By J. MORTIMER GRANVILLE.
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 essentially morbid,
attacks individuals who are not naturally disposed to despondency,
and gives so many unmistakable 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 development, is a setting in the minor
key rather than depression. Within the compass of a lower range,
individuals 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 centered 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 attention, 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 considerable 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 which 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 instant succor. If the cause were found at such a moment,
nothing could be done to prevent its further mischief. Supposing it to
be discovered that the malady is the fruit of some evil-doing or wrong
management of self, the moment when a crushed spirit is undergoing
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
dejection 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 the 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
depression which it has replaced. There is no certain indication 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 enterprise, a congenial
task—at the moment which immediately 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, 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 earnestly desired
to rescue the sufferer, the right method must be pursued, and wrong
and mischief-working procedures—among which preaching, persuading,
moralizing, 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 collapse, and this can
be accomplished only by obviating the unhealthy excitement by which it
is commonly preceded and produced. Healthy activity promotes nutrition,
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 prevent normal function.