The Anatomy of Melancholy

——The boatman and the traveller, drenched in sour wine, Sing of their absent sweethearts.

Who, unless accustomed to such noises, can sleep among them? Anyone intending to rest must go to bed “with a mind at ease, quiet and free”—with a secure and composed mind, in a quiet place: “All things of the night will be settled in peaceful rest.” If that does not suffice, or cannot be obtained, he must seek whatever further means are needed.

He should lie in clean, sweet-smelling linen; before going to bed, or in bed, hear sweet music, which Ficino recommends in book 1, chapter 24. Or, as Joubert says in Medical Practice, book 3, chapter 10, he should read some pleasant author until he falls asleep, or have water continually dripping into a basin beside his bed. He might lie near the pleasant murmur “of gently sounding water”: sluices, arches, waterfalls, as at London Bridge, or some continuous noise that may numb the senses. “Gentle motion, silence and darkness, and even the will itself, bring sleep.”

As a gentle noise brings sleep to some, so, as Bernardino Telesio rightly observes in his book On Sleep, silence in a dark room, and the will itself, are most effective for others. Piso recommends rubbing the body; Andrew Boorde, a good draught of strong drink before bed. I suggest a nutmeg and ale, or a good draught of muscadine with toast and nutmeg, or a posset made from it. Many take these in the morning, but I think them much more suitable at night for those with dry brains.

Some prescribe a sip of vinegar at bedtime—a spoonful, says Aëtius, Tetrabiblos, book 2, section 2, chapter 10; book 6, chapter 10. Paul of Aegina, book 3, chapter 14, and Piso recommend it a little after food, “because it thins the melancholic humour and creates a desire for sleep.” Donato Antonio Altomare, chapter 7, and Mercurialis approve it if the disorder proceeds from the spleen. Sallustius Salvianus, On Remedies, book 2, chapter 1; Hercules de Saxonia, in Pan.; and Aelianus Montalto, On Diseases of the Head, chapter 28, on melancholy, oppose it altogether. Luis Mercado, On the Causes of Internal Diseases, book 1, chapter 17, allows it in some cases.

Rhazes seems undecided about it: though Simeon recommends it in sauce, perhaps, he still questions it. As for baths, warm applications, oils, potions, and single or compound medicines taken internally for this purpose, I shall discuss them elsewhere. If people lie awake in the middle of the night, as they commonly do, tossing and turning without sleep, Rantzau would have them, in warm weather, rise and walk three or four times around the room until they are cool, then go to bed again.

Against frightening and troublesome dreams, the nightmare, and similar troubles that afflict melancholy people, the best remedy is a light supper of easily digested foods, without hare, venison, beef, and the like; not lying on the back; not dwelling during the day on anything terrifying; and especially not talking of such things before bed.