 Section 52 of the Anatomy of Mellon Collie, Volume 1. The Anatomy of Mellon Collie, Volume 1 by Robert Burton, Section 52. Partition 1, Section 3, Member 3. The Anatomy of Mellon Collie, Volume 1 by Robert Burton, Section 53. To give some satisfaction to Mellon Collie men that are troubled with these symptoms, a better means in my judgment cannot be taken than to show them the causes whence they proceed, not from devils as they suppose, or that they are bewitched or forsaken of God, here or see, etc., as many of them think, but from natural and inward causes, that so knowing them, they may better avoid the effects, or at least endure them with more patience. The most grievous and common symptoms are fear and sorrow, and that without a cause to the wisest and discretest men in this malady not to be avoided. The reason why they are so, Aetius discusses at large, Tetrabiblos II, in his first problem out of Galen, Book 2, Decausi's Symptometum 1, for Galen imputeth all to the cold that is black, and thinks that the spirit's been darkened, and the substance of the brain, cloudy and dark, all the objects thereof appear terrible, and the mind itself, by those dark, obscure, gross fumes, ascending from black humours, is in continual darkness fear and sorrow, diverse, terrible, monstrous fictions in a thousand shapes and apparitions occur with violent passions, by which the brain and fantasy are troubled and eclipsed. Fracastorius, Book 2, De Intellectione, will have cold to be the cause of fear and sorrow, for such as are cold are ill-disposed to mirth, dull, heavy, by nature solitary, silent, and not for any inward darkness, as physicians think, for many melancholy men dare boldly be, continue, and walk in the dark, and delight in it. Solemn frigiddy, timiddy, if they be hot they are merry, and the more hot the more furious and void of fear, as we see in madmen, but this reason holds not, for then no melancholy proceeding from Colla Adast should fear. Averoes scoffs at Galen for his reasons, and brings five arguments to repel them. So doth Hercules de Saxonia tractatus de melancholia perfectisimus, Chapter 3, assigning other causes which are copiously censured and confuted by Aelianus Montaltus, Chapter 5 and 6, Dode Vecris mercatus, Altomarus, Guanerius, Bright, Laurentius, Valesius. This temperature, they conclude, makes black juice, blackness obscures the spirits, the spirits obscured cause fear and sorrow, Laurentius, Chapter 13, supposeth these black fumes offend specially the diaphragma or midriff, and so, per consequence, the mind, which is obscured as the sun by a cloud. To this opinion of Galen, almost all the Greeks and Arabians subscribe, the Latins new and old, in Terni, Tenebrae or Fuscant animum, or Teksterni nocent pueris, as children are affrighted in the dark, so are melancholy men at all times, as having the inward cause with them, and still carrying it about. Such black vapours, whether they proceed from the black blood about the heart, as Thomas Wright Jesuit thinks in his treatise of the passions of the mind, or stomach, spleen, midriff or all the misaffected parts together, it boots not, they keep the mind in a perpetual dungeon and oppress it with continual fears, anxieties, sorrows, etc. It is an ordinary thing for such as our sound to laugh at this dejected pusillanimity and those other symptoms of melancholy to make themselves merry with them, and to wonder at such as toys and trifles which may be resisted and withstood if they will themselves, but let him, that so wonders, consider with himself, that if a man should tell him on a sudden, some of his especial friends were dead, could he choose but grieve, or set him upon a steep rock, where he should be in danger to be precipitated, could he be secure, his heart would tremble with fear, and his head be giddy. P. Bayaras gives instance, as I have said, and put case, saith he, in one that walks upon a plank, if it lie upon the ground, he can safely do it, but if the same plank be laid over some deep water, instead of a bridge, he is vehemently moved, and is nothing but his imagination, form a cadendi impresa, to which his other members and faculties obey. Yea, but you infer that such men have a just cause to fear, a true object to fear, so have melancholy men an inward cause, a perpetual fume and darkness, causing fear, grief, suspicion, which they carry with them, an object which cannot be removed, but sticks as close and is as inseparable as a shadow to a body, and who can expel or overrun his shadow. Remove heat of the liver, a cold stomach, weak spleen, remove those addust humours and vapours arising from them, black blood from the heart, all outward perturbations, take away the cause, and then bid them not grieve nor fear, or be heavy, dull, lumpish, otherwise counsel can do little good, you may as well bid him that is sick of an ague, not to be a dry, or him that is wounded, not to feel pain. Fume follows fear and sorrow at heels, arising out of the same fountain, so thinks Fracastorius, that fear is the cause of suspicion, and still they suspect some treachery, or some secret machination to be framed against them, still they distrust. Restlessness proceeds from the same spring, variety of fumes make them like and dislike, solitariness, avoiding of light, they that are weary of their lives, hate the world, devise from the same causes, for their spirits and humours are opposite to light. Fear makes them avoid company, and upset themselves, lest they should be misused, hissed at, or overshoot themselves, which still they suspect. They are prone to venary by reason of wind, angry, waspish, and fretting still, out of abundance of collar, which causeth fearful dreams, and violent perturbations to them, both sleeping and waking. They that suppose they have no heads, fly, sink, they are pots, glasses, etc., is wind in their heads. Hercules de Saxonia doth ascribe this to the several motions in the animal spirits, their dilation, contraction, confusion, alteration, tenebrosity, hot or cold, distemperature, excluding all material humours. Fracastorius accounts it a thing worthy of inquisition, why they should entertain such false conceits, as they that have horns, great noses, that they are birds, beasts, etc., why they should think themselves kings, lords, cardinals. For the first Fracastorius gives two reasons. One is the disposition of the body, the other the occasion of the fantasy, as if their eyes be perblind, their ears sing, by reason of some cold and room, etc. To the second Laurentius answers, the imagination inwardly or outwardly moved, represents to the understanding, not enticements only, to favour the passion or dislike, but a very intensive pleasure follows the passion or displeasure, and the will and reason are captivated by delighting in it. Why students and lovers are so often melancholy and mad. The philosopher of Coimbra assigns this reason, because by vehement and continual meditation of that wherewith they are affected, they fetch up the spirits into the brain, and with the heat brought with them, they incend it beyond measure, and the cells of the inner senses dissolve their temperature, which, being dissolved, they cannot perform their offices as they ought. Why melancholy men are witty, which Aristotle has long since maintained in his problems, and that all learned men, famous philosophers and law-givers, ad unum ferre omnes melancholici, have still been melancholy, is a problem much contraverted. Jason Prattensis will have it understood of natural melancholy, which opinion Melanchthon inclines to in his book De anima, and Marchilius vicinus de sanitati tuenda, book 1, chapter 5, but not simple, for that makes men stupid, heavy, dull, being cold and dry, fearful, falls, and solitary, but mixed with the other humours, Flem only accepted, and they not ad dust, but so mixed as that blood be half, with little or no adustion, that they be neither too hot nor too cold. Aponensis, cited by Melanchthon, thinks it precedes from melancholy adust, excluding all natural melancholy as too cold. Laurentius condemns his tenet, because a dustion of humours makes men mad, as lime burns when water is cast on it. It must be mixed with blood, and somewhat adust, and so that old aphorism of Aristotle may be verified, nulum magnum ingenium, cinemix dura dementii, no excellent wit, without a mixture of madness. Fracastorius shall decide the controversy, phlegmatic adul, sanguine, lively, pleasant, acceptable, and merry, but not witty, choloric are too swift in action, and furious, impatient of contemplation, deceitful wits, melancholy men have the most excellent wits, but not all. This humour may be hot, or cold, thick, or thin, if too hot they are furious and mad, if too cold, dull, stupid, dimorous, and sad, if temperate, excellent, rather inclining to that extreme of heat than cold. This sentence of his will agree with that of Heraclitus, a dry light makes a wise mind. Temperate heat and dryness are the chief causes of a good wit, therefore, saith Ilien, an elephant is the wisest of all brute beasts, because his brain is driest, et ob archi bilis capiam. This reason Cardin approves, Johannis Baptista Silvaticus, a physician of Milan, in his first controversy, hath copiously handled this question, Rulandus in his problems, Valeriola, Hercules de Saxonia, Lodovicus Mercatus, Baptista Porta, and many others. Weeping, sighing, laughing, itching, trembling, sweating, blushing, hearing and seeing strange noises, visions, wind, crudity, are motions of the body, depending upon these precedent motions of the mind, neither are tears, affections, but actions, as Scaliga holds. The voice of such as art afraid trembles, because the heart is shaken, while they stutter or falter in their speech Mercurialis and Montautus give like reasons out of Hippocrates dryness which makes the nerves of the tongue torpid. Fast speaking, which is a symptom of some, iteus will have caused from abundance of wind and swiftness of imagination, boldness comes from excess of dryness, a suitness from a dry temperature. The cause of much waking in a dry brain, continual meditation, discontent, fears and cares that suffer not the mind to be at rest, incontinency is from wind, and a hot liver, Montautus. Rumbling in the guts is caused from wind, and wind from ill concoction, weakness of natural heat, or a distempered heat and cold, palpitation of the heart from vapours, heaviness and aching from the same cause, that the belly is hard, wind is a cause, and of that leaping in many parts, redness of the face and itching as if they were flea-bitten or stung with pismas from a sharp, subtle wind. Cold sweat from vapours arising from the hypochondries which pitch upon the skin, leanness for want of good nourishment, while their appetite is so great, Ithius answers, O sweatress fligescate, cold in those inner parts, cold belly and hot liver, causeth crudity and intention precedes from perturbations, our souls for want of spirits cannot attend exactly to so many intensive operations, being exhaust and over-swayed by passion, he cannot consider the reasons which may dissuade her from such affections. Bashfulness and blushing is a passion proper to men alone, and is not only caused for some shame and ignominy, or that they are guilty unto themselves of some foul fact committed, but as fracastorious well determines, obdefectum proprium etimorem, from fear and a conceit of our defects, the face labours and is troubled at his presence that sees our defects, and nature willing to help, sends thither heat, heat draws the subtlest blood, and so we blush, they that are bold, arrogant and careless seldom will never blush, but such as are fearful. Antonius Lodovicus in his book de pudore will have this subtle blood to arise in the face, not so much for the reverence of our betters in presence, but for joy and pleasure, or if anything had unawares shall pass from us, a sudden accident, a curse or meeting. Which Desarius in Macrobius confirms any object heard or seen for blind men never blush, as Dandinus observes the night and darkness make men impudent, or that we be staid before our betters, or in company we like not, or if anything molest and offend us, Erubes Gentia turns to rubor, blushing to a continuit redness. Sometimes the extremity of the ears tingle and are red, sometimes the whole face, etsy nihil witty osum comiseres, as Lodovicus holds. Though Aristotle is of opinion, omnis pudor ex witty o comiso, all shame for some offence, but we find otherwise it may as well proceed from fear, from force, and inexperience. So Dandinus holds, as vice, a hot liver saith duratus, notice in holerium, from a hot brain, from wind, the lungs heated, or after drinking of wine, strong drink, perturbations, et cetera. Laughter, what it is, saith Tully, how caused, where, and so suddenly breaks out, that desirous to stay it, we cannot, how it comes to possess and stir our face, veins, eyes, countenance, mouth, sides, let democratus determine. The cause that it often affects melancholy men so much is given by Gomesius, abundance of pleasant vapours, which, in sanguine melancholy especially, break from the heart and tickle the midriff, because it is transverse and full of nerves, by which titillation, the sense being moved, and after is distended or pulled, the spirits from thence move and possess the sides, veins, countenance, eyes. See more in Jossius de visu et fletu, bevaze, book three, de anima, tears, as Scaliga defines, proceed from grief and pity, or from the heating of a moist brain, for a dry cannot weep. That they see and hear so many phantasms, chimeras, noises, visions, et cetera, as Fienus has disgorced at large in his book of imagination, and Lavater, Despectris, part one, chapters two, three, four, their corrupt fantasy makes them see and hear, that which indeed is neither heard nor seen. Quimultum ye unant, out noctes dulcunt insomnes, they that much fast or want sleep as melancholy or sick men commonly do, see visions, or such as are weak-sighted, very timorous by nature, mad, distracted, or earnestly seek, sabine equad volunt somniant, as the saying is, they dream of that they desire. Like Salmiento, the Spaniard, who, when he was sent to discover the Straits of Magellan, and confined places, by the pro-Rex of Peru, standing on the top of a hill, aminissim amplanitiem despecressibi visus fuit, idificia magnifica, quan plurimos pagos, aliastores splendida templa, and brave cities built like ours in Europe, not, saith my norther, that there was any such thing, but that he was wanissimus et nimis credurus, and would fain have had it so. Or, as Lodovicus Mercatus proves, by reason of inward vapours and humours from blood, cola, etc., diversely mixed, they apprehend and see outwardly, as they suppose, diverse images which indeed are not. As they that drink wine think all runs round, when it is their own brain, so it is with these men, the fault and cause is inward, as Gallina firms. Mad men and such, as are near death, quas extra sei widere putant imagines intraoculus habent. Tears in their brains, which seems to be before them, the brain as a concave glass reflects solid bodies, senes etiam decrepiti, carebrum habent concavum et alidum, ut imagin entor sei widere, seith poissados, quae nonsunt. Old men are too frequently mistaken and don't in like cases, or as he that looketh through a piece of red glass, judges everything he sees to be red, corrupt vapours mounting from the body to the head and distilling again from thence to the eyes, when they have mingled themselves with the watery crystals, which receiveeth the shadows of things to be seen, make all things appear of the same colour, which remains in the humour that overspreads our sight, as to melancholy men all is black, too phlegmatic all white, etc., or else as before the organs corrupt by corrupt fantasy, as Lemneus, Book 1, Chapter 16, well quotes, cause a great agitation of spirits and humours which wander to and fro in all the creaks of the brain, and cause such apparitions before their eyes. One thinks he reads something written in the moon, as Pythagoras is said to have done of old, another smells brimstone, here's Cerberus bark, Orestes now mad, suppose he saw the furies tormenting him, and his mother, still ready to run upon him, O Mater, obsecronolime persequi, his furi is, aspecto anguine is, horribilibus, ecche ecche main wadunt, in me jamruunt. But Electra told him, thus raving, in his mad fit, he saw no such sights at all, it was but his crazed imagination. Quiesce, quiesce miser in lintes tuis, non cernis etanim quai widere te putas. So Pentheus, in Bacchus, El Ripidis, saw two sons, two Thebes, his brain alone was troubled. Sickness is an ordinary cause of such sights. Cardan, Men's Igaralab boribus et ye unis fracta, fac it eus widere, audire, et cetera. And Ocyanda beheld strange visions, and Alexander ab Alexandru, both in their sickness, which he relates Deirerum varietate, book 8, chapter 44, albategneus, that noble Arabian, on his deathbed, saw a ship ascending and descending, which fracistorius records of his friend Baptista Tirianus. Weak sight and a vain persuasion with all may affect as much, and second cause is concurring, as an ore in water makes a refraction, and seems bigger, bendy double, et cetera. The thickness of the air may cause such effects, and any object not well discerned in the dark, fear and fantasy will suspect to be a ghost, a devil, et cetera. Quod nimis miseritiment Hock facile credent. We are apt to believe and mistake in such cases. Marcellus Donatus, book 2, chapter 1, brings in a story out of Aristotle, of one Antifaulon, which likely saw, wheresoever he was, his own image in the air, as in a glass. Vitaleo has such another instance of a familiar acquaintance of his, that, after the want of three or four nights sleep, as he was riding by a riverside, saw another riding with him, and using all such gestures as he did, but when more light appeared, it vanished. Eremites and Ancorites have frequently such absurd visions, revelations by reason of much fasting and bad diet. Many are deceived by Leche-de-Mar, as Scott hath well showed in his book of the Discovery of Witchcraft. Ancardon suffites perfumes, suffumigations, mixed candles, perspective glasses, and such natural causes, make men look as if they were dead, all with horses heads, bulls horns, and such like brutish shapes, the room full of snakes, adders, dark, light, green, red, of all colors, as you may perceive in Battista Porta, Alexis Albertus, and others. Glow worms, fire-drates, meteors, igneous fatuous, which Plinius, book two, chapter thirty-seven, calls Castor and Pollux, with many such that appear in Moorish grounds, about church-yards, moist valleys, or where battles have been fought, the causes of which read in Goklenius, Velouris, Vicus, etc. Such fears are often done to frighten children with squibs, rotten wood, etc., to make folks look as if they were dead, solitum maiores, bigger, lesser, fairer, fowler, uttastante sinnecapitibus wediantur, altorti igniti, altforma dimonum, echipe pilus canis, nigri, etc., saith Albertus. And so it is ordinary to see strange uncouth sights by Catoctrix, who knows not that if in a dark room the light be admitted at one only little hole, and a paper or glass put upon it, the sun shining will represent on the opposite wall all such objects as are illuminated by his rays. With concave and cylinder-glasses we may reflect any shape of men, devils, antics, as magicians most part do to gull a silly spectator in a dark room. We will ourselves, and that hanging in the air, when tis nothing but such an horrible image as a gripper demonstrates placed in another room. Roger Bacon of old is said to have represented his own image walking in the air by this art, though no such thing appear in his perspectives. But most part it is in the brain that deceives them, although I may not deny, but that often times the devil deludes them, taking his opportunity to suggest and represent vain objects to melancholy men, and such as are ill-affected. To these you may add the naivish imposters of jugglers, exorcists, mass priests, and mountie-banks, of whom Roger Bacon speaks, etc., De Miracolis Naturai et Artis, Chapter 1. They can counterfeit the voices of all birds and brute beasts almost, all tones and tunes of men, and speak within their throats, as if they spoke afar off. That they make their auditors believe they hear spirits, and are thence much astonished and affrighted with it. Besides those artificial devices to overhear their confessions, like that whispering place of Gloucester with us, or like the duke's place at Mantua in Italy, where the sound is reverberated by a concave wall, a reason of which Blancarnus in his Ecometria gives and mathematically demonstrates. So that the hearing is as frequently deluded as the sight, from the same causes almost, as he that hears bells will make them sound what he lists. As the fool thinketh, so the bell clinketh. Theophilus in Galen thought he heard music from vapours which made his ears sound, etc. Some are deceived by echoes, some by roaring of waters, or concaves and reverberations of air in the ground, below places and walls. At Cadurcom in Aquitaine words and sentences are repeated by a strange echo to the fool, or whatsoever you shall play upon a musical instrument more distinctly and louder than they are spoken at first. Some echoes repeat a thing spoken seven times as at Olympus in Macedonia as Pliny relates, book 36, chapter 15. Some twelve times as at Charonton, a village near Paris in France. A Delphos in Greece, here too far, was a miraculous echo and so in many other places. Cardon hath wonderful stories of such as have been deluded by these echoes. Blancarnus, the Jesuit in his Ecometria, hath variety of examples and gives his reader full satisfaction of all such sounds by way of demonstration. At Barry, an isle in the Seventh Mouth, they seem to hear a smith's forge, so at Lipali and those sulphurious isles and many such like, which I'll now speak of in the Continent of Scandia and those northern countries. Cardon mentioneth a woman that still supposed she heard the devil call her and speaking to her. She was a painter's wife in Milan and many such illusions and voices, which proceed most part from a corrupt imagination. When it comes to past that they prophesy, speak several languages, talk of astronomy and other unknown sciences to them of which they have been ever ignorant, I have in brief touched. Only this I will hear add, that Arculano's Bodin, Libertres, Capotex, Dimonia and some others, hold as a manifest token that such persons are possessed with the devil, so doth Hercules de Saxonia and Aponensis and fit only to be cured by a priest. But Guanerius Montautus, Pompoliatius of Padua and Lemnius, Book II, Chapter II refer it wholly to the ill disposition of the humour and that out of the authority of Aristotle, because such symptoms are cured by purging. And, as by the striking of a flint, fire is enforced, so by the vehement motion of spirits, they do eliquere wilkes inalditas, compel strange speeches to be spoken. Another argument he hath from Plato's reminiscentia, which is all out as likely as that which Marsilius Fikinus speaks of his friend Pierleonus, by a divine kind of infusion he understood the secrets of nature and tenets of Grecian and Barbarian philosophers before ever he had heard of, saw or read their works. But in this I should rather hold with Abyssinia and his associates that such symptoms proceed from evil spirits, which take all opportunities of humour's decayed or otherwise to pervert the soul of man. And besides, the humour itself is Balneum Diaboli, the devil's bath, and as a grip approves, doth entice him to seize upon them. End of Section 52 Section 53 of The Anatomy of Melancholy, Volume 1 This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For further information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. The Anatomy of Melancholy, Volume 1 by Robert Burton, Section 53 Partition 1, Section 4 Prognostics of Melancholy Prognostics or signs of things to come are either good or bad. If this malady be not hereditary and taken at the beginning, there is good hope of cure, Rechenes curationem, nonhabit deficulem, seith Abyssinia. That which is with laughter, of all others, is most secure, gentle and remiss, Hercules de Saxonia. If that evacuation of hemorrhoids, or varices, which they call the water between the skin, shall happen to a Melancholy man, his misery is ended. Hippocrates, aphorisms. 6, 11. Galled, Book 6. De Morbis vulgaribus. 8 confirms the same. And to this aphorism of Hippocrates, all the Arabians, new and old Latins, subscribe. Montaltus, Hercules de Saxonia, Mercuralis, Vittorius Faventinas, etc. Skankius illustrates this aphorism with an example of one Daniel Fadera, a coppersmith that was long Melancholy, and in the end mad about the twenty-seventh year of his age. These varices or water began to arise in his thighs, and he was freed from his madness. Marius the Roman was so cured, some say, though with great pain, Skankius had some other instances of women that have been helped by flowing of their mouths, which before were stopped. That the opening of the hemorrhoids will do as much for men, all physicians jointly signify, so they be voluntary, some say, and not by compulsion. All Melancholy are better after a quatern. Yorbertus saith, scarce any man hath that ague twice. But whether it free him from his malady, tis a question, for many physicians ascribe all long agues for his special causes, and a quatern ague amongst the rest. Rassus continuens liber unus noem, when Melancholy gets out at the superficies of the skin, or settles, breaking out in scabs, leprosy morphu, or is purged by stools, or by the urine, or that the spleen is enlarged, and those varices appear, the disease is dissolved. Guanerius, chapter 5, tractatus 15, adds dropsy, jaundice, dysentery, leprosy, as good signs, to these scabs, morphu, and breaking out, and proves it out of the sixth of Hippocrates' aphorisms. Evil prognostics on the other part, inveterata, menancholia, incurabilis, if it be inveterate, it is incurable, a common axiom, out difficulter curabilis, as they say that night the best, hardly cured. This Gallen witnesses, book 3, De Locis Affectis, chapter 6, be it in whom it will, or from what cause soever, it is ever long, wayward, tedious, and hard to be cured, if once it be habituated. As Lucian said of the gout, she was the queen of diseases and inexorable, may we say, of melancholy. Yet Paracelsus will have all diseases whatsoever, curable, and laugh at them which think otherwise, as Tearastus objects to him, although in another place, hereditary diseases he accounts incurable, and by no art to be removed. Hildersheim holds it less dangerous, if only imagination be hurt, and not reason, the gentlest is from blood, worse from Colla Adost, but the worst of all from melancholy putrified. Brul esteems hypochondriacal, least dangerous, and the other two species, opposite to Gallen, hardest to be cured. The cure is hard in man, but much more difficult in women, and both men and women must take notice of that saying of Montanus, Pro Abarte Italo, this maladie doth commonly accompany them to their grave. Physicians may ease, and it may lie hid for a time, but they cannot quite cure it, but it will return again more violent and sharp than at first, and that upon every small occasion or error, as in Mercury's weather-beaten statue, that was once all over guilt, the open parts were clean, yet there was in Fimbriis Aorum, in the chinks a remnant of gold. There will be some relics of melancholy left in the purest bodies, if once tainted, not so easily to be rooted out. Oftentimes, it degenerates into epilepsy, apoplexy, confulsions, and blindness, by the authority of Hippocrates and Gallen, all of her, if once it possesses the ventricles of the brain, Frambisarius and Salist. Salvianus adds, if it gets into the optic nerves, blindness. Mercurialis had a woman to his patient, that from melancholy became epileptic and blind. If it come from a cold cause, or so continue cold, or increase epilepsy, convulsions follow and blindness, or else in the end they are moped, sottish, and in all their actions, speeches and gestures, ridiculous. If it come from a hot cause, they are more furious and boisterous, and in conclusion, mad. Carescente melancholyam sipius sequitur mania. If it heat and increase, that is the common event. Perchircuitus outsemper insanit. He is mad by fits, or altogether. For as Cenertus contains, out of Crato, there is Seminarius ignis in this humour, the very seeds of fire. If it come from melancholy, natural adust, and in excess, they are often demoniacal, montanus. Seldom this malady procures death, except, which is the greatest, most grievous calamity, and the misery of all miseries, they make away themselves, which is a frequent thing, and familiar amongst them. Tis Hippocrates' observation, Galen's sentence, et si mortem timent, tamen pleurum que si biipsis mortem conscuscunt. Book 3 De Locis Affectis, Chapter 7, The Doom of All Physicians. Tis Rabbi Moses' aphorism, the prognosticon of Avicenna, Rasis, Aetius, Cordonius, Valescus, Altomarus, Salus, Salvianus, Capivacius, Mercatus, Hercules de Saxonia, Piso, Bruul, Fuchsius, All, et cetera. Et sipe usque adio mortis formidine vitae, percippit in phaelix odium lucisque widendai, ut si bi conscuscat mai renti pector eleithum. And so far forth death's terror doth affrite, he makes away himself, and hates the light, to make an end of fear and grief of heart, he voluntary dies to ease his smart. In such sort doth the torture and extremity of his misery torment him, that he can take no pleasure in his life, but he is in a manner enforced to offer violence unto himself, to be freed from his present insufferable pains. So some sayeth Francastorius in fury, but most in despair, sorrow, fear, and out of the anguish and vexation of their souls, offer violence to themselves, for their life is unhappy and miserable. They can take no rest in the night, nor sleep, or if they do slumber, fearful dreams astonish them. In the daytime they are affrighted still by some terrible object, and torn in pieces with suspicion, fear, sorrow, discontents, cares, shame, anguish etc., as so many wild horses, that they cannot be quite an hour, a minute of time. But even against their wills they are intent, and still thinking of it. They cannot forget it, it grinds their souls day and night. They are perpetually tormented, a burden to themselves, as Job was. They can neither eat, drink, or sleep. Psalm 107, 18. Their soul abhoreth all meat, and they are brought to death's door, being bound in misery and iron. They curse their stars with Job, and day of their birth, and wish for death. For as Pineda, and most interpreters hold, Job was even melancholy to despair, and almost madness itself. They murmur many times against the world, friends, allies, all mankind, even against God himself, in the bitterness of their passion. We were a nollunt, mori nesciunt. Live they will not, die they cannot. And in the midst of these squalid, ugly, and such irksome days, they seek at last, finding no comfort, no remedy, in this wretched life, to be eased of all by death. Omnia appetunt bonum. All creatures seek the best, and for their good, as they hope, subspecchie, in show at least, well quia mori pulcrum putant. Seith Hippocrates, well quia putant inde se maioribus malis liberare, to be freed as they wish. Though many times, as he subspecies, they leap from the frying pan into the fire itself, yet they hope to be eased by this means. And therefore, Seith Felix Platerus, after many tedious days at last, either by drowning, hanging, or some such fearful end, they precipitate, or make away, themselves. Many lamentable examples are daily seen amongst us. Allius ante, for est se l'acquio suspendit, as Seneca notes. Allius se pracipitawit a tecto, ne dominums doma kentem audiret. Allius ne reducerator a fuga ferum redigit in whiskira. One hangs himself before his own door. Another throws himself from the housetop, to avoid his master's anger. A third, to escape expulsion, plunges a dagger into his heart. So many causes there are. His amorexitio est furor his. Love, grief, anger, madness, and shame, etc. Tis a common calamity. A fatal end to this disease. They are condemned to a violent death by a jury of physicians, furiously disposed, carried headlong by their tyrannizing wills, enforced by miseries, and there remains no more to such persons, if that heavenly physician, by his assisting grace and mercy alone do not prevent, for no human persuasion or art can help, but to be their own butchers, and execute themselves. Socrates his kykuta, Lucretius' dagger, Tymon's halter, are yet to be had. Cato's knife and Nero's sword are left behind them as so many fatal engines, bequeath to posterity, and will be used to the world's end, by such distressed souls, so intolerable, insufferable, grievous, and violent is their pain, so unspeakable, and continuate. One day of grief is an hundred years, as Carden observes. Tis carnifiquina hominem, angor anime, as well saeth Aretius, the cramp and convulsion of the soul, an epitome of hell, and if there be a hell upon earth, it is to be found in a melancholy man's heart. For that deep torture may be called an hell when more is felt than one hath power to tell. Yay, that which scoffing Lucian said of the gout ingest, I may truly affirm of melancholy in earnest. O triste nomen, o diis o dibile, melancholia lacrimosa, cocuti filia, tu tartari speccubus, opaki sedita, erunnus utero qua megra suo tulit, et abu beribus alluit, quicoe parvidai amaru lentum, in os lacalecto deidit. Omneis abominabilem, te dimoneis, produxerin lukem, exitio murtalium. Et paulopost, non Jupiter ferit tale talum fulminis, non Ulla sig procella sai wit ai coris, non impetuosi, tantawis est turbinis, an aspero sustinio morsus kerberi, num wiruse kidnai, membra mea de paschitor, alt tunica sanie, tinkta nessi sanguinis, ilacrimabile et immedicabile malum hoak. O sad and odious name, a name so fel is this of melancholy, brat of hell, there borne in halish darkness doth it dwell, the furies brought it up, Megara's teat, electo gave it bitter milk to eat, and all conspired a bane to mortal men, to bring this devil out of that black den. Jupiter's thunderbolt, not storm at sea, nor whirlwind, doth our hearts so much dismay. What am I bit by that fierce Cerberus, or stung by serpent so pestiferous, or put on shirt that's dipped in nessus blood, my pains past cure, physic can do no good. No torture of body like unto it, siculi non in venere tirani mayus tormentum, no strapados, hot irons, phalaris' balls, ne iradeum tantum, ne cteila, ne hostis, quantum sola nochis, animis elapsa. Joves Roth, nor devils can, do so much to the soul of man. All fears, griefs, suspicions, discontents, imbonites, insuavites, are swallowed up and drowned in this Euripus, this Irish sea, this ocean of misery, as so many small brooks, tis coagulum omnium irumnarum, which Amiana supplied to his distressed paladins. I say of our melancholy man, he is the cream of human adversity, the quintessence and upshot, all other diseases whatsoever, are but fleabightings to melancholy in extent. Tis the pith of them all, hospitium est calamitatis, quid werbis opus est, quam cunquem malam remquiris, ilic reperiis. What need more words, tis calamities in, where seek for any mischief, tis within. And the melancholy man is that true Pometheus, which is bound to Caucasus, the true Titius, whose bowels are still by a vulture devoured, as poets feign, for so doth Lilius Geraldus interpret it, of anxieties, and those griping cares, and so ought it to be understood. In all other maladies we seek for help, if a leg or an arm ache, through any distemperature or wound, or that we have an ordinary disease, above all things whatsoever, we desire help and health, a present recovery, if by any means possible it may be procured. We will freely part with all our other fortunes, substance, endure any misery, drink bitter potions, swallow those distasteful pills, suffer our joints to be seared, to be cut off, anything for future health. So sweet, so dear, so precious above all other things in this world is life. Tis that we chiefly desire, long life and happy days, multos da jupiter anus, increase of years, all men wish, but to a melancholy man, nothing so tedious, nothing so odious, that which they so carefully seek to preserve, he abores, he alone, so intolerable are his pains, some make a question, graviores morbi corpores an animi, whether the diseases of the body or mind be more grievous, but there is no comparison, no doubt to be made of it, multo enim saibior, longe que est atrochior animi, quam corpores cruciatus, lemnius, book 1, chapter 12. The diseases of the mind are far more grievous, totum hic pro-wulnere corpus, body and soul is misaffected here, but the soul especially. So cardan testifies, dei rerum vari etate, book 8, 40. Maximus Dyrus, a Platonist and Plutarch, have made just volumes to prove it, da's adimit agritudinem hominibus. In other diseases there is some hope likely, but these unhappy men are born to misery, past all hope of recovery, incurably sick the longer they live the worse they are, and death alone must ease them. Another doubt is made by some philosophers whether it be lawful for a man in such extremity of pain and grief to make away himself, and how these men that so do are to be censured. The Platonists approve of it, that it is lawful in such cases, and upon a necessity, Plutinus liber de biatitudinem chapter 7, and Socrates himself defends it in Plato's Fidon, if any man labour of an incurable disease he may dispatch himself, if it be to his good. Epicurus and his followers, the cynics and stoics in general, affirm it, Epictetus and Seneca amongst the rest. Quam cun quae weram ese wiam ad libertatim. Anyway is allowable, that leads to liberty. Let us give God thanks, that no man is compelled to live against his will. Qued ad hominem claustre, carker custodia, liborum ostium habit, death is always ready and at hand, wides ilum praikipitem locum, ilud flumen, da's da's see that steep place, that river, that pit, that tree, there's liberty at hand. E fugia servitutis et doloris sunt. As that Laconian lad cast himself headlong, non serviam aibat puir, to be freed of his misery. Every vein in thy body, if these be nimis operosi exitus, will set thee free. Quid tua refert finem facias an aqipias? There's no necessity for a man to live in misery. Malum est necasitati wiwere, sed in necasitate wiwere necasitas nula est. Ignawus qui sinei causa moritor et stultus qui cum dolori wiwit. Idem epistulai octo et quinkwaginta. Wherefore hath our mother the earth brought out poisons, saith Pliny, in so greater quantity, but that man in distress might make away themselves. Which kings evolved had ever in readiness, ad incertafor tunai wen enum sub custode promptum, Livy writes, and executioners always at hand. Sprecipis, being sick, was met by diogenes and carried on his slave's shoulders. He made his moan to the philosopher. But I petty thee not, quoth diogenes, qui cum talis wiwere sustines. Thou must be free when thou wilt, meaning by death. Seneca therefore commends Cato, Dido, and Lucretia for their generous courage in so doing, and others that voluntarily die, to avoid a greater mischief, to free themselves from misery, to save their honour, or vindicate their good name, as Cleopatra did, as Sofonisba, Syfax's wife did, Hannibal did, as Junius Brutus, as Vibius Viros, and those companion senators in Livy to escape the Roman tyranny that poisoned themselves. The mysticlies drank bull's blood rather than he would fight against his country, and Demosthenes chose rather to drink poison, Publius, Crassifilius, Censorius, and Plancus, those heroical Romans, to make away themselves, than to fall into their enemy's hands. How many myriads, besides in all ages, might I remember, Qui Sibylathum in Sontes, Peperre Manu, etc. Rasis in the Maccabees is magnified for it, Samson's death approved, so did Saul and Jonas, Sin, and many worthy men and women, Quorum memoria celebrator in Ecclesia, Seith Lamingas, for killing themselves to save their chastity and honour. When Rome was taken, as Augustine instances, Book 1, De Chivitate Dei, Chapter 16, Jerome vindicated the same in Yonam and Ambrose, Book 3, De Wirginitate, Commendith Pelagia for so doing. Eusebius, Book 8, Chapter 15, admires a Roman matron for the same fact to save herself from the lust of Maccentius the tyrant. Adel Helmus, Abbot of Marmsbury, calls them Beartas Wirgines, Quiseek, etc. Titus Pomponius Atticus, that wise, discreet, renowned Roman senator, Tully's dear friend, when he had been long sick, as he supposed, of an incurable disease, Weetamque Producaret, ad Algendos Dolores, Sinespaisalutis, was resolved voluntarily by famine to dispatch himself to be rid of his pain. And when, as a gripper, and the rest of his weeping friends earnestly besought him, osculantes obsecrarent neid quadnatura epse aceleraret, not to offer violence to himself. With a settled resolution, he desired again they would approve of his good intent, and not seek to de-haut him from it. And so constantly died, prekesque aeorum takiturna sua obstinatione depresit. Even so did Corellius Rufus, another grave senator, by the relation of Plinus secundus epistularum liberunus epistle 12, famished himself to death, pedibus corruptus cum incredibles cruciatus et indignissima tormenta paterator. Neither he nor his villa his wife could divert him, but destinatus mori obstinate magis, et cetera, die he would, and die he did. So did Lycurgus, Aristotle, Zeno, Chrysippus, Empedocles, with Myriads, et cetera. In wars for a man to run rashly upon imminent danger and present death is accounted valour and magnanimity. To be the cause of his own, and many a thousand's ruin besides, to commit wilful murder in a manner of himself and others is a glorious thing, and he shall be crowned for it. The Masegati in former times, Barbicians, and I know not what nations besides, distifle their old men, after seventy years, to free them from those grievances incident to that age. So did the inhabitants of the island of Corellus, because their air was pure and good, and the people generally long lived. Ante were te bant fatum sum, prius quam manchi forent, out im bechilatis a cedaret, papawere velchicuta, with poppy or hemlock they prevented death. So Thomas Moore in his utopia commends voluntary death, if he be Sibi out Aliis molestus, troublesome to himself or others, especially if to live be atonement to him. Let him free himself with his own hands, from this tedious life, as from a prison, or suffer himself to be freed by others. Ante is the same tenet, which Laertius relates of Zeno of old, and which Plato nine de legibus approves, if old age, poverty, ignimony, etc. oppress, and which Fabius expresseth in effect. Neimo nisi sua culpa diudolet. It is an ordinary thing in China, saeth Matthias Ricius the Jesuit, if they be in despair of better fortunes or tired and tortured with misery, to bereave themselves of life, and many times, despite their enemies the more, to hang at their door. Tacitus the historian, Plutarch the philosopher, much approve of voluntary departure, and Augustine, Decivitate dei, book one, chapter twenty-nine, defends a violent death, so that it be undertaken in a good cause. Neimo seek mortus, qui non fuerat ali quando moriturus, qui d'autum interrest, qui mortis generi vitaista finiatur, quando ele qui finitur, iterum mori non cogitur, etc. No man so voluntarily dies, but, volens, nollens, he must die at last, and our life is subject to innumerable casualties. Who knows when they may happen? Ultram Satius est unan perpeti moriendo, an omnis dimere wi window, rather suffer one than fear all. Death is better than a bitter life, Ecclesiastes thirty-seventeen, and a harder choice to live in fear than by once dying to be freed from all. Theumbrotus and Brachiotes persuaded, I know not how, many hundreds of his auditors, by a luculent oration he made of the miseries of this and happiness of that other life to precipitate themselves. And having read Plato's divine tract de anima, for example's sake, led the way first. That neat epigram of Calimicus will tell you as much. Calenus and his Indians hated of old to die a natural death. The Chircumsellians and Donatists, loathing life, compelled others to make them away with many such. But these are false and pagan positions, profane stoical paradoxes, wicked examples. It boots not what heathen philosophers determine in this kind. They are impious, abominable, and upon a wrong ground. No evil is to be done that good may come of it. Reclamat Christus, reclamat Scriptura, God, and all good men are against it. He that stabs another can kill his body, but he that stabs himself kills his own soul. Ili produc it wi tam admiseriam. He that gives a beggar an arms, as that comical poet said, doth ill, because he doth but prolong his miseries. But lactantius, Book 6, Chapter 7, De vero cultu, calls it a detestable opinion, and fully confutes it. An Saint Augustine, Ep. 52, Ad Machedonium, Chapter 61, Adulchitium Tribunum, Sodath Hiorom, to Markella of Blessilla's death, non-recipio tales animas etc. He calls such men matures stultae filosofiae. Sodath Cyprian, de dupliki materio, si qui seek moriantur, out infirmitas, out ambitio, out dementia, cogit eus. Tis me a madness, so to do, furore est ne moriare mori. To this effect writes Aristotle 3 Ethics, Lipsius ad Stoicum filosofium, Book 3, Dissertation 23. But it needs no confutation. This only let me add, that in some cases, those hard censures of such as offer violence to their own persons, or in some desperate fit to others, which sometimes they do, by stabbing, slashing etc., are to be mitigated, as in such as a mad, beside themselves for the time, or found to have been long melancholy, and that in extremity, they know not what they do. Deprived of reason, judgment, all, as a ship that is void of a pilot must needs impinge upon the next rock, or sands, and suffer shipwreck. Petrus forestus, hath a story of two melancholy brethren that made away themselves, and for so foul a fact, were accordingly censured to be infamously buried, as in such cases they use, to terrify others, as it did the mylesian virgins of old. But upon father examination of their misery and madness, the censure was revoked, and they were solemnly interred, as Saul was by David, two Samuel, two four. And Seneca, well advised, iraskere interfectori, said miserere interfecti, be justly offended with him as he was a murderer, but pity him now as a dead man. Thus of their goods and bodies we can dispose, but what shall become of their souls, God alone can tell. His mercy may come interpontem et fontem, intergladium et uglum, betwixt the bridge and the brook, the knife and the throat. Quod qui quam contiguit, qui wis potest. Who knows how he may be tempted? It is his case, it may be thine. Quoi suasors hodie est, cras fore vestra potest. We ought not to be so rash and rigorous in our censures, as some are. Charity will judge and hope the best. God be merciful unto us all. End of Section 53. End of The Anatomy of Melancholy, Volume 1, by Robert Burton.