The Anatomy of Melancholy

If they cannot otherwise become accustomed to bearing such distasteful and unpleasant things, the best course is generally to avoid them. In consultation 229, Montanus advises the Earl of Montfort, a courtier and his melancholy patient, to leave court because of its continual discontents, setbacks, insults, cares, suspicions, rivalries, ambition, anger, and jealousy—the very things that had surely made him melancholy in the first place. “Every great house is full of arrogant servants.”

A crowd of scoffers and arrogant fellows commonly frequent and attend such places. Once they begin playing upon a gentle, quiet man’s peculiarities, they can turn him “from a fool into a madman”—as they often do—make him an utter simpleton or drive him completely mad. This is all too common in social groups: they can find no better amusement than to entertain themselves by tormenting some simple fellow or taking advantage of another man’s weakness.

In such cases, as in a plague, the best remedy is “quickly, far away, slowly”: get him away quickly, send him far enough off, and do not let him hurry back. For such a person, especially if he is sensitive to what is happening, there can be no greater misery. If he is too uncomprehending to recognize it, his friends should arrange matters and use their judgement to supply what he lacks, as they should in every other case.

If they see a man inclined to melancholy, solitary and averse to company, pleasing himself with these private, empty meditations, they should try by every means to divert and discourage him, however much he enjoys them, and tell him what consequences and dangers may follow. If they see an idle man who, because he has an independent income, will take up no occupation, they should seriously warn him that he is making a noose to ensnare himself: his lack of employment will be his undoing.

If he has sustained a great loss, suffered rejection or disgrace, or the like, relieve him if possible. If he wants something, satisfy him; if he is in uncertainty, fear, or suspicion, reassure him. Where it can reasonably be done, give him his heart’s desire, for the body cannot be cured until the mind is at ease. In Plato, Socrates would prescribe no medicine for Charmides’ headache until he had first eased his troubled mind: body and soul must be cured together, just as head and eyes must.

You will not cure the eye without the whole head, Nor the head without the whole body, Nor the whole body without the soul.

If that cannot be hoped for or expected, still give him relief through comfort, cheerful conversation, encouraging promises, and kind words; persuade and advise him. Many, says Galen, have been cured by good counsel and persuasion alone. “Heaviness in a person’s heart brings it down, but a good word gladdens it,” Proverbs 12:25. And there is one “whose words stab like a sword, but the tongue of a wise person brings healing,” verse 18.