that actors are peculiarly
fond of theatres, thus presenting a  marked contrast to
the experience  of other professions,  the members  of
which commonly seek their diversion  as  far as possible
from the scenes  of their daily labor.   The true solution
of the enigma is probably to be found in the fact that
by the  habit  of assuming characters, and  living, as it
were, in a world of supposititious sentiment, the faculty
of enjoyment acquires a special susceptibility for  pleas-
ures derived through the imagination, and the unreal
comes  almost to  replace the  real.   In  actual life the
experience is reversed, and the comedian  appears  a sad
mortal, while  the tragedian revels in humorous views of
existence  as  constitutional  temperament or  the  mood
impels him.
   Habit is not  less influential  in developing predilec-
tions for particular forms and modes of enjoyment than
in determining the degree of impressibility.   Children
and young people, brought up in the  midst of associa-
tions linking  the sense of pleasure  with special  scenes 
Pleasure".                   149
and  exercises,  naturally find their  enjoyment  in  these
objects and occupations.  Country fashions differ from those
connected with the town or the sea, and persons trained
exclusively amid one set of surroundings fail to under-
stand the enthusiasm displayed by those who have been
associated with another set.  Nevertheless the faculty is
the same, and perhaps as keen, in both cases, though de-
veloped with such specialty as to be insensible to impres-
sions other than those for which it has been trained.
   Pleasure is infinite in its variety, and there  is prob-
ably no form of excitement which is not more or less
frequently pressed into  its service.  This consideration,
which  is a simple statement  of fact, obviously strikes at
the root of the conceit of " self-mortification " and " self-
denial."    Man  is so thoroughly selfish in  his moral
nature that it is a purely groundless assumption to sup-
pose that he ever really denies  his dominant inclination.
If the impulse gratified  by any act  of human  life were
not, for the moment at  least, the strongest, it would not
triumph over all other desires.
   The only possible way in  which a  man can be truth-
fully said to  deny himself—that is, to deprive  himself
of the  pleasure he most covets—is when by some pledge
or act  of violition he has previously  put it out of  his
power  to gratify a particular wish  or inclination; and
even in that  case it was his pleasure to  make this sacri-
fice when he  made it, and therefore it was at the moment
an exercise from which he extracted  enjoyment, though
at the cost of future pain.   The cant of self-sacrifice is 
150         The Secret  of a  Clear Head.

therefore  inadmissible;  the pleasure  of giving up con-
stitutes for a time a superior enjoyment to  that of pos-
session.  The better part is chosen because it  is felt to
be better.
  The pleasure of hope in the future surpasses the tran-
sient joy of present experience, or the comfort of escape
from  fear  outweighs the value of a  momentary enjoy-
ment with the dread  of  some penalty to follow.  Even
the anticipation of happiness  in the far future ministers
to the sense of enjoyment in a way that gratifies self.  It
follows that, while  it  may seem impossible  to derive
enjoyment from some of the austerities and  privations to
which men and women  doom themselves,  the truth  is,
these ascetics do enjoy their self-imposed hardships, and
the claim of special merit for the self-sacrifice performed
rests on no more real foundation  than the credulity of
those who, because they do not  themselves comprehend
the pleasure enjoyed, are simple enough to believe in  its
non-existence.
  The wise man  may affirm the superiority of his more
solid sources of pleasure, the  far-sighted may extol the
enduring quality of  his  enjoyment because other  pleas-
ures are deceptive and fleeting, but none can truthfully
deny that they find enjoyment in the  exercises or ways
of life to which they devote themselves, for the  simple
reason that if they did not prefer they would not choose
them.  Some count the  future of  greater moment than
the  present;  but in this view there is  an enjoyment  of 
Pleasure.                   151
conscious wisdom and forethought with which  no pleas-
ure of possession can vie.
  It  is well  when the faculty of pleasure-taking is so
trained  that it most readily responds to true and worthy
forms of gratification.   The responsibility of those upon
whom the cultivation of  this capacity  devolves is not
easily overstated.   There  is a great art in the culture;
it is not possible to succeed by cutting off every impure
or untrustworthy source, and thereby limiting the means,
of  enjoyment.   The untested sources of pleasure will
acquire an especial charm from the  abstinence so en-
forced, and when the mind, sated with a few enjoyments,
is free to slake its thirst at all, there  is danger  that the
draught may  be  intoxicating,  and even  deadly from
excess.
   Parents and guardians are  not wise who  seek  to
insure the future happiness of their children by a policy
of rigid exclusiveness.  The theatre comes to be regarded
as an elysium  if  an occasional  visit  is  prohibited.   A
 mild course of theatre-going, taking  pieces as  they are
 produced—the good and  the bad  together—while the
 judgment is  pliant  and  open to correction  by wise
 counsel, would save  many  an impulsive youth from
 plunging headlong into dissipation.   The same principle
 applies to all  enjoyments not absolutely  inadmissible.
 It  is better to face the fact  that they must be encoun-
 tered, and  to avoid giving them an  unnatural and
 exaggerated fascination by restriction.   As a  matter of
 experience, the attractions  of the playhouse are not over- 
152         The Secret of a Clear  Head.
powering if only they be regarded in their place ; which
is neither exalted nor  permanent in the  category of
amusements.
   The  like is true of the score of  so-called " vanities"
to which the mind is inclined—not uncommonly by the
clumsy measures taken to direct it to sources of  happi-
ness vastly superior, but not at first sight so alluring.
It is a lamentable issue of  evil associations, or sinister
influence, when prurient tastes give the faculty of enjoy-
ment a bias to radically bad  courses.  This  is too often
the case with  those  who  after years of injudicious re-
straint find their way into the full blaze of the world at
the stage of development in which all the susceptibilities
are the most active and readily impressed  by surrounding
influences.
   It is not difficult to detect the existence of a depraved
taste or faculty of  enjoyment  prevalent among  the
masses of society in  all  its grades.   The public amuse-
ments generally and  the fashions and habits of the world
supply incontrovertible proof of the essentially low tone
of morals which forms the key-note of social enjoyment.
It is vain to deplore this evil if we do nothing to remedy
its defects and avert its consequences.  There is abun-
dant  scope  for the  exercise of personal virtue  in this
field.  Every one of us  should, for self, and  those with
whom we are associated in life,  strive to develop a capa-
city for  enjoyments above the  level set  by sinister ex-
amples.   There is always a tendency downwards, which
needs to be constantly resisted.   I am not sure that the 
Pleasure.                   153
effort made  by education to  enlighten  the  masses is
likely also to purify their intellectual tastes or effect a
genuine improvement  in the quantity and  quality of
their brain-power.  The worst faults  of  coarseness and
vice are not  uncommonly found  associated  with  the
highest  intellectual attainments.   Mere culture in  the
literary  and scholastic  sense will not suffice to  ennoble
or eliminate the seeds  of evil.  Meanwhile  high and
pure views of life are compatible with what is sometimes
called " ignorance."  The head may be cultured at the
cost of  the heart; but it is the latter we need most
earnestly to purify and  elevate. 
SELF-IMPORTANCE.
   Fussy faces, care-worn  faces,  supercilious and cold
 faces,  with here and there benevolent faces  beaming
 with goodwill and friendliness, spring from the sense of
 self-importance.  What must be the feeling of the man
 who goes about with the consciousness  that the fate of
 nations, in large measure, depends upon his intelligence,
 address, and patriotism ?  It matters little whether the
 consciousness  be real or imaginary; the  personal effects
 are the same—and it is with these we are at the moment
 mainly interested.
   Man-and-woman-kind may be ranged, by the expres-
 sion they wear on their countenances, in two principal
 classes—the Somebodies who lord  it more or less gra-
 ciously over their fellows, and the anybodies who meekly,
 or  otherwise,  submit to be ruled, patronized, or op-
 pressed.  Those who have the  bearing  of being  thor-
 oughly contented with  their lot, whether  high or  low,
 form an almost insignificant  minority, about whose way
 through life, with its tame  enjoyments  and mitigated
 sorrows, it  is  not  worth  while  to  waste words—albeit
 these last  are  the  only truly happy folk in the world,
and  their inanely-joyous faces  glow with the blissful
ignorance  of human  nature's worst and  most worrying
regrets,  disappointments, and annoyances.
  To be Somebody  in statecraft,  diplomacy, military
                        154 
Self-importance.
155
skill and prowess, literature, science, art, commerce, or
even manual industry, probably inspires  a  comforting
sense of  superiority, but it  must entail a  multitude of
anxieties.  Setting aside the burden of  responsibility
which presses heavily on sensitive shoulders,  there is the
perpetual effort to maintain  the position gained.   Much
flapping  and fluttering  of  wings will be necessary to
keep the place in mid-air " over the  heads  of the peo-
ple."   The  up-gazing multitude is apt  to  follow the
flight of the eagle and his  imitators, whether  hawk or
lark, wondrous  curiously;  and  the  consciousness that
one is so watched cannot be wholly  inspiriting.  It may
even embitter triumph to know that success has not been
gracefully achieved.
  Again, to be Somebody must be to feel that reverence
is due to the dignity;  and, if  homage is not yielded
willingly, which cannot  be  always  the fact,  there is the
ever-present sense of vigilance to see that  the full meed
of respect is rendered or enforced.  Self-assertion may
come  easily to certain minds;  but it must, certainly,
form part of the character, or things are sure  to go awry.
This constitutes a  serious drawback to the advantage of
feeling self-important.   In short,  the consciousness of
superiority is  scarcely an unqualified boon, and those
of us who are not so gifted may be thankful to be spared
the penalty distinction entails.   Meanwhile  the lack of
cause for the mingled pleasure and  pain of boastfulness
leaves us free to compassionate the sorrows  and  incon-
veniences of the Somebodies with whom we are brought 
156         The Secret of a  Clear Head.
into contact; and there is no sincerer gratification to the
insignificant than to pick holes in the virtues, point out
the defects, execrate  the vices, and  playfully  pity the
weaknesses, of the great, the  prosperous, the pampered,
and the blest.
   Somebodies, real and pretended, abound.  It is diffi-
cult to move a step without encountering them;  and  it
is not easy at first sight to distinguish the true from the
false.  The spurious  article  seems  to  possess  all the
marks of sterling quality, and  to bear  them bravely—
often better defined  than the genuine.   This is not sur-
prising,  seeing that  self-assertion  forms  part of the
Somebody-character;  and that quality is ever the same,
whether the  self-asserted  superiority be good or bad,
tricky or honest.
   Anybody may be thought  to  be  Somebody if he can
do his fooling cleverly.  We can measure  the ease with
which the  character may be successfully assumed  by the
extent to which the multitude is readily duped.  With
what strange  facility are  the majority  of  even sensible
people'wont to be hoodwinked and cajoled  into the sur-
render of  their opinions and  their property, their con-
fidence,  and even their affection,  by the  wiles  of the
adventurous upstart who, claiming to be Somebody, per-
sistently and  adroitly exacts  a  recognition he  does not
deserve!   The convictions   sacrificed,   the  belongings
squandered,  the hopes  blighted, and  the friendships
ruined by  the deceptions practiced and  dupes  made by
pretended  Somebodies lie at the root of national, social, 
Self-importance.
157
family and  personal discomfitures:  hence the need of
caution to detect the cheat.
   The  signs and  tokens of truth and falseness in the
parade of self-importance are not readily defined.   It is
easy to say that pretence  is very apt to run into affecta-
tion, and that  the  self-assertion of  a  pretended Some-
body is likely to be overdone.  This  is not the fact.  He
is a sorry pretender who gives himself many airs.   The
role of the  deceiver is more likely to be one of humility
and self-depreciation.  The sense of not being Somebody
then comes to his aid, and helps him in acting up to the
part assumed,  by checking affectation.  At the same
time it should be recognized  that the pretender does, in
a large proportion of instances, actually suppose that he
is what he  affects  to be. ^ After repeating a false story
very frequently, a man may begin to believe it true.
   Moreover, the pretender often actually  becomes, after
a sort,  what he  tries to persuade others he is.  There is
such a  thing as converting the  unreal  into  the real by
the force of affirmation.   We see this illustrated  every
day in  the popularizing of articles of commerce by skil-
ful and persevering advertisement.   Something said to
be used by everybody, when it is barely known beyond
the circle of its promoters, in  process of  time comes to
be a universal  necessary.   In  like  manner Somebody
who is  really nobody may be made Somebody by dili-
gent self-assertion.  It is in this way that  the sway of
adventurous  spirits over  calmer minds is  established.
The mystery which always attends the unknown  helps 
158
The Secret of a Clear Head.
the achievement.   A man springing suddenly from ob-
scurity is, other things being equal, more likely to attain
supremacy  than  one  with an antecedent history that
seems  to augur future triumphs of popularity, if only
he is clever enough to take advantage of the mystery as
well as able to discharge his public duty.
   The  sense  of  self-importance rewards  and inspires
adventurers as well as  good  men,  though it may come
to the aid  of  the prentender late in his career.   When-
ever, and however, it comes, the feeling is real  in itself,
though perhaps insufficiently  grounded, and  it is there-
fore unreasonable to expect anything essentially incon-
gruous or  startling in  the  deportment of new men, or
pretenders, which shall mark  them off from the number
of really important personages and brand them openly
as impostors.
   It is  no uncommon circumstance  to hear an expres-
sion of surprise that men and women not to the manner
born contrive  to conduct themselves even fairly well in
positions of prominence.  This reflection  is the outcome
of a mistaken mode of reasoning.   It would be  more
startling to find that those who have proved  the posses-
sion of a power to control and  set aside adverse condi-
tions had not also the wit to adapt  their conduct to the
positions to which they have raised  themselves.  The
sense of being Somebody is  itself educationary and ele-
vating, and it  has probably done excellent work in im-
proving those who have experienced  its  influence, as
well as bad work in adding plausibility to the deception 
Self-importance.               159
practiced on others.   There are few things that are wholly
bad, and the consciousness of superiority is not one of
the number.
  Nevertheless self-importance, when it dawns prema-
turely on a weak mind, is apt to impel the victim  of its
blandishments to strangely indecorous deeds and  man-
nerisms.  How infinitely grotesque is any broad affecta-
tion of  superiority in station or intellect when  the pre
tence is ill-founded!  The  brainless adventuress who
mimics  the  airs of a woman of fashion;  the  insensate
being who sets up for a person  of taste without a vestige
of culture; the man of money-bags who  apes  the man
of acres—how  laughably  comical  are  the exploits of
these monsters!   The feeling of being  Somebody is  a
treacherous and  misleading guide, and needs to be con-
trolled with a strong judgment if it is to be restrained
from gaining  the mastery over its subject and inciting
him to exploits of riotous imbecility.
  The vagaries and  weakness of a great mind may ex-
cite pity, but they are not less ridiculous  than the follies
of a  little  mind.  It may be  less  exasperating  to be
fooled by greatness than  by littleness, but  it is hard  to
tolerate the tyranny of imposture in any form, whether
the offence  be one of exaggerated or entirely groundless
pretension.  On  the whole, perhaps, human nature is
more inclined  to condone the crime of a  gross pretender
than  the fault of over-pretentious  greatness.   History
tends to teach that inflated and exaggerated worth and
merit have been visited with more permanent and severe 
160
The  Secret of a Clear Head.
chastisement  on exposure than utterly hollow  pretence.
The latter may be almost forgiven for its audacity.
  Again, the sense of importance is  apt  to  involve its
subject in disgrace by calling  for the exercise of powers
which he does not possess.   Success  in any single line
of enterprise is very  likely to end in this sort of disas-
ter.   A person who has achieved real excellence in one
department begins to think he is Somebody, and, when
he comes to play the part, fails utterly.  It does not by
any means follow that  because a  man  has done some-
thing he must  be Somebody.   He may, or he may not.
The diver does not become an aquatic animal  when he
accomplishes the feat of remaining under water for some
seconds; and the salmon is not an air-breathing creature
because  it  leaps above  the  surface, or the flying-fish a
bird because he  projects himself above the crest of the
wave.
   It  is no uncommon experience for a man who has per-
formed some feat of nobility  or political  genius to find
himself  wholly out of his  element in the situation to
which he has been raised, or at the work with which he
has been entrusted.
  It is one of the practical  lessons men learn painfully
in the rigorous school  of experience, that the ability to
perform an exceptional  action does not  imply the exist-
ence  of  power to maintain  the  path  of  supremacy
achieved.  The sense of self-importance may be engen-
dered  by having  done  something  great,  but it  is ex-
tremely probable that it will  issue in disappointment 
Self-Importance.
161
Those are wise who keep the consciousness to themselves
for a sufficiently long period to test its grounds before
they proceed to«give it expression in public.
   Now and then we find this sense present to the mind
of a man of genuine ability, and sustaining him in the
doing of small things when his work and  genius are, as
yet, unappreciated.   The  feeling of power in reserve
gives confidence, and it is well if it also inspires patience.
There is no policy so successful as that  of waiting, when
the idea includes working strenuously,  though unobtru-
sively, to a  definite end.  He who waits will win; and
nothing so  greatly helps the self-restraint necessary to
carry  this policy to a  full issue as a rational sense of
self-importance.   It arms the  well-constituted  mind
against its own besetting impulses, it smoothes the  path
of privation, aids reserve, and consoles  for many a pass-
ing but painful indignity.
   It is  not wholly, or in the main, a bad sense, this self-
consciousness  of  fitness  and capacity  for  better things
and a higher status.   The personal problem is—to use
it  rightly,  to make it  subservient  to  good  ends, and
never to let it get the upper hand or obtain the mastery.
The wise man who is sensible of being Somebody in a
particular sphere—and it is possible to be Somebody in
any  sphere—will be  more intent on developing his
capacity for future achievmeuts than  on  hugging the
consciousness for its own sake.   Being really Somebody,
it  is little sacrifice, and no self-denial, to be unapprecia-
ted amid the associations  in which the present is cast. 
162
The  Secret of a Clear  Head.
There  is  no morbid discontent  or sulkiness  with the
present, still  less is  there  impatience, or that visionary
isolation which  romantic persons and impostors,  alike,
are wont to  affect.   The present is looked upon as  a
season of preparation, and its every opportunity is prized
and utilized as means to an end—means to be made the
most of, and resolutely employed to both immediate and
remote advantage.
   The state  of  mind in which inactivity is induced by
the sense of being Somebody presages disappointment.
The indolent and dreamy are ever prone to seek refuge
from duty under the pretence of  feeling worthy of better
and  higher  things.  Alas,  Jonah's gourd withers too
certainly!  The surest proof of unworthiness is  to be
found in this method  of  expressing the  consciousness.
The man or woman who is possessed with the sense of
self importance, and who does  not feel stirred to dili-
gence  and increased forbearance  by the consciousness, is
deceived.  It is a convincing token of nothingness and
emptiness to be without resolute  purpose and lacking in
energy.   Such  people  are Nobodies, and  have  nothing
to hope for. 
CONSISTENCY.
  There are few qualities more generally appreciated
or less commonly understood that what we call  consist-
ency.  It is one of the highest compliments which can
be paid to a statesman to say that he is consistent: and
in every  walk of life  the virtue  is  admired, and credit
for consistency prized and  coveted.  Mistaking  its real
nature, men and women go  about to imitate it.   They
create the semblance of certain effects which consistency
is seen to produce on the general character and conduct,
forgetting that, unless the  fruit we covet is borne by a
genuine and healthy tree it must be corrupt and unreal,
however  pleasant to the eye or seemingly good for food.
There is  something wondrously impressive in a  reputa-
tion  for consistency.   It seems to supply the one quality
needed to give the hall-marking of sterling gold to char-
acter.  It imparts the stability of age to youth, and
gives credit to opinions formed  by a mind  as yet im-
mature.  If it can be said of  a man that he is  consist-
ent, that at once marks  him as a person to be treated
with respect, even when  those around him fail to under-
stand his conduct or policy.
  Consistency implies  a certain continuity of action
which  is supposed to  be impossible without principle
and strength of judgment and character.  A consistent
person is therefore felt to be one to  lean  upon and  look
                         163 
164
The  Secret of a  Clear Head.
up  to.  The  less  self-reliant love  to  follow a leader
whose policy is distinguished by this trait.   The weak
and wavering  seek shelter  under the  wing  of  such a
friend and  counselor.  It seems as  though, while they,
poor  erring mortals, are blundering and  straying, the
possessor  of this high quality  of consistency must be
looking steadily far ahead, and pressing onward to the
goal  with undimmed vision and  unhesitating step, be-
cause he walks straight before him  like one who knows
the way and  has anticipated in its vicissitudes and diffi-
culties.   There is some truth and  not a little error in
this presumption.
   It is possible for a clever man to  earn repute for con-
sistency without possessing the least real claim to credit
for the deeper virtues of instinct and principle which the
characteristic is supposed  to indicate.  I have  no wish
.to  depreciate  the value of consistency.  It is an  emi-
nently useful and, when it springs from genuine sources,
a priceless quality; but, like every other good thing, it
may  be counterfeited, and,  seeing  how this  particular
characteristic  passes  current in society and  among all
sorts  and  conditions of men, it would be strange if there
were  not much spurious metal in the market,  and seem-
ingly excellent persons, enjoying the highest character for
consistency, were not occasionally found to be tricked out
in meretricious ornaments,  while  lacking the stability
and principle that make human nature  trustworthy and
entitle it to  confidence and respect.
  Consistency  of  conduct is one thing, consistency of 
Consistency.                 165
principle another.   The  former is only valuable as it
springs  from and  betokens the latter.  The wise will
esteem the sign only so far as it indicates the thing sig-
nified.   To  be worth  the name,  consistency  must  be
deeper  than  the  surface.  Credit is not  unfrequently
gained for stability of purpose by dull stupidity—a low
level of  intelligence that does not rise to the  dignity of
being moved  by  passing events  and circumstances.
Another variety of the  spurious quality is  that which
consists simply of plasticity combined with inertia.  The
surrounding conditions being the same, the " creature of
circumstances " is  the same, and therefore seems to be
consistent.
   Looked at from  a common-sense  point  of view, and
with an intelligent knowledge of  human  nature in its
manifold phases, the sameness which is often mistaken
for consistency ought at once to be recognized as incom-
patible with that quality.   A dull, lifeless uniformity of
opinion  or conduct indicates nothing so much as insen-
sibility;  and a lack of quickness in perceiving the force
of  circumstances can  scarcely co-exist  with  that  high
principle which  is  the essence and  source of  genuine
consistency.   The  man  who  claims to be  considered
consistent because he thought, said, or did  precisely the
same thing years  ago which he is thinking, saying, or
doing now, is asking to be credited with intense stolidity.
As time rolls  on, it is hardly  possible that what  was
consistent  with his age and  the surrounding  circum-
stances so long before can be consistent still. 
166         The  Secret of a Clear Head.
  The consistency that commands respect and inspires
confidence is more than the fact—we might almost say
the accident—of saying and doing the same  thing again
even under similar circumstances.  A lump  of clay and
a piece of wax will assume like shapes on being thrust
successively into the same mould; but the two materials
have  little  in  common beyond  their  plasticity.   No
inherent formative  principle determines their configura-
tion.   Everything depends on the force acting  upon
them  from  without.   They are quite as  likely to take
one impression as  another.   The form assumed  by a
living organism, whether  a growing plant or animal, is
governed by  a principle incorporate in  the  seed and
developed in the structure as it rises to maturity; exter-
nal conditions  may  modify  its  details,  but  they can
never change  its nature.  It is just so with the human
character—the quality of  consistency,  which  we  all
admire and revere,  is  genuine  only when it springs from
indwelling principle,  a governing force independent of
and often  triumphing over the aggressive force of cir-
cumstances.
   It is of  the  highest moment to discriminate between
these widely and essentially different causes, which not
uncommonly appear to produce identical results.  Weak
or simply pliable minds,  with no  moral stamina, may,
under propitious influences, long preserve an appearance
of excellence and seeming strength of character because
they chance to remain  under the same or  similar in-
fluences,  but,  when the outward support is  removed 
Consistency.                  167
they yield to pressure, and display other qualities pos-
sibly antagonistic.    The  collapse that  occurs  is  the
simple consequence of that utter lack of real consistency
too frequently illustrated in experience.
  The only true consistency is that which is found allied
with  individuality  of character.  There is a common
error about  individuality  which  it  may be useful to
mention in passing.  The  tendency of recent thought is
to  make the  individual  the unit of the  nation,  and
regard the  commonwealth as a  mere aggregation  of
persons thrown together by accident, just as the members
of a public company may be brought and bound together
by  interest.   Natural relationship counts for nothing;
the  family  has no place in the  calculation.   By an
extension of this hypothesis individualism has come to
be  regarded as an  isolating characteristic.  A strongly-
marked individuality is expected to produce egoism, if
not  eccentricity.   This  theory recognizes  no  interde-
pendence of intents and qualities.  The individual, in
his highest  development,  is assumed to be a  man or
woman capable of making way in the world by force of
personal  character, and  most likely  to  be at variance
with those around, being virtually independent.  This
is a mistaken  and mischievous  view of life, and  one
against which the young should be especially warned.
  Genuine individuality is the  natural development of
typical qualities;  the best specimen of the class is the
most representative, and  therefore the most closely allied
with the species to which he belongs.   The most perfect 
168         The Secret of a  Clear Head.
rose is more thoroughly a rose than one which is not so
well  developed.   The  best  man  or woman is  more
manly or womanly than  others, and instead  of  being
isolated, the individual is thrust into a prominent posi-
tion as  a  typical  and representative specimen of his
order.   Egoism and eccentricity are vicious  traits of
individual  development by no  means to be  regarded
with complaisance, or  otherwise than with shame and
regret.
   The strength which  an inherent force of consistency
imparts  is  one  that shows itself in  the  more vigorous
growth  of  racial or class  characteristics.   Every dis-
tinctive  quality springs  from  some  latent  faculty or
capacity in  nature.  The formative force holds the indi-
vidual true to his  type.  This is the essence of consist-
ency—an active principle of self-respect, and self-devel-
opment, which  are, in  fact, so many expressions of the .
force that determines the  physical and mental charac-
teristics of  the species to which  the individual belongs.
Consistency is obedience to the rule of nature, subjection
to the " reign of law."
   There is  not much virtue in the seeking of consistency
as an object.   When people make an effort " to be con-
sistent,"  they generally fail.   It  is like trying to exist,
or breathe  naturally, or to do purposely  any one of a
score of  things which ought to be accomplished uncon-
sciously.   Thorough consistency is simple  fidelity to
self, and is, in  fact, acting with  honesty.   The sort of
consistency  which lies in doing  or  saying a  particular 
Consistency.                  169
 thing at one time, and long afterwards taking pains to
 do or say the like again, or something that will "agree"
 with it, is a sorry imitation of the genuine quality.  If
 the character were properly developed, and the will were
 only true to itself—that is, free to follow  the behests of
 the inner  conscience—the conduct could  not be other-
 wise than  consistent.  The same remark applies, and
 with equal force, to consistency of opinion.
   If there be no guiding  principle in  the judgment, it
 is necessary to take special precautions  against self-con-
 tradiction ; but, if the mind is its own master, and works
 under the  instinctive  sense of responsibility and  truth-
 fulness begotten by nature, no effort can be necessary to
 secure consistency—that quality will be  the normal out-
 come of  healthy activity.  It is astonishing what  pains
 people take to be consistent, and how  they belie  them-
 selves in  the attempt.  The disappointment is due to
 the effort; it is the penalty of trying to effect by artifice
 what ought to spring naturally from natural causes. No
 sensible man labors to be consistent in his appetite.  He
 does  not burden^ his  memory to remember whether he
 likes beef or plums, and to tax himself  with the duty of
 taking or rejecting them consistently.   In all his likes
 and dislikes he is content to leave the  issue  to nature.
 Why does  he cast the obligations of consistency in mor-
als and policy on the  same broad and strong shoulders?
   The objection  to  this obvious  course is  plain  to see.
Man walks in a vain show; he lives for appearances; he
is  careful  of his  conduct,  because it  is  artificial and 
170
The  Secret of a  Clear Head.
modeled  to a pattern of righteousness, instead of being
the natural expression of a pure mind.   Of  course, if
we have to keep up  a pretended character for any
quality, whether it be  that of consistency of any other
supposed virtue, we must devote time  and thought to
the effort; hence  all the difficulty of being consistent,
and hence  the failure which is almost  sure  to  occur
when the  attention is  even  temporarily  diverted from
the laborious task of an ideal self-impersonation.
   Consistency is not worth striving for.   If it is worth
anything, it will come unsought.  It would be too much
to say that it is the highest quality, but  it is  certainly
the surest test, of character.   There is often  great diffi-
culty in distinguishing the true  from the  false, the pre-
tended and artificial from  the effortless and  real; but,
when discovered, the consistent mind  is ever respect-
able and generally praiseworthy.  It is seldom we find
a person consistently bad.  The natural  expression of
most minds is fairly innocent,  if not distinguished by
virtue.    When, therefore,  an  individual is consistent,
his conduct is generally also creditable.   The aim of
self-culture should be directed to the springs  of action,
which lie deeper than conduct.  If these are  pure and
orderly  in  their working, the surface-character will be
satisfactory.
   Consistency implies rhythmical energy—it is the im-
mediate  effect of order.  Consistent things  are  done,
accordant opinions formed, and policy framed on  the
same lines of principle, because the  motive forces of the 
Consistency.                 171
character are in harmonious relation.  Everything works
smoothly and with precision when the head is clear and
the conduct is  consistent, because " the heart is right."
Physicians say of the body that its functions should be
performed  without  attracting  the attention to any par-
ticular part  of the  organism—the  effect  ought to be
produced  while the  process  is  unobserved.    This  is
eminently true of the mind and character.  A troubled
moral  organism is unhealthy.   The inward  struggle
some  persons seem to glory in is abnormal.   Granted
that it is caused  by the conflict  of good  and  evil im-
pulses, these same evil forces would have been powerless
to assail  the better  parts  of man's nature if  they had
not been fostered in the consciousness.
  Youth  is  the time  for  conquering the  evil passions
and  uprooting  the foul weeds.   If this  valiant  hus-
bandry is neglected, there  must needs be  turmoil later
on in life;  but the individual has himself alone to thank
for the experience.   Those who would be  peaceful and
happy in the noon-day and eventide must be up betimes
and  subdue  the enemies of happiness, the depredators
and  sowers of  tares.   Consistency is conformity to the
nature born with a man and shaped and fashioned while
he is fresh and  wilful.
  Those  who have  neglected  the  opportunity of self-
training while young can attain to the consistency which
lies in governing  the character only by a strong judg-
ment founded on principle.  It is never so easy to make
principle an object as to develop  it as an  all-powerful, 
172         The Secret of a Clear  Head.

inspiring, and controlling force  in the mind; but it is
better to have principle as an object than not  to have it
at all.   Consistency can never be made an object without
counterfeiting the real  quality.   True consistency is un-
consciously developed,  and, for the most part it is unob-
served by the individual by whom it is exhibited.   True
consistency is a thing of life, and therefore  progressive.
It is the  growth of a feature or  character, and, as the
character changes, it will  change, so that genuine con-
sistency is not sameness, and does not express itself by
the  mere repetition of acts or words.   It is consistency
with the principle that underlies the conduct and deter-
mines  the judgment—consistency with self.   This is
the  only true and  worthy form of the quality which all
men reverence, and  without which society would be un-
 endurable, good and clear head-work impracticable, and
 life a continuous and cheerless toil. 
SIMPLICITY.
   It is  a common practice among the least blamable,
 if not the most excellent, classes of society to extol the
 virtue of simplicity,  the charm of childlike  simple-
 mindedness.    What  precisely does  this complicated
 epithet mean?  In  what does  its essential  merit and
 fascination consist?   The stock  phrases of commenda-
 tion in use half a century ago glorified innocence.   The
 fashion has so changed that this last-mentioned quality
 is now seldom referred to except in  sarcasm.   To de-
 scribe a  person as innocent is to impute anything but
 guileless characteristics.
   The change is no mere alteration of terms ;  it signifies
 a  variation  in  feeling, if  not  a complete revolution of
 thought, with respect to the features and traits  of  char-
 acter which command respect and confidence, and win
 love, in  a stage of moral development more advanced
 and  calling for the display of  higher and more  complex
 qualities of heart and head to  make out a claim to hon-
 est praise for  purity  and excellence.   The time has
 passed when negative  forms of virtue, the  absence of
 vice, could suffice  to protect the character from a per-
 vading atmosphere, and the ever present influences, of
 corruption.  No mere  looking away from evil,  turning
a  deaf  ear  to  the  suggestions  of wrong, assuming a
stolid indifference to the blandishments and allurements
                         173 
1H         The Secret of a  Clear Head.
of wickedness, will enable a man or woman to pass nn-
contaminated through the crowded avenues of life under
the new conditions with which existence is beset.
  In old times a man could choose his associates, and it
was his own fault if evil communications corrupted his
nature.   Now  there  is  no opportunity for  selection.
The multitude presses upon us on every side;  and it is
no  small  achievement if a  man succeeds in  preserving
any considerable share of individuality.  Children are
taught and  trained  in classes; the young of both sexes
are thrown together at the most  impressionable period
of  life, when their characters are as yet unformed, and,
like soft clay, are moulded in the mass; men and women
struggle together in the crush and scramble for bare
existence, with no  time or  space  for the cultivation  of
personal characteristics.   The presence of common needs,
the force of common habits, the influence  of common
customs and  usages are  irresistible,  and something in-
comparably more potent than innocence is necessary to
give that solidity and  strength to the  moral character
which shall enable it  to resist the  forces,  within and
without, that tend  te disorganize and deprave it.  The
instinct  which  discovers at once a safeguard and  all-
powerful preventive in the quality of simple-mindedness
does not greatly err either  in the appreciation of diffi-
culties or in rhe recognition of forces and processes  by
which these may be successfully overcome.
   Simplicity,  or simple-mindedness, implies  honesty,
than which there is no  more indispensable or effective 
Simplicity.                   175
element of a  good and stable character.   People gen-
erally have the strangest and most unsatisfactory notions
imaginable  about  honesty.   The  claims of  absolute
probity are disregarded; the quality of perfect truthful-
ness is barely recognized as an active principle of mo-
rality to be realized in conduct.   Persons of exemplary
rectitude, animated by the highest motives, strive chiefly
to conform  and, for  the most part, rest content with  a
general allegiance to  the dogma of the relativity of truth
which  makes truth  the  subject of  circumstances and
expediency the standard of honesty.  As little deception,
as small a departure from  a rigid line, as close adherence
to the narrow and straight path, as  may be possible con-
sistently  with the supposed needs  of life, are  regarded
as a full discharge of the obligations of duty.
   The  low and  defective  estimate of  personal  responsi-
bility which an  incomplete perception of truth, an im-
perfect notion of honesty implies, takes  its rise  in a lack
of simplicity.   There is more than one object present to
the  mind—a double vision in place of a single picture
before a single eye.  Moral obliquity springs  from the
lack of clearness and directness in  the  gaze.   The pri-
mary  purpose to be truthful and candid—in a word,
honest—is qualified by secondary considerations of pru-
dence and a forecasting of consequences.  The  deep and
firm hold this principle of expediency has on the judg-
ment is proved by the ever-present thought that abso-
lute honesty is impracticable.   It is argued that, in the
artificial  life  we lead, perfectly outspoken candor and 
176         The  Secret of a Clear Head.
unqualified truthfulness would lead the individual who
tried to practice  it a prey  to  the  less honest folk by
whom  he was surrounded.
  It is no doubt the fact that perfect simple-mindedness
would suffer in the competition with cunning and deceit.
Honesty is not the best policy in the limited and worldly
sense;  but it is  none the less true that to be strictly
truthful  is, in the end,  and taking the whole of life,
with its debtor and credit balance of good  and evil into
account,  the  line  of  conduct  which will   produce the
largest measure of real contentment and true happiness.
Moral economists err by  thinking too exclusively of the
immediate market-value of such commodities as honesty.
There  may be times and seasons when a little clever
deception, the adroit suppression of truth, the artifice of
throwing a false glamour over anything which does not
seem to  meet the requirements of  the  moment, appear
permissible.   Nevertheless the policy is short-sighted;
in the long run the surrender of principle brings occa-
sion for regret, and the finesse is seen to have  been a
blunder not less  than a  fault.   The simple-mindedness
which declines these expedients is the happiest and  most
excellent of qualities, and in the end earns the best and
the highest reward.
  Another form  and fruit of simple-mindedness is
thoroughness.   The character which  is  distinguished
by simplicity of purpose  suffers no loss of energy by the
scattering of efforts.  A steady gaze, a settled purpose,
an  unwavering earnestness,  a simple motive, will carry 
Simplicity.                   177
a man rapidly and pleasantly to his goal, and spare him
many troubles by the way.   Instead of being diverted
by the distractions and  misled  by the so-called tempta-
tions  that allure the loiterer  through  life, the simple-
minded  worker discharges his duty, and presses forward,
unaffected by the hindrances which  delay  less well-dis-
posed travelers.   Thoroughness is one of the priceless
qualities of character and work.   It enhances the value
of every achievement and gives tone to virtue.  Many
a bitter disappointment at  the end of a  career might
have been avoided by thoroughness at the outset and on
the way.   Thoroughness secures  a concentration of
power, so that whatever has been accomplished, however
small or great the sum of the work  may  be, is charac-
terized by  completeness ; and this, in itself, forms no
inconsiderable element of perfection.
  Men and women  are seldom, if ever thoroughly evil;
the more of  thoroughness there is  in  a  character, the
greater  is the probability that it  will be,  in the main,
good.  The earnestness that prompts a  mind  to  set all
its energies on a single object is  generally the expression
of a simple devotion to principle; and  the mere fact of
looking steadily at  an  object goes far to insure  a  wise
judgment as to  its real  value.  Anything  which  will
bear the scrutiny of an  earnest mind steadfastly  bent
upon it  as an object in  life is almost sure  to be worthy
of the time and  thought  bestowed upon it.  The thor-
oughness that sometimes seems to characterize the energy
of the evilly-disposed is an obstinacy which relates to an 
178
The  Secret of a Clear  Head.
object coveted rather than a  line of  conduct carefully
conceived and thoughtfully carried out.
  The converse of thoroughness is purity; and this too
is one of the striking  characteristics of simple-minded-
ness.   There is no admixture of false and true princi-
ples, because the heart is  pure in its affections, and the
mind clear and  straightforward  in its aims  and pur-
poses.   Impurity is  the  consequence of a mingling  of
interests.    Corruption begins at the  point  where the
sympathies commence to wander from a single object.
It may not be detected until the stream is  fouled, but it
is  at  work when  desire goes out in  a false  direction.
This is true of every form of inclination; and the wise
will be warned by  the  first  departure from  that sim-
plicity  of regard and purpose  which  concentrates  the
whole a  feeling, a passion, an  interest, on a  single ob-
ject.   No man can serve two masters, and no mind can
compass two  objects, the same  in nature, and claiming
the like service, without a sacrifice of purity of intention
and thought.
   The  estimate set  upon  simple or  single-mindedness
with  purity of purpose is not commensurate with its
value to the individual or to society.   National  charac-
ter is  the aggregate  of personal qualities, with some-
thing  superadded which grows out of association  and
the  mutual conformative  influence  of  opinions  and
policy.   If individual character is  uncultivated among
a people, the nation  cannot long be  distinctive or great.
If the tributary streams are polluted, the outfall will be 
Simplicity.
179
foul.   This is why it should be held to be  the  business
of the State, in the interests of public  morality, to pro-
vide  for  the religious  instruction of the masses, and
especially of the young.   It is, again,  a  potent ground
of appeal to the multitude, on the score of  good citizen-
ship, to cultivate  personal  integrity, in  all  its aspects
and bearings. > Simple-minded  honesty and  thorough-
ness will always  attach  high value to purity,  and  this
will in no small degree conduce to the development of
the virtue so esteemed.
   It follows from what has already been said that there is
a fourth prominent feature  of simplicity—individuality.
The man or woman who is  honest, thorough, and pure—
all of which elements of character are essentially personal
—must be individualized.   Nothing is so much  to be ap-
preciated in art or policy, in conduct or character, as this
quality when it springs from the strength of a personal
motive as contrasted with a mere affectation of eccentricity.
It has been the glory of art-work in the best periods that
each worker has left the mark  of his tool, the impress of
his individual manner and skill, on his  achievements.  It
is  the distinguishing trait of genuine excellence in all de-
scriptions of work that the result  bears  token of the per-
sonal labor bestowed in its accomplishment.
   This is strikingly true of  the self-culture which accrues
to simple-mindedness.  The individual thinks  and  acts
in obedience to an inner motive, and the momentum de-
rived from personal impulse carries him  clear  of much
that might otherwise mar his usefulness and deteriorate, 
180
The  Secret of a Clear  Head.
if it did  not destroy, his character.   Simple-mindedness
is a rare  safeguard against the leveling influences that all
must experience in their passage through life, and under
the  debilitating effect  of  which so  many too pliable
natures fall.   It seems to  set a fence about the moral
nature and protect it alike from assault and subjugation.
The sincerely simple-minded are neither offensively ego-
tistical nor too  independent, but, having a set purpose
and  a steady  gaze on  the way before  them, they are less
susceptible of general  impressions, and the quality that
individualizes, spares them  many a  mischief and much
disappointment and regret.
   Simple-mindedness is innocence  transmuted into an
active principle—ignorance  of, and insensibility to,  evil
—manifesting itself by a single-hearted  energy expend-
ing  itself upon what  is good.  There is an absence of
finesse, of cunning,  of low worldly  cleverness, and an
unhesitating   devotion  to  something that is  felt  and
known to  be right  and worthy.  It is  no reproach to
such characters to  say that they are  often, perhaps gen-
erally, found associated with minds occupied with  a
single  idea.   This is not an essential  consequence of the
quality ; but  in its highest development  simple-minded-
ness obeys the precept, " Whatsoever thy hand findeth
to do,  do it with thy might."   The labor may be varied,
the achievements manifold, but for  the  time  being the
one  object in view holds the gaze entranced, and the eye
does not wander, nor is  the spirit allowed to falter or
the  effort to  relax.   Simple-mindedness is  a virtue 
Simplicity.
181
 which  all  should cultivate, and  none more sedulously
 than the young and inexperienced.
   One-half the  failures  those who have  trodden  the
 longest part of their course look back upon and deplore
 may be justly ascribed to  the lack of this quality.   No
 amount of sagacity, no keenness of instinct,  no devotion
 to self-interest, can compensate for the want of a dispo-
 sition of heart and  intellect, a constitution of  mind and
 character, which is simply intent on an  object clearly
 discerned, and shapes its  conduct in life as though no
 other influence sought to distract attention  from the path
 of duty.  The purity that springs from simple-minded-
 ness has  the priceless gift of clear-sightedness, or what is
 of equal value in  life, faith in the ultimate triumph of
 right and  truth  and justice.   "To  the pure all  things
 are  pure,"  because  simplicity of  purpose pervades the
 whole field  of vision, and whatever is not comprehended
 in the scope of the pure intention  is disregarded.
  If there  be  a royal road  to happiness, the simple-
 minded find it, and the peace  and  contentment they par-
 ticipate is a boon which  the vexed and scheming adven-
 turer, however well meaning, is seldom privileged to enjoy.
 There is only one way in which genuine simplicity can be
 attained by those who would fain reap its advantages.  It
 is compounded of the three primary  qualities—honesty,
 thoroughness, and purity;  and these produce a fourth,
 individuality.  Those who would be simple-minded must
cultivate  these three virtues, and  they must  not  shrink
from  the  distinguishing characteristics produced. 
THE  SECRET OF A CLEAR HEAD.

   The lessons I tried to teach in the preceding papers,
rightly interpreted  and  intelligently  applied, will be
found to embody the principles of healthy brain action
and the secret of a clear head.
   1. A sensation of heat in  the  head, a burning fore-
head, a feeling of fulness and throbbing—for the relief
of which every known remedy, except the right one, is
commonly tried—constitutes  the  premonitory symptom
of dulness and confusion, the experience that alarms not
less than it embarrasses a worker.   If this  warning sen-
sation can be studied in the light of a general knowledge
of the nature  of heat, its mode of  production, the con-
ditions under which  the  temperature of an organ rises
or falls, aud by what measures it may be most readily
reduced, the sufferer will obtain important assistance in
the task of health-preservation, in regard to which alone
I am desirous of helping him.
   2. From the study of habit the reader will  learn to
set a true value  on such  expertness or " cleverness " as
may be acquired by practice.   He will perceive that it
is neither a wise nor a safe policy to trust everything to
habit; that the sort of clear-headedness which consists in
delegating the bulk of a task to the faculty of automatic
work, thereby leaving the attention free to make a show
of doing  two things  at once—a popular and imposing
                         182 
The  Secret of a Clear  Head.         183
feat of cleverness—is not a great achievement dr an ex-
ample to be emulated.  He will recognize the fallacy of
the belief that " everything depends on method," adopt-
ing  this  term  in  its conventional  sense.   There  is
method in madness, and the most methodical  mind may
come to be the feeblest by shuffling every responsibility
and  difficulty on to shoulders of habit in  business, and
dissipating the power of the will by making it the idle
and  purposeless minister of pastime and leisure.  The
will  must be strong in action and retain its grasp of the
business of life, directing  the  mental faculties  in  their
discharge of duty, giving steadiness to the eye, acute-
ness to the ear, precision to the hand, or the  mind may
be disorganized, the mental and actual vision confounded,
the subjective sense of hearing disassociated from the
impressions of sound, and the creature of habit find to
his cost that  the  faculty he  has too implicitly trusted
with his affairs has turned upon him  like a false friend
or a fiend.
   3. Nothing  so much tends to mental  disquietude as
false estimates of time.  A true measuring of the mo-
ments as they pass, a fair retrospect along  the track of
life and a clear, far-sighted  sweep of the horizon are
essentials  of a clear head.   I have enjdeavored to  show
how it  is  time, past^  present, or future, seems long or
short, fleet or  leaden-footed, as we regard it from differ-
ent standpoints and in divers  moods.   The sketch of
this  interesting subject is simply  suggestive, but if it
should set the mind on the right  track it will  not be 
184
The Secret of a Clear Head.
valueless.   However that may be, the subject  of time-
measuring  is  in a very obvious sense germane  to  the
secret of a clear head.
   4. The  like is  true of pleasure.  Little or  no good
work can be accomplished unless  the  laborer  has some
measure of enjoyment in his task.  It is well that he
should  understand the philosophy of pleasure.   With a
view to direct the mind to this inquiry I have thrown
out a few hints.
   5.  Self-importance may range from the extreme of
 vanity  to  that bare appreciation of self which makes
 life tolerable.  The lesson  of the review I  have  at-
 tempted should be that the safe and desirable develop-
 ment of self-consciousness in respect to capacity, merit,
 and worth, is  that which  neither depreciates too much
 for  self-respect and confidence, nor inflates  the mind
 with an  over-weening sense of being somebody;  per-
 haps on  no  more solid  ground  than the accident of
 having done something which could not  be repeated, or
 achieved a position which cannot be retained.
   6. Consistency, as I have endeavored to convince the
 reader, is  a  quality of the  character which  must be
 wholly natural to be of value, and can  never be made
an object.
   7.  Simplicity of aim and single-mindedness in conduct
and policy are among the chief indications of  clearness
in head-work.  To do one thing at  a time,  and that
thoroughly, is a  most important element of the secret
we are  trying to master. 
The  Secret of a Clear  Head.
185
  Simplicity, or single-mindedness, implies and  com-
prises integrity of purpose, thoroughness, directness of
aim, earnestness, and individuality—which are the car-
dinal elements  of " clearness" as applied to brain  or
head-work.
  To apply the principles  I have  endeavored to ex-
pound is to  do all man can do to insure that greatest of
personal qualifications for a useful and  happy life,  a
sound and  clear head.  The motives and  guiding con-
siderations which  should inspire and control  the  effort
to attain  this  boon compose the secret I  have tried  to
help the reader to find.
        TRENTON, N. J. :
Wm. S. Sharp, Printer and Stereotyper.
        21 West State Street. 
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A TREATISE  ON  HERNIA.

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